The first thing Severus noticed, upon entering the house, was that it was showing a marked improvement from the last time he'd been there, a mere three weeks earlier. The walls were freshly painted, the carpet had been replaced, the serpentine chandelier had been removed, and the awful gas lamps and portraits were gone. Instead, attractive baroque sconces and new paintings lined the walls. And the oppressive feeling of Dark magic that had previously permeated the entire building was almost gone. The only evidence left that it was indeed the same house was the covered portrait of Mrs. Black that still hung down the hall from the basement door, and even it had a new drape.

The wizards in the house would not have been able to do so much; Rachel's packmates had to be responsible for the extent of the changes. He had yet to meet any of them – they had not attended the one Order meeting he'd been present for in the past month, and, though he knew which rooms they were staying in, he had not sought them out.

They left the luggage by the door, and descended the stairs. As expected, Albus was in the basement kitchen, along with Molly Weasley and Black. Also present was a tall, reedy woman with wavy, strawberry blonde hair. She'd a mischievous look about her, reminiscent of that of the Weasley twins, so she was undoubtedly Pascale.

She was not particularly attractive – she was too thin, her face too long, her lips too full, and her eyes set too far apart, but she radiated confidence, humor, and seemed approachable in a way that Rachel was not. And so, while she was certainly not the type of woman he found attractive, Severus was not surprised that Rachel had insinuated that Pascale was very popular with men.

She looked over toward the door as they entered, then she grinned and exclaimed in a throaty voice, "My girls are here!"

Severus sidestepped barely in time to avoid being trampled as she barreled toward Rachel. As she passed by him, she said, "Nice to meetcha." She nearly knocked Rachel into the wall with the force of impact, hugged her sisters in a less life-threatening manner, then herded the three of them out of the room.

A few moments later, a loud cry sounded from above. "I'll be back in a moment," Molly Weasley promised, going to check on the girls.

Severus turned back around to find a confused Black looking toward the door. "Whatever is the matter, Black? I should think you'd be used to women running from you as though their very lives depended on it."

Black did no more than glare at him momentarily before confusion once more won out. "What happened to your face?"

Severus merely raised an eyebrow in response.

That moment, Molly reentered the room. "I believe Pascale was just getting up to a bit of mischief. That girl is…" she sighed and shook her head. "And I thought my boys were a handful."

Severus looked toward her. "Oh, you were quite correct, Molly."

Molly sat heavily in the closest chair. "As soon as Aton and John return, we can get started. They should be back in a half hour or so."

"Oh, Sirius," she began, favoring Sirius with a meaningful glance, "I'm still not certain where I am going to put Pascale… Darcy and Leah need her room."

Black glared at her, crossing his arms as his face colored slightly. With a frustrated sigh, he said, "The matter has already been taken care of, Molly, though I doubt you'll approve."

"Splendid!" Albus declared. He immediately steered the conversation in a much less interesting direction. Severus was disappointed; he'd have liked to discover for certain if what had just been implied was, in fact, correct – if it was Black's room Pascale would be moving into. But he could wait.

Pascale paused just outside the door and picked up two pinkish pieces of string that were trailing up the stairs and out of sight. She turned to face Rachel and her sisters, put her free index finger to her lips and mouthed the word 'quiet'. Then, she turned and started up the stairs.

The girls shared a look of confusion, but followed quietly.

Once she reached the door, Pascale stopped, brought the ends of the strings to her lips, cupped her mouth with her other hand, and shouted, "Get your arses down here!"

Twin shouts of surprise and pain sounded from almost directly above them. Pascale opened the door, then twisted around to face them, grinning madly. "I'm just trying to teach them the dangers of clumsy surveillance. Really, they should thank me for it. But do they?"

She turned back at the sound of two loud cracks and found herself face to face with the very annoyed twins. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I told you that you should work on camouflaging these things. Anyway, would you mind levitating your cousins' luggage upstairs to my room?"

At that, she squeezed back past Darcy and Leah and pushed them forward. "Hey, Darcy, Leah, I'd like you to meet Fred and George."

The kitchen door opened and closed, and Mrs. Weasley called to them. "Everything all right up there?"

Fred and George immediately pulled on their Extendable Ears, tugging the ends out of Pascale's hand. "Fine, Mum, Pascale just wanted our help with the luggage," Fred called down.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Mum. We've got it," George added.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "Just try not to wake anything up, alright?"

"Right Mum!"

Molly reentered the kitchen, and Fred and George exhaled the breaths they'd been holding, turning to glare at Pascale once more.

"Oh, I know, I know," Pascale reassured quietly, favoring them with a goofy grin. "Retribution when I least expect it. As always, I look forward to the challenge of avoiding my comeuppance. Now come on, the luggage isn't gonna move itself."

Fred and George returned Pascale's grin, though theirs were slightly sinister, as they were undoubtedly contemplating their revenge, then they turned around and walked out into the hallway, levitated the luggage and directed it toward the stairs.

"Keep quiet out in the hall, okay? No talking until we get upstairs," Pascale ordered. They followed her out the door and down the hall past an unpainted section of wall. There, in the center of the unpainted section, hung a heavy black drape. Rachel suspected it covered the painting of Sirius Black's mother, which Severus had kindly warned them about. Rachel's suspicions were all but confirmed when Pascale flipped the drape off as she passed it.

They silently ascended the stairs. As they reached the second landing, Fred and George were emerging from the door to the left. Immediately, they focused their attention on Darcy and Leah.

"Well, now that we're away from the painting of doom, we can greet you properly. Good morning, ladies!" Fred exclaimed.

With a flourish and half bow, George continued, "We welcome you to the madhouse."

"Yeah, and I'm Fred, he's George, and it's delightful to meet you both." Then Fred favored them with a rather exaggerated bow.

Leah giggled and Darcy rolled her eyes. "I'm Darcy, and the tiny one's my sister Leah, and not actually a House Elf, though she has been mistaken for one on occasion."

Leah crossed her arms. "Are you ever going to stop telling people that? I was only five and I was dressed up as one for Halloween!"

Everyone, well everyone but Leah, laughed – partly because the idea of dressing up as a House Elf was quite odd, but mostly because of the indignant look on Leah's face.

The door across the way opened and a girl with bushy brown hair stepped out. "Hello," she said, then she poked her head back into the room. "Your cousins are here, Ron."

Fred announced, "Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but we're right in the middle of something."

"Yeah, must be off. I know it will be difficult, but try to carry on without us. We'll be back as soon as we can."

With a crack, Fred and George disapparated.

"We think they're trying to coax Ginny, that's our sister, into taking over their, erm, responsibilities at school. Hermione here's hoping that Ginny has enough sense not to take up the mantle of school prankster, though," explained the tall red haired boy that had emerged while Fred and George were speaking. "I'm Ron, by the way."

"And I have never seen so much red hair in one place…oh, sorry, I'm Darcy."

"Hey, before you get too deep into the conversing, I need to borrow Rachel for a bit. Do you guys mind hanging out in Ron's room for a while? I promise not to keep you from checking out your room for too long."

Darcy shrugged. "Sure, Pascale. It's cool, as long as we get our turn with Rachel later."

"God, what am I, a ride?" Rachel asked crossly.

With a quirk of an eyebrow and a particularly nasty smirk, Pascale whispered something in Rachel's ear that made her utter a startled eep, turn dark red, and duck into her sisters' new room.

"Wow, what did you say to her?" Darcy asked, intrigued.

Pascale whispered in Darcy's ear, "I just told her that she wasn't actually my type, but that the thought had probably crossed Severus' mind."

Darcy giggled. "You got that impression too? We'll sooo talk later." Then she turned to face Ron and Hermione.

"Why are we all still standing out here? Lead me now to a comfy chair!" she demanded.

As the kids filed into Ron's room, Pascale walked into the room that was no longer hers and shut the door, mumbling to herself, "I love that girl."

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Albus and Molly had settled into a comfortable conversation. Severus and Sirius, on the other hand, had lost interest and had returned to glaring at each other from opposite corners of the room.

Severus wanted to resume their usual conversation – Black attempting to get under his skin and succeeding at the same himself. With Albus in the same room, however, it just seemed like a bad idea. For whatever reason, Albus was fond of Black and might take it upon himself to join in. And while Black rarely got to him, Albus could get past his defenses faster than anyone else on the planet.

So he simply stood, glared, and fervently wished that Black would just spontaneously combust, and thereby brighten his day…in more ways than one, he thought nastily.

"Something funny, Snivellus?"

"Just thinking that it would brighten my day if you were to burst into flames."

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

Severus rolled his eyes, choosing not to dignify that with a response.

Upstairs, the adolescents had settled down on the two beds in Ron's room and had begun to break the ice a bit.

"Darcy, forgive me if this seems rude, but is that your natural hair color?"

"Oh God, no. My hair's naturally a little darker than yours is. But King Ayanami has a fabulous line of hair care potions," Darcy declared with a flip of her hair.

"Really? Is it a topical potion?" Hermione asked, pushing her own unruly hair out of her face.

"Yes and no. First, you apply the topical one just like you would regular old hair color. But then you drink a one ounce potion every month and it'll grow that way. It kicks ass."

"Now, you said King Ayanami? Ayanami's your surname, isn't it?"

"Yup, and Mom's maiden name is King. Mom and Dad started the company before they got married. And so, since it's our company, I get to use the products for an unbeatable price."

"Meaning free?"

"Yup! Thank God for Mom's potions. The other one I use regularly keeps my skin clear, tan, and moisturized. Mom developed most of the potions King Ayanami sells herself, but a few of the people on staff do some of the creative stuff too."

Ron, who had grown more and more uncomfortable over the course of the very girly discussion, took the opportunity to interrupt. "Hey, erm, Mum said that we're supposed to catch you up on what's going on. So, how much do you know?"

"Actually, can we just skip over all that for a bit? I've got more pressing questions."

"Pressing?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah, what do you know about the public transportation situation? Hey, I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!"

Ron blinked a couple of times at the odd phrase. "Erm, why d'you wanna know that?"

"Duh! We're in London for three weeks! Sightseeing! We've got a map of the Underground, but we need to know if we'll need to catch a bus to the tube or if we're close enough to a stop to walk."

"But…I thought your Mum sent you here early so you could find out what was going on. You know, so you would be prepared for Hogwarts and You-Know-Who?" Hermione piped up.

"Shyeah, as if! Rachel sent us a long email explaining everything she knows. I don't care beyond that. Well, Leah probably has an afternoon's worth of questions." Darcy glanced over at Leah, who nodded. "But I'm all about being a tourist. Do you know how many art galleries and museums there are in London? And the cathedrals and parks; the historic buildings and the monuments? I can't wait to see the Tower and the Crown Jewels. And then there's the theatre – there's no way I'm gonna be in London and not go see 'Phantom'. Oh, and don't even get me started on the shopping…" Darcy trailed off as her eyes glazed over.

Ron shook his head. "Why would you want to go see all that muggle stuff?"

Darcy's eyes refocused and her jaw dropped. A moment later, her fists clenched, her mouth snapped shut, and her face started to turn red.

Leah reached up and put her hand on Darcy's shoulder. "Breathe deeply and count to ten. Mom made you promise!" Then Leah turned and glared at Ron.

"What'd I say?" Ron asked, confusion evident in his voice and on his face.

Darcy took a few deep breaths and crossed her arms over her chest. "Not everyone holds with that elitist crap, you know."

"What!" Ron cried.

Darcy snapped, "Did you, or did you not, just suggest that 'muggle' stuff was a waste of our time? 'Cause that's how it sounded. I mean, could you sound like more of a dick?"

"Darcy!" Leah said sharply. "I doubt very much that Ron meant to offend us. We're in a different culture, remember? Mom made you promise not to fly off the handle over every little thing. Any of this ringing a bell?"

The fire drained from Darcy's face just as quickly as it appeared, and she slumped back on the bed with a huff. She looked, sheepishly, up at Ron. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

The confusion on Ron's face cleared a few moments later. "Oh, yeah! I remember Rachel saying that muggle and wizarding cultures are, what did she call it…integrated in America. I didn't mean nothing bad about muggles, we just don't, you know, really socialize with them or anything here. But, I didn't mean to get up your nose or anything."

Darcy's nose scrunched up as she tried to figure out what that last bit meant. Shrugging it off, she shook her head, "Did you ever wonder if that sort of attitude was one of the factors that led to the Big V?"

"The what?"

Darcy sighed. "Oh, You-Know-Who. Rachel warned us not to say the guy's name around you, so I'm calling him the Big V instead. It's faster than all that 'You-Know-Who' crap. Why don't you say his name anyway? It's not that hard to pronounce."

"Well, nah, it's not that it's hard to pronounce. It's just he's so, such a…" Ron trailed off. He took a deep breath. "He's so awful, evil, horrifying. He's just such a monster that no one can bear to speak or hear his name."

Darcy snorted. "You're kidding…" She looked at Ron and Hermione in turn. "Oh, you're not kidding. You know, Leah here actually did some research into his original 'reign of terror'. Do you know how many deaths the Big V is actually responsible for?"

"Yeah, thousands!" Ron exclaimed.

Darcy turned to Leah and gave a little wave of her hand, indicating that she should take over.

Leah took a deep breath. "Approximately twenty-five thousand. By comparison, Josef Stalin was responsible for the deaths of somewhere between twenty and fifty million of his own countrymen, possibly more, but the Russian people were never afraid to use his name. They were undoubtedly afraid to talk trash about him at the time, but… Or Adolf Hitler – frankly, there are some frightening similarities between Hitler and Mr. Riddle, but that's a whole other conversation. Anyway, over sixty million people died in World War II. Every one of them died because of Adolf Hitler, but I've never heard of anyone fearing to speak his name.

"Now, I'm not saying that Riddle isn't a monster," Leah continued, "but frankly, I fail to see how people can be so terrified of him when he doesn't even come close to ranking among the top five killers of the twentieth century. Now, you may tell me that I'm naming all non-magics, or 'muggles' if you prefer, and that it's not the same thing, but I would tend to disagree with you."

"I…I dunno what to say to that." Ron paused a moment, contemplating the information Leah had just thrown at them.

"Did you say 'non-magics'?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you call them muggles, but we find that to be an offensive term. There are centuries of prejudice tied to the word. Non-magic, on the other hand, suggests nothing beyond an inability to do magic. At first, they tried to get us to use the term 'mundane' to describe non-magical people. It works fine, mind you, as a descriptive term for inanimate objects, like houses or schools or whatever, but the connotation of mundane as applied to people is insulting. Mundane is the opposite of magical, but it also implies that one is ordinary or boring," Darcy answered.

Then she huffed. "Of course, you can still find a lot of people, living separated from the rest of the human race, who continue to use the word 'muggle'. But you're certainly unlikely to hear the term in Los Angeles…well, most anywhere in California, really."

Ron rubbed the side of his head. "This is giving me a headache."

Hermione simply sat, eyebrows knit, with her chin resting in her palm. She eventually broke the uncomfortable silence, answering a previous question. "We're actually in central London, only about a half mile or so from a couple of different tube stops," she said absently. "You know, I never really thought about Voldemort that way."

"Hermione!" Ron scolded, wincing.

"What? Leah and Darcy have raised some excellent points just now. Voldemort isn't half as bad as most," she paused and smiled, "non-magical dictators. I'm not saying we shouldn't fear him. It's always wise to fear a dangerous sociopath, right? But we shouldn't just allow that fear to consume or define us. And you know, Darcy, I've never thought much about the term 'muggle', but I think Americans are quite on to something there. So, what's your stance on House Elf liberation?"

Rachel stretched out on the bed, rolling onto her side to face Pascale, who'd plopped down on the other one. "So, what have you guys been up to this past month? It's been a little frustrating that Albus doesn't want any 'sensitive subjects' discussed over the floo connection."

"Well, it hasn't actually been all that exciting lately. I actually meant it literally when I told you we've been cleaning house. You wouldn't have believed this place when we got here. Filthy, cracked and peeling paint, threadbare carpet, rusted sconces and it smelled funny. But the cosmetic issues were minor compared to the…" Pascale shuddered and then shook her head.

"Sirius' family… Most of his relatives are or were Dark wizards and witches. And the few that weren't, like him, got removed from the official family tree. This house was so permeated with the Wyrm and Dark magic when we arrived that none of us could bear to sleep here for the week it took us to Cleanse the Wyrm from the house." Pascale ran a hand over her face. "I actually threw up the first time we walked into the place; that should give you a better idea of how bad it was. Fortunately, all the Cleansing rites destabilized the Dark magic enough that a few members of the Order have been able to dismantle most of the Dark spells and charms on the house. The only thing we've been unable to get rid of is Mrs. Black, and we finally figured out how to deal with her."

"Really? How? Severus told me that it had been attached to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. I thought only the original caster could remove that spell."

"You're not wrong. Sirius told us the same thing. So, we can't get the painting off the wall, but there's nothing protecting the wall itself. And it happens to be constructed of rather average wood. I suppose you noticed that we haven't painted that section of the wall?"

Rachel's eyes widened. "What are Aton and John out doing?"

Pascale smiled widely, eyes sparkling. "They went to the post office to pick up a couple of powered hand saws and a portable generator your dad sent us. We'll just need someone here to un-shrink them and then, bzzzzzzz. Then old Mrs. Black will start screaming, 'I'm melting, I'm melting!' or something, then she'll topple over, and we'll all sing 'Ding, dong, the witch is dead'. I plan to lead a rousing chorus of it."

Pascale got a far-off look in her eyes. "I can't wait to be rid of that horrible painting. Oh, and since none of us knows anything about rebuilding a wall, I sent your mom the measurements of the area we're cutting out and a sample of the wood and plaster. She said she'd send us some 'Contractor in a Can' at cost along with the tools and the generator."

"Dang, Mom's feeling awfully generous with that stuff lately. She and Dad sent me enough of it to turn my cold, stone, candlelit office into a warm, inviting living room. She gave it to me for free, though."

"Actually, Aton insisted on paying for the raw materials even though Maddie said the profit margin was so high on the product that she'd be more than happy to give it to us for free. She said that ever since your dad and Tyler got the Arithmancy program perfected, she just has to prepare a couple of potions and Ty takes care of the rest. She said the whole process takes about an hour now that the computer does all the Arithmancy calculations."

"Wow! I still remember when King Ayanami Corp. first started production; the process took a solid day and a half. Did Mom say much about how Ty was working out? I haven't talked to her about it, and I knew she was afraid it was going to be awkward working with Todd's better half."

"Pfft. No one can resist Ty's charms for long. I mean, if your uptight brother couldn't resist him, who could? Still not sure what he sees in Todd, though. Anyway, Maddie couldn't stop gushing about what a great job he's doing. After all, he's brilliant with Arithmancy, Charms and computers. He is the job description. Ty's doing such a great job that your Dad's already free to go back to teaching. And he and Ty are co-writing a paper on Computer-assisted Arithmancy. Apparently, three different journals have already expressed interest. They're pretty excited."

"You got all of this from one conversation?"

"Hey! It's me."

"Hmm, I should probably give Mom a call. You make me feel like a terrible daughter."

"Well, I try. And since you can actually make phone calls from here, you don't even have an excuse for not calling her."

"True. So, is that it? Or have you been doing anyone, er, thing else?"

"See, Hermione," Ron said gleefully. "Everyone except you knows that House Elves are happy enslaved."

"I didn't say enslaved. I said bound. It's subtly different," Darcy clarified.

"It hardly makes a difference. The Elves still don't have the freedom to do what they want! Bound or enslaved," Hermione fumed.

"Are you just not paying attention to me?" Darcy asked, clearly exasperated. Without waiting for a reply, she continued talking. "House Elves want to work. It's their entire, freaking purpose in life! Do you know what non-magics call House Elves? Yeah, they've heard of them. Non-magics call them Brownies. Ever read any stories about them? Of course you have. They aren't happy unless they have a family and a home to care for. They only wound up bound to wizard families in the first place because they wouldn't agree to stop serving non-magic families when all the secrecy laws were passed.

"Magically binding all the House Elves to wizard families was the only thing they could think of to solve the problem. At the time, of course, no one thought that wizards would ever lose respect for House Elves and start treating them like crap. Didn't you learn this in History?"

"No, we did not. I've never heard any such thing. Do you have the book with this information with you?" Hermione asked icily.

"No, we had Ethics last year. Why would I bring a book I was done with?"

"How very convenient," Hermione sneered.

Ron was beginning to look afraid. Hermione never got like this with him and Harry. Leah, on the other hand, had gotten bored of playing peacemaker and quietly slipped from the room.

Darcy stood up and jabbed an index finger accusingly at Hermione. "Don't give me that shit! Just 'cause I don't have it on me, don't act like I made it up! I'm not a walking reference library."

Hermione stood and faced off with Darcy. "Nor do you look like one. A streetwalker perhaps, but…"

Darcy took another step forward, bringing her nearly nose to nose with Hermione. "Hey, just because you're not used to being the ignorant party in a discussion doesn't mean you get to…"

Darcy was far too busy shouting at Hermione to see it coming. And Ron could only watch in disbelief as Hermione's face twisted in anger and her arm, and most importantly the open palm at the end of it, arced toward Darcy's face. The impact of said palm actually turned her head.

Ron watched, horrified, as Darcy lifted a trembling hand to her face and took a couple of gasping breaths, eyes welling up with tears. Ron was torn between comforting his cousin, then scolding Hermione, or just playing it safe and staying out of the whole thing.

Had he been sitting on Darcy's other side, he might have felt a bit differently about the turn of events, as he might have noticed Darcy's hand curling into a fist. So, Ron was still sitting, undecided, and Hermione had relaxed and was looking distinctly apologetic when Darcy struck. She caught Hermione in the jaw with a right hook and Hermione fell to the ground between the beds, still conscious but shocked beyond reaction.

"I thought it was only fair that I get in one you didn't see coming too. And, no offense, but you hit like a girl," Darcy spat out coldly.

At that, a freshly enraged Hermione kicked out hard, catching Darcy in the shin. She went tumbling down on top of Hermione with a shout.

Ron shoved himself off the bed, intending to put a stop to the fight before it got bloody. But he'd only taken one step forward when he was thoroughly distracted by long, toned legs and green satin knickers. Then he noticed that Hermione's top had ridden up in the scuffle, exposing her midriff and just the tiniest bit of her bra.

Eyes unblinking and mouth dry, Ron didn't even realize that he'd sat back down. He was pulled, momentarily, out of fifteen year old boy heaven by a memory that echoed through his head: 'Bloody great pervert…leering at our cousin that way.'

Abashed and slightly disgusted with himself, but glad that at least she wasn't a first cousin, he refocused his attention on Hermione…well, primarily on Hermione, at any rate. And once he focused on her, he couldn't rip his eyes away. Her face was flushed, her hair in disarray, and her eyes on fire as she wrestled with Darcy, thrashing, kicking, and shoving, and finally getting herself into a kneeling position. Ron was certain she'd never been more beautiful, though he did wish her pants were a little tighter. At last, she managed to get Darcy into a headlock.

As Darcy was about to bite her way free, she finally noticed Ron watching with glazed eyes and a slack jaw.

"Hey Ron," Darcy said conversationally. "Is this workin' alright for you or would it help if we stripped?"

Darcy's sharp tone on her last few words penetrated Ron's lust-fogged brain and he flinched. "I, uh, erm…"

Turning redder than his hair, Ron jumped off the bed and ran for the door. He might have made it out completely unscathed, too, had Darcy not grabbed his ankle, causing him to pitch forward. But Ron had grown up with five older brothers and it had made him a fairly adept escape artist. Wrenching his ankle out of Darcy's grasp, he used the doorknob to pull himself up, opening the door at the same time. He was out of the room only a few seconds later than originally planned, and with only a scraped knee for his trouble.

Halfway up the stairs to Fred and George's room, though, Ron realized what he'd just escaped from, and sunk down in misery. He'd just run from a chance to roll about on the floor with Hermione. Whatever pain they'd have inflicted would have been more than worth it! Dammit!

So he sat, frustrated, on the stairs. His mind flickered back, at last, to Darcy's question to him, asking if it would help if they stripped. Absently grateful that Darcy had seemed more amused than angry, Ron drifted off into a fantasy where he told them that it just might and they happily complied. And soon, they asked Fantasy Ron to join in…

The sound of a door opening and closing brought Ron back to his senses, and to the realization that his pants had gotten quite uncomfortable. Realizing that someone could pass by him at any moment, Ron rushed to the nearest toilet and locked himself in. Drifting back into his fantasy, he, well, took the situation firmly in hand.

The sniping back and forth got boring pretty quickly. Severus avoided any mention of Pascale, as it could lead to questions about Rachel. And Severus was far too unsure of his feelings toward the woman to have the desire to talk about her with someone like Black.

And perhaps the bugger sensed that…

"So, Pascale never mentioned how hot Rachel was," Sirius said with a suggestive smirk.

Severus sneered, "Unsurprising, as Miss Ayanami is undoubtedly not Pascale's type."

"Too bad. I wouldn't mind being the meat in that sandwich, if you catch my drift."

Oh God, was Black actually going to attempt to have a conversation with him about this? "You really are a simpleton. It truly amazes me how entirely unable you are to think with the brain inside your skull."

"Well, at least I get good use out of the other. I spent over a decade celibate due to circumstance. Must be worse for you, though, to go without 'cause no one would shag you."

They were interrupted by a small voice at the door. "Well, so much for my hope of finding intelligent conversation among the adults." With that, Leah turned to leave.

And Severus was far too mortified to stop her.

"So, Aton's family will be here in a couple of weeks. Albus' buddy at the Bureau has been able to help expedite the immigration process for them. I'm not sure if their originally being from Egypt made it easier or harder for him to do, but Saphiya is very grateful. She'd always wanted to live here. You know, she was always worried that little Izzy was gonna get shot at school or something."

Rachel chuckled. "I'll bet she's almost as worried that the nickname's gonna stick."

"Like I'm really gonna call him 'Azizi'. Now there's a name that could get your ass kicked on the playground. She'll come around. It took a long time, but she's finally gotten used to me calling her Phie (pronounced: fee)."

"So, is there gonna be room for them here?"

Pascale smiled widely. "There doesn't have to be! We're buying a house just outside of Inverness. It's closing next week. Surprise! We were gonna surprise you after we moved in, but it turns out we need you to sign the papers, too. Since you're 'officially'," Pascale punctuated the word with air quotes, "a witch, having your name on the deed means we can get hooked into the Floo Network really easily. That's even more convenient than a Moon Bridge for emergency travel. We could be in Hogsmeade or London at a moment's notice."

"Oh my God, that's fabulous! You'll be pretty close to the school, I think. I couldn't tell you exactly how close, what with Hogwarts being unplottable, but, ooh, I bet I could walk to the nearest mundane town, and then figure the distance from there." Realizing Pascale was staring blankly at her, Rachel grinned weakly. "Sorry, off topic. You were saying?"

"Thanks. Anyway, there's a Fianna sept pretty close by. We've already been there and introduced ourselves. Apparently, it's a popular spot for Fianna tourists, since it's practically along the Scotch Whiskey trail."

"Nifty. So, since when do you know about floo travel? You were never interested in 'wizard stuff' before. Someone more compelling than little old me telling you tales?" Rachel asked, fishing for possible dirt about Sirius.

"Oh, fine. He's a demon in the sack. He was in Azkaban for twelve years, and he's been a fugitive ever since, so it'd been, like, at least fourteen years since he'd been laid. Stamina is the word, we're talking God-like levels of stamina. Add to that all the pent up rage and frustration he's working through, and my God are we talking best sex EVER."

Rachel held up her hand. "Okay, got it. So you finally managed to find a fellow sexual compulsive to date. Congratulations. What's he like out of bed?"

"The perfect playmate, that's what. What with spending most of his adult life in jail, he never really grew up. He still wants to be twenty-one, and so do I, really, so it works. All in all, most fun I've had in a decade."

So, since you were twenty-one, eh?"

"Hey, watch it there! A decade ago I was only twenty, thank you very much. Oh, I'll tell you one thing about Sirius. He loves to talk shit about your buddy, Sev. He says he feels terribly sorry for you, by the way, for having to put up with the 'greasy git'. Didn't look greasy to me, but whatever. He is in desperate need of a haircut, but so was Sirius before I cornered him with my scissors."

"I actually was hoping you could corner Severus and force a decent haircut on him. I was hoping for more sexy Goth, less creepy homeless man."

Pascale chuckled. "I could be up for that. Although, rather than cornering him, how about I ask nicely? From what I've heard, the man has, well, some issues. I think I'd be happier if he didn't hate me. But hey, enough with the talking about me, what's up with you? You know, aside from insomnia. That I figured out on my own."

"Severus, would you mind locating Pascale and Rachel? It's time we got started. I believe that's Aton and John at the door," Albus said as Molly got up to answer the door.

"Not at all Albus," Severus replied, reveling in the shock that decorated Black's face. That's right, you poncy bugger, Severus thought, I can be civil…just not to you. So ready was he to jump at a chance to get away from Black for a few minutes, Severus didn't so much as stop to wonder why Albus asked him specifically.

Not wishing for any awkward encounters with the children, Severus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he exited the room. Between the charm and the poorly lit halls, Severus managed to escape the notice of a few Weasleys on his way to Pascale's room. As expected, he heard female voices coming from within.

Perhaps he had been a spy for too long, perhaps it was too good an opportunity to gain insight into the feminine mind to pass up, or perhaps it was simply a juvenile desire to find out if they were talking about him. But whatever the reason, the hand he'd raised to knock dropped to his side and he leaned against the wall to listen…just for a moment, of course.

"Hey, I can be worried about you if I want to be. The last time you looked like you do right now was the summer after you graduated."

"I know, I know." Rachel sounded worn out and completely unguarded. He was reminded of the girl he'd seen curled in a ball on Hogwarts' lawn.

"I can't remember ever feeling so exhausted and yet wound so tight at the same time. I mean, I'm gonna be teaching Judo to a bunch of kids that aren't learning it by choice. I can't begin to predict how much it will affect their performance, but I'm certain that most will have crappy attitudes. Now, I can gain their respect; I know how to do that well enough. But that won't fix the attitude problem. How do I make them want to be there?" Rachel sighed.

"And that's something I only just started thinking about. The Acromantulas are a more pressing issue. You remember, those giant spider-y things I told you about? We're down to three weeks before school starts, but Albus has yet to make a decision about our plan. I am sooo jonesing for a decent fight against a real opponent right now. I might actually ask one of you guys to spar with me later."

Rachel paused, and began to speak in a very different tone. It was slightly husky, almost sensual. "And then, there's Severus."

"Okay, now we're talking," Pascale interrupted. "You know, I saw the way you were looking at him earlier in the kitchen, sweetie. Not that I'm surprised. I mean, if you looked up 'Rachel Ayanami's type' in the dictionary, you'd probably see a picture of Severus Snape and a description of his general personality. Seriously, he really has got quite the Trent Reznor thing goin', huh?"

Rachel giggled. "Yeah, the trench coat really adds to it too."

Severus' jaw went slack. Rachel was attracted to him? Was that what Robert tried to tell him earlier? Why he kept catching her staring at him? For a moment, he could hear nothing but white noise; he had to focus past it to catch what Pascale was saying.

"Anyway, what I want to make clear to you is that a fight is not what you need right now. You need to get laid. It's been, what, over four years since you had so much as a date? Um, mouth looks better closed, Raych."

Severus didn't know if Rachel shut her mouth at Pascale's admonition, but he could not seem to shut his own. All his energy was employed in an effort to remain upright and to hold his imagination at bay.

"Seriously, you're twenty-one now, sweetie. The virgin thing's just sad at your age."

Severus lost his battle against gravity, hitting the floor with an audible thump.

"Did you hear something?" Pascale interrupted, then paused for a moment. "Weird. Hey, you know what? Maybe it was the front door. Aton and John should be back by now; it must be about time for the meeting to start. Why don't we head down? Right, then… You just keep doing your impression of an inanimate object. Come on down when you're finished."

Severus had just managed to pull his knees up to his chest when the door opened and Pascale strolled past, missing him by mere inches. When she'd turned the corner, Severus stood and looked into the room, to see Rachel standing up as well. Arms wrapped round herself, she stepped over to the window, and leaned against the frame, apparently contemplating the view.

As Severus saw it, he had three options. He could stride into the room, apologize for eavesdropping, and deal with the consequences. But that seemed too Gryffindor an action to even contemplate. He could be a good Slytherin; walk away and file the information away until such time as he could use it to his advantage. Or he could just go with his gut instinct – snog her senseless, let her come to her own conclusions.

He removed the Disillusionment Charm and took a deep breath. He stalked across the room as Rachel raised her head. As she opened her mouth to greet him, or possibly to ask why his face was so white, he tangled a hand in her hair and brought his lips down to her own, pausing only long enough to see her eyes widen, then flutter closed in anticipation. Neither heard the gasp that sounded from the doorway a few moments later.

The kiss wasn't exactly what Severus had planned – he'd intended it to be fierce and possessive, but instead it was sweet and soft, passionate but gentle. As Rachel's arms wrapped around his neck, all conscious thought fled, and Severus lost himself in her soft, sweet mouth.