• Good Intentions

  The next day everyone seemed to set out from their rooms with a plan in mind. Snape had concluded that the only thing he could do was to seek out Willow, preferably in private, and explain that he wished to withdraw his previous comments. *It's not an apology,* he thought to himself, *It's merely a suspension of judgement until all the facts have been ascertained.* It certainly sounded better than apologising. He wasn't looking forwards to it in the slightest, and was toying with the idea of missing breakfast, so the awkward conversation wouldn't have to take place in public. On the whole it seemed equivalent to debasing himself in front of the whole school, and the damage it would do to his reputation would be irreparable. It wasn't going to happen.
  
  Luna was equally determined to just get through the day without thinking of Blaise. This plan lasted about as long as breakfast, when she spotted him coming into the Great Hall, and her stomach instantly tightened up.
  
  Ginny, across the hall from Luna, had noticed Blaise walk in too. He had reached the Slytherin table and demanded a place by Draco when a plan occurred to Ginny. It was stupid and might well earn her a hex or two, but it was a plan. Blaise was friends with Draco. She was friends with Luna. If Luna told her everything that had happened, and how she was feeling, then maybe Blaise had confided in Draco.
  
  Ginny tucked her hair behind her ears, and stared across the hall at Draco, who managed to ignore her for a record breaking seven minutes before finally turning round and glaring back.
  
  *This is not a good idea, Ginny.*
  
  She smiled at him, and quickly went back to eating her food. Across the hall, at the Slytherin table Draco was feeling confused, and slightly offended. Gryffindors weren't meant to smile at Slytherins. Redheaded Gryffindor weasels were particularly not supposed to smile at Slytherin boys who, on a good day, could hex them seven ways from Sunday without breaking a sweat; it was practically a rule. Draco was sure he could find it written down in some obscure book in the library. Although possibly in the restricted section.
  
  He barely paid attention in class that morning. Maybe it had been more of a smirk that he'd seen. It wasn't like he'd looked at her for very long, he might have confused the expression on her face for one that had, well, that had a bit more distain in it. So then why was she smirking at him? Did the Golden Trio have plans for irritating him already this term? Draco didn't feel particularly alarmed by the idea that Potter and his pals were up to something, but he did wish they could have picked a better time to try and rile him. He had enough to be thinking about already, without having to come up with some brilliant and audacious plan for revenge. Not that it would take him long to come up with such a plan, of course, it wasn't just his God-like looks that earned him the title 'Prince of Slytherin'.
  
  Still, there was something definitely odd about the weasel girl; he'd have to keep an eye on her. He still didn't understand why she'd been smirking at him. Maybe she was just too stupid to realise she was giving the game away. He smiled smugly to himself, yes, that was probably it. Nonetheless, he'd have to try and glance at her again at lunchtime, just to see if there was anything else to be learned.
  
  When lunchtime finally came Draco didn't have long to wait. Before he could even get into the Great Hall, a small hand grabbed a fistful of his neatly pressed robes, something that no-one would usually be allowed to get away with, and dragged him inside an equally small room. Before the door closed, cutting out all light, he was able to make out two shelves on the wall opposite the door, with what looked like a few battered Transfiguration textbooks piled haphazardly on them.
  
  "Um," said a quiet, feminine voice.
  
  It took a moment for him to work out who the owner of the voice was, and a split second longer to realise that due to the confined space, pulling out his wand and hexing the living daylights out of her might just backfire on him. As it was she was trying desperately to find the door handle. He made a quick grab for her arm before she could open the door, and she winced at his tight grip.
  
  "Weaselette?"
  
  *Great idea Ginny,* she berated herself. *Really thought this one through didn't you?* She hadn't meant to pull Draco into a storage cupboard, she'd been aiming for an empty classroom, but apparently she'd miscounted the doors. As mistakes went it could potentially be both dangerous and humiliating, and when she realised what she'd done she wanted to leave as quickly as her plan had flown out of the window.
  
  As she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and tried to open the door again Draco grabbed both of her wrists and pushed her back against the wall of the cupboard, pinning her in place with his body weight to make sure she couldn't escape.
  
  *Oh Merlin, this isn't happening,* she thought to herself as she screwed her eyes shut, and tried to remember what Hermione had been saying about muggle defence techniques. Draco's fingers were digging painfully into her wrists, and she found that the most she could do was wriggle, and with his body pressed close up against her, she thought the best option would be to stay as still as possible, and get ready to scream if he tried anything else.
  
  "Are you crazy?" he whispered harshly, "I don't know how many people saw you drag me in here Weasley, but I can do without even more people seeing us leave a hall closet together!"
  
  "But," Ginny stammered, "I need to talk to you." She was quickly coming to the conclusion that as plans went, hers sucked.
  
  "What makes you think I want to talk to you?" Draco sneered.
  
  Ginny felt her herself starting to sweat, "Because it's about Blaise."
  
  In the darkness she couldn't tell whether his expression had changed, but she could feel him tense up, and continued, "About Blaise and Luna."
  
  "That's none of your business Weaselette," Draco snapped, "Was there anything else, or are you just wasting my time?"
  
  "I… ," she trailed off, her short-lived bravado quickly vanishing as Draco stonewalled her.
  
  "Or did you just want to spend some private time with me," he leered, pressing the full length of his body against her. He was taller than Ginny by several inches, and thanks to the muscle he'd put on in Quidditch training he easily outweighed her.
  
  A flash of panic surged through Ginny, and she took a deep breath ready to scream, but before she could get a noise out he clapped a hand over her mouth, "Calm down Weaselette, it's not like I'd sully myself by touching muggle-loving trash like you."
  
  He hadn't been expecting her to slap him. At first she'd been more concerned with getting some blood back into her hand as he let go of her wrist, but as his words hit home Ginny saw red, and took advantage of the freedom of movement he'd given her to lay a solid slap across his cheek. Before the echoes had died away in the small room she'd pressed home the advantage and, shoving him back into the opposite wall, had launched into a verbal assault.
  
  "I don't know what the hell I was thinking Malfoy," she hissed at him, "I certainly wasn't thinking that perhaps not all Slytherins are evil, slimy gits, Merlin knows why I thought Blaise might be unhappy! You've certainly cleared the whole thing up for me! Forget I said anything!"
  
  "So what if he's unhappy," Draco said icily. "It doesn't concern you Weasley, so keep your stupid freckled nose out of other people's business."
  
  He flung the door open, and pushed his way past her out of the cupboard, disturbed by the mention of Blaise. Had the littlest Weasley honestly dragged him into a storage closet to talk about Blaise Zabini?
  
  

  ---

  
  
  At the end of the day Willow was wearily making her way back to her rooms. It hadn't been an easy day and she had taught her first Slytherin / Gryffindor class. If the combination alone wasn't bad enough, she'd been dreading that class in particular because she was sure that the seventh year children were going to be the most vocal in their objections to her sudden arrival.
  
  From the moment she had walked into the room she realised that this wasn't going to be an easy class to win over. The Slytherins hated her and wanted her out of their house, and the Gryffindors hated her and wanted her out of their school. Things had gone downhill from there, with most of the students pointedly ignoring her efforts to be friendly, and none of them willing to speak unless asked a direct question.
  
  By the time she had reached her rooms that evening Willow had her mind firmly set on having a nice relaxing bath, possibly even with bubbles if she could make Pepper understand what she was asking for, and then curling up with a book. She didn't even want to venture out for dinner, and had already collected some food from the house elves in the kitchen.
  
  As she turned into the corridor containing the entrance to her rooms she noticed a figure lurking outside her painting, and recognised it, with a sinking feeling, as being Professor Snape.
  
  *Great. Just what I don't need right now, another dose of venom.* She grinned to herself, *Venom from the head snake, no less!*
  
  "Can I help you, Professor Snape?" she asked, with exaggerated politeness.
  
  Snape turned to face her, his internal monologue repeating the mantra, *Just say it, and leave. Say it and leave.* It was the last thing he actually wanted to be doing, seeing the firm set to Willow's mouth, and the friendliness that wasn't reflected by her body language. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, when she cut him off.
  
  "Or did you just want to insult me some more?"
  
  He supposed he deserved it. From the start he had made his feelings towards her more than evident, and now he was reaping what he had sown. Still, her brash manner irritated him and he drew his robes about him and glared down at her. It was unnerving that such a slip of a girl, who had to look up to meet his gaze, could stare him down with such a calculated coldness.
  
  "I wanted you to know that I take back my comments to you last night," he ground out from between gritted teeth. "They were unnecessary."
  
  There, he had said it. He turned abruptly on his heel and stormed off down the corridor, robes swirling. The encounter hadn't been pleasant, but at least now he could clear his conscience of one burden; the others being far more difficult to resolve. Saying sorry to a grave marker did little to alleviate guilt.
  
  Willow was left gaping down the corridor after him, mouth open and eyes wide. Was than an apology? Her ears told her that it was, or at least, the closest she could expect to an apology from the sour faced potions master.
  
  She entered her rooms in a daze, and sank down onto her couch to think, absent-mindedly petting the kitten that had trotted into the room to meet her. Why on earth would he have had such a change of heart about what he'd said to her? He had certainly seemed to mean what he was saying when he'd said it; what could have happened that day to make him change his opinions so drastically?
  
  She concluded, with a puzzled frown, that Severus Snape was a bit of a mystery.
  
  

  ---

  
  
  Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat in front of the fire place in the Gryffindor common room, talking about the first day back at Hogwarts. Of the two classes they'd had that day, both had been with Slytherin, although Lavender and Parvati had had Divination with Hufflepuff.
  
  "I'm glad that we've got classes with the other houses this year," said Hermione. "Did you notice we have History of Magic with Ravenclaw, and Ancient Runes with Hufflepuff?"
  
  "However those of us who aren't taking an insane number of classes still have to put up with Slytherin," Ron said wryly. "Honestly, I thought that Dumbledore would have figured out by now that any class that has Slytherins in it is going to be more like Defence Against the Dark Arts than anything else."
  
  The door to the common room suddenly swung open, interrupting his critique, and Ginny walked in. Her hair flew out behind her as she quickly walked through the common room, nodding a quick hello to the sixth year trio before heading for the stairs to the girls' dormitories, a pensive expression on her face.
  
  "Did you notice her coming back in last night?" Ron said, turning to Hermione as his sister's footsteps died away. "I don't like it when I don't know where she is, Merlin only knows who she might run into."
  
  "Don't you think you're being a little too… big brotherly, Ron?" Hermione tried to reason with him.
  
  "No! I'm the only brother she's got in Hogwarts now, and I damn well mean to look out for her. I can't do that if I don't know where she is!" He lowered his voice a bit as the other people in the Gryffindor common room turned round to look at him. "I'm not saying I don't want her to go anywhere without me, I just want to make sure she's okay. You understand that, don't you Harry?" he appealed to his best friend, while Hermione frowned at the rather tactless comment.
  
  "Yeah," Harry nodded slowly, "we could keep an eye on her I guess."
  
  "Yes! See Hermione, Harry agrees with me."
  
  Hermione sighed as Ron started to make plans with Harry to watch Ginny that evening and see if she left Gryffindor tower. Sometimes she thought that Ron had never heard of the word discretion before. Then again, knowing his stance on non-compulsory reading, he probably hadn't.
  
  

  ---

  
  
  When Ginny snuck through the common room that night she didn't realise that three pairs of eyes were watching her. Squashed together under Harry's invisibility cloak, the three children hardly dared to breathe as Ginny slipped past them, and out through the door. After waiting a moment they eased open the portrait of the fat lady and quietly begged her to tell them which way Ginny had gone.
  
  Ginny was making good her escape, and congratulating herself on getting out of Gryffindor tower without being spotted. She quietly scurried through the corridors that led to the room where Luna would be meeting her. The old castle seemed so quiet at night, a dramatic difference to the day time, when the old corridors buzzed with the laughter and movement of the children. Every few steps, Ginny would pause and look around her, sure that she could hear footsteps following her, but there was never anything to be seen.
  
  *If it was Snape, he wouldn't just be following me. He'd be shouting by now.* With this reassurance Ginny continued her night time wanderings and her pursuers, who had to keep stopping every time Ginny looked about her, continued to trail her.
  
  The closer Ginny got to the room she would be meeting Luna in, the surer she became that someone was following her. It wasn't a nice feeling, and it sent an icy chill down her back. Being alone in such dark and imposing corridors, with so many people staring down at her from paintings that she scarcely noticed during the day was scaring Ginny. Anyone could be following her. It could be a Slytherin. It could be her brother, and it was a testament to Ginny's feelings towards Ron that she hoped her tracker was a Slytherin. At least they wouldn't write home and tell her mother.
  
  Finally the feeling of being watched got too much for her, and Ginny crept very, very slowly towards the corner ahead of her, slunk round it and then started to run. Her feet were making more noise now, and she was praying to whatever gods would listen that Filch wouldn't be near enough to hear. As she dashed through the few corridors remaining between her and her destination she felt cold from the night air and yet nature's survival mechanism was kicking in, and she felt adrenaline flow through her, making her breathing come erratically and sending shivers down her arms and legs. If someone had managed to keep up with her long enough to touch her shoulder, she would have jumped out of her skin with fright.
  
  Casting one last glance over her shoulder she reached the classroom and careened in, just managing to resist the urge to slam the door shut. No-one seemed to be hot on her trail, and Luna was sitting comfortably in the teacher's chair, her feet up on the desk, and a confused expression on her face. Ginny swept her hair out of her eyes and quietly turned round and shut the door.
  
  Back in the corridor, Ron, Harry and Hermione were stuck. When Ginny had rounded the corner and started running they hadn't know whether to follow her or not. If they had run to keep up with her they would never have been able to stay hidden under the invisibility cloak, but if they had been careful and stayed hidden they wouldn't be able to keep up. In the end they spent long enough agonising over what to do that Ginny was well away.
  
  Ron pushed himself out from under the cloak in disgust.
  
  "Where the hell does she think she's going? She's meant to be in bed!" he shouted, and slammed his hand against the wall to emphasise his point.
  
  "Ron! Shush! We're meant to be in bed too!" Hermione whispered desperately, holding the cloak up with one hand, and trying to drag him back in with the other. The damage had already been done though, and Snape rounded the corner with a triumphant expression on his face.
  
  "Ah, Mr. Potter, might I ask what you are doing out of bed?" Snape asked in the silky tones of someone who knows he's finally got one over on a despised enemy.
  
  "Sir, we were…" began Hermione.
  
  "Is your name Potter?" Snape rounded on her. "I didn't think so."
  
  "He hasn't done anything!" Ron protested, drawing Snape's unforgiving wrath away from Harry for a second.
  
  "I don't want to hear your excuses, Weasley!" Snape said grimly. "Out of bed, after hours. Really you three ought to know better." The smirk on his face said he was glad they didn't. Harry was a continual thorn in Severus' side, from his father's bullying when Severus' had been in school to Potter suddenly becoming the saviour of the wizarding world, merely because he had not died while a baby.
  
  Severus Snape hated Harry Potter for living. He hated him for being famous for living because it had required no skill or talent. He hated him for living because Lily had died. He hated him for being the sweetheart of the wizarding world, while Snape himself was nobody. Snape could have died at Lord Voldemort's hand on several occasions, but he hadn't. He still risked his life on a regular basis to provide information for the Order of the Phoenix, but he wasn't praised for it. He would always be looked down on for being a slimy potions master, for being a Death Eater.
  
  Little things like this made it almost bearable.
  
  "One hundred points off…"
  
  "Ah, Severus, I see you are escorting the children to our meeting."
  
  Snape's mouth hung open, midway through taking points, and he stared at the headmaster in confusion. This couldn't be happening. The children were out of bed, after hours. The old man surely couldn't be making excuses for them. They were sneaking around under an invisibility cloak for pity's sake! He made a small and desperate mewling sound.
  
  The children looked equally shocked themselves. They had been bracing themselves for a major loss of house points, and no one had heard Dumbledore arriving. They knew they didn't have a meeting with him, so why was he out wandering the corridors, and claiming they were en route to see him?
  
  "Meeting?" Snape asked feebly.
  
  "Yes, yes!" Dumbledore assured him with a grin, "I asked the children to come and have a chat with me tonight. I'll take them from here, shall I?"
  
  Before waiting for Snape to respond, which could likely have taken all night, Dumbledore moved smoothly down the corridor with the three children in tow. Snape was left by himself in a dark corridor, with a rather horrible expression developing on his face. He had caught them, and then Dumbledore had to come to the rescue. It wasn't fair. He made a choking sound and stared at the portrait opposite him for a while, before walking stiffly back to his rooms, cursing the day Harry Potter joined Hogwarts.
  
  

  ---

  
  
  As the three Gryffindors entered Dumbledore's office they shared glances that were equal parts curiosity and nervousness. They had been out of bed after hours, and now they were facing the headmaster, and yet he didn't seem to be in the least bit angry with them.
  
  Dumbledore's office was well lit, even at that late hour, and more than a hundred candles burned in different places about the room. Some were in wall brackets, some in elaborate candelabras, and some merely floated a few inches off the ceiling, their smoke curling up in the corners, and drifting down to the windows.
  
  The headmaster had made himself comfortable in an overstuffed green armchair by the large wood fire that burned constantly in his office, and he gestured to the children to join him as three other chairs grew out of the floor in an arc around the fire.
  
  As they sat down, their confusion reached a peak, and Ron couldn't contain himself any longer.
  
  "What's happening, Sir?"
  
  Albus calmly looked at Ron, and answered, "You were out of bed after hours. Professor Snape was about to take house points."
  
  Hermione valiantly resisted the urge to put her hand up before speaking, "But you stopped him, Sir."
  
  "Yes, Hermione. I had rather wanted to talk to you three alone, and it seemed like as good an opportunity as any."
  
  "How'd he know we were there?" Ron whispered to Harry, who shrugged and looked at Dumbledore, who had an unmistakable twinkle in his eye.
  
  "Professor Willow Rosenberg," he announced, and looked at the three faces in front of him. Hermione was looking up curiously at him, whereas Ron was slumped backwards, looking off to one side and scowling. Albus would have his work cut out there, he was certain. Harry looked neither eager, nor disappointed, just politely interested in hearing what would be said.
  
  "I know you have not had many competent Dark Arts professors," Albus continued, "but I would like to ask you to all give Miss Rosenberg the benefit of the doubt. You all met her once, and seemed to get on before she was sorted into Slytherin."
  
  Ron snorted his objection.
  
  "Almost all of you got on well with her," Albus continued seamlessly, "and I would like to assure you that the fact that she has been sorted into Slytherin does not call her character into question. I am satisfied with her allegiances, and I would ask you to respect the fact that I know far more about this remarkable young woman than you do."
  
  "She tried to end the world!" Ron exploded, "Doesn't that say enough?"
  
  "Ron!" Hermione protested, but Dumbledore waved her into silence.
  
  "Do you know why she tried to end the world, as you so dramatically put it, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked patiently. "If you do not, then you do not know this woman."
  
  No one quite knew what to say to that.
  
  
  -: Chapter 9 -:- Chapter 11 :-
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