"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it."

~ Margaret Thatcher


Chapter 31 ~ So That's Your Sick, Twisted Idea of Tutelage?


ECOTS


The night had been a merciful void of black. The dreams, torments that Voldemort so often threw through his skull, exploiting their shared connection when his defenses were down so as to deprive him of sleep had been, for a change, absent.

Something was on his nose, and it tickled.

Harry instantly drug a hand up to bat at whatever the hell it was, his knuckles knocking into something solid. That something moved.

Cracking his gaze to confront the oversized fly that was surely tormenting him at this hour, he was greeted with the sight of the top of Kaylens' head, her hair a mess. Squinting, letting his gaze come into focus in the warm sunlight filtering in through the windows, it slowly – emphasis on slowly – occurred to him that he'd just hit her in the head.

Kaylens expressed her appreciation by grumbling something indecipherable, turning in her sleep, her face burying against his chest. One of her hands laid sprawled across his torn sweater, her hand curled through one of the ragged tears, her fingertips gently brushing against the bare flesh of his pectorals.

Abruptly Harry's chest began pounding. Hard. It was like being hit with an electric current.

Harry groggily blinked.

Then blinked again.

Kalliandra Kaylens was curled against him, in bed with him, his chest her acting pillow.

Harry was pretty sure that he was about to die. Either that, or his heart was about to beat out of his damn chest. Suddenly very awake, the night flooded back. He had to have been hexed, or she had been hexed. Clearly one of them had been hexed, for this to have happened.

Hell of it was he didn't really care who had hexed them. He just didn't want to move.

Harry's free hand, the one attached to the arm not firmly wrapped around her – when had that hand gotten to her waist? – froze halfway to the side of her face. Absurdly he was acutely, cursedly aware that no one had hexed either of them. Damn if he hadn't wanted this.

Swallowing, watching her, he knew something.

She'd seen everything. She'd seen Voldemort. Seen him have to fight. And yet…here she was. And her decision….it was truly hers. Unlike Hermione's…unlike Ron's…it would affect no one but her. Kaylens had no one left that Voldemort could target.

The dagger of guilt that swept through him for even thinking that, for feeling relieved at that realization, went away the second she attempted to outright burrow her face into his shoulder, her hair everywhere.

Harry almost choked on it. Grand. He'd suddenly forgotten how to breath.

Kaylens murmured tiredly in response to his distress, one of her long legs moving across the top of his Gryffindor red quilt. She was missing a sock. The other one was half-way on. Sunlight poured through the dormitory's curtains, the warm rays scattering across her skin, showing that her toes were painted and chipped. Odd. She hadn't struck him as the kind of non-witch to paint her toes.

Harry shifted, tightening his grip around her, chest pounding. He felt stiff, tired, as if he'd recently been brutalized with a beater's bat. He didn't recall having pissed off Fred and George recently. "Kaylens," he muttered very quietly, the rest of the dorm dead silent, "are you awa-"

"No," came her instant, grumbled response. She instantly attempted to reach for the sideways quilt that was halfway off the bed, trying to pull it over her head. "Too," she quietly groaned, "early."

A tired rumble shook his chest, the back of his head thudding back down against the pillow and eyes dropping shut. "Evidently," he drawled, keeping his voice low, "you're a morning person."

A second passed, as if her reflexes were not quite fully awake, before Kally's fingertips, the ones that had caused him to feel like he was about to die of a heart attack from their slightest touch, suddenly flicked his chest. Actually flicking him.

Then she growled.

Actually growled at him.

She made no move to move though, Harry's free hand finally finding her. Within a moment his fingers were running across the bare skin of her upper arm. Gaze cracking to view her, Kaylens still very determinedly closed, his fingers wrapped around the remnants of her sleeve. It'd been very nearly torn off the day prior, and now hung like a tattered rag from the rest of her shirt.

Her shirt. They were both still in their clothes from yesterday. That struck him.

And then it all flooded back. Hogsmeade Grimmauld. Everything. They'd waited within Number 12 Grimmauld Place after the battle, port keying here, him tripping over his words and her storming off, Ron decking him, the rest of the Order members coming together, before winding up where they were now.

Merlin….

Harry swallowed hard. Better not to think about that for a least five minutes. Instead he squinted down at the top of her head, still half asleep but….awake. "You have," he stated, as if it were very obvious, "debris in your hair." Moving the hand that wasn't wrapped around her, he plucked a piece of what looked like gravel out of it, inspecting it through a tired glare. It was a wonder he hadn't been impaled in the middle of the night with that.

Apparently that was what it took to get her to open her eyes.

He hadn't exactly noticed before, but her lashes were impossibly long. He knew this because he felt them flutter open against his chest, where her face had remained buried, right before she looked up at him.

The sunlight lent an unreal cast to the golden glint of her irises, Kaylens' gaze flickering over his. Something tensed within him. He hadn't the slightest idea of how the hell to react to this. He'd never exactly woken up with a girl in his bed. What if she suddenly remembered they hated each other? What if-

Heart thundering, he watched as a slow, sleepy smile played upon her lips. "You know you squirm in your sleep?"

Harry blinked at her. Then blinked again. Then a half-breathless laugh escaped him, Harry opening his mouth to reply in kind-

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"PROFESSOR PATROL! GET UP, GET OUT, AND EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!"

Kaylens had shot up so fast she lost her other sock, Harry right behind her and not sure if he'd ever moved so fast in his life. Immediately to his right resonated the resounding thud of Ron tumbling out of bed and yelping. Hermione bolted upright, wide eyed and looking stricken, her bushy brown hair about three times its usual size.

Somehow Kaylens was already out of his bed and hopping around on one foot, trying to pull her socks back on.

A second later Ron's head had poked up like a damn meerkat around his bedframe, a sheet tangled over his head. "Bloody hell!" he hissed at him, clawing at the sheet in a vain effort to disentangle himself. "We're dead," he continued, talking mainly to Harry, "absolutely dead!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Good morning everyone." Luna's surprisingly calm, dreamy voice came in greeting. Half out of bed, half not Harry's head bolted towards her and he absolutely gaped.

There sat Luna Lovegood, perched in the windowsill cross legged, smiling and looking completely pristine, yet he swore to something unholy that she had quite literally just been sleeping. "It looks positively lovely today doesn't it? I think it'll be a better day, don't you?"

She said this all conversationally, as if they hadn't just been warned that Professors were on their way up to the boys' dormitory, where multiple girls had spent the night.

Ron outright sputtered at her, jerking around and grabbing the nearest quilt.

The red head promptly tossed it over Hermione's head. "Under the bed! Get-"

Harry couldn't be sure what happened next, since he couldn't quite see around the quilt, but Hermione snapped, "Ronald!" right before a loud smack was heard.

Ron emerged from the fray a second later rubbing his arm. "Hey! I'm trying to keep you out of trouble you know!"

Hermione was already on her feet, fingers rifling frantically through her hair in vain attempt to tame it. "Ron, I'm a person not a cat! You can't just hide me under your bed and think I'll disappear like it's some kind of invisibility cloak!"

Kaylens tumbled into the wall with a loud bang, having lost her balance trying to get her second sock back on.

"Man, you guys are loud," Neville remarked, sitting up in bed and looking far, far calmer than the rest of them. Rubbing his face, he inquired, "What time is it?"

BANG! BANG!

"Half past mid-day," Luna replied dreamily, her eyes closed and face turned to the sun, appearing for all the world as if she was completely enjoying herself.

Now it was Harry's turn to sputter. "It's twelve thirty?" He'd thought it was a lot earlier.

"Well," Neville replied far too reasonably, "we were up until past four-"

"SHUT UP NEVILLE!"

All four voices shouted simultaneously, Neville sniggering.

"You know they're going to think Luna was in your bed?" Ron brutally informed amidst his own panic.

Neville paled considerably.

"You know, I don't think I'm Neville's type," Luna said, tilting her head curiously. "Am I?"

"Luna!" Kaylens had hissed, "Now's not the time."

She then grabbed Hermione and had hauled her halfway towards the sixth year boys' dorm showers, clearly planning to hide there, when the pounding stopped.

"Okay seriously though guys, can someone undo Hermione's charm?"

Kally and Hermione stopped so abruptly that they thudded into one another, skidding across the stone floor. Ron had froze, Harry's jaw freezing half-open.

"Dean?!"

Blurting it, he stared at the dorm room door as laughter erupted from the other side.

Then he deeply considered whether or not his blasting charms had gotten good enough to blast a door right off its hinges.

Ron already had drawn a wand and taken a menacing step towards the door.

"Um…guys," Neville cautioned, attempting to be the voice of reason, only for Kally to cut him off.

"Thomas," she hissed dangerously, "I…am going…to kill you."

Even Harry thought she sounded serious. "Er…Kaylens…"

Fortunately Hermione regained her senses first. "My privacy charm must have worn off," she said, sounding baffled as she flicked her wand at the door, removing her locking charm. "He shouldn't be able to hear us."

Harry winced, thinking of all they'd been discussing. "Maybe they wear off after a bit? " He swore it had still been in effect when they'd all passed out, or at least it had been when he had.

Hermione looked as if she were seriously trying to figure it out, already stalking over to where his books were and rifling through them. A second later she emerged with his charms textbook, muttering to herself about time limits on privacy charms as she dropped unceremoniously back onto Ron's bed to leaf through it.

"Unbelievable," Ron remarked, shaking his head at her. "You know, you'd think I'd be surprised by now."

The door swung open, Dean there, wand out, a sickening amount of muffins floating in the air, along with-

"Oh good, cider," Luna tranquilly voiced, "I always love cider in November." She practically floated towards Dean, her striped socked feet barely seeming to touch the ground.

Kaylens was still making angered, growling sounds, while Ron swore and collapsed right onto the floor, sitting and breathing like he'd tried something those 'Muggle nutters' did, like running. Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. Actually laughed.

Then something occurred to him. "Ginny?" he probed.

Dean's momentary distribution of food did not even pause. "Curled up with a book, a hexing target, wand, and what suspiciously looked like a sweater with her name on it." He shrugged, "A little better, but she's working through some stuff. Unlike you lot, who apparently pulled an all-nighter."

Which was when a prominent, resigned sigh filled the room.

Every teenager went utterly still.

"Kalliandra," came the distinct sound of Remus Lupin, "are those your clothes from yesterday?"

Her compact, the one with the two-way mirror hidden within it, had crashed to the floor and fallen open in the scuffle, reavealing the disapproving face of Mooney. "Will all of you do me the favor, of meeting me in the hospital wing." The face then swiveled in his direction, shooting Harry a very calculating look. "After you've changed and showered of course. No need to smell up the place."

Harry gulped.

Neville simply walked right by him, slapping him on the back as if all his mornings started this way. "What's up Dean, muffin me!"

A muffin hurtled right at Longbottom, who caught it in his mouth like a dog.


ECOTS


About an hour later found them in front of the hospital wing, the entire corridor devoid of any sign of life other than the six of them. The moment they'd stepped into it a heavy feeling had instantly pressed down on her, it only increasing as they stopped outside the hospital wing's locked, sealed door.

Kally leaned against the cool, stone wall, an unlit candelabra next to her head. The feeling was…unsettling.

"It's the charms."

Potter dropped his back against the wall, right next to her. Malachite gaze studying her, his expression was unreadable. Still, she forced a wane smile at the explanation.

Potter returned the half smile.

Then he gestured vaguely at the castle. "When there's too much magic in the air, too many concealment charms, privacy charms, it feels like this," he expounded quietly, his tone growing sardonic. "You get used to it."

Kally's hair, still wet from the shower, dripped in her face. "That sounds awful." She gave a slight shudder.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Harry chortled.

She just made a disgruntled sound as her response, turning her attentions to the rest of those present. Small, quiet conversations were happening, but for the life of her she could not figure out how the others looked so put together and well…dry.

Dragging her fingers through her soaked hair, sighing, Hermione must have heard her, casting over a sympathetic look. A second later she'd tossed a hair dying spell at her head that caused her to flinch.

She'd been in a battle, yet common corridor magic still could startle her. She did manage to shoot Hermione a grateful look though.

All of them, excluding Dean who had gone to check on Ginny again, remained leaning against the corridor walls while they waited for Remus.

And Potter's presence besides her…it was palpable.

"He's probably," he told, his green gaze eyeing the hospital wing door tensely, "going to murder me, you know."

Her lips parted to argue, then thought better of it. Potter was right. He was a dead wizard walking. Voldemort had nothing on an angry Lupin.

While Harry had seemed to accept his fate, Weasley was still squirming and Hermione looked a little green. Luna musically foretold, "Don't worry, Ronald. You're still too shy. You have little to worry on."

The red head turned his head and shot Luna an askance look. "Shy?"

Luna's fingers deftly twisted her long, blonde hair up, pinning it into a place with a quill. "Of course Ronald. If you weren't you'd have snogged someone by now."

Weasley sputtered, but the hospital wing door opened, sparing him. Remus stood there, looking around at all of them with a critical air. "Get," Mooney stated dangerously, "in."


ECOTS


Harry gulped at the look he personally got.

Thinking he could sneak past Remus into the wing with the others had also been too lofty a goal. "Kaylens," he hissed, hoping for some solidarity.

She merely proffered an apologetic look, mouthing good luck.

Mooney had put out an arm, blocking his forward progress into the wing, gesturing for the rest to go to an unoccupied bed area. His former professor actually waited until they all had done so, out of ear shot, before he turned his attention back on him.

Right. Harry had been right. He was going to get murdered, right here in the hall.

"You know Harry, I had this conversation with your father," Lupin said, "but never thought I'd have to with you." Mooney drummed his fingers on the doorframe, clearly contemplating the best punishment. "You better," he finally stated, "respect her. Any woman-"

And then Harry realized exactly what Remus was trying to talk to him about.

He made a strangled sound. "No. No, no, no. No." Just for good measure, he articulated one more time, for clarity's sake, "No."

Mooney eyed him skeptically. "Then what exactly was I seeing this morning, Harry?"

He practically choked. "We all fell asleep!" Kind of. He left out the bed post snogging in favor of living.

"Hmm, very well, Harry." Looking distinctly uncomfortable, his father's best friend hastened to add, "But if you ever need to…discuss what-"

"No!"

A moment later found him joining the rest inside the sealed hospital wing. Harry's head actually hurt. Mooney had tried to give him the sex talk. Making an odd strangled sound once more, he started thudding the back of his head against the nearest wall.

Hermione tutted and instantly levitated a pillow behind his head, ceasing his attempts to drive that concept out of his skull.


ECOTS


Kally actually frowned at what Potter was doing. What'd he say? she mouthed in his direction, only for him to hit his head again.

Great, Remus had broke Potter.

Kind of like the rest of the patients here. The hospital wing was filled with Order members, all ones who had been injured in the battle of Grimmauld.

Diggles was in a nearby bed, looking fit as a fiddle, but still happily twirling his bowler hat above his head as if it was his only care in the world. "I'm afraid," Remus remarked, catching where her gaze had flickered, "the effects of that spell he took may be permanent. Thus far Madame Pomfrey and our other healers-"

"I am," came the familiar, overly refined drawl of Regulus, "a doctor, Lupin. I never could stomach that overly pompous Healing school your kind refer to as the institution." The man strode through the hospital wing as if he owned it, his masking spell back upon his face and contorting his features into an unrecognizable blur.

Remus just rubbed his head as if attempting to stave off a headache. "As I was saying, they've yet to find a way to reverse it."

"Yoo hoo!" Diggles was waving at them, looking utterly delighted at having visitors and attempted to jump out of bed, only being restrained from doing so by Madame Pomfrey. "Kally! Harry ole' boy! Was that a fun day or what!? I did a pirouette mid-hex! A pirouette!"

Neville was staring at the man, looking like he felt ill. Kally couldn't blame him. She could think of a lot of ways to describe the fight that had occurred, but fun wasn't one of them. People had died. Actually shivering, catching Potter's eyes assessing her, she shoved the memory away.

The school Healer finally managed to shove Diggles back into bed, the bowler-hat wearing wizard shooting them all a grin full of the jolly good cheer typically harbored by only the recently lobotomized.

Remus made a pained sound, decisively deciding to move on. "I believe, you are all wondering what will become of Hogwarts. McGonagall has spoken to the Board of Governors and the decision has been made, for the time being, for Hogwarts to remain open."

Tension she hadn't even realized she'd held drained out of her at those words, her eyes closing as a relieved breath escaped her lips. Had Hogwarts not remained open…there would have been no place for her to go.

When her eyes opened again, she found Remus offering her a reassuring smile. Well…maybe she'd have had one place. Her lips twitched, but only a little.

Remus', however, did not.

"There are," he pressed onwards, "caveats." She felt Potter bristling besides her.

"That there are, Remus."

Everyone turned, Professor McGonagall having entered the room.

The acting Headmistress merely offered them all a grim smile. "I'll have you know," came her matter-of-fact, clipped words, "that I was firmly against admitting the six of you. I feel that it was," bristling slightly, "rushed."

Her wise face observed them all over her glasses, tone growing softer. "War is no place for ones so young." Sentiment over, she continued brusquely, "However, I was outvoted." Her eyes shot towards Ron. "You have your brothers to thank for that Mr. Weasley."

Weasley actually grinned from ear-to-ear, right before Hermione gave him a discreet kick, hissing, "Don't gloat."

A vial of colorful potions levitated at speed past them, sending Hermione's hair blowing in the breeze, the supplies stopping right by Regulus' head as he joined Madame Pomfrey in trying to calm Diggles. His approach was vastly different though.

He flat out immobilized him, then forcibly shoved the vial down the man's throat. "Swallow," he practically threatened.

McGonagall heaved a heavy sigh, while Remus shot him a flat out bemused look.

The Headmistress pressed on. "Remus is correct. Hogwarts will remain open, however the Ministry has finally recognized that there is something amiss, and word of a plague within Dublin, one that appears to be…magical in origin, has reached them." Pausing, the witch practically aging before them, she told, "Many have died. The city has been shut down."

"Have the Muggles realized it's magical in origin?"

They all looked at Neville, and he shrugged. "Some of our illnesses are obviously magical, some aren't. They could be mistaken for the flu, or something."

They all still stared, until he shifted uncomfortably. "What? Some of us actually pay attention in Muggle Studies."

"They have not," Professor McGonagall confirmed approvingly, "but the Ministry has. So until further notice, since plagues can spread so rapidly in crowded environments and since Hogwarts is the closest center of magical learning to there, they have…strongly urged students to remain home, with their families, until the origin can be sorted. Now students may only remain here with their parents' permission and a signed release form."

Neville now looked stricken. "That…may be a problem."

Remus sent him an understanding look. "I can speak to your grandmother for you."

Harry, however, had adopted a stony expression. "The Dursleys will never sign that."

Kally glanced at him, mouthing quietly, "Who are the Dursleys?"

The slightly surprised look Potter gave her reminded her of how little she actually knew about him. Before he'd even finished opening his mouth to answer, Remus had interrupted. "Actually Harry," he said, looking a little hesitant, "we have found a loophole for your…situation."

"Oh yeah?" Potter looked seriously skeptical.

"Perhaps," McGonagall said, as if thinking better of it, "it is time for Mr. Black to reintroduce himself."

"As if I don't have more pressing matters to attend to than introducing myself to a bunch of students," came the drawled retort from Regulus, the wizard abandoning Diggles to walk over to them. Making a haughty gesture at them, he removed the distortion spell from his face.

She and Harry already knew who he was.

But the others obviously did not.

Hermione of all people sputtered, voice increasing an octave, "But-but you're a Death Eater!" A half pause and then her tone grew bewildered. "And dead!"

"Bloody hell, your Sirius spitting image!" Weasley blurted. Besides her, Kally couldn't help but notice Potter grimace at the name.

Ron's head was swiveling between Hermione and Regulus now. "Wait, but he's not-he couldn't be-"

"Regulus Black. Now close your mouth little Weasley, you're bound to be attracting flies."

Ron's mouth snapped closed with a solid clack.

"As fun as all this is," Regulus drawled, "I do have actual work to be getting on with so…" he had turned to Harry. "I've been informed that my brother was your Godfather. Lucky me."

"What he means," Remus interrupted disapprovingly, "is that per wizarding law, in the event that a child loses both their parents and godparents, then custody may transfer to either their next closest blood relative or to the next closest blood relative of their godparents."

Potter appeared to be choking on something. "No." He sounded like he was being strangled.

Regulus merely shot him a look. "Such gratitude astounds. Yes, apparently my brothers past alliances have resulted in landing me with you. That said I will sign that ghastly permission slip for you to remain here, and we will have guardianship transferred from those filthy Muggles immediately."

Harry still appeared to be choking on something.

McGonagall sighed, turning her attention to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I will sign yours on your parents behalf until we…are able to reunite you. As for you Ms. Kaylens," her attention swiveled, "Remus has signed yours. And Ms. Lovegood-"

"Daddy of course signed it. You can't report anything interesting on flobberworms if you're not at the real center of the action."

McGonagall looked as if every single word in that sentence had pained her. "Yes," she ventured, "so in the interim, it appears we will have only twenty nine students remaining. This quiet will provide us the opportunity to train you correctly, since you will apparently be needing it."

She did not have to specify that it would be for battles.

"Kalliandra." She practically jumped at the sound of her own name. "You are to report to the dungeons immediately. Given your…situation, the Order feels you'd best serve by undertaking an apprenticeship with Professor Snape regarding Potions."

She acutely knew that she was unable to cast anything remotely like a spell, beyond a stunner from a pre-magicked wand, but she found her lips parting in silent protest.

"He requested you," McGonagall cut her off, "specifically."

A firm grip squeezed her arm, Potter's gaze firmly on McGonagall but his hand reassuringly on her.

Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. "Of course, Headmistress."

McGonagall gave her a nod. "Good, he along with Regulus shall be working on an antidote for the plague. You will assist. With luck one can be developed before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's plague travels any farther."

Kally felt suddenly very small, given what a tall order that was. How could she possibly assist with that?

"The rest of you," McGonagall said, "shall report to the Room of Requirement. We have training simulations we intend to take you through to work on your defensive skills, like shield charms. You will be needing them." Pausing, she continued, "Ms. Kaylens and Ms. Weasley will be joining you at a later date to work on attack coordination. We will need to ensure that all parties are placed in a position that will be play to their strengths, and we cannot do that without prior preparation."

And just like that, the impromptu Order meeting was dismissed.

Potters' hand remained firmly around her upper arm, Kaylens covering his hand with hers and squeezing slightly. No one said it, but it was apparent. While Number 12 Grimmauld was repaired, the empty castle would become the Order of the Phoenix's temporary headquarters.

It was their place to train.

"Wait," Weasley suddenly interjected as everyone was leaving, "what about Ginny and me? Our permission forms?"

Professor McGonagall merely waved her hand. "Mr. Weasley, your mother was the first to sign off on this plan. Something about better you here than at home breaking things accidentally?'

Once more Ronald Weasley sputtered, mumbling, "Oh sure, just sign her kids up for a war why don't she?" under his breath.

"I thought you wanted in this?" Neville said, bewildered.

"I do!" Weasley bristled, as if about to have a new broomstick taken away from him. "But it'd just be nice if she, ya know, protested a little."

"All your mum's done is protest exactly that," Hermione countered.

When Ron opened his mouth to grumble something acrid, the bushy haired witch 'accidentally' stepped on his foot.

Merlin.

They all left, going to their assigned trainings.

And that was exactly how it went, for the next few weeks.


ECOTS


The potion had all but exploded in her face.

Coughing on acrid smoke and wiping soot out of her eyes, Kally found the intensely annoyed gaze of Professor Snape on her. "Your incompetence is astounding even to me." With that he'd snatched the small cauldron she'd been working on out of away, tilting its still smoking contents around for a better look.

He slammed it down, spilling potion over the sides.

"I said simmer. When I say simmer I mean simmer. What I do not mean is to have the flame so low that it barely has a chance to cook." Gesturing at the pot for emphasis, he rebuked, "If it is not on high enough then the chemical integrity of the ingredients will not be degraded enough for them to mix, and it will explode. Be grateful you incompetent child that you were not working with larger portions."

Oh yes, this was going swimmingly.

Brushing her singed hair out of her eyes, Kally heaved a breath of annoyance. Then she grabbed the potions textbook, one for seventh years, and started leafing through it again. She barely understood this let alone could follow it.

Snape's first task for her was to have her sit and read through the Potions textbooks for all seven years of Hogwarts students. Literally. He'd made it very clear that since it was her only subject there'd be no excuse for incompetence and no whining about a lack of time to be had.

They'd already made it through the first potions textbook in her remedial potions lessons, but that had still left her with six tomes to decipher.

He'd had her reading a text every week, giving her only two weeks a piece for the sixth and seventh year tomes. He'd also had her making multiple potions from each text as she went. For the ones that took any length of time to actually brew correctly, he'd had her brewing multiple potions all at once.

She'd blown up quite a few, lost a pinky that had to be reattached, and had singed off more of her hair than she could keep track of.

Now, late December fully upon her, various cauldrons simmered around the Potions classroom, half the room divided into her work area, and the other half utterly empty.

Snape and Regulus had taken on working on their private project in his back office, a magically expanded section of the lab where apparently any of her 'mistakes' would not risk contaminating their attempts to find the plague's cure.

Over 300,000 were already dead from it in Dublin alone. More were infected, languishing in hospitals. The plague had, despite all their best efforts, spread. Some idiot had decided that the travel ban on the city didn't apply to him and had snuck out.

He didn't live very long. Nor did the guy's girlfriend or most of the students at the college she'd gone to.

The plague moved from there, now having popped up in Galway, Cork, Limerick, Waterford, and some small Pennsylvanian town called Scranton. With the exception of Scranton, it had been otherwise contained, due to the Irish President Kenneth Bothan's herculean efforts, to Irish soil. The fact that it had jumped the Atlantic though meant that either someone had escaped carrying it, or that Voldemort had planted it there. Unlike the college student who had carried it outside of Dublin, they had no idea who or what had carried it off Irish soil.

The Order had been working around the clock, as had the various magical ministries, to keep those areas more or less contained, for now.

Spitting more soot, she was exhausted. Since this apprenticeship had begun she'd barely had time to sleep, let alone do anything, like see the sun. She basically spent all her time in the dungeons. She'd actually ran into Dean earlier in the week, his parents having been fine with him remaining at Hogwarts because 1) they were Muggles and didn't know what was going on and 2) he lied through his teeth to them about how Hogwarts was totally safe, and he'd remarked how she was starting to resemble a transparent vampire.

She suddenly had been very envious of her peers who could actually hex someone when they got irritated.

What made things more difficult was that her peers could just use their wands to make small, subtle changes to their cauldrons. She, on the other hand, had to do everything by hand.

Snape had been freakishly adamant that it was better that way, as such slogged diligence forced one to learn their craft properly.

"You know Severus," came Regulus' cultured tones from the office threshold, Kally glancing up to see him observing them, "for an allegedly inept student of such staggering magnitude, you do seem to be wasting a fair bit of time on their tutelage." He twirled his wand as if humored.

Slamming a cupboard shut, the glass actually shattering on its clear door, Snape swore. Whether it was at the door or Regulus was up for debate. "Quite against my will, I assure you."

"Of course," Regulus placated casually, seizing upon the opportunity to torture Snape over anything. "It's not like the girl's actually read anything, put in any time or learned to do NEWT level potions in just a few weeks or anything, with a caped overlord critiquing her every move. No, no. It couldn't be that. Your precious head space's limited capacity might simply implode." The last word practically dripped off his lips, the sugary sarcasm causing a vein in Snape's forehead to begin twitching.

Regulus winked at her.

Kally almost dropped the spoon she'd been stirring the new ingredients with into the cauldron. The slight mishap resulted in Regulus' dark eyes narrowing now. "That being said, her concentration is a bit…lacking."

Snape simply slammed down an assorted array of rodent tails in front of her, frighteningly silent for a moment. "Do you think," he finally drawled, "that with your gross incompetence that you are capable of slicing these exactly 2/3rds of a centimeter's length, or is that above your level?"

Kalliandra nodded.

The Potions Professor looked like he was seriously reconsidering something, then nodded stiffly. "Good. Bring them to us in my office laboratory when complete. If incorrect there will be consequences."

Threat over her ability to perform a menial task aside, her brow furrowed. Had he just trusted her to prepare an ingredient for their work?

Snape shoved past Regulus, the caustic wizard rolling his eyes and conjuring a wine glass out of thin air before swirling, his black cloak flying out, and following the potions master inside. "You know Severus, that's progress!" he called, hell-bent on bringing about either his own early death or Snape's. "Just think, soon you'll be complimenting the student popu-"

His words were drowned out by an irate growl.

"You inebriated excuse of a healer, get out of my-"

"I'm a connoisseur, Severus."

Kally groaned, shoving the nearest looking hedgehog tail against the measuring tool and cutting it with what suspiciously resembled a meat slicer. She was going to make sure this was right.

She just hoped the others were having better luck in their training than she was.


ECOTS


The orange sandstone of the slot canyon towered over them, the wavy rock faces looking as if they were almost alive. The hot, relentless desert sun beat brutally down, the only respite from the oven-like heat the thick shadows cast from the towering cliffs.

Tensely they waited. They all waited.

And then the room flooded, the thunderous sound like that of an oncoming freight train. It echoed through the crevice they stood within, the sound promising a watery grave with no escape.

"HOLD!"

Ron shouted above the rest, his booming, boisterous voice finally being put to good use. To make sure everyone heard them.

The ground beneath his boots began to shake. Finding the terra firma no longer stable holding position became more challenging.

The clattering sounds of rocks started, small stones being shaken off from where they'd rested peacefully on ledges above them. They begin falling down, some dangerously close.

One took sadistic pleasure in tearing through his skin as the small thing, no larger than a galleon, slammed into his forearm. Harry winced, but he did not move.

The powerful pressure wave of air, the one preceding the leading wave of the flood slammed into them first. Hermione's hair whorled around her head, obscuring her vision, while the sheer amount of red-orange dust in the air obscured his.

A second later the brown sludge of the flash flood fired around the canyon's corner, hurtling rocks, debris, chunks of what had been desert scrub and Merlin knew what else.

It hit them like a battering ram.

Hermione's back thudded against his, Ron standing with him as part of the front shield, Luna, Neville and Ginny directly to the sides, "Protego!" bellowed by all parties.

The shield charms flashed around them, forming a tight circle around the occupants. Harry's entire field of vision filled with nothing but brown death a second later. The flood had smashed into them, the unrelenting force shoving them all back, their boots sliding against the dirt beneath them as they all struggled to hold the barrier in place.

Screaming now, trying to hold his position, Harry was dimly aware that pretty much every other person was screaming with him. The pressure in his ears as the water surrounded them, the spells draining them…

Hermione had moved, slightly. He dimly wondered why but couldn't spare the time to ask. The sound was deafening, a boulder slamming into the barrier. The ground of the canyon was rocky, and as the flood sent them all skidding back another inch across it the back of Ron's foot hit a protruding piece of sandstone.

It was what Hermione had the foresight to avoid.

Ron's shoulder bashed into Harry's as he lost balance, knocking them both to the side, the front of the coordinated shielding charm cracking-

It was like being beaten by a hundred bludgers over every inch of him. Instantly his legs were torn out from beneath him and his world was upended. Harry lost feeling in one leg, his head bashed into by something else, the forceful water driving right into his mouth, up his nose, the pressure enough to make his head explo-

Abruptly the roar vanished, Harry slamming into the ground, and slamming hard. He didn't stop right away, skidding across the now familiar, slickly wet floor of the Room of Requirement. Landing half on someone he blearily lifted his head to look, finding Luna looking like a drowned fish and spitting out chunks of mud as she hacked.

The water that had met his own lungs had him suddenly doing the same thing.

Once the noises of hacking had about died down, all except for Ron, who had apparently inhaled more than the rest of them, McGonagall's clipped tones rang out, "Now tell me, which of you still have your wand?"

Soaked to the bone, suddenly shivering from the icy flood, despite the heavy heat of the simulation, Harry managed to shove himself up onto all fours. Blinking, mud still blurring his vision, his left eye actually hurting he saw he sure as hell didn't have his.

A slight cough to his right revealed Ginny, red hair entirely matted with mud, the witch feebly holding up her wand. "He-here," she choked, entering another coughing fit.

McGonagall let out a loud sigh. "Hydro vaniso!" Ginny's coughing instantly ceased, her chocolate brown eyes blinking a little bit more clearly. She'd joined them about a month back, finally deemed 'okay' enough after the Hogsmeade incident to properly join the Order in its trainings.

"Now," McGonagall continued, unconcerned that each and every single one of them were bleeding, "which one of you can tell me what the point of that simulation was?"

Ron flopped onto his back and let out a groan, coughing, "Punishment for goofing off in the back of transfiguration all these years?"

Despite himself, Harry actually snorted. His arm dripped blood freely onto the ground next to him, something he was beginning to get used to from these.

They never won.

"Unlikely, Mr. Weasley. I'd be more inclined to have you submit a three-scroll-length essay on that subject though." The look McGonagall gave him made it clear she now expected that.

Ron just groaned dejectedly, waving a hand above his head in understanding.

Hermione hacked, then ventured, "Cooperation?"

McGonagall made a hmph-ing sound as if it were not close enough. "In battle," the acting Headmistress stated unforgivingly, "if you are surrounded and there is even the tiniest of flaws within your shield charms, from even one's defense, then all within the circle will be compromised. You need to practice!"

Remorseless, she continued, "If there is even one miniscule gap in these shields you are practicing, trust me that the water shall find it." Nodding to the wet mess of students, she sternly clipped, "Now, set up. We are going to do it again, until the six of you are capable of not allowing so much as a drop of water to get through your shields and are capable of holding on to your wands."

Harry actually groaned, earning McGonagall's eagle eye stare. She glanced at his arm, pursing her lips. "And see to each other's wounds. In battle you will not have a Madame Pomfrey to help you, so you better be capable of fixing these minor issues."

"Minor?" Neville croaked in pain, looking like he was shouldering a dislocated shoulder.

McGonagall tutted, "Yes, Mr. Longbottom. Minor. You are alive, breathing, and talking, are you not? You are also ambulatory, so I suggest that all of you search your memories until you recall how to reduce a simple dislocation. You have five minutes, or the simulation begins whether you are ready to or not."

"But-" Neville protested, but McGongall was already walking away.

"The Death Eaters will not wait until you are ready and uninjured in the thick of it, Mr. Longbottom!"

"Any chance Professor Tres could help out? Maybe just for a day?" Ron bit caustically.

"You already tried that last week, Ron," Ginny groaned, standing up and brushing her hands off on her wet jeans.

Luna's hair actually whacked Harry in the face, the Ravenclaw having flipped it out of her eyes. "Sorry Harry," she said contritely, titling her head thoughtfully, clearly oblivious to the stick that was protruding out of her upper arm. "I don't think Profressor McGonagall is very happy with us."

Ron let out a bark of a laugh. "Oh, you think?" Clambering up and slipping right back down onto his ass, he added, "It's not like she's been running us ragged ever since we got into the Order against her wishes, now is it?"

Harry managed to stop gaping at Luna's arm long enough to mutter, "She's just trying to prepare us, Ron. She thinks were going to get ourselves killed otherwise and doesn't want that on her watch."

With that Harry grasped the wooden shard sticking out of Luna and looked at her. "Ready?"

She looked utterly nonplussed.

He yanked it out, slamming a hand over her arm to stem the bleeding and waited for it to stop. He was fairly certain that Professor Tres needed to give them another lesson on first aid. They were terrible at it.

They did not have themselves ready and set up when the simulation changed and the next flash flood hit. As the next round of water hammered into him, he hoped Kaylens' potions work was going better than their defense work.

Then he blacked out from being half-drowned.

But hey, it was only the second time that week. He figured it was improvement.


ECOTS


Sense of time in the dungeons wasn't what it ought to be. If there was anything resembling a clock down here she had yet to discover it. If she had to hazard a guess though, she'd think it was somewhere close to midnight.

Attempting to bottle some camphorated spirit, concentrating carefully, Kally's head positively throbbed. She'd been down there since five a.m. She hadn't seen Potter or any other person, other than her dormmate Hermione, and even then she'd been asleep, in over a week.

It was waxy. It was flammable. It had a shockingly strong stench, and was a naturally occurring organic chemical.

It was not something you wanted to jostle.

Which totally explained why mother-nature had made it slippery, flammable, and potentially explosive if dropped.

The curtain separating the classroom from Snape's private office and laboratory rippled, the Professor striding out into the classroom as if it wasn't an ungodly hour of the night and the biological laws of sleep did not apply to him. The wizard walked right up to her and thrust a vial at her face. "Drink this," he ordered. "I cannot have you non-alert and risk yet another error that could blow up my quarters."

She took it, sighing. She was too tired to care how she came across to the only wizard that, in her mind, closely resembled a vampire. Awake at all hours, never slept, pale skin, black cape, black hair and in possession of a shelf full of jars containing blood from a variety of species….then again, it might have been her own sleep deprivation talking. "If I'm that incompetent," she half sighed, honestly curious, "why did you ask for me specifically then?"

She remembered that McGonagall had said that. She'd just kept it to herself until now.

A vein in the Professor's forehead started to twitch. "It was either you, or the other incompetent brats that remained," he responded cruelly. "I had hopes that you were at least still malleable." The man's expression was grim. "Thus far….disappointing."

Kally winced. Regulus was off harvesting some type of moon mushroom, leaving her alone with Snape. This may be his attempt to finally off her with no witnesses.

Snape really didn't like students.

Remembering the vile she uncorked it and threw it back, drinking it because what else could she to do? Instantly she felt a slight warming, starting to feel more awake…

"Caffeine," she observed, blinking, "has nothing on that."

Snape made an annoyed sound. "Mastering potions requires discipline, not commentary," he disgustedly drawled.

Kally wisely said nothing else and turned her attention back to the vile of white, waxy liquid that she'd just filled. She mentally twitched, given she had 8 more to go.

Snape was like a shark sensing blood in the water. "Quick! What are the properties of camphorated spirit, its treatment modalities and chemical structure?"

She hesitated, wracking her mind, eliciting an angered growl. "Now girl!"

"The spirit is an extraction of camphor. Camphor is a white or nearly transparent solid called a terpenoid. It's flammable, and in the spirit form it's combustible with a lot of magical ingredients, particularly any tree products," she rushed, trying to remember what the hell she'd read on it. "Which is bizarre, because it's found in the wood of an evergreen tree in Asia, which is proof that mother nature is a bitch with a twisted sense of humor."

Snape stared her down, lifting an eybrow. "And?"

"C10H160, and it's used as a disinfectant and to clean severely infected wounds that are hard to cure, like mad dog bites." Pausing, she frowned. "You're going to try to use it for what you're working on aren't you?"

The plague would certainly qualify as something that was hard to cure.

The potions professor looked irritated, and she waited for it. He took great enjoyment on telling her exactly what she had incompetently missed during these frequent pop quizzes of his.

Then again, they weren't really quizzes now were they? There were no grades and the school wasn't exactly operating. And it wouldn't be, until the plague was contained. The Ministry had seen to that.

After a long silence he expelled an irritated breath. "There is a box of Adder's Fork and Acromantula venom in the cupboard housing my private ingredients. I trust," he stated, "that you are not incompetent enough to prick and kill yourself on either ingredient?"

Surely she'd fallen asleep and had been murdered. Had he just trusted her not just with his private stash but with highly dangerous supplies?

"Or," he drawled at her non-responsiveness, "is that too complex a question for you to comprehend?"

This time Kalliandra managed to do that thing called forming words. "Yeah, I just was thinking of which one you would want me to see to first. Obtaining those or finishing the bottling of the camphorated spirit?"

His lips practically curled in annoyance. "First the spirit, then that. Then meet me in my office. Regulus ought to be back by the time you are done with…" he glared down at her progress, "that."

Then he stormed back towards his office, Kalliandra trying to mask her complete and utter shock. Snape stopped only long enough to turn back to her. "And Ms. Kaylens, it will be an all-nighter so I will not have any yawning in my laboratory."

With that he flicked the curtain shut.


ECOTS


The next day Harry collapsed on the common room couch, groaning heavily. Outside a blizzard was brewing, the bone deep cold of winter having fully settled in through the castle walls. The utter lack of other students was downright eerie, and he harbored a suspicion that fewer fires were being lit as a result.

In short, the castle was freezing.

Black hair askew, he thought about stoking the fire burning in the common room hearth, but movement seemed like a bad idea. Instead he settled on groaning.

"Second that, and raise you an urgh."

Ron crashed onto the couch next to him, one leg over the side and the other hanging completely off it, as if he were too tired to remember how to sit.

The fireplace gave an almighty crackle, Ron making an appreciative sound that had Harry shudder. "Mate that's…that's just wrong," he grumbled, shuddering slightly.

Wrong move. The shudder had sent pain daggering through the right side of his entire body. It was only noon, but he and Ron had an impromptu lesson with Remus Lupin in the Room of Requirement.

Remus had been training Ron on all things werewolf, and lucky him, they'd needed a punching bag for Ron in full out wolf mode.

Fighting back against a werewolf was not his idea of fun, especially when he had to find other curses to use besides deadly ones. The others just didn't seem to work.

At least Ron seemed to have enjoyed it.

"My bones hurt."

Harry retracted his previous thought, leaning his head back on the couch and just groaning again.

Out of the twenty nine students who had remained Order of the Phoenix members made up seven of them. The other ones were Dean, two Gryffindor third years, four Hufflepuffs, Luna, and an assortment of Ravenclaw seventh years hellbent on conquering their NEWTs the first time around, even if it were against their parents' wishes.

That was making it ridiculously easy for the Professors that remained to hold private tutoring sessions with small groups.

It made it even easier for the Order members to be thrown into their training. They had a long, long way to go, McGonagall proving to be a bit of a sadistic enforcer when it came to their tutelage, but they were getting comfortable with fighting with one another. They were learning the others strengths…and weaknesses. Every day had been spent together.

Out of all the Order members though there was one none of them had seen in awhile. The last time he'd actually seen Kaylens for longer than five minutes had been a fortnight ago, and even then it hadn't been long.

Ignoring the odd twist in his gut at that, he closed his eyes. It was almost noon and he'd already felt like he'd had the living hell beat out of him.

Ron's mumbled 'sleep talking' only confirmed that he wasn't alone in that regard, and Harry didn't move until he heard footsteps. Cracking his gaze, he saw Hermione. She looked far better put together than they did, and had the forethought to have donned a light coat for inside the frigid castle. Morning 'Mione, you seen Kaylens?"

His friend shook her head. "No, sorry Harry." Frowning, she added, "I actually don't think she even came back to the dorm last night."

Now that got his attention. Somehow the idea of her spending extra time with his least favorite professor, training or not, made him feel somewhat sick.

Not to mention he wasn't a hundred percent on what the hell was going on with them, and he really wanted to get that clarified after not getting to spend any actual time with her. Hell, who would have thought he'd have seen her more in a battle than at school?

Grimacing, he just thanked her.

Unfortunately she was far smarter than that, and plopped herself down on the couch right across from them, her shrewd brown gaze eyeing him suspiciously. She then shivered, casting a quick spell at the fireplace to make it grow.

"Oh thank Merlin!"

Ron hadn't even moved.

Hermione snorted. "You're welcome, Ron."

His other best friend just made some incomprehensible sounds, but amongst those he caught the phrases 'thought I,' 'freeze to death,' and 'bloody house elves.'

Now it was his turn to snort.

"So, Harry…" she shrewdly questioned, expression curious, "what is going on with you and Kally?"

Stiffling a groan he leaned his head back on the couch again, closed his eyes, and willed Voldermot to show up and hex him. Anything to avoid answering that question.

"Yeah," Ron had apparently rejoined the living, "what is up with that. First we find you two snogging on-" the red head made a strangled sound, "on my bed, then we've barely seen her. What's up with that?"

Harry groaned louder.

"You should talk to her," Hermione encouraged, causing him to just crack an eye at her.

"Look I want to, but how exactly? Snape has got her working all hours with him apparently."

Hermione just rolled her eyes at him. "Please Harry, you're not going to let a simple grudge with Professor Snape prevent you from talking to her are you?"

Seeing his stricken expression, she instantly smiled. "Well good, now that's settled." She stood in one fluid motion that Harry was quite sure his legs would be incapable of doing at that second, waved, and headed out the portrait.

A second later he heard conversation drifting in from beyond the Fat Lady's portrait, but couldn't quite make it out. Assuming Hermione had ran into someone, he glanced at Ron.

Ron was already back at trying to play dead.

Snorting, he closed his eyes again, trying to play dead himself. He was pretty sure this was the fifth shirt that week that Ron had clawed to shreds in one of McGonagall's twisted training sessions, and regrettably that meant it let in a draft through all the holes. He contented himself with thinking warming thoughts about the warm, warm fire, and not about how hard it was going to be to climb the stairs back to the dorm.

"Hey."

Harry cracked his gaze, finding a slender, golden-haired illusion standing in front of him. The tips of her long hair were singed, soot on her face, and her golden eyes were observing him a little curiously.

"Ron," he croaked, "pinch me. I've started hallucinating."

Ron groaned an affirmation and tried to kick him instead, missing and rolling right off the couch.

Kaylens looked at Ron with some level of concern. "Um," she questioned apprehensively, "is Weasley alright?"

She'd called Ron Weasley. Merlin he wasn't hallucinating. "My God you're alive," he blurted, taking a second to notice that the soot wasn't just on her face, but covered the whole right side of her body.

She was also missing a shoe.

"What," he questioned, "happened to you?"

Her lips parted as if planning to answer, only an exhausted yawn escaped. "I-we might have blown up Snape's lab."

Harry balked, actually trying to sit up. "You what?"

Kaylens just shook her head, her long hair – which looked considerably shorter on the left side of head – out, ash rising up like a cloud. "Regulus thought we should mix in fairy mushrooms. Snape didn't. So naturally Regulus tossed them in anyway."

The gesture she made implied imminent doom for all parties.

"I'm fairly certain once they are out of the hospital wing that Snape might literally try to murder him."

Outside the wind gave another horrendous howl. "How," Harry asked, as if talking to a viper that may or may not give him an answer he wanted to hear, "are you not?"

"Oh I was," she said simply, "but she's really good at healing bones."

Harry made a choking sound.

Then his attention got stuck on something she'd said. "Wait, what do you mean bones?" There'd been an important plural in there somewhere that shouldn't have been.

She shrugged casually. "Leg, arm, couple ribs." Seeing the look he was giving her, she hastened, "Like I said, she's really good at healing bones if there's nothing else wrong with you. Snape got it worse. He broke his actual head."

Spying his hopeful look, she shot him a look all of her own. "Either way, the potions lab is temporarily closed and Snape's not allowed anywhere near a cauldron for at least a week."

To Harry's horror she actually looked put out by that.

"Thank Merlin," Ron groaned suddenly, "Harry was starting to get sulky."

Harry immediately stopped choking and shot Ron a malevolent look. To his friend's credit, he was still laying on the ground, face-down, not making any attempt to move.

Harry left him there, turning his attention back to Kaylens. "Really?" he hadn't meant to sound quite so happy about that. "Er…I-I mean, that's um…" He drug a hand through his hair, a piece of stone falling out of it from where Ron had batted him into the wall earlier.

Her light laughter struck him, sending his insides twisting. "Merlin, did I make the King of Idiocy actually stutter?"

With that she'd dropped down onto the couch next to him. "So, what happened to you two that caused…" she made a vague gesture at where Ron lay on the floor making comforting sounds to himself, "this?"

Ron made a random clawing sound and growling noises for effect. Harry stared at him. "He's delirious."

Kaylens merely tilted her head, eyeing him oddly. "Evidently." Her incredibly hazel gaze swiveled back onto his, the infuriating witch going quiet on him, gnawing on her lower lip. It was all he could do to rip his gaze off her mouth.

They'd barely talked, let alone…anything else. Merlin he didn't even know if that was what she wanted.

He sure as hell did though.

Finally he snapped himself out of it. "Lupin and McGonagall thought that Ron," gesturing at where he was impersonating a slug, "needed some practice at that whole werewolf changing thing he's been doing, and they needed a volunteer for the game of cat and mouse."

The look she gave him had a rumble shake his chest. "Yeah," he said, "when it's repeated it sounds crazy."

"Oh yes," she said placatingly, "it's crazy only when you repeat it aloud."

His mouth twitched. "Well duh."

Surprise flittered in her gaze, her lips curving into a rare smile.

"So uh…haven't seen you in awhile," he managed, awkwardly. The hearth gave a loud crack as if to remind them it was still there and the only thing standing between them and death by tower frostbite.

Kaylen's eyes were still flickering over his, her long lashes concealing traces of soot. "Yeah…" came her thoughtful affirmation, tone turning matter-of-fact, "sucks, doesn't it?"

He might have misheard, but Harry couldn't help it. His mouth twitched, a grin threatening him. "Yeah?"

She actually laughed, an impish glint in her eye. "Yeah," she confirmed.

Harry heaved a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, while Kaylens fingers had raised, half hesitating before she plucked at a hole in his shirt. "Why is it," she queried, "that half the time I see you, it looks like you brawled with a manticore and lost?"

He smiled cockily. "Should have seen the manticore."

"I'm sure."

Right. That was about all he could sodding take.

Harry hadn't a damn clue how he'd gotten on top of her. What he did know was that his cut up hand was clenching against her spine, her fingertips digging into the backs of his shoulders as he pressed her against the cushions, mouth seizing her lips, claiming them. He was relishing every sodding taste.

She tasted like soot.

He could only imagine what the hell he tasted like. Did debris and dust have a taste? Did getting bitch slapped by a werewolf leave a residue? He had not a damn clue. Instead he made an appreciative sound as her fingers dug into his hair, her nose shunting alongside his in a maddening way.

"Mione…help."

Harry paused, his head jerking up to find Hermione staring agape at them, Dean grinning from ear-to-ear, and Neville closing his eyes.

Ron, meanwhile, had started trying to army crawl away from them on the floor.

"Harry, I said talk to her, not- not-" Hermione made a gesture. "Really, Harry! Think of Ron! He's delicate!"

Ron's head darted up. "I am not delicate!"

Harry actually winced. "Of all the things I'm currently thinking about," he ground, "Ron is not one of them." Pausing, he added, "No offense."

The Gryffindor Keeper just blindly waved a hand back at him, from his position on the floor, where he appeared to be trying to burrow under the nearest rug. "None taken!"

Dean let out a loud laugh and continued on his way out of the common room, pumping a fist in the air at him.

Kaylens merely dropped her head back down on the couch, closing her eyes and huffing a frustrated breath.

His attention snapped back to her immediately, her gaze cracking as if she felt him looking at her. Pressing against her like this…that was doing things to him.

A piece of dust fell out of his hair, landing on her nose.

Kaylens lips twitched. "Shower?"

He grinned agreeably. "Shower."

"Back here in 20?"

"Make it 10."

Kalliandra made a disgruntled sound. "Fine."

With that he'd regained the ability to walk just fine, hauling her up with him and bolting for the dormitory stairs.

"You don't mean together, right?" Hermione sounded panicked. "Right, Harry?! I'm a prefect! I'd have to report-"

Harry didn't hear the rest of that as he had tripped and nearly face planted. Kaylens just laughed and bolted up her own dormitory stairs, totally abandoning him to Hermione's lecture.

Shooting her a betrayed look, he twisted around on the stairs and ground. "Of course not, Mione."

Then he was gone.