There was an excited thrill in the third years as they left the dark arts tower, they talked among themselves about their new teacher and the boggart they'd each had. Professor Lupin stood at his desk organizing his things with an amused smile. Though it faltered when he turned to find Clione was the one who'd come up beside him.

"We've just learned about boggarts," he told her as he turned back to the already cluttered desk. "May I ask what yours was?"

She was quiet a moment before answering with a soft, "me."

His hands paused a good second before he turned to her. She had sharp elegant features the color of the desert she'd been raised in. "Your mother's was the same," he admitted. He wondered about her grandparents, who raised two girls whose greatest fears were themselves.

"My grandparents did their best to erase the stain of my mother," Clione told him, it looked like it upset her to do so. "It took them over a year to find me after she was killed. I'd been left in the care of my godfather, who fought five years more trying to get me back." Her voice had thinned like a rubber band pulled too far, ready to break. His eyes were back on the papers he was shuffling out of order to give his hands something to do. "His name had been redacted from every legal document, maybe to keep him from ever being able to claim me. But there was one place they'd missed his initials."

"R.L," he finished for her. He looked at her wide shining eyes and shook his head. "How did you find that?" It shouldn't have been possible, the same way it shouldn't have been possible for the people who'd disowned their daughter to be able to claim their granddaughter. Who they would also disown.

"I'm Arthur Weasley's ward. I asked him to look into it."

With a breath of a laugh he set down the papers and turned sitting on the edge of the desk. "Resourceful," he commented gently. Here he was back in this school with two of his oldest, and once closest, friend's children to look after. "Your mother was the hardest person I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Given your high marks," he glanced at her seeing a familiar swell of pride, "it's safe to say you inherited her brilliance. Though I must admit, you strongly favor your father."

"You know who my father was?"

Her mother had been the first in her family to be placed at Hogwarts, no one here really knew Talibah or her family. Fewer still were the people who'd known who she was engaged to marry, and almost none had known of Clione's existence. Not until Talibah had been murdered. It just about broke his heart to think Clione didn't know what they'd done to keep her safe, of the life that'd been given.

He reached for her hand remembering a time when it'd been big enough to only fit around his little finger. There'd been a time she followed him everywhere. "I don't know I'm the right person to tell you." He held her hand a moment longer before standing and grabbing his trunk, searching its contents for a very old weathered book held together now by only a string wrapped around it.

Her brows drew together as she peeked at the pages, faded and timeworn. And blank to his eyes. But Clione glimpsed what looked to be Ancient Egyptian in the beginning that gradually turned into Arabic the further she flipped through. "What do you call this in English?"

"A grimoire."

Jarimuiri. She held it delicately in fear it would fall to shreds if she wasn't careful enough. As she traced her family's sigil a leatherbound journal was gently placed on top. She looked at Lupin with quiet desperation.

"It was your mother's."

Clione set down the grimoire and opened the journal to see her mother's neat cursive scrawl. "We cross our T's the same." A little too close to the top so that they always looked capitalized. It made her smile.

Clione, my dearest love

If you're reading this it means I'm gone, and I will never know a greater regret than that. I wanted only to keep you from this life, hoping maybe it would spare you. But you're more myself than I. I hope you never learn what we are.

Her eyes spilled over and her chin quivered as she looked up at him. "She knew she was going to die," she told him, and though it looked like it hurt him he nodded. "She was killed because of who she was, who I am." He set a hand on her shoulder as a means of comfort but she waved it away. There was a small sound in the back of her throat, a cry she wouldn't let out. She sniffed loudly swiping a hand under her running nose as she pulled herself back together.

She even refused to cry like her mother. "I'll make you some tea," he told her kindly. His knuckles grazed her cheek drying the last of her tears before he went to grab his kettle.

Any upset big or small, Mrs. Weasley always made tea. It surprised Clione to realize suddenly that when she thought of home she was thinking of the Burrow. And in that moment, she really wanted to go home.

..

There was a flutter of excitement about the castle on Halloween morning. Pumpkins and bats lined the halls that crisp morning, the sun was finally shining again though heavy clouds were on the horizon, and it was the first weekend trip to Hogsmeade. So with a warm mug of butterbeer and a box of cauldron cakes, Clione sat at a table at the very edge of Hogsmeade flipping through her family's grimoire. She'd just gotten to how one of her ancestors had mastered what would become known as alchemy, when a whine sounded from the side of the building to her left. She turned finding the largest black dog she'd ever seen. Its fur was matted and mangy and its skin clung to its skeleton.

She looked at the half eaten cake in her hand and looked back at the dog trying its hardest to look pitiful. "I don't think you can have this," she told it. The poor thing whined again and slowly crept closer giving her the biggest and saddest puppy eyes. It had her sighing. "If you get sick I don't wanna hear it." Holding the cake out it gently took it from her hand with care, as though it was trying not to hurt her.

That was how Fred found her several minutes later, having left George with Lee at Zonko's to go after her. "You smell really bad, but you're very sweet," he heard her say as she sat facing the stone wall of the building

He'd considered scaring her since her back was turned to him, but hearing her talking to someone he leaned around her and his eyes bulged. "Blimey, he's big as a bear." The dog's eyes flicked to him with a sharp distrust that had Fred reaching for where his wand was tucked in his pocket.

"I know, right," Clione said without turning. She had one hand under its chin and the other on top of its head rubbing its brow. "He's starving too."

"That why you gave him your butterbeer?"

She shot a look at Fred over her shoulder that had him grinning. The dog had taken her lack of alarm to mean this was a good boy and laid its head on her lap, which had Fred letting go of a breath and relaxing. He sat in the chair next to her looking over what she'd been reading, which never seemed to be in English those days but he could usually gather the subject from the pictures. "Is this for your alchemy class?" This time the picture was of a raincloud over a field of flowers.

"Sort of," Clione answered as she sat up and turned to him. She went back a page to show him the bright sun. "It's how my ancestors used to harness the weather for their crops. It made me think of your weather in a bottle idea."

Her hand returned to the top of the dog's head as she looked at the writing, but Fred just looked at her. So many of his and George's ideas became real because she often found how to do it, ideas that weren't important to her except for the boys who dreamed them. And she looked so nice today wearing the old blue sweater his mother had knitted for him two Christmas' ago. He almost told her so but she turned to him sharply as her mind caught up.

"You can see this?"

His brows furrowed as she pointed to the page of the book she was on. "Yeah," was his slow answer. She somehow looked even more confused than he did as she set a protective hand over the book. He reached a hand to the top of her head giving it a little shake. "What's going on in that pretty head?" he asked her only partly joking.

She was quiet a moment before answering: "I don't know yet."

It was his turn to be quiet a moment as he thought, as he considered whether he was ready for what he was about to say. "Well, we've still got time before we go back. Care to think about it over a cup of tea?"

Clione nodded and closed her family's book. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop was always fun during the holidays, any holiday. The normal pink frill would have hints of Halloween thrown in the mix, the cakes would be decorated with cute spiders and black roses. It's where Gail and Noemi currently were, and all the other boys who'd been dragged there by their girlfriends. A smile carved on her face. "Fredrick Weasley, are you asking me on a date?" His mouth opened but nothing intelligible came out as he tried to come up with a way to laugh it off, to take it back. "I'd say yes if you were," she told him brightly, confident and unashamed.

Her eyes were alight and dancing when he looked back at her, and it swelled in his chest. "Then yeah, I'm asking you on a date." He waited as she shoved the large book back in her small purse and gave her last cauldron cake to the dog, catching the way she grinned as they stepped onto the cobblestone. "You know, I don't really like when you call me Fredrick."

"Oh," she said having thought he found it as amusing as she did. "Anything in particular you want me to call you?"

"You can call me yours."

Bright laughter bubbled out of her as she understood what he'd done, and he walked beside her grinning proudly as she tried to stop. "That was good," she told him still chuckling.

"Smooth, right," he agreed slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Although, to be clear, I do like when you call me Fredrick."

She pressed her lips around a smile as he grabbed the door for her to step inside first. He grabbed them a seat while she went to wash her hands, and as she walked back to the table he nudged the chair out for her. They spent the rest of their time in the tea shop. The porcelain tea cups clinked delicately, a harp was playing itself in the corner, a couple was snogging in the back, and the romantic frilly atmosphere was shattered as Fred kept making Clione laugh.

At the table next to them a Gryffindor boy a year older than Clione leaned across the person-sized gap and asked about the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. His girlfriend rolled her eyes at how he never sounded that excited when they talked about things she liked, but Clione sat with an elbow on the table and her chin in hand watching the two boys discuss tactics that went over her head.

"Figures Slytherin would tuck their tails like cowards when they heard the weather's gonna get bad again. No offence, Clione," the older boy was quick to tell her.

She waved his apology away as she sipped her tea. "No, you're right. I am the one who made it happen."

"Traitor," Fred said seeing the laugh she hid behind her cup. Without turning he raised a finger at the boy beside them, "you don't get to call her that."

The little teacup wasn't enough to hide her giggling. "Draco's injured," she tried to say with a straight face.

Fred scoffed knowing the way everyone did that Malfoy was hamming it up for sympathy and to get Hagrid sacked. "I'll give him something to cry about," he muttered darkly. His brown eyes flashed wickedly in a similar way to how she looked when she was angry. Though his anger was stolen when he made the mistake of glancing at her, the way she sat with her chin in hand with a warm grin had him sighing as the corners of his mouth curled.

"I heard about that," she told him watching his smirk grow. "You sent George to convince me it was only to pay Draco back for how mean he's been to Harry."

"Did it work?"

She was the one smirking as she folded her arms over the table and leaned across the distance between them. "I would be willing to help."

"But?" He knew her better than to think she'd be that easy. He followed suit and they sat with mere inches between their faces as their eyes shone.

"Change the color."

"Clio," he said sounding disappointed. "There's nothing more embarrassing for a guy than bright pink hair."

But she hummed a laugh looking downright diabolical as she smiled. "Your house colors."

The boy next to them spit his drink out to keep it from going up his nose and his girlfriend smacked his arm before cleaning the splatter off her arm. But Fred only had eyes for Clione.

"You're evil," he told her as he smiled. "I like you so much."

A pair of boots clopped loudly on the hardwood floor as they stopped in front of their table, and both Clione and Fred looked up to find Noemi staring down her nose at them with her arms crossed. "You guys are obnoxious, and it's time to go." She marched between the tables after Gail, leaving them to pick their things up to follow.

As Clione slung her purse across her shoulders Fred looked down at the bite-sized pumpkin cakes they hadn't finished. "Think I can fit four in my mouth?"

"Coward," she shot up at Fred as she stood next to him. "Fit five."

A smile split wide on his face before he started shoveling the little tea cakes into his mouth hearing her bright laughter beside him. The cakes ended up in the closest bin but he was grinning victoriously with her hand in his as they caught up to George, Lee, Gail, and Noemi. The girls walked on the left side chatting away while the boys showed Fred what all they'd gotten from Zonko's. Then as Fred told them the brilliant addition Clione had added to their plan to get back at Malfoy.

"Seriously wicked," Lee told her beaming.

George was too busy looking at the way she and Fred were holding hands, having been found at the tea shop, and her wearing Fred's old sweater with a big gold F stitched on the middle. He elbowed his brother who read his question and grinned an answer.

It was dusk by the time they all got back to the castle, their cheeks reddened by the wind that'd been made colder as clouds filled the sky hiding the setting sun. Holiday dinners were one of the few not restricted to their house tables. Noemi sat at the Hufflepuff table by a few other Slytherins Clione had coaxed into being nice last year, but the seat next to Gail remained empty and she turned finding Clione sitting beside Fred with Harry a little bit further to her right.

Fred and George were tossing a sparkler back and forth across the table, on the other side of them Lee was doing his very best to convince a terribly uninterested Angelina to give him a chance, while Clione sat eavesdropping on the three to her left. Ron had managed to scrounge up a few sickles over the summer doing chores in anticipation for the Hogsmeade trip, and he'd spent nearly all of it on a sneakoscope for Harry. Fred caught her head cocked to listen and he elbowed her lightly, catching her sweet grin.

They parted ways at the end of the feast when everyone returned to their dormitories with full bellies. Their good day darkened as Snape ushered the Slytherins back to the Great Hall where they found the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looking just as confused as they were. The Gryffindors however looked spooked and they quickly started whispering amongst the other houses; Sirius Black had gotten into the castle and tore up the Fat Lady's painting trying to get into their common room.

Clione stood with Draco at her side and Pansy close behind her, they were joined shortly after by Theodore Nott and Blaise Zambini. She had Cassius at her elbow and Marcus a step in front of her. She looked a worried hen keeping watch over all her chicks until she was told what was happening.

"I'm afraid for your own safety you will have to spend the night here, while the teachers and I conduct a thorough search of the castle," Dumbledore told them, his weathered voice loud and sure. With a casual wave of his wand the four long tables flew to either side of the hall stacked atop each other; another wave and a sleeping bag for each of them appeared. "I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall, and I'm leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Sleep well."

The teachers followed Dumbledore out of the Hall and the doors closed behind them sealing the excitedly anxious students inside. They talked among themselves about Sirius Black being in the castle, having already committed one attack and likely would try another.

"I say we give him Potter, leave the rest of us alone," Draco muttered coldly. A gentle hand on his back had him turning to Clione, who he'd grown taller than over the summer. There was a strange look in her eye that went beyond worry; it was understanding.

She patted Draco's back and shooed him and his friends towards the sleeping bags on the Slytherin side of the Hall. "Everyone into their sleeping bags," Percy shouted quieting their young worries as they drifted to the spaces they normally sat for dinner. "Lights out in ten minutes!"

Clione and Cassius made their way to where the other prefects had gathered awaiting their Head Boy and Girl's direction. Gail was quick to squeeze Clione's hand as Percy began to call their names and point to where he wanted them. He positioned six of them at the front, three on either side of the door, the rest he had pacing the aisles of sleeping bags to make sure everyone stayed accounted for.

"I want you up with the first years, they listen to you," Percy told Clion, his chest puffed out with importance.

She spent much of that first hour slowly drifting along the front of the hall seeing to each of the first years who lay snuggled in their sleeping bags fast asleep when she left them. Then she went through the second years coaxing them gently into sleep as well with a spell she'd learned in ancient magic, with an added kiss to Ginny's brow.

The end of the first hour Snape had come and gone directly to Percy for a report before leaving again, though he'd paused just long enough to find Clione. As the second hour drew to a close she moved to where Fred and George were sprawled out not yet asleep. "I need you to get Percy over here," she whispered between them before she wandered to the front.

A sudden bang startled all the prefects and everyone who hadn't already been asleep. Percy was red in the face as he marched to where his brothers lay, not buying for a second their innocently sleeping faces. The door to the Great Hall opened and Professor Flitwick came in making a beeline for Percy.

"Cover for me," she told Gail and slipped through the crack in the door and out into hall.

She hurried down the empty corridors with a very clear purpose in the way she went. Only once did she hide behind a knight as a teacher stalked past. She made it quickly to the third floor and stood in front of the one-eyed witch statue seeing the passage was closed. Lupin had fallen ill again, so close to another full moon. Yet still she stepped into his dark classroom where shadows hung thick in the places between the windows where moonlight streamed in.

Light reflected in a pair of eyes under the stairs to Lupin's office and Clione's breathing deepened as a ragged black dog the size of a bear stepped out of the shadow. They stood a quiet still moment staring from opposite sides of the classroom. Her hands were shaking as he watched her with wide desperate eyes, there was pain in them.

Without a word she turned and stepped back into the hall raising her wand to the witch's stone hump. "Dissendium," she breathed and a crack appeared in the stone as a door swung inward. "You can close it yourself when you're inside."

She didn't wait to make sure he left or that he wasn't following her, she turned on her heel now left with how she'd get back into the Great Hall. A hand reached out of the shadow and latched onto her arm. She pulled her arm trying to twist away but he gave a sharp tug and she stumbled into his chest so that she stood with her head tipped back looking up at him. His blue eyes looked dark from the way they sat sunken in his gaunt face, his black hair a tangled mess that hung around his face hiding his expression.

He raised a gentle hand to her face, running the pad of his thumb over her quivering chin and the deep crease in her brow so that her face was smooth when he pulled away. He wiped the tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye and just looked at her, at this beautiful face that lit even the darkest parts of his mind. He thought he'd dreamed her. Pressing a kiss to the sharp apple of her cheek he let her go and stepped back.

"Don't come after me again, darling," he told her softly and waited for her to nod. He reached a hand to her chin the way Mr. Weasley had at King's Crossing, a tender goodbye. The stone rumbled as it closed behind him leaving her in the dark hallway alone.

She hovered behind a stone lantern for about twenty minutes before another teacher returned to the Great Hall, this time it was McGonagall. Clione slipped inside and upon seeing her suddenly appear Cedric shoved her behind him as he stoically stood guarding the door as McGonagall left once more. His eyes were wide with worry and anger and a want to sit her down and drag every answer out of her, but he heard one of her fingers crack from how hard she was wringing her hands together. "You okay?" he whispered, feeling her forehead drop to his shoulder.

She stood a moment catching her breath before she stepped back and gave a quiet, "no." She squeezed his arm in thanks before making her way down the middle aisle framed by Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's.

When she reached the boy she'd come for she knelt at his head and ran kind fingers through his dark messy hair. Harry turned just enough to look up at her. Without his glasses her features were blurry and the dark scarf she wore looked like hair. But by then he'd learned what her hands felt like, there was a certain tenderness in her touch he so far had only felt with Mrs. Weasley. It felt like family.

..

The day of the first Quidditch match was met with howling winds and a river of rain. It was so dark inside the castle extra lanterns had to be lit. Clione had been sitting warm and dry tucked away in the library when Angelina found her. Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked from the mud the other girl had dragged in to her pinched expression. "You're dripping," Clione promptly informed her.

"Oliver needs you."

Clione shoved her mother's leatherbound journal into her bag before she charged down the halls in the direction of the quidditch pitch. The whole way Angelina kept pace telling her what to say to get Oliver out of the showers, of how many points Hufflepuff needed to lose by for Gryffindor to have a chance. Clione stepped outside and everything she'd just been told was blown out of her head by a strong gust of wind. She turned back to ask Angelina to say it one more time, but Angelina was hurrying to the hospital wing where the others were crowded around Harry's bed. The poor boy never seemed to escape a match without injury.

Casting an umbrella out of her wand, Clione walked carefully down to the field. The wind tore at her clothes and ripped the scarf off her head. A flash of lightening revealed a large soaked black dog trotting up to her from the direction of the whomping willow with her scarf in its mouth. She tucked it in her bag and they walked together toward the locker rooms that'd been built beneath one of the stands, specifically for the purpose of students not tracking mud in the way they currently were. With a timid pat on his wet head she stepped inside the steamy locker room letting the door close behind her.

Oliver sat on a bench with his head in his hands feeling water drip from the tip of his nose as he resigned himself to failure. It had to be today, they had to be playing Hufflepuff, there had to be dementors. Everything had worked against him. A hand on his shoulder had him turning expecting to see Fred again but he visibly paused at the sight of Clione. She was rain spattered and only wearing an under scarf but she looked as pretty as she always did, and even that was against him.

She thought Angelina had been exaggerating but his normally sweet brown eyes were shattered. He was quick to turn away from her, as if merely looking at her was too much. Too unfair. "Angelina was telling me there's still hope you can win," was her sad attempt at cheering him up.

"Please don't pretend you care about quidditch," he said climbing to his feet and throwing the towel into his cubby. "You're not any good at it."

She blinked stung by his bitter tone. "Rude," she told him crossing her arms, "but true."

"Sorry," he admitted quietly. He hadn't meant to say it like that, he didn't mean to ignore her, he didn't want for this to hurt as much as it did. "I'll talk to Harry and tell him it's fine. You can," a breath left him and he mumbled, "go back to Fred."

She stared at the side of his sad face and sighed letting her arms drop back to her sides. "What do you need?" she asked him with such conviction he turned to her. "You need a shoulder to cry on, I have two. You need to be angry, I've got enough to help you trash the place. You need a kick in the ass, turn around I'll kick you all the way to the hospital wing," she said both firm and kind, meaning every word. And his face was falling apart. "Whatever you need, I'm still your girl."

He stood a quiet moment before rushing her, throwing his arms around her shoulders and crushing her against him. Catching the breath he'd squeezed out of her, she rubbed his back holding him up. Letting him bury all his disappointment in her. In another life she thought she could've loved him.

When he was ready they made their way back to the castle, him holding an umbrella cast above them. He held it more over her so that his shoulder got drenched. At another flash of lightening Clione squinted in the direction of the whomping willow catching a far off black smudge in the grass.

She stood back as Oliver stepped to the side of Harry's bed, telling him in a hollow voice that it wasn't Harry's fault. Angelina crept closer to where Clione hovered near the back. "Did you tell him what I said?" The way Clione didn't look at her she huffed irritably. "Honestly, Clione, two boyfriends, Cedric, Flint, Cassius, and you still don't know anything about quidditch."

"Nope."
Another huff as Angelina rolled her eyes. "You're useless," she said in a rush.

"Yup."

This time Angelina's huff was more out of acceptance. She reached a hand to Clione's rain-dampened arm "Thanks for getting him here." She stepped around the other side of the bed and told both a miserable Harry and Oliver how they could still end up winning the Quidditch Cup. Neither one looked like they believed her but they both nodded.

Madame Pomfrey came and shooed the team out of the hospital wing, shaking her head at the floor they'd muddied. "Why does she get to stay again?" Fred asked pointing at where Clione stood off to the side as they made their way out. Madame Pomfrey's sharp stare had him adding a chastised, "Clio?"
"Don't drag me into this," she told him looking cross. He got her to break with a quick peck to her cheek, and he left the hospital wing laughing at how hard she'd had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. "Shut up," she told Angelina before she could say anything.

She could hear Angelina laughing as she chased Fred down the hall demanding to know what was going on with them. As George passed by he too left her with a kiss, only his had her rolling her eyes. Then Ron did the same and it had her sighing as she gave in and laughed.

Harry laid in the bed with his broken Nimbus 2000 beside him, unable to find it funny. There was another murderer after him, the dementors were still here and Malfoy was going to make his life even more miserable, only now he didn't have quidditch to distract him. "I don't think there's anything you can say that'll make me feel better," he told Clione when it was just the two of them.

"Probably not," she agreed sitting on the edge of the bed facing him. "I was gonna show you this later." She dug into her purse, sticking her arm farther than he thought possible, and pulled out a notebook. "Professor Lupin knew my parents too." She flipped through the scribbled pages until she found the photo she'd been after.

"Those are my parents," Harry said recognizing them immediately. "I have a picture of their wedding day too." His smile wilted at the handsome black haired man standing by his dad. He had sharp elegant features that would come to stretch over his skull from the years in Azkaban.

Clione pointed to the woman next to him, her hands held lovingly over her very round stomach. "That's my mom," she told him in a small voice that trembled.

"Our parents were friends," he said catching the look their mother's shared around the two men standing between them. "She's pregnant with you." Clione nodded and turned a couple more pages before she found another photo though this one didn't move. Harry looked at the little black haired girl wearing the biggest smile as her mom helped her hold a swaddled baby in her lap.

Clione's smile shivered on her face and she sat back with her head tilted to the ceiling as a sob rattled through her. She took a stuttering breath and wiped at the corners of her eyes, sniffing loudly as it left her.

She sniffed again and turned back to the picture of her holding Harry, the last thing in the journal because her mother had died shortly after. Almost a year before Harry was orphaned. "I feel like that too sometimes," Harry told her. She was always so put together, so controlled and unaffected. He hadn't known it hurt her too.

Swiping a hand under her nose she tucked the journal back in her bag and sat with her hands folded over her lap. "Lupin said if things had been different," she paused a moment to swallow the knot in her throat, "we'd have been raised as cousins."

He blinked a moment before a smile took over his face. "Yeah I," he broke off as he thought of what he wanted to say, or how. He'd been feeling very alone this year, with Black after him and everyone going to Hogsmeade while he was stuck here. Like he'd been left behind, again. "You always felt like family." He hadn't told her everything that happened the last two years or what he'd learned about his own parents, some days it almost burst out of him. But most days it was enough to have her near, someone to have his back no matter what, someone okay with waiting for when he was ready to talk.

A smile twitched over her mouth as she looked at his sweet face. She wanted to tuck him inside her chest where the world couldn't hurt him anymore. "Yeah," she agreed on a soft breath. It struck her then that this change in her, the way she softened and opened herself up to dream of new things – this maternal longing – if it had all started that day she met him at Hogsmeade.