oh, good. Glad no one was freaked out. Here you go.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours later, we were in the Room of Requirement yet again. Except we had company, this time. Draco and Potter were there, as well as a tall, red-haired man named Weasley. The Minister's younger brother, as it happened. We all sat in tense silence, nibbling on cookies. I wondered what we were waiting for. I was about to ask when the door opened to reveal Christo.

"Christo," I said happily, hugging him. "I'm glad you're here."

I couldn't help sending an almost accusing glance at Potter. This is my cousin, the look said. Not you. You're a stranger. Christo took a seat with Draco and me on the couch. Potter, Granger, and Weasley sat opposite us.

"Alright," Granger said. "Malc—Mrs. Malfoy and I have figured out how to destroy the helmet. She has to go through the veil in the Department of Mysteries and give it back to its rightful owner."

"Absolutely not," Draco and Potter said in unison, and glared at each other.

"She's not going," Draco said firmly. "It's suicide."

"Literally," Potter added. "Wait, how do you know about the veil? And how did you know about the Horcruxes, for that matter?"

"Later," Draco growled.

"No," Potter said, jaw set. "I want to know now."

Draco hesitated. "I looked into Dumbledore's Pensieve."

"Impossible," Potter said flatly. "I keep it in my Gringott's vault. It's been in there since Dumbledore died."

"Yes, it was in your vault," Draco said impatiently. "And so was I."

"What were you looking for?" Granger asked, interrupting Potter.

"Answers," Draco said cryptically.

Potter glared angrily at Draco. "I want to know how you--"

"Excuse me, but we were talking about something to do with a veil and a helmet and an owner of one of them," Christo said, looking bewildered. "What veil? What helmet are we talking about, why do we have to destroy it, and who is the rightful owner?"

Hermione gave everyone a brief run-down on what we had learned and waited for their reactions. Draco looked angry and upset, Christo surprised but not disbelieving, and Potter and Weasley just looked blank. I could see the conflict going on in their heads. They were clearly used to Granger figuring things out, but definitely not used to hearing such far fetched ideas coming from her.

"I wouldn't fight it if I were you," I advised them, smiling patronizingly. "The gods—Hermes in particular—go to rather extreme measures to make a point."

"Hermione," Potter said. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Granger assured him. "Now, the first question we need to answer is, what is the 'key'? We discussed it and think that it could be a piece of information—perhaps how to destroy the bracelet. Does anyone have any other ideas?"

"Not really, no," Weasley said. "It could be anything. I think we need to concentrate on how to get in there."

"Yeah, we could spend weeks speculating," Potter agreed. "We know what we have to do to destroy one Horcrux—let's figure out how to it."

"Excuse me, I believe we're overlooking one small—tiny—minuscule, even—but entirely crucial detail," Draco pointed out pleasantly. "My wife is not going through any veil. She's not going anywhere near it."

"Draco," I protested. "I have to. Weren't you listening? You can't ignore the gods."

"I don't care," Draco said shortly. "You are not going to risk your life and my child's life just so you can do Potter's dirty work for him."

"Do you think I care about Potter?" I demanded hotly. "I'm doing this for us. This can't end unless the Horcruxes are destroyed and we can't leave until its over. I hate this place, Draco. I want to go home."

"You're not going," Draco said. "End of story. We'll find another way to destroy the Horcruxes."

"There is no other way," I cried. "Even if there is, it could be too late by the time we figure it out. The only reason we're here is to destroy Voldemort and we can't do that unless the Horcruxes are destroyed."

"She's right, Tsichlo," Christo said softly.

"Then let Potter go," Draco said. "He's the bloody Chosen One, isn't he?"

"He's right," Potter said, shooting a dirty look at Draco. "Voldemort is my problem. I can't ask anyone to do it for me."

"You ass," I said disgustedly. "He's everyone's problem. And you can't do this."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Draco snapped. "This is just the sort of noble, crackpot scheme he--"

"Look, I want to go," Potter interrupted. "You don't understand—if I could go through the veil--"

"There, see? He wants to--"

"No," I said gently. "I'm sorry—both of you. It has to be me."

"Why?" Draco demanded. "You can't use your magic here--"

"It has to be me," I repeated patiently.

"Why?"

"Because," I said simply. "I have the blessing of the gods. They will protect me, Draco. Have a little faith."

"Faith is just another word for complacence," Draco said stubbornly.

"Hermes will be right beside me," I continued soothingly. "He guides the dead to the Underworld; he can guide me, too."

"This is ridiculous."

"This is necessary."

Draco sighed. "I don't have a say in this, do I?"

"No," I said with a small smile.

"You promised to do as I say while we're in England."

"Extenuating circumstances."

"You're sure you want to do this?" Draco held my hand gently and ran a thumb over my knuckles in a rare display of affection in public. "You're absolutely certain."

"Yes, Draco," I said, letting my hand slide over my belly. "I want us to go home. All of us."

I felt a brief pang of guilt at using the baby as leverage. I wanted to go home with Draco—just Draco. But it worked. He sighed and sat back, still holding my hand.

"Alright," he said, shoulders slumping in defeat. "But we are not going to engage in any Potter-esque hero stunts. We get in, find someplace to hide until Ari comes out, and we get out of there."

"Excuse me," said an accented voice from the door. "I could not 'elp but ovair-hear..."

"Yes, you could, Gabrielle," I said, but smiled. "Come in."

"I want to go," she said, closing the door behind her. "I can 'elp you."

"I don't think so, Gee," Potter said gently, with the tolerant air of an older brother. "Your sister would hex us into oblivion and then where would the wizarding world be?"

"Zen she will not find out," Gabrielle purred.

Suddenly every male in the room became attuned to her. Gabrielle glided over to Potter, hips swaying gently. His eyes went blank and dopey, like a golden retriever's. Draco, I was happy to note, appeared to be merely intensely interested in the proceedings rather than obsessed and gooey-eyed like Christo. Weasley, too, seemed to have a bit of immunity. I noticed he was seated very close to Granger.

"Gabrielle, stop it," Granger said sharply. As Christo and Potter blinked confusedly, she explained, "Gabrielle's grandmother was a veela."

"So she told me," I muttered. It still rankled a little bit.

"You see?" Gabrielle declared. "I can make a distraction. Zey will not know what hit zem."

"Gee-gee, we appreciate the thought," Weasley said. "But it's just too dangerous."

"I would not be in any dangair," she said impatiently, and began to sniffle. "Oh, please, monsieur, I 'ave lost my way. . .I am trying to find my muzzer. . . I lure him into a...how do you say...broom closet, then, voila! I 'ex him and we move on."

"It would save time and energy," Draco admitted. "We can't have bodies lying about and it would take time to move them ourselves."

"Malfoy, do you remember Fleur Delacour?" Potter asked. "She was selected for the Triwizard Tournament for a reason."

"Yeah," Weasley agreed. "She's no pixie."

"Neizzer am I," Gabrielle insisted. "I am coming."

"Gee, no," Potter said.

"I'll tell your muzzer," Gabrielle threatened. "You are afraid of my sister? Hah! You are afraid of Madame Weasley more."

"She's right, mate," Weasley said ruefully. "Mum would go ballistic."

"Argh," Potter said, rubbing his forehead. "Talk about a rock and a hard place. Alright. But I swear, Gabrielle, if Fleur or Molly finds out, I'm blaming it entirely on you."

"Not that that will help much," Granger snorted.

"Still, it's something," Potter sighed. "Alright. When are we going to do this?"

"The sooner the better," I said. "I want to get it over with."

"This weekend?"

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "Sorry, I forgot. We're having a track meet this Saturday." Everyone stared at me. "What? My students have been looking forward to this for weeks. Don't you think it would be just a little suspicious if I canceled it at the last minute? Besides, I've been looking forward to it for weeks, too."

"Alright, then, the weekend after," Granger said. "That's just as well. We'll have more time to prepare. How do we get into the Ministry?"

"I know a way in," Draco said. "I don't think anyone else knows about it..."

We spent the next two hours hammering out a rough plan. Throughout the whole thing, I felt curiously detached, as if I wasn't actually going to do it. I felt like I was planning for something else. It helped. A little.

When we had a basic idea of what we were going to do, we decided to call it a day because no one could think straight anymore and we were all biting each others' heads off. Christo left for wherever he and the others were staying and Draco and I went for a walk around the grounds. We stopped by a large white coffin that I had come across before.

"Who's in there?" I asked, touching the cool stone lightly.

"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School. A great wizard," Draco said heavily. "And a great man. He and Severus saved my life."

"What happened?" I asked tentatively.

"When I was sixteen, the Dark Lord ordered me to kill Dumbledore," Draco said. "It was futile—a suicide mission. The Dark Lord himself hadn't succeeded. My mother went to Severus, who was a double agent for Dumbledore at the time, and asked him for help. He made an Unbreakable Vow to protect me and carry out my mission if I should fail. Dumbledore knew that I had orders to kill him and willingly gave his life so I could keep mine. And Severus gave up any hope of freedom from the Dark Lord. Even if Potter succeeds in killing him, the Order of the Phoenix will never forgive Severus' 'betrayal'. He'll be branded a criminal and a traitor."

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"Can't you see why I don't want you involved in this?" Draco asked earnestly, taking my hands. "There's danger on both sides—everywhere we turn."

"Draco, that's exactly why I have to do this," I said. "This whole situation sucks, I know. It's dangerous. I know that, too. And the sooner it ends, the sooner we can go home and live our lives. You would do anything to keep me safe, so stop being an overprotective, chauvinistic pig and let me do the same for you."

Draco laughed softly and held me against his chest. "You were always a stubborn, cheeky, rotten little sod. Right from the start."

"Were you hoping I would change?"

"Not in a million years."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of Hogwarts' first ever track meet dawned bright and clear. Despite everything, I was excited. I didn't think about the fact that I was pregnant or that I was going to die in a weeks time. Well, sort of. All I thought about was the prospect of a race.

Several races, in fact. I had nearly fifty competitors; word had spread and there turned out to be quite a lot of athletes at Hogwarts—in fact, about a third of the school. And, since everyone agreed that it wouldn't be fair for me to race against girls who were supposedly younger than me, I was going to race against the boys in the high hurtles and the four-hundred hurtles. I could win those: only a few of the boys had ever run hurtles before. I could run the four-hundred, but I didn't have any advantage there. Hey, if I was going to race, I wanted to win.

I warmed up with the girls and led them in some stretches as students and teachers trickled into the stands. I noticed a few people I had never seen before. Perhaps they were family members of the students. I searched the stands and smiled when I spotted Draco. He was leaning against the bench behind him, speaking with a truly repulsive man with a wooden leg. I thought Draco looked kind of uncomfortable. I would be, too. The man's face was oddly distorted and one eye seemed bigger than the other, though I couldn't see why from so far away.

"Professor Malcolm," one of my students asked, drawing my attention back to the meet. "How many jumps do I get in the triple jump?"

"Four," I told her.

"What are the starting commands again?" someone else asked.

"On your mark, get set, and the gun," I said patiently. "Or wand, in this case."

The meet seemed to go smoothly. I had convinced several teachers to act as officials and score-keepers. I had a great time cheering my students on and racing myself. When it came time for my first race, I was surprised at how nervous I was. It was just another race, I told myself. Against boys, yes, but boys who had never run hurtles before and for whom tripping and falling flat on their faces was a distinct possibility.

Then the gun—wand—went off with a bang and I was out of the starting blocks and over the first hurtle almost before I realized it. After that, all thoughts disappeared as I moved smoothly around the track and over the hurtles. Unsurprisingly, I won. One boy almost beat me simply because his legs were about as long as my body, but he had about three feet of air between his legs and the hurtle when he jumped, so he lost a lot of time.

The high hurtles were easier for me to win because there were more hurtles and less space in between, making it more difficult for the inexperienced boys. Maybe it's petty, but it felt good to win. I missed competition. I felt a twinge of regret when I got my times—I'd broken my records from the previous year. If I were still in high school...I put it out of my mind. There was no use dwelling on what might have been.

After the meet--which was a huge success—Granger and Draco came to find me. Granger looked flustered and Draco looked suspiciously blank. Had they been fighting about something? If so, why come to me?

"Professor Malcolm," Granger said, in deference to the students who were still milling about. "I was wondering if you would join me for lunch."

"Sure," I said. "After I take a shower."

"Alright, then," she said, shooting a disgruntled look at Draco. "In an hour?"

"That's fine," I replied, and she walked away. I asked Draco, "What was that all about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Draco said grimly. Suddenly he grinned. "I had no idea you were so fast."

"I've been running so much lately, it was bound to pay off," I said with a shrug, but I smiled. "It felt good. The race, I mean."

"Running the race or winning the race?" Draco inquired as we headed back up to the castle.

"Both," I said. "I wish I could do it again."

"What, now?"

"Yes!" I bounced up and down restlessly. "In fact, I think I will."

I ran down the runway toward the school, flying effortlessly over the hurtles. Granger hurried over, looking annoyed.

"You're starting to act your age, if you know what I mean," she hissed in my ear. "Get a grip!"

That dampened my mood considerably. I glared after her as she flounced off, thinking very uncomplimentary things about her. We got along, for the most part, but she was still a bossy, self-righteous know-it-all. And a killjoy. What I hated most was that she was right. I wasn't allowed to act like a teenager anymore.

"Did you lose against yourself?" Draco joked, coming up behind me. "What's with the face?"

"Nothing," I muttered. "Let's go."

"Is it because of the baby? Mother told me once that--"

"It's nothing," I snapped, and stalked ahead.

I heard Draco mutter something under his breath, but he didn't press me. He walked me back to our rooms and kissed me good-bye, saying that he had to go with Moody—the creepy man he was talking with in the stands—to do something sneaky and mysterious for the Order. I took a shower and tried to relax. When I was as close to relaxed as possible, I dressed and headed up to the Room of Requirement to meet Granger. She was already there, of course.

"What's up?" I asked wearily.

"I need you to do something," Granger said. "For our mission."

Suddenly the theme to Mission: Impossible started running through my head.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked, shaking my head slightly to clear it.

"Well," Granger said, "I need you to go shopping with me."

I, of course, am always up for a shopping expedition. Not that this was just a trip to the mall, mind you. We needed to go to a store called 'Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes', which was a joke shop but had some things that would be very useful to us. When I asked, she told me that it was owned by her friend's older brothers. There were nine Weasleys, apparently. The parents, six boys, and one girl, who was engaged to Potter. The oldest was married to Gabrielle's sister, which explained the familiar way they treated Gabrielle. They were all in the Order except for Percival Weasley, the Minister of Magic. It brought the Mafia to mind very strongly and vividly.

"Fred and George are really very clever," Granger said. "And very good at what they do. They sell jokes, mainly, but also defensive items like Shield Hats and Shield Cloaks and defensive charms and such. I want to get some jokes as well, however."

"Why?" I asked, frowning.

"Their patented day dreams, for instance," Granger said, "will incapacitate anyone we come across for thirty minutes and no one will know. They're meant for students who don't want to pay attention in class, you see. Virtually undetectable."

"I like it," I said approvingly. "Why do you need me, though?"

"Ron and Harry and I already have Shield Cloaks and hats and such," Hermione explained. "And we're family—there's no reason for any of us to actually go to the shop and buy them. But for a colleague who can't do magic, a box of Instant Darkness Powder and some Decoy Detonators and a Shield Cloak would definitely be worth a trip to London. And if you happen to see some jokes you like, well..."

"I see," I said. "Well, I've never said no to shopping. When do we leave?"

"Are you free now?"

"Sure."

We walked down to the gates and stepped outside so we could Apparate—or, rather, so Granger could Apparate while I grasped her arm. We found ourselves in an alleyway next to some garbage cans. Granger tapped a brick with her wand and the wall opened up to reveal Diagon Alley.

Granger lead me quickly down the street to a shop with all sorts of interesting things. I stopped to stare at some bouncing fuzz-balls that squeaked and chittered like little animals. I reached in to touch one and squeaked myself when a long tongue wrapped around my finger.

"Pygmy Puffs," Granger said, smiling. "They're sweet, aren't they?"

"Are they—alive?" I asked dubiously.

"Oh, yes, they make wonderful pets," Granger told me. "Well, for children, anyway. They like to sneak up on wizards while they're sleeping and stick their tongues up—oh, hello, George."

"Hey, Hermione," said a cheerful looking man with red hair and freckles. He wasn't as tall as his younger brother. "What brings you all the way from Hogwarts?"

"Why don't we talk in the back?" Granger suggested.

"Sure," George Weasley said, giving her a curious look. Once we were settled in the roomy office, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong, precisely," Granger said. "It's only that Mrs. Malcolm here took a position at Hogwarts about a month ago as the Muggle Studies Professor and--"

"Wait one bleeding minute," Weasley said. "Malcolm? As in the evil git formerly known as Malfoy? That Malcolm?"

"I'm married to Draco Malfoy, yes," I said, giving him my most charming smile. "He said Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain so he took me there."

"But Mrs. Malcolm isn't exactly a witch," Granger continued, glaring sternly at him. "We thought it would be a good idea to get her some of your defense products. Just in case."

"What do you mean, not exactly a witch?" Weasley asked suspiciously. "Is she a Squib? Malfoy wouldn't marry a Squib."

"I can do a few little things, like move objects without touching them and set things on fire," I explained, keeping my growing dislike of him out of my voice. "But not much else. I was raised a Muggle and discovered I had some magical ability a few months ago."

"Malfoy—alright, Hermione, Malcolm—married a Muggle? I find that hard to believe," Weasley snorted. "Bigoted prick."

"I don't," I said, admiring the ring on my finger. "Isn't it a lovely ring? It was his mother's you know. He went all the way to London from Greece to get it. He's such a gentleman."

I looked Weasley over critically, my pointed gaze implying that he was anything but. And he was.

"If he's such a gentleman, why can't he get your stuff himself?"

"Well, he is supposed to have died over a month ago," I said sweetly. "He can't very well walk around London in broad daylight, can he?"

Weasley glared at me. "Well then, Mrs. Malcolm, let's see what we can do for you, since your husband apparently can't come out of hiding long enough to look after you himself. Just like Malfoy—what kind of man would let his wife walk around unprotected--"

"Oh, my husband is more than capable, Mr. Weasley," I assured him earnestly. "But he's just so busy—you know, working for the Order."

Weasley gave me a dirty look.

"Er, where's Fred?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Out with Angelina," George said shortly. "Here—our new Defense Kit. Includes a Shield Cloak, Shield Hat, Shield Gloves, five Decoy Detonators, two boxes of Instant Darkness Powder, and one Screaming Alarm—just squeeze it and it'll shout for help. Thirty Galleons."

"George!" Granger said severely.

"Alright, twenty," George muttered.

"Wait, I wanted a few of those Day Dreams," I said. "My cousin will love those."

"Fine, fine, get what you need," Weasley said, and stalked over to the counter.

"How many?" I murmured to Granger.

"Five or six should do it," she whispered back. "I'm sorry about George—they can be so rude sometimes."

I shrugged. "I've met worse."

We paid for the stuff and were just about to exit the shop when a very angry-looking redhead stormed in. Granger and I moved hastily out of the way as she stomped over to the counter and slammed what looked like a Whoopee-cushion down in front of him.

"Well?" she snarled, making Weasley recoil.

"Hey, Gin," he said, with an attempt at a cheery smile. "How's everything?"

"You bloody pillock!" she shouted. "I was in a meeting with Samuel Sleekeasy. He was going to buy my product!"

"Oh," Weasley said weakly, looking like he wanted very much to cower. "Well, actually, it was Fred who--"

The girl screamed something and suddenly huge, vicious looking bats attacked Weasley, who shouted and tried to simultaneously protect himself and explain to the offended party. I wasn't sure what he was trying to explain, exactly. She continued to scream what sounded like a mixture of insults and spells at him. Granger and I beat a hasty retreat and I cast an apprehensive look over my shoulder.

"That's Ginny Weasley," Granger said.

"You mean..."

"Yep." We stopped and looked back through the window to see Ginny hurling things at her brother. "Harry's fiancée."

"Oh. Wow."

We turned to leave and were almost to the end of the street when a shout made us stop.

"Hi, Hermione," Ginny said, now fairly calm. "Are you going back to the school?"

"Yes," Granger answered. "Let's talk there—we shouldn't hang about here in the street."

"You're right," Ginny said, and disappeared.

Granger extended her arm to me and we followed Ginny. She was waiting for us in front of the gates. Granger gestured to me a little awkwardly.

"Er—Ginny, this is Alexandra Malcolm, our new Muggle Studies professor."

"Ah," Ginny said, sticking her hand out. "David's wife. I've been hoping to meet you. Anyone willing to marry him is worth meeting, in my opinion."

"I could say the same of anyone willing to marry Potter," I returned with a smile, and shook the offered hand.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I wonder myself."

I decided I liked Ginny Weasley.

"Aren't you his cousin?" Ginny continued as we walked up to the school. "That must be weird, suddenly finding out you have a cousin that you never knew about."

"You'd be surprised," I murmured. "You can get used to anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I was shocked at how easily I responded to her promptings and mental pokes and prods. I ended up telling her all about Kallias and Vouna and the Sirens and even about Bellum. Maybe I was lonelier than I thought or maybe she just had a knack for extracting information. By the time we reached the castle, she probably knew more about what I'd been up to than Granger, who I'd been working with for over a month.

"Let's go up to your rooms, shall we?" Ginny suggested. "I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Is something wrong?" Granger asked worriedly as Ginny led us unerringly through the twisty corridors.

"Oh, no, I just thought you wouldn't want to discuss our little field trip in the middle of the corridor."

"What—our?--how did you--"

Granger continued to sputter indignantly all the way to her rooms, while Ginny regaled me with the story behind her attempted fratricide. Her brother had apparently thought it would be amusing to stick a Stealthy Stinker (an invisible whoopee cushion that simulated not only the sound of a fart but the smell as well) on the seat of her pants right before she went to a business meeting. (Ginny developed hair products)

"How did you find out?" Hermione demanded once we were all safely inside.

"Oh, please," Ginny scoffed. "Am I completely oblivious? I know when something is up. And I want in. Whatever it is, I'm not letting you lot do it by yourselves."

"You'll have to take it up with Harry," Granger said. "Gabrielle already wormed her way in, and he's not happy about it."

"Well, then, I'm in already, aren't I?" Ginny said cheerfully. "So, what's going on?"

Granger opened her moth to protest, but Ginny interrupted her.

"No, no, I mean what's been happening in your life? Honestly, Hermione. We are friends, aren't we?"

What followed was possibly the most bizarre conversation I've ever had. And that's saying something. But what made it weirder was that the conversation itself was completely normal. It was just that it seemed—well, weird—to be having a normal conversation about guys and clothes and hair and what I liked to do in my free time and what my family was like when in a week's time I would be descending into the Underworld. If we managed to get past god-only-knew how many wizards and enchantments and other magical surprises, of course. And let's not forget that I was going to the Underworld to strike a bargain with the god of death in hopes of destroying a magical Tupperware container for an evil wizard's soul.

If I've learned anything since I was bitten, it's that the term 'normal' is relative.

The next morning, I spotted Ginny sitting with Potter and Granger, looking very smug. Potter looked sulky but resigned. I smirked. I did like Ginny. I was about to take an empty seat at the end of the table, but Ginny waved me over and indicated a seat next to her.

"Sit," she said. "I want to hear more about Sebastian Grey. He financed Death Eater activities, you said? How?"

"Ah, that's not really something we should talk about here," I said.

"Parlaiz-vous Francais?" Ginny asked.

"Tres bien," I replied, startled.

Ginny gave me a look that said, Well? Get on with it. So I told her about the brothel and how I met Gabrielle and found the Horcrux—if she was coming, she knew about everything, including the gods. Because I was a virgin when it happened, this led to a discussion about Draco and when I had married him and how long I had known him and didn't we kind of rush into it a little? And she had heard some girls talking about how I was pregnant and was it true? I barely kept up with the barrage of questions and was surprised once more surprised at how freely I confided in her. Maybe it was because she didn't give me a chance to think about it.

Ginny stayed for a couple of days and even joined in on a soccer game. (We had started having pick up games a few times a week—wizarding life is all well and good, but it tends to produce very frustrated soccer players.) I had reservations about letting her play; she was petite and pixie-like and while I knew she didn't let anyone push her around verbally, I couldn't help but think that a strong breeze would knock her over. I needn't have worried. Ginny might not have been very strong, but she was quick and wasn't afraid to play dirty. She wasn't a very good soccer player—to be quite honest, she was crap—but she tried hard and laughed a lot and the kids—students, I mean—loved her. Especially the boys.

When Ginny left, I found myself laughing a lot less. Especially when Draco informed me that there was an Order-related emergency and that Granger and Potter and several other Order members were needed. Not only would our 'field trip' be postponed, the school would be left with only a few Order members to protect it. And these Order members included McGonagall, the Headmistress, Hagrid, the half-giant who technically wasn't allowed to work magic, Professor Flitwick, who came up to my waist, and a strange person called Luna Lovegood, who was going to help cover Potter's and Granger's classes.

Before they left, Potter took me aside and asked for a private word. I hesitated, then agreed. What harm could it do? I didn't like him very much, but he wasn't a bad person. He wouldn't try anything. He drew me into an empty classroom and stood there for a minute, fidgeting.

"Well?" I prompted him.

"I want to go with you," he blurted. "Through the veil."

"I thought we'd been through this," I said exasperatedly. "Look, you don't have to prove anything--"

"That's not it at all," he cried, pacing back and forth. "It's—it's just personal."

"I'm sorry," I said firmly. "You can't. I can go because I have the gods' blessing. You could end up trapped—and then who would kill Voldemort?"

"I'm not the only one who can kill Voldemort," he snapped. "The prophecy doesn't really mean anything—anyone could kill Voldemort, it's just more likely that I will because—oh, it's too hard to explain."

"You can't go," I repeated. "If you go through the archway, it is extremely unlikely that you would come out again."

"But--"

"No. End of discussion." I looked at him sternly. "Any more out of you and I'm telling Ginny."

Potter finally subsided and they all left. Although Draco had assured me repeatedly that the school was a veritable fortress, I couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to convince himself as well as me. I bid him good-bye for what seemed like the hundredth time and went to bed feeling very small and frightened. I hadn't said anything to Draco or Granger because it wasn't my place, but I had a horrible feeling about all this. I mean, how convenient was it that something suddenly came up that left the school with only four Order members to protect it? Didn't that scream, "Trap!" to anyone else?

I was not at all pleased to find my fears were justified the next morning. I was having breakfast and listening in dumbstruck silence to Professor Lovegood's dire warning not to eat the hard-boiled eggs because they were actually dragon eggs and would hatch in my stomach if I at them when suddenly a ghost zoomed through the wall, bellowing. It took me a moment to work out what he was saying.

"Intruders! Intruders on the Astronomy Tower!"

Then a young girl ran into the Hall, shrieking, "They've killed Thomas! They've killed Thomas! In the dungeons! They're here!"

There was an instant uproar. Everywhere, students were running about and shrieking and screaming but doing absolutely nothing. Hagrid stood on the table, which creaked under his weight, and bellowed for silence. The sudden contrast was shocking. Then the doors slammed shut, making everyone jump.

"Everyone, please divide into your Houses and see if anyone is missing," McGonagall said calmly. "When you have done that, one person from each House please come see me. Quickly, now."

The students rushed to do as she said and McGonagall turned to the teachers.

"There is a passage behind the Hogwarts tapestry," she told us. "It leads to a cavern beneath the school. Horace, I need you and Professor Malcolm to lead the children there and make sure they stay put. Luna, contact Harry and let him know that we have a problem."

I was quite alright with this plan, as it placed me well away from danger. At least, I was happy with this plan until the representative from Ravenclaw came forward and said that Gabrielle was missing. My stomach turned to ice. McGonagall will find her, I assured myself. Or Hagrid. Or that Luna person. Everything will be fine. Just do what McGonagall told you to do.

I argued with myself as McGonagall continued her head count. McGonagall looked like she knew what she was doing. But—the fact is, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself. And the other teachers would have enough on their hands. They needed all the help they could get. They all thought I was a Muggle; that's why they were so willing to let me babysit. There was a time when I would have let them think so. I would have let them think whatever they wanted as long as I didn't have to put my neck on the line.

But since then, I had been deceived, kidnapped, incarcerated in a whorehouse, and attacked repeatedly. Quite frankly, I had very little faith in other people's ability to protect me. The only person I really trusted to do that wasn't here, so it looked like I would have to do it myself. Protect myself and Gabrielle. And besides, it wasn't like I was completely helpless.

I followed Slughorn obediently through the tapestry and brought up the end of the precession. As soon as the last student was around a bend in the tunnel, I kicked off my heeled shoes, shed my robes, and sprinted back. The Hall was deserted, but I could hear shouts and crashes coming from within the castle.

I changed in a blink of an eye and then changed back just as quickly. If I bit people, they would be werewolves, too. And more useful to Voldemort, perhaps. The realization that I couldn't change to defend myself almost made me reconsider my decision to find Gabrielle myself, but I steeled myself and took a deep breath before darting out of the Hall.

The corridor was eerily deserted. I hadn't expected an all-out battle right outside the door, exactly, but the emptiness was unnerving. I changed and sniffed frantically all around the corridor. There were so many scents—where was Gabrielle's? Aha! Got it. I changed back, but let my ears grow enough to allow me to move them in different directions and elongated my fingers into claws. Just in case.

Now that I had Gabrielle's scent, I could follow it with my enhanced human nose. My sense of smell wasn't quite as good as a human as it was as a wolf, but it would get the job done. I jogged through the corridors, following Gabrielle's scent. It was getting stronger. Then it was joined by another...it was human, but it had a hint of wolfishness about it. A werewolf, then. Like me.

I changed. If he—now I could smell that it was a he—was already a werewolf, then I didn't have to worry about biting him. And I had a feeling I would probably have to bite him. Or worse.

I paused briefly to sniff at a few splattered drops of blood. It was the werewolf's. Go Gabrielle. There were more drops of blood leading down the corridor like a trail of cookie crumbs. As I continued, it got thicker. Now I could hear sounds of a struggle coming from an empty classroom at the end of the corridor and Gabrielle shrieking curses—both literal and figurative—at her attacker. I heard her scream in fear and ran as fast as I could.

I burst in and launched myself at the figure crouched over Gabrielle without thinking twice. I glimpsed a filthy, blood-smeared face drawn back in a snarl before I caught the werewolf's neck in my jaws and let my momentum help me drag him off of her. I heard a dull snap as we landed and the body convulsed once before going limp and still. The part of me that was a wolf was grimly pleased at a quick, efficient kill. The human part of me was merely relieved. He had not killed Gabrielle. Who, incidentally, was scrambling for her wand.

I changed back and yelled, "Hey! Whoa, hold on, it's me!"

"Ari," she breathed, closing her eyes. "I forgot--I thought--"

"Never mind," I said urgently. In French, I added, "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said shakily. "The blood was his. I got him a few times before he knocked me down."

"Come on," I said, helping her to her feet. "There's a passageway out of the castle—the rest of the students are already gone."

We made our way back to the Great Hall as quickly as we could, but we had to stop several times to hide from Death Eaters. A few times, Gabrielle hit them with some sort of paralyzing spell that allowed us to get safely by them. We finally made it to the Great Hall and I ran over to the tapestry, looking for the passageway. It wasn't there.

"I don't understand," I cried. "It was here."

"There's probably and enchantment on it," Gabrielle said. "We need to find another way out."

"Well, we can't go outside," I said. "They'll have an open shot at us."

"Let's fight," Gabrielle said, eyes burning. "We can't run—we can probably hide, but they'll find us eventually. We can help."

"Speak for yourself," I retorted. "All I can do is set things on fire and move stuff. I mean, if I had gunpowder or something...that's it! Let's go!"

"Where are we going?" Gabrielle demanded, following me at a sprint through the halls.

"The Room of Requirement," I panted. "Hurry."

We made it with mercifully few delays and I darted up and down the corridor three times, thinking, I need Greek Fire. I need a bow and arrows. I need something to wear that I can move and run in. The door appeared and I shoved Gabrielle inside before entering myself and slamming the door shut behind me.

"What are these?" Gabrielle asked, looking around at the pots that lined the shelves. "The bows and arrows I understand, but what's in the pots?"

"Greek Fire," I said. "It'll keep burning, even when you pour water on it. In fact, water makes it worse. It's a good thing this room provides whatever you need, because the recipe has been lost for centuries. Put those clothes on and find some sneakers that fit. You can't fight in a skirt."

I hastily pulled on a pair of soccer shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakers. I grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows and offered another to Gabrielle, who shook her head and raised her wand. I opened one of the pots and carefully dipped all of the arrows in it. I found a bag and filled it with as many of the small, tightly sealed containers as I could.

"Alright," I said, heart pounding, "let's go."

I pricked my ears and followed the loudest sounds of fighting. It seemed to be coming from the dungeons. Gabrielle and I hurried along the corridors with wand and bow at the ready. The pouch of bombs hung from a length of rope I'd tied around my waist.

The main battle was taking place in a large chamber in the dungeons with smaller fights out in the corridor. I picked off three Death Eaters with my ignited arrows before the others noticed and turned their wands toward me. A centaur took this opportunity to kick him in the head. Gabrielle got one and one of the Professors dealt with the other. I ran lightly down the stairs and dragged the teacher away from the flames.

"Whatever you do, don't get near it, and don't try to put it out with water," I said. "You have to get all of our people out of that room."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her tone hovering between scorn and fear.

"Forget it," I snapped, and stuck my head in the door. I took a deep breath and bellowed, "Professor McGonagall! Get them out of there! Now!"

I took a bomb out of my pouch and hurled it against the opposite wall, where it burst into flame. The teachers—along with some Death Eaters—made a dash for the door. I stood my ground and hurled another at an approaching Death Eater. He screamed in fear and pain and fell to the floor, thrashing madly. I was dimly aware of Gabrielle at my side, shouting spells; covering our people's retreat. Once all of ours—all three of them—were out, I tossed a handful in the Death Eaters' faces and lit them on fire. As they shrieked and flailed about, I slammed the door closed.

"Lock it," I barked.

Gabrielle obliged, looking pale. McGonagall gasped and leaned against the wall, staring at me.

"Why aren't you with the students?" she demanded. "I said quite clearly--"

"Why don't we pretend that you were just thanking me for saving your life," I suggested acidly. "Why, you're very welcome, it was my pleasure. And your passageway locked behind me, by the way. I couldn't get Gabrielle back in."

"Yes," McGonagall said vaguely. "The other students are in my office—take Gabrielle there now. The password is Telemann."

"Here, take these," I said, shoving the bag at her. "Just throw them and ignite. Don't let any of it get on you. It's Greek Fire."

"What?"

But we were gone, running up the stairs and heading for the Headmistress's office on the fifth floor. Gabrielle knew of a short cut, but there was still a long way to go. We were struggling to sprint up the last flight of stairs when something knocked me down from behind. I looked over my shoulder and felt my heart stop.

"Go!" I shouted at Gabrielle. "It's me he wants—go!"

Gabrielle hesitated a moment, then turned and ran. I rolled over and faced Bellum, who had a crazed, excited look on his face.

"My dear, where have you been?" he drawled. "I have been searching high and low for you. I have been so worried."

"Oh, were you?" I sneered, holding up my left hand. "So sorry. I'm already taken."

"You are mine," he snarled. his face contorting. "Mine. I was promised a reward. I will find a way—I will break the enchantment--"

"Well, you're welcome to try," I said pleasantly, trying to buy Gabrielle more time. "But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"Silence," he hissed, pointing his wand at me. I tried to speak and couldn't. My mouth and throat worked, but no sound came out. Bellum smirked unpleasantly. "And now, my little wolfling, it is time to go to sleep. Stupefy!"

While it is true that it is a ridiculous-sounding spell, it unfortunately works very well. All I saw was a flash of red light and then nothing.

Nothing but black.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oh, dear. What's Bellum going to do with her? """wiggles eyebrows""""