A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I just wanted to get this done and posted before I go to bed so here you go!

Fic Recommendation: To lazy to remember one. I WILL be posting up a new fic soon called Flesh of the Enemy, Forcibly Taken which is, as the title suggests, a different way that ritual could have occured, and the consequences it would have on Harry and co. Once I get around to typing the first chapter. I am also considering starting a fic called Kill You With A Kiss. Go ahead and try to guess what that's about, I look forward to your speculations.

Once again, thanks to UnknownUnseenUnheard and KCWROX. I don't own. ENJOY!

Chapter Nine: There's something about that teacher...

Ron

I awake to Harry screaming. Again. Really, really loudly. Another nightmare. I jump out of my bed and run over to Harry's, yanking back the curtains. The other boys in our dorm mumble sleepily, wondering what's going on. Another, blood-curdling shriek from Harry jolts them all awake.

"Harry! Harry!" I yell, shaking his shoulder in a desprate attempt to wake him up. His screams go louder, his arms flailing out, one fist slamming into my cheek as his thrashes about. I yelp and jerk back in surprise, Harry certainly had a strong punch, even asleep.

When had that happened?

"HARRY!"

"AHHH!"

He jolts awake suddenly, sitting bolt upright. All is quiet for a moment.

"S-sorry," Harry, stammers, looking down in-what? Embarrassment? Fear? Nervousness?

"For what?" Seamus asks.

"Y'know...waking you up...I'll put some silencing charms on my curtains, that way you won't wake up next time..."

"You have these nightmares often?" Seamus asks, and I can tell he's already re-thinking what he said to Harry earlier, about Voldemort not being back, and Harry probably getting into an accident of some kind, then blaming the scars on the Death Eaters.

I had wanted to punch him. Harry had held me back, told me quite plainly that Seamus wasn't worth it, then calmly gone back to eating his dinner.

"Every night," Harry says. "I'll put up those silencing charms then?" he asks, probably in an attempt to break the awkward silence. He grins half-heartedly, then waves his wand at the curtains, sleepily mumbles an incantation, then sinks back into bed.

"Night. Sorry for waking you up," Harry mumbles, before rolling over onto his side.

Now, this may sound stalkerish, but after years of sleeping in the same dorm as someone, you tend to pick up on some of their habits. One random thing I'd noticed about Harry is that he always slept on his back. Why did he suddenly switch to sleeping on his side?

I brush it off as some injuries bothering him or something, before yanking his curtains shut again and returning to my bed.

Harry

Wonderful. I just had to forget the silencing charms and wake up everyone in the dorm. How embarrassing.

Though maybe Seamus believed me more now. Not that I cared...no of course not. I didn't care that he thought I was a liar, not at all. That was not disconcerting in any way, shape, or form.

What was disconcerting was the stupid nightmare I'd just had. Of floating ghost-like over a coffin as it slowly descended into the earth, my friends standing around the grave, crying. Sirius had looked so utterly lost and hopeless, broken. I had called out, trying to console them. But I suddenly found myself being pulled down, down, through the lid of the coffin into the small, dark space. I found myself alive again, living, breathing.

But not for much longer unless I can get out of here...

I called out, thinking that someone would hear me and pry open the lid, and then we'd all have a tearful reunion before running off happily into the sunset. But once again, no one could hear me. I screamed out desprately, and started clawing at the inside of the coffin, begging for someone to open it and let me out.

"I'm alive, I'm alive! Let me out, I'm alive!"

But all I could hear was dirt falling on the top of the coffin. And I had been alone in the darkness, trapped, suffocating, unable to move, utterly helpless as I was buried alive.

Stupid subconcious, was my last thought, before I once again sank into darkness.

I dig into my bacon hungrily, before noticing Hermione staring at me. I swallow, before turning to her.

"What?"

"I've never even see Ron eat so much, and that's saying something!"

I swallow again, this time from nervousness. What am I supposed to say? Well Hermione, I'm a genetically-engineered mutant freak who burns more calories than the average person.

Yeah, no.

I smile reassuringly at her.

"Just a side-affect of starving for two months, I guess. Have to eat every speck of food I can lay my hands on."

She laughs nervously.

"We have defense first," she says tentatively, remembering what I'd said yesterday about the new teacher. Professor Umbridge. What a ridiculous name.

"What makes you so paranoid about her anyway?" Ron asks, stuffing his mouth with food.

"Just a feeling," I say. Call it Mutant's Intuition, if you will. "And it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you."

I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

"Come on," I say. "I have a feeling we really don't want to be late to class."

Hermione

What Harry said about starvation making his appetite bigger? Theoretically, two months of starvation would have made him accoustamed to less food, making him eat less as a result.

Not more.

As a matter of fact, eating too much after a period of starvation can cause death. But here Harry was, packing away more food than ever before, no problem. What. The. Heck?

Hiding something, hiding something, hiding something. It was a constant chant in my ear as we walked to DADA. I had gotten the exact same feeling with Professor Lupin in third year, and even with Professor Quirrel. I just hadn't brought it up because it had seemed so...unlikely that Quirrel of all people was hiding a dark secret.

We took our seats, in the back, at Harry's direction.

I trusted his 'feeling.' It had saved our backsides on multiple occassions. True, it had gotten us in trouble about as many times, but...

Win some, lose some.

"Good morning class."

With mixed results.

"Now, now, that won't do. When I say 'good morning class' I want you to say 'good morning Professor Umbridge.' Good morning class."

"Good morning Professor Umbridge." We chant.

I can't help but think of those T.V. shows for 5-year-olds, where the people on screen 'talk to you' and expect you to repeat everything you say.

I had hated those shows.

She then proceeds to tell us that we basically won't be learning any defensive magic at all. I, as well as many others, start protesting, which leads to Umbridge reminding us to raise our hands.

Harry remains silent. Of all people, I would think he's be the one arguing agains her the loudest. Not staying quiet.

I nudge him with my elbow. Or more accuratley, try to. He flinches away so violently that I miss him and almost fall out of my seat.

"Sorry," he muters, catching me and setting me back on my chair. He's looking down, face flushed with embarrassment. I focus rigedly on the empty blackboard, trying not to think of what must've happened to him to cause him to react so violently to a simply nudge.

Umbridge seems to be staring at Harry, as though trying to goad him into fighting back. He meets her gaze with a blank expression, and for a moment, something seems to pass between them, a mutual hatred.

And from Umbridge there seemed to be a kind of gloating. As though she knew something that none of us did. As though she was pulling at the strings of fate, manipulating them to meet her own ends. Harry and I seem to be the only ones who notice, before she turns to reprimend Dean Thomas for not raising his hand.

When the bell rings, I can't get out of the classroom fast enough.

A/N: Eh, not my best work. I have just finished writing the screenplay for a short movie me and my friends are making, which will be out in July and on YouTube shortly after. I'll post up the link to the video when it's up.

Please review, tell me what you think Blinded by a Kiss will be about, and tell me what I can do to improve.

-Winged Quill