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
Not So Very Well

Lizzy and Robert met Eddie in the Entrance Hall early next morning. They decided to sit at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast in the hopes that they would go unnoticed, and perhaps escape detention, which the professors surely merely forgot to assign last night.

But neither Snape nor Tisha showed up for breakfast in the Great Hall. As the three children pushed their plates away, an older Hufflepuff boy scooted to them. His hair was styled into an uneven green mohawk with tips coloured silver. It resembled a model of a mountain range.

"Is it true that Professor Malfoy was attacked at night?" he asked excitedly. "Owen Cauldwell said some first years were there, and Edward here came in pretty late, and the two of you..." he gazed at them quizzically, shrugged, and went on, "I have no idea when you showed up." Lizzy shifted in her seat, unwilling to admit that they weren't all Hufflepuffs.

"Um... yeah, that cold thing did that," Eddie admitted. "Professor Snape was there, too."

"Oh, how many detentions did you earn?" the older boy asked sympathetically.

"He forgot to give us detention," Robert said. "What with saving us and taking Professor Malfoy to the Hospital Wing."

"He didn't even take any points," Lizzy breathed out. She hadn't realised until then.

"Morning, Kevin." A couple of girls joined them. The taller, a pretty blonde wearing a thick sweater, sat down and poured herself tea. The other, with short dark brown hair, reached for sausages and eggs even before sitting down.

"Laura, Eleanor!" exclaimed the boy, presumably Kevin. "Guess what, Owen was right, the cold thing attacked Professor Malfoy last night. And guess what else!" Not waiting for an answer, Kevin continued, barely stopping to inhale. "Snape's gone completely off his rocker. He caught these three out of dorm past curfew and didn't even take points!"

"Who three?" asked the girl who was eating. Kevin turned to find the first-years had left.

"Well, Edward, you know, the little guy with the ears?"

"I know which kid is Edward, you prat, I'm a prefect. Funny, I don't know the other two. Are we sure they're Hufflepuffs?" she queried, licked her fork, and turned to heap seconds on her plate.

"They were sitting here when I came," Kevin said slowly.

"Hey, if Eleanor doesn't know them, they can't be in our house," the blonde reasoned and sipped her tea. "She's a prefect, after all," she added. Eleanor swatted at her playfully.

"I may not have the time to chat with everyone, but I paid attention during Sorting."

"Yeah, because the food was not yet on the table..."

Kevin was still staring at the space where the two extra first-years had sat a minute ago.

"That explains why they didn't come in last night," he mumbled finally. "Hey, Jack, guess what!" he turned excitedly to the next group of Hufflepuffs.

Snape didn't sleep well. His dreams were haunted by images of Lily being bullied by the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy, with whom she pleaded as if he were her father, which was quite ridiculous. At around five o'clock, he decided he had enough, and he summoned an elf to ask for a breakfast in his quarters.

The confusion of his overtired brain would probably clear itself until next time he could go to bed, and as for today, he would have to fare somehow without proper rest. As he had before; he could handle this.

Better than watching Lily cry, even in the bizzarre and unrealistic setting.

Restless and aching, Snape set out of the dungeons. The castle was perfectly still - it was early on a Sunday morning, after all, even before breakfast - and he walked out into the Statue Garden. He circumvented the statue at first to catch a glimpse of Dumbledore's tomb, faintly illuminated by enchanted lanterns. His knee started throbbing with dull pain, so it felt appropriate to watch his failures at full.

Perhaps he should take some time today to visit Godric's Hollow as well. To really see the full picture.

The statue was, thankfully, not illuminated at all. As the sky started to brighten, Snape shivered in the cold air. The night had been clear and the temperatures had dropped considerably. It must have been almost eight when Snape turned sourly and headed back inside. McGonagall had asked him to meet after breakfast to discuss the last night's attack. Now walking with a noticeable limp, he mulled over all the new information.

He also needed to retrieve the blasted book, and he couldn't just ask Tisha to bring it; the bookcase was certainly locked, and if it wasn't, the Squib should not go anywhere near the rest of the books. Even if she was cautious, the most malevolent of the dark books could attack her.

"Professor Snape!"

He stopped and waited for Granger to join him.

"Good morning, sir. Is it true that the shadow attacked Tisha last night? The whole school is talking about it!" the young witch said rapidly.

"The whole... of course the whole school talks about it." The portraits always made sure to gossip about anything and everything. "I am meeting with the Headmistress in about ten minutes. Actually, come with me. I will fill you in on the way."

It took them a little longer than ten minutes to reach the gargoyle. Snape spat the password at it and gestured for Granger to go first.

"Are you..."

"Yes, I am coming, too," he said. Granger shook her head.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a pointed glance at his knee. She glanced at the one that did not hurt, but the message was received.

"Well enough to handle myself. After you."

"Unless you'd prefer to stand in the corridor?" the gargoyle offered helpfully. "I can just close the entry again."

"After you," Snape forced through teeth.

As the stairs carried them up, Hermione tried to figure out whether Snape had a reason to be cross or was just in pain.

Entering the office, they found the Headmistress and Moody already waiting for them.

"Granger," Moody half-growled impatiently. "We have a very important meeting here."

"I asked Miss Granger to join us, seeing as she is very involved and highly capable," Snape drawled, sounding much more like himself.

Hermione blinked. Sounding like himself, except he just paid her a compliment.

"Very well then," McGonagall said firmly as Moody appeared to be ready to protest. "I trust you have filled in Miss Granger on the latest attack?" Snape stiffly nodded. "To business, then. There were no more attacks last night, which is good, and Professor Malfoy is perfectly fine today." McGonagall sat down behind her desk and motioned for everyone to take a seat. Hermione looked at an armchair that stood under the window and decided against moving it anywhere. She Conjured a high-backed chair instead.

"Has Tisha been in the Hospital Wing for a checkup? She seemed well when I last saw her, but still shaken," Snape said.

"No, but I talked to her. Very nice, Miss Granger, that could earn you extra credit on your N.E.W.T." Hermione blushed and smiled and McGonagall continued, "I am contemplating closing the school, to be honest. I know this is not the worst we've seen, but it's not exactly safe either. Alastor, how many of our students can banish the shadow?"

"There are only two N.E.W.T. level students who can't reliably cast it, and I also taught it to the prefects. Only one of them has troubles with it." Moody paused as his magical eye followed someone outside. "Ah, that was just Trelawney. I thought she might be headed here but she just went past. Anyway, even those three can cast it more often than not, although probably not if they are attacked."

"So far, the shadow attacked two first-years and a Squib," Snape said. "I walk the dungeons alone every single night. It appears to choose who to target."

"Is it so smart?" Moody asked.

"When it attacked the children, it very clearly focused on them," Hermione supplied and described all her findings from the night in detail. "It inspires great fear, which makes me think of a Boggart, but obviously that's not all there is to it," she added. Moody scoffed.

"Surely you don't believe we're being pestered by something so straightforward as a Boggart?"

"No." Hermione shook her head and frowned. "As I just said, that's not all there is to it."

"If I may," said the Headmistress in a tone that clearly conveyed that she was not asking for a permission, "we should get back on track with this meeting. Alastor, how young students do you think could learn the charm?" When the Defence Professor hesitated, she added, "Seeing as most of the students who tried to have managed to learn it, I think a big portion of the younger ones may, too. And we need them to be able to defend themselves."

"I think fifth-years should be able to learn it now, and at least a third of fourth-years. But Minerva, the fifth-years are already stretched thin with O.W.L.s coming up. There's a gap in knowledge from when that Ministry hag was teaching here..."

"Or rather, preventing any learning," Hermione muttered darkly.

"Well, I wasn't here, but we are catching up and the fifth-years really don't have much time to spare."

"I can confirm that," Snape said, paused as if in pain, but then finished, "as I was the Defence Master the year after Umbridge. She truly caused damage to education."

There was a brief moment of silence before the Headmistress recovered herself.

"If we can't ensure the safety of our students, the school will have to close - and that will harm the students even more than one lesson dedicated to an extra-curriculum spell. Students who will not be able to defend themselves will need to be escorted, after nightfall and down in the dungeons, at least. Though we could make a few special lessons for anyone interested - we may extend deadlines on assigned homework to give students enough time to learn the charm now, and less pressing material later." McGonagall waited for the two wizards to nod their approval before concluding, "I will make an announcement tonight. I'm afraid, Severus, that you will have to escort your younger students, unless you are willing to move the Potions classroom upstairs."

Snape closed his eyes. His knee was hurting even after sitting for several minutes and the thought of walking up and down the stairs in the presence of students several times a day was horrendous to him - but so was the idea of teaching anywhere but in the dungeons.

"I shall manage to escort them," he said in the end.

"Very well." McGonagall nodded. "Has any of you made any progress on a permanent, or at least more long-term, solution?" While Moody just shook his head, Hermione looked at Snape expectantly. He stared at her, then slightly inclined his head, which she took as a go-ahead signal.

"We found out more about the ritual, although we ran into a defensive mechanism we haven't yet overcome," Hermione said and summarised their findings. "Now we are searching for information on the defensive spell."

"Cautious Cage, by Estelle Eloquent of Eire, described in Spells that Defy Snitches," Snape added.

"That sounds like a manual on cheating in Quidditch," Moody said.

"Unfortunately we haven't yet procured the book," Hermione said miserably.

"But I have a very good idea where to borrow a copy," Snape said quite casually and watched as Moody deflated.

"You do?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"As of last night."

"Very well," McGonagall said again. "Then I believe we should leave the matter with the two of you." Moody opened his mouth to protest but McGonagall continued, "Alastor, I would like you to focus on assisting Hagrid with whatever or whoever is in the forest."

"In the forest? I beg..."

"Severus!" McGonagall said sharply. "Yes, we have another thing to deal with. Please handle the shadow for now, and let Alastor and Hagrid worry about anything outside the school." Snape sighed. "Do not look at me like that. I am certain that should Alastor and Hagrid feel like they need help, they will ask for it."

After a brief moment of silence, Moody cleared his throat.

"Right we will," he said. "So far we are investigating. It looks like a work of a wizard - or some other intelligent creature."

"What is happening?" Hermione asked curiously. Moody scowled.

"Something has been killing critters in the forest," he said gruffly. "All the Acromantulas are gone - hard to tell if killed or driven off, though, but Hagrid did find some dead."

"Oh no!" Hermione gasped. "Poor Hagrid! First Aragog and now all his children!"

"Aragog?" Snape queried with a frown. "Actually, no, I do not want to know. Is that all, Headmistress?"

"One more thing, while you're here, Severus," McGonagall said and pulled a piece of parchment from her desk drawer. "Hufflepuffs have asked to be let organise a dance club."

"Hm," Snape said non-commitally, wondering what was that to do with him.

"They also asked about a suitable space to hold the meetings. The club would be open for all houses, so it can't be just in their common room." The parchment held a hastily drawn map and McGonagall weighed down the corners. "We were thinking this hall here, near the kitchens," she pointed. "What do you think, Severus?"

"Oh no," the Potions Master said at once. "That won't do."

"Is that...?"

"Yes, that's where the Dark Lord's supporters in the school met. There doesn't appear to be anything left, but better safe than sorry. Also, this passage here is now closed," Snape indicated on the map. "They would have to go the long way around to get back to their common room. How many Hufflepuffs are we talking about?"

"About fifteen, with a handful from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. No Slytherins."

"Right," Snape snorted. "It's not like Slytherins to join in a dance club. We better choose a place above ground. If the Hufflepuffs stick together when leaving, they should be safe."

"Very well. Alastor?" The ex-auror nodded, hard-pressed to find a fault with Snape's logic.

"There's an unused classroom close to the Trophy Room," he suggested. "Perhaps that could be used?" McGonagall turned to Snape with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, that is a workable solution," Snape admitted, eventhough he looked like he just tasted a vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Bean. "It will need a change of furniture, though."

"I will ask Constantinus to handle it," the Headmistress decided. "You two - all of you, I mean," she corrected with a nod to Hermione, "have enough on your plates already. And I believe that is all we needed to talk about today." She rose from her chair and the others followed suit, Hermione Vanishing the chair she had Conjured. Moody was the first to reach the door and disappeared down the spiral staircase before Snape hobbled across the room. McGonagall moved to a cupboard to put away the map and bring a pile of letters to her desk, and by the time she sat back down, she was alone with the portraits.

"How many times did I say 'very well' during that meeting?" McGonagall asked casually. Dilys Derwent chuckled from her frame.

"I counted only four times," she said. "Not too bad, my dear!"

"Very well then," McGonagall answered.

"And that makes it five!"

Snape attempted to shake off Hermione by walking very quickly, but it was not to be. The pain in his knee slowed him down too much.

"You said you had a lead on the book," the young witch said sharply.

"Indeed."

"When do you think you could have it?"

"When..." Snape silently cursed himself for wanting to stick it to Moody. Now he was on a hard deadline, it seemed. "I need to reach out to an acquaintance I do not get on well with currently," he said carefully, Tisha's expression floating in front of his eyes.

"Can I help with that?"

"No!"

"But maybe your friend - I mean, acquaintance - would be more open to talking to someone else?"

"No, as I believe I already said," Snape reiterated icily. "I shall handle this."

"Well, when? I want to clear my schedule to work on the counterspell." Granger sounded frustrated. "I have a tight study plan and I just know Christmas will interfere!"

Oh, Merlin help us, Snape thought to himself, that getting rid of the shadow interfered with Granger's study plan. He thought about bringing up his own study plans - that is, lesson plans for seven different years, not to mention teaching all the classes, but in the end decided against prolonging the conversation.

"I shall have the book within the week," he said firmly. "Or know that it isn't where I last saw it anymore. A week, Miss Granger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I spent most of the day yesterday on the task and I have other duties as well."

He could see it in her eyes that she almost asked about the other duties, but she either realised he was still a teacher, or that it was none of her business, and nodded her head.

"Of course, professor. I need to revise for my Arithmancy lesson anyway." She turned and hurried down the stairs, either to the library or to her common room to revise for whatever she needed to revise. Did Vector do tests for her class of one? Or did Malfoy take Arithmancy? Snape quickly stopped pondering the question as he found it was far less amusing than he had thought it would be.

Draco, who had suffered a lecture on abuse of power and mistreatment of house-elves from Hermione the evening before, had also risen quite early and bravely entered the library - shielded from Madam Pince by a couple of seventh-year Ravenclaws already studying for their N.E.W.T.s.

He found the section about various magical creatures and scanned the titles, muttering to himself. Fifteen minutes later, he had pulled several books to a nearby table and started sorting through them. There was certainly going to be information that would prove that Hermione's ridiculous stance on house-elves was completely wrong.

"Anything specific that you are looking for?" Madam Pince asked sharply from behind him. He jumped.

"Er... I'm looking for anything about house-elves and their wellbeing. Madam," he added and clasped his hands behind his back to stop them from trembling. Madam Pince had a presence in the library, which Draco of course respected, and to a degree feared.

"One would think a Malfoy would already have some experience with house-elves," she remarked icily. She looked down at him with a frown. Draco realised the hands behind his back may not look truly respectful and forced himself to unclasp them and let them fall to his sides.

"Yes, I do - in fact, I have one. But it has been brought to my attention that I don't know how to properly care for his wellbeing." Why do I sound like I got a pet hamster, Draco wondered to himself. House elves generally tend to care for themselves, and them some.

"Care for his..." Madam Pince frowned at the idea.

"I want to be responsible. Also," Draco made his tone a little warmer, sensing an opening in the librarian's attitude, "I'm afraid I inherited an elf that is a bit unstable after the war, and I want to help him become more... stabilised."

The librarian eyed him with apparent disbelief and for a moment Draco thought she would just toss him out of the library. Then, she tutted and held up her wand.

"Very well. These are useless for you," she snapped and most of the books flew back to the shelves. "Not many wizards take interest in what to do for house-elves. Most are just looking for what a house-elf can do for them. Hmm. You're missing this," - she summoned a stack of magazines - "and this might be good," - a thick folder flew to the table - "perhaps this one," - a heavy tome landed on the folder with a thud. Madam Pince put away her wand and nodded. "There. The magazines and the essays can't be checked out, so take your notes here, but you can leave them with me if you want to come back to them tomorrow. Bring me the books you'll like to borrow before lunch. I shall be off in the afternoon and Professor Babbling always messes up my notes." She turned and left as abruptly as she had arrived.

Draco realised his mouth was hanging open and closed it.

"What in Merlin's name..." he breathed out.

He turned to the table and pushed the tome off the folder to inspect it - those were the essays. They were nearly a hundred years old. Apparently a professor back then assigned an essay on house-elves and the best ones made it to the library. The magazines, as he quickly realised, were also quite old. They ran a series of articles about motivating house-elves to do their best. The books seemed most tangential, but in the interest of knowing which ones to check out, Draco started skimming over those.

The tome, he quickly found out, would take a lot of time to read through. It was called On Keeping Magical Households Their Best and contained a variety of information about how to tackle all kinds of issues around house. Each chapter had some information on house-elves. Other books had a chapter or two mostly covering the same information.

He turned his attention to the magazines. The articles were quite short and Draco was done with taking notes with more than an hour still left to lunch. Happy to have them done, he picked up the essays.

There were so many. And they were hard to read. Each was completely different. No way would he be able to read through them in a day or two, let alone take any useful notes.

Well, he would just take the On Keeping Magical Households Their Best, his notes, and come to read through the essays later. If he could just quickly copy them... Draco frowned.

Hermione knew a spell to make a copy. She had likened it to some Muggle device. She would tell him, of course, if he asked. Or he could track down the book she had read about it in and save himself the embarassement of having to ask for her help.

He looked around the library. Now where would such a spell be? Or should he ask Madam Pince?

Oh, no, he decided after contemplating the size of the Charms section. He would just ask Hermione.

"Essays about house-elves?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Where did you find them?"

"Madam Pince found them for me," Draco admitted.

"You asked Madam Pince? After the way she has been treating you?" Hermione exclaimed. Draco braced himself for more lectures but Hermione beamed at him. "That was so brave! I'm proud of you!"

Draco decided that Hermione didn't need to know about the lack of choice Draco had had in the matter.

"She seems to like it when she can help you find something," he said instead. "She was nearly friendly when I was checking out my book and she promised to keep the essays for me until tomorrow so I don't have to go looking for them." He paused. "I don't think I would find them without her help. Where are the old essays in the library, anyway?"

"Oh, they are all the way to the back, in the file cases. I thought that was the library catalog at first, or the register, but there doesn't seem to be one," Hermione mused somewhat unhappily.

"Did you never ask Madam Pince for help?"

"I did, the first few times, but she wasn't friendly at all!"

"Perhaps..." Draco looked at Hermione and decided not to say anything about his own personal charm, "you must be looking for something hard to find? Maybe even give her a challenge?" Hermione gasped.

"That must be it! I must have asked about the same things every first-year ever was looking for! Oh, I should have asked her about Nicolas Flammel," she added bitterly.

"Who?"

"Never mind now. Do you have something you want to copy? I'll show you the spell." As Hermione brandished her wand, Draco put the notes he had made on the table.

"This here, I suppose you will want to read it, too, to help with the," he paused to remember, "S.T.E.W."

"That's S.P.E.W.," Hermione corrected, although without a deadly glare. She placed another piece of parchment next to Draco's notes. "This is the wand movement - careful with the twirl at the end, or you'll copy the notes on the table - the incantation is Effingo." Draco practised the movement a few times until Hermione gave a nod of approval.

"Effingo! Oh, that's nice."

"A bit too much power behind it," Hermione commented, inspecting the new copy. "That made half the words bolded. But otherwise, you got it. You should probably cast it wordlessly in the library tomorrow." Having said that, the young witch started reading through her copy of Draco's notes.

"Thanks, Hermione, will do." Draco pulled out a handkerchief, Transfigured it into another piece of parchment, made a copy silently, and Transfigured it back. The handkerchief now bore a pattern of Draco's handwriting. Draco stared at it, amused and a little proud. The pattern was quite lovely.

Perhaps he could use this to improve some of his plain clothes.

"Oh, how is your aunt, anyway?" Hermione interrupted his musings.

"Well, I think? I haven't really seen her since Friday."

"You didn't visit today after what happened yesterday?" Hermione looked at him disapprovingly.

"Why, what happened?"

"She was attacked by the shadow last night. Professor Snape told me this morning, we had a meeting with the Headmistress."

"Oh. Oh no." Draco hastily put away his notes. "Is she in the Hospital Wing?"

"No, she left right away."

"Thank you, Hermione, you're the best!" And Draco rushed out of the door. He quickly navigated to Tisha's quarters and knocked. When nothing happened at once, he contemplated going right in, but hesitated. It felt quite rude. He should probably give his aunt a little bit more time to answer the door before getting worried.

He knocked again. This time Tisha opened the door before he could step back. Draco felt immense relief at seeing her standing in the doorframe, unhurt albeit looking a little tired.

"May I come in?" he asked politely at the same time as Tisha said, "Draco! Come, it's so nice to see you!"

"Are you alright? Hermione told me you got... attacked... last night," Draco said as soon as the door closed behind him.

"How does she... oh, of course, Severus must have told her," she mused with a frown. "Yes, I am fine, no lasting damage." Draco noticed the change in Tisha's mood but decided not to press the matters.

"I'm sorry I didn't come see you earlier," he said instead cautiously. "I was in the library all morning and didn't know."

"It's not a problem. Will you have some tea with me?" Tisha smiled and picked up her teapot without waiting for an answer. "It's good to see you're studying so dilligently," she continued. "Are you getting ready for an exam? You said all your essays were done on Friday."

"Ah - it's a kind of a personal project." And he explained about Kreacher and Harry's - apparently involuntary - wizarding will.

By the time Draco finished, the tea was ready and biscuits were served. Tisha sat deep in thought for a while, just sipping from her cup, and Draco felt very comfortable in the silence.

"Were you and Harry very good friends, Draco?" Tisha asked quietly, not quite looking at her nephew. Draco scoffed.

"We were at each other's throat for six years," he admitted. "Although we only really talked once - that was last year, when I was in hiding." He paused and frowned, but went on before Tisha could interject, "They asked us - Neville and me - to come join them to the old Black house in London for a bit. Apparently, Harry needed to talk to me, I still don't understand what that was about. He was..." Draco trailed off.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Tisha said gently as the silence stretched.

"I want to - I want to tell you." Draco shook his head. "He was so different - I'm looking for words. Ah... See, when we were at school, he was loud and angry at times, and sometimes happy, and loud... I said that already, didn't I?"

"So, he was a normal teenage boy?"

"He was not normal," Draco laughed. "The Boy-Who-Lived - yes, a regular teenager. Actually, you are right, he was normal if you looked past the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing." Draco finished his tea and set the mug down on the table, then stared at it as if it could display the words he wanted to say. "He was completely different the last time I saw him. Quiet. Serene. Tranquil. Transcedent."

"I'm not sure those are words I would use to describe a young man," Tisha remarked.

"I'm not sure he was a young man anymore. He said he forgave me - I did some... stuff... now there is something I don't want to talk about anymore. But we went through it and he forgave me for every single thing, even trying to kill Dumbledore, and then we got drunk."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We were of age!"

"No - you - you tried to kill..." Tisha's voice broke on the word and Draco looked up.

"Oh. I suppose I should explain about that?" He looked into his empty cup. "Do you happen to have something stronger?"

"Not talking about coffee, are we?" Tisha stood up to fetch a bottle and two shot glasses from a cabinet. "Slivovitz. Have you ever had any?" Draco shook his head but accepted the small glass and swallowed the contents at once.

"Huh. Like plums on fire. Very direct."

"Very straightforward," Tisha agreed. "You still don't have to tell me, but I would very much like to hear your explanation." Tisha glanced at Draco as she put the bottle on the table and sat down, but didn't stare, for which he was grateful.

"The Da... Voldemort ordered me to kill Dumbledore before my sixth year," Draco said quietly. "Father was in Azkaban; this was a further punishment. But I believed it was a great honour. Anyway, I couldn't do it." He noticed that Tisha breathed out in relief. "So Professor Snape went and did it for me, he had promised Mother. Otherwise we'd probably get killed for failure." He looked up to see his aunt's face as white as sheet. "Oh! Oh, Professor Snape was a spy, it came out after the war. Dumbledore was already dying and they worked it out between them. Even the part where I was going to fail." Draco paused and studied the empty shot glass. "Apparently, they had a whole discussion about it. Professor Snape gave the memory of it to the Order, I didn't see it, but Hermione did, if you want to talk to her about it."

Tisha didn't say anything, but poured herself another shot and downed it.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked her.

"I need some time to process all that. Are you alright, though?"

"I am... I think. I will be." Draco sat back and looked at his aunt uncertainly. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure I will be. Can we talk about something else for now?"

"Let us, oh please!" But Tisha cleared the table and replace the tea things and the vodka bottle with a stack of parchments. "Do you mind if I work as we talk? I need to copy out assignments for my fourth-years."

"Suit yourself. Are you still helping your Muggle friend clear out that house?" he asked casually, watching as Tisha carefully copied contents of one parchment on another.

"Yeah. What gave me away?"

"You came to dinner last night dripping wet and it was not raining here," Draco said smugly. "Is Professor Snape helping?"

"He's helping me with transportation. Damn! I made a blot." She glared at her quill angrily. Draco pulled the parchment to himself.

"I can help with that," he said and erased the spot with the tip of his wand. "Is this how Muggles do it? Copy class assignments by hand?"

"No, they have nifty machines to do that. Thanks." Tisha set the parchment back in front of herself and returned to her task. "It's a shame they all work on electricity. Maybe I could set an office in some Muggle town and make my copies there?" she mused.

"Oh! Wait! I can make the copies for you!" Draco realised. "Hermione just taught me the spell. How many do you need?"

"Eight. You don't have to..." But Draco was already hovering his wand over the parchments.

"Effingo," he thought as a way of practice, and the copies were successfuly made.

"Very impressive," Tisha said and inspected them. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let me know if you need anything else copied." Draco grinned. "Do you play chess?"

"Not very well," Tisha admitted. "But if you like, I have some Muggle games here that I'm saving for classes just before Christmas."

"That sounds interesting." They cleared the table and Tisha fetched a large box filled with colourful games. After scrutinising the Game of Life and Monopoly and deciding those would be more fun with more players, they settled on a game of Mastermind. Tisha set the code first and Draco picked a combination at random.

"Red pin means you have the colour and placement, and white that you guessed a colour, but it's misplaced," Tisha repeated as she placed one red and one white pin. "So, pretty good job on the first move."

"Ah, but which ones... Hmm..." Draco studied the board before taking another guess. "That doesn't really tell me much," he complained when Tisha repeated the same judgement. "Can I use the same colour twice in the same guess?" he asked and Tisha smiled.

"Yes, that's a good strategy."

"This is fun."

"You can have the games when I'm done with them," Tisha laughed. Draco nearly dropped the pins he was placing.

"That's it!"

"What?"

"That's what Harry said!" Draco sat back and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "After we had out chat and got drunk, I complimented him on the house - which he inherited from his godfather - and he said that I could have it." Draco suddenly became very somber. "I don't think he meant to bequeath it to me, though. He meant that he would rather have his godfather back. Or maybe his parents." And with that, the mood was ruined again.

"I think I'll go read ahead a bit in my Charms book," Draco said and stood up abruptly. "We are about to start a chapter about singing - that should take my mind off things. Thank you for the tea - and the game."

"It was my pleasure. Will you stop by tomorrow evening?" Tisha followed Draco to the door.

"I'll be flying with Lizzy. I can come after dinner, if it's not too late?"

"It's not. Have fun flying." Tisha smiled, but Draco just nodded and left.

Lizzy had spent the afternoon watching the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. The practice ran long and Lizzy went from the pitch straight to dinner. She stopped at the door - Robert and Eddie were not in the Hall yet, and that meant that they were waiting for Lizzy in a third floor classroom, so she ran up the stairs to fetch them. She glanced out the window; it was already past sunset, and even though the sky was clear, it was so dark outside that she could only barely make out the outline of the Forbidden Forest in the distance.

She turned into a second floor corridor leading to another staircase and stopped abruptly. Had she just heard something from the nearest classroom? Yes - a soft, miserable sound, as if someone begging for help without words. The door to the classroom stood ajar and she stuck her head inside.

"Hello?" she called. She heard the sound again, but not from inside the classroom. She returned to the corridor and looked around. There was a small alcove with an armour standing in it. At the feet of the armour, something moved. The alcove was rather dark and Lizzy dropped to her knees.

"Mrs. Norris!" she cried out. The cat mewed again. She was breathing with difficulty and seemed to be in pain. Lizzy quickly scooped the animal in her arms. Mrs. Norris didn't seem to mind. She was now shivering and Elizabeth gently petted her, pressing her to her chest. Then the girl broke into a run.

Filch was just cleaning his set of tools when the knocking came. At first he didn't realise what the noise was - the students were avoiding him like the plague and the professors never came to his office to look for him, they much rather waited for him in the corridors - but then a high-pitched voice called his name.

"What's this racket about?" he shouted as soon as he opened the door. There was a small girl standing before him, Jorkins, if he remembered her correctly, holding something in her arms.

"Mr. Filch, it's... it's..." The girl was panting and it was obvious she had been running. Filch opened his mouth to scold her for breaking the rules, but then she finished, "... Mrs. Norris. Sir. She's sick."

Filch had a better look at the bundle Jorkins was holding. As on a cue, Mrs. Norris faintly mewed again. He moved as to take the cat from the girl, but she suddenly pushed past him and walked up to the fireplace. There was an old duvet crumpled at Mrs. Norris' favourite spot and the girl gently placed Filch's best (and only) friend on it. She even petted her. Filch quietly closed the door. He wanted to throw the girl out. He wanted to shout at her for practically breaking into his office. He wanted everyone to disappear from the castle and leave him alone with his cat.

He wanted Mrs. Norris to spring up, jump on his desk and curl up on his paperwork as if telling him he had worked for long enough and now was the time to be spent with his friend. But she didn't and Filch awkwardly dropped to the floor next to this young, unafraid girl.

"How old is she?" Jorkins asked.

"Thirty... Thirty-two, I think." He wasn't sure. Maybe it was even more.

"That's a lot." The girl frowned. "She needs rest and a lot of warmth." With difficulty, Filch raised again - he wasn't getting any younger himself - and added wood on the fire. Jorkins watched him pensively.

"Why don't you sit down here," she said and pushed an armchair closer to the fireplace. Then she took up the duvet with the cat bundled in it and waited for him to sit down in the armchair. "Here, hold her." Once in her master's arms, Mrs. Norris sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She made a timid movement as if she tried to butt her head against his body and Filch scratched her between her ears.

"I'll write to Dad. He'll ask our vet for help. It's the best vet in the world," the girl added. "He'll know what to do."

Filch didn't argue with that, although he didn't really know what a vet was and how could one help. He didn't say a word as the girl said her goodbye and left. He was too frightened to speak.

He should talk to Hagrid in the morning, he thought fleetingly.

The cat in his arms fell asleep and he just hoped she would wake up again.

Sweet Merlin, she had to wake up again.