A/N: I'm soo sorry this is taking me so long to write up (ahem, it's been a good two years or so), but it's quite difficult dealing with life and then trying to give that to a story stored somewhere in the vast expanse of one's hard drive.

Disclaimer: I thought we've been through this already . . . Harry Potter is not mine.

Too Far Gone

Chapter Seven: The Doomed Duo (Whichever Way You Look At It)

The bell rang to signal the end of class. Amber and Ginny looked at each other. It was time for the moment they had been dreading since Snape told them he'd be escorting them to the Headmaster's office. The idea seemed completely useless to the point of absurdity. Liza and Alexa gathered their cauldrons and stuffed them haphazardly into their satchels, too worried about their friends to preoccupy themselves with the wellbeing of their materials.

'Would you like us to stay?' Alexa asked. She had finally taken to reprimanding the foot that usually found itself lodged in her mouth.

Ginny shook her head at her. 'No,' she said. 'I don't think that would be wise. The two of you don't deserve any more detention just because we decided to talk back to a professor.'

Liza breathed out what seemed like a sigh of relief but asked anyway, 'Are you sure?'

Amber sighed and lifted her head back so that she spoke to the ceiling. 'Yes, we're sure,' she said. And then in an undertone, she muttered, 'Why? Why must I go to the Headmaster's office? What will become of me?'

'What will become of us?' added Ginny, as she too overdramatically inquired the ceiling that seemed to know all.

Liza and Alexa gave them odd looks.

Ginny stared at the ceiling a bit longer, and once sure it would not respond, she said to Amber, 'Erm, I don't get it. All the Muggles do it. . . .'

'Well, you know what they say about Muggles . . .' Alexa said. 'While it takes them an hour to screw in a light bulb properly, it takes a witch or wizard about a half second to "Lumos."'

Amber looked up, bewildered. 'You actually say that about Muggles?' Shrugging, she placed a spying eye on the supply closet, knowing that Professor Snappy Snape would soon emerge from his office with the proper paperwork filled out to take with him to the Headmaster's office. Amber was a little worried; disrespecting a professor in front of the entire class or just disrespecting him at all was highly frowned upon amongst adults. There was no way Dumbledore would remember how difficult it was as a teenager and 'let them off' easily.

Alexa and Liza sneered as their potions master indeed walked out of the supply closet. 'Best be off, then,' Liza said to the Doomed Duo. Then, in a sympathetic whisper she muttered, 'And don't let the greasy-haired git get to you. If anything, you can threaten him with a bath and he'll scream bloody murder in the other direction.'

The latter made Ginny laugh. 'I'll see you later,' she said, and Alexa and Liza hurriedly left their two friends.

Professor Snape, in all his mighty pride, scowled at the two girls that had caused him so much annoyance and wondered why he was even bothering to escort them to the Headmaster's office. He started towards the door and noticed the two Gryffindors weren't moving. 'Follow me, please,' he said silkily. There was no doubt he was extremely temperamental at the moment. Actually, there was no doubt he was always this moody. The girls quickly gathered their possessions, stuffing them in their bags and clumsily trotting toward their professor who was much more fit than they would ever give him credit for. After half an hour of half-walking, half-running their way around the expansive castle, their professor finally stopped in front of a large gargoyle.

Snape cleared his throat and in an undertone, so as to disguise the password from the stealthy, sneaky little Gryffindors, he said, cringing, 'Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' Wonderful Wedgies.' Suddenly, the large gargoyle leaped aside and behind it appeared an upward revolving staircase. Snape wasted no time in gaping at the majestic structure, merely stepped onto it and was soon out of sight.

'Dost thou wish a more pleasant journey?' said a steely voice.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin.

'Who said that?' Amber asked no one in particular.

The gargoyle came to life. It began to hiss in a most peculiar melody. 'Speak not of this discovery; in good company thou shalt find a more endearing spree. Alas, not to tamper with the meddling, the answer is requisite, but it is not forthcoming. I ask thee again, fair fellow: dost thou seek a more pleasant trek?' said the gargoyle. It seemed to speak in very elaborate rhymes—almost too overwhelming for any of the two fifth year Gryffindors to respond right away.

Ginny and Amber stared at the expressive gargoyle. Its voice made its gender questionable. Still staring at the animated sculpture, Ginny whispered to Amber, 'What'd it say?'

Amber, eyes glued to the now impatient gargoyle, said, 'I dunno, Gin. Was it even speaking English?'

The gargoyle seemed furious by now. 'I say!' it said. 'How can it be that two young ladies such as yourselves never once learned that it is quite rude to whisper about? I do have ears, you know.'

Amber stepped towards the gargoyle and inspected it, finding it did indeed have ears. 'Well, you'd never know from all the way over there—and besides, it's not every day one is met with a talking gargoyle.'

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. 'Yeah, I thought you were just all . . . stoned.'

Amber snorted. Ginny gave her an odd look and the gargoyle leaped towards her, shouting, 'Well, I never—!'

Realizing what she had said, Ginny's eyes widened and she stealthily ran around the now furious gargoyle and onto the escalator-like staircase. As soon as Amber joined her, Ginny shouted an apology down the stairwell and was met with quite an angry yell from below. By the time she reached Dumbledore's office, Ginny was quite sure the gargoyle would never forgive her.

'Ah, the Gryffindors have arrived on time,' said Dumbledore from his place behind his large oak desk. But the objects of his speech barely heard him; they were too preoccupied staring in awe at the gizmos, gadgets, and silvery, whirring things that dotted bookshelves, tabletops, the floor, chairs, and the air alike. Amber in particular was rather interested in the portraits on the opposing wall of Dumbledore's desk. She inspected each depiction of Hogwart's previous Headmasters and Headmistresses with equal attention. 'Forty-nine?' she said, turning to Dumbledore, eyes wide with bewilderment.

Dumbledore leaned over his desk and his eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon spectacles. He smiled a fairly amused smile and stared down at her over his long, crooked nose. 'Why yes, forty-nine,' he said. Amber couldn't help but notice that only Dumbledore, in all his whimsical wisdom, was the only one who could ever lean over anything and still maintain a relatively majestic air.

'But why so few?' Amber asked, indeed puzzled. How could it be that only FORTY-NINE people had taken care over the school in the past millennium?

Again Dumbledore's eyes sparkled brilliantly. 'Well, you see—it is not only Muggles that grudge against time. Why, if it weren't for the killing curse and uprising in magical mishaps, the average wizard would live to be three-hundred and twenty-three.'

'Wow,' Amber said, amazed. 'You mean they each lived for three-hundred and twenty-three years?' she asked, pointing to the portraits on the wall.

'Hardly,' Dumbledore said. 'One thousand, one hundred forty-four divided by forty-nine is—'

'Roughly twenty-three, Headmaster,' said Snape . . . from somewhere. 'But that is merely an average of the term each Headmaster or Headmistress served at Hogwarts, excluding Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin's time here at the castle.' Ginny and Amber turned around and snapped their heads in the direction of the silky voice. There, in the shadows, sat a slightly bored and scowling Professor Snape.

'Oh, hello, professor,' Ginny said brightly. 'I'd almost forgotten about you.' Ginny turned to Amber and muttered, 'It wouldn't be such a shame to forget him, actually. The shame would be in remembering him, I say.' Amber stifled her giggles into her robe sleeve.

Snape rolled his viciously black eyes and muttered (more to himself than anyone else), 'Don't they all . . .'

Dumbledore chuckled at the comment that had inescapably reached his keen ears. 'Ah, Severus, glad you could join us. Now, Miss Boggle, Miss Weasley, if you'd please take a seat and we may respectfully adjourn the purpose of this visit.'

Almost hesitantly but nonetheless reproachfully, the two Gryffindors sat themselves down in front of Dumbledore, refusing to look at Snape for sheer grudging reasons. Snape again proceeded to roll his eyes and mark his face with yet another harsh scowl.

'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,' Dumbledore began, in a most mourning manner.

Snape was glaring daggers at him. Dumbledore, quite amused at the giggling faces of the Gryffindors and the unpleasant countenance of his Potions professor, advanced his childish introduction, 'to discuss the—the—I apologise, Severus, what was it you said happened?'

'I was telling you, Headmaster, that these two Gryffindors have inquired and humiliated me in a most disrespectful way,' replied Snape bitterly.

'How so?' asked Dumbledore, intrigued at how his Potions Master could ever take too seriously the sarcastic remarks of two Gryffindor girls.

'Miss Boggle for instance, asked if she could 'inquire the blatancy of my hypocrisy' during class,' Snape said.

Dumbledore turned one raised eyebrow at the said Gryffindor. Amber blushed furiously. 'In my defense, Headmaster, Professor Snape also chose to humiliate me during class. In fact, I was only just returning the favour,' she said.

'I see,' Dumbledore said, casting a rather odd glance at the young professor. 'It seems Miss Boggle had every right to answer you in the same courtesy.'

Snape was furious. Teeth clenched, he looked at the two girls with such loathing it was quite difficult to match his contempt. 'Very well,' he said, rising from his seat. 'I'll see you two tomorrow in detention—ah yes, I've almost forgotten,' Snape said, almost smiling. 'We still need to arrange that. In fact, it would be prudent to have here Mister Malfoy and—your other two friends.'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Severus, you never mentioned having to arrange detention,' said he.

'Yes, well—it must be done, although we need a mediator—would you mind—?'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Of course not,' he said.

'Brilliant,' Severus said. 'Miss Boggle if you would fetch—your friends.'

'Yes, Professor,' said Amber in a very bored tone, and off she went.

'And Miss Weasley, I believe Mister Malfoy is in Charms with the Gryffindors,' Snape said, grinning wickedly.

Dumbledore didn't say a word as she got up from her seat cringing at the mention of Malfoy's name, and briskly walking out of his office. 'Severus,' he said in a very serious fashion. 'I understand Mister Malfoy and Miss Weasley aren't getting along.'

Snape shook his head, 'No, Headmaster. The two aren't getting along at all. The detention scheme didn't work and now she's gotten her most quiet friend to backtalk just to get out of it. The gall of it!' the professor exclaimed darkly.

The Headmaster chuckled appreciatively. 'I think we need a new plan,' he said.

And with that, the two began to plot.

Meanwhile. . . .

Ginny trudged down the corridors, scowling at the injustice of the whole ordeal. Professor Snape had disrespected her. Now she had to go get Malfoy out of Charms class. With the Gryffindors. Where her brother, Hermione and Harry were residing this class period. Perfect, she thought. Just what I needed: an interview from my brother asking for an exclusive featuring Malfoy and why the bloody hell I want him out of class.

'Ugh!' she yelled frustratingly down the stone landing. Her voice echoed even louder as it turned the corner. Normally, Ginny would have fled in the opposite direction in case someone had heard her. But right now, everything was much different. Everything was not normal. Right now, her sanity depended upon her very unusual Headmaster and his extremely bitter Potions Master who was sure to favour whatever idea befell that stupid Bunny-Butty Malfoy.

Upon reaching the Charms classroom, Ginny inhaled deeply and racked her brains for a subtle sentence implying the necessary release of Mr. Draco 'I'm Too Good For A Bloody Attitude Adjustment' Malfoy. Ginny rolled her eyes and breathed in again to calm herself down. It was almost no use; just the thought of that incompetent Bunny-Butt infuriated the little redhead. Carefully she opened the large doors leading into the classroom and tentatively walked down the aisle that separated the two sides of the room assigned to the Gryffindors and Slytherins, respectively. At the front of the room Professor Flitwick stood on top of a large pile of books, it seemed he was right in the middle of a lesson.

'Pardon, Professor,' Ginny said, her voice rather raspy. The small body of Flitwick paused a bit, appearing as if he had heard something, but wasn't quite sure what it was he had heard.

Ginny cleared her throat and tried again. 'Professor Flitwick—er, Professor?'

Flitwick spun around rather abruptly, consequently knocking himself over into his mountain of books. Ginny only heard a little squeal and an 'oomf!' before she decided to investigate any possible injuries her surprise visit could have caused her Charms professor.

She rushed over to him along with several other students, Hermione included. 'Ginny?' she said, confused, as she lifted a very flushed Flitwick from the pile of books. 'What are you doing here?'

Ginny, also somewhat pink in the face from having caused Flitwick to become a human domino, grabbed onto Flitwick's shoulder and said, 'Snape's had me fetch Malfoy.'

'Oh, Gin! This hasn't got anything to do with that little battle of hexes you two had in the dungeons the other day, has it?' Hermione asked.

Flitwick got to his feet and to the class he announced, 'Lucky I put a Cushion Charm on those books, eh?' and chuckled a bit.

'Sorry about that, Professor,' Ginny said to him quietly. Then to Hermione she added, 'How d'you know about that?'

'That was you, was it? Well, then, Miss Weasley, I do say it is quite alright, only I'd prefer it if next time you'd come into view before knocking me into fright!' said Flitwick. 'Now, my dear, what was it you wanted?'

Ginny, a tad preoccupied listening to Hermione ramble on about how everyone knew what had happened between Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy that day in the dungeons, had only begun paying attention to Flitwick's little monologue just as soon as he had asked her his second question and really had no idea what it was about.

'Sorry?' she said, quite at a loss and much too embarrassed to improvise.

'My dear! You come into my classroom, frighten me into oblivion, humiliate me in front of my students, and you say you haven't a reason for this sort of disruption? That sort of behaviour is quite inappropriate in this world—'

'Professor, believe me I'm sorry—and I've got a reason for all of this as well—just, please—listen—'

'Yes, Miss Weasley. Continue on. You've got my full attention—after all, who wouldn't want to know why they'd been pushed over into a pile of books?' The Charms Professor seemed to get a kick out of repeating all of his unfortunate occurrences.

'Er, well, I'm here to fetch Malfoy. The Headmaster would like to see him, sir.' Ginny was sure her face matched the exact bright red of her hair. It was somewhat embarrassing, in fact.

A loud chorus of 'boos' came from what Ginny interpreted to be the Slytherin side of the room. Malfoy emerged and accosted the very red Weasley. 'One hand on her, Malfoy,' said a voice opposite the Slytherins. Ron approached the little congregation at the front of the room, ears red and wand pointed threateningly at the smirking, blond boy.

'Mister Malfoy, if the Headmaster wishes to see you, I advise you comply with his request,' said Flitwick.

'Right, thank you, Professor,' Malfoy said methodically. He turned to Ron, said, 'Like I'd really lay one finger on that bloody piece of scum,' and then smirking grabbed Ginny by the sleeve of her robe, walking out of the classroom and into the hallway.

'Let—go—of me!' Ginny yelled through gritted teeth as soon as they had reached the corridor.

Draco didn't need telling twice. He happy obliged, pushing her sleeve away rather violently. Poor Ginny nearly repeated the unfortunate spill of her Charms professor only minutes before. 'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing—?' she spluttered, as she attempted to regain her balance.

Draco smirked. 'You know, Flitwick and you would make one wicked comedy act together. Perhaps with your earnings you could get your family a decent home, something apart from that nasty old shoe you currently call home.'

Unfortunately for Draco, Ginny was not unbalanced enough not to give him a rightly deserved knock in the face. Which was exactly what she did, actually.

'Oh, you've done it now, you little Weasel!' said he, and he stumbled a bit, too, clutching his jaw.

Ginny, rubbing her fist on her robe furiously as though it were contaminated, said, 'Seems I'm not the only one who'll be joining that little comedy act. Flitwick and I have been thinking—we need a third Stooge, and I believe you'll do perfectly. You'd make a lovely Larry.'

Draco looked at her, completely bewildered. 'Honestly, are you too daft to speak properly? What are you going on about?'

'Oh, just one of the many advantages of being a Muggle-lover, that's all,' Ginny said indignantly. 'I get a look outside what we of wise knowledge call the "narrow mind." Nothing quite like yours, Malfoy, though.'

Draco took this as an opportunity to collect his pride. 'Because I am superior to even you and your wise knowledge,' he said, puffing up his chest.

Ginny decided to humour him. 'Yes Malfoy. You're way of thinking is so superior to my wise knowledge, it has popped and fallen down the trail of humankind's nearly perfect progression in intelligence. I say "nearly" because you and the rest of your lot of Malfoys came about and disrupted it.'

Draco sneered at the little redhead, his head filling with all sorts of revenge. He thought possibly he and Ruscher could come up with small-sized attacks and ready the Weasel for the grand finale. Yes, he thought, as he fingered his throbbing jaw, that's exactly what we'll do.

A/N: Whoooooooo. It's been almost a year since I updated this last. I came back to it . . . deciding maybe I should try and finish something for once, and thought this story had lots of potential.

SHOULD I FINISH IT?

Tell me in a review!

Cheers and tootles!

--blufiresprite