Phoenix Rising Part 3 continued

The Slytherin team was the talk of the school; for the first time in years, Slytherin had a chance to bask in glory. Nearly the entire school was still marveling at the unorthodox play that had won them the game, and it was a hot topic of debate whether the play should've been considered a foul and whether there would be an official rules change to prevent such a thing from happening in the future. The boys were divided almost equally down the middle as to whether the play was brilliant or a foul; the girls, of course, almost universally thought it was brilliant. Even the Gryffindor girls, while they were sad that their team had lost, still congratulated Dylan later and told him how well he had played. He gave them his most charming smile and thanked them for supporting him, and they responded with sighs and blushes and giggles, feeling adequately compensated for Gryffindor's loss. Ginny, of course, was one of the few girls who was not moved by Dylan's flirting, but she grudgingly conceded that Slytherin had played (mostly) fair--for a change--and that they had earned their victory. She even told her male teammates to shut up after getting tired of hearing them rant for several days about how the play should have been ruled a foul.

"Oh, stuff it!" Ginny snapped. "The ruling could have gone either way; it went against us, no point in crying over spilled milk. Besides, if I'd been in Dylan's position, I'd probably have done the same thing." This resulted in arguments with both Ron and Dean for "taking Rosier's side". Ron, with a little pressure from Hermione, made up with his sister soon afterwards; it helped that Hermione assured him that Ginny had not the slightest romantic interest in Dylan and had only worn the rose at the game to prove to Dean that he couldn't tell her what to do. Ginny did not make up with Dean, however, and in fact broke up with him for being "too possessive". And while she didn't hold a grudge against Dylan, she did give Damien the cold shoulder for about a week; she was not happy about how he had caused her to fumble the Quaffle. But it wasn't really in her nature to hold a grudge for long, and she was more mad at herself than him, anyway, for allowing herself to get flustered, and returned to regarding him with amusement, if not quite friendliness.

"You know, he is kind of cute," Lavender said thoughtfully. "Not as cute as Dylan, of course, but you could do worse. You're single now, and you said he was flirting with you during the project--"

"I'm not in any hurry to find another boyfriend," Ginny said firmly. She would probably change her mind later, she knew, but right now boys seemed like more trouble than they were worth. She was tired of having to worry about first Michael's and then Dean's hurt pride and sensitive egos. "Besides, he was just flirting for fun, I'm sure. He'd never actually ask a Gryffindor girl out; he's too scared of Draco Malfoy. All the Slytherins are."

"Dylan might be willing to date a girl from another House," Parvati said hopefully. "After all, he was seeing that Ravenclaw girl for awhile, and his mother defied her family to be with his father..."

"Can we please talk about something other than Dylan Rosier?" Ginny groaned.

Other than Ginny, Hermione was one of the few girls who didn't fawn over Dylan, but she did quietly congratulate him when they ran into each other in the library one day.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, giving her a real smile, not that fake-flirtatious one he used on his throng of admirers, and Hermione found herself blushing. She also saved the rose, pressing the flower between the pages of the thick Potions text Professors Snape and Lupin had given her for Christmas. She didn't mention this to Dylan or anyone else, naturally; in fact, she scolded herself for acting as silly as Lavender or Parvati, but she kept the flower nonetheless.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco and Dylan were hailed as heroes in Slytherin House, not just for winning the game but for beating Gryffindor and Harry Potter. The Slytherins were used to being despised by the other Houses, and they savored a rare chance to outshine Gryffindor. Draco was in such a good mood that he didn't seem to mind sharing the spotlight with Dylan, and his mood improved even further when Dylan stretched the truth a little to make Draco look better.

Dylan and Draco were recounting the Quidditch match for a group of wide-eyed younger students in the common room the evening after the game.

"...And I saw the Snitch coming right towards me," Dylan said.

"How did you know what to do?" A first-year boy asked eagerly. "What made you think to throw the Quaffle at it?"

"Well, I didn't know what to do at first," Dylan replied. "If I grabbed it, that would be a foul. And then..." He hesitated, and then inspiration struck. "Draco saw the Snitch was headed my way and he signaled to me, and then I knew what I had to do. I hurled the Quaffle at the Snitch, knocked it away just as Potter was about to grab it, and Draco soared up and caught it! It couldn't have worked better if we had rehearsed it in advance!"

Draco looked a little surprised to hear this version of events, but didn't dispute it. And he smiled proudly as the children stared at him in awe. "Wow, Draco!" said the same first-year boy. "How did you think of that? How did you know Dylan would understand what you wanted him to do?"

"Oh, Rosier understands how I think," Draco said, grinning and throwing an arm around Dylan's shoulders. "We make a great team!"

Theodore smiled and rolled his eyes a little behind Draco's back, and Dylan winked at him. The Slytherins all loudly praised Draco's quick thinking whether they believed the story or not. Some of the younger ones probably did; the rest knew better, but they also knew that this was how things worked in Slytherin, and didn't concern themselves with petty details like the truth. Besides, the main thing was that Slytherin had won; it didn't really matter--not even to Dylan--who had actually thought up the winning play. Even morose Theodore was unusually cheerful for quite some time after the game.

The victory and the adulation of his House left Draco in an extraordinarily good mood, which was a great relief to his housemates. Rather than venting his anger on them, he was actually being nice, in his slightly high-handed way. He even smiled at Lupin when the DADA Professor congratulated Slytherin on their victory the Monday after the game.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied, to the shock of everyone in the room, possibly even Lupin, who looked a bit startled although he recovered quickly. Draco smiled pleasantly, if a bit smugly, still floating in a cloud of euphoria over his victory.

The Gryffindors looked hurt and a little angry that their favorite teacher (and a Gryffindor himself, to boot) had just complimented their rivals. Lupin noticed, of course, and smiled kindly at Harry and Ron. "Both teams should be congratulated," he said. "It was a very exciting game, right down to the final second. You both played extremely well." The Gryffindors did not look every comforted, though. Lupin didn't give them time to dwell on it, nor did he give the Slytherins a chance to gloat. He began his lesson and kept them working hard enough to have no time to think about Quidditch.

Draco was still in a good mood when their next Hogsmeade weekend came around, and treated all his housemates to a round of butterbeer. He even brought back candy for the ones like Dylan and Theodore, who had to remain at school, and Serafina, who always elected to stay behind. Her normally expressionless face filled with shock as Draco casually dropped a bag of candy in her lap and said, "Here you go, Avery." Draco didn't seem to notice, whistling cheerfully to himself as he continued on to his room. She and the other students in the common room just sat there with their mouths hanging open.

"Okay, who is that impostor, and what has he done with the real Draco Malfoy?" Damien muttered.

Draco also seemed to be going out of his way to be friendly towards Damien and Blaise and a few other lower-ranked students he had ignored up until now. Theodore, remembering Lucius Malfoy's instructions to his son to begin recruiting the less wealthy and influential pureblood children, grew uneasy but there was little he could do about it. At least Blaise, though he had no memory of what had happened on Halloween, was smart enough to remain wary of Draco, although of course he continued to flatter him as all the Slytherins did. Damien seemed both flattered and frightened by Draco's overtures, and Theodore noticed that Dylan watched over his friend almost as closely as Theo himself watched over Blaise. Maybe Dylan had finally discovered what the Death Eaters were really like...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco's good mood lasted until early December, when he got a message from his father. When he checked the mirror, it was filled with a swirling cloud of mist, which meant that his father was trying to contact him. "Dad!" Draco said eagerly. "Dad, are you there?"

The mist cleared and Lucius Malfoy's face appeared in the mirror. "Yes, Draco, I am here."

"Did you talk to Mum? Did she give you the sphere? Did you see my Quidditch match?" Draco asked excitedly.

"I don't have time for that right now, Draco!" Lucius snapped impatiently, and all Draco's excitement and happiness drained away.

"What do you want, then?" Draco asked, a bit sullenly.

"Your mother wrote to inform you that you are to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, Father," Draco said sulkily. "Why can't I come home?"

"Because it is the Dark Lord's wish," Lucius said, and Draco perked up just a little. "Severus claims to be concerned about his students' safety since there have been recent vigilante attacks on Death Eater family members and sympathizers. Nothing serious yet, just minor vandalism and a few beatings, but it will probably escalate, so he wishes for his Slytherins to remain at Hogwarts where they will be safe. And rather than letting you remain idle, he proposed tutoring you and the other Death Eater offspring in the Dark Arts during the holidays, and our Lord agrees that would be a good idea. He wishes for you to prepare for the time when you will enter his service."

Draco was still upset, but that caught his interest. He was sure Snape could teach them some interesting spells, and it finally seemed that he would soon be joining Dylan as a full-fledged Death Eater. "Will I get to take the Mark soon, Father?"

"Soon," Lucius said with a smile, "but I don't know exactly when. You must be patient, my son."

"Yes, Father." Then Draco realized there was something odd about the way his father had phrased his earlier statement. "Professor Snape 'claims' to be concerned about our safety?" he asked. "Do you think he's lying?"

Lucius smiled approvingly, and Draco felt a little surge of pride as his father said, "Very perceptive, Draco. I don't necessarily think that Severus is lying, but a good Slytherin never completely trusts anyone. Severus, like any Slytherin, has his own agenda, which for the moment, happens to coincide with ours."

"But I thought the Professor was a loyal Death Eater," Draco protested.

"A Malfoy never trusts anyone, Draco!" Lucius said sharply. "That is how we rose to power, and that is why we have kept our power all these years!"

"Are you saying he might betray us?" Draco asked in confusion.

"I'm saying that you should always be prepared for betrayal, not just from Snape, but from anyone," Lucius said impatiently. "And be prepared to betray them in turn, if you must. I believe that Severus fears us, and the Dark Lord, too much to betray us, but it is wise never to let your guard down with anyone, no matter how loyal you think they are."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, still confused, and now a little frightened as well.

"Have you been watching the children of the lower houses, as I instructed you?" Lucius asked. "And is the Zabini boy behaving himself?"

"Yes, Father," Draco replied, "to both your questions. Zabini doesn't remember anything about what happened at Hogsmeade, and he hasn't made any trouble. He keeps quiet, and doesn't associate much with anyone besides Nott and Rosier, and Rosier's friend Damien Pierce."

"Pierce," Lucius said thoughtfully. "I believe his mother knew Narcissa back in school. Both his parents' families were sympathizers, but they were not quite brave enough to join our ranks."

"Pierce is talented enough at magic, when he stops chasing girls long enough to concentrate," Draco said, a little condescendingly. "He was able to cast a full Patronus in DADA class."

"Do you think he would be inclined to join our ranks?"

"Pierce is very close to Rosier; he'll go along with whatever Dylan and I do," Draco said confidently. "Same with Zabini."

"And the other children?"

"Many of them are eager to see us take power," Draco said. "The others are too scared to stand in our way."

"Good," Lucius said with a curt nod. "Keep exerting your influence over them, and continue to watch them closely. I'll talk to you later." Then he broke off contact before Draco could even say goodbye.

Draco stared at the mirror, which now reflected his face like a normal mirror; his reflection stared back at him, looking sullen and dejected. {Mother must have told him about the game,} Draco thought sulkily. {Surely even if he didn't have time to watch it yet, he could have taken two seconds to say 'congratulations'!} He put the mirror away back in his trunk, and saw the toy dragon Flitwick had given him. He said the command word and let it fly about the room, but that failed to cheer him up. "I'm too old to be playing with toys, anyway," he muttered, kicking it across the room. Then he picked it up and brushed it off, feeling guilty for some ridiculous reason he could not explain, even to himself. He sighed and hid the dragon back in the trunk along with the mirror.

He suddenly felt very lonely, and realized that he had no real friends, no one he could trust enough to talk to about this. He wasn't stupid; he knew that Crabbe and Goyle and Nott were his friends only because of his father's influence over theirs. Same with Dylan...except for maybe that one time, where they had briefly sympathized about their fathers together. But he didn't have a real friend, someone he could trust, someone who liked him just for himself, the way Dylan had Pierce and Nott and Zabini, the way even Crabbe and Goyle had each other. Then he shook his head quickly. "I am not jealous of Crabbe and Goyle!" he told himself indignantly. He decided to go for a walk to clear his head. When Crabbe and Goyle saw him walk through the common room, they jumped to their feet, but he motioned for them to stay behind, and left the Slytherin dorm alone.

He started to head towards Snape's office, then stopped himself. He was confused and disturbed by his father's words. He had taken it for granted that Snape would always be there for him, a loyal supporter of the Malfoys, but now he was no longer so sure of that. What "agenda" could Snape possibly have, besides serving the Dark Lord and gaining power in the wizarding world? That was the same agenda all the Death Eaters had. He had no doubt that Snape wanted power, but surely Snape wasn't stupid enough to cross Lucius Malfoy. Still, he didn't feel like talking to Snape in his current mood.

He trudged aimlessly out of the dungeon and wandered through the castle; all the pleasure he had taken in his recent Quidditch victory had evaporated. It didn't matter that he didn't have any friends to confide in, Draco thought gloomily, because his father had told him to trust no one. No doubt his father would tell him that it was foolish and sentimental to wish for a friend. He suddenly hated Lucius Malfoy for ruining his good mood, for not taking the time to say, "You did great in your match Draco, I'm so proud of you!" The victory he had worked so hard for, and not only had his father not been there to see it, he didn't even care! Then Draco felt guilty; his father must be very busy doing important things for the Dark Lord; of course he didn't have time to worry about a Quidditch match! But still...as busy as he was, how much time would it take to say "congratulations, son"?

He saw a scarf lying on the floor--some student must have dropped it. It was red and gold--Gryffindor colors. He kicked at it, wishing he could kick the student it belonged to instead.

"What did that scarf ever do to you?" a cheerful voice asked, and Draco looked up to see a smiling Professor Lupin. Somehow his wanderings had led him near Lupin's office. "Can I do something for you, Draco?"

"Uh, no," Draco replied, feeling a little flustered. "I was just...walking. And thinking."

Lupin was holding an armful of books and papers, apparently having just stepped out of his office, but he held open the office door and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"What?" Draco asked, not sure he'd heard right.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Lupin repeated, still smiling. "I find it helps me to think better." Even as Draco started to stammer out a demurral, Lupin had placed a hand on his back and was gently but firmly pushing him into the office. Before Draco knew what was happening, he was sitting in front of Lupin's desk holding a hot cup of tea (sugar, no milk).

"You seemed to be very deep in thought," Lupin said, taking a sip from his own cup.

"It's not that uncommon," Draco retorted. "Well, maybe for a Gryffindor--they don't seem to think very much." He braced himself for a reprimand, but Lupin just laughed.

"Unfortunately, that is a Gryffindor-ish trait--to act without thinking, I mean," Lupin said, still smiling pleasantly. "It got my friends into trouble many times when they were your age. They spent a great deal of time in detention--particularly with Professor Blackmore. I see some things never change."

Draco flushed and glared at Lupin, but Lupin seemed to be gently teasing him rather than mocking him. He stared at his teacher in confusion. Why the hell was Lupin always so nice to him no matter how rude he was? And why did he suddenly feel guilty about being rude to Lupin?

"You must be looking forward to your next Quidditch match," Lupin said, as if making small talk. "You played very well in the last game. Your housemates are all very proud of you; I'm sure your parents must be, too."

Draco winced, wondering for a moment if Lupin could read minds, before he dismissed the thought as ludicrous. "My mum is," Draco said sharply, "but my dad didn't get to see it, as you well know!"

"I'm sorry," Lupin said quietly.

Draco was even more bewildered than before. "Why the hell should you be sorry?" he asked in a tone that would have earned him a week's detention from Snape, Lucius Malfoy's son or not. "You're a Gryffindor and a supporter of Dumbledore; you probably wish my dad was back in prison!"

Lupin calmly sipped his tea. "I won't lie to you, Draco," he said solemnly. "I don't approve of the Death Eaters' actions, and yes, I would prefer that they were safely locked away where they would not be able to harm anyone. But I am sorry--not for Lucius, but for you. I know you must miss your father."

"What would you know about it?" Draco snarled.

"Both my parents died several years ago," Lupin said quietly. "I still miss them very much."

"Um...how did they die?" Draco asked apprehensively. "Was it...during the war?" Why did he suddenly hope that his father was not responsible for Lupin's parents' deaths?

Lupin shook his head, much to Draco's relief. "No, it was after the war. My mother was very ill, and my father died less than a year after she did. He wasn't sick himself, but I think he just didn't have the will to go on after she died."

"They were close, then?" Draco asked. His parents got along well enough, but he couldn't picture his dad dying of a broken heart if anything happened to his mother. His parents' marriage had been arranged, of course, in proper pureblood fashion, but it had always been a harmonious one, and if anyone had asked him if they loved each other, up until today, he would have said "yes". But now he was not so sure, as he recalled his father's admonition to trust no one, and his earlier warning not to be ruled by sentiment like Dylan's father had been.

"Yes," Lupin replied to Draco's spoken question. "They were very close." He smiled a little, looking nostalgic, if a bit sad. "Soulmates, I suppose you would say."

Draco sipped his tea. His dad would call that romantic rubbish. But he wondered what that would be like, to have someone who loved you so much that they would rather die than live without you... "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked suspiciously. "And not just to me, but to the other Slytherins--Crabbe and Goyle and Nott."

"You are my student, Draco," Lupin said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "Of course I care about you, and Vincent and Gregory and Theodore. I care about all my students."

"But you're a Gryffindor!" Draco shouted in frustration.

Lupin sighed. "Yes, but I've never really been fond of this arbitrary division of Houses."

"Arbitrary?!" Draco exclaimed in outrage.

"The Sorting Hat is right," Lupin said, sounding almost angry, although it didn't seem to be Draco he was angry at. "This division of Houses has caused too much dissension; it's tearing the school apart rather than bringing it together. When I was a student at Hogwarts, there were people in other Houses I would have liked to have been friends with, but I couldn't, because Gryffindors could only be friends with other Gryffindors. At least, that's what all my housemates thought, though I never really understood why."

Draco just shook his head. Well, it wasn't too surprising that the werewolf was a little loony, he supposed...

"Professor Blackmore thinks the same way I do," Lupin said firmly. "Was it really so bad working with the Gryffindors on your project?"

"Yes!" Draco answered vehemently.

"Yet you completed your project, with flying colors, so Branwen tells me. Did you not feel even a little satisfaction at a job well done?"

"No," Draco replied firmly.

"Well, still, I'm proud of you for managing to overcome your distaste for Gryffindor long enough to complete the project," Lupin said, looking amused rather than angry.

Draco's jaw dropped, and he knew he must look as witless as Crabbe or Goyle but he just couldn't help himself. He felt a brief rush of pleasure at the words "I'm proud of you" and then resentment that they had come from Lupin--a hated Gryffindor!--and not his father. He stood up and set his cup of tea down on Lupin's desk so abruptly that some of the tea spilled out onto the papers sitting on Lupin's desk. "Thank you for the tea, but I have to go now," Draco said stiffly.

Lupin got up to see him out, not seeming to be offended by either the spill or Draco's curtness. "You're welcome, Draco," he said in that cheery tone that always drove Snape up the wall; Draco could sympathize with his Head of House. He wondered what it would take to make the werewolf lose his composure. Then suddenly he remembered that he had seen Lupin lose his temper before--when the Gryffindors had been taunting the Slytherins during his class. Why did Lupin always get so upset when the Gryffindors insulted the Slytherins, yet never seemed to get angry when Draco insulted him?

"Good luck at your next match," Lupin said, holding the door open for Draco. "Oh...and by the way, that was a clever idea you had, with the roses." Lupin grinned at him mischievously and gave him a little wink, and suddenly Draco could picture what he must have been like as a boy.

"Y-you knew that was me?" Draco stammered.

"Of course," Lupin replied. "Dylan couldn't afford to buy all those roses himself, and besides, he doesn't really think that way. He's a very serious-minded boy, considering what a prankster his father was." Lupin laughed. "Evan would have admired the sheer scope of your rose plan."

Draco grinned back at Lupin for a moment, feeling flattered. For all that Lucius Malfoy claimed that Evan Rosier had been a sentimental fool, he still had a reputation as a legendary prankster that had endured at Hogwarts for over twenty years. Draco liked being compared to a legend. Then, horrified, he realized that he was grinning at Lupin, the enemy, and quickly turned his smile into a scowl.

Lupin just smiled and patted him on the shoulder in a fond manner, as if he were Potter or Weasley instead of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin and future Death Eater. "Feel free to stop by anytime for a cup of tea, Draco."

"When hell freezes over," Draco muttered under his breath as he headed back towards the dungeon. But somehow he felt much better, and no longer quite so upset about his conversation with his father.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"And what are you looking so smug about, Lupin?" Snape asked later that night.

Lupin grinned at him. "Oh, nothing. Just trying to win the hearts of your cynical Slytherins." Snape raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly. "I invited Draco Malfoy into my office for a cup of tea today."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. "And he accepted?!"

"Well, he was sort of in a daze, and I hustled him into my office before he could get his wits about him." Lupin frowned and began to look concerned. "He seemed to be lost in thought. I don't think he was even aware--consciously, anyway--that he was near my office until he practically walked into me."

"And you had a cozy little chat over tea with Draco Malfoy?" Snape asked, still sounding incredulous.

"Well, mostly I talked and he listened," Lupin admitted. "But...I think he's upset about his father. I know he must miss him. I suppose it must have been hard on him, to finally have his victory over Gryffindor and not have Lucius there to see it."

Now Snape was frowning. "Yes, but he's been on cloud nine ever since the game, Lucius or not. Something else must have happened to trigger his mood." Snape began to look uneasy. "I wonder if he's been communicating with Lucius somehow. He wouldn't risk using his owl, though I suppose Narcissa might be passing coded messages back and forth between them. Or they could be using some device like our mirrors."

"Should we allow that?" Lupin asked, looking even more worried. "Can't you find a way to confiscate it?"

"I could probably search his room and take it away, if he does have such a device, but how would I explain that to Lucius?" Snape pointed out. "No, better to let Draco think we don't suspect anything. Maybe we can even worm some information out of him, between us. He's not very subtle, despite Lucius's best efforts; I can probably get him to drop his guard and brag to me if I feed his sense of self-importance, and you can work your Gryffindor charm on him, as you seem to have done with my other students..."

"All right, Severus," Lupin said with a smile. "But right now, I'd rather work my Gryffindor charm on you!" He kissed Snape and growled in his ear.

"I'm not sure it's working," Snape said, feigning indifference. "You had better try again." In response, Lupin twined his hands in Snape's hair, pulled his face down, and gave him a long, hard kiss that took his breath away and left him weak in the knees.

"How's that?" Lupin asked in a husky voice.

"Yes, I think it seems to be working now," Snape gasped, putting his arms around Lupin for support.

Lupin grinned. "If you still have enough breath left to talk, it's not working well enough!" he said, and kissed Snape again. When they finally broke off the kiss, Snape dropped to the floor, pulling Lupin down with him. "Severus!" he laughed. "Can't you wait till we get to the bedroom? It's only ten feet away..."

"It's your Gryffindor charm," Snape growled. "I can't help myself."

"Why, you sly Slytherin, you're rather charming yourself!"

"Lupin?"

"Yes, Sev?"

"I believe you were the one saying something about talking too much. Shut up and make love to me."

That was not quite what Lupin had said, but he kept his silence and cheerfully obeyed.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt had begun working on his plan to discredit Gwydion Donner in the eyes of his Master. He walked up to Gwydion's desk and forced himself to smile in a friendly manner. "Gwydion!" he said, in a hearty, cheerful voice.

"Um, hello Kingsley," Gwydion said warily. Shacklebolt had never been particularly friendly to him before; in fact, he was usually just short of hostile, especially since Nymphadora Tonks's suspension, and he wondered what the Auror was up to.

"I wonder if I could talk with you for a few minutes," Shacklebolt said pleasantly.

"I'd love to, but I am a bit busy right now..." Gwydion hedged.

"Azkaban's empty," Shacklebolt pointed out bluntly, sounding more like his normal self. "No point in locking the barn door after the horses are stolen."

"It wasn't my fault!" Gwydion said defensively.

"I didn't say it was," Shacklebolt replied in a soothing tone. "But I'm just saying, there's no need to rush in developing spells to keep the prisoners secure in Azkaban when there are no prisoners left."

"But when the Death Eaters are recaptured--" Gwydion protested nervously. His heart was pounding, and he told himself not to be foolish; there was no way Shacklebolt or anyone else could connect him to the escape...was there?

"Well, you're right," Shacklebolt admitted. "We do want to be ready for them when they finally are recaptured. But surely you can spare an hour for lunch; you do have to eat, after all. Come on, my treat."

Shacklebolt seemed insistent, and there was no way Gwydion could refuse without causing a scene and drawing undue attention to himself. Some of his coworkers were already watching them curiously. "Fine," Gwydion sighed, and followed Shacklebolt to the cafeteria where the Ministry employees normally took their meals. They took their trays to an empty table near the center of the room, and Gwydion asked, "So what do you want, Kingsley?"

Shacklebolt took a bite of his sandwich and slowly chewed and swallowed while Gwydion waited impatiently. "I'm worried about my friend Tonks," he said.

"I can't take the collar off," Gwydion warned him. Was that was this was all about? "It wasn't my decision to put it on her; I was only following the Minister's orders--"

"Take it easy, Gwydion, I'm not blaming you," Shacklebolt said. "I know you were just doing your job. It's just...you have a great deal of influence among the people that matter."

Gwydion relaxed and took a bite of his own sandwich. So that was what Shacklebolt wanted! He had never been the type to play politics before, but maybe he was finally beginning to wise up...this, Gwydion could deal with. As a member of one of the most prominent pureblood families in the country, he was used to people trying to curry favor with him. "I'm not that influential," he said modestly.

"Oh, don't be modest, Gwydion," Shacklebolt said. "You may be new at the Ministry, but everyone thinks you're destined for great things. And you are heir to one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world."

Gwydion preened a bit. "I'm still not sure what it is you think I can do for you."

"Surely you don't believe Nymphadora Tonks is a Death Eater."

"I'm not an Auror, only a researcher," Gwydion said pointedly. "It's not up to me to catch Death Eaters or determine their guilt or innocence."

"You didn't answer the question."

"I don't know Nymphadora very well," Gwydion said cautiously, "but I admit I never thought she would be the type to join the Death Eaters."

"She's a Metamorphmagus!" Shacklebolt said, banging the table with his fist in frustration. "If she were going to participate in a prison break, she'd have disguised her face!"

"Yes, that does seem logical," Gwydion said in a placating tone. "Unfortunately, as I said, it's not up to me to decide her guilt or innocence."

"But the higher-ups in the Ministry like you," Shacklebolt said. "A word or two from you, in the right ear..."

"You overestimate my influence," Gwydion said, but he was intrigued. Shacklebolt was a known supporter of Dumbledore; it could prove useful to have the Auror beholden to him...

"I'd be very grateful for whatever you can do," Shacklebolt said.

Gwydion smiled. "Well, I'll see what I can do, but I warn you, it's not much..."

"I appreciate it," Shacklebolt said, smiling at him warmly. He rose from his chair and held out his hand; Gwydion hesitated for a moment, then shook it. "I'd like to get Tonks's name cleared as soon as possible," Shacklebolt continued. "Though I'm sure we'll recapture the Death Eaters soon."

"You are?" Gwydion asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Do you have any new leads?"

"We're sorting through some tips and rumors," Shacklebolt said casually. "Some of them are just nonsense, of course, but others look promising."

"Really?" Gwydion said nervously. "I mean, that's great! Um...what sort of rumors?"

"We're still trying to sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak," Shacklebolt replied. "But I'll let you know when we've got something more definite."

"Please do," Gwydion said. "I mean...of course I would like to help in any way I can. You might find some of my spells and devices useful."

"Thanks, Gwydion," Shacklebolt said, patting him on the shoulder. "You know, to be honest, in the past I thought you were a bit stuck-up, but you're not a bad sort, Donner. I appreciate your offer."

"No problem," Gwydion said through gritted teeth, pasting a false smile on his face. The Auror left, and Gwydion turned his attention back to his lunch, but found he had no appetite. His stomach was churning with fear, wondering just how much Shacklebolt knew. Surely he didn't suspect Gwydion of being a Death Eater...and clearly he had no evidence, or Gwydion would be clapped in chains right now rather than eating in the staff cafeteria. No, surely no one would ever suspect Gwydion Donner, who had always been outspoken against the Death Eaters and Dark Mages, of being one himself. After all, everyone knew about the rift between himself and his sister, who had been disowned for taking a Death Eater lover. Gwydion relaxed and finished his lunch. No, Shacklebolt merely wanted some help in freeing his little Auror friend, that's all. He sneered a little; he didn't care much for Nymphadora Tonks, with her ridiculous purple hair and her impure blood, but maybe he could use her, or use Shacklebolt's affection for her, to gain some information for his Lord...

Shacklebolt came back to pester Gwydion several times after that, over the next week or two. Each time Gwydion assured his new "friend" that he was dropping subtle hints in the right ears, but it would take some time before his efforts bore fruit. Shacklebolt mentioned a few of the rumors he and his Aurors were sifting through, and mostly they were nonsense (such as the one that claimed the Death Eaters had fled the country and were hiding out in the United States), but one had some basis in fact. As Gwydion was sipping a cup of tea at his desk, Shacklebolt casually mentioned that he and some of the other Aurors had been keeping an eye on the Rosier mansion.

Gwydion choked on his tea, and Shacklebolt patted him on the back. "Take it easy, Gwydion! Oh, that's right...I almost forgot. The Rosier child is your nephew, isn't he?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he's no kin to me!" Gwydion snapped. "What's so special about the Rosier mansion, anyway?" He scowled, remembering that Voldemort had not been pleased that Gwydion had failed to inform him ahead of time that the Aurors had been watching the estate. Of course, there was no longer any need for the Aurors to watch it, now that the Dark Lord had what he wanted...but Shacklebolt didn't know that. {Talk about locking the barn door after the horses are stolen,} Gwydion silently sneered to himself.

"Well, Mad-Eye Moody seems to think that it contains some Dark Magic items that You-Know-Who might want. Of course, no one but a Rosier can get past the guardian roses, but Evan Rosier's son is nearly of age...we'll be keeping a close eye on that one when he graduates from Hogwarts."

{You should've been keeping an eye on him all along!} Gwydion thought sourly. {The little child prodigy didn't wait till graduation to join the Death Eaters!}

"Personally, I think Mad-Eye's a bit paranoid," Shacklebolt continued, in what was probably the understatement of the year, "but I suppose there's no harm in humoring him. Anyway, thanks again, Gwydion, for helping out Tonks."

That very night, Gwydion and his brother were summoned to the Dark Lord's side. Not all the Death Eaters were there; Dylan and Snape seemed to be absent, but Gwydion recognized Wormtail's silver hand and Bellatrix Lestrange's heavily-lidded eyes.

"You have been seen being quite friendly recently with an Auror, one known to be a friend and supporter of Dumbledore," Voldemort said in a cold voice. "Would you care to explain yourself, Gwydion?"

"You mean Shacklebolt?" Gwydion asked, startled. "How did you know about that? I thought I was your only source in the Ministry--"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Gwydion," Voldemort interrupted. "Nothing you do escapes my notice. Crucio!"

Gilbert fell to the floor, screaming. "Stop!" Gwydion shouted.

"If you betray me, Donner, I will slay your brother before your eyes!"

"I haven't betrayed you, Master, I swear!" Gwydion screamed. "Please stop!" Voldemort stared directly into Gwydion's eyes for a moment, then broke off the spell.

"Then explain your sudden friendship with this Shacklebolt," the Dark Lord said, still sounding suspicious.

"He came to me, not the other way around!" Gwydion shouted. "He wants my help in clearing Nymphadora Tonks's name! He wants me to use my influence to help her, that's all, I swear!"

"And have you agreed to help him?"

"I pretended to agree," Gwydion said, squirming under the intense gaze of his Master's crimson eyes. "I thought perhaps I might be able to gain some useful information from him in return. I did it to help you, Master!"

"I see," Voldemort said, holding Gwydion's gaze a moment longer, before breaking eye contact. Gwydion shuddered with relief. "And have you learned anything useful?"

"They don't seem to have any reliable leads on the whereabouts of the escapees--um, my recently freed brethren," Gwydion replied nervously. "And they're still watching the Rosier estate. It was Moody who put them up to it. They don't know exactly what it is you wanted from the mansion, or that you already have it."

"Good," Voldemort said curtly. "Continue gathering information--and Gwydion?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"In the future, be sure to keep me apprised of your activities, in order to avoid such...misunderstandings."

"Yes, my Lord!"

"You are dismissed."

Gwydion and Gilbert Disapparated, not waiting to be told twice. Voldemort turned to his Death Eaters. "We must keep an eye on that one; he won't hesitate to betray us, if he thinks he can do so without losing his precious hide. Your contacts are proving useful, Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy grinned beneath the hood of his robe. "Thank you, my Lord. Clerical workers hear a great deal more than their superiors realize. And the beauty of it is, they can't be exposed as Death Eaters, because they aren't Death Eaters."

"They still have no idea who they're reporting to, then?"

"No, as far as they're concerned, they're merely passing on a little harmless gossip to help some anonymous pureblood family play politics. And the gold I'm paying them keeps them from asking too many questions. It seems our civil servants regard themselves as overworked and underpaid; they're quite eager to supplement their meager salaries."

Voldemort laughed. "Very clever, Lucius!"

"It is my pleasure to serve you, my Lord," Lucius said, with a very self-satisfied smile beneath his hood.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The teachers at Hogwarts usually eased up on the workload when the holidays drew near, since their students' attention spans seemed to decrease around that time, but Snape, Blackmore, and even Lupin, showed them no mercy.

Professor Blackmore had her classes studying how to summon earth and water elementals, although she didn't intend for them to cast the summoning spells yet; she said it was difficult for beginners to summon an earth or water elemental in the winter, when the ground and water were covered with snow and frozen over. But she did summon an ice elemental as a demonstration; like the smoke elemental Soot, it resembled a miniature dragon, only this one appeared to be made of ice. Blackmore led them out of the dungeon into the castle proper, and the children gasped in awe as the ice elemental blew gently on the windows, forming lacy, crystalline snowflake patterns on them. Blackmore cast a spell that would prevent them from melting until after the holidays, and the Headmaster cheerfully thanked her and the elemental for helping with the Christmas decorations.

Lupin continued to drill his students in defensive spells, reminding them sternly that their lives might someday depend on what they were learning in class. They continued working on their Patronus Charms, as well as on shield and stunning-type spells. He also taught them something new, how to draw runes of warding.

"These can be placed on an object, or around a door or window," Lupin explained, "to keep intruders at bay. The simplest wards keep out anyone but the caster; the more complicated ones can keep out or let in certain people specified by the caster."

Harry and most of the other Gryffindors looked eager and excited, but Draco yawned. "Is this really new to you Gryffindors?" he asked contemptuously. "I already have wards on my trunk and desk in my room."

"Then perhaps you can demonstrate for us, Draco," Lupin said smoothly, before the Gryffindors had a chance to respond. Draco blinked in surprise, but obediently walked to the head of the classroom and accepted the plain wooden box Lupin handed him. He used the specially prepared ink Lupin provided to draw a simple lock-rune on the top of the box, then took out his wand and invoked the warding spell. Lupin tried to open the box, and it remained sealed tightly shut. "Very good, Draco," Lupin said cheerfully. "Ten points to Slytherin. You may keep the box," he added, handing it back to Draco, who smiled at him for a moment before he caught himself and sneered. The Gryffindors looked annoyed, but before anyone had a chance to voice a protest, Lupin asked, "Who'd like to go next?"

"Me!" several of them shouted at once, raising their hands. The Slytherins remained silent, but they looked eager as well. Lupin provided a box for each student in his class, and by the end of the period, everyone, even Crabbe and Goyle, had managed to cast a successful warding spell on their box.

The girls were especially delighted; Parvati and Lavender wanted to use their boxes as jewelry boxes. "Can we decorate them, Professor?" Lavender asked. "It won't hurt the ward, will it? The boxes are nice, but they are a bit plain..."

Lupin smiled. "So long as you do not erase the rune of warding, you may decorate it as you wish, even paint over the rune, and the spell will still be effective. In fact, tomorrow I'll show you how to draw a pattern that is both decorative and protective, but for now, our time is up. Class dismissed."

For once, the students were unhappy to see class come to an end, and groaned in disappointment, but they left and headed to lunch, admiring their boxes.

"This is really cool!" Ron said. "I can hide stuff in here, and no one will be able to touch it!" As the second-youngest child in the family, with several mischievous older brothers, he was used to not having much privacy and having his brothers go through his things.

"A strong enough mage can break a simple warding spell," Hermione started to say, but as Ron's face fell, she hastily added, "but this should hold against casual intrusion--like snooping brothers, for instance." Ron grinned again. "And I'm sure Professor Lupin will teach us the more powerful spells once we master the easy ones."

"Do you think he can teach us a spell that can ward out Slytherins?" Ron wondered.

"Ron!" Hermione said indignantly, and Ron and Harry laughed.

"Just joking, Hermione," Ron grinned. "Still, it would be nice, wouldn't it..."

"It would be nice if we could ward you Gryffindors out of the school!" Draco retorted as he walked by with his cronies, but he sounded almost cheerful, and not as nasty as he usually did. With Lupin's box tucked under one arm, he sauntered on his way, not pausing to see if Ron would respond. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini hurried after him, but Crabbe and Goyle lingered behind for a moment and smiled shyly at Hermione. Goyle proudly held up his box, revealing a very carefully drawn warding rune.

"Are you two coming or what?" Theodore called to them impatiently, and they hurried to catch up with their companions.

"What was that about?" Harry asked in a puzzled voice.

"I think they were trying to thank me," Hermione replied, looking pleased. Ron and Harry stared at her in shock. "They were having a lot of trouble drawing the protective runes in Blackmore's class for our project, so I helped them out. I didn't really do much," she added modestly, as Harry and Ron continued to stare at her openmouthed. "I just noticed that they were getting flustered and frustrated when they saw a complicated rune, so I just broke it down into steps to make it seem simpler. Anyway, I think all the practicing we did must have helped them to draw the warding rune today."

"You helped Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said weakly. "And they were grateful?!"

"Yes," Hermione replied cheerfully. "They're not so bad, really, when Draco's not around. I feel sorry for them, actually. It sounds like they have a tough home life. I don't think their parents treat them very nicely."

"Crabbe and Goyle talked to you about their families?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes," Hermione answered blithely, not seeming to notice that her two friends were still in shock. "Do you know that most purebloods don't marry for love? They have to marry whomever their parents pick out, whether they like the person or not!"

"Yeah, well, that's how most of the powerful Slytherin families do it, anyway," Ron said, still sounding a little dazed.

"Your parents' marriage wasn't arranged, was it?" Hermione asked, sounding distressed.

"Hell, no!" Ron said firmly. "They don't go in for all that snobby blood politics stuff!"

"Crabbe and Goyle," Harry muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I have a new assignment that will keep you busy right up until school ends," Snape announced to his Advanced Potions class with sadistic glee, and his students--except for Hermione, of course--repressed a collective groan. Even his Slytherins looked rather put out. "A very challenging project," he continued, ignoring their glum faces. "Not precisely a potion, more of an unguent, really."

Draco and Hermione looked up curiously at that, while Ron whispered to Hermione, "What's an unguent?"

"Five points off Gryffindor for talking during class," Snape immediately said, looking more pleased than ever; it had been some time since he'd had an excuse to dock points from Gryffindor. "Mr. Nott, will you please explain to the less educated members of this class what an unguent is?"

Theodore grinned maliciously at Ron as Draco and the other Slytherins snickered. "An ointment, salve, balm, cream, lotion--"

"I think we get the picture, Mr. Nott," Snape interrupted, but in an almost indulgent tone. "Five points to Slytherin." He turned to Neville with a much more stern expression on his face and asked, "Do you remember what I told the class at the beginning of term, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville went pale as Snape hovered over him almost eagerly, much like a vulture might hover over a dying man, anticipating its next meal. "Th-that the H-headmaster wanted us to learn things about c-combat and defense," Neville stuttered.

"That's right," Snape said, scowling and sounding disappointed; the vulture's dinner had just gotten to its feet and walked away. "This unguent combines both properties."

"Combat AND defense?" Draco asked; Harry resentfully noticed that Snape didn't deduct points when Malfoy spoke out of turn.

Snape, in fact, looked pleased. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Who can name some of the properties of woad?" Both Hermione and Draco immediately stuck their hands in the air. "Draco?"

"It can be used to make a blue dye," Draco said, looking smug. "The ancient Celts used it to paint their bodies when they went into battle. The leaves have healing properties and can be used to staunch bleeding. They're used in certain healing salves and poultices."

"Very good, Draco," Snape said approvingly. "Ten points to Slytherin." Draco smirked at Ron and Harry, who glared back at him. "The so-called 'body paint' the Celtic warriors used was in certain rare cases a magical unguent prepared by a wizard, though obviously, only clans who had access to a mage could obtain this unguent. They used the woad not just for cosmetic purposes, but for its healing properties. The woad, combined with valerian, rue, hyssop, and devil's bit for healing, saxifrage for strength and courage, and vervain for luck and healing, creates a potent unguent that gives the user strength and lessens the severity of his wounds. It won't stop a killing blow, of course, but it will immediately begin to heal minor wounds, and help stop the bleeding and dull the pain of more serious wounds, enabling the warrior to fight on much longer than normal."

Harry forgot his anger, intrigued by this new assignment. There was something he wanted to ask, but he knew that Snape would probably mock his ignorance. Then he mentally shrugged--well, that was nothing new, after all--and hesitantly raised his hand.

Snape's eyebrows shot up, but all he said was, "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Does this unguent provide any protection against magical attacks, sir?"

Snape stared at Harry for a moment, his black eyes unreadable, then answered, "The rue and vervain provide a very limited protection against malevolent magic, but I wouldn't recommend taking on a hostile mage armed with nothing but the unguent." Then he grinned, looking rather malevolent himself. "After you finish brewing your unguent, perhaps we'll test it and see just how effective it is." Harry gulped, Ron turned pale, and even the Slytherins looked nervous.

The unguent (its official name was Celtic War Paint, but Snape seemed to find that distastefully melodramatic, and simply referred to it as "the unguent") was the most difficult and time-consuming concoction that Snape had assigned so far. The other leaves and roots had to be chopped, ground, or mashed, which was tedious enough, but preparing the woad was the most complicated part of the process: the leaves had to be chopped up, steeped in boiling water, the liquid strained off to separate it from the leaves, then mixed with ashes (its alkaline properties being required to "fix" the blue dye, Hermione cheerfully informed Harry and Ron as Snape gave her a sour look, which meant that she was no doubt correct as usual), then that mixture had to be allowed to steep until the sediment settled to the bottom. Then they had to strain it off, add fresh water to the sediment, and repeat the last step several times until they were left with a dark blue sediment, which, when dried, left behind the blue powder which formed the base of the unguent. The dye, Harry and the others found, was difficult to wash off, and several members of Snape's class walked around with blue hands for a few days until Hermione found a cleaning spell that would remove it. The Slytherins, of course, didn't have to worry about stained hands past the first day. Draco claimed that he'd found the spell that kept the dye from clinging to their hands, but Harry suspected Snape had simply given it to them--probably to shut up Pansy Parkinson, who had screeched about her blue hands as if she'd been permanently disfigured until Snape had threatened her with detention.

All the ingredients then had to be mixed together, in very specific proportions, and "steeped in sunlight for one day, then steeped in moonlight for one night," according to Snape and their textbook. The problem was finding someplace safe to "steep" their jarfuls of unguent where they would not accidentally--or on purpose--be knocked over. It was Hermione who came up with the idea of asking Blackmore for help--brilliant, because she seemed to be the only person other than Voldemort that Snape feared, and ever since the incident with Bane, Draco lived in absolute terror of her. Blackmore smiled at Hermione's request, then spoke to Professor Sinistra, who granted them the use of the Astronomy Tower for one day and night. Blackmore herself drew a protective warding circle around the Gryffindors' jars, then went to Snape and cheerfully offered to do the same for his other students. Snape scowled at her, but reluctantly acquiesced. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked relieved, while the Slytherins looked sullen and disappointed--or at least Draco did. Pansy and Millicent didn't seem to care one way or the other, Blaise was quiet and expressionless as usual, and Theodore always looked sullen, so it was difficult to tell whether it was in response to Blackmore or not. But in any case, the jars of unguent were safely steeped and retrieved by their owners the following morning.

The class nervously awaited the "testing" of their unguents. While Harry had envisioned Snape hurling hexes at them or cutting them with a knife to test the efficacy of their unguents, he merely ordered them to coat their hands with it, and set them to work slicing nettles. To Harry's surprise, the prickly stems and leaves did not sting his hands as they had the last time, when he had been preparing them for the Healing Potion that had been their first assignment. Or rather, they stung, but only briefly, then the pain quickly died away.

"Ouch!" Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed as his knife slipped and cut his finger. Then he stared in amazement as the shallow cut slowly sealed itself and stopped bleeding, leaving behind a thin red scar beneath the blue unguent.

"You are clumsy, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Snape observed in a cold voice, "but it seems that your unguent was properly prepared, at least."

"Well, the healing part works," Justin whispered to Harry as Snape moved on to observe the Ravenclaws, "but I don't feel any stronger or braver."

"You'd need to be wearing more of the unguent to feel that effect," Snape said without turning around, and Justin jumped a little. "The ancient warriors used to cover their bodies with it, not just their hands." Justin fell silent and concentrated very hard on slicing his nettles, and Harry privately thought that even if he covered himself from head to toe with the blue unguent, he would never feel brave around the intimidating Potions Master.

After they were done with the nettles, Snape had them cast minor hexes upon each other. He had them work only with their housemates, and Harry was a little surprised--he'd half-expected Snape to set Draco against him, as he had during Lockhart's ill-fated Dueling Club. Snape seemed to notice Harry's surprise and said dryly, "I don't wish to fill out a lot of tedious paperwork if you should accidentally kill one another, particularly so close to the holidays." They discovered that the unguent mitigated the effects of a spell that caused physical wounds, such as a Stinging Hex, but had no effect on something like an Impediment Curse or Disarming Spell. Snape watched them carefully to make sure the hexing didn't get out of hand, so it was almost like one of Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, and Harry, even more surprised than before, found that he was actually enjoying himself. He was almost disappointed when the bell rang and Snape said, "Label your sample vials and leave them on my desk on your way out. Class dismissed."

Harry and his friends removed the unguent from their hands with a cleaning spell and filled their vials. Normally they poured their leftover potions down the drain after giving a sample to Snape, but Harry capped his jar and slipped it into his bookbag. "It might come in handy sometime," he said in a low voice to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "You never know." His friends followed his example and kept their jars, too. Snape's eyes narrowed as he watched them leave, but he said nothing.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Since most of the Slytherins, following Snape's suggestion, were staying behind for the holidays, the Headmaster decided to hold a Yule Ball this year; he said it might help lift the students' morale in these difficult times. Because of this, many students from the other Houses elected to remain at school as well. Everyone was quite excited about it, and Harry was a little torn; he wanted to stay behind and go to the Ball with his friends, but he also wanted to spend Christmas with Sirius. "Well, it's not like I have anyone to go with, anyway," he said a little wistfully.

"Why don't you ask Ginny?" Ron suggested. "You don't have a girlfriend, and she just dumped Dean. I think she's over her crush on you, but you could go as friends and still have a good time. A better time, maybe, than going with a girlfriend, 'cause you don't have to worry about impressing her or being nervous."

"If the two of you are staying for the holidays, I'll stay, too," Hermione said. "I think asking Ginny to the Ball would be a wonderful idea," she added, trying not to look too smug. Clearly, her two male friends were clueless; although Ginny claimed that she had long ago given up on Harry, Hermione thought she might still secretly harbor some feelings for him. Personally, Hermione thought they would make a perfect couple, but she knew Harry would resist if she tried to push the idea on him, so all she said was, "Ginny's been a little depressed since she broke up with Dean. It would do her good to go out and have some fun."

"Well, sure," Harry said slowly, warming up to the idea. "Go to the Ball with a friend, have some fun, no pressure."

"I'll even give you dancing lessons," Hermione said with a grin.

Harry grinned back, then looked worried. "But Sirius will be disappointed if I don't spend Christmas with him."

"What if you spend Christmas with him, but come back to Hogwarts for the Ball?" Hermione suggested.

"Can I do that?"

"You can ask the Headmaster for permission to be on the safe side, but I don't see why not. Dylan is going home for a week and then coming back early to study for his O.W.L.s."

Ron scowled. "Is Rosier going to the Ball?"

"No, he won't be back till a few days later."

Ron cheered up when he heard that. "Well, if Harry's going to the Ball, then we should all go. Um..." He flushed a little and cleared his throat. "Maybe...uh...you and me could go together, Hermione, since, um, neither of us is seeing anyone either."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "Sure, that sounds like fun."

"Then it's settled!" Ron said, sounding relieved. "We'll all go the Ball!"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, in Slytherin, Draco was privately chewing out Dylan. "You can't go home now, Rosier! Snape's supposed to tutor us in the Dark Arts--on our Master's orders!"

"I know, but I can't tell my great-uncle that!" Dylan protested. "He's a supporter of Dumbledore, you know! My family is insisting that I come home for Christmas. I told them that I need to study for my O.W.L.s, but Uncle Math pointed out that I'm already getting top marks in all my classes. I managed to convince him to let me come back a week early, but I'll make him suspicious if I keep arguing about it."

"Didn't Snape tell all the parents that he wanted the Slytherins to stay at school for the holidays?"

"Yeah, but Math doesn't trust Snape. I think he suspects Snape is still a Death Eater. He doesn't trust my mother either; that's why they keep her locked up on the estate all the time. I was lucky they let her come to the Quidditch match."

"Well, I guess it can't be helped," Draco grudgingly conceded. "But you'll be missing out on a week's worth of lessons."

"I'd love to learn more about the Dark Arts," Dylan said in a regretful tone. "My mother's taught me some things, but I'm sure Snape knows a lot, too."

"At Durmstrang they actually teach the students Dark spells, and not just this namby-pamby Defense stuff," Draco said. "Finally, we'll be learning something useful! Don't worry, Rosier; I'll go over the stuff you missed out on with you."

"Thanks, Draco," Dylan said, pretending to be grateful, and Malfoy finally left him in peace. But Dylan was a little worried; of course he missed his family and wanted to see them, but he knew that Snape could have persuaded them to let him stay at school. So why had Snape told him to go home? "Go home and spend Christmas with your family," Snape had said gruffly. "There will be little enough time for such things later. But come back a week early so that I can honestly say that I tutored you in the Dark Arts along with the others." Was there something Snape knew that he wasn't telling Dylan? Was the war going to start soon?

He tried to put these worries out of his mind, since there was nothing he could do about them right now. His female classmates all bemoaned the fact that he would have to miss the Ball, but Dylan wasn't really sorry about that, because couldn't ask out the one person he wanted to go with--Hermione. Besides, it would cause more trouble than it was worth to favor one of the Slytherin girls above the others by choosing one as a date; he preferred to keep things harmonious by treating them all equally, since he wasn't interested in any of them, anyway.

He was a little--well, more than a little--put out when he heard that Weasley had asked Hermione to the Ball. He was furious at the Gryffindor boy for moving in on his territory--although he knew that Hermione would kill him if she ever caught him referring to her as "his territory". And then he was almost amused as it suddenly dawned on him why Weasley had been so hostile to him ever since they had met. {He's jealous!} Dylan realized, then contemptuously thought, {Stupid git! I wouldn't have waited six years to make my move, if I were him!} Most girls would not see Weasley as competition for Dylan, but Dylan knew that Hermione was not most girls; she was not moved by his charm and good looks the way the other girls were (or at least, not much), which was what he liked about her, but it also made him worry that he might actually lose her to Weasley. He had to do something, he decided; at least give her a Christmas present even if he couldn't take her to the Ball. But he couldn't risk being caught sending a present to her by owl. He thought about asking Snape to give it to her, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. But Lupin, on the other hand...

He managed to start an argument with Colin Creevey in DADA class; it was easy enough, with the Gryffindors still feeling a little touchy about their Quidditch loss. All he had to do was gloat a little and make a snide remark about Harry Potter, and not just Creevey but all the Gryffindor boys were up in arms. Lupin gave Dylan a nearly imperceptible wink, and sternly sentenced him to an afternoon's detention, then took ten points from Gryffindor, which was an added bonus. Maybe he should feel a little guilty about that, but after all, it was their own fault for letting themselves be baited like that.

He reported to Lupin's office, where his teacher served him a cup of tea and asked with a smile, "All right, Dylan, what did you want to talk about?"

"I was just wondering if you could give this to Hermione," Dylan said, pulling a small, brightly-wrapped box from his pocket. "I can't do it myself without raising suspicions."

"I'd be happy to," Lupin said, taking the package. "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dylan. "Um...you won't tell Professor Snape, will you? I don't think he would be too happy about it."

Lupin just grinned. "Oh, don't worry about Severus, Dylan; I can handle him."

Dylan noticed, with some trepidation, that Lupin hadn't really answered his question, but all he said was, "Yes, sir."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lupin asked Hermione to stop by his office the following day, ostensibly to discuss an extra-credit assignment she had done for his class. "This is for you, from Dylan. He knows it's not safe to give it to you in person, so he asked me to give it to you for him."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Professor! Actually, I have something for him, too, but I didn't know how I could get it to him..."

"I'd be happy to pass it along," Lupin said cheerfully, feeling rather like Cupid.

Later, in Snape's quarters, Lupin handed Snape a large gift-wrapped box.

"It's a bit early for that, isn't it, Remus?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not for you, love," Lupin replied, laughing. "Though I do have something special in mind for you! But Hermione would like to give Dylan a Christmas present; I thought you could pass it along without raising any suspicions. It would look odd if I gave Dylan detention again so soon after the last time."

Snape scowled. "If you want to play Cupid for two hormonal teenagers, that's your business, Lupin, but please don't make it mine."

"Pretty please, Severus?" Lupin cooed sweetly, nuzzling his lover's neck. "Do it for me? I'll make it worth your while..."

"Oh, very well," Snape said irritably, flushing a little. "Just stop using that insipid tone of voice!" Lupin grinned at him; Snape ignored him and hefted the box curiously. "Feels heavy...must be a book. Not very romantic, but I suppose that's in keeping with Miss Granger's character..."

"You never know, Severus," Lupin pointed out, still grinning. "It might be a book of love poetry." He laughed at the horrified expression on Snape's face, but he suspected that his lover wasn't as opposed to the match as he liked to pretend. "They're your top-marked students, Severus; you should be happy. Think what talented little potion-brewing children they could produce if they got married someday!"

Snape shuddered. "Perish the thought, Lupin!"

"Maybe those children would call us 'Uncle Remus' and 'Uncle Severus,'" Lupin continued, enjoying his little fantasy--and the outraged look on Snape's face.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled.

Lupin burst out laughing as Snape glared at him. When he got himself under control again, he handed Snape another package.

"What's this?" Snape growled. "Does Dylan have another Gryffindor girlfriend?"

"No, Severus," Lupin replied calmly. "That one's for you. From Hermione. She asked me to give it to you."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed, staring at the small gift-wrapped parcel in shock. "Why would she do that?"

Lupin shrugged. "Maybe she likes you." Snape snorted derisively. "Or perhaps she appreciates the effort you go through, to teach and protect her and her friends. Maybe it's because of the gift you gave her last year."

"The gift that YOU gave her last year," Snape corrected him. "And I hope neither you nor she expects a repeat performance."

"Oh, come on, Severus," Lupin wheedled.

"Absolutely not!" Snape roared. "I'm not going to let you trick me again, Lupin! I'm not giving you a single Galleon to spend on those brats!"

"But Severus--"

"Besides," Snape continued, "it would be showing favoritism to give presents to only some of my students and not the others."

It was Lupin's turn to snort in derision. "Like you ever cared about that before! Are you getting Dylan a Christmas present?"

Snape blushed a little, confirming Lupin's suspicions. "Well, yes," he admitted reluctantly. "But none of his classmates will know, since he's going home for Christmas. I'll owl it to Mathias's estate. I'll even send Granger's gift along with mine, but I'm not buying presents for your Gryffindor brats!"

Snape refused to be moved, despite Lupin's wheedling and nagging. But Lupin thought Snape looked just a bit touched and bewildered as he looked down at Hermione's present again, before disdainfully tossing it aside, saying, "I can't imagine what that idiot girl was thinking!" So Lupin smiled and held his peace.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was absolutely ridiculous, Snape told himself, to feel any sort of obligation towards the girl; he hadn't asked her to give him a present, after all. And he had never used the green scarf she had given him last year--he never wore anything but black if he could help it. But he still had it tucked away in the bottom of his dresser drawer; Snape didn't receive many Christmas presents, and part of him was loathe to discard one even if it was totally useless, although he was too embarrassed to admit that to anyone, even Lupin. So somehow he found himself gift-wrapping a textbook on warding spells; it wouldn't do to send a Potions text, because he intended to send it anonymously, and he knew that Lupin was covering warding in his Defense classes. However, the only problem was figuring out how to get it to the girl without anyone suspecting...

Then Bane showed up at his office, as he often did, hoping to cadge a treat, and Snape was struck by inspiration. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a large foil-wrapped chocolate Santa, one he had confiscated from a particularly idiotic first-year Hufflepuff after he had caught the boy eating candy during class. He shook his head a little, wondering if the students were letting their guard slip because it was so close to the holidays, or whether he was losing his touch at terrorizing the little brats.

Meanwhile Bane cawed eagerly and reached for the candy, but Snape pulled it out of his reach. "Do you want this, Bane?" he asked, and the raven nodded eagerly. "Then you'll have to do me a favor first." Bane cocked his head to one side, and listened attentively. "Take this package to Miss Granger, and don't let anyone see you deliver it, understand? And don't tell anyone, including your mistress, that it was from me." He felt a little silly saying that last sentence, but he suspected that Bane was able to communicate intelligently, at least with Branwen, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Bane nodded, picked up the package by grasping it by the ribbon with his claws, and flew out through the fireplace. He returned several minutes later and claimed his reward. Snape, feeling very smug and pleased with himself, scratched the raven on the head as Bane greedily consumed the piece of chocolate.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Parvati, Lavender, Pansy, and Millicent were gathered in the Incantations workshop, supposedly studying, but were actually gossiping about the Ball. Blackmore had declared that since the mixed groups had worked so well before, she would like to see them continue with the same study partners. The boys all complained loudly about that--safely out of Blackmore's presence, of course--but the girls didn't really mind.

"It's too bad Dylan has to go home for Christmas," Pansy sighed mournfully.

"Yes, too bad," agreed Lavender glumly.

"It doesn't matter," Millicent pointed out. "Pansy would still have to go with Draco, and Draco would never allow Dylan to take a Gryffindor to the Ball, so none of you would be able to go with him, anyway." She sighed wistfully, "Maybe I would have had a chance to go with him, though..."

"So you're going with Malfoy again?" Parvati asked Pansy, who nodded, without much enthusiasm. "You don't look too happy about it."

"Oh, Draco's all right, I suppose," Pansy said indifferently. "He's good looking, he's rich, and he comes from a good family. He's pretty full of himself, but I could do worse."

"Yeah, you could be going with Crabbe or Goyle," Millicent said.

Pansy made a face. "Draco's a good catch. At least, that's what my mother says. I'll probably have to marry him someday."

"What?!" Parvati and Lavender squealed.

"Well, my parents have been hinting that they'd like to arrange a marriage between us when we come of age," Pansy explained, looking confused at the Gryffindor girls' surprise. "That's how things are done, after all. Malfoy and I both come from good families. Aren't your families at least dropping hints about who they'd like you to marry?" Parvati and Lavender shook their heads, and it was Pansy's turn to look shocked. "You're purebloods, aren't you? Didn't your parents have arranged marriages?"

"My parents were school sweethearts; they met and fell in love at Hogwarts," Lavender said.

"My mother's parents were friends with my father's parents," Parvati said, "and they sort of encouraged them to get together, but they wouldn't have forced a marriage on them if they didn't like each other."

The Slytherin girls shook their heads in disbelief. "Gryffindors," Pansy muttered.

"So who are you going to the Ball with?" Lavender asked Millicent, trying to change the subject.

"Theodore Nott," Millicent replied unenthusiastically.

"Oh," Lavender said, surprised. "Well, he's a bit...um...lanky," she said in a falsely bright tone, "but he's not really bad-looking or anything. At least, he wouldn't be, if he didn't scowl all the time..."

"He only asked me because Draco told him to," Millicent interrupted in a gloomy voice. "I don't think he even likes girls. At least, I've never seen him look twice at one..."

"Then why don't you go with someone else?" Parvati suggested. "Blaise Zabini, maybe--he's kind of cute, if a bit quiet. Or Damien Pierce--"

Millicent shook her head. "You don't understand Slytherin politics, Parvati. Damien's family isn't as high-ranking as Theodore's, and the Zabinis are just one step up from being paupers. My parents would have a cow. Besides, Draco wants me to go with Nott, and it's not wise to offend the Malfoys." She looked even gloomier as she added, "I just hope my parents don't make me marry Nott."

"It's still better than marrying Crabbe or Goyle," Pansy said with a shrug. "But my mother says his parents will probably arrange a marriage with the Avery girl, since their families seem to be close."

"You're right," Parvati said, shaking her head uneasily. "I don't understand Slytherin politics." Mention of the Malfoys' influence reminded her that the Death Eaters were still at large, and she didn't want to think about such unpleasant things right now. "Well, we can still have fun at the Ball," she said briskly, changing the subject again. "What are you going to do about your robes and your hair?"

"I don't know," wailed Pansy, tugging at a lock of her lank, blonde hair. "I can't do anything with my hair!" She gazed enviously at Parvati's long plait of sleek, dark hair. "I wish I had hair like yours!"

Parvati, feeling flattered, gazed at the Slytherin girl with an appraising eye. When the Slytherins had been their enemies, the Gryffindor girls used to joke that Pansy had a face like a pug, but that wasn't really true. She had a round face, yes, and a short, upturned nose, but she wasn't ugly. "Your hair is too long and heavy; it doesn't suit your face," Parvati said. "You should cut it; it would look much better short."

"You think so?" Pansy asked uncertainly.

"I know so," Parvati said firmly. "I can cut it for you, if you like."

The Slytherin girls stared at her suspiciously, and Lavender added, "Parvati does my hair; she's really good at it!"

"Well, okay, I guess," Pansy said dubiously. "But if this is some kind of trick--"

Parvati sighed irritably. "I wouldn't do something like that! We're friends now, aren't we?" Pansy and Millicent looked startled but pleased. "Look, if you don't trust me, you can have Millicent watch while I do it." Parvati grinned. "She can hex me if I try something funny."

"Okay, then let's do it," Pansy said in a determined voice. "Quick, before I change my mind."

Lavender ran back to the Gryffindor dorm to fetch Parvati's shears and mirror. "Don't squirm," Parvati warned, as Pansy shifted nervously in her seat, watching her blonde locks fall to the floor. "Unless you want to end up bald!" Pansy forced herself to remain still, and finally Parvati said, "All done!"

"You look good," Millicent said, sounding a little surprised.

"Let me see!" Pansy said eagerly, and Lavender handed her the mirror. She now had a chin-length bob, which somehow made her look more pert than puggish. She tossed her hair and smiled with delight.

"You look so cute!" squealed Lavender, and Pansy preened.

"My head feels a lot lighter without all that hair," Pansy laughed. "I like it! Thanks, Parvati!"

"What about me?" Millicent asked eagerly, and Parvati looked at the tall, heavily built girl, who usually wore her long black hair in braids or a ponytail. She was never going to look delicately pretty, but...

"For you, we want a more regal look," Parvati decided. "We don't need to cut your hair, just style it differently." She brushed out and re-braided Millicent's hair, coiling it around her head in complicated arrangement that looked like a coronet. She stuck in a couple of hairpins to hold it in place, and triumphantly said, "There!"

Millicent gazed at her reflection in the mirror, while Pansy and Lavender cooed over her and told her how regal and queenly she looked. Meanwhile, Parvati looked at her creation with a critical eye. "Not bad, but it would look better with a couple of jeweled hairpins, and maybe we could weave some ribbons into the braids. Green and gold, I think, with your coloring. You should get a floor-length robe; dark green velvet--nothing frilly or fancy, something simple and elegant."

"What kind of robe should I get?" Pansy asked, eager for Parvati's advice now.

"No ruffles or frills like that robe you wore back in fourth year," Parvati said firmly. "And nothing pink--it makes you look all washed out. Something more bold--red, maybe. Hmm." She took out her notebook and quill and began making some sketches.

"How did you get to be so good at this?" Pansy wondered out loud.

Parvati smiled with pleasure. "Oh, I've always loved clothes and make-up and pretty things. I used to dress up my dolls and make outfits for them when I was little."

"And now you have life-size dolls to work on," Lavender laughed.

"My parents call me frivolous sometimes," Parvati admitted. "But...I'd like to be a fashion designer someday." She blushed. "I guess that's silly..."

"No," Pansy replied. "If you designed a line of robes, I'd buy them."

"Me too," Millicent and Lavender chorused.

Parvati smiled happily, and Pansy added, "Can I borrow this sketch? I want to send it to my mother and ask her to buy me a robe that looks like that for the ball."

"Sure!"

Professor Blackmore stood outside the door, listening to the girls' conversation; Bane had been spying on them, and had gone to report to his mistress that the girls were gossiping and playing around instead of studying. But instead of bursting in on them and giving them detention, she only smiled, lifting a finger to her lips to warn Bane to keep silent as well, and quietly returned to her office.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Although he was sorry to be missing the Ball, Dylan was happy to be home with his family on Christmas morning. His first present was a new broomstick--a very good one, but not quite as good as the one Draco owned. From the wink his mother gave him, Dylan was sure that was quite deliberate; Ariane, at least, understood how House politics worked, and knew better than to make Draco jealous. Dylan grinned back at her and opened his other presents. There was a chess set from Uncle Math, a book on the history of Quidditch from Aunt Goewin, and some new clothes from his mother--robes and shirts in black, silver-gray, and Slytherin green. "You have to keep up your image as a heartbreaker, after all," Ariane said fondly. She also gave him a silver hair clasp etched with the Rosier design of a rose in bloom surrounded by thorny vines; Goewin frowned a little when she saw that, but said nothing. There were presents from his friends, of course--some Zonko's magic tricks from Damien, and a set of Gobstones from Blaise and Theo; they knew better than to buy him candy (although Draco had given him a box of Chocolate Frogs) because they knew he would receive more candy than he could eat from his female admirers, and they were right.

"Oh my," Goewin said, staring at all the boxes of candy and cookies, many of them accompanied by perfumed notes; a few of the more creative girls had written poetry. "You certainly are popular, Dylan."

"That's my boy," Ariane said proudly. "Just like his father!" She began reading some of the love notes. "'Roses are red, violets are blue'--this one's rather trite!" She crumpled up the note and tossed it aside. "Now this one at least is a bit more original--'Your eyes like twin pools of mercury...'"

"Mother, please!" Dylan protested, blushing. Ariane laughed merrily, and Dylan smiled, and decided that a little embarrassment was worth it to see his mother acting so happy and carefree, looking like the young girl his father must have fallen in love with. He laughed along with her and continued opening his presents. Somewhat to his surprise, he found he had gotten presents from three of his teachers: a book on advanced protective runes and circles from Blackmore, a model Firebolt that could really fly from Lupin, and a book called Advanced Potion Brewing from Snape.

"My, my!" Ariane said, raising her eyebrows. "Who would have thought Severus could be so sentimental?"

"It's a textbook, Ariane," Goewin pointed out.

"Believe me, Goewin," Ariane replied, "for Severus, that's sentimental."

Dylan privately agreed with his mother; he had not expected Snape to give him anything for Christmas, and felt touched and pleased that he had. He felt a little guilty that he hadn't gotten anything for Snape, though, or Lupin, for that matter.

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear," Ariane said dismissively. "I sent Severus the usual Christmas bribe--imported French chocolates; very expensive, very high-quality." Goewin gave her a reproachful look, and Ariane calmly told her, "It's Slytherin politics, Goewin. It's traditional to bribe the Head of House to make sure he looks after your children. Evan's parents used to do the same thing, only Professor De Lacy preferred a bottle of good Scotch to chocolates." Goewin sighed, Dylan laughed, and Math looked amused.

After setting aside Snape's book, Dylan found that he had only one gift left. "It's from Hermione!" he exclaimed with delight.

"Yes, it came along with Severus's gift," Ariane said. She sighed a little, resigning herself to the possibility of a Muggle-born Gryffindor daughter-in-law someday. Well, she was hardly one to complain about unsuitable matches, she supposed...

Dylan was too busy tearing the wrapping off the box to notice his mother's reluctance. He opened the lid, revealing a leather-bound book, a quill, a bottle of ink, and a smaller parcel within the box. He picked up the book and saw that it was decorated with a pattern of warding runes around the cover. "It's a diary," he said in surprise. He found a note lying inside the box and read it. "Hermione gave me a diary," he explained to his family, "with a warding spell keyed to me so that no one else can open it, and a bottle of invisible ink. She says because I have to hide my true thoughts and feelings from everyone, I might like to have something I can secretly confide in."

"Be careful, Dylan," Ariane warned. "Such spells can be broken."

"I know," he replied. "I won't write down any dangerous secrets in here. But I appreciate the thought behind it. It's hard sometimes, not being able to tell anyone, even my friends, the truth..."

"I'm sorry, dear," Ariane whispered, hugging him. If only she had not set him on the road to becoming a Death Eater, if only she had recognized the danger sooner...

"It's all right, Mother," Dylan said softly, as if reading her mind. "It's not your fault. Professor Snape says the Dark Lord would have come after me sooner or later no matter what."

Ariane sniffled a little and wiped her eyes. "You have another present inside the box, dear."

Dylan unwrapped the smaller parcel, revealing a gray wool scarf just a shade darker than his eyes. It was embroidered on one end with a red rose. Dylan grinned and wrapped it around his neck.

"You look very handsome, Dylan," Ariane said, kissing him on the cheek and feeling slightly less perturbed about the possibility of a Muggle-born daughter-in-law.

"You have to open your presents now," Dylan urged, and settled back to watch his mother and aunt and uncle open their gifts. He had given Uncle Math a book on Welsh folklore and legends; Math knew such tales by heart, but he was still fond of reading and rereading them. For his mother and Aunt Goewin, he had brewed bottles of perfume from rose petals, which had been child's play after the difficult assignments he'd completed for Professor Snape. Both women seemed pleased, especially his mother. He also gave Ariane a silver rose pendant, and Goewin a stuffed teddy bear.

"For the baby," he said with a grin. "My future cousin."

Goewin smiled and hugged him, then continued opening her presents. The next one was a bulky, oddly shaped package. "It's from Remus," she said in a startled voice as she read the tag. "I wonder what it could be?" She tore off the wrapping, and Dylan burst out laughing when he saw what lay beneath it: a big, plush, black toy bunny rabbit that looked almost exactly like the hexed Bane. Dylan was laughing so hard that it took a few minutes before he could get himself under control enough to explain to his puzzled family what was so funny. "You'd better not let Professor Blackmore see that," he added, and began laughing again.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape spent a very pleasant Christmas morning with Lupin, who fixed them mugs of hot cocoa and snuggled up to Snape contentedly as they began opening their presents. Snape supposed it was a bit selfish of him, but he enjoyed having Lupin all to himself, at least for the morning and most of the day--their presence would of course be required at the Yule Ball tonight with the other teachers. There were the usual gifts of obligations from the Slytherin parents, of course--candy and spellbooks and expensive bottles of liquor. There were also the more welcome gifts from their friends. For Snape, there were boxes of sweets from Dumbledore and Professor Kamiyama, and some rare potion ingredients from Branwen. For Lupin, there were the usual tin of inedible cookies from Hagrid; warm, fuzzy striped socks from Dumbledore (Snape rolled his eyes at those); more sweets from Kamiyama and several volumes of manga comic books from his grandchildren; a blue sweater from Molly Weasley (she also sent Snape a green-striped one that he had no more intention of wearing than the one she had given him last year); a new adventure novel Lupin had been wanting to read from Branwen; a box of Canary Creams from Ron and Harry; a hand-knitted scarf in Gryffindor colors from Hermione; and new robes from both Tonks and Sirius.

Lupin joked, "I've gone from shabby, patched robes to being the most well-dressed teacher in the school!" Combined with the robes Snape had given him for Christmas and his birthday over the past few years, Lupin now had quite a respectable wardrobe. The robes from Sirius were a surprisingly practical gift from his impractical friend: heavy, black wool with a waterproofing spell cast on them; very expensive and perfect for winter. The robes from Tonks were a bit more colorful: Gryffindor colors, bright red and gold.

"Well, what do you expect from a woman with violet hair?" Snape muttered, staring at the bright, almost gaudy robes with a look of distaste. "Perhaps she's color-blind."

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin chided. "It's the thought that counts."

"Just please don't wear those in public!"

"My, my, who would have thought you were so fashion-conscious?" Lupin teased.

"Everyone knows that Gryffindors have no taste," Snape retorted.

"Then what does that say about the fact that I love you?" Lupin asked, smiling at him tenderly.

"I'm sure most people would agree that only proves my point," Snape replied in a wry voice, but he smiled back at Lupin and handed him his own gift.

Lupin opened it, revealing two more robes: one a pale blue, the exact color of Lupin's eyes, and the other a deep golden-brown that nicely set off his fair skin and light brown hair. "Thank you, Severus," he said, kissing his lover. "They're beautiful. And this is for you."

He handed Snape a small box containing a ring shaped like a coiled snake that resembled a smaller version of the copper serpent bracelet he wore on his wrist, an earlier gift from Lupin during their first Christmas together after Lupin had returned to Hogwarts three years ago. Lupin seemed fond of giving him serpent-themed gifts, for some reason. Snape supposed that was Lupin's way of showing that he embraced the Slytherin side of Snape, much as Snape embraced Lupin's inner wolf. Snape did not feel quite so comfortable about the more devious, selfish side to his personality, but he loved Lupin for accepting him as he was, so he cherished Lupin's gifts. He slipped the ring on his finger and said, "Thank you, Remus."

"I know it's probably not safe for you to wear it in public," Lupin said apologetically. "But I wanted to give it to you anyway, because I love you. I don't know, maybe it's a way of convincing myself that someday the war will end and we won't have to hide anymore--"

"It's all right," Snape interrupted with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You don't need to apologize, Remus. I love it. I love you. I'll keep it safe until the day I can wear it openly." He caressed Lupin's face. "That day will come, Remus."

"I hope so, Severus," Lupin whispered.

"It will," Snape promised, and kissed Lupin.

Lupin smiled, trying to shake off his melancholy mood; Severus had seemed so happy this morning, and he didn't want to spoil Christmas for his lover. Then he caught sight of Hermione's present, lying in the corner of the room where Snape had discarded it several days ago. "Sev, you never opened Hermione's present."

"Must I?" Snape sighed.

"Yes, of course you do!" Lupin insisted. "Come on, I want to see what she got you!"

Relieved to see that Lupin seemed to be feeling better, Snape gave in without a fight. "Oh, all right!" he said in a huffy voice that made Lupin grin, and retrieved the present. Lupin's grin actually made him feel grateful towards the girl--not that he would ever tell her that, of course. He tore the package open and a black wool scarf fell out.

"It's lovely, Severus," Lupin said.

"Well, at least it's black," Snape said gruffly. He firmly told himself that he was not at all touched by the gift. The girl knitted clothes for house-elves, for Merlin's sake, so it wasn't as if it was something special...

"You sound a bit choked up, Severus," Lupin observed with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Snape cleared his throat and snapped, "You're talking nonsense as usual, Lupin! Of course I'm fine!"

Lupin smiled mischievously, but didn't contradict him. He took the scarf, wrapped it around Snape's neck, and said, "You look so handsome, Severus!"

"Hmmph!" Snape snorted irritably, but preened a little nevertheless.

"I have two more presents for you," Lupin added. "Here."

Snape opened the present Lupin gave him, which turned out to be a huge box of chocolates. "Thanks. So where's the other present?"

"Right here," Lupin said in a sultry voice, and began to slowly unfasten his robes. A little too slowly for Snape's taste, and he jumped up and began undressing Lupin with considerably more enthusiasm than he'd shown while opening his other Christmas presents. Lupin laughed, "I'm so glad that you're finally showing a little Christmas spirit, Severus!"

"Tis the season, Lupin," Snape said with a wicked grin.

"And hang onto those chocolates," Lupin said, grinning back at him. "You're the one who told me chocolate is an aphrodisiac, and you need to keep up your strength. We have the whole day ahead of us..."

"And werewolves are insatiable," Snape finished, still grinning.

"Well, I can't speak for all werewolves," Lupin said. "But this one is. And this werewolf would like to spend the entire day making wild, passionate love with you."

"Your wish is my command," Snape said with an extravagant bow. And he dutifully set about fulfilling that wish.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, Sirius, Tonks, Professor Blackmore, and the Weasleys were enjoying Christmas morning together at Grimmauld Place. Hob was not left out, either. He found a stocking hanging up outside his cupboard door stuffed with sweets, and three gaily wrapped presents from the children lying beneath the stocking. Not clothes, he was relieved to find, because receiving clothes would mean that he would have to leave this house, but peppermint sticks and a huge bar of Honeydukes chocolate and a small clay pipe. (The last was probably from one of the boys, because Hermione disapproved of smoking.) Hob contentedly puffed on his pipe and munched on a peppermint stick as he listened to the sound of laughing children--which was just the sort of noise a hob liked his house to be filled with.

Fred and George gave everyone gag gifts from their shop; Ron and Harry took turns eating Canary Creams and turning briefly into giant canaries until Mrs. Weasley finally shouted at them to stop. Harry gave Ron a poster and biography of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons; Ron gave Harry a box of Chocolate Frogs. Hermione gave them both Potions textbooks "to help you keep up in Snape's class". Harry gave Hermione a book on runes, and Ron gave her a bottle of perfume (she had seemed to like it last year, and he figured he'd stick with a sure thing), and she thanked them profusely for both gifts. Professor Blackmore gave them Summonings textbooks, and Lupin gave them books on lifting curses. Harry and Ron flushed and gave Bane a guilty glance when they opened Lupin's gifts. In an attempt to make peace with Bane, they had decided to get him a Christmas present: a big bag of chocolates from Honeydukes. The bird did seem to regard them much less balefully after that, although Blackmore sighed that Bane was getting a little fat. The bird was enormous, but he didn't look any fatter to Harry than he had during the summer, but he wasn't about to argue with Blackmore about it. Sirius gave Harry another penknife (one that could magically unlock doors and undo knots) to replace the one he had broken trying to break into the Department of Mysteries, and Tonks gave him a model flying Snitch. Harry thanked her and tossed it back and forth for a little while with Ron and the twins, but playing with the Snitch reminded him uncomfortably of the young and quite full of himself James Potter in Snape's Pensieve memories. Crookshanks began batting at it, and Harry readily surrendered it to the cat for the moment, and watched the others open their presents.

Mrs. Weasley gave everyone sweaters as usual, of course. Percy didn't come for Christmas (he was spending it with his girlfriend Penelope's family), but he didn't send back his Christmas present this year, either. He even sent a Christmas card (all it said was "Best wishes, Percy," but that was an improvement over last year) and a tin of Christmas cookies to his family. "Stuck-up git," Fred muttered, but Mrs. Weasley seemed pleased. Harry didn't much like Percy, but he hoped for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's sake that this was the first step in Percy patching things up with his family.

To Harry's relief, Snape didn't give them any Christmas presents this year, although he and Lupin did give Blackmore a book about tengu (Japanese shapeshifters, Sirius informed Harry when he asked) and a box of chocolates, which was apparently meant more for Bane than for Blackmore; at least the raven seemed to regard the box with a very proprietary air.

To Ron's great displeasure, Dylan Rosier gave Hermione a silver charm bracelet with four tiny silver charms attached to it: a rose, a wand, a book, and a quill. Hermione blushed as she put it on and held it up to be admired. Ginny made a great fuss about how pretty it was; Tonks gently teased Hermione about how popular she must be; Mrs. Weasley said, "How lovely, dear," in an indulgent tone as Ron scowled at her; and Blackmore merely smiled and looked very amused.

"Just like his father," she murmured in a fond tone, and because it was the dreaded Professor Blackmore speaking, Harry and Ron refrained from pointing out that Dylan being "just like his father" was not necessarily a good thing, considering that his father had been a Death Eater.

Finally, Hermione found she had one gift left. "It doesn't say who it's from," she said in a puzzled tone as she looked at the tag, which had only her name on it.

"Ooh, I love a mystery!" Tonks said with a grin.

"Maybe it's from a secret admirer!" Ginny giggled.

"Open the gift, dear," Mrs. Weasley suggested practically. "Perhaps there's a note inside."

Hermione eagerly tore off the wrapping, revealing a textbook on warding spells, but no note. There was no inscription inside the book, either.

"Well, it's obviously not a secret admirer," Ron said with relief. "Nobody in their right mind would consider a textbook a romantic gift!"

"It's a great gift!" Hermione said, sounding a little offended. She flipped through the book enthusiastically. "This is a really great book; it goes beyond the stuff Professor Lupin covered in class. I was thinking of buying it myself, but it's kind of expensive..."

Ron thought to himself, feeling annoyed and amused at the same time, that both he and Rosier were going about things all wrong--the way to Hermione's heart was not through jewelry or perfume, but through textbooks! {I should have known better,} he told himself ruefully.

"Maybe it's from Professor Lupin," Hermione said. "We were covering warding spells in his class."

"Lupin already gave you a present," Harry pointed out. "That book on curses, just like the ones he gave me and Ron. Besides, I'm not sure he has enough money to go around buying expensive books for his students, even if he is employed again."

"It's not from you, is it, Professor Blackmore?" Hermione asked, a bit timidly.

"No, dear, I gave you the Summonings text, remember?" Her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her...but she kept it to herself; it was only a suspicion, after all, and besides, she wanted to see if the girl was clever enough to figure it out on her own.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat there trying to logically puzzle things out. Neither Ginny nor Ron had enough money to buy such an expensive present; Harry did, but he was clearly just as puzzled as she was. Besides, it wasn't the sort of thing her friends would have picked out unless she had hinted about it to them, which she hadn't. It was more the sort of thing an adult would give to a promising young student. Blackmore, Sirius, and Tonks all said it wasn't from them; Lupin was the logical choice, but it would be out of character for him to give her two presents when he had only given the other children one apiece, and besides, why would he leave his name off the tag? Then her eyes widened as she suddenly thought of someone who knew a great deal about magic, who had an appreciation for scholarly texts, who had enough money to buy expensive books, and who most definitely would not want his name on any Christmas tags...

"Did you think of who it might be?" Ginny asked, noticing the expression on her face.

"No," Hermione said innocently, feigning a sigh of disappointment. "I guess it will just have to remain a mystery. But whoever it is, I'm very grateful to them!"

Since all the presents had been opened, Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time for breakfast. The mention of food (and a promise of waffles from Mrs. Weasley) reminded the boys how hungry they were, and they ran off to the kitchen, forgetting all about the mysterious textbook. Ginny gave Hermione a suspicious look, and Hermione just grinned and gave her an "I'll tell you about it later" look. Branwen let the children run ahead, and stayed behind to clean up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbon--which Bane was currently playing with, gathering bits of bright paper and shiny ribbon as if he were nothing more than an ordinary raven. But when she gave her familiar a closer look, it seemed to her that he looked just a bit smug.

"Do you know something you're not telling me, Bane?" Branwen asked, scratching him on the head affectionately.

Bane cocked his head to one side, giving her a look that seemed to say, "Who me?" and helped himself to one of his Christmas chocolates.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You look very handsome, Theo," Blaise said a little wistfully as he watched Theodore get ready for the Ball.

Theodore scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He was too tall and thin, and while his hair was black like Blaise's, it always looked coarse and a little unkempt, no matter how recently he'd combed it. Blaise's hair always looked smooth and sleek, while Theodore privately thought to himself that he looked more like Bane going through a bad molt. Too busy worrying about the Death Eaters to bother with a haircut, Theo had let it grow out longer than usual, and it was currently falling over his collar, nearly reaching his shoulders. He wondered if he should cut his hair, but decided it wouldn't make any difference one way or the other. "You need glasses," he told his lover in a grumpy voice.

"I like your robes," Blaise said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Theodore from behind. "They bring out the green in your eyes. I don't get to see you dress up very often." Theodore's dress robes were a very dark green that looked almost black until the light hit them just right. Custom-made and very expensive; his mother was very concerned that he look the part of a proper pureblood heir. Of course, she didn't seem quite as concerned about the fact that Theodore's father liked to test out new curses and hexes on his son on a regular basis. The old man needed to practice on someone, Theodore told himself sourly, until the Death Eaters were allowed to go hunting Muggles and Mudbloods again. But it wasn't really accurate to say that his mother wasn't concerned about him--she was just too scared of his father to do anything about it. After his father was done tormenting him with some particularly nasty and painful curse, his mother would cry and fuss over him and tell him how sorry she was--but by the time he was five, Theodore had figured out that was all she was ever going to do. By the time he was seven, he was heartily sick of her useless sympathy, and from then on spurned all such attempts, hardening his heart to her pleas for forgiveness. By the time he was eight, she had more or less given up trying to comfort him, and seemed to accept her son's contempt as her due.

"Theodore?" Blaise asked, sounding concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I just don't want to go to the Ball," Theodore said sulkily.

"I wouldn't mind going if I could be your date," Blaise said playfully.

"Even if it wouldn't get me into trouble with Malfoy, we'd be laughed out of Slytherin," Theodore said sullenly.

"I'd risk the scandal for your sake," Blaise said in a joking tone, but he looked a little hurt, and Theodore felt guilty.

"I don't really care what anyone thinks of me," Theodore said apologetically, "but it's just not safe. Malfoy--"

"It's okay, Theo," Blaise said gently, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "I understand. We can celebrate tonight after Ball, just the two of us." He grinned at Theodore. "Save a dance for me?"

"I hate dancing," Theodore groaned.

Blaise laughed and hugged him, and after a moment's hesitation, Theodore hugged him back, clinging to him almost desperately. Although Blaise tried to hide it, he was very concerned about his friend and lover. Ever since the Death Eaters' escape from Azkaban, Theodore had been more remote and sullen than ever. Sometimes, like now, he would cling to Blaise like he was afraid to let go of him, and at other times, it almost seemed like he was trying to push Blaise away from him. But Blaise tried not to feel too hurt by that, because he suspected that Theodore was only trying to protect him. Theodore had never talked much about his family, and Blaise had assumed that was because he was ashamed of his father being a Death Eater. But after the prison break, he realized it was much more than that: Theodore was terrified of his father. He had gone so pale when Dylan had told them the news, and ever since then, he'd had frequent nightmares. But what Blaise found odd and rather frightening was that Theodore never screamed during them; in fact he barely made a sound. He would tremble and toss and turn in his sleep, and his face would contort with fear, but only an occasional, barely audible whimper would escape from his lips. A horrified Blaise realized that Theodore had somehow trained himself to have quiet nightmares, and not to scream himself awake no matter how bad they were. He wondered uneasily what Theo's home life was like, that not only did he have such terrible nightmares, but he was afraid to make a sound in his sleep. Blaise also learned not to wake him up too suddenly; the first time he'd tried to shake his lover awake during one of the nightmares, Theodore had thrown him out of bed and lunged for his wand--he had actually pointed it at Blaise before fully waking up and realizing where he was and who had woke him. Blaise wasn't sure what spell Theodore would have used, but decided it was better not to find out. From then on, when he felt Theo trembling next to him in his sleep, he would gently kiss and caress him, whispering soothing endearments until Theo stopped shaking, then Blaise would carefully put his arms around his lover and let him drift back into a peaceful slumber. Theodore usually didn't even wake up during the process; when he did, he always looked anxious and embarrassed, and would absolutely refuse to tell Blaise what the nightmares were about.

Blaise had his suspicions. Lately he had realized, for all that they were best friends and lovers, that he actually knew very little about Theodore. He didn't know what the nightmares were about. He knew that Theo was one of the few students able to see the Thestrals, but he didn't know whose death Theodore had witnessed, and Theodore refused to tell him. And...Blaise didn't know what had happened to himself on Halloween. He remembered leaving for Hogsmeade, but everything after that was a blur. Snape and Madam Pomfrey had told him he'd had a fever; Snape's eyes had been expressionless as they often were, but there had been something in Pomfrey's eyes that told him there was more to it than that. And Theodore had been watching over him very carefully and nervously since then, warning him not to go anywhere alone with Malfoy, though (of course) he wouldn't say why. Not only that, but a couple of days after his Halloween illness, Blaise noticed a burn on Theodore's wrist; he had been trying to conceal it, but that was difficult to do when they shared a room and were lovers. He'd been wondering why Theodore was suddenly so reluctant to get undressed around him, and finally caught him applying salve to the burn on his wrist, which looked suspiciously like a handprint. Theo had claimed that it was a minor hex, a stupid prank, nothing to worry about. But Blaise did worry--about Theo's burn and his fear of his father, about the Death Eaters' return, about the fact that Draco was suddenly being very friendly to Blaise when he had always been beneath Draco's notice before, and most of all, about the gap in his memory--which reminded him uncomfortably of the "accident" that had befallen Professor Lockhart. Blaise had the sneaking suspicion that all of these things were somehow related, but no amount of coaxing, arguing, or even begging would persuade Theo to shed any light on the subject. "It's safer for you not to know," was all Theodore would say.

Theodore had missed out on their last Hogsmeade trip because Snape had given him detention for spilling his potion in class; which was odd because Snape rarely gave the Slytherins detention for things like that, but Theo claimed that Snape had been in a bad mood because the Gryffindors had been unusually well-behaved, giving him few opportunities to dock points or give out detention to them. In any case, Theodore had seemed almost relieved to stay behind, and insisted that Blaise stay behind as well, which he was more than willing to do, although he wished Theo would tell him exactly what was going on.

Still, since Slytherin had won the match over Gryffindor, Theodore had been more cheerful than usual, and things almost went back to normal. But as the holidays approached, he started to brood again. Snape sent out letters to the parents urging them to leave their children at Hogwarts over the holidays "for their own safety," and Theodore had been adamant that Blaise stay back with him. Blaise had been pleased that they'd be able to spend the holidays together, but then he noticed that Theodore and a few other select members of Slytherin were sneaking off to Snape's office for "special tutoring". "To prepare for our N.E.W.T.s," Theodore claimed, but it didn't escape Blaise's notice that all the students Snape was tutoring were the children of Death Eaters.

"Just what is Snape tutoring you in?" Blaise asked quietly, even though he knew Theodore wouldn't give him a straight answer.

Theodore let go of him and scowled. "I told you, he's helping us prepare for our Potions N.E.W.T.!"

"I'm not stupid, Theo," Blaise retorted, "and I don't think he's teaching you anything that's covered in any official exams! He's tutoring you in the Dark Arts, isn't he--?"

"Shut up!" Theodore hissed. "How many times have I told you that it's not safe to talk about--"

"I don't care!" Blaise shouted. "I'm worried about you!"

"You should stay away from me," Theodore said, now looking more despairing than angry. "It's not safe to be with me. You should have let the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw."

"Too late for that now," Blaise said, wrapping his arms around Theodore again. "And I told you before, I won't leave you, no matter how dangerous it is! I love you, Theo!"

"I love you, too," Theodore whispered. "That's why you have to trust me; I only want to keep you safe. You don't know what the Death Eaters are like...as bad as you think they are, as bad as the Daily Prophet makes them out to be, the reality is a hundred times worse."

This was more than Theodore had ever confided in him before. "So why are you letting Snape tutor you in the Dark Arts?" Blaise asked quietly. "I know you don't want to be like them..."

Theodore just stared at him for a very long time; he seemed to be trying to make up his mind about how much he should tell Blaise. Blaise waited anxiously, afraid to say anything for fear of breaking the mood and sending Theo back into an uncommunicative silence. Finally, Theodore said, "Snape's all right."

"Are you sure?" Blaise asked skeptically. "Isn't he, well, one of them...?"

"Do you trust me, Blaise?" Theodore asked, his murky green eyes very solemn.

"Yes," Blaise replied without hesitation. As frustrated as he got with Theodore's stubborn silence at times, he knew that Theo was only trying to protect him.

"Then believe me when I say he's all right. I can't say anything more, but..." Theodore hesitated. "If...if anything bad happens, and I'm...not around...go to Snape, okay?"

When Theodore said "not around," Blaise had the sinking feeling that he was talking about something permanent and possibly fatal. "You're scaring me, Theo," he whispered.

"Good," Theodore said grimly. "You should be scared. Fear is a self-defense mechanism. It's supposed to keep you from doing stupid things that will get you killed. Like talking too freely about...You-Know-Who and his followers."

"I trust you, Theo, but Snape...?"

"Who else is going to look out for a Slytherin?" Theodore asked bitterly. "The Headmaster?"

"Well..."

"All he cares about are his precious Gryffindors!"

"I'm not sure that he--"

"People like him only care about the big picture!" Theodore insisted. "People like you and me, we're expendable! He might shed a tear or two afterwards, but he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice the likes of us if he thought it would help him win the war!"

Blaise was more open-minded than most Slytherins, but distrust for Gryffindor had been ingrained in him by his family as it had been in most of his housemates. And he knew that most outsiders considered "Slytherin" synonymous with "Death Eater". He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was one of those people, but perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry. "Well, what about Lupin or Blackmore? They've treated us fairly and haven't favored the other Houses."

Theodore frowned thoughtfully. "Blackmore is a fair teacher, true enough, but she used to be an Auror," he said slowly. "She killed people during the war." Comrades of Theodore's father, were the unspoken words that neither boy wanted to say aloud. "I wouldn't trust her...not unless there were no other choice." Theodore added that last remark only because he knew that if things got bad enough, there might be no other choice. If for some reason Theodore and Snape were not able to protect Blaise, then he would rather Blaise go to Blackmore than the Headmaster, because despite having been an Auror and having slain Death Eaters, she still had Slytherin blood, and if even a fraction of the rumors were true, came from a long line of Dark Wizards. She might, just possibly, have some sympathy for a Slytherin child in need. As for Lupin...

"I think Lupin would try to help you if you were in trouble," Theodore said. "But I'm not sure how effective he'd be. He's a good mage, but one mage alone can't stand against...those people we were talking about."

"Snape is only one man himself," Blaise pointed out. "What makes him a better protector than Lupin?"

Theodore scowled. "Isn't it obvious? Snape has influence among...the people that matter. Lupin has none. My father's...friends...might listen to Snape, but they certainly won't listen to Lupin. And Lupin's a werewolf, just barely tolerated in society. Say he attacked a supposedly upstanding citizen to protect you or me--who do you think the Ministry would listen to? Who do you think they'd punish?"

Blaise went cold with fear; if he had been scared before, he was utterly terrified now. He knew Theodore was right; the Ministry had not believed Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater until they had caught him red-handed leading an attack on the Ministry of Magic. Even now, as a fugitive on the run, he wielded enough power that everyone in Slytherin was afraid to offend his son. What chance did one unimportant, softhearted werewolf have against people like that? Likely all they would accomplish by going to Lupin would be to get him in trouble as well--maybe even killed. "Theodore," Blaise whispered.

But before he could say anything else, there was a loud knock at the door, and both boys jumped. "Come on, Nott!" Draco called out cheerfully. "Let's not keep the ladies waiting!"

Theodore's face settled back in its normal sullen expression, and he opened the door without another word to Blaise. "Fine," he said sulkily. "Let's go." He and Blaise fell in step behind Draco, along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You look like you're going to your own funeral, Nott," Draco said lightly. "I know Millicent probably isn't your idea of a dream date, but try and have a little fun."

"Yes, Draco," Theodore said gloomily.

"At least you HAVE a date," Crabbe told Theodore in a surly voice. He and Goyle were dateless, as usual.

Draco seemed to be the only one in a good mood. "What about you, Zabini--couldn't find a date, either? You should have told me, maybe I could have fixed you up."

Blaise just smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, Draco, but I don't think there are many girls who would want me for a date." He indicated his black dress robes, which were slightly faded and several years out of date; Draco, of course, was dressed in brand-new, very stylish black velvet robes. Blaise didn't have to say, because everyone in Slytherin knew, that while he came from an old pureblood family, they had no money and therefore, no influence.

Draco grinned at Blaise in a sly and conspiratorial way. "Stick with me, Zabini, and you'll be moving up in the world fast enough. Play your cards right, and you'll have girls flinging themselves at your feet. And more than girls--money, power, influence."

Blaise gave Draco what he hoped was a properly fawning smile, but inside he was more afraid than ever.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Pansy and Millicent met their dates in the common room, and all the boys' jaws dropped open. "Wow, you look great, Parkinson!" Draco blurted out, and Pansy smiled smugly at the sincere if rather inelegant compliment. Her new haircut suited her well, and following Parvati's advice, she wore an off-the-shoulder red velvet gown that clung to her torso then flared slightly at the waist, falling to the floor in loose folds. It was low-cut enough to show a hint of cleavage (or "decolletage" as Parvati preferred to say), but not low-cut enough to be improper. A pair of small ruby earrings (borrowed from her mother) and a bit of red velvet ribbon tied around her throat like a choker completed the picture.

Millicent wore her braids--woven through with gold ribbons--up in that coronet style, held in place by a few hairpins topped with glittering green stones. Her robes were green velvet with a bit of gold trim--a simple, almost severe style with long sleeves and a high neck, but it suited her. She looked like a queen, Parvati and Lavender told her, but Millicent wasn't sure she believed them until she saw the boys' reactions. "You look...nice," was all Theodore said, but he looked mildly impressed, if in a slightly detached way. Crabbe and Goyle were outright gawping at her, and even Draco gave her an appreciative glance before turning his attention back to Pansy. Blaise smiled politely and said, "You both look very nice."

Damien Pierce walked into the room accompanied by his date, a pretty--if slightly feather-headed--blonde Slytherin yearmate named Yvonne. His jaw dropped open like the other boys' and all the normally loquacious (and most flirtatious) boy in Slytherin could say was, "Wow!" Yvonne glared at him, and when that had no effect, elbowed him none too gently in the side, and he blinked and closed his mouth. He made a quick recovery, smiled at his date, and said gallantly, "My, don't all of you Slytherin ladies look lovely this evening?"

The girls giggled, and Draco offered his arm to Pansy, saying, "Shall we?" She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. Theodore offered his arm to Millicent, although with less enthusiasm, and they all headed for the Great Hall.

The teachers were dressed festively and looked cheerful, except of course for Snape, who, as usual, was dressed in black and had a sour expression on his face. Even Blackmore got into the holiday spirit, wearing a wreath of tinsel on her head, and had hung a tinsel garland around Bane's neck.

After dinner, the dancing began. Pansy was enjoying herself; Draco was a good dancer and was being a properly attentive date, even if his favorite topic of conversation was himself. Millicent was not having quite so good a time. She was dancing with Theodore, who moved a bit stiffly but at least managed to avoid stepping on her feet, but he obviously would rather be anywhere than at the Ball.

To occupy herself, she turned her attention away from her unwilling partner and scanned the dance floor. Lavender was dancing with Seamus Finnigan, and Parvati with Dean Thomas. Millicent noted that she was not the only one with a less than enthusiastic escort; Thomas seemed to be paying more attention to Ginny Weasley than his own date, much to Parvati's obvious displeasure. Ginny seemed oblivious, and appeared to be having a good time dancing with Harry Potter. Potter's little sidekick Weasley was dancing--rather ineptly--with Hermione Granger.

"Oops, sorry about that," Weasley said, flushing, as he trod on Granger's foot--obviously not the first time he had done so.

Granger winced, but smiled and said, "It's okay, Ron. Just relax. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Damien Pierce waltzed by with Yvonne, and his smile was beginning to look a little forced and his eyes a little glazed, probably because she was babbling nonstop about Dylan Rosier. Millicent loved gossiping about Dylan, too, but she had enough sense and manners not to do so in front of her date--although Theodore probably wouldn't care. Then, to her surprise, Millicent saw Serafina Avery go up to Blaise Zabini and ask him something--for a dance, apparently, because he looked startled, then smiled and led her out onto the dance floor. Millicent was shocked that Serafina had shown up in the first place, and even more shocked that she was actually dancing; she hadn't bothered to dress up for the Ball, wearing a very plain black robe, and she looked about as happy to be there as Theodore and Snape did. Perhaps her mother had forced her to come, although House gossip had it that Serafina paid little heed to her parents' wishes.

Then Millicent got yet another shock as she glanced up at her date; Theodore was staring at Blaise and Serafina with a look of surprise and jealousy on his face. Hmm...perhaps Nott did like girls, after all. Everyone assumed that Nott and Avery would eventually be paired off by their parents, although the two had never seemed to be particularly fond of each other. But perhaps he had taken her for granted, as boys often did. Or perhaps he wasn't fond of her, but just didn't like the thought of anyone, even his friend, poaching on his future bride. Unless...could it be Blaise who was the object of his affections and not Serafina? But honestly, Millicent couldn't picture either of the two--quiet, studious Zabini or strange, emotionless Avery--inspiring feelings of passion in anyone. She looked up at Theodore again, and his face was once more fixed in its usual sullen, remote look, and she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Blaise was sitting with his fellow dateless housemates, Crabbe and Goyle, watching the dance floor and wishing that he could be dancing with Theodore instead of Millicent. Not that he blamed her, of course; in fact, he felt rather sorry for her, because Theodore wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he'd been drafted into being her date. Draco had insisted on fixing her up with one his inner crowd, which was a pity, because she would probably be having more fun with someone who actually wanted to be there. And she looked surprisingly nice tonight, although the effect was totally wasted on Theodore. She wasn't exactly pretty, but the braids and the new robe looked quite impressive on her--not so much the fairy tale princess look most of the girls were trying for, but more like a Valkyrie or Celtic warrior queen, perhaps. He saw Parvati and Lavender look at Millicent and Pansy in a rather smug way, and he wondered if they'd had anything to do with the Slytherin girls' dramatic makeover; they had been surprisingly friendly ever since Blackmore had grouped them together for the Summonings project. They had tried to keep it low-key, but Blaise had still thought Draco would have a fit, but instead he had taken advantage of it by arranging the rose giveaway for Slytherin's Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

"Blaise?" a soft voice said, breaking his train of thought.

"Oh, hello, Serafina," Blaise said politely, looking up with a start. He was surprised that she had bothered to come to the Ball; she had come alone, and looked less than thrilled to be here.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Serafina asked, her voice and face expressionless as always. Crabbe and Goyle stared at her in shock, their jaws hanging open.

Blaise realized that he was doing the same thing and quickly closed his mouth. "Uh, sure," he replied. He rose to his feet and held out his hand; she took it, and he led her out onto the dance floor. They began dancing, a little awkwardly, since neither of them had much practice at it, and Blaise said, "I, um, didn't think you'd be here tonight. I mean, this doesn't really seem like your sort of thing..."

"It's not," she replied glumly. "I was going to skip it, but my mother insisted I go. So I thought I'd just stay for dinner and then leave, but she made me promise that I'd dance at least once, so here I am. Thanks, by the way. For helping me keep my promise."

"No problem," Blaise replied, still in shock. Serafina had just said more to him right now than she'd said to him all last year, and he would have thought that a girl capable of hexing her own father would have no qualms about disobeying her mother's orders to attend a school dance.

He was too polite to voice these thoughts out loud, but they must have shown in his eyes, because Serafina explained, "My mother's going through a hard time right now. Going to a stupid dance isn't such a big deal if it makes her feel better." Then she flushed, looking a little embarrassed, perhaps at having revealed a rare hint of emotion. "Actually, I would have asked Theo to go with me, but Draco had already set him up with Millicent."

"Theo doesn't want to be here anymore than you do," Blaise said with a smile.

"Yes, I can tell," Serafina said in a dry voice, and to Blaise's surprise, she almost smiled. "I almost feel sorry for Millicent." Then her expression turned serious, and she whispered in a voice soft enough that the other dancers wouldn't overhear, "Please look out for Theo, Blaise."

He stared at her in shock, causing Serafina to stumble when he suddenly forgot to move. He quickly resumed dancing and whispered back, "I'll try. But I'm not really sure what I can do."

Serafina gave him a sad little smile. "Neither am I."

Blaise was very curious about her uncharacteristic behavior, and he wondered if he could glean some information from her. "I didn't think that you and Theodore were close," he said cautiously.

"We're not," Serafina replied. "But he was always nice to me when we were little; at least, he never made fun of me the way the other kids did. He's not a bad person." Her eyes flickered over in Draco's direction, and she lowered her voice. "At least when he's not hanging around with Malfoy."

"He's not a bad person at all," Blaise whispered firmly, aware that this conversation was taking a rather dangerous turn. But this might be the only chance he would ever have to talk to her; even if he could catch her alone in the Slytherin dorm, who knew when she would be in such a garrulous (for her, anyway) mood again? "He just knows it isn't wise to offend Draco."

"I know," Serafina said softly.

"How can I help him, Serafina?" Blaise whispered. Fortunately Draco was on the other side of the dance floor, out of earshot, and while he looked surprised to see Blaise dancing with Serafina, he didn't look suspicious. In fact, he grinned and gave Blaise a thumbs-up. Theodore flashed him a quick, sour look before turning his attention back to Millicent.

"I don't know, Blaise," Serafina replied. "If I did, I would do it myself." For just a moment, her expressionless mask slipped, and she looked sad and frightened and despairing, all at the same time, before she regained her composure a few seconds later.

"What about you, Sera?" Blaise asked, and she looked startled at hearing him use her childish nickname. "Who's going to look out for you?"

"I can look after myself," she said firmly.

Blaise knew that wasn't true; if it was, she wouldn't have looked so frightened, and she wouldn't be asking him to watch out for Theo. It scared him that both Serafina and Theodore were suddenly so worried; everyone knew that the Dark Lord was back and that war would come eventually, but he suspected they knew something more specific than that--something that would cause Serafina to break her usual silence, something that would make Theo tell Blaise to go to Snape for help if "anything bad" happened.

But while he was trying to think of a safe way to ask her what that something might be, the song ended. Serafina curtsied to him, said, "Thank you for the dance, Blaise," and left the dance floor. She moved at a quick walk, not a run, but she deftly threaded her way through the other dancers and vanished before Blaise could catch up to her. He heaved a sigh of disappointment and headed for the refreshments table, where bowls of punch and pumpkin juice had been set out.

He had just ladled out a cup of punch for himself when Damien showed up. "Hey, you were dancing with Avery!" Damien exclaimed. "What's up with that?"

Blaise shrugged. "No big deal; she promised her mother she'd come to the Ball and stay for at least one dance. She kept her promise and left. She didn't really want to come in the first place. Neither did Theo."

Damien laughed and gave him a sly grin. "Yeah, because he couldn't take his first choice for a date! But Millicent looks pretty good--who'd have thought she could look so, well..." He paused, trying to think of the right word.

"Elegant?" Blaise suggesting. "Regal?"

"Yeah," Damien agreed. "Pansy, too. Maybe the Gryffindor girls' fashion sense rubbed off on them or something." He stared a little wistfully at Parvati and Lavender, who were still dancing with their dates.

"Yvonne looks nice," Blaise said. "Not as stunning as Parvati, maybe, but she's pretty enough. Aren't you having a good time?"

Damien made a face. "Not really. I think she only agreed to go with me so she could ask me to fix her up with Dylan!" Blaise laughed, and Damien joined in, laughing good-naturedly. "Well, I knew she wasn't really interested in me. I'd rather have asked out one of the Patil sisters, or maybe Ginny Weasley, but then I'd be in hot water with Malfoy."

"Maybe you could cut in on Theo," Blaise suggested with a mischievous grin. "I think both Theo and Millicent would thank you for it!"

"Hmm, maybe I will," Damien said with a speculative look in his eyes. But just then, Miles Bletchley walked up and tapped Theodore on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked.

"Not at all," Theodore said in relief, relinquishing Millicent to him. Millicent looked startled but not displeased. Bletchley was no Dylan Rosier, but he was a seventh-year and the Keeper of the Slytherin Quidditch team, so she still felt flattered that he wanted to dance with her. And on the plus side, he was tall and muscular enough that she looked almost dainty beside him. Well, maybe not dainty, but normal at least; she felt like a troll next to some of her scrawnier male classmates. She beamed at him, and he grinned back at her, looking pleased and flattered himself, and they began to dance. Maybe the Ball would turn out to be fun after all...

Theodore joined his friends at the refreshments table. "Why were you dancing with Sera?" he demanded of Blaise.

"Not jealous, are you?" Damien asked with a grin. Blaise kicked him in the shin and shot him a quelling look.

"She promised her mother that she'd go to the Ball and dance," Blaise replied calmly. "She fulfilled her word to the letter and left. She didn't want to come in the first place; she was just humoring her mum." He decided not to mention Serafina's warning, at least, not yet. It wouldn't be safe to discuss it in public, anyway.

"Oh," Theodore said sheepishly, and gave Blaise an apologetic smile. "I should've known." He turned to Damien. "What happened to your date?"

"She's off powdering her nose or something," he replied, sounding unconcerned. "All she wants to do is talk about Dylan, anyway, and ask if he's seeing anyone and whether he might be interested in her..."

Theodore laughed. "So the Ball is a bust for you, too." He saw Draco and Pansy leave the dance floor and slip out into the garden. "Malfoy and Parkinson seem to be having a good time, though."

"The teachers seem to be having a good time, too," Damien observed. Most of them took at least one turn on the dance floor; Dumbledore was currently dancing with Professor McGonagall, Hagrid was dancing with Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Blackmore, of all people, was dancing with Lupin! She was laughing and smiling up at him, looking quite pretty and girlish, and not at all demonic. "I can't believe it!" Damien exclaimed at that unexpected sight.

Blaise grinned. "Well, she did dance with Dylan's father when he was a student here. So I suppose she does like to relax a little when she's not terrorizing her students."

"Hmm, do you think there's anything going on between her and Lupin?" Damien wondered.

"A werewolf and a demon," Theodore observed darkly. "A perfect match."

Blaise laughed. "Well, Lupin's the nicest werewolf I've ever met!"

"The only werewolf you've ever met," Theodore pointed out, but he smiled a little.

"And it's only a rumor about the Blackmores having demon blood," Blaise continued. "You don't know that it's true."

"It must be!" Damien insisted. "No normal person could be that scary! Even Snape seems a little scared of her." He watched her dance with Lupin and added, "She's awfully pretty for a demon, though."

Theodore grinned, a little wickedly. "Demons can take the forms of beautiful men and women, in order to seduce human victims. But if you find her that attractive, why don't you go up and ask her for a dance, like Dylan's dad?"

Damien shook his head vigorously. "I'm not that brave!"

The boys all laughed. When the song ended, Blackmore curtsied to Lupin, who bowed to her, then they returned to the head table.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Will you dance with me, Severus?" Branwen asked, mischief sparkling in her green eyes.

Snape just crossed his arms and scowled at her. "You've got to be kidding," he said.

"I'm dead serious," she laughed, and his scowl grew even fiercer. "Oh, come on, Severus," she cajoled. "For old time's sake."

"No," he said stubbornly, settling back more firmly in his chair. But Branwen reached out and grasped one of his hands as Lupin accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Snape's chair while making his way back to his own seat, tipping the chair and knocking Snape off balance just long enough for Branwen to pull him out of his seat and drag him onto the dance floor.

"I'm going to kill you," Snape growled into her ear, even as he gave in to the inevitable and put his arm around her waist and reluctantly went through the steps of the dance.

"You're welcome to try, Severus," Branwen replied cheerfully.

"You're making a spectacle of us," Snape pointed out sourly, as the students all stared at them. "How am I supposed to explain this when word gets out?"

"You're cultivating me," she said smoothly, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Trying to win me over and gain information. I may be demonic, but I have a soft spot for my former students. You're just taking advantage of that."

"Not bad," he muttered in an equally soft voice. "Though it's still dangerous. You know the school will be gossiping about this for weeks. You're behaving almost like a Gryffindor."

"I wanted to dance with my two favorite students this Christmas night," she murmured with a smile. "And by the way, Severus, speaking of gossip--do you realize while we're talking like this, it looks like we're whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears?"

Horrified, he jerked away from her, and held her as far away from him as he could, dancing almost literally at arm's length. She laughed merrily, and he scowled at her.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Okay, so which one is she interested in?" Damien wondered. "Snape or Lupin?"

"Snape's a better match for her," Theodore said. "They're the two scariest teachers in the school. Lupin's too nice; werewolf or not, she'd eat him alive."

"Funny, though," Blaise said thoughtfully. "Lupin doesn't seem to be scared of her the way Snape is."

That might have something to do with the fact that Snape had once been one of the Death Eaters Blackmore had hunted down as an Auror while Lupin had not, but Theodore knew it wasn't safe to voice such a thought out loud. And just then, Parvati Patil stalked over to the refreshments table, looking quite cross, distracting the boys from their conversation.

Damien instantly snapped to attention, the way he did whenever a pretty girl crossed his path. "Can I get you some punch, Parvati?" he offered.

She smiled at him, looking a little less vexed, and replied, "Why, thank you, Damien. That would be very nice." He handed her a cup and she added, "You're very considerate. Unlike some other people I could mention." She glared at Dean Thomas, who seemed to be trying to cut in on Potter and Ginny Weasley. Potter looked nervous, but Ginny gave Dean what seemed to be a firm rebuke, and he sulkily retreated back to his table.

"What a fool Thomas is," Damien said scornfully, "not to notice that he already had the most beautiful girl in the school by his side!" Parvati beamed at him. "You're looking so lovely, tonight, Parvati. That dress suits you perfectly." And indeed, her robes of flame-colored satin nicely set off her dusky skin.

Parvati blushed and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You're too kind, Damien."

"I'm only speaking the truth," he said, practically oozing sincerity. Theodore was glaring at him, but he ignored it.

"Where's your date?" Parvati asked.

"Alas, I too, seem to have been abandoned," Damien replied in a tone of dramatic woe.

Parvati giggled. "Would you like to dance, then?"

"I would love to, milady."

"Are you crazy?" Theodore hissed into Damien's ear. "What will Malfoy say?"

"Malfoy's out canoodling with Pansy in the rose bushes," Damien replied with blithe unconcern. "He won't notice." He swept Parvati off onto the dance floor before Theodore could stop him.

"Idiot!" Theodore fumed. "Does he think word won't get back to Malfoy? I swear, it's like his brain shuts off whenever there's a pretty girl around!"

"That's typical of most boys our age," Blaise pointed out.

"A Slytherin needs to be smarter than that," Theodore growled.

"Maybe no one will notice," Blaise said hopefully. "Everyone's still staring at Snape and Blackmore."

"Maybe," Theodore said doubtfully.

When the current song ended, Snape disentangled himself from Blackmore as fast as he possibly could and stalked off into the garden.

"Uh-oh," Theodore said. "He's really in a bad mood now; he'll be blasting rose bushes apart like he did the last time. Maybe we should go warn Malfoy."

"Snape's not going to give Malfoy detention," Blaise said, unconcerned.

"I suppose not," Theodore agreed.

A few couples soon ran back into the Great Hall, looking pale and slightly disheveled; one of the girls had leaves in her hair. Draco and Pansy sauntered back in at a more casual pace, smiling; Blaise had obviously been right. Draco scowled when he saw Damien dancing with Parvati. "What the hell is Pierce doing?" he demanded.

Theodore shot Blaise an "I told you so" look. Blaise, thinking quickly, said, "Pissing off the Gryffindor boys by stealing the most popular girl in Gryffindor right from under their noses!" Draco blinked, looking startled and less angry, so Blaise hastily continued, "They're already upset that their girls like Dylan. They're going to be utterly humiliated when the whole school can see that the Gryffindor girls prefer Slytherin boys to their own housemates!"

Draco snickered maliciously. "Heh, that's true!" He saw the stunned and outraged looks on most of the Gryffindor boys' faces and looked even more pleased, to Blaise's relief. "Serves 'em right," Draco said. "But tell Pierce not to get too carried away. Dancing at the Ball is one thing, but it wouldn't be right for one of us to be going out with one of them."

"Yes, Draco," Blaise said meekly. Draco, his good mood restored, drank some punch and headed back onto the dance floor with Pansy.

"Good recovery," Theodore whispered. "I'm impressed."

Blaise smirked. "I told you Slytherin is the House for me."

Theodore smiled, although a hint of worry crept back into his eyes. "I guess you're too devious to be a Ravenclaw, after all." He glanced at Millicent, who still seemed to be happily occupied with Bletchley. "I think it's safe to sneak off now. I don't think Millicent will miss me."

"You should still say goodnight to her," Blaise insisted. "That would be the proper thing to do." Theodore rolled his eyes. "Just say you're not feeling well or something. Bletchley will think you're just being polite and ceding ground to him because he's a seventh-year."

"Slytherins aren't supposed to be polite," Theodore grumbled, although that wasn't quite true. They were polite, but only to the people that mattered, people in a position to do them favors--or cause them harm. Still, Theodore went off to make his excuses, and Blaise whispered that he'd meet him back at their room.

"Sorry, Millicent," he said. "I'm not feeling well; I think I'd better call it a night." He turned to Bletchley. "You'll look after her, won't you?"

"No problem, Nott," Bletchley said in a magnanimous tone.

"Goodnight, Theodore," Millicent said cheerfully, and the pair continued dancing without a backwards glance at Theodore, who shrugged and hurried off to meet Blaise.

"Hope you're not disappointed," Bletchley said.

"Not at all," Millicent replied. "Theodore's not interested in me, anyway."

"The more fool he," Bletchley said gallantly.

"I didn't know you had such a way with words, Miles!" Millicent laughed, and he grinned at her. Feeling more generous now that she had a much more satisfactory escort, Millicent added, "Well, everyone knows that Theodore's parents intend to match him up with Serafina one day, anyway."

"Poor Nott," Bletchley said, then dismissed the matter from his mind. He gazed out at the garden and said, "I wonder if Snape's still blasting apart rose bushes..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry was having a great time. He was much more relaxed around Ginny than he had been with Cho, and although he wasn't a good dancer, Ginny was, and kept him from looking too inept. She was able to direct him without being obvious about it, with a gentle push on his shoulder or tug on his hand, and he pretty much just followed her lead and tried to avoid stepping on her feet. They laughed and joked and talked, about nothing much in particular, about Quidditch and their classes and teachers. While the other students stared in shock as Blackmore dragged Snape onto the dance floor, Harry and Ginny laughed, sharing a conspiratorial look. But then his good mood was interrupted when Dean Thomas came up and said, "Mind if I cut in, Harry?"

Startled, Harry looked around for Parvati, and saw her stalking off in a huff. "Well...um...er..."

"Yes," said Ginny firmly, "he does mind."

"Well, I, uh..." Harry stammered.

"And I mind," Ginny added, just as firmly.

"Oh, come on, Ginny," Dean said. "Just one dance. Look, I'm sorry about before, about that stupid fight we had over Rosier--"

"If you want to apologize to me," Ginny said, not looking very forgiving, "do it later. You're being rude, to Harry and to Parvati. You should be dancing with your date, not me."

"I only asked her because Seamus suggested it, since he was taking Lavender," Dean said sulkily, "and I didn't have anyone else to go with. I'm not interested in her, if that's what you're thinking."

"First of all," Ginny said angrily, "Parvati already asked me if I would mind if she went to the Ball with you, and I told her it was fine with me." Dean looked surprised and a little offended to hear that. "Second, you're missing the point. It doesn't matter if you're interested in Parvati or not; you asked her to the Ball, so you should be paying attention to her instead of going off and asking other girls to dance with you." She danced Harry off in another direction, away from Dean, and Harry gave his friend a sympathetic look and helpless shrug. Dean didn't go after Parvati, but went back to his table and moped.

"I feel a little sorry for him," Harry ventured timidly.

"Don't," Ginny said. Then she sighed a little and said, "He's a nice guy, but he has a lot of growing up to do. I can't stand being with someone that possessive. I want to be with someone who trusts me and has faith in me. Someone who won't be threatened every time another guy smiles at me."

Harry smiled a little. "It's easy to be jealous of Dylan Rosier."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, Dylan's very handsome and charming, but he's a little too aware of it, if you know what I mean. I'd rather be with someone who's not quite so smooth."

For some reason, that statement cheered Harry up considerably, although he had never been particularly jealous of Dylan. Then, to his surprise, he saw Parvati step onto the dance floor with Damien Pierce. Harry heard a few mutters of outrage from some of the Gryffindor boys, but Ginny grinned and said, "Good for her! She's not going to sit in a corner and feel sorry for herself!" Harry was thinking that perhaps Parvati could cheer herself up with a boy who wasn't from Slytherin, but looked at Ginny's smiling face, and decided to keep that comment to himself. He knew it would only start an argument, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of the Ball. Then he grinned to himself, thinking, {Snape ought to be proud of me! I'm actually thinking before I act!}

Meanwhile, the Potions Master hurried off the dance floor as soon as the song was over, and stormed off into the garden, no doubt to vent his rage on some amorous students. Blackmore started back towards the head table, but Hagrid stopped her and asked for a dance; she smiled and consented. Bane watched them carefully from the head table, and although he had not objected when she had danced with Lupin or Snape, he seemed to take offense when Hagrid put his arm around the Incantations teacher's waist, and pull her just a little closer than was proper. Bane flew over and pecked Hagrid's hand sharply, hard enough to raise a drop of blood. Hagrid yelped and glared at the raven as he clutched at his wounded hand.

"Bad raven," Blackmore scolded, but there seemed to be a hint of amusement in her eyes and voice. Bane cawed in a defiant, unrepentant tone. "Sorry, Hagrid," Blackmore apologized. "Bane is a bit overprotective, sometimes."

"Here, why don't you come up to the hospital wing and I'll give you some salve for that?" Madam Pomfrey suggested.

"Never mind," Hagrid muttered gruffly. "I'm fine." But Pomfrey insisted, and he followed her out of the room.

Blackmore returned to the head table, and Harry overheard Damien Pierce snicker, "Serves him right!"

Harry glared at him, and Ginny said, "That's not very nice."

Damien just grinned at her. "I'm a Slytherin," he retorted. "I'm not supposed to be nice."

Parvati giggled. "Well, I think you're very nice!" she said.

"You'll ruin my reputation," Damien replied, and Parvati giggled again. "Well, maybe it wasn't very nice, but I think it's only his just dues, after all the times we've been bitten in his classes!" Damien and Parvati laughed, ignoring Harry's and Ginny's looks of disapproval, and continued dancing.

"Slytherins," Harry muttered.

"He's not so bad for a Slytherin," Ginny said. "Most of the time, anyway. And at least Parvati's having a good time after being abandoned." Harry wasn't sure he agreed, but decided not to argue the point, at least, not right now. And he felt a bit guilty about having abandoned Parvati himself during his first Yule Ball, although she had found a Beauxbatons boy to keep her entertained, and had not seemed to suffer overmuch.

"I suppose so," Harry said in a noncommittal voice, and Ginny smiled warmly at him.

"I know you don't care much for the Slytherins, Harry," she said, "but I'm glad that you're able to be mature about it." And suddenly Harry felt very glad that he'd managed to hold his tongue. He smiled back at her, and decided to forget about Slytherin for the rest of the evening and enjoy the rest of the Ball.

After several dances, they returned to their table to rest, along with Ron and Hermione. Luna Lovegood came up to their table; she was dressed in green robes that were surprisingly flattering (considering her normal unusual appearance), and she wore a wreath of holly on her head, and two small Christmas ornaments (one green glass ball and one red one) as earrings. "Hello," she said brightly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Luna," Hermione said with a smile, and the others greeted her politely as well. She was a little strange, but she had fought alongside them in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, after all.

"I was wondering," Luna said to Hermione, "if you would mind if I borrowed Ronald for one dance."

"Not at all," Hermione replied cheerfully. "Go right ahead."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "Isn't anyone going to ask MY permission?"

"Would you like to dance with me?" Luna asked.

Ron opened his mouth to say "no" but Hermione gave him a look that said he had better say "yes". Harry wondered if she had picked it up from Blackmore. Ron mumbled reluctant assent, and Luna happily dragged him off onto the dance floor.

Harry turned to Ginny. "I thought you said it was rude to abandon your date."

"This is different," Ginny retorted. "Hermione doesn't mind, and it won't kill him to dance with Luna just once."

"I don't mind," Hermione confirmed. "Luna doesn't have many friends, and she really likes Ron, so he ought to be nice to her. I think it's kind of cute that she has a crush on him."

"Does she?" Harry asked.

The girls rolled their eyes. "Don't you remember that lion hat she wore to the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match last year?" Ginny asked impatiently. "And how she wished Ron luck?"

"I also remember she said that she didn't like to dance," Harry said, watching her dance with enthusiasm if not much skill. Ron stepped on her feet a couple of times but she didn't seem to mind. The girls just giggled, and Harry sighed. Fortunately for Ron, Luna seemed content with the one dance, and returned him to the table, thanking Hermione with a very serious expression on her face.

After Luna left, Hermione smiled at him and said, "Thank you for being nice to Luna, Ron."

Ron, who had been about to complain, suddenly flushed a little and said, "Oh, uh, yeah. No problem."


After the Ball, Harry and Ron said goodnight to their dates in the common room. Harry found himself feeling very awkward as he mumbled, "Well, um, goodnight, Ginny. I, um, had fun tonight."

"Me too, Harry," Ginny said. "I had a really good time tonight. Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, kissed him on the cheek, and then hurried off into the girls' dorm.

Ron was too preoccupied to notice. "I'm sorry I stepped on your feet so many times," he apologized to Hermione.

"It's okay," she said cheerfully. "I still have some of that healing salve we made in Snape's class. A little of that, and they'll be good as new!"

"Yeah, well, I had a good time," Ron mumbled, staring at his feet.

"Me too," Hermione said. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?" Ron asked, looking up. He sounded startled but pleased. "You're welcome." He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, then turned bright red and hurried off to his room.

Harry and Hermione just stood there staring dumbly at each other for a moment, holding their cheeks, then retreated to their respective rooms.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

Next