Author's Notes: Please forgive the teen angst in this chapter. I am both sorry and not sorry for it at the same time.

Harry Potter does not belong to me, I'm just borrowing it all for a bit.

Chapter Thirty Five

Beginning the next morning, Heather found that she was rarely ever left alone. Try as she might to submit to the resurgent voice inside her telling her to retreat into herself, her friends made it impossible to carry out. Through the heavy clouds that oppressed her mind both internally and in the sky outside the castle windows, it was only her friend's constant, and occasionally downright insistent presence that kept her from becoming completely overwhelmed.

It didn't take much deduction to figure out Hermione was behind this ever-present company. For one thing Heather saw her repeatedly whispering to their mutual friends in classes or at meals, only to stop when Heather got close enough to try and overhear what was being discussed. She had also stuck to Heather like glue since they had returned from their late-night meeting outside the Room of Requirement. Even when she was too busy off being Head Girl, others stood in for her. Now instead of doing her homework alone in the evenings, Heather found herself being asked by Hannah or Luna to join them in the library. Hagrid also helped, extending frequent invitations to Heather to come down for tea with him and Grawp.

Strangely, in the wake of the incident, her dormitory was beginning to feel slightly less frosty then it had all term so far. Pavarti made a point of making up for Lavender's continued cold shoulder by spending time up there with Heather, flooding her with a constant stream of girl talk and fashion advice, sounding much more like her old self than she had since the war ended.

Word of what had happened had spread across the school like fiendfyre. Whispers of what had been done, along with Heather's retaliation, were quickly circulated through the corridors. It was as though the school had nothing else to talk about. So far there had been no official punishment for the girl's, and Heather doubted that was going to change anytime soon.

Through her friends, mostly Ginny, she learned much of what the school thought, despite trying her best not to care. "Some think you deserved it," Ginny said hurriedly, hoping the blow would be less heavy if the statement was made quickly. "But," she continued, holding up a hand to stall Heather's reply, "they're a small minority. Unfortunately, they're also the loudest so it feels like they're bigger than they really are."

"That's still horrible," Hermione cut across Heather whose mouth had just opened to respond.

"Do I want to know why they feel that way?" she asked after pausing to check whether or not she'd be interrupted again.

Ginny fixed her with a look that Heather read as 'I can tell you but I need you to promise not to shoot the messenger.' Sighing, Heather made a get it over with gesture with one hand. "They umm, they say it's because you're forcing everyone to go along with you pretending to be a girl," Ginny said.

"What about everyone else," Heather asked wearily, feeling like an enormous weight had just settled on her chest.

"Well," Ginny said slowly, "Your friends are definitely on your side. I've been arguing with anyone who wants to go that you're being horridly treated, and I'm not alone in that. Some people are convinced, but most of them want to keep out of it. Doesn't seem to stop them from talking about it though."

That tallied well enough with Heather's view of the situation, and certainly fit her past experiences being the center of the school's attention. "So, as usual they're just going to sit in the middle and watch?"

"Of course they will. It's the exact same, albeit to a lesser degree, as the people who were more than content to sit back and watch the war go on so long as it didn't affect them," Hermione reasoned. "The more things change," she added philosophically.

Heather went back to work on her essay. She wasn't all that worried. If she had learned anything in the last seven years, it was that she would only be a spectacle until the next thing came along. All she had to do was be patient. At least no one was giving her any grief over the lost house points this time.

A few nights later, the unending stream of company had taken its own toll on her energy levels to the point where all she wanted to do was be alone, albeit for an entirely different reason. She returned from dinner after shaking off Luna outside the Library, intent only on going upstairs and climbing into bed. Pavarti was still in the Great Hall with Lavender and Hermione was out of the tower until late, meaning she would have the dormitory to herself. She could close out the world, and her well-meaning friends, even if it was just for a few hours. These plans came to a crashing halt when she was only halfway across the common room.

"Oy, Heather! Over here!" Seamus was waving wildly at her from one of the good armchairs in front of the fire. Taking up two of the three seats next to him were Neville and Dean. The fourth was evidently meant for her.

"Erm, I don't know guys," Heather stammered. "I was jus-" She stopped when Seamus got up and strode confidently towards her, realizing that any excuse she could come up with would quickly be brushed aside. He took her arm in his and gently yet firmly dragged her towards the fire.

"You're going to sit right here," he said with a note of finality that would accept no challenge, pushing Heather into the empty chair between himself and Neville. Lacking any ability to resist, Heather meekly submitted to gravity and fell into the worn armchair.

When she landed there was an audible woomp as the cushion gave way under her. Dean chuckled from Seamus' other side. "Hermione said you'd be difficult. You doing alright?" he asked. He had long since gotten over not making the team, though Heather made sure to keep the quidditch talk down when he was nearby.

"Yeah, I'm….I'm just tired," Heather said, choosing the easy answer over the honest one. As close as she was with her former roommates, she still felt something of a lingering male bond towards them that prevented her from feeling comfortable talking about her feelings. Besides, it wasn't like she wasn't also tired.

Seamus, who was basking in the glow of the fire after his momentary departure turned in his seat to look at her. "You know, you might be able to settle a bet for us," he mused before turning his other cheek to the blaze. He rubbed his hands together greedily.

"What's that?" Heather asked warily, trying to gauge the nature of the bet from Dean's closed expression.

In his most would be casual way that anyone who knew him would see right through, Seamus asked "Any idea who Ginny's seeing?"

Heather shrugged even though Seamus was facing away from her. "No idea," she replied. Dean flashed a look of irritation first at Seamus and then into the fire. Well, that certainly ruled him out as a suspect.

"Oh come on," Seamus practically wailed, whipping his head back around to stare fixedly at her. "You've got to know," he pressed, giving Heather the impression that he had a good deal of gold riding on this bet.

"Sorry, Seamus. I don't," Heather insisted wearily. She noticed that several nearby tables had turned to glance at them at Seamus' outburst and she hunched her shoulders to sink into the chair.

"Oh well," Seamus gave up at a look from Neville that Heather didn't catch. "It's only a matter of time," he finished contentedly. Out of the corner of her eye Heather caught Neville wink at her before rolling his eyes at Seamus, who was once again too engrossed in the warmth to notice.

This brief exchange, after which Heather was finally able to retreat upstairs and rest, ushered in a new routine for her. Now it seemed that even if she managed to evade the attempts of anyone outside Gryffindor Tower to occupy her time, she was unable to avoid the boys. Seamus, Dean, and, when he wasn't also busy being Head Boy, Neville, always managed to catch her before she could reach the staircase and plop her down in a seat. Sometimes Hermione would join them, but mostly she left Heather to her former roommates tender mercies. It was easy talking to them, easier in a way than being around the girls, almost like falling backwards in time to a different life. She began to notice that she was beginning to look forward to spending time with them in the evenings and soon even stopped trying to avoid them. With their help, the common room started to feel less chilly and uncomfortable, at least when they were around.

As October crept along, strongly contrasting to the speed at which September flew by, the bad days became fewer and the good days stretched longer. Her tormentors seemed either unwilling to test their luck again or had decided they'd made their point. No one attempted to break into her trunk again and the galleon, which she often kept clutched in her left hand, remained lifeless. She knew from a test Hermione had done that she would easily be able to feel the coin go off without needing to hold it, even through a thick cloak, but that didn't stop her from constantly cradling it in her palm. There was something about it that comforted her, something beyond the charms laid on it by Hermione.

Even with everyone's help, the darkness still occasionally threatened to overtake her. For days at a time she would feel almost normal, but then it would reach out and hold her tightly. During these days she would wake up feeling so helpless and craving the only thing she had found that could bring relief, the kind that came in a tall, cold bottle. The kind that brought swift oblivion. Hours at a time she would spend contemplating plans for how to smuggle alcohol into the castle, most of which centered around using the passageway hidden by the One-Eyed witch statue. As far as she knew it had been cleared of any traps left by Snape, and there was no indication it had been sealed. In between classes she would find reasons to wander past it, all the while hoping her frequent detours would appear harmless enough to Hermione's eagle eye. After a day or so the fit would pass, and she would recover. The desire, the need to stay sober was continually reinforced by the memory of Kreacher cowering before her and kept her from crossing the line.

The distraction that finally shifted the school's attention off of Heather finally arrived on a Monday halfway through the month. When the usual rush of owls came swooping into the Great Hall during breakfast that morning it did not take long for people to notice and then begin pointing out a dozen owls in their midst. Each of these birds was larger and more regal looking than the usual array of barn and tawnies, and each had an identical letter tied to its leg. They circled high above the rest of the bustle until they spied their targets and dove. A third of their number landed at the Gryffindor table within a few feet of each other. One settled in next to Heather's plate and stared beadily at her while she fumbled with the scroll of parchment. On either side of her Hermione and Ginny were removing their own letters while Neville mimicked them with his own a few seats down. When all four letter were removed, the owls took off immediately. In the hands of a dozen students rested twelve identical rolls bound in silver silk. Ignoring the low muttering that had broken out all around them, they each began to read.

Heather,

I trust you will do me the honor of attending a dinner party the Saturday after next at six o'clock. You are of course permitted and encouraged to bring a guest for the evening. I look forward to your reply, though I trust you remember you have already agreed to attend.

Yours,

Professor Horace Slughorn

"What's up?" asked Dean who was sitting next to Neville. He was gazing around at each of the letter recipients with keen interest. Now that Heather had finished reading, she saw that he wasn't alone. All along the table, and from the neighboring tables as well, students were craning their necks to get a better look at them.

Ginny finished her letter, let out a derisive snort, and promptly crumpled it into a tight ball. "Slughorn's restarting the Slug Club," she said disgustedly, casting the wadded up letter onto the table where it was snatched up by Seamus. He quickly unfolded it and began to read.

"You aren't going to go?" Neville asked dazedly, rereading his own letter for probably the third time. If Heather had to take a guess, he was probably wondering just what he'd done to re-earn an invitation into Slughorn's inner circle. The last time he'd been asked to one of Slughorn's parties it had been as a waiter.

"No," Ginny replied flatly before returning her attention to her breakfast. "I have better things to do than stroke Slughorn's ego."

"Stroking something else are we?" Seamus asked quickly, his smirk almost immediately blossoming into a grimace of pain as Ginny's elbow connected firmly with his stomach.

"What about you, Hermione?" Heather asked over Seamus' gasps for breath, hoping at least one of her friends would be going. She had folded her letter and slipped it carefully into her pocket.

After a moment's consideration Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she said slowly. "I don't really feel like being, how did Dumbledore describe it to you, collected?"

"You seemed to enjoy it well enough in sixth year," Heather countered quickly.

Hermione met her gaze with cool eyes. "Yes, well. Times change," she said stiffly.

Neville had been too busy rereading his letter to overhear this last exchange. After apparently coming to believe that it was genuine and actually addressed to him, he asked Heather, "Are you going?"

Heather shrugged, now aware that more than just those nearby were listening intently. "Don't have a choice," she said resignedly before filling her mouth with too large a spoonful of scrambled eggs. Hermione and Ginny both eyed her quizzically while she worked to swallow. When she could at last make herself understood, Heather explained. "He asked me during our first remedial potions lesson." These lessons were already a widely known secret, courtesy of some unknown student's attempts to spy on her. "He said he wouldn't take no for any answer."

On the other side of Ginny, Seamus had recovered enough from Ginny's direct rebuttal of his attempt at a joke enough to inquire of Neville, "And idea who you're going to ask?" He slid Ginny's letter, which had returned to its place in front of him after about half a dozen other people had read it, back to its original owner. Neville did not reply immediately, and Heather spent the next several minutes pointedly not looking in his direction.

In the blink of an eye, or so it felt, the only topic of conversation to be heard throughout the castle was Slughorn's upcoming dinner party. Students who were aware of Slughorn's reputation as a man who had the ability to make a career worked hard trying to curry the favor of those few on the guest list who were single, hoping to secure their places as guests so that they might have the chance of attracting Slughorn's attentions. When word got out that neither Hermione or Ginny were planning to attend, it caused a flurry of speculation on who Slughorn might invite to make up their number. Their many hopes were dashed however when no extra invitations were issued.

Beyond herself and Neville, it was not hard to learn who else had been invivted. In fact, it would have been nearly impossible not too. From his own house Slughorn had invited Blaise Zabini and two twins who had been members of the Slug Club during Heather's sixth year named Carrow. Ernie Macmillan was the sole Hufflepuff to be included, but Heather had never heard of the three Ravenclaws on the list before. Every time Heather saw any of the three boys over the next few days they were always in the company of at least six girls, all of whom were practically hanging off of them. Unlike Neville, who seemed to be doing his best to fend off the simpering mobs, Ernie and Blaise looked as though they were enjoying the attention. Ernie was certainly not objecting too loudly when Heather passed him in the library surrounded by a knot of pretty girls from several different houses.

To her relief, Heather managed to avoid most of this attention. For one thing no one approached her or tried to curry favor so she might invite them. It was most likely because of this slip into the social background that she was able to hear the low mutterings that flowed around and underneath the excited gossip. Not everyone in the castle was eager to see the return of the Slug Club. Initially, after hearing the reasons for this, Heather found herself agreeing with them. Those unhappy with the situation complained loudly about a professor so obviously choosing favorites. "Teachers aren't supposed to do that", they argued and Heather silently agreed with them.

Even amongst the Gryffindor quidditch team there was an uncurrent of resentment over the upcoming party. After practice one night Heather listened in as Natalie and Peakes loudly expounded on how unfair the situation was, apparently uncaring that their captain was one of those few who had been invited. Rather than being upset, Heather was about to join in and agree with them when Demelza whispered into her ear. "They're planning something," she said quietly.

"Who is, and about what?" Heather asked, her blood chilling by several degrees.

"The party," hissed Demelza. "They're planning on doing something about Slughorn's party."

Heather narrowed her eyes. "You mean?" she casually motioned towards their teammates.

Demelza shook her head fervently. "No, not them. Just…some people."

Relieved, but only slightly, Heather pressed, "Demelza, what are they going to do?"

Looking ashen, Demelza muttered, "I…I don't know, I swear. Just…just don't go to the party. It won't be safe." Then she was racing out of the tent before Heather could ask any further questions.

That night in the common room, Heather settled into a chair at a table with Hermione but did not immediately begin working on her homework like she'd planned. Once again she found herself sweeping the circular room, trying to determine who might be responsible for whatever plan Demelza had been hinting at. After ten minutes she had decided that nothing she saw warranted any immediate concern. Everyone she could see was sitting with their usual friend group or by themselves, aimlessly chatting amongst themselves or working on homework like she was supposed to be doing. Still, even as she pulled out her transfiguration textbook and began working through charts and diagrams, the tiny hairs on her neck refused to settle themselves.

Next morning, the Gryffindors were greeted on their way downstairs to breakfast by a large announcement pinned to the notice board proclaiming that the first Hogsmeade trip of the term would take place this coming Saturday. Now the partygoers and their dates would be able to get some shopping done and everyone else could blow off some steam in the village for a few hours.

Naturally, Heather assumed she would be going down with Hermione and Ginny, possibly meeting up with Luna or some of their other friends while they were there. She hurriedly scribbled a letter to Ron letting him know, to be mailed off after her first lesson of the day. Hopefully he would have the weekend off work and would be able to come. It would be good to see him. Only after receiving a reply from him that afternoon saying he would definitely be coming did she broach the subject with her friends and was amazed at their answers. Hermione flatly rejected the idea of going and Ginny ended up being so cagey about her plans that Heather momentarily did not know which battle she wanted to fight first. She settled on Hermione.

"Why aren't you going?" she asked in mild exasperation, already expecting she knew the answer.

From behind a large textbook in a language that only she at the table could read, Hermione replied curtly, "I just can't. I can't just leave the castle like that anymore."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Ginny groaned. She was doodling on some spare parchment to avoid working on her Charm's assignment and was apparently content that Heather had chosen to leave her be, even if it was temporary. "You are allowed to have fun, you know?"

Hermione's book lowered a fraction of an inch, over which she glowered at both of them before vanishing from sight again. "It's not right," she insisted.

Heather's head was beginning to pound. It had been twinging since they'd gotten out of their last lesson with Professor Maufe and the last thing she'd been expecting was a fight over something as mundane as a trip to Hogsmeade. "Hermione," she said patiently and then waited for Hermione to reemerge before continuing. "I say this with love. You are probably the most uptight Head we've had since Percy Weasley." Hermione's face clouded darkly, and Heather held up a hand. "And even he went into Hogsmeade on weekends." She reached out and deftly plucked the massive volume from her friend's grip and laid it gently on the table. "You're going."

Hermione's eyes remained nothing more than narrow slits for several heartbeats until they relaxed. "You're right, you're right. Okay, I'll go. But we can't stay too long," she added over her friend's chuckling.

Heather rolled her eyes as Hermione picked up her book and resumed reading. Now that one of her friends had seen sense, it was time to work on the other. "So why aren't you coming with us?" she turned on Ginny before she could prepare herself.

"I…I might see you down there," Ginny blanched, continuing to doodle as the color drained from her face.

Heather leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She tried to mimic one of Mrs. Weasley's impatient glare, although with only limited success. Her head had now progressed from throbbing to pounding. Just once couldn't she have less difficult friends? "Why don't you just tell us who you're seeing and get it over with?" Out of the corner of her vision, Heather saw Hermione's book drop an inch as she listened in from behind it.

"No one," Ginny protested, her blush giving away the lie. To get away from this line of questioning, she began to repack her school bag despite having done no work since sitting down at their table.

"Fine, fine," Heather gave up, throwing her hands into the air. "Don't tell me. No need to get up, I'm going to dinner." Without waiting for either of them she got up and left, again wishing that her friends could be at least marginally less frustrating.

She was halfway through her first helping of roast beef when Hermione slid into a place on the bench next to her. "Where's Ginny?" Heather asked.

Hermione shrugged and looked back towards the doors into the Entrance Hall. "No idea. She said she'd be along at some point."

No matter how many times since third year Hermione had tried to convince Heather to eat slowly it had never taken hold. As usual, she was done eating long before Hermione was even done with her first helping. By now the Gryffindor table was packed and Heather decided that rather than wait for Hermione, she would take advantage of the empty common room to get some work done. After standing, she looked along the table in either direction, noting that Ginny's head of red hair was nowhere to be seen. She shrugged, maybe she'd run into her on her way back to the tower.

Lost in thought, she did not realize that someone was following her. Halfway up the Marble Staircase, Neville appeared in her peripheral vision, making her jump mid step. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, taking a half step back. "I didn't mean to startle you. Mind if I walk with you?"

"Erm, yeah," Heather said, her train of thought now completely wrecked even as she berated herself for letting anyone, even a friend, get the drop on her. As they walked along the first floor corridor, she cast around her mind for the first topic of conversation she could think of. "Know who you're taking to the party?" she blurted out, instantly regretting this choice.

"No," Neville shook his head. He had slowed his pace so that she wouldn't need to walk faster to keep up with his longer legs. "How about you?" he continued after a few moment of silence.

Chuckling despite her sudden discomfort, Heather said "No one. Can't say I really want to go so why bother making someone else endure it with me." She chose not to mention that no one had asked her, feeling like this might strain her own decision to see Neville as only a friend. Anyway, the thought of dating anyone right now felt strange to her. Or…did it?

A swooping sensation crossed her midriff, upsetting her now overly full stomach as she realized this was the first time in months that they had been alone together. The first time since that night after the Order of Merlin Ceremony and they had kissed in front of the Burrow. Hoping fervently that her cheeks were not a luminous red, she hid her face behind a long strand of hair so he wouldn't notice. Why was she reacting this way to his presence all of a sudden? Cold chills were racing along her spine and limbs while at the same time a warmth bubbled up from her stomach.

He laughed, and Heather hoped that meant he was unaware of the effect he was having on her. Of course, the sound of it only intensified the sensation. "I think your company would make up for having to put up with Slughorn," he said, half glancing at her as he said it.

She gulped as time seemed to stop. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? And, if he was, did she want him to ask the question? I mean, she had chosen weeks ago not to pursue him, and her reasoning had been sound for doing so, hadn't it? Now her arguments felt feeble and were easily brushed aside by the fire that had migrated up into her chest. She tried to push it back. He was a friend, a very good friend recently. She didn't want to disturb that.

That was certainly true, and his friendship had never once been in question. He had been there for her long before learning who she really was, and hadn't even faltered when he learned the truth. He had stood by her, even helping her through the depths of her depression without her even being aware of it. Even now she still felt comfortable in his presence even while her entire body shivered, especially after their evenings together in the common room with Seamus and Dean. So why was this simple conversation setting her nerves on edge? "Neville," she choked out, wishing her voice didn't sound so parched to her own ears, "can I ask you something?" Then she paused as two very different questions tried to force themselves out of her mouth at the same time.

"Sure, anything," he replied easily enough, either oblivious to the fit Heather was going to or having enough tact to be able to pretend. He checked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone in the corridor and Heather thought she saw a flicker of uncertainty cross his face, despite his casual tone.

Deciding at last on one question, Heather stammered, "Well, we umm…haven't really talked about…you know. Not since the summer." She had to take several deep breaths before continuing. "I just wondered because…well, you know. We've been spending a lot of time together…I just wondered…" she trailed off, losing the question she had meant to ask and realizing how badly she was fumbling just to sound coherent.

"I remember what you said that night, Heather," Neville said gently, relieving her of the need to finish her question.

"Y-you do?" she asked, still not able to keep her voice under control while a dozen follow up questions raced across her mind.

Neville smiled. "You want us to be just friends. I'm not looking to change that. I just thought that since enough people want to treat you horribly even after everything you've done for us, you deserve to have your friends close."

Friends. Just Friends. That was the only thing he said that fully registered in her ears. He wanted to be friends, nothing more. She was so caught up in those two words, to the point that she could almost see them floating in the air before her, that she completely missed whatever it was he said next.

"Heather, you alright?" he asked from several paces in front of her. At some point she had stopped walking without being aware of it.

"W-what?" she asked, shaking her head to clear the buzzing that swarmed her ears. "Y-yeah, sorry. Just got distracted by something." She took a few paces forward to where he waited for her.

"Did…did I say something wrong?" Neville asked quietly, looking at her with a concern that almost broke her heart.

She was on the tip of blurting out "Yes," when she stopped herself. What had he said wrong? They were friends, good friends certainly but if that's all he wanted to be then wasn't that alright with her? Why was this so difficult to wrap her head around? "No," she said at last. "Nothing wrong, just got lost in thought. I'm really glad we're friends."

"Me too," he said cheerfully and continued walking.

A silence fell between them that felt impossible to break. By contrast, the inside of Heather's head was anything but quiet. Her heart pounded in her ears and her head throbbed. She was amazed that he couldn't hear it, as close as he was standing. Surely the noise was echoing off the walls with how loud it sounded to her.

"Did you hear that?" Neville asked suddenly, halfway along the fifth floor corridor.

"What? No," Heather replied, wondering if he had actually been able to hear her heartbeat after all. Then, from somewhere further along up ahead came a muffled thump. Warily, Neville crept forward, immediately sliding into a position in front of Heather as they approached a door on the left-hand side of the corridor. The door was not closed all the way, leaving enough of a crack that one of them would be able to peer through it at a time. Taking stock of their location, Heather knew from her long wanderings of the castle that it led into an unused classroom.

At a wave from Neville, she crept forward and glanced around the edge. The classroom was dimly lit, but there was enough like to see that at least one person was inside. It wasn't Peeves, which had been her first suspicion, and it only took half a second for her to recognize Ginny. She was leaning against a desk with her back to the door, with a pair of robed arms encircling her, the hand of one of them working its way up the back of her neck into her thick locks. The desk thudded into its neighbor again as Ginny and her unknown snogging partner rotated on the spot. Long hair tied into a long plait fell over yellow trimmed robes, at last identifying Ginny's mystery date. It was Susan Bones.

Heather recoiled in shock and amazement, immediately intending to drag Neville away before he could take a look. Her eyes were full of her friend's passionate embrace, driving away the tension that had suffused her only moments ago. She tried to close the door quietly so they would have some privacy, counting on their bliss to distract them from any noise. To her utter horror however, the hinges of the wooden door let out a long, loud squeal. To Heather it might have been the cry of a banshee in the otherwise still air of the corridor.

Choosing discretion, she bolted, leaving a very confused Neville in her wake. She was half a dozen steps away when the door swung open again and Susan stuck her head out into the corridor. Heather froze, not looking around, waiting.

"Well, I guess that kneazle's out of the knapsack," Susan sighed.

"Oh…wow," Neville stammered. When Heather turned around, she could see him glancing back and forth between Susan and Ginny, who must have been lingering inside the doorway out of her sight. Understanding blossomed across Neville's face, which turned a shade of bright pink. "I…I'm just going to…" before any of them could stop him, he raced away up the corridor.

"Well, want to come in?" Susan asked, pushing the door open wider and gesturing to Heather to come inside.

Heather took two steps and stopped. "I swear we didn't mean to see anything. We thought we heard a noise and…"
"It's alright. Come on in, best to talk about this in privacy," Susan said, grabbing a handful of Heather's robes and bodily pulling her into the not so empty classroom.

Ginny looked paler than Heather could ever remember her being. She stood rooted to the spot just inside the doorway as Susan sealed it behind her and Heather. Once it was locked she gently grabbed Ginny's hand and guided her back towards the center of the room to where a chair sat.

"You alright?" Heather asked, pulling a chair over for herself and collapsing into it. She didn't think she could take another massive revelation tonight.

Susan glanced once at Ginny, who remained stone still, before resting a hand gently on her shoulder. "Babe?" she asked in a concerned voice.

Ginny blinked twice very slowly before her eyes finally found Heather. "Sorry, a lot just happened."

Thinking back on her conversation with Neville, Heather agreed. "Tell me about it." When no one spoke, she coughed and then asked, "So how long have you two been…"

"I believe the word you're looking for is snogging," Susan chuckled. She squeezed Ginny's shoulder reassuringly. Slowly Ginny's head drifted sideways until it came to rest against Susan's midriff.

"Err, right. Yeah, so how long?" Heather asked again.

"Since I could convince this one that I was hot enough for her," Susan replied, patting the top of Ginny's head affectionately.

Ginny managed a weak glare upwards at her. "You were always hot enough," she said quietly.

"Oh, I know," Susan retorted confidently. "Still, took some convincing to get you to notice."

Both of them rolled their eyes at each other in a way that told Heather she had been momentarily forgotten. Now that her own shock was wearing off, she had to admit that they were cute together. She told them so.

"Thanks," Ginny said, breaking eye contact with Susan at the sound of Heather's voice. Yeah, she had forgotten that Heather was sitting there. "I'm really sorry I hid it from you. I don't know why I didn't just tell you."

"I understand," Heather replied honestly.

"Does this mean you're ready to tell other people now?" asked Susan. The little color that had returned to Ginny's face drained again. "Oh, come on. You're hot, I'm hot, your best friend just said we're the cutest couple she's ever seen," Susan said exasperatedly. Heather let this exaggeration of her statement go and focused on Ginny.

"I know…I just…" Ginny stammered.

"You're scared about being looked at differently by everyone you know," Heather answered for her. It was a feeling she knew all too well.

"Yeah," Ginny replied thankfully, leaning her head against Susan again. It was strange, Heather thought, to see Ginny, someone who had always been so outwardly confident and sure of herself, now tightly clinging to someone for emotional support. It was like seeing an entirely different person sitting there.

Heather reached out and scooped up one of her friend's hands. "Well, I think you're both adorable together. So, be happy. Just, let's remember to keep the door locked from now on, alright?"

Susan snorted. "You've got that right."

"Thanks, Heather," Ginny said, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing it.

"Right," Heather said, standing up and moving back towards the exit. Susan was very clearly giving off the impression that she had unfinished business with Ginny that Heather's presence was now preventing. "See you back in the common room," she said to Ginny before beating a hasty retreat and firmly closing the door behind her. She wasted no time gaining some distance from where two of her friends were making each other quite happy. It was nice to see. Andromeda had been right, the world needed more love in it, and love of all sorts.

It was hard for her to gauge exactly how she felt as she walked back to Gryffindor Tower. There was no question about being happy for Ginny and Susan, and for a little while she was more interested in focusing on them than on what had happened between her and Neville. She thought about asking Hermione's opinion, then remembered that Hermione was off being Head Girl tonight and wouldn't return until late. Ginny was most likely going to be too busy to be of any assistance for some time to come, and in any case, Heather was hesitant to trouble her with this. Her reluctance to include Ginny was primarily out of respect for Ginny's new relationship, but if she was being honest with herself Heather still had not entirely forgiven her for keeping so much about Neville from her in the first place.

She decided in the end to remain focused on the positivity of that new relationship rather than on her other troubles. Her good mood, however, was not meant to last. As she climbed into the common room, she caught sight of something that made her insides rage with fury. Neville was sitting in his usual seat in front of the fire with Seamus and Dean, who must have finished dinner while Heather had been with Ginny and Susan. Though she had no desire to join them tonight and place herself back in close proximity to Neville, it was not an option in any case. Instead of the fourth chair being left open, Romilda had taken it and was doing her very best to ensure that Neville's attention was solely focused on her. Heather could hardly describe it as sitting, rather Romilda was lying across the armchair showing off as much of her lithe form as possible. Her eyes were locked on Neville and she had put on her most sultry look of desire that Heather knew she reserved only for the boys she wanted to ensnare in her web. Even as Heather watched Romilda reach out with her delicate looking hand and rested it on Neville's arm.

It was some relief that Neville did not appear to be relishing the attention, and in fact was trying to ignore Romilda by talking over her to Seamus. What Seamus thought of the scene was written plainly in the smirk plastered on his face. Apparently, something Neville said to him was highly amusing because Romilda let out a cackle of laughter that promptly drew his gaze down to her.

Heather was two steps into what almost turned into a mad sprint towards the horrid bitch when she stopped short. What was she going to do? Yank her down and claim Neville for herself? That would hardly be appropriate, especially considering that she had no designs on him, or did she? It was all too confusing. As she moved, several pairs of eyes turned on her, including Romilda's.

Both witches locked eyes and electricity filled the air between them. Heather blinked first, trying her best to both appear and feel that nothing Romilda was doing affected her, even as her insides screamed for blood. She turned on the spot and strode as casually as possible towards the girl's staircase, pointedly ignoring Dean's call for her to join them. Once she was out of sight she bolted upstairs and flung herself into bed, not understanding this time as tears coursed down her face.