Note: I had no idea which order to do these chapters in because it could go any way. I finally decided on trying this out. Did you miss Hogwarts? I did too… This is mostly a Slytherin-centric (at least we're on the Harry Potter side of things) chapter with the exception of the beginning and the end. It is also a bit shorter than the previous chapters! On a second note, I feel guilty for complaining so much last chapter. I really, really, really appreciate all of you who read… most of you have stuck with me from the beginning and I can't thank you enough. For those of you who just started reading… I hope you enjoy!

Other Note: I'm sorry this took so freaking long for me to update! Work has been busy and my friends and I just threw our annual Christmas party… at my building. So I worked quite diligently this past week pulling it together and organizing it. Though exhausted now, I feel relieved it's finally over! I would feel great if I could get another chapter written and edited before Christmas, but if I can get it before we leave for New Year's, I'd be thrilled. All chapter notes aside from these as well as reviewer comments are in my profile. Read on!

Chapter Summary: Faith finds herself surprisingly in place in Slytherin house despite her protests; Draco discovers that someone knew about the attack on the Ministry before it began; Faith is given a letter from her classmate, Juliet Rosier, that explains the only reason why she's still alive; Wesley returns to Hogwarts with a message for Faith and she finally finds out the truth about her sister Slayer…

Chapter 13

The Letter

x-o-o-x

"Friendship is a plant of slow growth and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation." – George Washington

Sixteen Years Ago

The quill scratched on the old parchment as its bearer wrote quickly, his eyes glancing up every few seconds to the window. Rain lashed at the old window, blurring the light right outside his door. He had so much he wanted to put into writing, so much he wanted to say. But he couldn't put it all in there. It would be of little comfort to his wife and their daughter. But he still had to try.

He dipped his quill in ink and paused, listening for the Aurors. He knew they would come at him at any moment. But he had to let the others know where the girl was, he had to. Lord Voldemort may have fallen, but his will would not forever be lost. Not while the youngest Black still lived…

There was a sudden splash outside and he froze, his quill halfway to the parchment. He strained to hear what was happening but found only his thundering heartbeat. Swallowing hard, he decided against including any more and signed the note. Once he tucked it inside the parchment, he lifted a burning bit of wax and pressed it into a seal using his own family seal. To authenticate it, he removed a bandage from his hand. Using his letter opener, he split the cut open further and allowed a few drops of blood to scatter on the front of the envelope.

There were voices now. He had to hurry; this letter needed to get out through the proper channels so the girl could be located.

He had spent days in this hovel, attempting to sort out what intelligence information there was. So few of his friends remained around after the fall of Voldemort. Fewer still could be trusted: they could be working for the Ministry in order to bring him down. There was one other who knew of his assignment and he knew that the other was dead.

He took his own letter for his wife. He felt for Martha, he truly did. But things were different now. Things were desperate. He signed on for life as a Death Eater and he knew that those remaining in wait would kill him if he turned his back now. Regulus Black had paid such a price.

He heard voices now. Tying the end of his bandage, he fumbled with his supplies, making a sweeping motion to shove them into a drawer. Once the drawer was full, he moved to the fire and threw them in.

It was then he heard the first knock on his door. Evan Rosier glanced up, holding his breath. His heartbeat pounded in his chest and he swayed dizzily on the spot. A moment later, he set the drawer down and pulled the letter opener from his pocket. Holding it in his injured hand, he felt for his wand and moved to the door.

The door burst open with such force it nearly took off Evan's head. He found himself facing the same set of Aurors who had been tailing him since the night the Potters died. "YOU!" the Auror screamed, immediately brandishing his wand. Evan was faster, easily toppling the Auror down with a few, well-placed spells. The second Auror went down nearly as easily. Feeling more confident that he could manage to escape to complete his task, Evan turned to the third and froze.

Mad-Eye Moody.

This man was responsible for either killing or imprisoning so many of Evan's friends. In that moment, the hatred bubbled up inside of him.

"Give it up, Evan," Mad-Eye snarled. "It's over."

"No," Evan said, shaking his head as the rain beat down on them. "It is never over."

"You can't win," Mad-Eye said, his narrow gash of a mouth twisting in an eerie form of a sneer. "Others are coming."

Already Evan could hear the soft 'pop' of others Apparating to the scene. As his own family didn't know where he was, let alone his compatriots, Evan knew he was very alone. Knowing, realizing that his death was upon him, Evan steadied himself, grasped the letter opener and ran toward the elder Auror.

Even as the other Aurors arrived, Mad-Eye was on his back with the younger, desperate man atop him. When Evan was flung aside with a curse from another wand, the younger man smiled triumphantly at the bloody mess that remained of the Auror's face, the bloodied letter opener still in his hand.

"It ends here, Rosier!"

"No," Evan shouted, facing five Aurors with a satisfied smile. "Even if you kill me now, that won't protect the child from tomorrow."

It was just enough to let the Aurors believe that the Death Eater spoke of Harry Potter, though this particular Death Eater wasn't speaking of the Potter infant at all. His mind was on another younger girl his daughter's age, one with a great destiny ahead of her. He smiled at the thought of his letter, tucked safely inside. Hopefully someone on the inside of the Ministry loyal to their cause would find the letter and find the girl. But until that time came, he was ready to accept defeat. He had begun the process.

There was a single flash of green light. Evan Rosier died with a smile on his face. He left behind his wife and daughter. Though his end was fast, little did he know his death would serve no greater impact than the letter hand-delivered to his wife and abandoned on top of her mantelpiece for the next decade and a half.

x-o-x

SlytherinHouse – Present Day

Faith moved through the dungeons, her eyes on a door at the end of the hall. When she pushed it open, she was surprised to see it was vacant. Normally at this time of the morning her classmates would be hurrying to get ready. But it seemed they were either too afraid or too disgusted to face her. This didn't really matter to her. She was just here for some stupid reason like protection or whatever. In fact, she was happy to have the girl's bathroom to herself. It gave her more time to prepare to dive under a stream of normally cold water.

After a rather cool shower, Faith dressed quickly, shoving her damp locks from her face as she hopped around the bathroom, tugging on her boots. Her Hogwarts uniform didn't serve her as well as it served others, obviously. She added her own touches in a way only she could. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she felt she had come straight out of Cruel Intentions. Moments later, though, she could unbutton the top two and bottom two buttons, loosen her tie, toss her hair, roll her skirt up a mere inch or two… anything to make her feel normal.

"You're not supposed to do that."

Faith hid a smirk as she turned to face one of her new roommates. The girl was small-boned and brassy with dark hair and a cold expression with an oddly squashed face and an attitude that not even Cordelia could outdo. "I'm just trying to feel normal, yo," she said, placing her hand on her chest and enjoying the sudden sway of the looser material. "If you want to look like you're on your way to the nunnery, that's your choice."

"They'll throw you out for this," the girl said in her annoying tone, tapping her long, red nails against her hips.

"I really don't think so," Faith said sweetly, flashing the girl her brightest smile. "I may not have a name like a constellation or sound as fruity as a flower, but I can still hold my own weight."

"Because you're a Black?" the girl asked, arching one fine eyebrow and smirking. "Not even Snape will accept that sort of attitude."

"No?" Faith asked, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder and giving herself one last triumphant glance in her mirror. "Watch me."

It was bad enough that Harry had to see her each day. The fact she was in a Slytherin uniform was torture. Dumbledore wouldn't explain anything, saying the story was Faith's to tell when she was ready to tell it. Instead he walked the same hallways, went to the same classes, ate in the same dining hall… all for the name of something.

At first, Faith wasn't really trying to fit in. She walked alone, ate alone, sat in class alone and didn't really talk to anyone – save Malfoy. Harry found this somewhat disturbing until he realized the common thread they shared was blood. Soon the other Slytherins seemed to flock to her, rather floored by her brassy style. Harry could hardly resist a smile when he saw Faith walking to class with that pout and those smoldering eyes. It was almost amusing watching the Slytherin girls flock.

As far as he knew, the only class he had with her was Defense Against the Dark Arts. In most of those classes, she would hold her tongue, file her nails, shine her boots or do whatever she wanted. Harry had a sneaky suspicion that her Head of House must have said something to her because she soon started bringing a book to class and was soon volunteering answers to questions. She kept her Marked arm hidden underneath her sleeve and offered no explanations as to her powers when asked by curious students from other houses. Slytherins said nothing as expected – they seemed to know that she was well within her right to be in their house as long as she carried the Dark Mark.

Ron never said anything to her but whenever their eyes locked he would turn oddly red and start spluttering. Hermione rarely spoke at all anymore, even in class. Her days of being an insufferable know-it-all and letting others see that side of her were long past. She studied alone under the pretense that her N.E.W.T. exams warranted that much concentration. Ron kept saying that Harry was to blame for Hermione detaching herself from reality. Maybe he was… but it was his choice to protect her. He couldn't love her the way she wanted him to.

Not when he was very much enamored with someone else.

It was hard to be in the same room with her and not want to feel her eyes on him. He longed to speak with her, to learn of her intentions but so far she had said nothing. That had been well over a month ago. Instead she walked with her unbuttoned blouse, her tousled hair and her infamous walk, leaving behind a trail of stares and students shaking their heads at the obscenity of it all. Had Harry not completely despised all things Slytherin, he would have respected that about her. But he honestly didn't know what she was trying to pull.

"Still no news on your sister, mate?" Ron asked one evening as he and Hermione moved into the Great Hall for dinner. Hermione was carrying a stack of books and wouldn't meet Harry's eyes as she sat down on the other side of Ron.

"None," Harry said sadly, staring morosely at his plate.

"You'll hear something soon," Ron said in a reassuring voice as he started piling his plate high with dinner. "Right, Hermione?"

"Yes," she said vacantly, staring intently at her book. "We'll hear about her soon."

"After all, Percy left a few weeks ago," Ron said, grabbing his fork with gusto and shrugging. "According to Mum, he said he was going to rescue her."

"I hope they found her," Harry said softly.

"They will," Ron replied.

Harry shrugged and continued eating, his mind wandering. When it wasn't on Faith, his classes, the looming N.E.W.T.-level exams and his upcoming battle with Voldemort, it was on Buffy. His sister had been missing for months now. What little news he had learned was that Buffy had been shot and poisoned and hovered near death. It was also rumored that there was a traitor in her vampire hunting group that shot her.

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps approach of Professor McGonagall until she reached his part of the table. "Potter," she said in a low, urgent voice.

Harry dropped his spoon and turned to face his own Head of House. "Yes, Professor?"

"Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office immediately," she said, twisting her hands. Her anxiety was such that Ron immediately set his fork down and Hermione glanced up from her book. "There's been another attack…"

x-o-x

Though the snow was falling gently inside, the dungeons where the Potions classroom was felt warm with its roaring fire and the glass of firewhiskey sitting at his side. Professor Snape idly ran his thumb around the rim of the glass, deep in thought as he read through the letters received that morning from his old friends. A moment later he paused to sip from his drink.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Ah, yes, Draco, come in," Snape said, getting to his feet as the younger boy walked in. Despite the fact he lacked certain maturity, Draco had aged gracefully these past seven years. "I wanted to discuss your tutorials with Ms. Black."

Draco snorted under his breath and scowled. "You might want to sit down, sir, as we'll be here all night."

Snape offered him a seat before taking his own, reaching for another glass. "Fancy a drink?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape poured him a whiskey and handed it over to his student. "Now…"

Draco took a small sip of firewhiskey and rolled his eyes. "Faith Black, sir, has been nothing but a pain in my arse since she first arrived here last month."

"Yes, well, we had little choice when she came to us," Snape replied dryly, swirling his drink around in his glass. "But I asked you about your tutoring Ms. Black. I didn't ask for your personal opinion."

"Of course, sir," Draco replied heavily. "The truth is, she has no feel for magic. Plainly, she's a squib. She has absolutely no skills with or without a wand. She may be Delita Black, but her skills are sorely lacking."

"I see…" Snape said in his softest voice.

"I can't help but compare her to Buffy, sir," Draco said, a bittersweet, fond look on his face. "Buffy was so eager and willing to learn. She looked forward to our tutoring sessions and she actually put forth an effort to learning what she needed to. Faith doesn't exactly want to learn and considers this school a waste of her time."

"Hmm…"

Draco barely noticed the look on his Head of House's face as he continued on. "But the truth is, sir, she's family. I… I don't have much of a family."

Snape seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and fixed a stern look upon Draco. "Is that any way to speak about your father, boy?" he asked in a calm voice, though the corners of his lips twitched maliciously.

"My… my father?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yes, Lucius… we've been friends for quite some time," Snape said coolly, his eyes fixed on the panic-stricken eyes of the younger Malfoy. "Don't look so shocked, Draco. Your father has kept me well-informed of the comings and goings of certain members of the secret club." His eyes widened and his smirk grew. "It was how I knew about the attack on the park tonight."

Draco felt stunned, as though he was suddenly feeling the affects of a liter of whiskey. "What?" he asked.

"Never fear, Draco, I knew he wouldn't have the smarts to tell his own son. He knows that you've never sided with the Mudbloods and Muggles before…"

"How is this…?" Draco was feeling dizzy now. A hand moved to hold his head as he swayed visibly in his chair. "Bloody hell…"

"I would think very carefully about where my allegiances lay, Draco," Snape said, setting down his glass with a thud. He was no longer smirking. His eyes were cold and distant. Draco suddenly felt afraid. "It seems your cousin has already chosen her side."

This struck Draco as strange; so much so that he burst into fits of laughter. "Are you kidding me?" he wheezed, holding his side. "Do you realize what there is between her and Potter?"

A shadow seemed to pass Snape's face as he met Draco's gaze directly. "I don't think that anything between them could be a threat," he said coyly, draining the glass.

"Really?" Draco asked sarcastically. "Because it seems to me that—"

"She is a Death Eater," Snape replied, stopping Draco cold. "He's the hero. No matter what generation we live in, something like that just isn't possible. In the end, she'll kill him or he will be forced to kill her."

"Doesn't exactly sound like a happy ending," Draco murmured. Despite the fact Potter was his archenemy, he still pitied his cousin. He knew she was keeping her distance from Potter, but it would only hold for so long. He knew that she had feelings for him. She all but admitted it the same night that he let her into the Slytherin common room.

"But they're young and kids tend to do foolish things when they're young," Snape said drolly, his smirk returning as he snatched what remained of his bottle of firewhiskey.

"Does that really justify the murder of innocent children?" Draco asked softly. He had heard about the attack from dinner that night. It sickened him to know that his father had been partially responsible for such an attack. But something else was bothering him, too. If his father was still in contact with Professor Snape, had he known about the attack on the Ministry of Magic before it happened?

"This is the world, Draco," Snape said, pouring the rest of his whiskey into his glass and lifting it as a salute. "Sometimes bad things happen to good people."

"Like those people at the Ministry?" Draco dared to ask. "What about them?"

Snape's eyes darkened as he stared out at the snow swirling past his window. "Sometimes we just have to take it."

"But you knew…" Draco worked hard to keep the accusatory note out of his voice, even as Snape sipped at his drink. "You knew about the attack on the Ministry and you said nothing!"

Snape didn't answer him. He just kept sipping his drink, avoiding his gaze.

"I can't do this anymore," Draco said, his head buried in his hands. "I can't sit around and watch people die just because my father wants them to. I can't live with the price of that blood. The moment the Aurors find him, he's a dead man."

Professor Snape drained his drink and set his glass on his desk.

"I can't believe you didn't go to Dumbledore. I can't believe you knew and you didn't tell anyone," Draco moaned.

Snape stood up, his palms pressing flat onto his desk. "Leave me."

Draco swallowed hard and stood up, meeting his Professor's gaze bravely. With a small nod, Draco left the Potions classroom.

A moment later, Snape flung his hand across his desk, sending his drink glass shattering into the wall.

x-o-x

Even as the clock chimed midnight, Faith lay on her back, staring at the shadows moving the entire length of their room. She twirled her dagger in her hands, longing to be anywhere but here. Even outside patrolling the Forest would be more fun than lounging around with her stupid roommates. Even though they seemed to hang around her more than what she found tolerable, they were sort of nice to have around. Girls would always be girls in her opinion.

It was times like these that almost made her want to do her homework.

A sudden shadow fell across her bed curtains. Slipping the dagger under her blankets, she turned to the figure parting the curtains.

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah," Faith said, sitting up a bit.

"I've been working up the courage to come over here all night. I haven't seen you in the Common Room at all."

"That's because your so-called roomies stare at me like I'm some kind of god," Faith murmured. "I don't belong here."

"You… you do," the girl said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Glancing at the other girls who were all sleeping, she turned back to Faith. "They admire you. They're afraid of you. And they probably talk about you behind your back."

"Makes me feel better," Faith said edgily, dropping dramatically onto her pillows. "Did you come here for a reason…"

"Juliet. My name is Juliet. I know we met when you first got here, but I know you don't remember my name."

Faith scoffed and crossed her legs, lacing her fingers behind her head. "Sure didn't."

"Last year, when I was home for summer holidays, I told my mum about you. And she remembered something. Then she gave me this." She pulled a letter out of her bag and set it on the bed in between them. "It was written by my father before he died."

"Your father…"

"He was one of them… a Death Eater." She spoke the word with such contempt Faith winced. "Mum doesn't talk about him much. She remarried when I was six. She tells me to call him father, but I wouldn't be in Slytherin if he wasn't my father. She's kept this letter for so long that she almost forgot what it was. But it's here now. And it belongs to you." She set the envelope on the bed between them.

Faith's hand inched towards the envelope before freezing. "Have you read it?"

"My mum did… once. She said that this letter is yours. It was written… for you. To you. My father wrote it to you."

"Thanks," Faith said, reaching for the letter. It was then she noticed the girl. She was the one in the entire room Faith could tolerate and maybe that's because she never said more than two words to Faith before. But now that she put her mind to it, she remembered the girl. Juliet Rosier.

"I'll leave you be," Juliet said, brushing her dark hair off her forehead as she stood up. "Have a good night, Faith."

"Yeah," Faith echoed as her bed curtains swished shut. She sat up, staring hard at the letter. Juliet's father had written this for her? Why? What could it possibly say?

Without further thought, she snatched the letter up and used her dagger to slice the envelope open. She pulled out two pages from the envelope, blinking in surprise at the few drops of blood on the edge of the parchment. Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the letter, smoothed it out on her legs and began to read.

Minutes later, she dropped the letter into her lap.

Taking a deep breath, she struggled to control the rage that washed over her in waves. A sudden need to kill something overwhelmed her. Ignoring her instincts to stay where she belonged, she flung herself onto the floor and out into the corridors. Something had to die. Now.

Her resolve was all but finished when she saw a single person sitting on one of the long, green leather sofas against the wall. The figure had a head of platinum-blonde hair that was hunched over, his arms clasped tightly around his abdomen. "Draco?" she asked quietly.

"I trusted him," Draco muttered, not really knowing who was standing there and, for the moment, not really caring. "He… he didn't say anything."

"Who didn't, Draco?" Faith asked, moving to her cousin with a wary expression. Usually when Draco acted like this, it was because something had happened to his father or to the relatives of his so-called friends. A moment later, he looked up at her. Faith blinked, startled by the lack of color in Draco's normally pale face. His eyes were red-rimmed as though he'd been crying. There were half-moon shaped bruises under his eyes, giving him a gaunt, lifeless pallor. When he saw Faith, his eyes drooped and he lifted his hands to cover his face.

"Don't look at me."

"Why shouldn't I look at you?" Faith asked, placing her hands on her hips. "You're the only person in this house I can even look at."

"You don't want to look at me."

"Try and stop me."

Draco looked back up at her, his silvery eyes shining with tears of anger and frustration. "Go away. Please, go away."

"Talk to me, Draco. What happened to you? Is it your father?"

Draco shook his head, too disgusted with his own blood for the first time in his life to attempt a defense of his father. He felt her shadow cross over his. The moment he saw her right arm reach out to touch him, he gasped and moved away from her. It was then she reached out with both hands and grasped his shoulders, the letter tumbling to the floor.

"Stop, Draco. Don't do this to yourself."

He forced himself to look up into her eyes. Her fingers were biting into his flesh, but he made no attempts to push her away. There was genuine concern in her dark eyes. For the first time that evening, relief flooded through him like a cold wave of water and he felt himself simmer with something new… was it hope? He couldn't tell anymore. He could never tell.

"Faith," he murmured, standing up and towering over her. She released him and, for a moment, he was disappointed. He had wanted to feel her warmth. He wanted to feel that connection.

He wanted to feel safe when he was by her.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone firmer. When he met her eyes again, the concern had changed. He saw a shadow pass her eyes and for a moment realized that they had both been condemned to this same camp. "Tell me."

"I can't," he said sadly. Though he desperately wanted to confide in her, he knew that his father would consider him a blood traitor for even commiserating with a squib, even if she was marked on their side. He wanted to laugh at himself… their side. The side that had caused so much pain and damage. Their side had been working so hard to undercut the influence Harry Potter had over the Wizarding world. He welcomed them to try. Even if Faith was marked, he knew her allegiance lay with Buffy Summers. The only question was where Buffy's allegiance truly was.

Faith took a deep breath and moved away from him. "If you want to sit in the dark and cry like a baby, don't let me stop you," she said harshly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said darkly.

"Why won't you tell me what's making you so angry?" she asked, rounding on him. He saw something in her eyes that reminded him of his mother for some odd reason. There was a chill hidden in their depths that sent chilling waves racing down his spine.

"It has nothing to do with you!" he spat, hating himself for lying to her. "The world doesn't revolve around the Slayers."

Her eyes narrowed as she stormed at him, her finger lifting up and poking in him in the chest so roughly he fell back onto the couch. "You really think you know what a Slayer is, Drake? Do you think you know what powers we hold? I may not be able to hold my own in magic, but I've got strength you couldn't begin to imagine." A horrible smirk now lit her face up and felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "You think the darkness wants us for our hotness?"

No matter how much he wanted to defend Buffy, there was something in Faith's eyes that made his lips seal and he dropped his gaze, staring instead at the letter unfolded at Faith's feet. "Like you're really on our side," Draco scoffed.

Faith stared at the letter for a moment, watching as Draco reached for it. She bent down and snatched it from him, holding it out of his reach. "It doesn't belong to you!" she spat out.

The cousins glared at one another for a moment as Faith shoved the letter back in its envelope before stuffing it in the backside of her shiny pants. A moment later, she dropped on the couch next to him. "Parents suck, don't they?" she asked, her tone of voice completely different from the dark echo he had heard just moments before.

"Join the club," he muttered, folding his arms and glaring in an opposite direction. "I… I need to get out of her for awhile."

"Where are you going to go?" Faith asked humorlessly. "It's almost midnight. You'll be caught out-of-bounds for sure. I don't want you to get in trouble."

Draco leapt to his feet, rising to his full height. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" she asked lightly, eyeing him apprehensively.

"Maybe," Draco replied in a low voice. "Of course I know how to take care of myself."

"It'd be hard to jinx someone with a dagger in your gut," Faith mused.

"So says you," Draco muttered. "Why do you always have to be so morbid?"

"Why do you always have to be a stuck-up Daddy's boy?" Faith retorted.

Draco paused for a moment on his way out the portrait hole, turning only to look at Faith in passing as he quietly replied, "Maybe I'm not like him as much as you'd like to think."

x-o-x

It had been a long night for Harry. After Quidditch practice at Ron's request, the two had made their way through the chilling mist to Gryffindor Tower. Ginny had accompanied them, not saying much of anything. She had been so quiet since the news had come of Bill's death. Ron said that Ginny had always favored Bill above the rest of her brothers and Harry no longer had the heart to argue. Knowing that there had always been a connection between them, he asked her to walk with him for a while. Though it was after nine, he was still Head Boy and had the authority to pull a Prefect out, especially when that Prefect was the little sister of his best friend.

Ginny hadn't said much during their first walk through the seventh floor corridors. After reaching the kitchens for a bowl of ice cream, which Buffy had always said was comfort food, Ginny started to open up a bit.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" she asked, staring at the concoction she had managed to make up. Harry, feeling his stomach clench, stared at the four different blends of ice cream, chocolate, cherry and butterscotch sauce with heaps of whipped cream and several cherries atop the entire mess. And yet Ginny had grabbed a spoon and started on the buttery brittle crunch ice cream.

"Mmm," Harry murmured, staring disgustedly at the ice cream. "I mean, yeah, it is horrible."

"Harry," Ginny said, swallowing her ice cream, "have you been reading the Prophet for the past few days?"

"Of course I have," he said defensively; Ginny had watched him read it that morning.

"People are losing hope," she said softly. "Some people don't think that we're ever going to get through this. They think the Ministry and Hogwarts will fall into Voldemort's hands and that you and Dumbledore are going to die."

"The only way Dumbledore is going to die is if he ever gives up control of this school," Harry argued. "And that will never happen."

Ginny watched him for a moment before turning her attention back to her ice cream. "He'd die for you."

"The thing is, people don't know what to believe anymore. There isn't a family in Britain that hasn't been affected by the war. Dementors are now coming out and breeding. All of those bodies from these massacres are being used as Inferi. The Death Eaters are growing. And they know that two Slayers have been called to their ranks."

"But they wouldn't—" Harry began.

"Not intentionally, maybe," Ginny said, giving him a sad smile as she licked a bit of chocolate sauce off the edge of her hand. "I mean, I know Buffy. She would never do anything to hurt you like that unless it was against her will."

"I know very well what she did," Harry said in a tired voice.

"But Faith?" She watched as Harry's head snapped to look back at her and saw his eyes darken ominously. "You know why she's here, Harry. This school has the strongest protection because you're here. She needs the protection half as much as you."

"Faith wouldn't do anything to hurt me either."

"Neither of them would, but we all know that Voldemort marked them. Because of what they are, they will have no choice but to follow him when he calls or else they're going to die. Could you really stand to lose either one of them?"

Harry felt his heart tighten and thought of watching his sister or his friend die. He let out a slow breath.

"I love Buffy, Harry. She's my friend. And what the Ministry put her through because of what she did… she didn't deserve everything she got, but she wanted to pay for it. Maybe she's paying for it in Bulgaria."

"Right," Harry scoffed. "By being in a coma, she's really atoning for a lot."

Ginny rolled her eyes before digging into her vanilla bean ice cream. "People need a hero, Harry. They need someone to believe in. They need to believe they're safe, which the Ministry can't promise them. Or they need to feel like they have a chance, which the Ministry can't give them. But you can."

Harry, recalling the Prophesy, felt sickened. Neither can live while the other survives…

"You want me to go to active war against Voldemort?" he asked humorlessly. "That'd be swell! Can you imagine me going up against Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Dementors, Inferi and Giants? If I lasted thirty seconds, I'd be happy."

"I never said you were going to go alone," Ginny said, her voice gaining strength. Harry blinked and watched the feverish glow in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature of her dinner. "We need to be ready, Harry. Do you remember the DA?"

"How could I forget it?" Harry replied. He hadn't yet thought of starting it up again this year, mainly because things were as strained as they were.

"You've been preparing us for something, Harry. You were teaching us how to fight. You were teaching us what we would need to know—"

"What?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing where she was going with this. "Do you really think I would let you face Death Eaters?"

"Why not?" Ginny barked, glaring at Harry disdainfully. "Like I haven't fought by your side before!"

"That was different," Harry said in a low voice. "That was when I thought Sirius had been captured by Voldemort and I thought he was going to die. Now that Voldemort is back out and openly fighting us, the last thing we need is for—"

"Underage wizards to fight for their lives?" Ginny asked lightly. "Harry, we are going to lose this war unless someone steps up. Buffy can't do it because she's in Bulgaria and she's hurt. The Ministry is in pieces. The one person who can run the Ministry ran off to save your sister. You are our only hope."

Harry swallowed hard as his thoughts raced through his head. "What would you have me do?"

"I think the time has come for you to tell the Dark Side that we're not giving up without a fight." There was that light in Ginny's face again.

"Look, I know you lost your brother—"

"This has nothing to do with Bill," Ginny said strongly. "This has to do with you, Harry. People are losing faith in your being a so-called 'chosen one'. I think the time has come for you to say that you're going to do something about it. And I think it'd be fair to say Hogwarts will stand behind you." She reached over and grasped Harry's hand suddenly, who jumped as her chilled hand wrapped around his. "Your friends will stand behind you. We might not have super Slayer strength, but you did teach us how to fight. We won't forget you helping us and in your hour of need, we will be there to help you."

Harry felt his eyes soften at her sudden show of loyalty. "Ginny, I'm—"

"Touched? Humbled?" she asked, turning back to her ice cream. "I've been wanting to say that for a long time," she added quietly.

"Thanks for that," he said, reaching over to hold her free hand. She squeezed his hand, smiling genuinely at him. "I'm really quite lucky to have someone like you as a friend."

Ginny's smiled tightened as she turned back to her ice cream before pushing it away. "If there's one thing your sister taught me, its kicking ass is comfort food."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save your brother."

"He knew what he was doing," Ginny replied. "And Emma Vance sent Mum and Dad a letter from Germany last week explaining what had happened. Bill died a hero. I don't think he'd ever go any other way."

Harry pushed open the kitchen door and headed back to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny at his side. They were passing the Entrance Hall when he realized someone was standing there. A single shadow drifted along the back wall as tails of a set of robes swished out of sight. "I'll deal with him if you want to take care of the visitor," Ginny whispered into his shoulder. Harry nodded and Ginny disappeared. Stepping into the light, Harry squinted to see the figure pacing back and forth before he finally realized Harry was standing there looking at him.

"Good Lord, you gave me a fright," the man said, pressing a hand to his chest. Harry found himself looking into a familiar face with sharp blue eyes and a tired, war-weary look about him.

"I know you," Harry said slowly, hoping the man would introduce himself.

"I am Wesley Windham-Pryce," the man said, taking a few steps forward to shake Harry's hand. "And you are—"

"Harry Potter."

Wesley's eyes did the flick up to his scar before lowering to meet Harry's gaze. "You're Buffy's brother."

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Then you are aware of what has happened to her?" Wesley asked, straightening his necktie and shuffling his luggage. It was then Harry realized the man was holding a suitcase and gave him a questioning look.

"I know what happened to her," Harry replied. "Or, I know that something happened to her."

"Very well," Wesley said, glancing around the Entrance Hall impressively. "My father taught here last year."

"Really?" Harry asked, remembering Lincoln Windham-Pryce and shuddering. "I had him. He was a good teacher."

"Yes, yes," Wesley said, looking down another dark corridor before taking a step towards it. "I was wondering if you might show me to your Headmaster's office."

"It's midnight," Harry said, frowning at the clock above the four pillars counting the stones each class had earned all the while positioning himself between the corridor and the man. "He's likely sleeping."

"He sent for me," Wesley replied earnestly. "He called St. Mungo's and I came as soon as I was able."

"You came alone?" Harry asked sharply.

"Surely not, dear boy," Wesley said, frowning at Harry as though he were a troublesome child. "I had an Auror with me. I left her at the gate. I believe your gatekeeper let me in. He came into the castle and went that way, I believe," he added, gesturing down a dark corridor. Again he took a step towards the corridor and again Harry stepped in front of him. "Why are you refusing me entrance?"

"Because if the Headmaster had called for you, surely he must be prepared to meet you."

"And indeed he is," came an amused voice as Professor Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows. "Wesley, welcome to Hogwarts. I am pleased that you could arrive at this late hour. Please, my office is this way." As Wesley departed down the darkened corridor, Professor Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Harry, it is late and I am certain that you would care to sleep. To Gryffindor Tower, please."

As Harry walked in the opposite direction towards the moving staircases, he heard their conversation from the corridors.

"Are you certain she still doesn't know?" Wesley asked in a worried voice.

"From what she would say, she does not," Dumbledore was saying in an apologetic tone. "I appreciate you being the one to tell her…"

Their conversation muted as Harry continued to walk. Forgetting entirely that Ginny was still out, he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, nearly kicking himself with the realization that Faith Landing still didn't know what had happened to her sister Slayer.

x-o-x

Ginny had gone running down the darkened corridor only to find Malfoy standing in front of a portrait with his hands in the air. Ginny glared at him for one moment before she turned to stomp away.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he called after her. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

"I just can't believe I risked detention to tell you off," she snidely remarked, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at him with such contempt he winced, a small flush creeping up his neck. This was the Ginny Weasley he knew and despised – the one who was so full of herself and so deeply entrenched in her precious Potter's inner circle it disgusted him.

"I risked detention to come down here," Draco smirked. "I just fancied a walk in the moonlight."

"How about fancying a walk off the Astronomy Tower?" Ginny replied coldly. "I'm sure a seven-story tumble would tame that look of yours."

"You're not very friendly," Draco said in a sing-song voice, enjoying the red flush that crept up her neck and into her face, making her look rather like a tomato.

"I'm not friendly?" she snapped, placing a hand at her neck. "At least I'm not skulking around like a vampire. Were you spying on us?"

"You mean you and Prince Potter?" Draco replied as Ginny's eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously. "I'd probably fall asleep. Oh Harry," he said, mimicking a breathy, higher-pitched voice quite unlike Ginny's. "I love you so. Will you marry me?"

"You're disgusting, Malfoy," Ginny hissed.

"At least it's a step above disappointing," Draco replied with his usual sneer. "Prince Potter is so head-over-heels for Black that he couldn't even hold onto Granger. I don't know why you figure wasting your time on, of all people, him."

Her eyes narrowed as she stormed past him, making her way back to Gryffindor Tower. Smirking, Draco Malfoy made his way back to the Slytherin common room which, thankfully, was empty of all people, including his annoying cousin.

x-o-x

It was just breaking dawn when Faith crept into the Owlery. Hundreds of owls fluttered above her, but her eyes were searching for one in particular. Though she didn't own one, she knew which one she wanted to use. She finally spotted the one she was looking for and called out to him.

The owl fluttered down and kept hopping around despite the fact she was trying to attach a letter to his leg. The stupid minute owl, she thought to herself. "Pigwidgeon, stay still," she hissed, poking Ron's owl to stay still. It finally stalled long enough for her to attach the letter to its leg and tell him it was for Sirius before the owl hooted and hobbled out the window.

Now she would wait for him to get back to her. After she had read the letter a few times, she had sent it to Sirius with another letter explaining her disgust at her parents and their love for the Pure-bloods. Sure, being pureblooded apparently gave her some sort of power, but it was never anything she had asked for.

She made to leave the Owlery, but found a figure standing just outside, staring over the grounds. At hearing her move around behind him, the figure turned and she stared in surprise at her former Watcher. "Wesley," she murmured.

"Hello, Faith," he said. She noticed his hands were twisting and glanced at him questioningly. "You're up early."

"I just sent a letter off to my brother," Faith replied. "I got a letter of my own last night," she said in response to his confused look. "Some girl in my room gave it to me, said her father wrote it to me before I was born. It proves what great assholes my parents were, if it helps any."

"Faith…"

"I mean, if you look at my cousin and I seriously think you should – he can be a dead ringer for Spike – his parents suck almost as badly as mine do. I guess that's why Pureblood families are just so nice."

"Faith…"

"If only Buffy was here. She knows how much these people piss you off. Her parents were good because I've seen them before in my dreams and all. But mine? Ha! They made my drug addict bitch of a mother look like a saint…"

"Faith, there is something I need to tell you," Wesley said, cutting into her tirade. "This is about Buffy."

At seeing the worried expression on his face, the slight twist of his lips and his hands which wouldn't stop fidgeting, she knew instantly that something had happened to her sister Slayer. What surprised her was that she hadn't been able to sense it. "What happened to her?"

x-o-x

"Come on in, Potter."

Elise opened the door and shut it quietly behind her, glancing at the stern-looking woman sitting behind the desk. A pair of stern green eyes behind square spectacles watched as the girl stood near the doorway. "Sit. I'm glad you came in. It'll give us the chance to talk."

"Talk?" Elise asked, sitting in the chair near the Sergeant's desk.

"You requested extra patrols in your neighborhood," Sergeant McGonagall said, opening a file folder and flipping through some pages. "Do you feel like you're in danger?"

Elise held her tongue, not knowing what to say. She didn't know what the Sergeant knew about her.

"You've taken a great risk with your life, Elise."

Elise eyed her warily. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm taking this risk. I'm being approached and blamed by total strangers for things I don't know about."

"They're not strangers. This is your job, Potter."

"My… my job?"

Sergeant McGonagall closed the folder and sighed, glancing up at the distraught girl. "You were assigned to infiltrate that group. You knew the risks. You knew of their power, of their rather violent tendencies. But you did something foolish."

"Sirius could have died," Elise whispered.

"Do you remember what I said when you were first put on this assignment?"

"Not really," Elise said apologetically.

"When you work with this type of agency, you have no heart. You have no soul, no voice, no human weakness. You cannot let them see your fear. You can't let them into your life like that. That's not how it works."

Elise nodded, frowning and pressing her hand to her forehead. "He's my father's best friend."

"He was out of line. That was his shot. He should have been hit. You got emotional and you got in the way. You're lucky you weren't killed… or worse."

"No, they just put me in a coma for what… five months?"

"They are willing to let you work with them."

Elise exhaled and shook her head. "I can't work with them. I don't even know what I'm working with!"

"Criminal masterminds, financial wonders and they have the intellectual backing to go up against any government, including ours. They expose every corruption, seal every deal and plant discord in every heart. Have I explained myself enough to you yet?"

Elise could barely register what the woman was saying, much less figure out what to say. "You're the boss."

"And as your supervising Sergeant I would rather not have to order you to take on this mission. We have spent a great deal on your training."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Sergeant McGonagall asked archly, rising up and planting her hands on her hips. "You have passed through your probation this quickly because you were willing to turn yourself off to do your job. I expect you to do the same again."

"They… they threatened him. They threatened my family."

Sergeant McGonagall sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I can't protect them."

"Who said it was your responsibility?"

Elise glanced up in concern. "Because… I, well…"

"Your parents are also on this force, right?" the Sergeant asked coolly. "And is your fiancée not surrounded by bodyguards? I assure you, you were picked for this assignment because of how well those you love are protected. Now… you have had a few weeks to recuperate. I suggest taking another to get your feet together. I'm putting you back on the streets as of tomorrow night."

Elise let out a tiny whimper. "So soon?"

"You are ready, Potter. The longer you're off, the harder it is to get back. Those of us who have been here long enough know about it."

"Tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow night, nineteen hundred, be here. I'll put you on your father's unit for a few days, see how well that goes. If all goes well, you'll be back on day patrol in a week."

"Right."

Sergeant McGonagall took in the dazed look on the younger woman's face. But Elise was suddenly realizing why she had pushed all of her friends away for so long. She wanted to protect them. Her parents were protected well enough as they could look after themselves. Cedric was well protected as was his family. But her friends were open, vulnerable.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," Elise said at last, getting to her feet and giving the Sergeant a half-hearted salute. "Thank you, Sergeant."

"This is the right choice," Sergeant McGonagall said, sitting down even after the Potter girl left. "This has to be the right choice."

x-o-o-x

In the next chapter… Buffy (as Elise) continues to cope with the choices she has made in her life; Willow and Tara reappear with a message of their own; Faith continues to deal with the aftermath of the choices the parents she never knew made; Harry has his own problems when he realizes what the final battle will come down to. In two chapters…Elise's last chapter.