Posted 9/3/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Fifty - Compromise

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Drying her hair, Daphne checked herself in the mirror. Was it odd that she didn't find her own reflection strange anymore? She had grown accustomed to the new eye – it still worked, but any hope of it changing to look more natural had ceased. She had come to terms with it never getting that same blue colour and keeping the brown and sickly yellow specks. And what looked like strange, pale veins still led to the eye itself, even if they had faded a bit. The scar on the right side of her face was still as prominent as it had been before, though, as there was little doubt that it had indeed been dark magic that had caused it. Then there were those scars on her belly. She traced them with her fingers. Granger had probably done what she could, but it hadn't healed properly, leaving her with pronounced ridges of gnarled skin – three long marks from her bellybutton to her side. Dark magic once again. Looking over her shoulder, her back was also not nearly as smooth as she would have liked; in fact, it looked like an old burn scar.

Scarred. Damaged. Yes, it made no sense to deny it. And she could have lived with it, if only she would have had a good story about them. There was no shame in a gruesome scar as long as it had a good story to it. Had she gotten the ripped belly by a vicious beast whose claws left incurable damage while saving a child, well, even the most heartless of people would have to acknowledge the disfigurement as a well-earned. Had she lost her eye to a curious, rare disease, she might have passed it off as bad luck. But no, she had to get her wounds at the hands of a former friend, lying at his feet. Still, she had gotten used to her scars, and she felt strong again; strong and even a bit confident.

With a sigh, she dried off her body, wondering about the future. True, should Harry win his war, she would have to live with him as a husband for a while – assuming they both survived it – but she hadn't thought about what she wanted in life, truly wanted. Yes, an enchantress did sound great, and unless she was mistaken, there would be a lot of work after the war, but at the same time, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to do that. After spending months in the house, travelling for a while sounded more interesting. She could see the world, learn about magic she had never heard of. She could enjoy the sun and the freedom for a while.

She dressed quickly and left the bathroom, ready to find herself some food. Or maybe she should go to the library, she wondered. It wouldn't hurt, and depending on what time it was, she might just be better off reading and waiting for dinner.

Lost in her thoughts, she stood around, mulling it over. There had been a very interesting tome she had wanted to get a look at, but hadn't dared with Harry around. It hadn't seemed like a spellbook, technically, but more like a work on comparative magic across cultures. He might have let her have a look at it, Daphne realized, since his main concern had been her gaining access to dark and dangerous magic, but that book wasn't covered by their original agreement.

Or maybe she could go to her room, she thought. A nice little nap might just be the right thing. True, she had slept well the last two nights – one in Harry's room, although not planned, and one in her own – but after her training, a little rest might be a good idea.

Her mind lingered for a moment on the night in Harry's room. She hadn't meant to fall asleep of course, but tiredness had caught up to her. One moment, she had enjoyed his company, hugging him back, the next, she had woken to find herself lying on the bed with him gone. It had bothered her a lot, for more reasons than one. He had to have woken up before her, finding her – what? How had he found her? She hadn't dared asking, but had caught him smirking when he had seen her that morning, so she assumed it hadn't been as dignified as she would have hoped. He had also seen fit to take off her houseshoes, apparently, and put her properly on his bed instead of waking her. While a nice gesture in theory, it did mean she had slept through someone shifting her weight around, whether by magic or, as Daphne suspected, by hand.

Still, she didn't regret that night. It had been a nice change of pace, she had slept rather well for a change, and it had been a one-time thing. She was allowed to unwind once, wasn't she? Nothing had changed, they were still friends, weren't they? Yes, they were, she decided. So it meant nothing at all, and it had no consequences.

"... not," drifted a voice over to her. Daphne blinked, recognizing Granger had spoken somewhere.

"Well, if you have a better idea, I'm all ears," Harry argued against it, and this time, Daphne could make out the direction. They were upstairs, and whispering animatedly. "But I have to start sometime – it's a lot of work, after all. I'm not sure where to start, but I have to change it up. True, I'm not completely done with my revisions, but it's also not the perfect solution to our problems. I'll have to look elsewhere for inspiration. Why not from the Blacks? One more influence..."

"Not a good one, though," Granger interrupted.

"Give me time and trust that I know what I'm doing, that's all I'm asking." His voice had dropped further until Daphne had to strain her ear to hear anything. "Once I figure out how to get you into the library..."

"How about some training?" Granger interrupted perhaps a bit too hastily. Daphne guessed Granger didn't want to think about the library she apparently couldn't enter yet. "It's been a while since you taught Ron and me something."

"There isn't much to teach in terms of spells, but I guess I could do it," Potter's reply came, sounding thoughtful. "Maybe we could invite Fred and George as well. Charlie might have something worthwhile, did you ask him? It's kind of a rare opportunity to have a dragon handler around, I bet they learn something powerful."

"Sounds like a good idea," Granger mused. "A dragon handler. I hadn't thought about that, but you're right. If he's up for it..."

"I'll ask Daphne whether she wants to join us," Harry added to keep the talk going, from the sound of it.

"You want... Greengrass with us?" Granger asked hesitantly. Daphne rolled her eyes.

"I do, actually," Harry replied calmly. Daphne wasn't sure just how calm he really was, but didn't think too hard on it. "Ignoring for a moment that it would be quite complicated to get everyone in the training room without her noticing – so we'd need a good explanation for her, at least – there is also the matter of her being our ally for the time being. Who knows, maybe she's willing to teach us something? Hey, don't look at me like that, okay? I've spent a bit of time with her, training and... and imparting my wisdom or learning or whatever you want to call it." Daphne suppressed a snort, having a hunch what Harry had originally thought of – their shared time in the library Granger couldn't enter. "But even if she's only there to learn," Harry continued, "where's the harm in that? She is our ally. I trust her. She has to be prepared for Malfoy anyway, so why not let her join? I wasn't thinking about any really secret spells anyway – I wouldn't show you blood freezers or the like."

Daphne had to grin. The blood freezer had been something she had found in one of the books. Funny Harry would mention that one, but she guessed he had picked that spell intentionally. From what she guessed, he found it equally amusing to mention a spell Daphne already knew.

"If I didn't know it any better, I'd say you don't like her," Harry added with a chuckle.

"It's not about like or dislike," Granger brought up. "So you trust her..."

"I do," Harry confirmed at once. Daphne suppressed a smile at hearing that.

"So you trust her," Granger repeated, "and you also trust Professor Snape. To some extent," Granger continued, cutting off whatever Harry had been about to say. "But just because you trust someone doesn't mean you have to include them in everything, in Greengrass' case, bring her in and help her achieve her goal. It's not about like or dislike, it's about common sense. I'm worried about what she might learn that we don't want her to know. Or what she might guess." There was something in her voice that told Daphne Harry and Granger both knew what she was talking about. "Something we – or rather, you – might not want to share. You trust the twins?"

"I probably shouldn't," Harry laughed, "but to some extent, yes."

"And yet you don't want them to know what you... we've been doing, do you?"

"No, I don't," he admitted. "So that's it, then? You think I shouldn't be too trusting?"

"I think you shouldn't grant her priviledges you can't take away again without raising questions. Say we do allow her to join us, and in a few weeks, you want to start preparing for the final confrontation. How do you explain that she's no longer welcome to join you? And you don't know what she will do with whatever you've been teaching her already."

"I'm kind of curious to find out what she'll do, actually," Harry said, chuckling. "It might be funny to see her give Malfoy what he deserves."

"Revenge is not a good motivation, Harry," Granger spoke up. "You knew that once, remember? In third year?"

"I do remember, yes. I also remember the price I had to pay, Hermione." This time, no joking note was to his voice. It sounded hard, bitter. "Puts that whole justice thing into perspective, doesn't it? If I'd let them kill him..."

"That's not..." Granger began, but he cut her off.

"I know that, Hermione, I know that." He seemed oddly tired all of a sudden. "But look around you. Had I been just a bit less compassionate, we might have brought Pettigrew in alive, but stunned, for example. Or critically wounded – if the choice is death or life-long imprisonment, I think even Pettigrew would choose the latter. Had I acted instead of standing by, I might have brought him down in that graveyard. One curse would have been enough. All my senses had told me something was off the moment we landed there, but I had been too foolish and hesitant to act. We're in this mess partly because I was too kind when I shouldn't have been.

"You don't want to work with Greengrass because she wants her revenge. Well, I say we have to take everyone we can get. If she wants Malfoy dead, she can have him, and I for one hope she will rip him to shreds. One less Death Eater is one less enemy in my way, and she does deserve some kind of closure. You advise me to be careful around her and think about what I allow and what not. However, we can't keep her out without giving her a good reason for why we don't want her there, and that might very well raise the suspicion you worry about. I say I want her there. I think she deserves the chance, and I do trust her."

After a long moment of silence, Granger sighed. "Then invite her if you want. I'll talk to the others."

Daphne hastened to get into her room, thinking about what she had overheard.


"And that's about it," Charlie said, glancing around the room. "Now, as I've said, it's not an easy spell by any stretch of the word, but when you're going up against a dragon, it does come in handy. And of course, it also works on other materials, just as long as it is inflexible. So, I guess now would be the time for you to try it yourself. Just remember, a sharp upwards twitch, then a turn counter-clockwise – the closer to a circle, the better; and try keeping the same distance from the starting point – followed by the vertical jerks, down and up, finished by a sharp jab at the target. Now spread out along a line." With a jab of his wand, a wall rose from the ground to about shoulder-height.

Harry found himself between Hermione and Daphne, both itching to try the spell. Ron, standing next to Hermione, was already busy going over the motions and occasionally throwing the brunette witch covert glances when he thought no one noticed; Fred and George on the other end of the line watched their brother preparing the training room.

"Now then," Charlie said, walking over to them, "let's see what you can do with it."

Wands swishing, they each tried their luck. The twins managed to do something, but certainly not what they had meant to do – causing a crack in the wall. Daphne tried, but failed to get any result. Harry had a hunch what she had done wrong since her circle had looked somewhat triangular. Harry's own spell didn't work either, but he wasn't bothered by it. Hermione was of course closest to achieving the goal, but even she hadn't quite managed it. Ron only caused an explosion that blasted him off his feet. He had just landed on his butt when Hermione was already busy fussing over him.

"Don't worry," Charlie told them, watching his youngest brother getting helped to his feet by a still worried Hermione. "It does take a while to get it down." Then he went around, watching them try the spell and pointing out what each of them had done wrong.

Meanwhile, Harry thought about the past days. It had become bothersome to have the Weasleys around, he felt. He liked them, of course, but their presence also meant being careful with talks about Harry's secret war. Charlie was less of a problem, but the twins' natural curiosity meant a risk, especially if they were meant to leave sometime anyway. What if they carried the news about Harry's plans and actions into the world?

About a quarter of an hour later, Hermione was busy helping Ron who seemed slightly distracted by her guiding hands, the twins were getting closer to consistent results, and Daphne had started discreetly questioning Charlie about slightly darker spells that would also work on humans, Harry busied himself with training some of his combat stances.

"That's enough for the moment," Charlie announced, drawing attention to himself. "Don't underestimate the power you'll need for the spell. Now, as you've noticed, the eventual crack is determined by the rotation of the wand movement. If you start with a twitch to the side, the eventual crack should be horizontal. It's a bit odd, especially since you're used to keeping the wand movements exactly as you've learned them, but with a bit of rest and some additional training, I'm confident you'll manage it."

"If you say so," George said, covertly glancing to Ron.

"Any suggestions or questions?" Charlie asked.

Harry stepped over looking at his friends. "Well, if you're up for it, I have something I could teach you – reflective shields."

"You've told us about those already," Ron brought up with Hermione nodding by his side.

"True; I've taught Hermione and you, but the others might not know about them yet," Harry replied, shrugging. "So why not?"

"I've heard about them," Charlie spoke up, "but since it's not part of a dragon handler's usual skillset, I haven't had the chance to learn it yet. Sounds interesting."

"Right," Harry began, nodding, "it isn't that complicated in theory, but getting it to work can be tricky. Protego, the shield taught to children at Hogwarts, does work quite well, but it's based around withstanding spellfire. They can be overcome quite easily by sending strong spells against the shield. That's where reflecting comes into play – instead of enduring the attack, that modified shield allows you to send many spells to the side. It's something Aurors learn, and if used right, can be quite useful – let's say, deflecting a harmful spell at another enemy. Granted, it doesn't allow you to throw it right back at your attacker, but to the side or in the ground. These shields don't fare that well against frontal attacks. They are also called mirroring shields. If you've ever looked into a mirror from the side, you'll know why. Charlie, you might have seen it already. Daphne, maybe you remember what happened in fourth year before Potions class when my spell collided with Malfoy's? Think that, only with a shield instead of spells as such.

"Now then, Hermione? Would you help me with a demonstration? You attack me?"

They took their respective places, and no sooner had they dropped into combat stances that Hermione sent a rain of spells in Harry's direction who cast his shield. The moment Hermione's attacks hit Harry's shield, they ricocheted off to the side. True to his previous lesson, she moved sideways, trying to control the angle the spell was reflected with until she finally managed to shatter it. Her next spell sailed past Harry.

Calling a stop, Harry turned to the others. "Well, that's about it, actually. Naturally, angling the shield just right means you can deflect it wherever you want."

After a further explanation, Harry split them into pairs; Ron faced Hermione since both had previous knowledge of the spell, Charlie took it upon himself to duel Daphne while the twins worked off to the side.

"And remember," Harry called out, "try changing the angle to break the shield to give both sides a feeling where the limits are, just in case you're fighting someone who uses it against you someday. No use wasting precious time if your spells are just redirected, right? And one last thing, please stick to harmless spells. We wouldn't want to hurt anyone, would we?"

The next quarter of an hour, Harry spent dodging stray spells. Hermione had naturally mastered the Mirroring Shields already, and it was for the best as it gave Ron time to focus exclusively on shielding. Charlie and Daphne were progressively getting better, and Harry was happy to see both were getting consistent results. The twins weren't that far behind, but seemed to shatter each other's shield more often than the other teams.

"All right," he called, drawing everyone's attention. "I think you've seen how it works now, and you should by now have some idea as to where the deflected spell will end up. Now, those shields can deal with a lot, but some spells just don't work that way. The Unforgivables, naturally, but there are also some darker spells that don't follow the rules, as well as some more harmless spells. And it should be noted that mirroring shields only work against spells, not conjurations. So don't trust the shields to help you against everything, but at least they don't usually take that much out of you and can buy you precious moments.

"I think we should do some duelling now, just to keep our senses sharp. Same pairings as before, I'll join..."

"Sorry, Harry," Charlie interrupted, "but I think I'll better go lie down. Learning something, teaching something, fine, but jumping around in my state? Better not."

"Fine," Harry replied, "I'll partner with Daphne. See you later, Charlie."

"Err, Harry," George spoke up while his brother left the room, "mind if we mix it up a bit? For example, Ron and Greengrass..."

"Forget it," Ron interrupted.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna leave as well. Three duels in one room is just asking for trouble."

"Fine," Fred sighed, "I'll face Ron and George Hermione. Later, we'll switch. Harry, you'll give us pointers, all right?"

Harry scratched his cheek. "Well, fine by me, but why?"

The twins exchanged a glance. "Well," George said, shrugging, "we know each other too well. The moment one of us starts a spell, the other will know what it is. It'd be like fighting with yourself – we wouldn't try guessing what spell the other one would use, but what we'd use. It's bound to be a stalemate, you know? Also, we're itching to hex Ron, so..."

After a moment of ignoring Ron's angry growls, Harry nodded, frowning. There was some truth to that, he mused. It had been why he had wanted to learn about Voldemort's skills – to know what Riddle would use in combat. And wasn't that why Harry wanted to incorporate Black family magic into his style? He wouldn't win with Tickling Charms or Tripping Hexes, and he doubted disarming would buy him much time – Voldemort also knew Harry preferred that handy spell. No, if Harry wanted to make sure he'd be ready, he needed some secrets of his own, something to give him an advantage to balance out the ruthlessness of a Dark Lord.

Well, Harry mused, Riddle had never played Quidditch, for one. And Harry was slightly smaller, making him a smaller target. And ultimately, he had insights into Riddle's mind and understood his opponent better. And, now that he thought about it, Harry also had rather good reflexes and was likely slightly more agile as well. And then there was a simple truth he would have to keep in mind as well – don't fight fair. There was no use in a reckless charge against a superior enemy, after all, but if Hermione and he put their heads together some time, they might come up with something the Death Eaters wouldn't expect to gain some advantage. Couldn't they use some kind of trickery?


It had taken a while to get Harry alone with the houseguests busy elsewhere, but in the end, Hermione and Ron managed it. They found him bent over some pieces of parchment on the table in his room. The moment they entered, he looked up.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted. "There's something we wanted to talk to you about – if you have the time. It's important, though, so you really should take the time."

He sighed, but nodded. "What is this about, then?"

As if to answer, Hermione pulled her wand and put up protections. Ron watched her for a while. When she was happy with her work, Hermione addressed Harry. "It's about the war – specifically, your plans for it."

"Didn't we talk about this before?" Harry wondered with a half-hearted smile that neither of his friends returned.

"Your plan so far amounts to killing Nagini, then Riddle."

"Until Nagini's been taken care of, I can't be sure whether Riddle isn't immortal right now," Harry pointed out. "And trying to kill an immortal is futile. Even if I destroy the body he currently has, he can simply inhabit someone else again. Nagini first."

"I know that," Hermione agreed. When Ron made to speak, she continued, "We know that, but then what? Open warfare? Assassinations from the shadows until he runs out of followers?"

"That's not much of a plan," Ron added.

"And you won't win the war by getting rid of Riddle alone, will you?" Hermione pointed out. "There are still those who have too much to lose to accept defeat like that. You'll need some kind of strategy. You don't have an army to rival his. You don't have a back-up plan, much less a plan to begin with."

"I have the Order ready to lend a hand," Harry argued.

"Not an army like his," Hermione sighed. "But fine, let's say the Order helps you. What then? Do you plan to give them a friendly pat on the back and fling them in the middle of a battle?"

He shrugged. "Well, we'll see what we can do. I know what you mean – how do you depose a dictator?"

"Without open warfare," Hermione added. "Grindelwald was defeated because the half of Europe's magical community rose against him. They had strong leaders everyone listened to. Do you think we can do the same now?"

"We have me," Harry said, chuckling. "If the Boy-Who-Lived tells the population of magical Britain to fight for their freedom..."

"That can't be your plan," Hermione interrupted.

"Well, why not? But no, it's not the complete plan. So you want to discuss my ideas, huh?"

"That's why we came, yeah," Ron spoke up.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Harry conjured two chairs for his friends. "Well, let's see. What needs to be done in the first place? What are we going up against?"

"You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters," Ron said, sitting down.

"The Snatchers might get involved," Hermione added from her seat. "And possibly some magical creatures. Werewolves, for example. Giants."

"And the Ministry," Harry finished. "Well, how about this? We'll group them according to their priority. Riddle has to die, no doubt about that. I can't see his Death Eaters backing down. They have too much to lose; you said so yourself."

"We can't kill them all," Hermione argued, looking worried Harry might disagree with her. "We'd be talking about dozens of people. A convenient death in battle for all of them won't be easy. I doubt the Order would go along with us ordering the Death Eaters deaths, so unless you want to do it all on your own..."

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "Still, going out of our way to not kill them would be needlessly bothersome. If one of them dies, so be it. I think they'll probably ask for it when it's time, so deadly force against them shouldn't be that hard to justify. I'm not quite sure about the magical creatures, though. Are the werewolves loyal to Riddle or not?"

"Lupin usually made it sound like they wanted something out of it – more rights, more victims," Hermione reminded them. "And the giants... weren't they lured in by promises from the Death Eaters?"

"He said that, yeah," Ron added. "Does it matter?"

"It matters, I think," Harry mused. "Do we have the obligation to hunt down the werewolves if they flee from the battle? Ignoring that, if we don't intentionally pick a fight with them during a full moon, they'll be humans. Mostly, that is, but they won't be wolves either. What about the giants? If they were lured in by promises, but don't believe Riddle, they might abandon him once they've lost."

"Giants fleeing from a battle?" Ron laughed.

"They might choose to fight among themselves. But apart from wondering about their hypothetical choices, will we have the numbers to fight those who'd rather leave? Will we have the numbers to hunt down magical creatures and beasts alike? So maybe something like that: If they fight, they fight. If they abandon Riddle, the Death Eaters have higher priority. 'Don't threaten a cornered animal,' or something like that. If the opportunity presents itself to take down some of them without trouble, we should go for it."

"What about the Snatchers?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty much the same, aren't they?" Harry told her. "They may be crooks, but if they abandon Riddle..."

"You can't want them getting away!" Ron shouted, almost jumping to his feet.

"Not more than letting the werewolves get away and possibly run rampant. It's not about wanting something, though," Harry reminded Ron. "Let's say there are maybe a dozen Snatchers at the final battle. Mid-way through, they flee. Do we chase them down or do we focus on the Death Eaters? It's about the lesser evil, Ron. The Snatchers are crooks who do whatever they're ordered to. The Death Eaters do it in part because they agree with the general idea and have too much to lose to give up. I'd rather let some petty criminal escape than the Death Eaters. The Snatchers aren't the biggest problem. They might have committed crimes in the name of what they call justice, but they're the smaller fry."

"So the Death Eaters are our main concern, then," Hermione agreed.

"For the actual fight, yes, but the Death Eaters aren't the most complicated issue." Harry spoke up, glancing to a stack of parchment.

"They aren't?" Ron asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"They aren't, no. They're the enemy – they fight, they die. That's pretty straight-forward."

"It's the Ministry we should worry about," Hermione said, nodding slowly.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "They support Riddle right now. They are working against us. They do have a powerful base of operations. And more troubling, they aren't all ardent supporters. Or I hope they aren't or our situation'll be even worse than I had thought. But if they aren't all supporters, how do we separate our enemies from the rest who might be swayed to our side? So what to do with them? If we could manage to steal such a power from Riddle, it would make our job far easier."

"Can't say they've done much in the past," Ron grunted.

"True, but they aren't all bad," Hermione reminded him. "Your father still works for the Ministry. Others might be willing to help us once it's safe. Whether they're cowards or not, but if they can be swayed, it would be a huge success for us. If we could get them to join our side..."

"They'd be crushed before the day is over," Ron finished the sentence. "He'll have spies everywhere by now. The moment we try anything, he'll know. And we also don't know who isn't bad. They could be imperiused. The Ministry is our enemy, Harry."

They were silent for a while. "I'd prefer keeping the Ministry out of the final battle," Harry spoke up in the end. "There'll be those who support Riddle. Keeping those away means less people for us to fight. There'll be those who are too scared to fight against the injustice. While they're part of the problem, keeping them away from the fight means they can help us once the dust settles and we have to rebuild Magical Britain. There'll be those who are just waiting for the signal to strike back. While I could find some use for them, there'll be enough work for them to do on their own." Seeing Ron's confused expression, Harry smiled. "Well, there will be those who support Riddle. Someone has to deal with them, right? Someone has to arrest them or keep them busy while we fight the oppression. So it's either smuggling our forces into the Ministry to arrange a second take-over or inciting an uprising within the Ministry and let them duke it out on their own. I'm in favour of the latter."

"Why keep the Ministry around at all, though?" Ron wondered. "We could bring it down so it can't do anything for Riddle. A crippled, weakened Ministry, you know? It's not like they did anything right in the past years. If we brought it down now..."

"Hundreds of Ministry workers, a base of operations with many protections, enough secret entrances and exits to withstand weeks or months of siege if they want to, spies in probably every department – certainly too many to root them all out – and considerably more forces than we could muster, not to mention the risk of getting caught between the Ministry and the Death Eaters' relief forces... We can't just storm the Ministry. We can't bring it down from inside either without replacing Riddle's spies with our own – tedious work, especially since he had years of getting them in place. And keep in mind, once the Ministry would be gone, there'd be nothing keeping order at all. Yes, they're oppressing the people right now, but they do offer some form of stability. Removing the Ministry now or even weakening it to the point where they can't operate will lead to anarchy. How long do you think it would take until the strong would rule over the weak? And who'd keep the Floo network running? What about law enforcement? Or the Statue of Secrecy?"

"You can't know that," Ron tried to argue.

"Ron, why do you think Riddle's still keeping the Ministry around and mostly functional? It's because having some semblance of a government and laws around is advantageous. It means some order; it means a running Floo network that can be used against dissenters and monitored; it means a threshold for crime. Petty thieves are still arrested, even if they're likely offered a choice between getting punished and working for Riddle. It means the Ministry is seen doing something. It has to do something about criminals; it has to keep a lot of services running. I may not like the Ministry much, but it does have some uses. Not even an egocentric megalomaniac got rid of it, so why should we? Worse, we'd create a power vacuum. What's the strongest organized force currently around that could step in the moment the Ministry is gone? It's a necessary evil, in short. And keep in mind, if we can manage to bring the Ministry to our side some time in the future, we can have them deal with some of the problems. I do want some form of law and lustice after the war, and I don't want to rebuild our society from scratch. Know how to choose your fights, Ron."

"So," Hermione spoke up, trying to keep the discussion running, "Nagini and Riddle will have to die."

"No news there," Harry agreed.

"The Snatchers and the magical creatures aren't top priority."

"Ideally, we keep them from going after us as much as possible. No need risking our allies in needless skirmishes," Harry added with a nod.

"Sounds reasonable, yes. If they do attack us, they'll have to be dealt with, though."

"Naturally," Harry said, shrugging. "But if we take away their choice between fighting us and fleeing, they will fight for the lives and freedom. That can turn ugly very quickly. It's just that chasing after them when there are more dangerous enemies around is kind of stupid. If we can manage it, taking as many Snatchers out – capturing them, ideally," he added when he saw Ron about to protest, "is still a good idea. They should have to answer for their crimes one way or another, but I'd rather let them get away than some Death Eaters."

"And lastly, you want to keep the Ministry out of as much confrontations as possible, hoping to keep it functional for the time after the war."

"Pretty much, yes."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Hermione wondered. "You said something about a final battle, for example."

"Ah, well, it's just logical to expect Riddle will keep out of as many confrontations as possible. So the one time he will have to fight will be once we've cornered him. That when I don't want the Ministry around, for example. I don't want to have to worry about going easy on some of our enemies. If it's just Death Eaters and Riddle, I won't have to hold back."

"And that's your plan?" Hermione asked with a doubtful voice.

"Not much of one," Ron said, snorting.

"I disagree," Harry told them, leaning forward a bit. "It means there will be a final battle – how could there not be? Since Riddle probably wouldn't stay around if we storm his stronghold and would rather retreat and let his Death Eaters keep us busy than wait for us to confront him, attacking him won't work. Similarly, he probably wouldn't lead an attack on us either. He'd sit back and enjoy the show, stepping in only for some gloating once we'd be nearly defeated. If we want to avoid casualties for our side, it doesn't make much sense letting it come to that. So we'll have to find some way to make him feel like he doesn't risk anything by coming to us right from the start. We'd have to set some trap. Granted, I haven't figured out what kind of trap, but it's a start. Until then, we could try keeping our troops alive and ready."

"So, that's it?" Ron spoke up. "No secret plan, no surprise for us? Just getting ready to fight them head-on?"

"Well, we could try coming up with a few surprises, I guess. I said we'd lure him into a trap, I never said we'd be playing or fighting fair. If the twins can figure out some way to see even with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, well, that'd be a start. If the Death Eaters can't see but we can... I've been trying to come up with one or two tricks of my own." Seeing Hermione's raised eyebrow, he chuckled. "Well, the memories I've integrated as of late haven't been the most educational, but they might still be useful. Tell me, Hermione, do you think the Unforgivables can be blocked?"

"They are," Ron spoke up, grunting. "Every child knows that."

"Every magical child knows that," Harry corrected. "Mostly because they were told. I survived one unblockable Killing Curse."

"Only thanks to your mother's protection, Harry," Hermione reminded him.

"We live in a world of time travel," Harry argued, "so why shouldn't the impossible be possible? So far, I haven't found a way to block it magically, but... Well, wizards are idiots, aren't they?" Ignoring Ron's protest, he added, "They always think about wands and magic."

With a snort, Hermione nodded. "I get it." Turning to Ron, she explained, "Matter, Ron. The Unforivables are still spells – once they hit matter, they sizzle out. Hide behind a wall and the spells won't hit you."

"Well, they'll just use some blasting spell, then," Ron pointed out, shrugging, "to get rid of the wall."

Hermione and Harry's eye met, and both grinned.

"Disillusionment?" she asked.

"Notice-Me-Nots as well," Harry added.

"Maybe we could do the same with riot shields," Hermione suggested. "Unless it becomes too unwieldy?"

"Probably, but we'll see," Harry agreed.

"So... you want to throw up walls between us and the Death Eaters?" Ron wondered.

"What, you think it wouldn't work?" Hermione challenged.

Blinking, he pursed his lips. "Well, it could work, yes, but... wouldn't it work both ways? Block our spells as well?"

"We'll think of something," Harry told him with a lazy wave. "But having something to block their spells is a start, if nothing else. We'll just have to think of some way to keep the Ministry out of our hair for the fights so we won't have to play nice."

"Easier said than done," Ron grumbled. "If he calls, they'll follow, won't they?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, if we don't care what the Ministry does, we could try some distractions. Harry spoke about a threshold for crime earlier. Maybe we could use that to our advantage. Since the Ministry is tasked with keeping the peace, they'll have to act if we cause some disturbances. It would tie up some of their forces, at least."

Nodding slowly, Harry started to smile. "That could work, yes. Of course, we'd have to split our forces somewhat – an army to fight the Death Eaters and Riddle and some smaller teams causing trouble up and down the country. There you go. That wasn't that hard was it? Planning's easy."


She glanced at the parchment in front of her. There had to be some way to improve upon her work. The poison wouldn't be that much of a problem, she knew as much. There really were enough to choose from, and Hermione could probably find some more if she really wanted to. No, the main problem wasn't the load, but the capsules themselves.

Her first tests had pointed to at most two hours of delay before the capsules broke. It wasn't enough, it wasn't even close to enough. They needed more to give them some leeway for Harry to feed the mark the poison and get away unnoticed. True, she could use charms, there were some to preserve potions for a while, but it wasn't ideal. For one, it would be magic that might get noticed. For another, many of those charms weren't designed to slow down the digestive processes. Those were the biggest problem, Hermione felt. Why hadn't magicals come up with something useful just for that? Centuries of research, and not once had one come up with something to fit Hermione's needs at the moment.

Maybe she should just leave it for a while, she mused. Maybe she'd have an idea when she'd least expect it? Hadn't that been how she had come up with using capsules in the first place? Or maybe talking to Harry would help. Maybe he could work with a mere two hours timeframe.

Sighing, she glanced towards the bubbling cauldron in the corner. Or should she try to modify the preservation spells? She could, reasonably speaking. Or she could try adding layers of capsules – filling one with the load, shrinking it a bit and putting it in another capsule. Repeating the process twice, she'd have somewhere around six hours. But then, it would be an awful lot of magic in one small spot, and some potions and ingredients didn't react that well to magic. Still, it might be worth a try, she reasoned. It wasn't as if she had anything to lose, was it? As long as she didn't choose a poison that reacted volatile to magical tampering...

"Ah, what do we have here?" a voice spoke up from the door. Hermione whirled around, seeing both twins standing there.

"Don't know, brother of mine," the other replied, tilting his head.

"What's she doing here, I wonder?" his twin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Working," Hermione replied curtly, watching both of them carefully. If she had learned one things about the twins, then that they usually brought trouble and chaos with them. "It's a potions lab, and I'm brewing potions."

"If you say so," the first twin said. "Have you seen Harry? George and I were looking for him."

"He's not here," Hermione told them, but instead of leaving, they stepped into the room.

Fred walked over to the cauldron, sniffing at the potion inside. Meanwhile, George sauntered over, eyes on the parchment. "That doesn't look like instructions for anything," he pointed out.

"Weren't you looking for Harry? I doubt he's in that cauldron," Hermione tried, but both twins were busy inspecting the room. "Well, have you tried finding Greengrass? Maybe she'll know something."

"Know something you don't about our Boy-Who-Lived?" Fred asked, chuckling.

"Mighty suspicious, my dear brother," George added.

"Ah, but they are married, aren't they?" Fred mused. "So Hermione might be right. Who knows what Greengrass has already seen of dear Harry?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione interrupted them. "They're just trying to get through this nonsense with as little complications as possible."

"And yet she might know where he is when you don't," Fred pointed out.

"What," his twin added, smirking, "does she hide him under her robes?"

"I've been down here for hours," Hermione ground out. "She might have talked to Harry some time; neither Ron nor I are desperate to."

"And Harry is?" George pointed out.

"Very interesting, my dear brother," Fred spoke up.

"Not really," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "He took it upon himself to keep an eye on her and make sure she's no risk. They talked; she gained his trust. He's the only one who does talk to her, though, and you know how Harry is with helping people. I mean, he invited her to our training, didn't he?"

"Very interesting," Fred repeated. Dipping his finger into the potion and liking it clean, he burped once. "A batch of Burping Brew, Miss Granger?"

"Something you'd like to tell us?" his twin continued, smiling.

"There's no real story to it," Hermione tried. "I just needed something simple and harmless to test something, and it was something that was relatively easy to make with the ingredients we have lying around."

"Test something?" George asked, pointing towards the parchment. "What's this then? Your test?"

Hermione nodded. "Well, yes. It's nothing special or even mind-blowing, just something to occupy my time with."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Fred spoke up, chuckling.

"Hermione," his twin added, "when someone says it's boring, then it likely isn't. If someone says it's highly interesting, it probably is."

"But it really isn't that interesting," she told them. "I'm trying to see whether some Muggle inventions could be modified for use in the Wizarding World."

"'Preservation Charms?'" George read off the parchment.

"Well, yes, why not?"

"And what are these?" Fred asked, pointing to the box of capsules.

"A muggle invention," Hermione replied, shrugging. "It's Muggle medicine."

"What, like sewing people back together, that kind of nonsense?" George interrupted.

"Well," Hermione answered with a glare, "first of all, it's not nonsense. Stitches work. Just because magicals can just wave their wand to heal wounds in a matter of moment doesn't mean Muggles have the same luxury. The same is true for many Muggle practices. Second of all, no one is forcing you to stay here or use any of that 'nonsense', least of all think about it."

"So what do these things do?" Fred asked, inspecting one of the capsules he had taken from the box.

Blinking, Hermione stopped herself from answering as she realized something. The twins were quite good at inventing, she had to admit, and they were curious about her experiments. For a brief moment, she saw all the mayhem they would cause with delayed pranks. Wouldn't it be like handing a dangerous weapon to a madman? On the other hand, she doubted the twins would cause as much lasting damage as Harry had in mind in the first place, so for the moment, Fred and George were the lesser of two evils. Reasonably speaking, she would profit from working with them. There was a major downside to it, of course – the twins might come too close to Harry's secret war plans and realize their involvement in the strange deaths up and down the country.

Then again, Hermione had already caused a lot of damage by letting the twins learn about capsules in the first place, hadn't she? The damage was already done, so she might as well reap the benefits.

"It's nothing special," Hermione repeated, trying to bait the twins a bit. "It's a small container filled with something useful. People swallow the container, which will dissolve before long, releasing its contents. Well, that's what I'm trying to do here – seeing whether I can't put some potions inside those capsules. Let's say, a bit of Blood Replenishment Potion. Of course, I'd have to find a way to put enough into one capsule to work decently since for some reason, the wizarding world still insists on giving spoonfuls of whatever potions they think is necessary."

"And whatever you put inside is released after a while?" Fred asked, exchanging a quick glance with his brother.

"And it could be anything a person would need to swallow?" George added as a smile grew on his face.

"Medicine!" Hermione moaned, trying to contain her smile. "Potions, nothing else!"

"That's what you think, Hermione," Fred spoke up. "Just think of the possibilities! Puking pastilles kicking in hours later!"

"Twenty-two Colours Potion covertly slipped," George continued, eyes shining.

"A delayed Polyjuice Potion!"

"Babbling Draught!"

"Pondering Potion?" Fred wondered with a shrug.

"It doesn't work that way," Hermione interrupted. "It doesn't delay the effect that long."

"Minor problems," George waved her off. "Do you know how long we had to tinker with the Daydream Charm?"

"Many of our inventions started with way less than this," his twin agreed. "All we'd have to do is come up with something to delay the effect even further. Can't be that hard, can it?"

"Well, it shouldn't be in theory, no, but..." she tried.

"Shush, Hermione," George spoke up, putting a finger to her lips. "You want our help with that? There wouldn't have been any need for games, you know? We're on the same side here, and we share a goal. Just think of what we can achieve together! It'll be our project, us three working together. This could be the first step towards a very profitable relationship."

Their smiles sent a shiver down her back, but she knew she couldn't back out any more. "Miss Granger," Fred said, rubbing his hands, "I think we can come to an agreement."


She glanced around the room nervously. Macmillan was standing in the corner, watching everyone nervously. The loss of Bones and Abbott had been hard on his house, and Bones' replacement as Prefect had made Megan Jones the third female Hufflepuff Prefect from their year with Patil, who had been Prefect the longest apart from Pansy, as the new Head Girl.

"And that's about it," Finnigan finished his explanations, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Hmm," Draco mused, leaning back. "Hmm. Very well. If that's all, then you're free to go. Finnigan, Brown, you're patrolling tonight. Jones, Macmillan, Patil, Goldstein... Parkinson," he sent Pansy a short glare, "stay behind for a moment." Once Brown had closed the door, he nodded at each of them in turn. "I want to urge all of you to keep a close eye on your house in these coming days. We can't expect the Gryffindors to behave, but the other houses need to be on their best behaviour. I fear these holidays may have given some of them some rebellious spirit. Patil, Goldstein, your house has proven its worth and loyalty over the last months. Still, it might be a good idea to make sure this doesn't change." He nodded towards the door, and both students took their leave. "Jones, I know you're lacking experience as a Prefect. It's a shame you didn't have the opportunity before, but you can prove yourself now, can't you?"

The girl nodded, swallowing. Draco sent her a smile that had Pansy barely keep from glaring at the girl. She couldn't allow her feelings to show.

"Macmillan, you're not new to this," Draco joked. "Do try to teach her what she needs to know. You two have the hardest job. We don't want any more surprises like Bones or Abbott, do we? No, we don't," he answered himself. "It's highly unfortunate that it is you who will have to work twice as hard to ensure the peace within the school. Do try in any case, and if you have problems with any of your housemates, don't hesitate bringing it to my attention. Also, try to find out whether Bones or Abbott have sympathizers among the students. I don't want anyone poisoning the minds of impressionable students behind my back." He nodded towards the door, and both headed towards the door.

"Well, Parkinson," he laughed tiredly, watching Jones and Macmillan leave, "you'll have the easiest job, of course. Just make sure your house knows not to react to the provocations of Gryffindor." The door closed, and he immediately dropped the cool demeanour. "Well, Pansy, what can you tell me? Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

She bit her lip. "Well, I can't say I haven't noticed some things," she began, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Millicent, she seems even more quiet than usual ever since we returned. I'm not sure, but I think her parents are at odds right now. It's a golden opportunity for her father, but... I can't say he's ever impressed me. I doubt he'll go far, so..."

"I know that already. Davis then," Draco asked. "What about her?"

Pansy glanced outside the window, trying to come up with something to say without telling Draco anything of importance. "Tracey, she's... Well, she's magical, that's for sure, and she's not a mudblood, of course, but..."

"I know," Draco interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Well, from what she said, they're worried. And she misses her father," Pansy added after a moment, glancing at Draco.

"The mudblood?" Draco said, showing no sign of comapssion. "I heard about that, yes. Unfortunate, of course, but no exceptions; you know that. Once he's cleared, it'll be a thing of the past. Those things just need some time. What else about Davis?"

"Nothing much. She's become more withdrawn and spends more time studying to distract herself. Well," Pansy tittered nervously, shaking her head, "I've seen her O.W.L.s and she definitely needs all the time she can get."

"Ah," Draco agreed, grimacing, "a shame, really, but you can't choose your housemates. She might have been better off in Hufflepuff, I think."

"Maybe," Pansy replied, but she couldn't deny the stab at the implied insult. Tracey was neither a shame nor Hufflepuff material. Surviving in Slytherin over the last months had required a fair amount of cunning, and if Pansy was right, then hiding her involvement with Potter's rebels all but demanded more ingenuity than many of their housemates had. Granted, it also required a lot of courage, but Pansy refused to imagine Tracey as a Gryffindor.

"Still, they aren't acting suspicious, and they seem to have calmed down a lot. I'll keep an eye on them and see what they do, but so far, there's no reason to worry. But," she bit her lip, hesitating, "Blaise. I think I've seen him lurking around here and there. He's withdrawn himself and spends a lot of time alone. Now, I'm not saying he's up to something, but..."

Draco frowned. "Well, that doesn't sound good, I have to admit. Blaise, huh? He doesn't seem stupid enough to try anything."

"Maybe it's something else?" Pansy offered, happy Draco seemed to have taken the bait. "Maybe he's fallen in love?"

"I'd be surprised if he knew what love is, what with his mother killing all of her husbands," Draco laughed. "Zabini in love? Heh. Well, all right, you've given me your report. Do keep an eye on things, Pansy. You've done a great job so far. I'm proud of you."

His smile made her shiver. His words were like honey. For a brief moment, it was as if the last two years had never been. For a moment, it was the best time of her life again; just her and Draco, the thrill of anticipation, knowing he was hers and she was his. But the moment was gone in the blink of an eye. She knew what Draco had done – no, she didn't know, Pansy corrected in her mind, she felt it. She felt the dull pain of sorrow like a bleeding wound. It was mourning for her friends, for both of them; for Daphne, chased from the castle and perhaps long dead, and for Draco, the sweet, ambitious boy she had fallen in love with before all the madness of the war had caught up with them.

Draco shuffled some of the pieces of parchment on the table, his mind elsewhere. Pansy's eyes found his slightly parted lips. He had grown up into a very good-looking young man indeed, from the elegant features befitting his noble birth to the deportment even some purebloods struggled with. She'd known he'd become handsome.

She stepped closer, drawing his attention, but he didn't push her away. Her hands moved over his chest and to his beautiful hair. Close as they were, she hesitated as she caressed his face. Finally, she closed the distance, and once more, she was the giggly fifth-year, hiding in some closet with the boy she had known she was destined for – the only one she'd ever love. The kiss was just as tender, his hands just as gentle as they had been in the past. She tasted her ambrosia.

But it wasn't meant to last forever. He broke the kiss, sending her one of those smiles that made her weak – a smile that told her of the love he still felt for her, that she'd be the only one for him. A smile that made her feel closer to him than ever after long months of seperation, close enough that she thought she could feel his heartbeat against her chest.

"Pansy," he whispered, "you know we can't. Not right now, at least. They'll wonder where you are, and I wouldn't be surprised if Brown or Finnigan or one of the others lingered behind to watch. I don't trust them. Not like I trust you." Kissing her temple, he added, "You'd better run now."

Pansy did step away, swallowing hard. With a last glance, she made up her mind. After another short kiss she had stolen from him, she left. The moment the door closed behind her, the ache in her chest redoubled. It should have been Draco and her, a sweet couple without a care in the world. A match like no other, perhaps; two lover who had found each other, love at first sight. Didn't they complement each other? She had known it, so had he. And yet, despite neither being in a relationship, they couldn't be together. Worse, she couldn't show her feelings, but had to close off her heart when all she wanted was to return to the way things had been years ago.

But a lot had changed since then. Tracey had to fear for her family. Millicent had retreated even more. Daphne was gone and maybe even dead. Draco had changed as well, had left behind the boy he had once been and had closed off his heart as well. To lock out the pain perhaps? That had to be it, Pansy decided, but it hurt her even more to know that. And Pansy herself had changed since her world had. She couldn't trust Draco with everything any more. She needed to keep secrets from him to protect her friends from trouble. And thinking about Draco now meant a deep sadness and the fear of losing what he had once been.

How had it come to this? Why couldn't things have continued the way they had before?

In no time at all, Pansy had reached the entrance to the Common Room. Giving the password, she ducked inside. Not many people were around. In one corner, a group of fifth-years were frantically working on some essay. A sixth-year seemed intent on impressing some younger boy with some tale that involved a lot of waving and glares, but it didn't matter. Pansy had an idea the sixth-year was telling about some hilarious exploit from the holidays – maybe some Muggle hunting? From the parchment strewn across some tables, Pansy could tell others were around, maybe out to find some snack. She guessed some of her housemates were strolling around the Lake or otherwise outside, but she didn't feel like joining them. The only real surprise was Astoria in the corner, reading a book that didn't look anywhere close to school-related and strangely familiar.

When Pansy had almost reached the younger girl, Astoria looked up, smiling.

"The meeting is finished, then?" she greeted.

"There wasn't much to talk about," Pansy replied, shrugging. "Some Gryffindors were causing trouble on the train..."

"I heard about that," Astoria interrupted, nodding.

"Yes, but it's mostly sorted out now." Glancing at the other girl, Pansy hesitated before asking, "How were your holidays?"

Astoria blinked, but a small smile appeared on her face. "Oh, it was fine for the most part. Mother wanted to force me to talk about Daphne, but it wasn't that bad. We spent a lot of time together, just my parents and I."

Pansy bit her lip. "It must have been hard for them, not knowing what happened to their daughter. I feel for them."

"Well, don't," Astoria advised. "Maybe now everyone's at peace with the world. Sometimes, a bad thing can turn out to be good, you know? It can force people to grow, and it can force decisions people can't bring themselves to make. I think this is one of those times. It teaches us what's important in life. Yes, Daphne's no longer with us, but I'm still alive. My mother is still fine. My father... well, he's alive, isn't he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy interrupted, slightly shocked.

"Well," Astoria replied, shrugging, "we did get a visit two days before the return to Hogwarts. They took him with them, what with him sticking up for his traitor daughter and all. That didn't endear him to them, you know? Not the wisest move. Mother was distressed when they took him, naturally, but I'm not too worried. It'll take a while until it's sorted out, but he's a pureblood, isn't he? They'll treat him well – certainly better than all of those traitors and Mudbloods, not that that's difficult. But nothing will happen to him, they're just making sure he won't do anything stupid. And I have trust everything will turn out fine in the end."

"Aren't you worried about what might happen to him?" Pansy tried.

"Worried? A bit. But Father is not an idiot," Astoria pointed out. "Once he has some time to think about his words and actions, he'll know to leave the past behind. He's merely misled by his love for Daphne, not a traitor himself. Maybe it'll help him sort out his feelings and become a better man? He should stop feeling guilty and begin a new part of his life. He's got Mother. He's got me."

Not quite knowing what to think about it, Pansy forced herself to smile. "Well, what are you reading, then?"

"Ah," Astoria sighed, "this trash. 'The Stranger in the Mirror'. Daphne reads this garbage, did you know?"

"I did," Pansy replied, narrowing her eyes. Something about Astoria having that book bothered her. Maybe it was because it had been a present from Pansy once.

"Oh, so you did know? Well, get this here. 'He ground against her, his strong hands running over the body he'd soon claim. The air was heavy with anticipation, soon joined by the moans of longing as fiery passion came over Lady Fernández. The vows she had once taken lost all meaning to her and...' hah, look, here, she marked that spot, would you believe it? Haha, 'Quivering manhood, pressing against her', as if. Heh, 'Like a conqueror claiming new land...' Ha, good thing Father didn't see those books."

"It might very well be," Pansy compromised, not wanting to defend Daphne's taste in entertainment. Pansy also knew Daphne had had worse stories hidden away.

"Oho," Astoria chuckled, pointing to another spot in the book, "now Rodrigo's brother stormed into the room, demanding answers. Well, should've made a move earlier. Haha, 'Like two snakes, the brothers danced around each other, each ready to strike as their hissed threats broke the tense silence. Sweat glistened on Rodrigo's well-muscled body, filling Lady Fernández with desires she had never known; her eyes were drawn to...' Haha, well, if he's about to fight with his brother, he could've at least dressed. 'Catch, my lover,' heh, I'd bet Daphne had hoped they'd fight like Muggles."

"Your father must have been heart-broken to lose a child," Pansy brought up.

"Yeah, he might've been," Astoria replied, shrugging. "But she's not dead, so no harm done."

Pansy blinked, surprised by the reply. "What do you mean, not dead?"

Astoria looked up. "Well, just that. Daphne's not dead; I know it. She's somewhere out there, I know she is. She'll return one day." Glancing down at the book, she laughed once more. "Haha, 'With a quick slash, Rodrigo brought his wand down. Antonio's eye bulged; unwilling to understand, he fell to his knees in front of his brother...' Haha, his naked, sweaty brother! Wonder what the Lady thinks! Aha! 'They crashed together, his kisses more powerful as before. Invading forces... waves against the shores...' Oh, this is too hilarious! And his dying brother's watching it. Think he enjoys the show?"

"Maybe he does," Pansy said, but she couldn't quite bring herself to joke about it. She lowered her voice, glancing around. "What do you mean, she's out there? Have you heard from her? Have you... have your parents heard from her?"

Astoria chuckled. "No, we haven't heard from her. I just know she's not dead, simple as that."

"How?" Pansy asked, leaning forward.

"Does it matter?" Astoria replied. "It's probably better if you don't know, don't you agree?" With that, she returned to the book in her hands.

Pansy left for her dorm, feeling torn between wanting to believe and fearing the consequences. Pansy wanted to believe her friend was still alive, but if she was, how long would it be until she was found? And if Astoria could find out, couldn't others as well? Couldn't Draco as well? He'd tried hurting Daphne before; if he learned about Daphne's survival, what would he do? She couldn't tell him, Pansy knew as much, but there was the risk he'd learn it some other way. Could she tell Millicent and Tracey?

She found both girls sitting on their beds.

"Well, all right, so let's say the Ballycastle Bats win, then the next real challenge will be the Holyhead Harpies," Tracey argued. "Should be possible, all things considered."

"The Harpies are strong this year, though," Millicent pointed out. "It'll be a tough fight either way, and the Bats can't lose even once if they want to win the Championship."

"Well, I didn't say it would be easy, just that it should be possible," Tracey replied. "But if you want your cousin to lose the season..."

"It's not that," Millicent sighed. "I just don't think... Hey, Pansy. Finished with your meeting?"

Pansy glanced around the room, but couldn't stop herself. "Astoria thinks Daphne's still alive."

Tracey blinked before glancing over to a shrugging Millicent.

"Well, that's what we all hope, isn't it?" Millicent tried at last.

"Yeah," Tracey replied with a pained smile. "It'd be nice, but... Well... with how she looked..."

"Yes," Millicent agreed. "Well, if she is, you know, if she's out there somewhere, then we can only hope she won't do anything foolish. And that she'll stay hidden somehow."

"Astoria seemed to be sure," Pansy told them. Her friends exchanged another glance, but finally nodded.

"I know she's still alive," Millicent spoke up with a sigh. "I feel it in my heart. I trust Daphne. She's still alive. She's out there."

Tracey nodded. "Yeah. I mean, Daphne, she's strong. She'll have survived somehow." There was pain in her voice and her smile, but Pansy couldn't fault Tracey for clinging to hope.

"Astoria also said her father was taken," Pansy relayed.

Millicent blinked in surprise. "I hadn't heard of that before. Why?"

Pansy hesitated, collecting her thoughts about how to explain it. "Well, it seems as if he... Astoria called it sticking up for Daphne, but I don't quite know what she meant. She said something about thinking about his words and actions, and him being misled by his love for his traitorous daughter. Oh, and leaving the past behind and becoming a better man, that's what Astoria's hoping for."

Tracey frowned. "I didn't know you could get arrested for loving your family." She glanced around the room nervously, almost as if she expected someone to burst in and carry her away.

Normally, Pansy would have laughed about the notion, but suddenly remembered what she had told Draco before – what he'd already known, apparently. Was Tracey at risk for worrying about her father? Was Pansy at risk for worrying about Tracey who worried about her father?

"Probably not the case, though," Millicent spoke up with a frown. "Misled by his love for Daphne, thinking about his words and actions, that sounds more like he caused trouble. Like he called Malfoy out for his actions or something."

"What," Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow, "you think Daphne's father turned traitor?"

Millicent pursed her lips. "Love makes a fool out of all of us."

"If he did turn traitor," Tracey added, pale-faced and fidgety, "then he'll be gone for a long time."


A bit of catching up with old friends in this chapter. And a lot of compromises, of course.