See? I knew I could get another chapter up without having to take several weeks. Don't worry, I won't let it go to my head. Nothing else to say ... Nothing clever at any rate. Enjoy ...

- Chapter Eleven -

Dueling Egos

Before the sun rose over the horizon the following morning, the news had already spread through every corner of Hogwarts's ancient grounds. The incident that had taken place the previous night, a moment Killian had previously been informed was merely a meeting, has devolved into a nightmarish scene that no student could have ever imagined possible.

The Room of Requirement was no longer the safe hideaway for a small band of rebellious students to train under Harry's tutelage. Dumbledore's Army was no longer a secret underground uprising against the influence of the Ministry of Magic and their loyal lapdogs that had undermined the spirit of everything Hogwarts had stood for over the previous thousand years. And worse than either of those two monumental blows to the already fragile moral of those who chose maintain hope, Dumbledore himself had been cast away.

Perhaps cast away was not as accurate a description as escaped into hiding. What was meant to be a meeting between the Minister, his High Inquisitor, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts became an attempt to expel Harry on the charge of attempting to create chaos and unrest within the school. Professor Dumbledore managed to sway the attention from Harry and convince the Minister the he, in fact, had been undermining the Ministry in an attempt seize control from Cornelius Fudge. As he maintained, it was Dumbledore's Army, after all, not Harry Potter's Army.

While there was absolutely no truth to this, it succeeded in relieving Harry of suspicion and protecting him from expulsion. However, as with every act of sacrifice, there was a price to pay. The price for Harry's exoneration was for Professor Dumbledore to admit himself a traitor, a criminal, a now a wanted man. When the Minister ordered the Headmaster's arrest, the office was reduced unconscious Aurors, a befuddled politician, and furious High Inquisitor left to wonder how is was they let a single elderly sorcerer slip through their fingers.

Already fractured and barely keeping the pieces in place, Hermione did all she could to reassure Harry that all was not lost. As much as she wished to believe this to be true, Hermione found that she was losing faith, a growing fear of an ominous future slowly overwhelming her consciousness. All the while, whispers of another occurrence that began to circulate through the student body only furthered Hermione's waning confidence.

As she entered the library, she immediately spotted Killian sitting at one of the many long mahogany tables that lined the rows of dusty tomes. She had been looking for him since she heard the rumor shortly after she, Harry, and Ron had an unpleasant encounter with Draco and several of his housemates.

Making her way to the table, Hermione sat directly across from Killian, tossing her bag noisily into the chair next to her in the process. He did not look up. Instead, he continued to read and jot notes on one of several pieces of parchment littered before him.

She knew he was aware of her presence; he was simply being difficult. To remedy this, she gave him a swift kick under the table. Again, he offered no reaction, flipping through his book before continuing with his notes. She kicked him again to the same effect. Refusing to give in, Hermione began to continuously strike Killian's shin, making sure to use the point of her shoe, hitting the same spot, and increasing the impact with every swing.

"Why, exactly, do you find it necessary to pulverize my leg?" he finally asked, still not looking up from his book.

Hermione leaned across the table "Because I'm angry!" she whispered harshly. "That's why!"

"Well," Killian said with a faint smirk, his eyes meeting Hermione's while his head remained bent, "I'm glad to hear that violent acts of aggression are not the way in which you demonstrate joy."

"I'm angry with you!" Hermione clarified, trying to maintain her whisper.

"Really?" Killian asked dismissively. "You've only just arrived. I hardly think I've had enough time to effectively infuriate you."

He had a smart answer for everything. He knew why she was angry. He knew why she would be. She just could not figure why, exactly, he had done it. Of all the people within Hogwarts, Killian was the last student she thought would ever be a part of something so regulated, for lack of a better term.

"When were you planning on telling me?" Hermione asked, eyeing the silver I attached to Killian's robes.

"In case it has slipped your notice, the last several hours have been nothing less than chaotic. I assumed you'd find out soon enough and come bounding by with some form of incessant interrogation," he answered rather coldly. "And you haven't disappointed, have you?"

Hermione was completely caught off guard by his response. She huffed in her chair for a moment, unsure as to whether she should continue the conversation—or lack, thereof—or storm off, leaving Killian to himself.

"You don't get to be upset!" Hermione snapped back, deciding that she was not through just yet.

"I'm not upset, I'm studying," Killian corrected, his eyes remaining locked on his book. Although at this point, Hermione was certain he was not actually reading.

She then noticed that Killian's right hand was concealed up to the base of his fingers within the sleeve of his robe. This, in and of itself, did not seem odd. He had been making a practice of wearing his hands within him sleeves throughout the year. Hermione had even teased him of it from time to time, suggesting it was a sign of depression. At least according to some Muggle beliefs within the psychological field.

This time it was different, however. It appeared as if he was making a conscious effort to keep his hand within the sleeve, to the point of holding the end of it between his thumb and palm to ensure that it did not slide up. A thought unraveled within her mind. She should have seen it long ago. She was too distracted, to desperate to use her time with Killian as an escape. And Killian was far too skilled at hiding.

"Why have you been wearing your hands in you sleeves?" she asked, unsuccessfully trying to remove some of the temper from her tone.

"Come again?" he asked.

He did not even flinch, his eyes remaining fixed upon his book. No reaction to her question, no indication that there was anything out of place. This, more than anything, indicated to Hermione that she was not mistaken. Not this time.

"What's wrong with your hand, Killian?" she pressed.

"I'm sure that I don't know what you're talking abou—"

"Incarcerous wrist!" Hermione cast with a quick twist of her wand.

Before Killian could react, a series of ropes sprung from the mahogany table top, braiding themselves around his wrist and pinning it down. Hermione quickly pulled his sleeve up, revealing a series of blood red characters carved into the back of his hand.

The Inquisitorial Squad is an honor and a privilege.

Hermione immediately released Killian and sat back in her chair, the anger in her face falling away and being replaced with shamed concern. She had already seen such writing carved into Harry's hand, and was disgusted by the barbaric practice. Apparently, Professor Umbridge had no qualms about using this technique whenever it suited her needs.

"Are we happy, now?" Killian asked as he concealed his hand within his sleeve, his eyes distant and cold, a look that Hermione had never seen directed towards her.

"How long has she been making you write that?" she asked, noting that the crimson scars were far deeper than those that Harry had shown her.

"Does it matter?"

"I don't understand," Hermione went on. "There are plenty of students ... well, Slytherins at any rate, who were willing to sign up. Why would she do this to you?"

"Apparently, I've developed a reputation," Killian answered, the continuing coldness of his voice stinging Hermione with every word he spoke. "I was informed several months ago I would make an excellent addition to her little band of brutes, and … let's just say that Professor Umbridge does not accept refusals."

"Months?" Hermione reasoned. "The Inquisitorial Squad was just put in place this morning."

"Do you honestly believe this has not been the Ministry's plan from the beginning?" Killian asked, no longer feigning reading, his eyes down on the polished wood of the table.

"You need to report this," Hermione pleaded as she had with Harry. "You can't let her get away with—"

"What I need to do is study. So, if you don't mind …"

Hermione sat there for a moment, starring at Killian who refused to make any amount of eye contact. Don't you dare cry, she thought. Regardless, she could feel her eyes begin to swell. Others had talked down to her before, but their words never cut as deeply as Killian's just had. Salvaging her pride, she grabbed her bag and swept out of the library.

Why are they so ridiculously stubborn? she thought, referring to both Harry's and Killian's refusal to report Umbridge to anyone with the ability to make a difference. Although it no longer appeared there even was such a person. Still, how could they just let her get away with it? She was arcane, and her practices were intolerable—bordering on illegal—even with the backing of the Ministry.

Hermione left the castle and headed across the covered bridge leading to the open fields near Hargid's hut. Cursing herself for failing to keep her emotions in check, a thin stream of tears finally burst from her eyes. At least there was no one around to see her.

"Wait!" Killian's voice echoed through the hollows of the covered bridge behind her.

She stopped in place, glancing to the rafters that lined to roof. He had come after her. Oddly, this caused another series of tears to well in her eyes. She wanted him to come after her, hoped that he would. Now, as it became a reality, she had only moments to get herself collected. She would not allow him to see how he had hurt her.

"Hermione," Killian said, finally catching up.

She refused to turn around. If he wanted to look at her, he was simply going to have to walk around her.

"Please," Killian said, his voice humbled. "I … I'm," he stammered uncomfortably.

Killian, as she had wanted, walked around and stood in front of Hermione. She looked up at him, her eyes remarkably clear for someone who had been crying only moments before.

"I didn't mean …" he began, and then lost his words. "I shouldn't have …" he began again with the same result. "I was frustrated …" he said at last. "It wasn't you. I'm …" he stammered again. "Please forgive me."

"You're apologizing?" Hermione asked, slightly amused at Killian's humility, but remaining stone-faced. "Isn't that a sign of weakness?"

"I …" Killian began once more as if he had something to say, but could not put it to words. "Not always," he finally conceded with a sigh, biting his lip. "Not with us."

"That seemed rather painful for you," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"More painful than the quill," Killian answered through gritted teeth.

Fred and George suddenly came up alongside Killian in a manner much more friendly than Hermione would have anticipated. Fred slung his arm over Killian's shoulder, looking about cautiously.

"Are we set, then, Finn?" he asked with a guarded tone. "Hey, Hermione," he added with a nod.

"Absolutely," Killian assured. "Tomorrow. Nightfall. At the boat house."

"And you're sure it'll be clear?" Fred went on.

"Perfectly clear," Killian assured.

"You're the best, mate."

"First rate," George concurred as the twins headed back over the bridge towards the castle.

Hermione was perplexed. Killian? Fred and George? Mate? This seemed a bit surreal. Had she really just witnessed that?

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes has taken a bit of a hit since Professor Umbridge passed the Educational Decree banning the sale and possession of their products," Killian explained. "They need a safe harbor to peddle their wares."

"And you're helping with that?" Hermione asked, smiling and shaking her head.

"Well, they seemed to realize the benefits of having an ally within this newly appointed and Ministry supported Inquisitorial Squad," Killian answered with his familiar grin. "I'm surprised there haven't been others who have realized the potential benefits," he went on.

Hermione thought about responding to Killian's subtle jab, but decided it better to simply turn with a huff and walk away in theatrical jest. She knew he would follow.

With that, the two of them continued down the path, crossing just beyond the border of the woods. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from Hermione's chest. While many of their conversations involved arguing to one degree or another, there had never been any spite in their tongues. It was certainly a feeling that she did not want to revisit.

"You're still a jerk," she said, crossing between the trees.

"I'm quite aware. You remind me regularly."

Hermione bumped Killian with her shoulder as they walked along, nearly causing him to trip over the path.

"You've heard D. A. is gone, I image," she said cautiously.

"Yes," Killian said. "I was sorry to hear of it. One of many things I was sorry to hear since last evening."

"You never even had an opportunity to join us," Hermione teased, albeit not with much feeling. "I know I was wearing you down."

"Remind me," Killian pondered aloud, "how many Slytherins had signed on to your merry rebellion?"

"It would have been different with you, and you know it," Hermione pointed out.

"Would it?"

Hermione did not answer, instead resorting to another shove with her shoulder.

"Regardless—" Killian laughed as he regained his balance once again "—I think I have had enough problems within my House without having had rumors of my joining an insurrection floating about the school. It was my understanding Harry was doing a fantastic job though," he added.

"He was," Hermione agreed. "He's a great teacher."

"I hear you've made some impressive strides as well," Killian went on.

"Is that right?" Hermione asked with a grin. "Were you checking up on my progress, then?"

"Just seeing if you were becoming a threat, is all," Killian teased.

"I'd be more than willing to give you a demonstration."

Killian offered a mock bow. "I would be both honored and intrigued."

"All right," Hermione agreed. "Tonight. After dinner."

"Location?" Killian asked.

"Here," Hermione answered, gesturing about the clearing in the trees.

"Done," Killian agreed, offering his hand to consummate the deal.

Hermione shook his hand and laughed at how silly their conversation had become. But, alas, her next class was coming up. After a brief exchange of words, she left the woods and headed back to the castle, with Killian waiting a safe amount of time to ensure that no one would be able to put them together.

. . .

That night, at dinner, Hermione was noticeably distracted as she hurried through her meal. Too noticeable for even Ron to miss. He glanced at her several times during the meal with a look of warped perplexion.

Finishing off her glass of pumpkin juice, Hermione saw that Killian had already left the Slytherin table. She pushed her glass and plate aside and stood.

"You're not even 'aving dessert?" Ron asked, his cheek stuffed like a chipmunk.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione retorted, shaking her head. "Do you ever stop eating?"

"I get 'ungry," Ron answered defensively. "Where're you off to, anyway?"

"To study," she lied as she began to walk away from the table.

"Yeah, I bet," Ron huffed as he took a rather oversized bite from a piece of Turkish Delight.

Hermione stopped and turned back on Ron. "And what is that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," Ron answered with a scowl. "Been studying a lot lately, is all."

"Of course I've been studying a lot!" Hermione came back. "In case it's slipped your mind, regardless of what is happening, we still have our OWLs, and I, for one, am not planning on making a fool of myself simply because I was ill-prepared!"

Ron sat in his chair, his eyes wide and glazed over as he chewed the remainder of his cheek's stores. Hermione stormed out of the Great Hall, feeling a tinge of guilt for having lied to Ron. She justified it, however, by convincing herself that maybe her words would convince him to pick up his books and actually study.

Cautiously, she made her way out of the castle and over the covered bridge. Hogwarts' grounds were particularly quiet that night. The fragrances of the spring emanated from the flowers and trees, the only sounds being that of the soft breeze and distant chips and calls of the nocturnal creatures awakening from their long day of slumber.

She made her way to the clearing in the woods where she and Killian had agreed to meet and found it empty. A light mist was rolling in from the further reaches of the forest, causing Hermione to second guess her thoughts about the location of their after-hours excursion. As she glanced about the clearing, a familiar shadow emerged from behind one of the ancient trees.

"Running a bit late, aren't we?" Killian said, twirling his wand in his hand. "It's highly improper to keep a worthy adversary waiting."

"Well, I shall remember that when I find a worthy adversary," Hermione mocked as she drew her wand.

"I assume the standard dueling protocols are in effect?" Killian removed his robes and took his place several paces from Hermione, who nodded in agreement.

"Any restrictions on spell casting?" Hermione asked, imitating Killian's arrogant tone as she removed her robes and slung them over the low branch of a tree.

"Surprise me," Killian responded with a bow.

Hermione set herself up, wand at the ready, contemplating her first attack. In the Room of Requirement, the duels had been a bit different. The students were practicing specific spells, so there was very little guessing as to what was about to be thrown. This, on the other hand, was going to be less predictable.

"Stupefy!"

Sparks shot forth from the end of Hermione's wand, streaking towards her opponent from the house of silver and green. Killian countered the jinx, and it rebounded off a nearby tree before dissipating into the night air.

"Very clever," he complimented. "I had anticipated a simple disarming spell. Professor Potter has taught you well. What else do you have?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Killian. The air soon erupted with sparks and flashes of light as they unloaded a barrage of jinxes and counter-jinxes at one another. Dashing from side to side and ducking behind trees and bushes, the two cast relentlessly.

After several frenzied minutes, they took a moment to rest, sitting on the stump of a fallen tree, breathless.

"Not bad," Killian said, rubbing his shoulder, upon which he had tumbled awkwardly in an attempt to evade a Boils Jinx.

"You weren't even trying," Hermione chastised.

"Clearly, you're insane," Killian protested.

"All your casts were deflection and protection spells," Hermione pointed out. "You made no attempts to attack me."

"Obviously," Killian agreed. "I had no intention of hurting you."

"Well, my intention was to duel!" Hermione slapped Killian on the shoulder. "Not to take target practice against your defensive spells!"

"Are you saying," Killian began, as if contemplating Hermione's words, "that you want me to hurt you?"

"I want you to challenge me!" Hermione answered, exasperated. "Toying with me hardly benefits either of us!"

"Fair enough," Killian conceded as he got up from the stump and found his mark in the clearing.

Hermione sat on the stump for a moment, watching him as he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his sliver and green tie. He proceeded to unbutton the sleeve of his wand arm, rolling it up as he twirled his wand between his fingers. He then gestured to Hermione to take her place in the dueling line.

She got up and set herself across from Killian, a slight tremor of nerves starting to rise within her. Perhaps she should have left well enough alone. Then again, he would not really hurt her, would he? She had, more or less, asked him to try. Quite literally asked him to try, in all actuality.

She raised her wand to the ready, eyeing Killian. His expression had become dark and focused. Hermione imagined that his is what Pucey must have seen as he stood across from Killian during their altercation in the autumn. She wondered if Pucey had the same nervous reaction that she was experiencing as she stared into those cold eyes.

"On your move," Killian offered.

Hermione took a deep breath. He won't hurt me, she assured herself. He won't. She raised her wand to cast.

"Expelliarmus!" Killian shouted with a twist of his wand before Hermione uttered her jinx, thus expelling her wand from her grasp.

"Accio wand!" Killian continued.

Hermione's wand arced towards Killian, who caught it out of the air. He then turned back on Hermione, who stood defenseless.

"Rictusempra!" he shouted as a jet of silver light streaked from his wand, hitting Hermione squarely in the chest.

She paused for a moment, shocked. In a matter of seconds, it felt as though a thousand fingers were tickling her ribs and stomach. She tried to fight it off, but quickly fell to the ground clutching her stomach and rolling about, shouting for Killian to call off his jinx, which he eventually did with a casual flick of his wand.

"Feel better now?" he asked, grinning broadly.

"A tickling jinx?" Hermione asked with frustration, getting up from the cold forest floor. "You threw a tickling jinx?"

"I happen to enjoy that one," Killian explained. "It has the needed effect, and it's entertaining to watch."

"Give me my wand!" Hermione huffed as she stormed towards Killian, brushing the leaves from her skirt and sweater.

Killian backed up and held Hermione's wand over his head, well out of her reach.

"Be nice," he warned as she reached up in vain.

"Give it to me!" Hermione persisted, hitting Killian on the chest and pulling at his arm.

"You see ..." he teased, his grin infuriating Hermione, "... now you're getting violent. Not very lady-like."

Hermione continued to stretch for her wand that Killian held just out of her reach. She put her hand on his shoulder to gain leverage, her body pressing firmly against his.

"Miss Granger," Killian said, mocking an official tone, "you are in violation of Educational Decree number 31."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at Killian, only to realize that she was mere inches from his face. She immediately stopped reaching for her wand, her other hand increasing its grip on his shoulder.

"Which one is that?" she asked, her eyes locked with his.

"Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other," Killian recited.

"Is that right?" Hermione asked, her pulse beginning to accelerate.

"I'm afraid so."

"And what are you going to do?" she pressed on. "Take points from my House?"

"I have the authority," Killian pointed out, his infuriating grin having an entirely different effect on her.

"Yes, you do," she said as Killian's free hand slipped down to her waist while the hand that held her wand slowly lowered to hers, The Inquisitorial Squad is an honor and a privilege still brazen and red.

Their contact was suddenly interrupted as an arrow hissed past Killian's ear and embedded itself into the tree just behind his head.

"Bloody hell!" Killian exclaimed, ducking as his eyes danced about searching for the source of the shot.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, spinning around and scanning the tree line.

Within seconds, the ground began to rumble as a herd of a dozen or more centaurs swarmed the clearing and encircled the students. Killian quickly slipped Hermione her wand as he turned and pressed his back to hers.

"Keep your back to mine!" he said, holding her hip with his free hand while drawing his wand to the ready. "They'll try to separate us!"

"What are they doing here?" Hermione asked, holding her wand defensively as the beasts pounded the ground around them.

"A very good question," Killian mocked. "Why don't you ask them?"

One of the centaurs charged at them, raising his front hoofs and kicking at the air. Killian immediately cast a shield charm as Hermione pelted the creature with a blinding flash of light before it retreated back to the herd.

Bane, a particularly large and menacing centaur, raised his arm, and the herd fell into line. He approached the young students, who still held their wands at the ready.

"You trespass on our land!" The mighty centaur growled.

"Trespass?" Hermione asked. "We're on Hogwarts' grounds!"

"Land taken from us and now retaken," Bane declared. "And if your Ministry continues to seize what does not belong to them …" he cut himself off. He did not really have to finish. His point was made quite well. "So, I say again, you trespass on our land! Give me reason not to strike you down!" He drew his bow and put a bead on Killian.

"Well," Killian began contemplatively, "we were actually engaged in a duel prior to your spectacular entrance. It's highly likely that we would have killed one another on our own. So, striking us down now seems a bit over the top."

"A duel?" Bane questioned, his fiery eyes narrowing on the young Slytherin.

"Um … yes," Hermione stammered, trying to make her words sound sincere. "We were … I was ... going to kill him."

Bane seemed to contemplate this explanation. Lowering his bow, his eyes bounced between Hermione and Killian as they stood there.

"Show me," he grunted, gesturing for them to continue.

"Actually ... as it turns out … " Killian countered, but then found himself at a loss for words.

"We've come to terms with our differences," Hermione piped in. "Compromises and all of that."

"We were on our way back to the castle just as you arrived," Killian continued, following Hermione's lead.

"With your permission, of course," Hermione requested humbly.

She knew very well how intensely proud and territorial centaurs could be. She knew that it was pertinent to show humility and respect if they were to escape without hoof prints embedded on their chests. As they waited for Bane's response, it appeared that Hermione's approach was working. If nothing else, he had not driven an arrow through either of them to this point.

"Leave!" Bane commanded after what seemed like an eternity of silence, gesturing to the open fields of Hogwarts beyond the edge of the woods.

Killian grabbed his and Hermione's robes and they cautiously made their way through the herd, who separated just enough to clear a slight path.

"These woods belong to us!" Bane added, his baritone voice echoing through the forest. "Mark and remember!"

Once they cleared the herd, Killian and Hermione raced out of the woods, not stopping until they were several yards into the surrounding fields of Hogwarts. Breathless, Killian sat and rolled onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"They're obviously upset," Hermione answered, laying down on the grass next to him and joining in his stargazing. "Hogwarts isn't the only area the Ministry is restricting."

"That's not what I was talking about," Killian clarified. "You were going to kill me? Not likely."

"Oh, yes," Hermione countered. "And I suppose you were going to tickle me to death, were you?"

"I hadn't decided." Killian grinned, tossing Hermione's robes over her face as he rolled to his feet.

Hermione sprang up and threw her robes at Killian, who caught and tossed them back.

"You're impossible!" She laughed, slapping at him as they walked along the path back towards the covered bridge.

As they got closer to Hogwarts, they had to part ways, still fearful of becoming part of the incessant gossip that poured through the halls like water through a sieve. Now, more than ever, discretion was of upmost importance.

Hermione entered first, as had always been the routine. She took several deep breaths, trying to gather herself so as not to look conspicuous to any fellow Gryffindors. She gave one last glance over her shoulder towards Killian, who was waiting in the shadows of the courtyard. An unconscious smile broke across her face. She knew he would not hurt her.