Aftermaths, Part 67

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: Mostly PG-13, but NC-17 for overall story

Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, and Phoenix Rising.

Summary: The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war, and Snape and Lupin try to build a family together with Theodore and Dylan. However, some people are unable to let go of the past...

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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The events of the Quidditch match--the hex, the controversial win by Gryffindor, and most of all, the revelation of Master Bleddri's true identity--were the talk of the school. Lukas was grumpy and out-of-sorts for the rest of the weekend; all of the students, and even most of the teachers, were afraid to approach him. Lupin did make the attempt, but Lukas curtly told him that he needed some time to think things over alone.

"I understand," Lupin said quietly. "But if you ever need anyone to talk to--"

"This mess is all your and Snape's fault," Lukas snapped and slammed the door to his quarters in Lupin's face, ignoring the hurt and guilty look in his friend's eyes. Lukas sighed and flopped down on his bed, knowing that he wasn't being entirely fair; both Snape and Selima were right when they said that someone would have recognized him eventually. However, he wasn't in the mood to be fair right now, although he knew that he would have to apologize to Lupin later. It was just as well that the other werewolf had a forgiving nature and was used to putting up with his ill-tempered mate.

The wolf in him wanted to go to his pack for comfort, but the man was afraid to face them. They had been proud of him when he had been offered the position at Hogwarts, and would probably be even more excited about learning that he was the heir to an estate. His normally cynical wolves were filled with newfound hope thanks to the equal rights bill and the changed public perception of werewolves, and they would see this as a fairy tale ending: the exiled prince-in-disguise restored to his rightful inheritance. Intellectually, they knew how slim the chances were of a werewolf being appointed head of a pureblood family, but ever since their victory over the Death Eaters, his pack had come to believe that he could do almost anything, and regarded him with a hero worship that he wasn't sure was entirely healthy. They would want him to fight for the title, and prove that a werewolf really was equal to a human. And Selima, damn the meddling woman, was right: he could--and should--use the wealth and resources of the family estate to help his wolves.

But to fight for the title would mean opening up old wounds. A wolf lived in the here and now; Lukas and his pack were men and women as well as wolves, of course, and could not entirely escape the painful memories of their former lives, but they had done their best to leave the past behind them and live in the present, not looking backwards--or too far forwards. They lived in the moment, living hand-to-mouth, not always knowing where their next meal would come from. They had never looked too far into the future, which had held only more bleak misery and poverty. It had been Lukas's job as pack leader to look ahead to a certain extent, though, to see that the rent was paid and the pack fed, to obtain Wolfsbane Potion or make sure that the pack was locked up during the full moon. And then Remus, curse him, had forced him to look even farther ahead, to weigh the pack's temporary safety against a future in which the Death Eaters ran the world. The wolf would have run, but the man made the decision to stand and fight--not solely to avenge his slain pack member, as he had told Lupin, but also because he knew that the Death Eaters would eventually kill them all if they won the war.

Against all odds, the Order and their allies had won, and the werewolves had become heroes, putting Lukas in his present predicament. Cyril had died and been reborn as Lukas the night his mother had died, when he had fled the Gravenor estate. He had left behind his name, his inheritance, his life. He had fought to survive even though he wasn't always sure why, because there were times when death had almost seemed like it would be a blessed relief, as it had been for his mother. Almost. But something in him refused to lay down and die--the wolf's survival instinct, or perhaps just the knowledge that his parents would have wanted him to live. Cynric had fought so hard to protect his son; it seemed a waste to make his sacrifice mean nothing, and even Anya, though she had given in to despair, had wanted him to be strong. So Lukas lived, and though he treasured the memories of his parents, tucked them away in a distant corner of his mind and did not dwell on them too much, because the grief would overwhelm him if he did. It helped when he formed his pack, because then he had a family that he needed to protect, and it gave him a purpose for living.

But now, those old half-healed wounds had been torn open and bled anew. Gwen didn't understand how much it hurt just to look at her, to be reminded of his old life where, even though he had been a werewolf, he had been happy because his parents had loved him. Bittersweet memories of his parents flashed through his mind: Cynric, with his reckless courage, cradling a werewolf cub in his arms, and Anya, singing lullabies during the full moon, her sweet voice comforting and loving. Back then, when Cynric had still been alive, Anya had been strong in her own way; she had never allowed a hint of fear to enter her voice when she sang or whispered soothing words to her son, not even when the wolf howled and snarled, and threw its full weight against the door she was sitting just outside of.

Lukas had just enough self-control left to cast a silence spell on his room before he threw back his head and howled with grief and loneliness, his voice echoing off the walls of his room.
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The students tiptoed nervously around Master Bleddri in class, even more so than they did around Snape. Their teacher no longer joked with them, or shouted out gruff encouragement, but was silent and moody, speaking only to give them curt instructions in Defense class. In Interspecies Relations, he assigned them a research project and sent them to the library, ending class early. Tristan had no idea what to say to his teacher-turned-cousin, and Bleddri, who would give him brooding, troubled glances, clearly didn't know what to say, either.

Tristan didn't know how he felt about all this. He liked Master Bleddri, but he had been proud to be named the Diggory heir, and he wasn't sure how he would feel if the title reverted to Bleddri. He would cede it in a heartbeat to Cedric, of course, but to a near stranger...? Tristan's mother was overjoyed to discover that her nephew was still alive, but Uncle Amos was furious, and Tristan was frightened and confused to have two of the people he loved at odds with each other. His mother sent him a long letter telling him stories about her childhood days with her beloved brother and nephew, and enclosed photographs of a handsome man who looked just like Bleddri, only better dressed and more well-groomed, a beautiful woman with dark hair and gentle eyes, and a small blond boy who must be Bleddri, except that the boy's eyes did not hold the bitterness that the elder Bleddri's did.

Uncle Amos, on the other hand, sent him a letter cautioning him to watch his step around Bleddri, saying that werewolves were dangerous monsters, Dark Creatures who may have been in league with the Death Eaters, no matter what the Daily Prophet said. He said it was true that the Diggorys and Gravenors had conspired to fake Cyril Diggory's death and keep him confined--but for his own good, to keep him from running loose and inflicting his curse on others. It might sound cruel, Uncle Amos said, but it had really been a compassionate decision--in the distant past, all werewolves had been slain as soon as their lycanthropy was discovered, even if they were children. Even these days, some families quietly did away with children who had the curse. But the Diggorys had not wanted to kill their grandson, only keep him safely confined. It had been a secret, of course, so as not to disgrace the family name. Ungrateful Cyril had not seen it that way, and had broken free and escaped, but Amos said that he supposed one could not expect a beast to know any better. Amos promised Tristan that he would protect their inheritance, and that he would never let "that beast" take it.

Tristan's mother said in her letter, gently but firmly, that they must do the right thing and return the title to its proper heir. She said not to think of it as losing an inheritance, but as gaining a new family member. She assured Tristan that he would love Cyril when he got to know him, and that Cyril, while understandably wary of resuming his family ties, would eventually come around if they were patient and loving. Robert Ames also sent a letter; it did not say much, but Tristan got the impression that his father was not so eager for Tristan to give up the title. He told Tristan to be polite but cautious around Master Bleddri, and that perhaps some sort of compromise or settlement could be reached between Bleddri and the Diggorys.

"You're not going to let that werewolf take your inheritance, are you?" Stewart demanded during an R.A. meeting.

"Oh, shut up, Stewart!" Tristan snapped without thinking. "Don't call him a werewolf!"

"Well, he is one, isn't he?"

"He is, but you don't have to call him 'that werewolf'. He has a name."

"It's unthinkable!" Corbin said. "To let a non-human become head of a pureblood family--"

Dean frowned. "I thought it was the Death Eaters who were concerned about blood purity," the Muggle-born boy said in a sharp voice.

"This is a private matter," Isabelle said, interrupting to stop things before they got out of hand, "between the Diggory family. It is not something for the R.A. to interfere in." The boys reluctantly subsided, and Tristan gave Isabelle a grateful smile. "To get on with business...I believe that we must keep a close eye on the Slytherins from now on."

Dean nodded, looking angry. "Yes, they're blaming Gryffindor for the hex cast on Rosier--but of course we'd never do something like that!"

"I wonder who did?" Susan mused, frowning thoughtfully.

Stewart grinned, and Isabelle kicked him under the table, and Stewart hastily schooled his features into a puzzled expression. "Yeah, I wonder who?"

"It was probably one of the Slytherins themselves," Isabelle said calmly. "Perhaps someone who is jealous of Dylan. There is a great deal of rivalry in that House, after all, and it would easy for them to shift the blame onto their old enemies in Gryffindor..."

"Those damn Slytherins!" Dean said. "Blaming us for something they did! I can't believe that Harry fell for it, and kicked me off the team!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Isabelle said soothingly. "But I think it is only a matter of time before the Slytherins show their true colors, and then everyone, including Harry, will see that we were right all along."

"You'll have to be very careful in Gryffindor," Stewart said gravely, "and watch for a retaliatory attack from Slytherin."

"I'll be on my guard," Dean said grimly. "I know Potter won't take my warning seriously, but there's a couple of guys in Gryffindor I can trust, who will watch out for attacks. I'd like to bring Jack and Andrew to our next meeting."

"They seem a bit hotheaded," Corbin said. "Are you sure they can be trusted to keep the R.A. a secret?"

"Yes," Dean said. "I'll make sure they understand how important it is." Corbin still looked skeptical, but went along with the others when they voted to admit Jack and Andrew into the R.A.
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As Dean returned to the Gryffindor dorm from his meeting, he heard someone call, "Hey, Dean! I've been looking all over for you."

"Harry?" Dean said in a cool voice.

"Look," Harry said, "maybe I was a bit hasty in kicking you off the team..."

Dean waited smugly, expecting Harry to apologize to him, but soon found that he was sorely mistaken.

"I still think you were wrong to score a goal when the Slytherin team was occupied with rescuing Dylan," Harry continued earnestly. "Can't you see that's it not right? That it's better to show that we can win even when Slytherin is playing their best?"

Dean scowled, feeling angry because deep down inside, a part of him agreed with Harry even though he didn't want to admit it. "Don't tell me that the Slytherins wouldn't have done the same thing if our positions were reversed," he said defensively. "Can you see Rosier or Malfoy flying to your rescue?"

"Actually, I can," Harry said, looking a little surprised by his own words. "But that's not the point. We're Gryffindors, and we have to uphold the House honor and play fairly even if the other team doesn't."

"So did you just come here to lecture me again?" Dean asked.

"No," Harry said, giving him an exasperated look. "I wanted to tell you that I'll put you back on the team if you'll accept a one-game suspension--"

Dean nodded reluctantly, but felt his spirits lift at the thought of being restored to the team.

"--and apologize to the Slytherin team," Harry finished.

"What?!" Dean cried. "No way! I'll never apologize to those slimy gits!"

"Then I won't put you back on the team," Harry said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine!" Dean snapped. "I'd rather stay off the team than apologize to those...those...snakes!"

Seamus came up and whispered in his ear, "Don't be an idiot, Dean. Is your pride really worth being kicked off the team? Just apologize, and we'll prove to them that we can beat them fair and square in the finals."

Dean hesitated; it was the first offer of friendship Seamus had extended since their big fight. But in the end, he said, "I won't kiss those Slytherins' arses! Nor yours, Potter!" And he turned and stalked off to his room.

Harry sighed unhappily, and Seamus muttered, "I can't believe he's being such a git!"
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Tristan nervously approached Lukas after class one day, saying in a timid voice, "Master Bleddri?"

"Yes, Mr. Ames-Diggory?" Lukas asked politely but wearily. It was less than a week till the full moon, and he was feeling more tired and sore than usual, despite the improved Wolfsbane Potion. He knew that it was probably due more to stress than any deficiency of the potion.

"M-my mother sent me some pictures of you and your family," Tristan said hesitantly. "I thought maybe you would like to see them." And he held out the snapshots of Cynric, Anya, and Cyril.

The old pain and grief shot through Lukas, as if someone had just stabbed him with a blade that had been heated till it was red-hot. Unthinkingly, he slapped the pictures out of Tristan's hands, and they fell to the floor as the boy jumped back, looking hurt and frightened. "I'm sorry, Tristan," he said in a low growl, feeling ashamed of himself. "You caught me off-guard and I'm always short-tempered near the full moon." He bent down and picked up the photos, and the boy cautiously moved a little closer. "It's just that these stir up painful memories."

"I'm sorry, Master Bleddri," Tristan said in a small voice.

Lukas gave him the photos back and patted him on the head. "I know you meant well, child," he said gruffly. "I'm sorry I startled you. It's just...difficult. I thought I had put my old life behind me. I never intended to go back to the pureblood world."

"Are you going to fight Uncle Amos for the title?" Tristan asked.

"I'm not sure," Lukas replied, staring at the boy intently. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," Tristan replied. "I'm kind of confused. I've gotten used to the idea of being the Diggory heir. I wanted to carry on in Cedric's place, since he can't be here, but I know it would make Mum happy if you came back."

Lukas smiled a little. "Well, at least you're honest, boy. I'll tell you what--I won't make any decision without discussing it with you and your parents first, all right?"

Tristan gave him a tentative smile. "Yes, Master Bleddri. Um...or should I call you 'Cousin Cyril'?"

Lukas winced. "No, I'm not used to being called by that name anymore. Let's stick to 'Master Bleddri'."

"Yes, sir." Tristan turned to leave.

"Wait!"

"Sir?"

Lukas had fled the shack on the Gravenor estate with little more than the clothes on his back; he had no pictures of his parents, only the memories in his head. "Maybe...maybe I would like to see those pictures, after all."

Tristan smiled and handed them to him. "Keep them, sir. I'm sure Mum would want you to have them."

Lukas shoved them into his pocket, and only when he was alone in his quarters with the door locked behind him, did he take them out and look at them. He just sat there staring at them, for over an hour, as if paralyzed, unable to even lift his hand to wipe away the tears that were sliding down his face.

When he didn't show up for his next class, Dumbledore and Lupin eventually came looking for him. There was a knock at the door, and Lupin's concerned voice called out, "Lukas? Are you in there? Are you all right?"

That startled Lukas out of his stupor. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and hid the photos beneath a book on the coffee table, then got up to answer the door. "Yes?"

"You missed your first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "The students were very worried about you."

Lukas glanced at the clock and suddenly realized how much time had passed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I lost track of time."

"You can't go on like this," Lupin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The students have all been tiptoeing around you in Physical Defense, and you haven't really been teaching your Interspecies Relations classes--"

"So fire me," Lukas said to Dumbledore brusquely, almost hoping that he would.

But Dumbledore shook his head, and Lukas felt strangely relieved. "We're just concerned about you, Lukas, and so are your students. Perhaps you need to take a little time off to sort things out."

"It's really hard to think this close to the full moon," Lukas admitted. "I keep wanting to snarl at everyone."

"Well, Severus is like that all the time," Lupin said lightly, "and he doesn't have the full moon as an excuse."

Lukas laughed a little, then sighed, "I don't really know what to do. I'm not sure I have the strength to fight for the title. I won't just be taking on Amos, but all of the pureblood elite."

"Not all of them," Lupin said. "The Snape family is on your side."

Lukas shook his head. "I still don't understand that. Lady Selima allowed her own son to be disowned for associating the Death Eaters. Did she really love my mother so much that she's willing to risk her social standing to help a werewolf?"

"The Snapes have a strong code of honor," Lupin said, "though I confess I don't understand exactly how it works. But Selima once told me that she had only a few true friends, and that all of them were dead. I suppose that kind of friendship would mean a lot to someone who had been raised among the Slytherin elite, who are always scheming for power at each other's expense." Lupin smiled. "Or perhaps she thinks that if you become head of the Diggory family, my relationship with Severus will seem slightly less scandalous in comparison."

"As a student, Selima was always a very guarded young woman," Dumbledore said. "She gave her loyalty to only a few people, but once given, it was always steadfast and unswerving. In that, she is like her son, although I doubt that either of them would admit it."

"By the way, Albus," Lupin said curiously, "who was Selima's old flame at Hogwarts?"

The old wizard's eyes twinkled merrily. "Selima was a very beautiful girl, Remus. At least half the boys in the school were infatuated with her."

"But there was one boy in particular, wasn't there?" Lupin persisted. "A suitor that her parents did not find suitable, at least in comparison to Severin Snape?"

"Oh, Selima was very discreet," Dumbledore said, his eyes still twinkling. "She never openly favored one suitor over another, or did anything else that might bring embarrassment or disgrace upon her family. No, I'm afraid you'll have to ask Lady Selima herself if you want to know the answer to that question."

"She won't tell me," Lupin sighed.

"Lady Selima doesn't wish to discuss her lovelife with a werewolf?" Lukas asked sarcastically. "Now that's a surprise!"

Lupin grinned. "I'm relieved to hear you sounding like your old self again, my friend!"

"Maybe I will take a few days off," Lukas told Dumbledore. "Spend some time with my pack, get my head on straight. Maybe after the full moon passes, I'll be able to think more clearly." He sighed. "And it's hard to think rationally, when I have to see Tristan every day. He looks so much like my uncle and my grandfather."

"But also like Gwendolyn," Lupin reminded him gently.

"Yes," Lukas said softly. "The only Diggory other than my parents that I cared about. But in some ways, that makes it even harder."

"Go be with your pack," Dumbledore said, patting him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. He meant well, so Lukas repressed the automatic urge to snarl at him. "Take all the time you need. It won't hurt to suspend your classes for a short period of time."

Lukas grinned, baring his teeth in a wolfish manner. "Oh, you won't have to suspend the classes, Headmaster. I have a substitute in mind..."
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When Lukas broke the news to his pack, the younger wolves were excited, as he had expected. "Wow, that's great, Lukas!" a young werewolf, just barely out of his teens exclaimed. "Imagine, one of us, a great Lord!"

"The Diggory family isn't really that wealthy," Lukas said dryly. "At least, not compared to the Malfoys or the Snapes. That's partly because my father burned through the family wealth trying to find a cure for me, which is a sore point with my dear old Uncle Amos."

"But rich compared to us!" the young werewolf laughed.

"Will we all live in a mansion?" another asked excitedly.

"I always knew you were something special," Kyra said with a grin. "You weren't just an ordinary street thug, or even your everyday werewolf--" Everyone laughed at the thought of a werewolf being "ordinary". "That's why I decided to follow you. There was something..." She paused to search for the right words. "An aura of power about you, I guess you'd say. I just knew, somehow, that I could trust you. That you would protect us. That you would make us into something more than just a starveling pack of werewolves."

The older wolves, who had been with Lukas the longest, were a little more circumspect. The grizzled werewolf with the patchwork coat of animal hides (whose rabbit stew had made Martin queasy at Brian's wedding) frowned and said, "It's dangerous, meddling in pureblood business."

"We're as good as any of them!" the first werewolf said defiantly. "We're equal under the law!"

"But not in the eyes of the purebloods," Brian said. Though young, he had been raised as a pureblood, and understood his pack leader's fears and reservations. "It's said that some of them, particularly the Slytherin families, have quietly disposed of members who might stain the family honor. Such as a bastard child with Muggle blood, or a child infected with lycanthropy." Silence fell over the room. "Most times, they would be disowned, as I was, or locked out of sight, as Lukas was, but I am sure that in some cases, the families were desperate and ruthless enough to commit murder."

"Do you think that your father was murdered?" Kyra asked Lukas quietly.

"I really don't know," Lukas replied. "I wish I did. Or maybe I don't, because if I knew for sure, I might be honor-bound to kill Amos, which would earn me a life sentence in Azkaban at best."

"No!" protested the werewolf who wanted to live in a mansion. "You can't leave us! You're the pack leader; what would we do without you?"

"We could kill him in secret!" another werewolf suggested. "A knife between the ribs as he's walking alone--"

"You moron!" Lukas snarled, cuffing him sharply on the ear. "Don't you know that I'd be the first one they'd suspect if Amos were killed? People would say that all werewolves are murderers and monsters after all, and you would have thrown away all the goodwill that we earned in the war!"

"I didn't think of that," the werewolf said sheepishly.

"That's why he's the pack leader and you're not," Kyra pointed out in a wry voice.

"Besides, I don't know that my father was murdered," Lukas continued. "It might really have been an accident."

"Even if it wasn't," Brian said practically, "I don't think that Amos Diggory would try to murder you now. If you would be the most likely suspect in his murder, he would likewise be the most likely suspect in yours. Even if you are a werewolf, he cannot just kill you with impunity when you are a hero of the war and a friend of Dumbledore."

"We will support you, Lukas, whatever you decide," Rachel said quietly. "If you wish to take on the purebloods and fight for your inheritance, we will stand by your side. If you do not, no one will fault you. We have all left behind our past lives and started over. No matter what, you are our pack leader, and we are your pack." The other werewolves murmured their assent, and bowed their heads.

"Thank you," Lukas said. It had been the right decision to come home and be among his pack; he had let his human self brood and worry over it too much. "I need some time to think it over. I'm staying here for the rest of the week; I need to be away from the humans for a little while."

The youngest wolves laughed and turned cartwheels on the floor, acting like a bunch of puppies. "Lukas is home, Lukas is home!" they chorused, and the pack leader grinned; he had missed his wolves, and they had missed him.

"Oof!" he shouted, as one particularly exuberant werewolf jumped on him and hugged him from behind.

"I still want to live in a mansion, Lukas!"

"Get off me, you idiot! You're not a cub anymore!" Lukas lightly cuffed the young werewolf, who recognized it as a playful gesture rather than an angry one, and just laughed and joined the others who were capering around their pack leader.

"Puppies," the grizzled werewolf said in a tone of long-suffering patience.

"They're just excited that you're back, Lukas," Rachel said with a smile. "They miss you."

"Is it really okay for you to stay away from Hogwarts that long?" Kyra asked.

"Funny you should ask that," Lukas said with a grin. "I need to ask you a favor. Do you think you could rearrange your work schedule at the Menagerie for a few days?"
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"I'm Kyra Lowell-Perry," a thin, wiry woman with short black hair announced to the class, "and I'll be teaching you while Master Bleddri is gone." She cast off her patched and faded wizard's robe to reveal that she was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans beneath it, and both of her ears were covered with a row of bright, cheap-looking earrings from lobe to tip.

"Muggle clothes!" Pansy exclaimed, with a kind of horrified fascination.

"Yes," Kyra said calmly, "and much more comfortable to fight in than robes."

"Where's Master Bleddri?" Goyle asked, looking concerned. "Is he sick? He skipped all his classes after first period yesterday."

"Master Bleddri is taking some personal time off," Kyra replied. "He should be back next week."

"Is he gonna become head of the Diggory family?" Crabbe asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Kyra replied, feeling a little puzzled by how happy the pureblood boy sounded at that prospect. "You can ask him when he comes back. I'm just here to teach."

"You?" Crabbe asked dubiously, looking at the slender woman. "I don't mean to be rude ma'am, but I don't want to hurt you..."

Kyra grinned, exposing sharp canine teeth. "Oh, don't worry; you won't."

Aric, of course, recognized her from his trip to the werewolf clinic. "She's a werewolf, you dolt!" he hissed.

"Really?" Crabbe asked brightly. "Wow, that's cool!"

Kyra shook her head in bemusement. "I thought Lukas was pulling my leg," she muttered, more to herself than the class, "but I see he was telling the truth when he said that his students liked werewolves." Then she shook her head and said briskly, "Okay, let's get to work!"

The boys still automatically held back a little when sparring with the small, slim woman, but they soon found out that was a mistake when she threw Crabbe and Goyle flat on their backs.

"Ooh, that hurts," Goyle groaned.

"Lesson number one," Kyra said with a merciless grin. "Never underestimate your opponent."

"Wow, you're so strong!" Pansy said admiringly.

"But werewolves are stronger than humans," Parvati objected. "We could never do that!"

"Oh yes, you can," Kyra told her. "It's true that I'm stronger than a normal human, but I can teach you how to use a larger and stronger opponent's weight against him. It's all a matter of balance." She grinned again and said, "When I'm done with you, you'll never have to worry about a boy getting fresh with you again!"

The girls giggled. "But what if we want him to get fresh with us?" Lavender asked archly.

"All well and good, then," Kyra replied with a wink. "But if he puts his hands someplace you don't want him to, well, you'll be able to put him in his place!"

The girls, who except for Millicent, normally disliked the Physical Defense lessons (Parvati complained that it made her sweaty and Pansy worried about breaking her long nails), clamored eagerly for Kyra to teach them. All the boys, except for Theodore and Blaise, began to look a little worried. "I'm not sure this is such a great idea," Draco muttered, having visions of his arm being broken by Pansy at the Yule Ball. Then again, he probably wouldn't have to worry about that since the Parkinsons no longer wanted her to date him, which, quite frankly, didn't exactly break his heart.

Theodore and Blaise snickered. "Maybe we'd better warn Damien not to 'get fresh' with Parvati," Blaise said with a grin.

"I hope Master Bleddri comes back soon!" Ron groaned.

 

Part 68