Well, that was a crazy chapter (congratulations to those who guessed rightly! I would send you all elvish blessings, but, since I don't know any elvish, I'll keep it quiet). I have as yet not found the rights to Harry Potter (I bet Rowling has them...who wants to bet?), so I don't own it.

##

Ch. 7: Walking on Eggshells

Someone was humming a soft tune in the common room. Curious, Remus opened the door to his room a little wider, just enough to give him a better view of the common room without being totally seen. Still not able to see who it was, Remus, after checking to make sure his friends were still asleep at that godforsaken hour in the morning, he slipped quietly out, carefully shutting the door behind him.

As he made his way down the stairs softly, he noticed that the figure was sitting with her back to him, her familiar black hair falling softly on her shoulders. The tune continued, the singer unaware of his movements.

"Aya?" Remus whispered softly, his heart beating rapidly in his throat.

Her back stiffening, she turned to him, blushing as she saw him. "Oh! Remus, you startled me," she said, smiling at him. The boy stood rooted to the spot, fearful lest he betray himself to his emotions.

"Er...where were you...yesterday, Aya?" he asked, skillfully remembering the lines he had gone over and over in his head as he lay in bed last night.

He noticed the way she paled slightly, her eyes narrowing as she sought the perfect answer, subtle movements to those who didn't know the real reason. "I took a bad fall down the stairs yesterday morning and had to go to the Hospital Wing for a stupid little cut on my side. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me go!" she said with a laugh. He smiled, thinking, How can I tell her? "You're a little quiet today, Remus," Aya said after a pause, cocking her head to one side. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" He looked up from his feet, drawn away from his thoughts. "Oh, I had a lot of homework to catch up on, so I'm a little spacey," he replied. It's a little bit of the truth. "Are you feeling better, though, Aya?" he asked; he noticed how she looked more tired than usual, and how she leaned to one side.

"Oh, yes," she said, smiling at him again as if in reassurance.

"Did you get all your assignments from Lily?"

She nodded. Feeling slightly idiotic, he moved over and sat in the armchair across from her, a table the only obstacle between them. She loves me, he thought again, that weird feeling arising in his stomach again. "What were you singing?" he asked, feeling awkward.

She blushed. "Oh, it's just a little tune I heard a long time ago. My...mother used to sing me to sleep with it," she said, fidgeting with the tattered book in her lap as she drew her bare feet onto the armchair.

"Are there words?" Remus asked before he could even stop himself.

Blushing again, she replied slowly, "Well...yes, but...well, why don't I tell them to you later?"

He nodded, then gathered his courage and wits about him. "Listen...Aya, um, I was thinking," Remus said slowly, twisting his hands in his lap as he stared across at her.

"About what?" she asked.

"Um...about...about..." he faltered. I can't do it, he thought, I can't just tell her. I'm too afraid. He looked around frantically for something to help him finish with something somewhat plausible, then saw the book in her lap. "That book. I was wondering if I could maybe borrow it when you're done? It's Lord of the Rings, right? You see, I haven't read it in a long time," he finished quickly, cursing himself for his lack of courage.

Staring down at it as if for the first time, she replied, "Of course you can! I'm just about finished with it, anyway, so you can keep it as long as you like."

"You're a fast reader," he observed, sitting back. "It took me a lot longer than a month to finish Lord of the Rings, even with free time."

As she blushed, he noticed how tightly she held the book, as if it were her anchor to reality. "It's still pretty early, huh?" Aya asked, looking around at the deserted common room.

"Earlier than usual," he replied, meeting her gaze. Say it, Remus, his mind yelled at him, but he shrugged it off. "Not right now," he muttered.

"Hm?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He's acting rather odd, she thought.

Startled, he replied, "Oh...I...um...said that you could...borrow my copy of Heretics of Dune if you like in exchange for your book."

Her eyes widening, she laughed aloud with glee, then said, "You really mean it? I can borrow it?"

"You can have it," he said with a smile, enjoying her happiness. "I can always get another one."

For a second, he thought she would die from happiness as she ran over and hugged him, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, smiling broadly.

His face red with embarrassment and pleasure, he took her hand, said, "Come on, let's go down to breakfast. It's nice to get there early, you know?"

##

"Now, the essentials of hunting and convicting witches, such as a jury trial and execution, were in fact slightly different in the New World, the colonies, than in England," Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher, was saying in his usual monotone voice. Though not a true requirement, and in fact truly never posted on a class schedule, every sixth year knew that History of Magic now was held every Friday afternoon as an extended education, to which every normal student called "prolonging our inevitable doom."

James was trying to see how far he could blow paper across the table, being a diligent and attentive student, while Sirius, a model student in his own right, was trying to balance his quill pen on his nose while leaning perilously back in his chair. Peter was asleep as usual, while Lily was diligently taking notes. Remus, who knew full well that he should stop Sirius before he fell backward, was instead paying a bit more attention to Aya, who stared out the window, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Looking at her notebook, he found she had written rather incoherent notes, such as: Crucible; the importance of McCarthyism; ties to novel/witch hunting; theme of untrue independence in colonies; spells used. Raising an eyebrow at them, he continued on down the page until he saw his own name surrounded by a heart. He blushed, then returned his attention to her notes.

"Aya," he whispered, nudging her with his foot. "How do you expect to understand your notes? What's the Crucible?"

"Hm?" she asked turning to him, her eyes coming into focus. "You never read it? It's a play that makes fun of McCarthyism and shows that a hypocritical society always rears its ugly head in history."

"McCarthyism?"

"You've never heard of it? I'll tell you later," Aya whispered, nodding to the lecture. "Besides, you just missed an important fact, silly." She giggled, her smile broadening.

Frowning, he turned back to his own notes.

How can I tell her? Why would I want to destroy that beautiful smile?

##

"Ah, yes, the weekend has come as our Savior at last!" Sirius cried, tossing his book nonchalantly behind him. Startled at the book-gone-target flying towards her, Aya sidestepped, watching as it clattered to the ground. "Oops...sorry about that, Aya," Sirius said apologetically.

"You should take better care of your books, Sirius," Aya said with a laugh as she gathered the book in her arms as if it were a helpless infant. Still smiling, she returned it to its proper owner, who looked less than pleased.

"A few more feet and it would've hit the fire," Sirius said with a sigh as he sank further into the armchair. "You almost ready with that chessboard, Prongs?"

Looking up from his carefully laid out battle field, James grinned, said, "You ready to lose again?"

"Oh, shut up...just because you beat me seven times in a row DOES NOT make you better than I am!"

Suppressing an urge to laugh, Aya sat down on the floor facing the fire and opened her newly acquired Heretics of Dune novel with a happy sigh and began to read.

"'Most discipline is hidden discipline, designed not to liberate but to limit. Do not ask Why? Be cautious with How? Why? leads inexorably to paradox. How? traps you in a universe of cause and effect. Both deny the infinite.

-The Apocrypha of Arrakis'

'Taraza told you, did she not, that we have gone through eleven of these Duncan Idaho gholas? This one is the twelfth.'"

"...ya...Aya! Hey, can you answer me, or not, you silly girl?"

Startled and slightly disoriented in her drastic move to reality once more, Aya looked up from the book to gaze at Lily, who stood in front of her with her hands on her hips. "Hm?" Aya asked, still slightly drawn into the universe of Dune, almost saying Taraza at the end of her sentence.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" Lily said with a laugh, crossing her arms in mock sternness.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it," Aya replied with a blush.

"Well, anyway, I was just going to say that Remus over there would like to tell you something," she said, and, as she saw that the boy had not heard her, said a little louder, "something of great importance that dear Remus would like to tell Aya!" She grinned as his back straightened, his face paling quickly as his eyes widened in shock and fear.

"No, I don't!" he hissed, eyeing her.

"Yes, you DO."

"I DON'T, and that's the end of it!"

Sensing yet another argument, Aya returned to her novel, shocked that she felt so unconcerned in the matter.

"Look," Lily said, giving a quick glance at Aya, "she's not even paying attention anymore."

Which was certainly the truth, as Remus soon learned as he pushed himself up from his chair to glance at her. "Well, good then," Remus said with a triumphant smile. "I'll tell her on my own time, thank you very much."

Glaring at him and angered at her own failure, Lily sat down next to James, who, though still concentrating on the game before him, put an affectionate arm around her, then kissed her on the cheek, whispering, "Let him do that on his own time."

Lily remained silent.

##

"'Describe a ghola,' he demanded.

'Innocent flesh devoid of its original memories. See Axlotl Tank.'

Duncan had learned to read the silences, the blank places in what the people of the Keep revealed to him. Revelation swept over him. He knew! Only ten and he knew!

I am a ghola."

Aya stopped. A mere thirty pages into the book and already she had stopped for the second time, but this time it was her own fault as the horrible, churning thought breached her.

I am a werewolf.

Though it chilled her somewhat, she felt a connection with the Duncan Idaho ghola, the clone of the original warrior, killed in battle while protecting his Atreides duke, Paul. She found both her predicament and that of Duncan's shunned existence as ironic: both were shunned by society, both misunderstood and feared.

It made her laugh aloud, a long laugh that had no beginning and no end that made all eyes turn towards her. Fear! How pathetic for one to be driven by fear! "Fear is the mindkiller. It is the little death that brings total obliteration."

She had loved that quote the very second she had read it in Dune; the full Bene Gessirit Litany Against Fear she had memorized to its fullest. It helped during a full moon.

She was aware of the stares she was receiving from everyone in the common room, stares that made her more than uncomfortable. Stares she had endured for more than half her lifetime. Shrugging off bad memories with a sigh, she stood, gripping the book tightly in her hand, then made her way to the stairs. Ignoring the continuous stares, blocking out the hushed whispers, she made her way up the stairs and to her room, shutting the door quickly behind her.

She felt it coming long before she covered her face with her pillow, drawing the curtain around her. Shame took her as she sobbed: shame at herself, what she was, her life, everything. Everything was shame. She pressed her hands against her head, trying to ward off the memories that pressed into her mind, familiar memories of being beaten by fellow students. "Stop crying, you little shit! Baby! Halfling!" Kick after kick after punch after punch until she lay quivering on the floor, the girls' faces looming over her in gleeful triumph.

"No," she whispered. "Please...leave me alone."

And there was nothing and no one to comfort her. Just like always.

%$%%$

Well, there it is...I don't own the Dune saga (that's Frank Herbert's expertise...)...all I can say is, PLEASE REVIEW! THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!