A/N: A thousand apologies for such an unforgivable delay in updating. I'm trying to balance out a writing schedule with original fiction and fanfiction at the moment, so my updates will be coming, but they'll be less frequent than before. This chapter is dedicated to all my loyal Daphne readers. I thank all of you for the alerts, favoriting and reviewing.

And I did up the rating to an "M", based on suggestions from the readers of that previous chapter. That last chapter is about as smutty as I plan on getting. A great big thanks to stella8h8chang for beta-reading this chapter for me. She is the greatest.


Chapter 30: A Mother's Lament

"I don't appreciate this interruption, Professor!"

Ginny heard the rich rolling brogue of Gryffindor's Head of House, a much welcome interruption to the vituperative words of Alecto Carrow. The Death Eater shot McGonagall a poisonous stare, aimed like a deadly curse.

McGonagall merely ignored her. "I need Miss Weasley, please."

Ginny held her breath as she watched McGonagall's face. The old witch spoke in a straightforward, emotionless manner; nothing in her eyes or visage betrayed any emotion.

(That has to be a good sign, right?)

(I'd be able to tell if any of my family had been injured.)

Ginny gathered her books and parchments and stuffed them into her book bag, not even bothering to ask Carrow for permission. Keeping her eyes planted on McGonagall, Ginny followed her out of the Muggle Studies classroom.

They walked in silence for a few paces, until Ginny could no longer stand it.

"Um, Professor—?"

"Miss Weasley." Her voice was short and clipped. "You have a visitor in my office."

"Oh?"

"Well, certainly," McGonagall snapped, "you didn't think that your little escapade in the Headmaster's office would go unnoticed by your family?"

Ginny groaned.

McGonagall continued nonplussed. "Your mother might not have sent a Howler, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have anything to say to you."

"N-no. She's not—"

"Oh yes, Miss Weasley." McGonagall pursed her lips together. "She's very much here." She opened the door to her office, looking at Ginny with an expression that left her shamed and contrite.

McGonagall made way for Ginny to step through the doorway. The girl just stood outside in the entryway.

(Scared, Ginevra?)

(Well, let's get it over with . . .)

Shutting her eyes and squaring her shoulders, Ginny stepped forward into the office to face the music. She heard McGonagall shut the door and waited—

"Ginevra – Molly – WEASLEY!"

Ginny opened her eyes and tried to smile. "Hi Mum."

It never failed; any time her mum was about to yell at her, Ginny's voice managed to squeak like a little mouse. She hated it.

"You had better come here, young lady!" Molly pointed at a seat on the couch in McGonagall's office. It was the same one that Ginny had sat on the day Neville had been tortured by Amycus Carrow.

Surprisingly, another person who had been in McGonagall's office that day was now sitting on the couch as well. Ginny barely noticed McGonagall setting Privacy and Sound-muffling charms around the office.

"Daphne?"

The Slytherin flashed Ginny an overly toothy, awkward grin. "H-hey."

(Well, at least she's in a much better state than last time—)

Molly stormed towards the girls, her face red, her nostrils flaring, her chest heaving with furious breath.

Her mum sucked in some air — and then let it rip.

"HOW COULD THE BOTH OF YOU DO THIS? YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL THAT WE'RE AT WAR! SNAPE AND THE CARROWS ARE DANGEROUS! AND YOU TWO ARE PLOTTING HEROICS, DIRECTLY DISOBEYING ME AND YOUR FATHER—"

"M-Molly," Daphne tried to cut in. "I wasn't a part of the break-in, er—"

Ginny shot her a dirty look.

(Oh, fine then! She leaves me hanging.)

"I-I mean . . . Ginny and I, we were just—"

Molly cut Daphne off with a jabbing finger. "No! I talk now, and the two of you will listentome," Her chest heaved and Ginny quailed under her stern gaze.

Molly sat down on the couch; Ginny knew that her mum was holding back some torrent of emotion; whether it was anger, fear, or sadness, or all three, she knew not. But when her mum looked at any of the Weasley children with those shaking eyes and set mouth, it meant that they were about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

This time, however, Molly averted her eyes. McGonagall took a seat away from the family and sipped her tea quietly.

"Ginny, Daphne," the elder Weasley woman began in a quiet voice, "Do you know what I do every night before I go to bed?"

Ginny looked at her mum, surprised at the change in her tone.

"I walk over to our mantle and I hold our family's clock. I count each hand, and I go through each one eight times — Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron. And yours, Ginny." Molly inhales deeply. "I set the clock down, and then I move over to the pictures above our fireplace." She extended her arm and fanned the fingers of her hand out in front of Ginny's and Daphne's faces. "I kiss the tips of my fingers and touch each picture — including one of you, Daphne, from Bill's wedding — and I tell all of you that I'm tucking you into your beds. I say that I'm kissing your foreheads and that no one will ever harm you." She brought her arm down and looked at both girls. Ginny saw her mum tremble just a little bit. "I-it's the only way I can fall asleep at night . . . wishing all of you a good night's sleep."

Ginny realized that she couldn't look at her mum anymore. She turned her eyes to the ground.

"I know it sounds silly. You're probably wondering why I do this—"

"No," Ginny heard Daphne breathe quietly.

"But," Molly gave the girls a sad little shrug and a shake of her head, "I remember what my own mother went through during the first war. She had to bury her only two sons — my brothers."

She watched the fire; the shadows from the flames danced on her face. "Gideon and Fabian — two beautiful, fiery stars that burned out too quickly. They were brash, loud, always the center of attention when they were together. Real jokers on the outside, but fighters in their hearts."

"Like Fred and George?"

The older witch smiled at Daphne. "Exactly like Fred and George." Suddenly, her face fell. "It took five Death Eaters to bring them both down." Molly bit her lower lip. "I kept telling my mother that they wouldn't want tears when they died . . . they would want someone to keep the world laughing . . . to keep all of us laughing."

She looked at the girls with moist eyes. "I watched my mum bury two sons on the same day. And every day after that, she fell apart. 'Molly,' she would say to me, 'Were they in pain? Did they need their mum with them? I would have taken it for them. I would've held them. . . .' She would sit in their bedrooms and cry to herself until Arthur and I would get her. But each time, she'd say the same thing to us — "'I just want to tuck my babies in bed. One more time.'."

She dabbed her tears away. "My mum faded away, more and more, until the day she died." She shut her eyes, but Ginny didn't have to see them to see the pain that had engulfed her.

"I have seen every single son of mine off to w-war. And," Molly took in a breath, "every day, I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a child."

Ginny gasped and sobbed and wiped at her wet face.

"There are the both of you now. And as unlikely as it may be, as difficult as it seems, all I want to do is take you both back home with me and protect you. Keep you safe." Molly sniffled. "We need to keep just one of our children safe, Ginny. And we made a promise to you," she said, turning towards Daphne, "that we would make sure no harm came to you."

"Mum."

All heads turned towards Ginny Weasley.

"It doesn't matter, though." Ginny started out in a soft voice. "Whether we're at the Burrow, or here at school. They are here too. They're everywhere. And," she exhaled deeply, "when they h-harm the other students here, even the teachers sometimes," she looked over at McGonagall, who was sitting straight up with her eyes shut, "how can I sit back and let it happen? Not do anything to help?"

Molly let a small sob escape from her. "I hate this so much, darling." She smoothed down her daughter's hair. Ginny closed her eyes as she let her mum's touch soothe her, even though she was crying in earnest too. "I hate that we're at war again.

"Molly—"

Both Weasley women turned and looked at Daphne. Ginny noted that her eyes seemed to be redder than before, and her voice had a muffled quality to it. "Molly, we're trying to do everything to stay safe. But sometimes, we've gotta f-fight back. I hate it, but who else will do it? The teachers," Daphne gestured to McGonagall, who sat still with her eyes closed, her mouth set in a trembling line, "and us. We're the only ones who can."

Ginny watched as her mum pressed her palm to her mouth, shuddering a few times. With several deep breaths, Molly evened out her breathing and slowly lowered her hand. She looked at both girls and older Scottish witch.

"I'm . . . please forgive me that, er . . . this breakdown. I needed to get it off of my chest."

"Molly, dear," McGonagall spoke up. "Do not ever, ever apologize for speaking from the heart." She looked at Ginny and Daphne. "I think that was something all of us needed to hear. I can promise you that the teachers here are doing what we can to make sure that the students are cared for. Everything we can, so long as we make sure we won't be sent to Azkaban and leave the school open to more of these monsters."

Ginny watched as her mum nodded and smiled at McGonagall through her tears. Taking in two deep breaths through her nose, Molly spread her arms out to the girls, beckoning to them to come forward.

"Girls, I need a hug. Now."

And Ginny and Daphne looked at each other, neither witch willing to argue with her. They let Molly embrace them, as tight and as long as she wanted.


Unfortunately, the detentions that Daphne had thought Ginny and the others were going to get were much different than the one that they actually got.

Snape and the Carrows escorted the students outside towards Hagrid's hut. They stopped as the half-giant gamekeeper stormed out, his hairy face clouded with barely contained fury.

Ginny held up her hands a little bit, hoping that Hagrid would keep his emotions in check.

"Hag–rid," Snape sneered. "Assist Amycus and Alecto with supervising these troublemakers during their detention. I order you, as your Headmaster, to deliver them to my colleagues," he shot the brother and sister a cruel smile, "should they be unable to follow the simplest of instructions."

Snape turned his horrible grin towards the students. "Expect some rather creative methods should you choose to disrespect them."

"Yeh venomous bast—"

"Hagrid!" Ginny and the Gryffindors all yelled at the same time, stopping him from going any further and getting himself into trouble. Which, of course, would then leave all of them at the mercy of the Carrows while in the Forbidden Forest.

Snape stomped up to him, his wand drawn and extended, and aimed right at Hagrid's chest. The two Carrows drew their wands and pointed them at the gamekeeper.

"The only reason you are still here, at his school, you brainless, savage oaf," Snape spat out in rapid manner, "is because those sympathetic to the Ministry and who are far more qualified to serve as gamekeeper are needed on the frontlines to serve our Minister's cause. Their work is far more important than some washed-up failure left over from the old - Hogwarts - regime."

He laughed coldly. "Remember that, when the time comes, and the Minister can spare the resources, that I will toss your worthless self and your foul beasts out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Help me, Dumbledore!'"

Ginny nearly lost it, as did Neville and the others. They stared at him with daggers in their eyes as he walked away.

"Gamekeeper!"

The whole group snapped their heads towards Amycus Carrow, who had strode up to Hagrid. "Take this garbage," he said, waving his hand, "deep into the Forest. Headmaster Snape has asked them to collect ingredients for Potions and Herbology. Apparently, many of the school's providers have been forced to close and shut down operations since the war began."

Hagrid growled at him in response.

Amycus turned to his sister and started speaking again. "Since they've been so eager to fight," he said, returning to Hagrid, "take them to see werewolves rumored to be at the farthest edge of the forest. That will teach them defense very – very – quick!"

Both the Carrows smiled cruelly at the entire group.

Ginny shook her head. "L-let's go," she stuttered quietly to Hagrid, trying to drag him away even as he glowered at the Death Eaters.

Once inside the Forest, the students were split into two groups, Seamus, Neville, Hannah, and Parvati in one team, Terry, Michael, and Ginny on another, and they were sent to each collect a specific set of ingredients and plants from different parts of the forest.

Ginny's team had managed to get Hagrid to supervise them. They winced in sympathy as the other team walked off further into the forest, with the two Carrows following behind them, taunting them with insults and threats of getting them all alone to curse them.

After a few moments of picking up several plants and lacewing flies that were desperately needed to shore up Potions supplies, Hagrid left to check up on the other group.

"I've got ter make sure those ruddy bastards aren't hurtin' a hair on their heads!" Hagrid whispered. "Jus' make sure yeh keep up yer work out here. Snape callin' me a savage. 'E's one ter talk, that bloodthirsty, murderous coward!"

"Hagrid, keep your voice down," Ginny pleaded. "Don't get yourself into trouble here. The students need you."

The gamekeeper nodded, his beard twitching. "Yeah. A'right . . . I hear ya. You lot all righ' here so I can go check on the others?"

The three students nodded and watched as Hagrid left to the other part of the forest where detention was taking place.

Ginny had been able to do a little more collection, but after several minutes of collecting various plants and insects and fungi, she found herself staring at a branch. For a very long time.

"Er . . . Ginny?"

"Huh?" She snapped her neck around. Michael Corner gave her an odd look.

"Oh, h-hey," Ginny said breathlessly, right as she scraped up a patch of rock moss to put in her Potions pouch. Ginny's thoughts kept traveling back to the meeting with her mum, and to the words her mum had said—

("I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a child.")

The words kept echoing in her head, over and over. They wouldn't let up. And she found her thoughts going to her friends. Would Dean Thomas' dad find nothing left of his son but his body? Would Hermione's parents return from Australia, only to attend their daughter's funeral? Would the Creeveys say goodbyes to both Colin and Dennis? Would Michael's family, safe and sound with the other refugees (and apparently Terry Boot's parents!), also bury their only son, who had sworn to fight for the cause? And, oh Godric! What about Harry?

"Um . . . you okay, Ginny?"

"Oh. Y-yeah, Michael. I'm fine—"

Michael grinned lopsidedly at her. "You don't seem fine. You seem like you're a million miles away."

She sighed. "My mum came to visit Daphne and me."

Michael winced sympathetically; he made a hissing sound through his teeth. "Yeah. I heard. Sorry."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, it started out as an in-person Howler, but . . ." she paused and collected herself, "my mum started talking about the first war and losing her brothers. She told us," she turned her eyes up to Michael, "that she feels that she is going to lose a child."

He paled, completely stunned and utterly at a loss of what to say. "Ginny, you shouldn't think—"

"Shouldn't I?" She lifted up her net to catch a lacewing fly passing by her head. "I've been doing nothing but thinking about my family, Michael." She held the squirming insect by its abdomen and placed it in her jar with the other lacewings that she had caught. " And my mum thinks about it every night, possibly every hour of every day. And . . . now, I'm thinking about my friends." Ginny gestured towards Michael with her hand.

"Me?"

She nodded. "You, my family, Dean, Colin, Hermione. Harry."

Michael's face fell despondently. "It's something I think about all the time, but in the reverse," he bounced his finger in the air. "My parents dying before I have a chance to see them again."

"Same here."

Ginny and Michael turned and saw Terry Boot, holding several jars and satchels filled with insects and plants. "I know they're safe with the other refugees, but what if something happens? What if someone turns in their location?" He worried his bottom lip. "My dad took me to my first football game, when I was five—"

Michael snorted and he laughed at his mate. "So that's where you learned all of your colorful language."

Terry punched him in the arm; his jars tinkled as they lightly banged against each other and the bugs buzzed around angrily. "Well, there and from Dad. Mum always said that I inherited her looks, but I got Dad's mouth." He shrugged and smiled warmly. "He was a lifelong Newcastle fan, y'know—"

"Terry, we all know." Terry swatted at Michael again.

After a moment, his mirth fell away and Terry bit his lip. "I keep having these dreams . . . watching the Killing Curse hit them from far away . . . me running towards them right before a Death Eater reaches them . . ." Terry shut his eyes and ran a hand through his blond hair. "I can't stop thinking about it."

Michael stared at his friend. "Hey," he reached up and grasped Terry's shoulders firmly. "Don't. You can't know what's going to happen in the future—"

"But the future became a lot easier to predict when the war started, Mike," Terry responded sadly. Michael's eyes fell to the ground, and Ginny felt her stomach churn as if scrubbing wet laundry.

"I hate to say it," she muttered, "but I think you're right." She plucked a Velieris Blossom and swirled it between her fingers before dropping it into her satchel.


The following week, Daphne Greengrass found herself sitting in the Slytherin common room in front of the large fireplace. Somehow she was able to ignore the loud din of students surrounding her. The younger first years were engaged in games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. Several of the older students were talking about Quidditch, with Orson Vaisey leading the chorus of laments that Hogwarts' season had been cancelled.

Daphne could barely ignore the disturbing sight of Crabbe and Goyle talking to several students in a large group about "Mudbloods", and something that she could only guess as "Death Eater philosophy". They had apparently found young sycophants who were all to willing to spread the same lies that she, in her articles as Miss "Nonnie Mouse", had argued against. If she canted her head just so, she could make out sentiments like, "Mudblood's are weak . . ." and " . . . we'll rid the whole world of them!"

She thought back as she had watched the students approach Crabbe and Goyle. Each one had bowed their heads, and with a sickening, Carrow-worthy smile, each had greeted them with "The purer the blood—"

Sure enough came the response. "The better the wizard."

Daphne pushed that unpleasantness out of her head, trying to clear her mind so she could return to her work. But as she watched the large flames dance in front of her face, she remembered the dimly lit office of Professor McGonagall.

And Molly Weasley.

("I feel more and more certain that I'm going to have to bury a child.")

She remembered the anguish that had filled Molly's face as she had revealed her greatest fear. But she also remembered how Molly had included her in that great big "Molly Weasley hug" as if she was a part of their family—

(Greengrass, you are!)

(No. They're just letting me live with them, stay with them because I'm a Slytherin. It helps more than hurts them to let me stay—)

(Oi! Weasley jumper, anyone? What about Arthur saying all that stuff about protecting me—)

(Only for as long as the war goes on.)

(But the Weasleys wouldn't chuck me away like rubbish. They're not like that.)

Daphne shut her eyes, forcing herself to think about more pleasant things—

Like Michael Corner. Like Michael telling her he loved her so many weeks ago.

She smiled. Those weren't words she had ever heard from another person. And true, words could sometimes simply be words. But hearing it come so nervously from his own mouth, feeling him embrace her and kissing her all over her crying face, and watching him watch her . . .

Daphne had not wanted to believe it. It was much easier to think Michael's feelings weren't real, for if they didn't exist in the first place, then nothing lost, nothing gained.

But, she felt it. She couldn't explain how, but it radiated from him. In every action, every look and every word.

It all spoke to one incredible, unbelievable conclusion: he truly was in love with her. She didn't need to hear him say it to her over and over again to believe it, too.

To put it simply, she just had to see him.

Daphne pulled out a piece of parchment, and she started writing. She waved her wand in two circles and she made several little swoops, drawing a treble clef in the air.

"Differo Altero Michael Corner!"

She cast the Dual Dialogue Charm. Hopefully, Michael was back from his detention this evening and was safe in his common room, toiling away on his own parchment or book and the writing would appear in front of him.

"Michael. Can you see me tonight or tomorrow? Daphne."

She looked at her note and smiled to herself. She really needed to teach this spell to the D.A. It would be handy to keep things confidential, as once the caster assigned a specific symbol to an individual, it located them and wrote out the message on whatever writing surface was in front of them at the time.

Daphne looked up as the sound of footsteps approached her table. Her heart gave an unpleasant thud when she noticed Pansy Parkinson's stormy look.

"What're you doing?" both girls asked simultaneously. Daphne caught the scowl that was about to appear on her face; she forced a mild smile.

That threw Pansy off-guard. "What's that?" She pointed at some unknown point around Daphne, and she took the opportunity to show a little humor.

"It's a smile, Pansy. I'm managing to smile at you."

She flinched at Daphne's comment. "Uh . . ." Pansy muttered, shaking her head. "I- . . . I, well . . . what are you doing?"

Daphne blinked. The tone of Pansy's voice seemed less sharp than before. So, she sucked in a breath and crumpled up the piece of paper, stuffing it into her bag; Michael still hadn't responded to her. "I was just trying to do some Potions. I had started when the common room was emptier than usual. But, well . . ." she swept her hand around. "As you can see, it's filled up a bit."

She peered cautiously at Pansy Parkinson, as the girl struggled with something. Pansy coughed quietly and chewed the inside of her cheek. "Er . . . you're good at Potions and Transfiguration, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Pretty good. Got an 'E' on the O.W.L.s for each."

"Hrm . . ." Pansy grunted and found a seat at the same table some ways down from Daphne. She plopped her book bag onto the wood with a loud thunk.

"Pansy, you can sit here if you want." She kicked at a chair close to her.

The glare that comment earned Daphne was enough to shut her up. She returned to her books, gingerly pulling the crumpled parchment and unfurling it quietly, looking at Pansy to make sure she couldn't see what she was doing.

"Do you know what the first step is in Animagus transformation?"

Daphne jumped; she was not expecting Pansy to ask for any help, nor was she expecting Pansy to sound so normal doing so. "Er . . . well, I-I think," she started, trying to calm her voice so she'd sound more normal, "that the witch or wizard has to start the process by first consuming the Essence of Bestiary, and you have to combine—"

"Fur for mammals, snake skin for reptiles, frog eggs for amphibians, feathers for birds, scales for fish, and . . ." Pansy's voice drifted off. "Shit! I can't remember."

"It's, um, actually two things. You can use any insect body part for insects, and spiders for, well—"

"Spiders, by chance."

Daphne gave her a lopsided smile. "Got it in one."

Pansy smiled back, but stopped herself before it could get too big.

"You're not contemplating becoming an Animagus, are you?" Daphne cocked her eyebrow at her.

"No. Of course not! Just finishing up the review for October."

"Ah." Daphne nodded, and flipped through her own book and snorted to herself. "Essence of Bestiary. Sounds as delectable as skrewt shit."

Pansy snickered. "Or sweat from a giant's ball sack."

"With a touch of Goyle's arse-cheese!"

This time Pansy guffawed, rather loudly. "Crabbe's worse. I really don't think that ape wipes!"

Daphne slammed her head on the wooden table, laughing violently. She looked up and took in a very deep breath and looked over at Pansy Parkinson, who was smiling also.

Both girls took a very long look at each other.

"Were we just—?"

"—Joking?" Pansy snorted, but this time, Daphne knew she saw some funny, humorous gleam or sparkle in the girl's eyes. "I . . . er," Pansy nodded, "yeah. We were joking."

"Well . . . that's different, innit?"

Pansy opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the door to the common room opened and three individuals wearing the long black cloaks of the Death Eaters, strode into the common room, expressions of cold, cruel arrogance covering their faces.

Daphne barely noticed the sudden silence as every student had frozen in their spot and turned to focus solely on the newest visitors. Her breath halted in her throat; she watched as Snape and the two Carrows approached her.

"Miss Greengrass, are you busy?"

"N-no sir." Daphne set her quill down and turned her parchment over. She stood up as Snape approached her table, noticing that several Slytherins around her breathed out, relieved that they weren't being summoned by the three imposing figures. She kept her eyes focused on the Headmaster rather than looking at Amycus Carrow, who was giving her a very strange expression that was making her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Ex-cellent." Snape gestured to his two colleagues. "We have been discussing the latest rash of crimes and skirmishes that have taken place in this castle. We have also found out some rather disturbing news."

Daphne looked at him, not daring to respond. Instinctively, she stood just as Snape and the two Carrows did, their arms crossed, their feet together, and her wand pressed against her left arm. She kept her eyes keyed on Snape's impassive face.

"There are numerous documents located within Madam Pince's library collection. Presently, the existence of said documents is problematic, to say the least."

"Oh?"

Snape nodded. "The contents of these documents are damaging to the creation of a wizarding society in which pure-bloods are put in their rightful place."

Daphne continued to look at him, staying silent.

"Radicals and fringe-thinkers, Sanguigeneticists who live to bring down the works of our venerated and highly honored Healer Stallsworth. Apparently, Hogwarts has been filled with their works and we knew nothing about it." Snape growled. "Collecting such pseudo-intellectual garbage was something Dumbledore found necessary." He turned towards Amycus Carrow and smiled cruelly. "However, we will be changing that very soon."

"Might I ask," Daphne kept her voice light, "what do you plan on doing with these documents?"

It was Carrow who stepped up in front of her. "We'll burn them," his face twisted into a hungry leer. "Every last sheet, every final page! All those lies about The Healer — poof!" Carrow blew on his fingertips, and Daphne stopped short of gagging on his awful breath. "We'll watch the whole thing burn!"

"However, before we get that far," Snape drawled, "we must locate and collect eachand – every – document, parchment, any book or publication that appear to reject the principles that we have sworn to uphold. Do you follow me, Miss Greengrass?"

Daphne struggled to maintain her composure, acting as if she knew nothing about what Snape was talking about. "Pardon, sir?"

"There is some indication that, since last year, a large number of these documents have disappeared. Students and staff are the only ones with access to Hogwarts' library. Since we," he said, smiling knowingly at the other Death Eaters, "have already made assurances among the staff that they do not know where the documents are, we can only conjecture students have them in their possession."

Snape drew himself up as he continued talking. "We shall investigate Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for the parchments. Al-so, several students have been disobeying a direct order of mine, banning all issues of The Quibbler since this summer."

"Sir, I know nothing about—!"

"Do – NOT – interrupt me, Greengrass! Rules are not being followed, and after today, should this behavior continue further, the Carrows will begin dispensing the old forms of punishments to the students! Now," he said, in a more calm manner, "I assume no one in Slytherin House would collect this illegal propaganda?"

"Absolutely not, Sir!" Daphne heard herself shout a little emphatically.

Alecto Carrow pushed past Snape and sneered evilly. "You think we're stupid, girl?" Daphne valiantly refrained from gagging on her rancid breath.

(Don't bloody Death Eaters practice proper oral hygiene?)

(I'll introduce the bint to floss, or Imperius her to go to a dentist—)

"We know you spend your time with that Ravenclaw boy and that blood traitor Weasley bitch!"

Daphne looked at Pansy, whose face had suddenly become stony.

"P-pardon me, P-professor Carrow, but whatever I might have had with that Ravenclaw ended the second he attacked my dorm-mate, Pansy Parkinson," Daphne nodded in the other girl's direction. "A-and I can't help the fact that the Weasleys took me in so that I could have a home while I finish up school. If anything, they've been really good to me."

"They're associates of Undesirable No. One—"

"D-do you think that family w-wants anything to do with that wizard," Daphne stuttered but tried to retain her composure, "after he broke their daughter's heart? I think he's a fool and an idiot!"

She had to spit out the last word, lest she fear it would peter out into nothingness.

Snape held his arm up between Alecto and Daphne. "We are not here to question Miss Greengrass' loyalties, which I have no qualms with. Rather, we are here to assign her and Mister Malfoy jobs."

Daphne's eyes scanned all three faces.

"Alecto, Amycus, I'm sure that the school could do with the two of you on patrol this evening."

"Does that mean we can play, Snape?"

To Daphne's great disgust, Snape grinned coldly in response. "It does indeed, Amycus." Snape faced Daphne once again. "Miss Greengrass and I shall handle both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor under my supervision. Mister Malfoy shall take care of Hufflepuff."

Snape waved his hand at her. "Well, go and fetch the Head Boy and bring him downstairs! We have work to do tonight."

"Yes sir!" Daphne forced herself to give Snape a bow from her waist, and ran up the stairs towards the boys' dormitory. Once she had turned the corner of the stairwell, and was out of sight of the three Death Eaters, Daphne reached into her pockets for her D.A. Galleon and her wand, and started tapping away at her second message of the evening—

"Carrows, Snape, Malfoy raid on Gryff., Huff., Raven. In minutes! Hide everything!"