Alright, so I'm a horrible person. I was just about to update chapter eight, when I realized there was a chapter missing. Which is weird, cause I swear I can remember uploading this, but I went through and it's not there. So pretty much, this is the lost chapter.

I sighed as I sat on my bed, flipping through a magazine as I tried desperately to get my mind off my recent flying lesson. I had yet to get the broom to listen to my commands, and Susan was obviously at her wit's end by the time we'd been trying for a half an hour. After a total of an hour of lessons, two temper tantrums, and one broken broom as a result of said temper tantrums, Susan suggested I go talk to my lover, Professor Wood.

Needless to say, I ripped what little hay was still on the broom off of it, jumped on the remains, and then kicked them out the door, yelling 'that's what I think of my goddamn lover!' That's how I ended up here, in my room, ripped pieces of hay still stuck under my fingernails, a splinter in my forearm that I'm trying to ignore, and an old magazine my only distraction from my failure with a broom.

I heard a quiet knock on my door, and I smiled when I looked up and saw Siren. She smiled at me, her left dimple hidden by the shadows the sun cast on her. "Hey."

"Hey," I responded, throwing my magazine to the side and picking at the splinter as Siren came to sit on the bed.

"Susan is freaked about your freak out. She thinks she's a horrible teacher."

"She's not a horrible teacher," I said bitterly, "Brooms are a horrible invention. Things without wings were not meant to fly."

Siren smirked at me as I crossed my arms, "Why don't you just go ask Professor Wood for help? He's a pretty cool guy - he watched our class yesterday, when Hagrid was out. He seemed pretty decent."

"He's a jerk-off, idiotic, macho-man wanna-be, Quidditch-crazed freak."

Siren only laughed in response, "No, he's a pretty smart guy."

"Oh, well if you say so, he must be a saint," I spat sardonically.

"Hey," Siren said, obviously offended, "He's no saint or anything, I know that-"

"Well, you'd never guess by the way you're going on about him."

"I don't want to fight," Siren said, standing and heading for the door, "So see ya. Come talk to me when you're sane again."

I ground my teeth together as I glared at the back of Siren's head as she walked out of my room, meeting Tom in the hallway. He smiled at her, which would've surprised me if I wasn't pissed off. I heard Siren giggle before she descended the stairs and left my sight.

Tom leaned into my door, tapping on my doorframe, "Partner?"

"What," I snapped.

"Oh, feisty," Tom said, smirking at me.

"Can it," I nearly growled, "I'm not in the mood. Tell me what you need and get out."

"We need to go over the schedules for the prefects on-duty this week and get the announcements out to be posted."

"Can we do this later?"

"You have ten minutes," Tom said, looking extremely stern.

I thought about arguing that I didn't have time, but thought better of it. If I learned anything about Tom after dating him for two years, it's that if he's being strict, it's because he got a bad grade and is 'buckling down.' And if he got a bad grade... just, don't get in his way.

Absent-mindedly, I started to rub my side. I wondered whether or not I should go now and get the work over with, but decided that letting Tom have some time alone to cool off would be a better choice. So, ten minutes of freedom. Wonder what I can do...

Without a second thought, I felt my bones start to mesh and my hair start to fade into feathers. In almost no time, a falcon sat in my place on my bed, and I took off towards my continuously-open window.

The afternoon had brought the sun and the lawn was bright and full, mostly with friends and couples sitting in large groups and laughing so loudly that I could hear them. Uninterested in the common sight, I tilted my wings to follow an air current towards the southern end of the castle.

After a few minutes, I perched on the horn of a gargoyle, looking lazily over the landscape. The south lawn was mostly abandoned, except for one small student close to the edge of the woods. Interested to see what he was doing, I flew closer.

Finding a comfortably shaded spot among the tree branches, I watched the boy with interest. He was only a first year, I realized, but he was already working with a broom. A Hufflepuff, he seemed to be having trouble getting the broom to listen to his 'up' command.

I could hear him screaming the command quite clearly. He repeated it incessantly until I wished he would just give up, until his the hoarseness of his voice was getting hoarse and much longer than the ten minutes I'd been allotted. But what is Tom gonna do? He'll be fine by himself for a while.

I sat on the branch for almost a half hour, watching the boy. I was so concentrated on the dormant wood that I jumped when the boy finally summoned the broom. My eyes shot immediately to his face, which was obviously overjoyed. Even he seemed amazed at his own accomplishment.

The verbal reaction was delayed, but just as obviously jubilant. Screaming in victory, the boy took off running towards the Quidditch Pitch. Following him, I circled above the boy as he banged on the door.

"Professor Wood! Professor Wood!" The boy's screaming was relentless and gritty, and I was relieved when the door opened. "I got it! I got it to come up!"

I heard a deep laugh, "Excellent, Gregory. I'm very proud of you!"

"Let me show you," the boy, Gregory, exclaimed. I watched as Gregory dropped the broom, "Up!"

Both of the boys' faces lit up when the broom lifted gracefully into Gregory's hand, "That was brilliant!"

"Thanks, Professor."

"I'll be expecting you to show the rest of them in class, then," Wood said, obviously smiling down at the boy.

"Yes sir," Gregory responded, "Good day, sir." At that, the boy ran up the hill.

I heard Oliver laughing as I started to fly away. I guess he saw me, because I faintly heard him mutter, "Why does that bird have an anklet on?"

I flew back to my room, through my open door and down into my small, private common room, where Tom was muttering to himself angrily and scribbling furiously on his paper. I landed lightly on the back of the couch next to him, laughing inwardly when he jumped because I crowed.

He glared at me, "Do you know how late you are, you stupid bird-brained-"

I cawed again, taking off towards the door to our common room. Not gonna stay if you talk that way to me-

"Hey," Tom called, laughing as he caught my gist. Diving, he grabbed a tail feather and pulled me down.

He found me my laughing, teenage self by the time I hit the floor. Seeing that boy's success put me in a good mood, and I'd always loved messing around with Tom. It's why we lasted so long as a couple.

It seemed that Tom was thinking of the same thing as he crawled over me, laughing with me and smiling down at me. Oh, don't, I thought, dreading the idea of kissing him. Actually, I dread the aftermath of kissing him.

But I knew I couldn't stop him if he wanted, and so I let him kiss me. It was a soft, almost shallow kiss. No different than a million kisses we'd shared before. Taking a long, calming breath through my nose, I pushed Tom up gently.

His eyes locked with mine as he pulled away, obviously feeling that it was his choice to. We were both speechless. Well, I was speechless, Tom just didn't think he had to speak first. He was waiting for my confession of passion, of needing, and a bunch of other shit.

Of course, as tends to happen when things aren't going my way, Professor Wiggins walked into the room, obviously with some announcement he wanted us to make. He seemed startled by what he found, but turned out and walked away in a hurry.

Tom raised his eyes to look at the teacher, who I'd just heard gasp. I know it was Professor Wiggins because he's the only one who wouldn't stop us before he went to get the Headmaster. He felt the need to let students be caught in the act.

"Shit," Tom muttered as I pushed him off of me, his eyes still glued to the door.

Tom and I had gone into this year knowing that if anything happened between us, we'd be removed of our post, forced back into our respective dorms, and probably serve about a year's worth of detention. Really - if it happened at the end of the year McGonagall would make us serve it through the summer, into next year.

Simultaneously, Tom and I pushed ourselves off the ground and started for the door, both pushing and hoping to get to Wiggins before the other. I guess I should've just let Tom go, because Wiggins listens to Tom and it was obviously Tom's doing.

But I ran after Tom, cursing my short legs as I attempted to race him. Our room was only a few corridors away from McGonagall's office, and it didn't take long for us to arrive at the wooden statue, still descending from Professor Wiggins' climb.

"Iguana," Tom called, emulating my usual behavior as he called the password from down the hall.

We got there just in time to run up the stairs, Tom leading the way, and burst through the door.

"Professor, it's not what you think," I cried, stumbling over Tom as he stopped short. I fell on the ground at Professor Wiggins' feet as he looked down at me smugly.

"It isn't," Professor McGonagall questioned, seemingly bewildered at my behavior. "Please, tell me what isn't what I think."

"Uh," I said, unsure of how to respond. Had Professor Wiggins not proclaimed the news with a joyous voice when he walked into the room? Had a cake specially made on his way over by the kitchen?

"She was kissing Mr. Worthington," Wiggins said, resembling a two year old with a mountain for a nose from my angle as he pointed at me.

"He was kissing me," I protested, "And it meant nothing. It was a fluke."

"A fluke," Tom questioned, sounding amazed. Annoyed at his behavior, which suggested that we might get back together, I kicked him in the shin. "Ow," Tom muttered.

"See! And she abuses him," Wiggins proclaimed.

"I do not abuse him!"
"She does not abuse me!"

"Don't stick up for me," I hissed at Tom, worried about the image we were projecting to McGonagall and the repercussions when he and I were alone again. He might think I owe him something.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall proclaimed. I arched my neck to see her upside-down, but obviously annoyed, "I still have not been told in a clear, calm voice what is going on."

"We weren't kissing, Ally was showing me-" Tom broke off, looking down at me for help. Of all Tom's subjects, BSing was not one he passed.

"How to wrestle," I blurted out, not knowing what else we could do in that position.

"Lies," Wiggins cried out, pointing at me, "She had him pinned!"
"I beg your pardon," Tom said, feigning offense, "But I had her pinned."

"Why," Professor McGonagall questioned, ignoring the extraneous information and cutting off any retort from Professor Wiggins, "Were you two wrestling?"

"Well," I started, my mind searching for possibilities that Tom would catch on easily to. If he had to think of something himself, we'd be screwed.

"I saw wrestling on one of those picture-boxes in London over the summer-"

"And," I finished, "He was interested in how you'd do it. My second cousin, who is also my godfather, is a wrestler, so I told him I'd show him some moves. You know, buddy-to-buddy."

McGonagall sat tight-lipped at her desk, mulling over what we said for a moment, "You two know the rules of your sharing of a common room."

"Yes, m'am."

"We met at the beginning of the year, and you both assured me that your relationship was over, and that I would have no trouble from either of you. Now, I want no more of this wrestling business in my school, is that clear?"

"Yes, m'am."

"Good, now be on your way."

Tom leaned down to help me up as Professor Wiggins started on his temper-tantrum, "What? That's all? Why, I mean no-"

"Come on," Tom whispered, "Let's just go." I nodded and followed Tom down the stairs and into our common room.

"That was a rush," Tom cried excitedly as we made it back into our common room, "I've never lied to a teacher before! I feel so... invigorated!"

Tom used his invigoration to grab me around the waist and plant a sloppy kiss on my lips. Trying not to be disgusted, both with his lack of lying and his wet kiss, I pushed Tom off.

"Tom, no, that kiss was a one-time thing," I said, sitting on the couch and grabbing a hold of Tom's previous scribblings, "We need to do our work, now." I didn't need to look up at Tom to know that he was angry. Without another word, he jumped up, grabbing the floor of the area in front of his room and pulling himself up. "Where are you going?"

"I worked for almost an hour by myself, you can do the same!"

I sighed, muttering incoherently to myself as Tom slammed the door. Today may have been an official disaster with only one small glint of a good thing - that boy, Gregory. Because of him, I think I've found inspiration to actually work at the broom until I get it. The joy on his face was so contagious, but I felt left out that I couldn't share it with him, relate to him.

Resolved in my determination both to translate Tom's scribbles into a coherent schedule and to learn to ride a broom and join the exclusive club, I leaned over the table, smiling to myself.