Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed. I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
Past Is Gone for Good

Draco reluctantly offered Hedwig a strap of bacon and Hedwig accepted it with an indifferent air. At Draco's visible relief, however, she made a joyous clicking sound and hopped from one leg to the other.

"Do you think she's gone mad?" Draco whispered. Hedwig hooted. She seemed to be enjoying his uneasiness. Draco looked at his friends. They didn't seem to have noticed him. Neville was watching the staff table with a curious look and Hermione was turned towards the further wall.

"I wonder where Ginny is," she muttered while scanning the occupants of the Gryffindor table. She was so concentrated on looking for the redhead that she completely missed a first-year boy who approached their little table.

"Excuse me," he said politely, "but can I ask you something?" Hermione and Neville snapped to attention. There was a small boy with ridiculously big eyes and a shy smile standing before them.

"Of course you can," Hermione smiled. She had liked being a prefect. It had meant more to her than just a fancy badge and she felt responsibility for the younger students even if it wasn't her job to look after them.

"Ask whatever you like," Draco added. "We'll answer whatever we like." The boy laughed shortly and fidgeted nervously.

"We were just curious... why are the three of you sitting here on your own?" After a brief pause, Neville tried to answer:

"We were in a war last year and didn't make it to school, so we got this fancy table to nurse our wounds and hurt feelings," he mixed the truth with a bit of self-mockery.

"And we got a fancy plaque saying we were veterans," Draco pointed at the plaque over his shoulder. The boy read it.

"It says Patchwork," he said. The boys whipped around and stared at the wall. The plaque remained brass and did, indeed, read Patchwork in neat and even letters.

"It's creepy to be a veteran before twenty," Hermione said curtly.

"Oh - okay. Thank you." The boy turned around and joined his friend, a cute girl, no doubt to share the newly learnt knowledge.

"Hermione!" Draco and Neville echoed. The young witch turned pink and started playing with a napkin.

"I just hope McGonagall won't be angry," Draco teased.

"She'll hardly notice," Neville guessed. "I mean, we didn't. Why should she?" They glanced at the staff table where the Headmistress was engaged in a vivid discussion with Professor Sprout.

"Hey, seems Tisha has made up with Snape!" Draco exclaimed. The two professors were chatting quite amicably, the easiness in their body languages betraying it despite them not looking at each other.

"Strange," Neville commented. "Severus didn't seem very friendly last night." He saw Professor Sprout getting up and finished his juice. "When did you say you have the Potions class? Five?" he asked quickly, getting up.

"Yeah. Why, will you miss us?" Draco asked, cocking his head playfully.

"Terribly," Neville assured him. "See you." He walked briskly out of the hall, skillfully evading the other students.

"Methinks he's in love with Professor Sprout," Draco explained to the ladies. Hedwig flapped her wings to show she disagreed and Hermione shook her head.

"They are probably going to grow something big," she guessed less wildly. "And I am going to..."

"... the library," Draco finished. He had learnt a lot about Hermione.

"You can come with me, if you promise to be good and quiet," the girl added in a patronising tone.

"So sorry - I have some very loud plans for the morning!"

Minerva approached Moody in his office ten minutes before the first period started.

"Why would you think someone hexed you?" he exclaimed, sounding alarmed. "Do you have any queer feelings? Sit down here." He started running simple tests on her.

"I woke up this morning and couldn't remember how I got in bed," Minerva explained. "This has never happened to me before. I don't feel hexed, but I want to be sure."

"You don't remember yesterday evening?" Moody asked with a soft smile. He put away his wand and took Minerva's hands in his. "My dear Minerva, you were so tired you were practically asleep on your feet. There's nothing wrong with you." Minerva scrutinised his face and noticed his warm expression, intent eyes and half-opened mouth for the first time.

"What exactly happened yesterday evening?" she asked coolly. Moody seemed being taken aback.

"Why - you were dead on your feet, Minerva, so I made you supper and accompanied you to your rooms," he answered. Unconsciously he pressed her hands together and she jerked them out of his grasp.

"Well, thank you for your trouble, Professor," she said very formally, standing up. "I can look after myself." She felt, all of sudden, threatened in an unknown way, unsure and confused. She had never noticed anything unprofessional in Moody's behaviour, but judging by his surprised expression, it had been there and she had to consider her options.

There was, of course, no way she could give in to Moody's gentle hints, she thought as she was walking briskly to the Transfiguration classroom. It wouldn't do - it would be absolutely improper - besides, as a woman, she didn't even feel that way for him. She considered Moody a friend at the very best, and she had to consider him as a member of her staff now.

It occured to her Moody wasn't interested in teaching itself and she had to be prepared for him giving her a notice now - maybe not right away, he had given her a word... in a way... but Moody wouldn't stick to teaching, she knew, especially since he was interested in her and was going to realise very soon teaching at Hogwarts would get him to her proximity, efectively barring him from being noticed as a man.

Now if she could make him become interested in teaching itself... Minerva knew Moody had considerable talent for teaching. He knew what was important, was able to explain it very simply and efectively, he had natural authority and could gain the children's respect easily. He had both the education and the experience, was mature enough for the job, but remained young in the heart just enough to understand the students where they required understanding. He was, indeed, a bit crazy and extravagant, but while teaching teenagers, that could be counted as another advantage.

Minerva interrupted her silent contemplation for long enough to set her class working and once the students got the hang of the thing, she started making a great plan to turn her wannabe lover into a marvellous Hogwarts Master. If there were any super beings watching this, they would be smiling and getting popcorn. Sometimes in the future, Moody's amorous plans would clash with Minerva's professional ones and there would be a great bang.

Although Draco didn't have loud plans for the morning, as he had claimed, he did have some plans. He hoped Tisha had the first period free so they could talk. He still wasn't sure how to start the conversation, however, he felt he needed it.

He knocked at the door of the Muggle Studies office and felt deeply disappointed at the lack of response. When he was turning away, he bumped into Tisha who was carrying a wide tray piled with books. One of the smallest slipped from its perch at the top of the pile and Draco caught it before it could hit the floor.

"Thanks. Looking for me?" Tisha leant one end of the tray against the door and mumbled the password. She swiftly followed the tray as it nearly fell inside her office. "Come in!" she cried. Draco closed the door and looked around curiously. The office was packed with Muggle stuff: static pictures, mechanic toys, even appliances with their power cords hanging sadly around them. Draco put the book on the table and bent to have a better look at the things he didn't recognize.

"What's this?" he picked up a small object. There were five metal balls hanging in a row, each on two strings.

"It's a Newton's cradle. Watch." Tisha took it from his hand and placed it on a table. Then she raised one of the balls and let it hit the rest of the row. The ball on the other end of the row raised and they swung like that, the three balls in the middle staying in their places while the ones at the edges were hopping up and down, clicking loudly.

"It will go like this for ages," Tisha said, sorting the books onto the last vacant bookshelf. Draco looked at some titles.

"These don't look like textbooks," he remarked.

"They aren't - they are literature. I will ask my students to read each one and make a paper on it - the next best thing to spending some time among Muggles, it is."

"Sounds fun." Draco put the book back on the shelf and perched on the edge of the table.

"Did you want something?" Tisha asked, already rummaging through a box of gartments. Draco caught a piece she flung over her shoulder and examined it. A pair of jeans - a year ago, he would have been very unsure about how to wear them.

"Just a chat. Am I bothering you?"

"Never! Just I'll have to leave you before eleven, I have the seventh years. Here it is!" She triumphantly held out a light dress.

"Discussing fashion with your students?" Draco teased.

"At least they'll know something useful when they hit the Muggle world. Will you have some tea?"

They sat down at Tisha's desk, sipping at the hot bitter liquid Tisha had made. Draco toyed with the Newton's cradle, experimenting.

"I have a drinking bird somewhere," Tisha offered with a small smile. Draco, who didn't know a thing about the toy, just shrugged. He was exploring the laws of physics and he found them fascinating.

"How come we never see stuff like that at Hogwarts?"

"I bet Muggle children would say the same about the stuff you do here," Tisha chuckled. "How are you, anyway? Any classes yet?"

"No, we start this afternoon with Potions." Involuntarily, Draco's hands on the cradle froze. Tisha noticed that.

"You don't look much thrilled. Don't you like it?"

"I used to, but now... after all that's happened..." Draco mumbled, fidgeting. Tisha refilled his cup.

"Hope you're better than Lucius," she said to distract the boy. All of sudden, he looked very young. Sure, he must have been under a lot of stress for a year at least, from what she had heard, and he was still just eighteen, but still...

"Was he bad?" Draco looked up more lively again.

"I can't tell for myself, but Severus said he was crap, and he must know," Tisha answered lightly. Draco hung his head.

"Yeah." Tisha was watching her nephew, worried. She wanted to help him, but how could she - without even knowing what was bothering him, save for the fact Severus figured somewhere in it? She tried to cup his hand, but he drew it in his lap and Tisha pretended she had been reaching for the toy.

"Draco." He didn't even budge, seemingly lost in thoughts. Tisha cleared her throat. "I know we didn't see each other in years - didn't even know each other, I mean - but if you need to tell me - that is, if there's something you would want to tell someone - you know you can tell me, right?" Draco shrugged. She felt sorry for him. So young and already he had been through so much. No-one should be...

Better not think of it, she thought, or you'd get angry.

"I can't be your mother, but I am your family - and you are mine - you see?"

"I don't want you to feel responsible for me. I am of age, after all," Draco said quietly. He didn't look at her.

"But I do - I always will," Tisha insisted. "I saw you as a baby and I think I'll always remember you like that - I can't help it!" The exclamation made Draco laugh briefly.

"Do you think I could come with Neville for the Muggle Studies?" he asked suddenly.

"Sure!"

"But I haven't taken a single lesson on it."

"Never mind. Such a small class, we'll have a plenty of time for anything. Do you want a book or something to get a head start?" Tisha offered. Without waiting for his response she got up and turned to a bookshelf on the other wall.

"Might be nice. When do you meet?"

"Oh - there's a timetable somewhere - here it is." Tisha found the small piece of parchment between two textbooks and pulled it out by its peeking corner. "Friday at ten. Suits you?"

"Perfectly. Thanks. I'll go and get mentally ready for the Potions." Draco got up and turned to take his leave.

"How much time do you have?"

"Till five. Should be enough." Tisha took two books from the shelf and shoved them at Draco, who was already heading for the door.

"Here, something to take your mind off of that smelly business." Tisha winked merrily and Draco smiled at her.

"Thanks. See you."

"Have a nice day." This family thing, Tisha thought, isn't as easy as it seems to be - but it's worth it.

I do feel better, Draco thought. Not excellent, but better.

By four o'clock, Snape was ready to swear he had been blackmailed, threatened with death and bribed with a king's fortune to do this again - anything rather than admit he had accepted a common offer accompanied with nothing worse than a plea. His day started fairly well, but those wretched students, who never knew anything except for mischief!

"Hello, Severus." He briefly closed his eyes. No-one would come down here if they didn't want anything from him, not even Laetitia Malfoy.

"What do you want?" he asked rudely without facing her.

"I brought you a snack." A rustling of something, than three soft taps as Tisha laid her load on the hard surface.

"You do realise we prepare poisons there, don't you?" Snape drawled.

"You do realise there's a thing called a plate, don't you?" Tisha responded. Snape turned to glare at her. She was taking small packages and jars out of a large picnic basket and placing them on a desk in the first row. She had even laid a table cloth and had been careful enough not to put the cutlery directly on the desk.

"Don't waste my time and tell me what it is you want," Snape demanded.

"Nothing. Have a seat, will you?" She was all sweetness and Snape concluded she must have longed for him to do something really dreadful. He sat down, watching her warily. He accepted a plate piled with unknown food and felt a throb of suspicion - surely she wouldn't try to poison him?

He was torn between his first instict to reject and the smallest thread of trust Tisha had managed to build between them. In the end he simply waited until Tisha took the first bite, trusting his abilities to reach nearest bezoir should she be cunning enough to put something on his plate only - or to take an antidote in advance.

Immediately after wording the thought in his mind, he felt guilty for it. There was really no need to be afraid of Lucius' sister. She had never been in the same league as Lucius, and having no personal grudge against Snape, she would hardly jeopardise her life like that. She knew she stood no chance against any wizard or witch who would want to trace the murderer.

"Is anything the matter?" Tisha interrupted Snape's dark musings.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked, glaring at his fork.

"Made it. Most of what I learnt from Steve - he was a chef - nice guy, but spent too much time on his footie for my liking. I suppose the house elves never heard of half of this."

"Probably," Snape uttered, trying to figure out what a "footie" might be.

"These are my favourites," Tisha pointed at small bits of something and something else lying together on a piece of bread. She proceeded to stab her fork in it and shove it in Snape's mouth.

The surprise combined with his mouth being full stopped Snape from throwing the insolent wretch out of his classroom, dungeons and - possibly - the castle. That, and the fact that these were, indeed, worth to be called someone's favourites.

"I just wondered if I could ask you something personal," Tisha asked after a minute or so, suddenly very grave. Here it comes, Snape thought.

"You may ask, but I do not promise I will answer." A small smile appeared on her face for a split of a second. Then, gravely again:

"It's about Draco." The name hung in the mid-air.

There were many things Snape knew about Draco, most of them not very nice. The little scoundrel had been a nightmare to nearly everyone with any kind of moral principles for six years he had spent at Hogwarts, and that he had been forgiven and accepted by the Gryffindors from his year - at least those who mattered - hadn't cleared him in Snape's eyes.

"What about him?" he asked roughly.

"There is something - well, something happened between the two of you during the war."

"Many things," Snape assured her, waiting for the question.

"I know he's bothered with something and I want to help him, I just - just don't know how." She looked at him and seemed so helpless Snape almost pitied her.

"It wasn't easy for him," he admitted. "As for what exactly happened, I believe it would be more useful if he told you himself." Tisha looked him in the eye and Snape found himself automatically closing his mind, checking every thought that might betray that he in fact had no idea what was bothering young Lord Malfoy. But Tisha - naturally - didn't try to penetrate his mind. She only watched whatever she could see in his eyes for long minutes, before she nodded with notable relief.

"Thank you, Severus."

There was no good spirit to tell Snape why on the Earth should Tisha be soothed by his answer, and of course Snape couldn't guess himself, no matter how hard he tried through the rest of their snack, during the time when Tisha cleared the table and packed her picnic basket, even during the few minutes before his three students arrived. When Snape saw Granger's face, so suprised at seeing Neville getting ready for a lesson, he considered asking her, just to throw her even more of her balance. But she would probably know, and Snape didn't want to give her an upper hand.

"Let's see how much you have forgotten," he barked. All three of them jumped. He started questioning them, choosing easy questions to embarass them, but since they knew the right answers, they were merely encouraged. As Snape's question's grew more difficult, he could see things were as he had expected: Granger had the right answer to everything, Draco to most and Neville to almost nothing. But Snape could see one difference: Neville was less insecure, while Draco more so. And Granger was more patient and less irritating - at least one good thing in a bunch. Officially, they weren't members of their old Houses anymore and he couldn't take away points. He felt as if missing an arm.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape said formally after Neville failed third question in a row, "I can see you have not studied too hard. Maybe you should devote more time to your textbooks," he suggested. And less to plaguing me with your presence.

Instead of breaking down or at least trembling, the boy just smiled.

A/N: Since Tisha doesn't explain much about Newton's cradle, you can learn more from the Wikipedia.
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