AN: I know this story seems to be going every which way, but I'm trying to make it as energetic and interesting as possible. I promise EVERYTHING ties back together in the end. I have everything mapped out, I know exactly what is coming next (who is dying, who is not, etc. etc.) So please just be patient and keep reviewing, I love the response. More will be coming. Again, Disclaimer, this is all property of JK Rowling.

Onto the chapter!!!

Marcy fidgeted restlessly in her seat on the Hogwarts Express a day later, her feet cramping from a lack of blood circulation and movement. They had been stalled for some unknown reason when leaving the station and they were almost twenty minutes behind in their normal schedule.

Abbie, who had cut her long ebony hair pixie short, was twirling a pencil in her fingers as she talked animatedly about Joseph Whitney and the way their relationship had progressed over the remainder of the year and summer holiday. He had disposed of his glasses, fixed his overbite, and was adamantly at work on his new library system. Marcy regretted it, but she had tuned Abbie out well over an hour ago.

The train had been bustling since the moment she, Julian, Michael, and Andrew had stepped across the gleaming scarlet shell. Crooning girls surrounded the Head Boy with a newfound admiration for his attractive looks and the Quidditch team had immediately cornered Marcy, demanding to know if they would return for next season. They had lost the cup to Slytherin for the first time in years due to their absences and the captain, a boy she had met at tryouts, was adamant about reclaiming their victory. Abbie and Charlie had found her, dragging both Marcy and Michael into their small compartment to tell stories of the months they had spent apart. Charlie's had been short and to the point, briefly mentioning to Marcy through a loud yawn that he had missed her terribly. Michael had left to go visit with Jacob Jordan and to make sure Julian had settled comfortably with his friends. It was then that Abbie had started on her Joseph tantrum, and had yet to stop.

"…honestly I don't know why his professors don't value his work more. Vector should be so pleased with the strides he's made…"

"So how are you doing Marcy?" Charlie interrupted loudly, flipping a piece of his cornstalk hair out of his face, "It must have been cool living in that old house…"

Marcy was grateful for the interruption and nodded, "I guess. Sirius Black lived there once upon the time." Abbie looked up at her with a mixture of curiosity, "Apparently, they used it for Order Headquarters during the second war, although I'm not really sure what the Order was…"

"Order of the Phoenix," Abbie interrupted, her violet eyes studying Marcy as though the information should have been common knowledge, "It was a group of individuals from the first war dedicated to the fight against You-Know-Who. They reinstated the group when the Ministry of Magic was failing to pursue him during the second war. Some of the most legendary Aurors of all time were involved." She stopped for a second, "Your mum was a part of it. As was Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ron Weasley. Of course, so was Harry Potter. I'm surprised that they would still use the headquarters after it disbanded."

"Well, they still have meetings," Marcy mumbled, "Once grandpa…err…the Minister passed, they moved us there almost immediately. People were always coming in and out." An awkward silence fell over the trio, giving Marcy the distinct impression that one of them was burning to ask a question but suppressing the urge. She gave them both a hard look, causing Abbie to sigh loudly and pull out an old and wrinkled copy of the Daily Prophet from underneath her sea. Abbie handed the paper to Marcy and settled her eyes on the uninteresting ceiling. Charlie averted his to the dancing mermaids on the carpeted floor.

MINISTER DIES MYSTERIOUSLY, MALFOY CHILD FAINTS, MAYHEM PROCEEDS AT ST. MUNGO'S

The remainder of the article was smeared and unreadable from constant usage, but Marcy could see a strange picture of the waiting room from the night her grandfather had died. In it, photo Marcy (who had been sitting in a rickety waiting room chair) suddenly closed her eyes and began to shake before becoming completely still and sliding like water onto the floor. Photo Andrew caught her, an unusual amount of concern etched all over his black and white face, and in the briefest of moments photo Marcy was conscious and obviously telling the surrounding witnesses of the death.

"Someone took that picture," Abbie said quietly, "It had the communities up in arms. They thought maybe you were poisoned or something. I think the entire Wizarding world thought that it was under attack. Charlie stood by the window all day, afraid we'd get a second article saying you'd died." Marcy saw a faint blush creep up in Charlie's cheeks at the mention of his fear, but she chose to ignore it.

"I had the funniest dream when that happened," Marcy muttered to herself more than to Abbie, "I didn't even notice I passed out. One minute I'm sitting in the chair and the next I'm in the room watching him die. He looked so…so vulnerable. Everyone was standing around hushed and worried and trying to save him," she stopped and sucked back a tear, one of the few she had shed over his passing, "I woke up and just knew he was gone."

Abbie looked at her thoughtfully before getting up quietly and closing the compartment door. She leaned forward onto her knees as she sat back down, excitement and fear dancing in her eyes as she ushered for Charlie and Marcy to lean forward. She whispered, "Marcy…do you think you might have astral projected?"

Charlie laughed as Marcy shot Abbie an inquisitorial look, which had her whisper angrily, "Oh really do you not read? Astral Projection is an out of body experience. Your astral body moves into an astral plane that runs parallel to ours. You get to have two bodies for a little while, one that is conscious and moving, another that is in a dream-like trance. It's a very rare gift. While new witches think that maybe it can be trained, most of the original studies done on astral projection proved it was inherited." Her eyes glazed over with newfound excitement as she continued, "Was your mother able to astral project? It normally runs in families."

Marcy shrugged, "I wouldn't know. Mum didn't like to talk about it. Are you sure this is what I did? It was a one time thing…and it didn't feel like I had two bodies"

"Your that age now Marcy," Abbie interjected, "It isn't too surprising that this would come about. Oh Marcy, you have no idea how exciting this is. Few witches with the power to astral project ever wrote down their experiences. No one really knows how much power the astral body possesses or, for that matter, if you could somehow control your real body. Just think of all the things you could research and learn!"

Marcy felt suddenly sick to her stomach. There was too much flying at her too fast, Arthur Weasley, missing school, the Order, Grimmauld Place, her father's sudden reappearance, and now her new 'power'. She felt like her head was spinning, picking up speed faster and faster as new things were thrown in her direction. The Wizarding world, which had seemed vast and endless to begin with, was suddenly growing in depth and confusion, "I…I have to go to the loo," she muttered out from under her breath and pushed past her two best friends.

She did not bother to look where she was going as she found the loo doors and pulled on the handle. She did not bother to look in the stalls as she closed the door behind her and rushed to the sinks, plunging her hands into the cool water and spraying her face. Makeup that Aunt Hermione had let her borrow flowed down her face as the water drenched the lids of her eyes and the corners of her mouth, but she merely scrubbed it away. Long lines of black fell down her cheeks like snail tracks and pooled at the base of her chin in weird splotchy puddles. She looked a mess.

The click of a lavatory door startled her and she spun around too quickly, tripping over her long robes with her right foot. Marcy did not have the chance to grab behind her for the sink as she started to fall over, bracing herself for a hard crash into the black and green tiles of the loo floor. However, she was startled to land instead with a heavy 'thawump' into the open arms of a very cushiony boy.

The fact that a boy had caught her did not reach her mind for a few long moments as she took in his lean arms and broad shoulders. His hair was hanging over his worry-filled eyes and his lips were parted in a smirking grin as he held her close.

"Andrew," Marcy breathed out, not realizing she had been holding it, "I…I'm in the boys loo aren't I…"

He nodded and laughed slightly, a warm gush of air playing across the bridge of Marcy's nose, "You okay Mar?" he asked, the sudden comfort of their relationship returning after months of awkwardness. Although he moved to right her he did not let go of her arms, his hands falling into a comfortable rest against the small of her back, "You look like hell."

"Yeah well, I just learned something," she responded, pulling out of his arms to sit Indian style on the floor. He followed suit, sitting comfortably across from her so that their knees barely touched, "Remember when I passed out when…when…grandfather died?" Andrew nodded and she grasped his hand and gave it a tiny squeeze, "Abbie seems to think I astral projected into the room. That I somehow…split myself into a different body that could move freely of this one"

Andrew whistled a long breath out between his teeth and settled his eyes on hers, "That's…I'm sure she's mistaken. You just can't astral project without knowing how. Besides, there hasn't been a documented witch or wizard with the ability to do it in…well…since forever"

"But that's what she's thinking and she's Abbie…she's never really wrong." Marcy rebutted. She sighed loudly and felt tears welling up in her eyes, "I don't want this thing, this astral projection thing. It just makes me more of a freak. Back at Highland Developing they always made me out to be some sort of strange…mutation. Look at me. I can't even live normally in the world I'm really from…"

Andrew shushed her loudly, spun her around so her back was to him, and pulled her close, allowing her to settle into his large chest and curl across his abdomen. He ran his fingers through her hair gently as she cried and murmured over and over how she was not a freak at all.

"I'm sorry I'm blubbering," she gulped out between tiny sobs, "Its real silly of me. We didn't talk for months and here I am, being a stupid 14 year old brat…"

"Mar common now…"

"No really Andrew, we haven't had a decent conversation since the Yule Ball," she mustered up, pushing some tears off her face with his pants leg, "You didn't even tell me you made Head Boy. Things got all strange and I don't know why and yet, I still come here and cry to you like a baby because…because…"

"Because…" he pushed.

"Because that's what friends do I guess, even silly ones like us," she said. His muscles tensed at the word friend and she wondered to herself if maybe she had only imagined it.

She turned her head up then and was startled to find him staring at the spot where the crown of her head had been, his face contorted in an odd way, "Andrew…"

"Mar there's something I should tell you…" he started, "Something my dad told me last night before we left."

"Is it real important?" she interrupted, "because if it isn't, I don't know if I can handle anymore information today."

He shook his head no and held her some more. It felt like hours, although she knew that the minutes must have been passing by slowly for no one had come looking for her yet. She wiped her eyes one more time before pulling out of his embrace, slightly taken aback by the lack of heat she felt as she pried herself away from him. She brushed off her robes and fixed her face as best she could as he readjusted his own clothes.

"So…later then?" she asked as she went to open the door.

"Maybe we should leave at different times," he suggested, suddenly looking flummoxed by the words he had said far too quickly, "I mean…so people don't think…"

"Okay," Marcy responded, "You first?" He nodded and, awkwardly, pulled Marcy into one last embrace, "I'm sorry…" he mouthed into her hair before moving back…

His face was suddenly too close to hers, moving at a motion she was not quite sure of, and she turned her head to move away from it. But her angle was all wrong and the kiss that had been initially intended for her curvy cheek bone landed on her bottom lip by mistake.

Marcy froze, unsure what to do. Her eyes slid closed out of natural instinct and she felt Andrew, whose whole body had tensed on the contact, pull back only slightly. What sounded like a sigh, from whom she was not quite sure, filled the loo and, almost instantly, the space between their lips disappeared and he was against her again.

His lips were chapped but deliciously delicate as he pressed them against hers, never once searching for entrance she was not sure she was ready to give. The breath from his nose was falling against hers and he was holding her close against him as he kissed her shortly once, twice, three times.

They pulled apart, almost reluctantly, and comprehension of what had happened dawned on both of their faces as their eyes locked.

I just kissed Andrew Potter.

"I uh…I should go…right…" Andrew said, almost frazzled, and quickly sidestepped out of the door.

Marcy touched her fingers to her lips gingerly and sighed loudly to the now empty lavatory. Things for her fourth year had certainly turned around.