Gwen gazed over at Graves in the early morning light. The way the sun's rays curled around the curve of his body. How his hair, still prickly short was nestled into the pillows. There was a soft smile turning up the edges of his mouth and she knew he was dreaming about her.

But she knew she couldn't be free and happy if he was still alive.

She knew very well that Harry Potter felt the same way.

The main difference between them was that Harry Potter wasn't completely capable of carrying through with it and Gwen knew that she could.

Whether or not she wanted to believe it completely, she knew that she had a power surging inside of her. This was part of her fey self, the part of the dark and sometimes very evil unsellie royal court teeming in her blood. She could raise a wand to his chest, speak her spell and kill him on the spot. But she didn't want to admit that to herself yet. She didn't want to realize her potential as the cold-blooded killer of her own grandfather. She didn't want to realize that he was her own grandfather and so she kept these thoughts bottled up and clearly labeled in a dusty corner of her mind.

Yet, at the same time she was formulating her plan to come once again face to face with him. She knew now where he was at this very moment and she knew how to get there, but she needed to think this through. The reckless and impatient Gwen of the past had learned her lesson in this instance and she wasn't going to run in with gun's smoking, cat-calling and making a general poor show of things. She was going to have a game plan at the very least and as of right now she was considering whether or not she needed help.

She figured she could take him single-handedly, but she felt that was some of the arrogance she had inherited from her mother. She also realized that asking someone along was knowingly putting them in a great deal of danger, perhaps more than she was prepared to accept the blame for along with the guilt. She frowned as Graves stirred quietly in his sleep.

She wasn't going to do this to him. She wasn't going to endanger his life again. She crawled out of bed, went through her morning toiletries and dressed quickly. She grabbed her outdoor cloak and secured her wand into the front pocket of her dark blue jeans. She cast one long look over Graves sleeping form and rushed over to give him one last impulsive kiss.

She walked away from Hogwarts that morning absurdly confidant and thoroughly jaded.

To be Continued in Episode One Hundred and Fifteen