Third week in a row – look at that! Read, enjoy and review :)

"Voldemort's in the headmaster's office." Harry was studying the Marauder's Map. "The others seem to be patrolling the corridors."

"They are probably looking for us," replied Neville. "Or the missing students. Well, they are not going to find any Gryffindors."

Theo laughed. "One day I'll have to find out what's behind the whole ferret obsession."

"Alecto seems to be about to enter the Gryffindor common room," commented Harry, pointing to the map.

"Well, our lovely Muggle Studies professor is in for a surprise, then," replied Neville. "Courtesy of Fred and George."

Theo leaned over the map, spotting Alect Carrow's name by the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Serves her right!" he said, a rare flicker of anger tightening his voice.

"How bad was it?" Hermione asked softly, the concern in her eyes betraying her fear of the answer.

Theo hesitated, glancing around as if deciding whether he should say the truth aloud. "Muggle Studies is now compulsory for everyone," he began, his voice low. "We've all got to sit there, day after day, listening to her spew filth. She tells us that Muggles are less than human, like animals—stupid, dirty, violent. She says wizards have been 'driven into hiding' by them, that the only way to survive is to crush them. And the worst part? There are so many who believe her. She acts like this is the truth. Like it's some 'natural order' being restored, and we're supposed to be grateful for it. And some dimwits buy it."

His hands tightened into fists as he spoke, his jaw clenched. "It's not just words, either. If anyone questions her—or even looks like they're not listening—she'll punish you in front of the whole class. And she enjoys it. She enjoys hurting people."

Hermione's face had paled, and Ron muttered a shaky, "Yikes."

Theo gave a short nod. "That's just Muggle Studies. Dark Arts has become... well, Dark Arts. We don't learn how to defend ourselves anymore. We're taught how to attack, how to hurt. How to make people bleed. They demonstrate the Cruciatus Curse on students—sometimes on first-years. Just to show us how it's done."

"And we have to practice the Unforgiveables, too," added Neville grimly, his eyes still on the map. "On students who broke the rules. And like Theo said – just looking the wrong way can count as breaking them. If you refuse to torture your classmates, you have to take their place. So, the class is mostly torture or be tortured."

"And after Christmas, they replaced everyone. There is no respite. No class where you are safe."

There was a heavy silence. Even Ron, who often made light of difficult situations, had nothing to say.

"Oh, there he is!" Neville's index finger was hovering over the name Severus Snape. "That's not too far from here. We can get there directly, and the only other teacher around right now is Trelawney."

Harry groaned, which made the others laugh, dispersing some of the earlier tension.

"Scared she'll predict anything?" asked Theo.

"Oh my god!" Hermione pointed at the map. "Look! Sybill Patricia Trelawney."

"S.P.T.," mumbled Harry, staring at the map. "Like on the prophecy... I've seen her making a real prediction before. Perhaps she is a real seer after all."

Hermione frowned at that. "We should warn her then, and make sure she stays away from Voldemort. The last thing we want is for him to learn of any new prophecies."

"Okay, so how are we going to do this?" asked Theo.

"I think Harry and I should go," answered Neville. "I can't believe I'm saying this… but out of all of us, I got the best relationship with Snape. And he knows that I know about the time travel."

"Are you sure we shouldn't come with you?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "I got the map and the cloak. We'll be safe and back in no time." He hesitated. "Merlin, I really do not want to hear any more prophecies."

"So… you two are back together?" Daphne asked, motioning her head towards Draco, who was sitting on the other side of the room, talking to the twins. Or rather, the twins seemed to be talking to him nonstop. She was sure that in a couple of minutes, Draco would be filled in on all the pranks he had forgotten.

"Yeah," Astoria replied, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Daphne's eyes narrowed slightly. "Now that all the cards are on the table… I have to ask. Why did you two break up last year? What did he do?"

Astoria froze. "Daphne-"

"No! I need to know." Daphne's voice was firm, her fingers gripping Astoria's wrists. "You are my little sister. I love you. I can't just let this go - I have to know."

Astoria let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening. She wanted to push this conversation away, but Daphne's fierce protectiveness pierced through her defences. "Isn't it obvious now? He lied to me… to all of us," Astoria muttered, her voice breaking. "I didn't know what he was hiding, or why. And when I found out that he knew… knew about the curse, I… He was trying to find a cure and I thought he saw a future with me that wasn't a possibility. That he loved an idea of me more than… more than the real me."

The pain resurfaced as she spoke. It wasn't just the lies and her broken heart. It was the sense of hopelessness, the crushing weight of her own mortality. How could she love or dream when the future always felt like it was slipping through her fingers? What was the point of anything - of school, of making plans, of dating - when she knew she would not live long enough to enjoy the results? And who would ever want to love someone they'd inevitably lose far too soon?

"Oh, Tori..." Daphne's expression melted into one of raw sympathy as she wrapped her arms around her. She pulled Astoria in close, holding her tightly. "But he knew exactly what your future looked like. He stayed with you until the end."

Astoria closed her eyes and sank into her sister's arms, letting herself feel the comfort of the embrace. "He did," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And the way Neville tells it, Draco only travelled back in time to see me one last time. Not to fix me or... or to change anything. He just wanted to see me… one last time. To say goodbye." She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. "But if his plan had been to come back and replace me with a younger, healthier version… I don't know how I could've lived with that."

Daphne held her for a while longer, then she let go of her and asked, "So, you have forgiven him?"

Astoria blinked and nodded, though the answer felt heavier than she wanted to admit. "I forgave him the moment he told me about the time travel," she said, her voice thick. "For the lying at least. I... I understand why now." She paused, guilt gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. "And I didn't tell you either. It's dangerous knowledge, Daphne. He was right about that."

But doubt lingered, and she could still feel the weight of her own secrets pressing down on her chest. "And how can I keep judging him if I did the same thing this year? I got back together with him, knowing everything, and I didn't tell him any of it. I kept the truth from him too."

Daphne frowned, her brow furrowed. "It's different, Tori."

"Is it?" Astoria's voice wavered, her uncertainty rising to the surface. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes I think it is. But other times..." She shook her head, biting her lip. "I didn't tell him the truth. I know more about him than he does about himself right now. Isn't that... isn't that taking advantage of him?"

Daphne frowned, her brows knitting together in concern. She reached for Astoria's hand, squeezing it gently. "Taking advantage of him? No, Tori, it's not like that. You didn't lie to him for your own gain. You were trying to protect him, just like he protected you."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing softly, "You're both trying to navigate something impossible—time travel, memory loss, a war, all of it. You made decisions based on what you thought was best at the time, and so did he. It doesn't mean you're taking advantage of him."

Daphne leaned in closer, her eyes searching Astoria's face. "Talk to Draco, now that he knows. For the first time you can talk about this on equal footing. Talk to him about your fears and doubts, I'm sure he'll tell you the same things I told you."

Astoria nodded, her thoughts swirling. She barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps behind her until a familiar voice broke through her haze of uncertainty.

"Astoria?"

Startled, she blinked and looked up. "Huh?"

Harry stood before them, hands in his pockets, offering a small, tentative smile. "I just wanted to talk to you for a sec, before I go looking for Trelawney and Snape."

"Oh," Astoria mumbled, still half-lost in thought. "Uh, sure." She glanced at Daphne, who gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as she stood beside her.

Harry briefly looked at Daphne, then back at Astoria, his face serious. "Valerian."

"What?"

"Valerian Greengrass. He's the origin of your blood curse."

"What?!" The words hit her like a physical blow. She had already been standing on shaky ground, but now she felt the ground ripped out from under her feet altogether.

"If anything happens to me, I want you to know all of this. Should I die, I want you to live." Harry's voice remained steady, calm, even as her world spiralled. "Draco and I found out where your blood curse comes from while we were looking into Voldemort's past. Valerian had an affair with a muggleborn named Estelle. They had twins. Alder and Calantha. Melinda, his wife, cursed Valerian, and his family disowned him. Alder and Calantha were taken in by Hawthorne and Rebecca. The curse starts with them. We never figured out the exact curse used, but Phineas Nigellus Black's mother was present when it happened. If you ever find a portrait of her, you might be able to figure out the full story. And then Bill, Ron's brother, can help you lift the curse. He's a Curse-Breaker."

Astoria could do nothing but stare at Harry. There were a million thoughts running through her mind, but she was unable to grasp anyone of them. She stood frozen, her thoughts a tangled mess struggling to grasp the enormity of what she had just learned. For so long, her future had been a narrowing tunnel – at its end an inevitable early death. And now, suddenly, there was a light at the end.

Her chest tightened painfully, and yet, she could not form a coherent response. The hope was overwhelming, but so was the fear of daring to believe it.

Before she could process anything further, Daphne let out a delighted squeal, throwing herself at Harry. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Between each "thank you" she kissed him on the cheek. Once she let go of him, she sprinted across the room, presumably to do the same to Draco.

Harry, now red-faced and awkward, turned back to Astoria.

She could barely find her voice. "I - I don't know what to say," she finally managed, her voice wavering under the weight of the realization. All the plans and dreams she had given up on—finding love, a career, a family—suddenly seemed possible. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I… I don't- I don't have the words to express how much this means to me."

Harry gave her a warm, reassuring smile. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I could help."

"Professor Trelawney," greeted Neville. They had decided that Harry would for now stay under the invisibility cloak. It was easier this way. It needed less explaining out in the open. And the chances of Trelawney not predicting Harry's death were a bit better.

"What are you doing here?" she asked shrilly. "You are not supposed to be out of your dormitory. They- they told me to look for anyone breaking any rules and send them to… send them to… But I… Oh my – what if any of the others had found you?"

"It's alright. I was looking for you. I know you are not one of them-"

"I'd never! Such horrid people."

"Exactly! That's why I thought I'd tell you where we're hiding, so you can join us. Perhaps your sight might help us prepare for what is to come." And keep others from overhearing any true prophecies, if she made any. But they'd have to get going soon, or others would find them.

She nodded, then bent down, scooped up her sherry bottles, and dumped them unceremoniously in a large blue-and-white vase standing in a nearby niche. "I've always liked you; you know? You are truly gifted. And you show the proper appreciation for the art-"

Neville could feel Harry elbow him. His predictions had often been incredibly detailed and accurate, which of course had less to do with him having any special talent in the subject, and more to do with knowing Draco.

"I do not understand why so many doubt me." Her voice rose rather hysterically, and Neville caught a powerful whiff of sherry even though the bottles had been left behind. "Why so many think I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother's gift. Those rumors have been bandied about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Neville? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?"

Neville did not reply. In any case, Trelawney did not wait for him to respond. "I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore," Professor Trelawney went on, in throaty tones. "He was deeply impressed, of course, deeply impressed… I was staying at the Hog's Head, which I do not advise, incidentally — bedbugs, dear boy — but funds were low. Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room. He questioned me… I must confess that, at first, I thought he seemed ill-disposed toward Divination… and I remember I was starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day... but then..."

And suddenly, Neville knew what had happened next: Professor Trelawney – indeed S.P.T. - had made the prophecy that had altered the course of the whole wizarding world while talking to A.P.W.B.D. It was the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort. The prophecy that could just as well have meant him.

"…but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!"

"What?"

"Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself rather thought he had been apprehended eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore — you see, he himself was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Neville, that it was because he appreciated the stark contrast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes — Neville, dear?"

She looked back over her shoulder, having only just realized that Neville was no longer with her; he had stopped walking, and they were now ten feet from each other. "Neville?" she repeated uncertainly.

Neville's head was spinning, and he could hear footsteps running away from him. Harry! He couldn't let Harry confront Snape on his own, not when he had just learned this.

"You go on without me," said Neville through numb lips. "You know how to get into the Room of Requirement?"

"I- ah- yes. But-"

"You go on without me!" he yelled over his shoulder, already in pursuit of Harry.

Astoria walked over to Draco, who the twins and Daphne had finally left alone.

"This has been a lot," Draco said, as she sank down on the couch next to him.

"Fred and George?" Astoria asked jokingly. "You'll get used to them."

Draco laughed. "No. Not them."

Astoria knew, of course. Time travel. Voldemort. A dead future wife. It was a lot. And Harry's message had added even more emotions to the mix. Draco and Harry had found the source. First Draco had helped heal Neville's parents, and now he was healing her. And he did not even remember, probably did not even know why Daphne had thrown herself at him earlier. He did not even know she was sick.

"I believe you. And Neville. Time travel – it sounds crazy. But it does explain a lot that has been confusing before. And… you have never lied to me. You and Neville. You talked to me, and listened to me… and even when I insulted you, and when I was very wrong about so many things… you never judged me for it…" He hesitated. Clearly, whatever he was going to say next, he was hoping that Astoria would not judge him for it, either. "I don't trust myself anymore. I guess I haven't for a while… Snape… You say he is one of you… of us. He made that potion for me, he must be one of us. I know it – rationally. But… Sometimes I know I can trust him, even though I don't have any reason to. Then I know he is the Dark Lord's most trusted follower and that logically, I should not trust him. I've seen him kill Dumbledore. But Dumbledore is alive. I hate Dumbledore one moment, and the next I don't. I know Black is alive – I have seen him, even, on Christmas. But I also know he should not be. I hate him, but I also don't…"

He looked at her, worry clear in his eyes. Perhaps he was scared she would judge him for admitting that he hated the people she liked. Or that he was emotionally not exactly stable. "I can't imagine what it is like… to have memories that contradict reality. To have emotions with no clear explanation. But you can always talk to me. To all of us."

Draco smiled at her. "I know. Thank you. Having an explanation for all of this already helps so much."

His expression sobered again, and Astoria knew that there was something else he had on his mind. "Whatever it is you are worrying about, you can tell me anything, ask me anything," she said.

He sighed. "I have a million questions. A million things I worry about. And one of them, well, a few of them, actually, but one of them is about us. Did I fall for you because I am in love with another version of you? And do you only like me because of this version of me that no longer exists? If I were a separate person in a different body, would you have fallen for me? Because I am not the person everyone here is talking about."

Astoria averted her eyes. Another reason why her heart and mind were in such disarray. "I've been wondering this all year, actually." She leaned against him, and he slung an arm around her. "Even when you were terrible to me, I still liked you. I can't tell you why. I guess only time will tell. If it is any consolation – the original Astoria was probably very different from who I am today. She wasn't friends with you at school. She wasn't friends with Neville, or Theo, or Harry. I don't even know which side of the war she was on. And you – the Death Eater you – fell in love with her. And she with you. And you became the man who would do anything for his friends. Who risked his life fighting Death Eaters. Who saved lives. And you fell in love with me again. And I with you. And then you lost all your memories of me and became a completely different person again – and you fell for me again. And I for you. Perhaps we are just meant to be."

He smiled at her and gave her a kiss. "I like the sound of that."

"You… you… murderer!"

When Neville reached Snape and Harry, it was already too late, and Harry was sending hex after hex towards Snape. Neville did not dare get between the two. Harry was unpredictable in his blind rage. And Snape… Snape had never been predictable.

"Traitor! Stupefy!"

"Potter," replied Snape evenly, effortlessly blocking each spell. "What has gotten into you?"

"Incendio!"

"I'm afraid that's not the response I was looking for. Five points from Gryffindor."

Neville cringed. That was not de-escalating the situation.

Harry's eyes were blazing with anger, and his voice was shaking as he sent a flurry of spells. "Cruci-" yelled Harry, but Snape blocked the spell again.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter! You haven't got the nerve or the ability-"

"Incarc-" Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

"Fight back!" Harry screamed at him. "Fight back, you cowardly-"

"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?"

"You murdered my father!"

"I don't know what you think you know," he retorted, his tone icy, "but you are out of line-"

"I know the truth!" Stupefy. The jet of red light was easily blocked by Snape. "I know who you are!" Petrificus Totalus. Bounced off Snape's shield. "It was you! It's always been you!" Impedimenta. Soared past Snape's head as he took a step to the side. "It was you who shared the prophecy with Voldemort."

The name echoed through the hall, and Snape took a step back, as if he had been physically hit. Neville had never seen so many emotions openly on the teacher's face. Before he could regain his composure, one of Harry's spells hit him in the chest, and he was thrown backwards into a wall.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Neville, catching Harry's wand as it flew towards him.

Harry spun around, his eyes smouldering with wrath. "What are you doing? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Calm down," whispered Neville.

"Don't you realize? It could have been you, too! It could have been your parents!"

His chest tightened at the mention of his parents. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to ease the pain. Behind Harry's rage was pain and confusion, and it hurt that Harry thought he did not feel the same way. But he forced himself to stay calm. He opened his eyes again. "Of course I know that. But you are yelling in the halls of a school that is filled with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself," he hissed. "You are not wearing your cloak, and you did not cast a privacy spell. You have got to control your emotions, or you are going to get us all killed!" It was true. It was true and it was important, Neville just had to keep reminding himself of that. He had to focus on the immediate situation and on keeping them alive. There would be time later to tease apart the myriads of emotions this newest revelation had caused.

Harry was breathing heavily, glaring at Neville, then at Snape. Eventually, however, his shoulders relaxed and the expression on his face softened. "You are right."

"I never claimed to be a good person," Snape mumbled from the ground, his tone emotionless, his eyes staring at nothing, and Neville turned from Harry towards him. He looked defeated, in more ways than one.

Harry huffed. "I can't say that you did." His tone was more controlled now, but his hands still trembled, and his breathing remained ragged. "No one else I know screams Death Eater like you do. But you saved me. Us." Harry motioned his head towards Neville. "Draco, too. Multiple times. And just when I start to believe that I can trust you… How could you do this to my mum?" There was no more anger or hatred in his words. Instead, his voice sounded to Neville's ears like they were failing to hide a deep sense of betrayal.

"No- I- No…" Snape seemed to be caught in misery and panic, unable to form a proper reply. His eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet Harry's gaze.

"You rant on and on about what a terrible person my father was," continued Harry, "when it was you who killed him?"

Snape's face drained of the little color it had as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes dark with a storm of conflicting emotions. "I did not kill your father, Potter," he said, his voice low and shaking in a way neither Harry nor Neville had ever heard before. "It was never my intention-"

"You led Voldemort to them!" Harry interrupted. "You told him about the prophecy! You chose to serve him. Don't you dare act like you didn't know what would happen!"

Snape's black eyes flickered, his lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced away, as if the weight of Harry's accusation was too much to meet head-on. His hands were shaking as he raised them, trying to ward off the accusation, trying to hide behind them, hide his shame. "I... I made a terrible mistake," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I—yes, I delivered the prophecy to the Dark Lord, but I never imagined he would take it seriously-"

"And you did not care, did you?" Harry's voice was full of anguish. "If he targeted me or Neville or any other innocent baby?"

"Yes!" roared Snape. "I did not care about anyone but myself! I wanted to see the world burn. But not your mother. Never Lily." He had grown quiet again by the end.

Harry recoiled at Snape's words, hurt flashing across his face. Harry had, Neville assumed, expected coldness from Snape, cruelty even, but to hear it so bluntly - that his and Neville's lives, their very existence, had meant nothing to the man before them - felt like a new wound.

"When you found out He wanted to kill her, you switched sides," Neville finished the tale, his voice trembling. The implication of course being that had Voldemort chosen Neville, Snape would have done nothing to save him and his parents. It stung.

"I... I tried." His voice broke, quiet and hoarse. "I tried to save her. I went to Dumbledore. I begged for her life. I-"

"And what about my father?" Harry asked. "What about me?"

Snape's silence spoke volumes. His face a mask of barely concealed anguish. He stared at Harry, his lips twitching as if he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.

Harry did not say anything. Neither did Neville. Not knowing what else to do or say, Neville placed a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder, showing him that he wasn't alone. Harry turned towards Neville, his eyes no longer filled with hatred, but with something far more complicated. They both didn't understand Snape, not really, but for perhaps the first time, they saw the man for what he truly was: broken.

Neville knew that Harry felt no pleasure in seeing others suffer. Harry was not naturally vindictive or cruel, just sometimes impulsive and short-tempered. He did not enjoy seeing an opponent down. If anything, he wanted to see good in others. He wanted Snape to explain, wanted to believe he was a good person, that everything was just a big misunderstanding. But it was not.

Snape was part of the reason why Harry and Neville had grown up without parents. And he had done so both knowingly and willingly.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything unspoken.

Then, without warning, a sharp, familiar "Hem, hem" cut through the air. At the same moment, Neville felt something press against his throat.

He froze.

Shit.

TBC

Y'all this chapter. Seriously. A nightmare to write. Endless revisions. But in my humble opinion, it's a masterpiece now. My Mona Lisa.

Seriously, though, I struggled writing many of the things in this chapter. Especially the scene with Harry confronting Snape. I've wanted to write this conversation ages ago already. Literally ages – the chapter in which Snape and Sirius talk about Regulus? And Sirius talks about what a terrible person he is and how he is responsible for his brother's death?

""You trusted a friend. You can't blame yourself for that," Snape said. […] "It wasn't you who betrayed them. It wasn't you who spoke the Killing Curse. And it wasn't you who relayed the Prophecy to the Dark Lord…" he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought." (chapter 83)

Like I know I had a version where Snape actually comes clean here. Snape's role in Lily's death is something we don't often see in fanfiction – or at least I haven't. And it's such a good concept – in theory. The potential drama – amazing. But boy is it a pain to write. The implications, the emotions,… keeping Snape, who is so uptight, so secretive, so in control, in character… Like what would an in character reaction even look like?

I obviously decided against writing it back then. I did not think I could do it justice. And it was Snape's biggest secret. His biggest shame. Ultimately, it did not make sense for him to just share it like that.

I had similar concerns about not doing the scene justice and getting Snape in this chapter. Many times I thought about just deleting what I had already written for it and skipping this arch entirely. But then I just wrote down what they might say rationally (like, them being totally rational and reflected). Then I went over this with one of the three characters in mind, looking at it from their view and changing parts accordingly. The same for the others. And that multiple times until I felt like if I was solely in the head of either one of them, the reactions and what was said would make sense.

Harry's most defining character traits are his kindness and ability to forgive. I mean, if Harry had another son in the books, he would probably name him after Voldemort and Draco. He has got that in common with Neville. But Harry's also got a temper. He is impulsive. So I thought that attacking Snape like he did in HBP was not unreasonable. But neither was kind of hoping and looking for an alternative explanation. Harry's anger feels justifiable given the enormity of Snape's betrayal, but his reactions additionally reflect not only rage but also deep-seated pain and the shattering of a fragile trust. Harry tends to struggle with the desire for vengeance and compassion.

Neville, who shares his kindness and compassion with Harry, is more pragmatic and less impulsive. He has also become more of a natural leader over the course of the story (as he did in the books). Neville's connection to the prophecy and his parents' suffering makes this situation deeply personal for him.

Snape does definitely not share the compassion and kindness with the two. But he is very emotional and while he is guarded and in control, he is also impulsive like Harry. He often hides his vulnerability behind sarcasm, coldness, or indifference, but in moments of extreme emotional pressure, like in this scene, the façade shatters. There is so much self-loathing there, shame and guilt.

The scene between Daphne and Astoria also underwent many revisions. I always worry that she comes across as just Draco's love interest. Hopefully, this scene, while still focused on Draco, showed that her struggle is about so much more than just her complicated relationship with Draco.

Anyway, I hope I did not promise too much when I said there would be action and drama in this scene. Next one will also be eventful, but less emotional and there'll be less talking.