"We are going to have peace, even if we have to fight for it."

~ Dwight D. Eisenhower


Chapter 47 ~ Of Dementors & Chocolate


ECOTS


Kaylens was on the ground.

Seconds before a dementor's mouth had been plastered over hers, sucking.

Harry slammed into the ground beside her, his stomach twisting in an icy void. His hands were on her, shaking her. Her limp form didn't move.

The rain pounded brutally against his bare shoulders, Harry's hand already pressing against her chest, "Ennervate," hissed in a breath of desperation. Others had arrived, but Harry barely noticed any of it.

He'd wetly drug Kaylens against his chest, his hand on her face as he shook her. "Kaylens!" he croaked. "Kally! Please…"

She didn't respond, her wand falling limply from her fingers, sinking into the mud.

Silver patronuses barreled across the grounds, herding the dementors that had attacked the castle and the ones assaulting the pitch away. The silver light sent ghostly shadows flickering over Kaylens' face, his girlfriend too still.

It was as if the dementor had come back, reclaiming his mouth to coldly suck all the living air out of him.

Harry felt sick, terrified. The knowledge slithered through his veins like a toxin, his gaze lingering upon her pale face, her lips a deathly, ashen gray. His numb fingers were against the side of her neck, frantically seeking a pulse-

She had one. It was strong, steady. Harry's hand was beneath her nose an instant later, Kaylens breathing.

The ashen color…it was from the cold, the rain, her utter lack of clothing. He told himself that. She hadn't drawn. She wasn't dying. She was just cold. Harry could have laughed in relief, a choked sound instead coming from his throat.

The dementor had been kissing her…

Neville had already shrugged out of his cloak, dropping down next to them and wrapping it around Kaylens shoulders, covering her, his dorm mate shooting him a questioning look as others began bolting past, additional patronus charms shooting skyward.

Lightning broke the sky, the loud crack of thunder immediately following it indicating the storm's intensity. "Harry?" Neville let the question linger, not pushing. The torrent of water poured down from the black sky upon them, wind battering them heavily.

Harry was tugging the cloak firmly around her shoulders, tying it off to combat the wind, his mouth feeling oddly dry given the amount of rain and mud he was covered in. "A dementor," he rasped hollowly, "one…one got her."

Neville looked stricken, the wizard that had stood by him in the Department of Mysteries silent.

Harry shoved his frigid hand against Kaylens' equally cool cheek, desperately grating, "Ennervate." He wasn't too late. He hadn't been too late. The thought…he couldn't stomach it. He couldn't even think of it. His throat was being slowly choked, an invisible dementor obviously still there, strangling him.

His rain-slickened hands clutched onto Kaylens' limp body, Harry hoping against hope that she was still there, that he wasn't holding the soulless shell of the non-witch he loved minutes after she'd given herself to him.

"Harry…" Neville tried, the storm rumbling angrily.

"No," he bit, gaze burning. "Just no."

Harry bowed over her form, protecting her from the downpour even as heavy droplets sent mud splattering around them.

An eternity passed…

He felt something. He felt her move.

Too damn afraid to hope, Harry's throat clenched, head jerking up from over her. "Kaylens?"

Neville, hair plastered to his forehead, was looking off to the side. "Harry," he more determinedly said, trying to finish what he'd started, "The dementor. I think she-"

Harry didn't hear the rest of it.

Kaylens' eyes flickered open, a ragged gasp escaping her, a weak cough shaking her. Harry clutched her, his frozen hand desperately smoothing wet hair out of her face, away from her lips. His gaze raked over her like a man escaped from Azkaban seeing freedom for the first time. She was alive. But she could be alive. She could be alive without a soul. He couldn't allow that. He couldn't let that happen to her. Her waking up meant nothing unless she recognized him.

"Kally," he pled again. "You can't." The words were rough, choked, Harry needing her to say something, anything. She couldn't be gone.

The non-witch groaned, no words falling from her mouth. Instead…

She burrowed her face against his chest, tightening her fingers on his arm, the familiarity of the movement…

It was something she'd done to him countless times before.

Her fingertips curled weakly against his bicep, Harry's hand suddenly shifting, claiming her chin, forcing her to look at him. Champagne colored eyes blinked, water droplets sticking to her eyelashes as she squinted up.

And then she grumbled unhappily.

Relief struck him like a dagger through the heart. "Kaylens," his voice vibrated hoarsely, an out-of-place exultance seizing his chest. Instantly his face dropped against her sopping hair. Harry's hands were physically on her, needing her. He'd just had her, but it didn't compare to this.

He needed to touch her, to feel that she was there, with him, in his arms and alive, glaring at him and making a sudden upset sound as he all but smothered her. Harry wasn't hallucinating. Something of her was still there.

His Patronus had gotten there in time. She'd just passed out, like he had in the train and while playing Quidditch his third year. She'd just passed out…

A half-choked, relieved laugh escaped him.

Neville waved off someone who ran to check on them. "We're good!" he shouted. "Make sure no one else is out here!"

Harry's head jerked up, gaze scanning the pitch, the grounds. "Neville, the attack. Are they-"

"It's covered."

Gratitude flooded him. Fighting right now wasn't something he was eager to do. His attention turned back to the non-witch sprawled over his legs. The wind howled, cold lips moving as he muttered, "Kally…are you-"

She nodded weakly.

Harry's arms wound around her slender form so damn tight that it was a marvel he didn't kill her. His fingers clenched, then unclenched, almost rhythmically in her tangled hair, a full good minute passing before either of them tried to talk.

She managed first.

"Take it," she finally breathed, faintly, "those were dementors?"

He let out another choked damn laugh, rain pounding down. "Yeah," he gasped, "real treats aren't they?"

She merely groaned in response, wearily trying to sit up. Harry helped her, both of them having sunk so far into the mud that sitting was a relative term at this point, every centimeter of their skin slickened in brown dirt.

Her golden eyes still flickered with aberrant magic. Harry hadn't ever seen them do that unless she'd drawn, and she hadn't. But that spell…

Harry swallowed, throat tight. He'd talk to her. Later. Not now. Not right after she'd nearly become worse than dead.

She tugged weakly at his arm, pulling his attention away from his thoughts and down to where she was looking at the oddly dry robe wrapped around her, silent confusion flitting across her features. She wouldn't remember. She'd been unconscious when Neville had arrived. Obviously she'd have questions about where a waterproof cloak had come from.

Harry tilted his head towards Neville, their house mate grinning sheepishly.

"Reckoned you could use a cloak, Kal."

Her lips parted in silent understanding, eyes momentarily focusing upon Neville, but she didn't look embarrassed. Hell…

Harry could have kissed her for that alone. She wasn't ashamed to have been literally caught with him half-dressed. The fact that they'd been caught sodding shirtless slicing through him now that he knew she was alive, still her, her soul intact.

They'd still been caught.

"Neville," he grated, throat barely working, "any chance you could not…"

"Didn't see anything," Neville responded automatically, rising to a knee to get up. "Far as I'm concerned I was just being chivalrous and giving Kaylens there an extra layer." The pounding feet of the American, Jake resounded through the storm, the wizard heading back towards them, his boots slinging mud with his approach.

He was the only other one to have seen them like this.

Harry looked around, everyone else far enough off, forming a perimeter. He shifted his hold on Kaylens to one arm, snaring his wand and pointing it. "Accio shirts," he muttered beneath his breath.

The shirts they couldn't find when the attack had begun flew out from the locker room, hurtling through the rain and across the pitch, smacking him square in the face.

Kaylens made an amused sound, obviously not up to talking much yet. Otherwise she surely would have mocked him.

"Hey Jake," Neville said conversationally, purposely turning his back towards them to give them space, "we didn't see anything strange here, yeah?"

The American looked confused for a half second, before the blonde caught on to the fact that Neville was missing his robe and that Kaylens was wearing it, obviously in a partially disrobed state, whilst Harry was fumbling with two shirts.

A truncated guffaw broke out of Jake, as if highly amused to see the D.A. instructor caught with a girl.

"Pretty dark out here, Nevs. Shocked we even ran into these two at all." The blonde that had hit on Kaylens within the first minute of meeting any of them shot him a wink.

Then he too turned around, mimicking Neville in the rain storm.

The lingering urge to hex the American dissipated. Slightly.

"Hey," Harry murmured, attention back on Kaylens', her entire form seeming to sway where she sat, "think you can…"

She was already nodding, her fingers snagging her shirt from out of his hand. Harry released her only long enough to shrug back into his, not because he needed it but due to the realization that Remus might literally kill him if he stumbled upon either of them in that state of dis-attire. Or worse…

He might give him another sex talk.

Neville and Jake glanced back, a contemplative look crossing the latter's features. "You both alright?"

Harry glanced up, his hand having already fallen back onto Kaylens' arm, somewhat shocked that the American with the inheritance and hair that actually cooperated wasn't being an ass. He'd been a hell of a one in the D.A., hitting on Luna and daring to ask Harry where his girlfriend was.

He'd taken great pleasure in aiming every violent hex he could think of at Jake, throughout the rest of the training session, under the guise of 'training.' And no, he had not cared that Hermione had scolded him, his best friend harpishly reminding him that the wizard had just been asking an innocent question about someone's whereabouts and not propositioning.

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, just got ambushed."

Jake nodded, smirking a bit. "I can see that." The wizard instantly grabbed Neville's arm, tilting his head and suggesting, "Ya know, isn't there a periphery or something we could be checking out? Ya know, securing?"

Neville snorted, the two moving off a few paces. Immediately Harry decided that Jake might be okay.

Again his attention turned back to Kaylens, Harry dragging his hands slowly up her cold arms to her shoulders, wetting his already soaked lips as he looked at her. He did nothing else. He just looked.

The rain was pounding down, dripping down her face, Harry able to see every detail in the dark thanks to Dumbledore's and Fawke's meddling. It wasn't late, but thanks to the storm the shadows were thick, dark. The sheer amount of things that had just happened to them…

They'd talked.

They'd had sex.

They'd both nearly been kissed by a dementor, outnumbered in too many directions.

A golden light had saved his ass. He had no delusions about who had sent it.

"That spell," he managed, gaze penetrating, "the one that took out the dementor, was that you?" He'd never seen anything other than a damn patronus charm send one scattering, and yet…

The spell that had torn the dementor's hand from his throat had done exactly that.

Kalliandra shivered beneath his hands, but nodded, a weak smile touching her ashen gray lips. "That thing," she quietly told, her eyes looking a bit more there, "was trying to snog you." Her golden orbs narrowed through the weather's wicked onslaught, the non-witch muttering darkly, "The bitch."

Harry blinked. "Did you," he questioned, dumbfounded, "just call a dementor a bitch?"

Sitting there, soaked to the bone on the Quidditch pitch, in the middle of a thunderstorm, a sudden horrified look crossed Kaylens' face. "Merlin…it wasn't a guy dementor was it?"

Harry about choked.

Despite how pale she was, despite how exhausted she looked, Kaylens' eyes narrowed pointedly, his girlfriend evidently waiting.

"I don't-" he stammered, "I don't think dementors have a sex." Then again, he'd heard they had been breeding, the thought of that making him physically wince.

The non-witch in his hold didn't look any happier, her eyes practically flashing. "Snogging you is my job, not some floating corpse out of a-"

An impossibly warm feeling swept over him.

Harry tugged her to him, his mouth gently pressing against hers, silencing her protestations. His lips moved slowly, his muddy hand weaving its way through her hair. She was alive, and obviously well enough to be getting worked up about trivial things.

"That's one," he voiced in a low growl, "I owe you now." Their running tally of who had saved whose life hadn't had any activity in months.

Harry's lidded gaze cracked, silently watching her. Kaylens' did not flutter open, remaining determinedly closed against the water. The storm was slowly letting up. "If that's true," she asked, "then how did that dementor trying to make out with me go away?"

An icy wind gusted past, sending her hair swirling into his face.

"I thought," she continued in quiet accusation, "I saw a stag."

He snorted. "Saw that did you?" Harry's hand slid to the side of her face, thumb caressing water from her cheekbone. "Fine," he drawled in concession, "we're even." Beneath his fingers her skin was freezing, chilled. Words fell from his lips, concentration fully upon her.

"Cutis," he whispered, "calidum."

Wandless warmth melted out of his callused hand, spreading to Kaylens' smooth cheek, moving across her body, the unbidden shudder of her form against his welcome.

It didn't help that her shirt was soaked, sticking flush against her form, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And given what they had just been doing his imagination was incredibly vivid.

His throat suddenly felt dry again. He shifted in the wet grass, pressing his mouth slowly to hers, movements as calm, controlled as he could get. He felt her lips trying to move in speech despite his ministrations. "You're still," she murmured, "ahead," claiming his upper lip, "actually," now his lower, "from…before."

Harry's hold flexed unbreakably upon her. "Complaining?" he growled.

"Depends," she relayed, hands sliding blindly over his wet shirt, "what you win."

Harry groaned. "Think I already did." He'd won. He'd won a thousand times over already. He had her.

A choked gag carried on the wind to them. "Mother of Merlin, No wonder he looked like he wanted to pummel me for just looking at her. The guy is a total sap."

Harry paused what he was doing, pulling back from Kaylens ever so slightly to direct a very serious look towards the American.

Jake just grinned from a safe thirty paces off, realizing they'd heard him. "What?" he called out, owning it. "Bit surprised is all, given you kicked our asses at that D.A. meeting and from what Justin said about ya, we had this picture of someone a bit more growly. Not," the wizard made a gesture at the two of them, "a cuddly, lovestruck sap."

Harry stared at him, skipping over the latter portion of the insult and filing it away for later revenge. "Growly?"

Kally's eyes had fluttered open, the non-witch glancing over her shoulder at Jake. "Only," she told, "when you try to hex him." She then inclined an eyebrow pointedly at him. "Kicked their asses, Potter?"

"I think," Jake said helpfully, "he was pissed about the way I said hi to you and the other girls initially. He didn't like it."

Harry glanced at her, not bothering to hide his smirk at the look she was giving. "What?" he said. "He's right. I didn't."

Kaylens' lips parted, an exhausted sigh escaping. Once more her words were directed towards Jake. "He hexed you, didn't he?"

Jake guffawed loudly. "As in singular? No. Plural? Yes."

Her eyes really narrowed then, Harry now pressing his mouth back to hers out of instinct for self-preservation. The familiar scents of rain and mud and earth clung to her, so many of their sodding trysts having occurred in dire circumstances outside while soaked. Yet here she had been, glaring that he'd engaged in some slight hexing of another wizard for looking at her, Luna and Ginny.

The wind around them gave an aberrant howl.

They were still on the grounds, in the open, even if they were surrounded by reinforcements. They needed to leave.

Harry reluctantly pulled away, gaze studying her acutely. "Think you can move?"

Kaylens nodded, Harry heaving a relieved breath. The first time he'd passed out from a dementor he'd felt ill for awhile. Standing, tugging her up with him, mud squelching as they yanked themselves out of it, Harry turned his attention towards Neville and Jake, expression growing grave.

"So what happened?"

Neville grimaced, no humor in his words. "Castle got attacked. The things came in through the tower windows."

Harry's jaw turned, humorlessly. "Yeah, saw that." The set of his friend's jaw told him there was more though.

There was.

"They went for the youngest first."

His breath grew cold in a way that had nothing to do with being soaked in a storm or his recent brush with death by dementor. "And?" he croaked.

Neville shook his head. "Don't know. Gryffindor tower survived. Not sure about the rest."

There was nothing good about that statement, Harry's gaze jerking towards the castle, searching…

Pinpricks of light in the shadows could be seen starting to move back towards it. The reinforcements ready to guard inside, rather than out, now that the dementors had been driven off. "We should go."

"Yeah well, before that…" Jake had walked a few paces off, questioning, "Any of you see this?" The wizard's dragon hide boot kicked something on the ground, a dull thud heard above the pouring rain.

Harry turned, his blood growing cold.

Not four meters away from them lay a cloaked, grey thing. The thing had collapsed onto the mud-laden ground, rain pounding down around it, its scabbed over skin slowly sinking into the pitch.

It wasn't moving.

It was where Harry had been slowly getting strangled by one, before Kaylens had hexed it.

Jake looked up, looking a bit confused. "Think it's dead."

Around them the storm continued to rage, rain pouring down in torrents so thick that seeing anything other than light through it was near impossible. It didn't matter. Something chilled crawled across his skin, Harry's hair standing on damn end as he turned from the dementor to Kaylens, staring at her.

She'd killed it.

There, in the raging squall, the cold realization of why that witch in the Three Broomsticks, months ago had been afraid. She'd called Kaylens a living grim.

Kaylens wasn't looking at him, her eyes flickering towards the dead thing, the non-witch gnawing on her lower lip. "I told you," she whispered through the wind, nothing happy in her words, "I could take care of myself, Harry." The way she was looking at it though…

It was like she hadn't expected to see that. And slowly it dawned on him…

She hadn't realized she'd killed it.

Something cold churned within him, his stomach twisting. It didn't matter. Slowly, in the dark, Harry reached for her hand, the touch of her skin against his sending an aberrant tingling across his flesh. Swallowing, interlacing his fingers possessively between hers, he looked towards the others. "Should levitate that back to the castle." It wasn't a request.

Then he looked out across the pitch, scanning it for any others, any more of those things. His ability to see in the dark allowed him to cut through the shadows, but the rain obscured it. Still…he saw nothing.

His fingers tightened upon Kally, the muscle within his chest beating unnaturally.

"Let's go."


ECOTS


The fire within the school's kitchen burned like an inferno, throwing out heat towards its freezing occupants in waves.

Kalliandra clutched a cup of hot cocoa between her hands, her hair still dripping and caked with mud. The drying charms they'd been hit with as soon as they'd gotten into the entrance hall hadn't been enough to remove that.

Harry stood behind her, both of his hands resting almost possessively on the back of her chair, the wizard having chugged his cup in three seconds flat.

She could still hear the dog-like sounds he'd made from burning his tongue.

Remus was eyeing them with some concern, the wizard dropping a full-sized chocolate bar into Tonks cocoa, the normally jovial-looking witch looking pale, withdrawn.

"How in the hell did they get onto the grounds?" Harry growled for the third time, the rest of those that had leapt to the castle's defenses and been directly exposed to a dementor gathered and listening.

Justin Finch-Fletchley shook his head, his blonde hair somehow looking styled despite having been in the soaking rain and having come face-to-face with one of those things. He'd been near the lake, defending from that angle. "I'm guessing You-Know-Who sent them." He looked around, chomping on a chocolate bar. "I mean, everyone knows Hogwarts it the last bastion of safety for those actually willing to do something about it, right? So it makes sense."

Kally wet her lips, the taste of chocolate upon them. Justin might not be in the Order, or even aware of its existence, but he was sharp.

"I don't think anyone's questioning who," Remus pointed out, "it's more a matter of the motivation."

"Ah, so wanting to kill us all no longer constitutes reason enough for a mad man," Regulus drawled. "My, my, who knew."

Behind her Harry made a terse sound. "I asked how, not who."

Kally sighed wearily, leaning over the table and closing her eyes. Potter had been tense ever since they'd left the Quidditch pitch. In fact, he was practically biting off people's heads.

"The Ministry," Tres stated in response to Harry's point. "It's my understanding that they let them on the grounds once before, so they may still have enough knowledge of the wards and access to the grounds to let them back on again."

"They abandoned the Ministry though," Hermione logically pointed out. "They're not controlled by them anymore."

"Dumbledore wouldn't give them access to the wards," Harry practically growled. "I'd bet anything he'd changed them the second they left after our third year."

"The wards of Hogwarts are ancient, Potter. You presume much to think they can be changed upon the whims of any Headmaster's fancy." Snape hovered by the door like a phantom, looking increasingly disgusted with being left on babysitting duty.

The snarl from behind had Kally tilting her head backwards to shoot Potter a look. He was so preoccupied with glaring at Snape he didn't notice. "Dumbledore could," he viciously countered.

"Ignorance."

"Oh I don't know, I'd call it confidence," Harry bit. "Dumbledore can actually do more than stir a pot."

An angered sound rose up from Snape at the jab on potions. "Potions requires a degree of subtlety the likes of which you will never understand. Your foolish inability to fail to follow even the simplest of directions-"

"Like I said, simple."

"Why you-"

"Enough!" Remus voice broke in, interrupting the two before they could escalate further. "We have more pressing matters than your two's unresolved quarrels."

Professor Snape's malevolent glare slowly turned from Harry to Remus, his entire form looking unbelievably calm, yet undiluted fury remained unmasked within his eyes.

Behind her Harry bristled, but Kally just sighed. "So you think," she muttered almost to herself, "potions is simple. Great." Despite the closeness of the afternoon, the sheer relief she'd seen in his eyes when she'd woken up on the pitch, he still likened the type of magic she was being trained in to the skill level of a common house cat.

The reminder of how useless he'd made her feel earlier in the week returned full force, her eyes flickering forlornly over the surface of her hot chocolate. She didn't see him, but she could practically feel him go very still. "Kally, I didn't mean-"

"Course not ward," Regulus cheerfully interjected, reclining in his chair across from them. "Though do appraise the intelligence of persisting down this vein. Even I'm interested in how you'll dig your way out of that hole."

Kally shot Regulus a scathing glare, the other Potion's Master just smirking. Besides him Tonks just shot them both a wide eyed look, shaking her head and mouthing flowers over her head at Harry.

Instantly Harry's head dropped down alongside hers, the wizard starting to ask-

"I don't like," Kally practically hissed, "flowers."

Tonks gave them a shrug, as if to say I tried.

Harry attempted to snag her hand, Kally flicking him away half-heartedly. She was definitely allowed to be irritated with him for at least five minutes.

A loud clatter resonated in the kitchen and broke the tension before someone could explode. Dobby was shuffling kettles, all other house elves having been requested to leave to allow them a private conversation. Professors Gai and Snape were supervising. The other professors, including McGonagall, and the American guests, Dean, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Terry Boot and Susan Bones had taken up guard at various points around the castle.

They would not leave it unguarded. Not ever again.

The current group of guards had cast patronuses, but they hadn't come face-to-face with dementors the way those gathered here had. Hermione and Ron had encountered the ones attacking Gryffindor tower, Remus and Tonks the Ravenclaw tower while visiting with Luna, Justin and Hannah in the Hufflepuff dorms, and the rest outside.

Hell, a few of them had encountered dementors twice.

Hermione yawned, the hour not late, not by any means. It was barely seven, but dementors had a way of taking all your energy out of you. Kally yawned herself, Hermione's exhaustion contagious. Ron Weasley just stared angrily at the doorway.

"Does anyone else find it convenient that they showed up just a few days after the Americans and everyone else?"

Ron's words caught Justin and Hannah's attentions, the former frowning furiously. "Ease off Weasley. I know them."

The Gryffindor Keeper shot him a look that clearly conveyed how convincing that was. "Uh huh," he stated skeptically as a new cup of hot chocolate appeared in front of him. "So said every person about every Death Eater they ever knew."

"The States aren't like it here. They don't care about pureblood-mania nonsense."

"So what? You spent three months there and are suddenly an expert on their societal politics?"

Hermione looked up from her cocoa at Ron using the phrase 'societal politics,' looking vaguely surprised. "Ron…" she murmured, sounding almost impressed.

The Weasley was so busy fixing a glare on Justin that he didn't have a chance to turn red up to his roots.

Fletchley just growled. "They didn't have to come here to help, Ron. They're only here because a crazy person from our region set a plague loose that killed people they know." He shot a look towards Professor Gai. "Kind of like the Aussies, right Professor?"

Tres was leaning against a counter, his head directly beneath a bunch of hanging steel pots. "Wanting to help stop Voldemort," he agreed far too seriously, his brother's recovery clearly taking a toll on him, "is not limited by geographic location. His damage has spread too far for that."

Justin turned a smug look on Ron. "See?"

Ron slammed his hands down on the table, several mugs of cocoa spilling as his literal claws started to edge out of his nails-

"Enough Weasley!" Professor Snape had taken up post by the door, the Potion's Master looking at him with an air of disdain. "Your total and complete inability to moderate your emotional states makes you far more a liability than any help from abroad. As loathsome as I find it to agree with him," the look he shot towards Tres made who he referred to very clear, "Mr. Fletchley's assessment is indeed correct. I took the liberty of dosing all the newcomers with veritaserum on their first day myself."

Everyone stared, Justin sputtering, "You what?"

"Dosed them, Mr. Fletchley. Or did you think that showing up with strangers to a school during a time of war would be something that could slip by the attentions of your betters without notice?"

Weasley actually laughed, earning him a half dozen odd looks. To his credit the werewolf just smirked. "What? For once I actually agree with Snape."

"Professor, Weasley," Snape growled. "Thirty points from Gryffindor for liberally using surnames without impunity."

"I'm so glad," Remus observed caustically, "that everyone is remaining so calm and cooperative."

Tonks flat out snorted in response.

A slight smile tugged at Kally's lips, her first legitimate smile since the screaming had grown in her mind to the point that she'd passed out. It'd been bad timing, considering a dementor had been sucking on her face. "How'd you do it, Professor?" She was genuinely curious as to whether or not Snape had done it directly or used subterfuge. Over the past few months, as intolerable as the professor could be, she'd come to admire his underhanded tactics.

Merlin, if she'd been pureblood the sorting hat probably would have put her in Slytherin.

"In the cider they drank," he stated, sounding considerably calmer, "so it could take hold before any occlumency training they may have had could be used."

A laugh escaped her, Justin sputtering indignantly. Behind her Harry just grunted. "Figures."

Before Justin could stop sputtering long enough to even formulate a response the door to the kitchens swung wide open, Dumbledore striding in. Behind her the wood of the chair cracked slightly, Potter's grip growing tight on it, his relationship with the Headmaster obviously still strained despite his previous defense of the man.

With a sigh Kally closed her eyes. Right. Her five minutes to be annoyed with him was up.

She reached back and dropped her hand over Harry's, giving it a squeeze.

Harry's response was to immediately snare her fingers, intertwining them between his and clutching hard. It almost physically hurt, Kally wincing but saying nothing.

Somehow she figured Potter needed this right now.

"Why Remus what an excellent idea," the Headmaster stated pleasantly. "I always have found that a spot of cocoa after such nasty business really does hit the spot." The wizard walked up, pouring himself a cup, turning to where Snape stood scowling. "Why Severus, would you care for one?"

"I'm not," Snape said in a clipped tone, "thirsty."

"Get a flask, Severus," Regulus drawled, raising his own from beneath the table. "It does wonders for alleviating concerns of poisoning." He looked at his mug suspiciously. "Never know with these house elves."

Dobby suddenly appeared on the table directly before Regulus. "Dobby does not poison. Dobby is a good house elf."

"Damn right he is," Harry tensely threw, Kally practically feeling his burning gaze leveled on his legal guardian.

Dobby spun on the table, sending Harry a grateful nod before absolutely beaming. "Dobby is a free elf. Harry Potter is his friend."

"Damn straight, Dobby," Potter responded, losing Gryffindor another 20 points for language.

"My, my ward, we are drawing our friends rather low aren't we?"

"Thou does not insult Harry Potter!" With a snap a frying pan appeared over Regulus Black's head, getting ready to swing-

With a flick of his wrist Dumbledore sent the frying pan disappearing, calmly stating, "I believe Regulus may be under the influence Dobby. I do apologize for him."

Dobby still had his hand raised, fingers ready to snap, as if considering conjuring another pan in defiance of his paid employer anyway.

"And now we've gone and offended other magical species," Remus observed, like an unconcerned announcer calling plays on a train wreck Quidditch game. "Does anyone else see a problem with this?"

Tonks grinned. "Sorry luv, but I don't think anyone else is concerned with civilities."

Remus looked distinctly put out.

A strange growl rose up from behind her. "Don't worry about Black, Dobby," Harry tossed out. "He's just mad his big brother didn't hug him enough."

Regulus snarled darkly. "Careful ward, or I might ban you from seeing that little girlfriend of yours all summer."

"I'd like to see you try."

Justin slammed his cup down tensely, obviously finished. "Tender as all this is," he ground bitterly, interrupting, "I think I'm going to go check on the others." Levelling a look towards Professor Snape, he added, "Before anyone has a chance to slip me something." Then the Hufflepuff stood, waving a rigid goodbye to everyone but Ron and Snape, shooting both of them disgruntled looks.

Ron just made an exaggerated face that had Hermione hissing at him.

"Well," Remus stated, "that went well."

Hannah sent them all an apologetic look, standing to follow. Harry's gaze just followed their progress, the second the door closed behind them the wizard turning back to the group. "Voldemort knows. That's why he sent the dementors today. He knows were going after it."

From across the table Hermione frowned. "Harry how-did your scar?"

"No. Nothing. Just a hunch." Despite the hard clip to his tone Kally felt his fingers begin to twine through her mud-encrusted hair, the movement gentle, comforting. It occurred to her that it was probably more for him than her at this point. "Why else would they show up now? He can sense when they're in danger."

No one was saying the actual word, horcruxes, but they all knew what he meant.

Dumbledore frowned. "I believe, Harry, you may be correct. Alastor, Arthur and Kingsley are bound to be nearing position. It is perhaps…possible he has somehow detected their approach."

"Then they could be in danger," said Remus urgently. "This is hardly a time for sitting and chatting about it."

Despite the implications of the conversation going on around them, Kally's eyes fluttered closed. The feel of Harry's hand in her hair, her other clenched in his grip, had an unbelievably soothing effect. He'd pay for the potions comment later, but this was a nice start…

Alongside them Ron gagged, Harry's hand leaving her hair for but a second. Given that Snape removed even more points from Gryfindor, Kally could guess what gesture Harry had just shot Ron.

She could have sworn she heard Tonks and Remus chuckle.

"It's like a contest," Ron stated, sounding almost awed, "to see how many points they can lose us."

"Four hundred and thirty five," Hermione said sullenly, earning looks from Ron, Harry and herself. The brown haired witch looked up, somewhat surprised. "What? I've been tallying…that doesn't include any points that you both lost us when Ron and I were also involved."

It wasn't Kally's imagination; behind her Potter snorted.

"So," Tonks spoke up, breaking her previous silence, "what's the plan, then?" The Auror's expression was serious, but her eyes looked slightly brighter, the witch snuggling up to Remus at the table. "We going to their rescue now?"

Remus grimaced. "They could be in considerable danger now if Voldemort knows they are there."

"You can bet," Snape drawled, "that he will be counting on that. If we rush to their aid now, we will be intercepted."

"Regrettably," Dumbledore stated, "the nature of the portkey we have created is tied to the latitude and longitude where the boat will meet us, and not to the moving target itself. We anticipated this probability, so they already will have been on a lookout. However," the Headmaster plucked a chocolate chunk off the plate in front of Ron's nose, "if they are truly evading Death Eaters, they may have veered off course temporarily. There will be no way for us to know where they are in the entire Atlantic. If we were to portkey or apparate to their aid now, we would be no more than buoys in an empty sea, waiting for their arrival." He paused in consideration, adding, "I imagine it would be a very cold wait."

"Well we have to do something," Tonks said, sounding like she was contemplating something reckless. "Maybe we could just-"

"Oh yes," Regulus interjected, "let's just apparate there to chum the waters. I'm sure the sharks must be lovely."

Kally's head darted up. "Sharks?"

Potter's legal guardian smirked. "Well, well, ward, I think we just fell upon what your girlfriend's afraid of."

Harry made a disgruntled sound.

The Headmaster just popped another stolen chocolate piece into his mouth, looking quite pleased with his selection. "Ah peppermint." Swallowing, the man pressed, "I am rather afraid Remus, Tonks, that there is little we can do for them until we receive their signal that they are indeed at the rendezvous point. That could be as early as four a.m., or as late as four p.m. tomorrow, depending on the route they take. In the meantime I would suggest that all parties departing get some well-needed rest."

With that he plucked a full chocolate bar off Regulus' plate, taking a bite as he left, pausing near the doorway to question Snape. "The location of…"

"In my quarters."

"Very well."

The second the door shut behind Dumbledore Harry grimaced. "The location of what?"

Snape fixed him with such a look of pure, unadulterated hate that Kally actually winced. "For someone so full of themselves to think themselves capable of taking on the dementor attack single handedly, you are slow to pick up on the fact that we could not just leave the body of a dementor laying around."

Potter's fingers flexed in between hers, a growl coming from him. "We were the ones who brought it in off the grounds. Not that you'd have listened long enough to find that out."

Ron just perked his head up. "Wait, body? I thought you couldn't kill those things."

Snape turned a scowl upon them. "As I've told both you and Potter before, Mr. Weasley, the patronus charm is not the only defense against a dementor. They are living creatures and as such, can die." Sneering, he drawled, "If you are capable of wrapping your mind around the infinitesimally common concept of the circle of life."

"But how?"

"Kaylens." It was Harry who answered, his hand tweaking her ear in a friendly, relaxed gesture not reflected in his words. "Thing attacked me."

Every head turned to her, with the exception of Snape and Regulus, who had been busy mixing whiskey into his cocoa so as to turn it Irish.

"The girl," Regulus enunciated, "is a bloody Reach. I do suppose all of you could cease being surprised when she goes ahead and kills something."

Harry's grip on her suddenly tightened. "She's not a killer."

Regulus merely inclined a lazy eyebrow. "I believe that's actually exactly what she is, ward." Smirking, he drawled, "Unless the girl would like to correct me."

Kally couldn't. She wouldn't. That much, at least, was true.

Setting her cocoa down Kally decided not to answer. Regulus was right, she was. Sighing, squeezing Potter's hand and releasing it, she murmured, "I think…I'm going to get some sleep."

She'd reached out when that thing was trying to kill Potter, and finding the tenuous thread that kept the unnatural creature attached to this world hadn't been hard. It'd been fast, easy. The wand had made it ridiculously so.

Wizards, people were hard to kill. The undead and dementors…not so much.

Dementors were already half-dead anyway. She'd felt it in that fleeting second when her spell had fired back to her.

It was why they sought souls.

She started to move-

Potter beat her to it, pulling her chair out with her still on it. "I'll go with you," he grunted, fixing Regulus with a dark stare. "Not much liking the company here anyway.


ECOTS


Kaylens was out of the kitchens quicker than he was, Harry having to hurry to catch up with her. "Kally, wait," he demanded, the door thudding shut behind him. The last thing he wanted was for her to be wandering off alone when there was a chance dementors could still show back up.

She'd killed one. He was still wrapping his mind around that.

He still didn't want her going anywhere alone right now. She might have killed one, but she'd almost been kissed by one too. The very vivid image of the dementor attached to her face had his fists clenching.

He'd thought he'd lost her for a dark damn minute there.

Harry caught up to her, Kaylens unnaturally still in the torch-lit corridor, waiting for him besides an empty holder. Swiftly his gaze raked over her, unconsciously still looking for signs of injury, finding none.

It still didn't stop his grimace, Harry not touching her. Not yet. He needed to gauge her level of anger with him over that potions comment first.

Sodding non-witch was volatile.

Judging from her silence but lack of scowl, he figured it numbered somewhere around an eight.

"You're mad," he grated, the shadows from the nearest torch dancing artfully over her face.

He'd insulted Snape, but inadvertently insulted her too. When it came to girls he really was an idiot.

Kaylens' golden eyes flickered over his, mud still streaked across her cheeks. Hell…she somehow looked good even when her skin was streaked with dirt, the Quidditch pitch's mud caked thickly in her tangled hair, chunks of earth visible within it.

There was even a blade of grass sticking out from behind her ear, his jaw line turning slightly.

Despite himself he reached up, carefully extracting it, fingertips grazing the top of her ear. The look of confusion that passed through her eyes he responded to by holding the single, green blade in front of her nose, before dropping it, letting it fall to the cool corridor's floor.

Not once did he take his eyes off her, so he didn't miss the slightly amused glint in her eyes. "I'm not mad, Harry," she intoned, her gaze moving from where the grass had fallen back up to him. "Bit irritated maybe," she continued, shrugging artlessly, "but I figure that's just you going off at Snape since you know it'll piss him off. It's not personal."

A shock of relief hit him, the tightening in his chest considerably relaxing. "I wasn't aiming that at you," he confirmed solidly. "Snape is just a righteous ass and needs taken down a peg or five. Occasionally."

Kaylens' lips twitched slightly, the non-witch clearly biting down on the inside of her cheek as she studied him. "Mmhmm, and you're just the person to do that?"

"It's in my top five," he drawled, "favorite hobbies."

A mud-coated, golden eyebrow inclined. "And the other four?"

Her query lingered upon the air, Harry standing close to her. Very close in a darkened hall, not touching. He could practically feel her.

He met her gaze, levelly. "Quidditch."

It was like watching a smug cat, the non-witch leaning her back against the corridor wall, smile teasing her mouth as the torches flickered around them.

Kaylens lifted a hand, all five fingers splayed out, before curling two of her fingers down, waving the three remaining at him in a slight taunt. "That's two."

Slowly, very slowly, Harry moved. His hand lifted, palm pressing against the wall along the right side of her head. "Torturing," he lowly relayed, "Ron about Hermione, since they've been dancing around each other for years."

Kalliandra's lips curved up, an amused glint in her champagne colored gaze. "Cruel friend, Potter. That's three."

A low, animal-like sound left his throat. His other hand lifted, dropping firmly against the wall along the other side of her head, boxing her in. "I confess," he admitted darkly, "I rather like studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. The books are rather fascinating." His gaze roamed over her face, lips twitching. "Ever breath a word to Hermione that I like reading something," he threatened lowly, "and I'll deny it."

The amused breath she released ghosted across his chin, Harry fighting back the urge to take a rough hold of her. He wanted to, yet still…he didn't touch her.

Kaylens just smirked, hovering between his chest and the wall as she lowered another finger. "That's four, Potter."

His callused fingertips flexed against the stoning. "Would think," he bluntly told, looking her dead in the eye, "the last one would be obvious."

Her head tilted ever so slightly, curiously. "Oh?"

"Yeah, you. Or did you think you somehow ranked lower than Snape on the list of 'activities I'd rather partake in?'"

"Didn't realize I was an activity."

"Kaylens," he relayed, darkly serious, "you're a full blown event."

Oil from one of the torches dripped dangerously onto the floor, the scent heavy within the air, her voice a bare whisper. "Am I now?" Unconcealed humor danced in her eyes, firelight reflecting within her irises, and Harry…

Harry's mouth was lowring alongside her ear, the non-witch still trapped, boxed in between his wrists. "On a Quidditch," he practically growled, "World Cup scale."

He could feel how still she'd grown, the warmth of her form nearly pressing to his, a mere centimeter separating them there in corridor, causing Harry's breaths to come harder. Kalliandra shifted slightly, her head turning until her mouth was very near his ear. "And to think," she murmured, "I was planning to stay irritated with you for at least five more minutes."

"Pity," he retorted brusquely, quietly, lips grazing her ear, "I had plans for those five minutes."

Kaylens breathing had grown slower. "Penning an apology letter to Voldemort?" she wryly inquired. "He wasn't even on your top five hobbyist list, Potter. He'll be terribly disappointed."

Voldemort…only she could joke about that, and yet…

A quiver of amusement remained within him.

His face abruptly turned, muttering directly against her earth-scented hair now. "He's less a hobby and more a detestable chore," he practically bit, Kaylens's face leaning towards his mouth. Harry breathed her in, her pleasing scent overwhelming in a manner that triggered all kinds of want at primitive levels.

Their night had been brutally interrupted. Tomorrow could bring something far, far worse. Harry was cognizant of that fact, of the fact that they might not all make it back, and yet…

He was exercising restraint, a deviant streak slicing through him. It was a test of who cracked first, neither touching the other, and he was enjoying every sodding second of it. Tugging back only slightly, just enough to actually look at her, his green gaze roved intently over hers, a hard core driven through him.

"How in the hell," he half-whispered, still awed by the turn of events, "did I land you?"

Her lips parted in seeming amusement, a breathless laugh escaping her. "You mean literally here, in the corridor, or in general?"

His chest rumbled in a deep growl, fingers flexing against the wall. "Both."

"Obviously," she deadpanned, "we were both drugged. Heavily."

"Of course…." He found himself nodding. "Makes sense."

"Only explanation."

"Wonder who," mouth moving closer to hers, "we send the thank you owl to."

Only a light murmur of agreement met him, Harry's lips just touching hers-

"I await the day," erupted the abrupt, annoyed sounding drawl, "when I can walk through a corridor without the risk of running into the two of you."

Harry didn't move from where he was, hovering nearly on top of Kaylens. His gaze remained closed, not a glance spared for the sarcasm. "No points lost," he muttered conversationally to Kalliandra, "can't be Snape."

Her breath audibly hitched against his lips. "Evidently."

"Pity. Almost preferred him."

"Disgusting," Regulus lamented dryly. "It's almost as if you two actually like each other and aren't just hormonal teens. At least the latter I could have respected."

Harry's brow dropped against Kally's, but his words were now, finally directed towards Regulus. "You're a piss poor guardian, you know that?"

The wizard snorted, already sounding more distant, as if he'd walked farther off down the corridor. "Given your similarities to that brother of mine and your propensity for suicidal acts I rather don't see you surviving very long, ward," he drawled. "Far be it for me to interfere with your pivotal teenage moments."

Harry felt the angered hiss Kaylens made, deciding that now was the right time to give in. Preferably before she killed someone.

So he did.

Shooting Regulus a hand gesture that surely would have landed him scrubbing cauldrons for a week, Harry closed the scant half-centimeter of distance separating them. The feel of Kally's lips against his, the warmth, the familiarity, the sudden sound she made in response to the pressure of his mouth upon hers…

Somewhere, farther off in the hallway, Regulus made an angered sound. Harry faintly heard it, but the muscle within his chest was pounding too hard for him to care, his pulse reverberating within his ears. His hands gripped against the stone wall, arms remaining on either side of her head, boxing her in, not touching her beyond where his mouth fought against hers.

Kaylens responded in kind, her arms hanging limply at her sides, the way the non-witch's mouth moved over his own enough to send him groaning. The Gryffindor was well aware of precisely what those lips of hers could do when untethered, and yet…

They both persisted in their silent game of not touching the other one. He'd given in to her lips, but he'd make sure she was the first one to crack when it came to grabbing onto any other part.

The stark coolness of the castle's lower levels contrasted heavily with the warmth of her body pressing against his, the nearby torch crackling suddenly.

Harry's mouth roamed to her neck, Kally letting out a quiet whimper, her head falling back against the wall, exposing even more of her throat to him.

Harry took advantage, lips dropping to her pulse point, feeling the beating of her heart underneath his lips as Kaylens' quivered. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had to avoid grabbing onto her hips, his nails digging into the wall behind her to stop himself. Even after before….Merlin he still wanted her.

Somehow he figured he might never be satiated, not when it came to her.

His mouth seized upon her exposed collarbone, tongue flicking out with possessive force. He'd be damned if a dementor was the last thing to have kissed her. They were still near the kitchens, bound to be again interrupted, but Harry just didn't care.

"Do you," she was gasping now, "ever get the feeling," her chest was rising and falling in short, shallow bursts, as if she could barely keep up with the persistent need for oxygen, "half our relationship is," she made a sound as he moved to her jawline, "snogging?"

"Half?" he growled, lips grazing her earlobe. "I would have said three quarters."

She let out a soft laugh, the sudden sound of a door opening farther down the corridor sending Harry's head yanking up, gaze narrowing down the hall. The sound of footsteps could be heard, their friends, Snape and Tres obviously approaching.

"Them walking in on us," he grumbled, breathing hard, "is really getting old."

He was still leaning over her, as if he'd trapped her against the wall, Kaylens chest brushing against his with each of her needily indrawn breaths. "We should leave," she managed, "Snape's bound to still be mad."

He shot her a look that spoke volumes about how little he cared. "Good. Let him."

"And if he forces me to work in the potion's lab for the rest of the night?"

For a second Harry outright stared at her. She had to be kidding. They had a mission tomorrow. Dumbledore had ordered everyone to get rest.

Then again this was Snape. He doubted the bastard cared about whether or not Kaylens was so tired she drowned.

Abruptly he broke their silent game's rules and grabbed a hold of her hand, dragging her down the hall after him, missing being seen by those approaching by mere meters. "I'll never admit this," he told her, keeping his voice lowered, "but potions is a hell of a lot harder than I'll ever divulge to Snape."

Kaylens laughed, Harry rounding a corner and hopping onto a staircase that had just begun to move. There, that ought to ditch the Potion's Professor.

Kally's hand slipped from his, the non-witch grabbing a hold of the rail to avoid being knocked off balance as the entire stairway lurched violently. "That's kind of funny considering you're actually good at potions," she told him.

He shot her a look. "Shut," he dryly told, "your dirty mouth."

She just smirked, the stairwell slamming to a halt in its new location with jarring force. While she was still trying to keep her balance, he wasted no time in reclaiming her hand within his, hauling her with him once more.

"You know," she pointed out as they passed a gargoyle guarding the tower stairwell, "you weren't complaining about potions earlier."

"Oh yeah?" he grunted, several portraits eyeing them worriedly, mumbling poor dears, must have been the dementors that got them, to one another at the sight of the two muddy students still out in the castle. "When?"

Kaylens made such an amused sound that his feet actually slammed to a halt, just outside the Fat Lady's portrait. It took him a second, a long second, to realize what she'd meant.

She'd made a potion, taken it, not even told him she'd done so, and it'd been what had allowed them to…

He let out a growl.

Turning and tugging her against his chest, his arm snared around her back. "Fine," he conceded, "I admit, potions are good for some things."

Both of her eyebrows lifted, eyes dancing with mischief. "Only some things?"

"Yes," he grunted. "You, poisoning Snape, and interrogating Dean and random Americans."

Her lips parted in seeming exasperation, Harry merely bowing his head over hers. "Do you always," he whispered, "have to argue?"

Her nose bumped against his, smiling against him. "Yes," she said plainly.

Harry scoffed, pressing his lips to hers with a gentleness that surprised even him. Kaylens fingers curled against his chest, tightening against his mud-encrusted clothing, Harry taking his time. This…this was worth not rushing.

As quickly as they'd begun they'd stopped, Harry breathing slightly harder, gaze lidded.

He was acutely, cursedly aware that he'd had sex. And afterwards…

He'd told her to get dressed and to hurry.

Standing there, in the hall, just outside the Gryffindor common room, the realization was almost laughable. Harry felt her fingers sliding to his arm, her slightest touch sending indescribable sensations slithering across his skin. The aberrant tingling…

Her breathing was calming, his own not, every sodding little thing she did having the power to shake him. It drew him to her, again and again.

Cracking his gaze, he found her impossibly long lashes still covering her incredible irises, hiding them from him. And that…

It just would not do.

His fingers lightly found her chin, tilting it up, Harry wetting his lips as he waited for her to actually look at him. "Are you okay?" The question was raw, rough, honest. They'd managed to avoid it until now, attacks from dementors having been slightly more pressing, then they'd been around other people recuperating, and yet…

Harry needed to know. Desperately.

Swallowing, throat tight, he tensely waited. The way her eyes were fluttering open, her crystalline gaze fixing upon his…

His chest twisted.

"Yes," she murmured, her brow furrowing worriedly. "Are you?" Her hand rose, falling against the side of his neck, the sheer sensation like pinpricks of static electricity. It was like pure, undiluted magic.

Merlin he loved that sodding sensation. He'd never once gotten anything remotely similar from Cho.

"Yeah," he gruffly managed, voice rougher than he remembered. "I-we never got to talk after…"

Harry trailed off, not sure what to say. How exactly did a wizard go about saying 'that was the best and only sex I've ever had, thanks and sorry I threw your clothes at you and told you to get moving right after?'

Kalliandra's eyes were flickering over his, her lips twitching slightly. "I think I can forgive you," she granted, "given you were a little preoccupied with trying to save my life." Slowly her hand slipped to the back of his neck, her fingertips tracing a wicked path down his cervical vertebrate.

Harry's gaze about closed, a slight groan escaping him. She was trying to kill him right there in the hall. "You saved mine too," he hoarsely reminded, hand flexing against her lower back. The scent of torch oil was strong, pungent, welcome in the corridor. It was better than the stench of dementor's and their rotting breath.

"Told you," she murmured, "dementors aren't allowed to snog you. That's my job."

Despite himself Harry actually laughed, fingertips digging against her spine, tugging her a step closer, his head dipping down until his nose shunted alongside hers. "Good."

"Hmph."

Harry didn't think beyond that. In that moment, in that place, all he cared about was her. The war, Voldemort, dementors…

They could all go to hell, at least until morning.

It was a long while before they were interrupted, the sound of Ron's loud groan making it beyond clear that his two best friends had just walked up on them, catching them kissing. Again.

"You'd think," Ron muttered, "they'd invent a shock collar for this."

Hermione just shrugged, brushing right past them and stating the password to the portrait crisply. "Write your brothers, Ron. I'm sure Fred and George could come up with it."

The look on Ron's face was one of absolute delight, the Gryffindor Keeper catching sight of his best mate falling back against the wall, hauling his girlfriend with him in a snog that neither appeared to be coming up from.

"Merlin Mione," Ron grumbled, "I ever get like that with someone hex me."

The brunette shot him a strange look. "Happily."

With that the portrait slammed closed behind them, trapping Harry and Kally out in the corridor.


ECOTS


Dean leaned heavily against the railing, sending an irritated look towards Ginny Weasley. "Ginny," he tried for the thirtieth time, "go to bed."

The red headed witch shot him an icy look that would have sent him running two years ago. "As soon as you do," she said with saccharine sweetness.

The wizard that was being trained as a double agent considered the merits of arguing with her. He was being trained to look Voldemort in the eye and hopefully survive, and yet he couldn't face down a sixtee year old red head.

Somehow he figured this didn't speak volumes about his odds of living.

Then again, Voldemort might not be as terrifying as Ginny. They'd been friends since his third, when she'd taken over he and Seamus' game of exploding snaps without so much as an introduction. He'd of course known who she was, but the year prior she'd kept to herself, not particularly socializing.

Man had that changed.

Ginny, seated on the stairwell, craned her neck up, batting her brown eyes at him as if she were the most innocent girl in the world.

Dean narrowed his eyes, not fooled. He'd snogged the witch more than once. He'd also watched her snog Seamus and Michael Corner. Hell, he'd even seen her snog several others including Pavarti Patel all on dares. Ginny was anything but innocent.

It explained the draw.

He briefly wondered if he and Potter could swing her and Kally into trying that for them. Potter had an upcoming birthday didn't he?

Dean drummed his fingers on the bannister in silent plotting and proceeded to ignore her. That was typically the best route with her. When Ginny was in a mood she got what she wanted, so the best way was to just not engage.

The irritated sound she made also reminded him that being ignored tended to turn her into a vicious harpy.

"Dean Thomas, I am not some wallflower that is going to break just because I didn't get enough shut eye."

Dean winced, not baiting her. He wasn't even sure why he'd been stubbornly insisting she go to bed. It'd been months since she'd had that catatonic break down, months since anything even remotely resembling a prophecy had come out of her mouth, and yet he was still nervous that if she got over-exhausted that one or the other would happen again.

And Ginny Weasley's prophecies were downright scary.

"Ginny, your turn to stand watch is coming up. It'd be smart if you actually slept before it."

She snorted in an unladylike fashion. Had she not been so terribly hot it'd have actually made her unattractive. "Please, you and I know perfectly well that Hermione volunteered after you, followed by McGonagall. By the time my turn comes up it'll be high noon. Besides, if anyone should be sleeping it's you." Her tone turned sour. "You're the one going and risking your neck after all."

Was it his imagination or did the last part of her statement sound a bit bothered? Dean cast a look back at her, eyes narrowing into tiny slits. "You're not worried, are you?"

The Weasley's only daughter shot him an exasperated look over her knees. "Seriously, Dean?"

He widened his eyes, curious. "Well?"

"Yes! Of course I'm worried!"

Dean frowned heavily. So that's why she had decided to hover by him while he was standing on guard duty in Gryffindor tower. Everyone had decided, in all the houses, to take shifts to sound the alert in case dementors, or anything else, showed up again. "Well," Dean observed, "at least you're smart. But really Gin-gin, I'm a big boy. I'll be back in one piece and before you know it you'll be back to haranguing me for watching out for your well-being."

Dean flipped his wand in hand and shot her a cocky wink.

Ginny just scowled.

He really was under appreciated by the women in his life. Fortunately, right as he was thinking of yet another creative excuse to try to coax Ginny into passing out without him, the portrait slid open and Hermione and Ron came in.

Ginny's hands slapped against her knees. "Thank Merlin, Hermione! I thought you'd never get back."

The perfect had barely donned a questioning expression when Ginny had snared him by the back of his shirt and yanked him viciously backwards.

"Ginny what the hell!?" he hollered, tripping and smacking into a wall, nearly yanking the small witch down with him.

The red headed vixen obviously didn't care. Instead she was hauling him up the stairs towards the boy's dormitory, Dean not even sure how his feet had started moving. "Your turn for watch, Hermione! Dean needs sleep!"

Her shouted order was less a request and more a frightening, slightly threatening demand.

Hermione's lips parted in silent understanding, the witch smiling sadly.

Dean had just a second to see Ron turning around, dragging a somewhat awkward hand across his red head, the Gryffindor Keeper apparently trying to say something to the bushy haired witch.

Whatever it was, Dean missed it, given that Ginny had bodily shoved him into the sixth year boy's dormitory. It had several cots in it to accommodate the additions. On orders of McGonagall, despite her better reservations, she was going to condone cohabitation for the evening until they could ensure the castle was secure.

That meant the two remaining Gryffindor third years would be sleeping with them, as would Hermione, Ginny and Kally. There were enough cots conjured for everyone, but to his utter lack of surprise Ginny shoved him towards his bed and leapt into it.

Dean just stared at her. "You do realize," he whispered, casting a quick silencing charm around his bed's general area to avoid waking Neville and the two third years, "that your brother is going to come up here and murder me in my sleep if he sees that?" He was aware he was going to die either way – either by Ginny or Ron's hand – but he at least wanted her to be acutely aware that however he went, it was her fault.

"Yes," she said unapologetically, not keeping he voice down. He was suddenly acutely glad he'd gone with a silencing charm. "Now seriously Dean, please?" The look she was shooting him…

Dean recognized what that the odd, unreadable thing he was seeing in Ginny's gaze was.

Seamus had already died. Now he was heading off to do something obscenely dangerous with her brother, Neville, Harry and Kally in the morning, and she and Hermione were being left behind.

Ginny was scared.

Dean swallowed heavily, nodding. "Nothing," he promised, "is going to happen to me, okay? Or to anyone else."

Her brown eyes glistened, her expression set into something stony. "You don't know that, Thomas. You really don't know that."

"You're right," he admitted, "I don't. But I have the fear of you coming after me in the afterlife to kick my ass as motivation to make sure I do." With that he forced a grin, walking over to his nightstand to snag a notepad.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

He held up a finger to tell the witch to shush, flipping past a sketch of Kally to a blank page, quickly penning a note. Then, with all the air of a wizard who had decided to partake in the Muggle running with the bulls event, he tossed the notepad and quill to Ginny. "Sign at the X, if you would."

Her previously upset brown eyes had taken on an air of incredulity, Ginny snagging the note pad he typically used for sketches and reading it. Given he'd just written it, he wasn't particularly surprised at her exasperated sigh.

At least she hadn't hexed him. Instead she signed off at the X with a flourish. "I think you're giving my brother's ability to out hex you entirely too much credit," she commented, tearing off the sheet and handing it to him.

Dean took it stoically, pinning it to his bed post. A quick enlargement charm sent it big enough for anyone to read who so deigned to. "Given the number of times your brother has come back from one of Harry's misadventures still in one piece," he countered, "I think I might actually be underestimating him." He shot Ginny a look. "Goofy and bad with talking to Hermione doesn't equate to 'can't hex for crap.'"

With that Dean climbed into his own bed with Ginny, dropping onto his back.

Then the wizard silently accepted his fate, put out an arm, and tapped his shoulder. "Come on in."

Ginny hesitated only a second, then she was curled against his shoulder, her feet immediately finding and tangling with his, Dean finding the sensation strangely pleasing. Hell, it was downright nice.

He managed a sigh, feeling her fingers creeping over his chest to splay out, Dean officially the living equivalent of a stuffed animal for the younger Gryffindor. The arm he had wrapped around her back gave her a protective squeeze, his gaze closing.

Ginny squirmed, one of her legs sliding up his…

Dean groaned. The scent of her strawberry shampoo was strong. Really strong. Unfortunately it was as equally pleasing as the feel of her alongside him.

Her leg was definitely not where it should be. "Ginny," he requested, "don't take this the wrong way, but you…try not to squirm too much." Otherwise this would be a very wrong sort of night.

He cracked an eye, catching sight of her open-mouthed look. Something unreadable was flashing in her warm gaze, something shockingly similar to upset, Dean wanting to divest her of that as swiftly as possible. Ginny…he never wanted to see her looking that.

They might be at war, he more heavily involved than the Weasley girl knew, but that was no reason for her to be afraid. Fear did absolutely nothing except rob time.

Dean swallowed roughly. "What?" he said innocently, humor forced for her sake. "You're a warm female with a figure that smells nice. Surely you-"

Dean didn't expect what happened next, but it sure as Hades shut him up.

Ginny's mouth was against his, her leg suddenly sliding pointedly against him, Dean making an alarmed sound. That lasted all of a half…no quarter second. Ginny kissed like a goddess, like Aphrodite herself. He suddenly remembered exactly what his favorite part about briefly dating her for that month had been.

He considered stopping her from snogging him. Considered. He threw that idea away as quickly as soon as the kiss deepened. He was a red blooded male. Surely McGonagall even could forgive him for lacking the strength to shove such a witch off him.

Dean grabbed a firm hold of Ginny's fiery hair, snogging her back, reveling in the sudden, happy sounds she made until the need for oxygen required them to pull apart. Hell, he had to heave several breaths before he could manage to form those things called words. "You're making me," he chastised, "a liar."

The Gryffindor fire flashed in her brown eyes. "I won't tell if you won't."

"Interesting proposition. What's the escape plan though? I'm going to be on a boat, alone, with three of your brothers and father."

"You did say you could swim, didn't you?" she challenged, panting.

Dean let out a groan loud enough to send the two third years and Neville stirring in their sleep despite his silencing charm.

Ginny kissed him again, a flick of Dean's wand sending his bed curtains closing quickly around the bed to block them from view, the witch rolling on top of him to deepen the contact. As he grabbed her ass, giving her a slight spank to point out that she was truly being a naughty witch, the note attached to the bed frame fluttered.

To any Weasleys or Pseudo-Weasley (I'm talking to you Harry) that it may concern,

She commandeered my bed and demanded that I be in it. She's a bit more frightening then you lot, so out of hope that you will be more reasonable than a sixteen year old female looking for a good cuddle, I'm hoping you'll make it a quick death, as opposed to a slow and lingering one. Or perhaps, if you're feeling benevolent, or if Hermione or Kally talk reason into any of you, then you'll just overlook the lapse and understand I was in fear of my life.

Neville, I don't know which category you fall into, but if you find a shiny object to throw and distract them all I'd be much obliged. Ginny is utterly unsympathetic to my plight.

Seriously, she made me do it. I solemnly swear nothing untoward, to earn the death you are surely plotting for me, is going on.

Dean Thomas

I support this message.

Ginny Weasley