All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

(Each title is derived from a song that, I believe, complements the overall narrative, if not the individual chapter.)

* This Chapter contains snippets of the original chapter from Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince.

Hogwarts Still February 1997

Draco's Point of View

Draco was beside himself with fury and fear because the Dark Lord had asked his 'friend' Crabbe to check on his progress. Despite this, he had also withheld what exactly it was that he had ordered Draco to do.

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall in a stern voice, startling me from my whispered argument with Crabbe. Reminding me that we were having another Apparition lesson in the Great Hall, and despite the fact that I really did not want to be here, I was aware that I needed to learn how to do this. If I ever got the chance to escape Voldemort's clutches with my parents, this was a skill that would be vital. I flushed in embarrassment and fury as everyone turned to look at me and I walked away from Crabbe, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. Unfortunately, the hulking gorilla who called himself my friend was too stupid to drop the subject.

"Draco, the Dark Lord is growing impatient with your lack of progress," he told me. He thought for a few moments, his typically flat and unattractive face contorting as if the task was a strenuous one, "he demands to know when you will complete your task, or else you will face his wrath. Just tell me how much longer, and I can send a message letting him know," he said as if that were the most reasonable proposition in the world.

"I don't know how much longer, alright?" I shot back at him. I barely had a moment to myself these days. I hardly attended classes, and I spent the majority of my days in the damned Room of Requirement attempting to make the old cupboard work. The ancient book I was using was hard to decipher, and I had had to come up with a whole new rune schemes in my efforts to repair it.

So far, my tests had not been overly successful, and if I thought that, even for a minute, I could trick the evil dick into it and live to talk about it, I would tell him to come now. Unfortunately, I was aware that he was not the one planning on entering the school. The stolen moments in the Room of Forgotten Truths, or RoFT, as I had named it, were the only moments I took for myself now.

Crabbe opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"Listen, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe. You and Goyle just do as you have obviously been ordered and act as lookout!" I said with an authority I was aware I didn't really have anymore, but hoped Crabbe was still stupid enough not to realise that.

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," the hateful voice of Potter said from behind me, startling me. In an instant, I spun around, my hand to my wand, but all four Heads of House shouted, "Quiet!" stilling my hand. I gave him a glower and moved over to another hoop, determined to ignore everyone and master this skill. Still, I was furious with myself for my lack of discretion and speaking where I could be overheard.

Hogwarts March 1997

Hermione's Point of View

Lavender had broken up with Ron just before the Hogsmeade weekend, which ended up being cancelled anyway due to what had happened to Katie in November. Apparently Lavender and Cormac McLaggen were now an item, and Ron had spent the last week walking around with a miserable expression on his face. I found it intriguing that I wasn't as satisfied by their breakup as I expected to be, but had noticed that my feelings for him had diminished a bit. It was better this way, and it made our friendship bearable again.

I also accepted that I was, obviously, involved in a secret love affair that I was hiding even from myself, but the evidence was something only an imbecile would miss. The secretiveness was thrilling, though, and because I didn't even know who it was, or so I convinced myself as I refused to contemplate who I suspected, I didn't feel too guilty keeping the secret from my friends. My guilt came from breaking the rules and getting away with it, even though that, in itself, added to the thrill.

Ron's 17th birthday was on the first, and the three of us spent the whole morning giggling and gossiping like old times. I had snuck into the boys' dorm early and decorated it with conjured golden balloons and streamers.

Harry had given him a set of new Keeper's gloves; he got a wristwatch from his parents; and, much to my own astonishment, I had somehow come up with the idea to get him a fixed-blade hunting knife with a leather sheath. I had spelled the sheath and blade so that if Ron ever dropped or lost the knife, it would reappear in the sheath. He and Harry had both been impressed with the gift and joked about how it was going to revert to a book later on. I had rolled my eyes at the suggestion but laughed along with them.

The castle was chilly and gloomy, but we didn't mind. Ginny had soon joined us, and we enjoyed a scrumptious cake that Harry had ordered from the kitchens for breakfast. Ginny had produced butterbeer and pumpkin pasties, explaining that the twins had sent the butterbeer. The room was filled with the scent of cinnamon and honey and the sound of the crackling fire and howling wind. It was wonderfully satisfying to experience, as if nothing had changed and we were still those children who had first bonded over Trolls and Cerberus.

The only thing that marred the day was the constant knowledge of the dark and terrible things that were happening outside of the castle walls in our world. Because of this knowledge, however, we treasured every moment of our celebration and vowed to stick together no matter what the future held.

When we were all about to leave the room to go to lunch, and in my hope, a real meal that included healthy choices, Harry opened his trunk and began rummaging through it, tossing out half the contents until he came across his map. I shared an amused look with Ginny, and we linked arms, leaving the room, knowing the boys would catch up shortly.

"I promised to go meet Demelza," Ginny said to me once we were downstairs.

"Ok. I'll see you later," I agreed with a nod. The boys came clattering down the stairs a moment later. After lunch, the boys headed off for a bit of Quidditch practice, so I decided to go study.

I was busy working on an assignment for Herbology, and I didn't even look up when the door opened; I didn't want to lose my train of thought. Draco came over and kissed me on the neck but otherwise said nothing, knowing I liked quiet when I worked. His lips were warm and gentle, and I felt a surge of affection for him.

When I was finally done, I looked over to see him staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, and looking quite disturbed by whatever was on his mind. His eyes were dark and haunted, and his face was pale and tense. I got up and laid down next to him, head on his chest, glad when he brought his arm down around me. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and reassuring.

Lately, he seemed to take longer to come back from wherever he disappeared to in his mind, and as we continued to prove, talking was dangerous. He had accidentally let slip the last time that 'Voldemort wanted Dumbledore dead' and had shaken so badly, at whatever else he was keeping to himself, he had caused a nosebleed. The look on his face had terrified me. It wasn't that the room was pushing to reveal it; it was more that he was afraid of speaking those truths.

I wanted to comfort him to tell him that everything would be alright and that we would find a way out of this mess. But I knew that would be a lie. We were both in too deep, both playing a dangerous game. At times, I still couldn't believe that I had allowed myself to fall in love with him, to risk discovery just for these stolen moments with him. He was the enemy with a Dark Mark on his arm. This time last year, I would have admitted anyone to St. Mungo's who even suggested that I could love my childhood tormentor.

"Did Weasley like his birthday present?" He asked in a monotone, breaking into my thoughts.

"Yes, thank you for your help." I felt him nod above me.

"Did you finish your work?" he asked, still looking at the ceiling that still had the stars and moon from Valentine's Day. The room was better this way; not so bright.

"Yes," I said, moving my head so I could look up at him. "Are you planning on kissing me now?" His lips lifted into a smile before he turned his head to look down at me.

"Dying to," he admitted, and then did just that. He took his time and looked at me as if I might disappear from beneath his fingers as he undressed me. The stress on his face barely dissolved, even when we lay naked against each other.

"How do I bring your smile back?" I asked sadly as I held him close to my naked breasts.

"Just be you. That is all I require. I'll be alright. I… I need only to solve a problem, and then I will be alright," he promised. I nodded, knowing this was another of those things I wouldn't ask about. Sometimes I felt like a coward—not like a Gryffindor at all—but I wasn't willing to lose this to the truths he was keeping to himself. He leaned down to kiss me again when someone tried the door and then knocked.

"Mione', are you in there? Ron is in the hospital wing," Harry said.

"What?" I said, startled, even as Draco looked down at me with annoyance at the interruption.

I heard his head hit the door on the other side, and he said, "Someone picked up that box of Chocolate Cauldrons I got from Romilda Vane at Christmas time and put them on Ron's bed. I suppose they thought they were a birthday gift that had fallen on the ground. He also got poisoned by oak-mature mead, that I am sure Malfoy is responsible for," he said, sounding accusing and angry again. I narrowed my eyes on Draco, who had literally turned into a statue in my arms. "Will you come to the infirmary with me?"

I closed my eyes and took a breath of calm, then called out, "I'll meet you there in a few minutes, Harry," while looking into Draco's grey eyes with anger. "You, I will deal with later," I hissed in a whisper, making him wince but nod.

"I could just wait for you," Harry insisted.

"Give me two minutes. I'll meet you in the corridor," I replied.

"Okay," Harry agreed, and we heard him walk away.

"I am going to lose you again, aren't I?" Draco said, miserably as he rolled over.

"No," I said angrily, jumping to my feet and starting to dress hurriedly. "But don't think for a minute that I won't be speaking with you about this when I can come back." I gave my hair a quick brush, grabbed my bag, and stormed out of the room without looking back. I didn't get a chance to go back that night.

The next day I returned to the room, and I expected him to arrive, looking as guilty as I wanted him to be, but he never came. I waited for hours, at first pacing with anger and thinking of all kinds of things to say to him about the recent event. But the more hours ticked by, the more worried I became, and I found myself staring at the door, hoping to hear his footsteps in the hallway.

The next day was another no-show, and the day after that. I was getting downright scared that I had ruined all that we had built together. That my warning had prompted him to write something that would stop him from returning. I felt like I was going crazy with worry and guilt. When the door finally opened four days later, I launched myself into his arms before he had a chance to process his memories, but soon he was holding me just as tightly.

"I wasn't certain I wasn't being attacked, for a moment there," he tried to joke, but he sounded more tired than I had ever heard him sound, and when I leaned back to look at his face, it was pale and the circles under his eyes were darker than ever. He smelled of sweat, and his clothes were dirty, and small rips were in places. He kissed my forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I had to complete a rune sequence. I had to demonstrate I was making progress." He hugged me again and buried his face in my hair. I felt a wetness on my neck and realised he was crying silently.

I stroked his back and said, "Its alright, its alright. You're here now. You're safe." I didn't ask him what he had done nor how a rune sequence had led to the state he was in now. I knew it was nothing I could know, not if I wanted to keep my own sanity. I just wanted to hold him and forget everything that had happened recently. "Come and lie down. You need to sleep," I told him, and the fact that he just nodded and followed spoke volumes about how exhausted he was.

"Will you hold me as I sleep? I know I will be safe to sleep with your arms around me," he asked, and didn't seem to realise that tears were still trailing down his exhausted, pale face.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised. The only things I did do were make sure the door was barred with the chair and removed his shoes. I held him for hours before I finally fell asleep myself.

The next week and a half seemed to bring back the normalcy of our routine. I went to class, and he disappeared into the Room of Requirement. We did our homework, though I never inquired what subject he was working on. I spent time with my friends while he seemed to mostly ignore his, but thankfully and happily, we still spent time together. He taught me how to play wizard chess, and I still thought it was barbaric; we laughed, joked, teased, kissed, and made love as often as we could. We were happy in the room and more in love than I thought it was healthy for two people to be.

"I am starving. Will you be a dear and grab an apple out of my bag?" I asked sweetly, batting my eyelids with exaggeration. He kissed me on the nose, making me giggle, and leaned over my naked and replete body to reach into it.

"What kind of potion is this?" He asked, pulling a little plastic bottle of green fluid from my bag sitting up to study it.

"Mouthwash," I answered.

"You put this green fluid in your mouth?" He asked me with horror. I smirked because I knew that green was mostly a bad colour in his world and wondered briefly if that was why Slytherin had chosen it.

"Burns too, but leaves deliciously, minty fresh breath; want to try some?"

"I think I will pass," he said, putting it back in my bag. "I have no desire to set the inside of my mouth on fire."

"Chicken," I teased with a laugh as he handed me my apple. I sat up, holding the blanket to my chest.

"Witch," he said, seeing I was covered, and then grinned at his own joke.

"Are you going to Potions this afternoon?" I asked and then took a bite of my apple.

"I'm left with no choice. Slughorn is threatening to fail me," he said with annoyance. I didn't comment on that and just focused on eating my apple.

That afternoon potions class, Draco's Point of View

I had once loved potions. I had loved the fragrances, the sound of a cauldron simmering away, and even the chaos it often entailed. Now I merely found it to be an annoying distraction, and if it weren't for Slughorn threatening to fail me, I wouldn't have been here. I had far more important things to do with my time than watch the old wizard fawn over Harry Potter and Granger, although I rather liked watching her myself.

I didn't care about anything much these days except completing my mission for the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger, even though I didn't always understand how that secret relationship had come about. I had tried to kill Dumbledore earlier in the school year, but even I understood that the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead had been half-hearted at best. The simple fact is that I had no desire to kill anyone, not even Dumbledore. The items had both failed to reach their target, and the Vanishing Cabinet was still broken. Time was running out for me, a fact I was acutely aware of.

I was acutely aware of the dire consequences of failure. The Dark Lord had made it abundantly clear recently, using my own 'friends' to send the message that if I didn't succeed, my family and I would pay the price. I had witnessed firsthand the horrors Voldemort inflicted upon those who failed to meet his expectations, and I had no desire to share their fate. I was terrified of what would happen if I failed.

But I was also exhausted. I had been working on the Vanishing Cabinet as much as humanly possible, and evading House Elves had become a new obstacle to overcome. Thank Salazar for Jomny.

I had also been reading every book I could lay my hands on about Dark Magic and Curses, hoping to find a way to kill Dumbledore, if only that became absolutely necessary. I had been completely avoiding my 'friends' since the message was delivered, attempting to keep a low profile and not attract further attention. Thankfully, I still had my original lookouts, and Crabbe and Goyle still floated around as though they thought the Dark Lord would know if they failed in their own mission to make certain I had the privacy to complete my project.

I was living in a constant state of fear and anxiety and was dreading going home at the end of the week. Yet, I was acutely aware that the Dark Lord expected me, and you don't disobey the Dark Lord, not unless you have a particular fondness for courting death.

I had no time for potions. I was devoid of time for anything. How I wished I could just skip the class and go back to the Room of Requirement, or better yet, the Room of Forgotten Truths, where I had written that I was happiest. But that was out of the question. Slughorn would notice my absence and report it to Dumbledore, and then I would be forced to face the old wizard, conscious that I had attempted to kill him and would most likely be attempting once again when my master demanded it of me.

So, I forced myself to attend the potions class, praying it would be over swiftly. I settled into my customary spot with Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were as clueless as ever. I took out my textbook and my cauldron and endeavoured to focus on the task at hand. A derisive snort escaped me when I glanced at the board and discovered the class was concocting the Draught of Living Death.

I felt a surge of irony. A draught of living death. That's what I felt like: a walking corpse, doomed to die at any moment. I pondered if drinking the potion would make any difference. Maybe it would be better than living like this.

I shook my head slightly, attempting to dispel my thoughts. I couldn't think like that. I needed to maintain my focus. My gaze drifted over to Granger, who appeared flushed and sweaty, with her warm brown, curly hair looking wild, even clipped back from her face, and somehow still outshining every other witch in this school. I couldn't imagine what kind of spell I had cast that would make her willing to spend time with me, even if it was in secret.

As I was turning away, I caught sight of Pansy watching me, and I narrowed my eyes at her with a sneer of contempt. She averted her gaze angrily, going back to cutting up ingredients. I was relieved that I was finally done with her, that we didn't have a daft contract binding us together anymore.

I glanced back at my own table, where Crabbe and Goyle were still staring blankly at their cauldrons. I was all too aware that their presence in this N.E.W.T.-level class was solely due to my assistance. However, I was done helping them. I felt a pang of loneliness. I wished I had someone to talk to—someone who understood me, someone who cared about me. I resisted the urge to look back at Granger, but I did wonder if I felt less lonely when I was with her. I hoped so.

I exhaled deeply and rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. The stuffy room was making it worse. I allowed myself a moment to shut my eyes and attempted to ignore the pain. I endeavoured to ignore everything around me and went back to the potion, but my only desire was for the class to be over.

Sudden gasps from the opposite side of the room drew my gaze that way, just in time to witness Granger collapse onto the floor. I felt a wave of concern wash over me, and I had to suppress a frown from forming on my face. Both Potter and Weasley were on their knees, attempting to rouse her. I wished I could join them and lend my aid, but I was painfully aware that her two overly protective friends would never welcome my presence.

A chorus of laughter and taunts erupted from the Slytherin's at the spectacle, but Slughorn silenced them with sharp words. "Enough of that, you lot! This is no laughing matter!" He bellowed, hurrying over to Granger's side. "What happened here? Did she drink something she shouldn't have?"

Potter shook his head frantically. "No, sir, she was just working on her potion, and then she suddenly fainted. We don't know why."

Slughorn frowned and waved his wand over Granger's body, muttering some incantations. He looked puzzled and concerned until comprehension crossed his face. "Oh dear, I'll have to take her to the hospital wing right away. The rest of you, pack up your things and leave quietly. Class is dismissed." He lifted Granger's limp form with a flick of his wand and headed for the door.

"Sir, should we come with you?" Potter asked, and Slughorn looked a little strange at the request.

"Ah, no, I don't think that would be appropriate at the moment," he said, and then exited the room leaving her friends seeming both confused and worried. I understood the feeling. Everyone else quickly gathered their belongings and exited the room, whispering among themselves. Aware there was nothing I could do, I gathered my belongings and headed straight to the Room of Requirement. I should have been there anyway.

The infirmary, Hermione's Point of View

I woke to find myself in the infirmary, with Madam Pomphrey waving her wand over me, Professor Slughorn standing near the end of the bed, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed, and Professor Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to me, looking tired and concerned. I felt a surge of panic at the looks on their faces and tried to sit up, but Madam Pomphrey gently pushed me back down.

"Easy, Miss Granger. You need to rest," she said to me. I looked at her questioningly, wondering what she meant.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, fear in my voice.

Professor Dumbledore sighed and said softly, "You are expecting a child, my dear." His blue eyes were full of compassion and understanding, but there was also a touch of disappointment. I gasped and touched my belly as I felt the world spin around me.

"This can't be happening. I wouldn't let that happen," I whispered out loud, but the words were for me and my disbelief.

"I am afraid it is true, my dear. You fainted in my class, and my scan proved it. Madam Pomphrey has just confirmed it," Professor Slughorn said, still looking and sounding embarrassed while rubbing his fingers together.

"Is there someone you would like me to summon for you?" Professor Dumbledore asked me, reaching out to take my hand in comfort.

"Like whom?" I asked uncomprehendingly, feeling a little shocky.

"Here, take this," Madam Pomphrey said, handing me a small phial of blue Calming Draught. My hands shook as I drank it.

"Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley, for example?" He said, studying my face for my reaction, but I still wasn't understanding; despite the Calming Draught, I still wasn't really tracking the conversation, and my mind was screaming that a mistake had been made. Yet a small voice, a more logical voice, knew the possibility was certainly true.

"Why on earth would I want either of them to know about this?" I asked in alarm and surprise at the very idea. Professor Dumbledore and the other two all shared looks that I was too distracted with my own thoughts to notice.

"Surely, Miss Granger, you would like one of them to be aware of this? I am sure Mr. Potter will understand," Professor Dumbledore said gently.

"He is not going to find out. Nobody is!" I raised my voice, getting more alarmed by the second.

"Miss Granger, you really do need to calm yourself. It is not healthy for your child," Madam Pomphrey said, making my eyes widen at the words. "Take this," she said, handing me another Calming Draught. I took it, and this one seemed to take the edge off my panic; I could think again at least, but I really didn't like the thoughts swirling through my brain. Tears gathered in my eyes, and I blinked a few times, fighting them back.

"Hermione," Professor Dumbledore said, drawing my attention back to him with a comforting squeeze to my hand. "It is, I believe, within his rights to be privy to this information," he said gently but meaningfully.

"How so?" I asked, still confused by his line of thought.

"Well, in circumstances such as these..." he started, and my brain finally processed what he was getting at.

"Dear Merlin, no! Harry is like my brother," I said, appalled by the very idea.

"Mr. Weasley, then?" Professor Dumbledore suggested.

"No. Not him either," I replied, feeling embarrassed, confused, and suddenly very alone.

"My apologies; I should know better than to make assumptions." He sat and looked at me for a moment, then sighed. "Do you intend to inform the father?" He asked.

"I... I don't know," I answered honestly, my voice shaky. It all seemed unbelievable, and even though I had a strong suspicion who it might be, I had trouble believing it.

"Very well," he said kindly. "Would you prefer to be somewhere else at this time, home perhaps?"

"No! I want this not to be real," I said, raising my voice once again, feeling panic and desperation. Professor Dumbledore nodded gently, but I hardly noticed.

"Deep breaths, Miss Granger," Madam Pomphrey said to me. "Breathe and calm yourself. I cannot give you another Calming Draught right now without risking damage to your baby."

"Will you stop saying that word!" I snapped at her rudely, and then my cheeks heated at my outburst. "Sorry," I said, and that is when I realised my hands were pushing down on my stomach, pressing down quite hard. I didn't understand what I was doing, so removed them as carefully as I could, as if I needed to move back from an explosive, and placed them down on the bed beside me.

"Quite understandable," Madam Pomphrey said with unconcern.

"I would really prefer to stay here," I told Professor Dumbledore as calmly as I could, looking back at his compassionate grandfatherly face.

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore assured me with another pat on the hand that was closest to him.

"Oh, um," Professor Slughorn started, drawing my attention to his concerned and apologetic light-green eyes. "I am afraid, my dear, that I can no longer permit you into my class." I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop me. "Please don't misunderstand. I assure you, I mean no offence by it, but the potions classroom is no place for..." he stopped and searched for the rest before settling on, weakly, "someone in your delicate condition."

"Oh," I said lamely.

"Well, I believe Horace and I should take our leave, affording you the opportunity to converse further with Madam Pomphrey," Professor Dumbledore said, getting to his feet gracefully.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" I asked desperately, looking between the two.

"Rest assured, I shall epitomise the very essence of discretion," Professor Dumbledore promised.

"Of course, my dear," Professor Slughorn agreed with a nod, a distressed look still on his face. I watched the two walk away and then turned to look at Madam Pomphrey in trepidation as she sat down in the now-vacated chair.

After dinner in the infirmary

I was staring out the window, only just able to see the top of the trees below the darkening sky. Not that it mattered; I wasn't really seeing anything. My head was too full of the information I had learnt this afternoon while trying to remain as calm as I could.

"Hermione?" Harry's hesitant voice came from the doorway, and I turned slowly to see him and Ron coming closer, being careful not to disturb the quiet of the room. "Are you alright?" he asked, taking the chair both Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomphrey had sat in while Ron settled on the edge of the end of the bed.

"Oh, oh, yeah," I said. I was still struggling with shock, and that was why Madam Pomphrey had insisted I stay for now.

"Why did you faint?" Ron asked. I looked down at the blanket and played with a small thread I had worked from the material.

"Would you understand what I meant if I said I have female troubles?" I asked. It was the first response to pop into my head. I didn't make it a habit of lying to my friends, even though I supposed I must have been keeping something very big from them this year, but still, it wasn't a comfortable notion for me.

"That has never made you faint before," Ron said, looking confused.

"I don't think she meant... that," Harry told Ron with meaning, and then looked to me as if to confirm it.

"No. Not that. I'll be fine," I said and dashed at a tear that spilled out of one of my eyes. "I will need to take some potions for a while, but I will be fine," I said, and tried to smile at the two. I didn't succeed, and they both frowned at me. "Really, I will. I just had a bit of a shock." And then thought for a moment on why exactly I had to take those potions. Apparently, I have a condition called placenta previa, and that was why I had still thought I was getting my monthlies. The potions were going to move the placenta to a safer position, which apparently would be safer for both me and the baby.

"Nobody likes to be sick," Ron agreed with a nod, accepting what I said.

"Do you need anything, Mi'? You're not in pain or anything, right?" Harry asked, looking less convinced.

"No, no pain," I said, and took his hand, squeezing his in comfort now.

"How long will you be here?" He asked.

"Madam Pomphrey said I can leave for breakfast in the morning," I told them.

"Great! Its pancake day!" Ron exclaimed joyfully, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips. The exaggeration made me laugh, as I knew it was supposed to, and he grinned at me. "I will make sure the girls don't eat all the strawberries. I know how much you like them with your pancakes," he told me.

"Very thoughtful," I said to him with a smile. "Now tell me everything I have missed while I have been lazing here," I said, sitting up higher in the bed and feeling more at ease than I had since I had woken in this room.

The boys regaled me on their final lesson of the day and finding Peeves harassing first years again. I laughed when they told me how they had ended up being covered in water by the cheeky spectre but how they were now the heroes of the first years who had been trapped. We spent an hour talking and laughing before they headed off reluctantly to do homework.