Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: Misconceptions

A/N: The edited version. I realized that I had uploaded the old chapter one, before I got editing suggestions from a friend. Thanks so much, tarabeara89, for your reviews!!! You have no idea how much they meant to meâ.

Um. Yeah. I don't own any of these characters _except _for Gwen, Celeste and George. Everybody else belongs to JK Rowling

Ch 1: Misconceptions

The last of a light morning breeze played through Ron's hair. Absentmindedly, he took a hand off the broom to run his fingers across the fiery strands—they were _much _longer than they had been at the beginning of the summer. _Damn, this is the life- light sun, no school- now, at least, since it starts tom-_

"Weasley! Look out, damn it!"

It was his slow reflexes that probably saved him from a concussion; he had just begun to turn when the Bludger hit him with full force on the side of the head.

"Bugger, man, that's why you'll never make the team," Oliver Wood shook his head. The former Quidditch captain had long since graduated from Hogwarts, but still returned home occasionally to visit home and—as the case were now, try to help hopeless cases like Ron with their flying. "You'll fly straight in- hey, that actually doesn't look too good. Maybe we should have my mum look at it."

_Doesn't look too good? _Ron scoffed as he began to lose control of the broom. _Yeah, it only_ feels_ like I have ten axes in my bloody head. Doesn't look good, indeed._

Oliver caught Ron with all the grace of an experienced flyer, and slowly the two began to land. Groggily, the near-unconscious boy opened his eyes. Oliver was leading him toward the Wood mansion, a place that seemed to get bigger every time he went there. _My whole bloody house could probably fit in the entry hall- and then some_, he thought, and then winced. _Damn, that hurts. _

"Mum?" Oliver called, helping Ron lie down on the couch. "Are you home?" Picking up his wand, he whispered "_Accio_." Lazily, a glass of water drifted into his hand. "Here, man, drink this. Bludgers ain't to nice."

_There you go with your optimism again, _Ron thought, as his vision began to blur. _Oh, hell._

The last thing he heard was Oliver's alarmed shout as he tumbled off the edge of the world.

_Snap._

_Snap._

_Snap._

Ron's mind became a detached, irregular series of noises. Was Oliver trying to wake him up, or had he finally gone mad? Perhaps he was in Saint Mungo's, then, or maybe he was at Hogwarts and summer was just a dream. Maybe Harry was trying to say wake up, you're going to miss Potions. Maybe he was dead and-

_Oh, stop your bloody complaining_. _You know it's just Oliver snapping in your face._

The voice of reason had piped up, and it sounded something awfully like Hermione.

_Snap._

Groaning, Ron opened his eyes. He definitely wasn't on the couch—this was much, much wider—and the ceiling of this room was infinitely shorter than that of the den. Hell, the walls were even a different color.

"Hey, beaut, you're awake. You took a bit of a tumble off the couch, so I just got you somewhere you'd be a bit less likely to have a repeat performance."

Ron slowly brought himself into a sitting position. Besides a vague throbbing on the side of his head, he felt much better.

"Hey, Wood, is that your family?" A series of wizard pictures waved at him frantically.

"Yeah. But, that's the boring side of the room. Take a look over at the right." Ron's eyes skipped over immediately to the right side of the room, and his jaw dropped.

"Damn, mate."

The right side of the room was—literally—filled with pictures of girls. Some, Ron realized, were obviously Muggle, as the pictures didn't move. But there was where the differences stopped. They were –every last one of them- _hot_.

"Wood, do you have an address book of their numbers or summat?" Ron asked, as he surveyed the room. He could sit here staring all day, he realized, as one caught his eye- and held it.

She was the leftmost, and obviously a wizard. In the picture Oliver picked the slender form up and swirled her around. She obviously was very comfortable in Wood's arms, Ron realized, as she tilted her head back and laughed. And- forget the other ones- when it came to committing, Wood had _real _taste in girls. This was the cream of the crop.

"Wood?"

"Yeah?" Oliver's head turned toward Ron, smiling. Obviously, the male hormones were acing up.

"Who's this one, on the left? I can see why this pictures a bit bigger than the others- I mean, look at her. Those lips- that body, man- _beg _to be snogged, Wood. I hope you've given alms a time or two, hmm?"

Wood coughed. "The- um- the one on the- _very- _left?" He asked, pointing.

"Yeah. She's _damn _fine." Ron smiled, his eye twinkling. Wood rolled his eyes. _If this is how he is when he just _sees _a hot girl, imagine what'll happen when he falls in love. _ "What's it like snogging her, then?"

"I'veâuhm" Wood blushed. "Well you see, Weasley, that's my cousin. That's why her picture's on the leftâshe's family."

"Oh." Now it was Ron's turn to blush; his skin turning a familiar red-- just a shade lighter than his hair. "Sorry, mate, I- uhm"

"No problem," Oliver laughed. "She's not related to me by blood, anyway. Celeste and George- my aunt and uncle, you've met them- they adopted her a while back."

Ron let out a half-sigh. "Uhm-"_Score one for you, Weasley. You've only made an ass of yourself twice in the hour that you've been –conscious- at Wood's house._ "How long was I out?"

"Not long. I couldn't really do anything, though. My mum's out shopping with my cousin- incidentally- the one in the portrait."

"Celeste and George?" Ron was confused. He'd definitely remembered meeting them sometime around third year, during the holidays, but didn't they- "But they lived in France then. When did they move?"

"_They _didn't," Oliver said. "But Gwen did."


	2. Chapter 2: Such a Sweet Girl

a/n won't let me skip lines, so any lines of random text are there for a reason. they serve as transitions, see?? yes?? good.

oh, and i don't own ron or any other characters (except Celeste, George, and Gwen). they're from the mind of JK Rowling...yadayada...

Ch 2: Such a sweet girl.

Gwen only half listened as Mrs. Wood excitedly took her to get fit for her new robes. Even though there were only first years here, she nearly blended in. _I'd throw away half the Galleons in my bank account to tower over _somebody, she thought, looking down.

Ever since Celeste- _mummy_- she corrected herself- ever since mummy had told her she'd be moving in with Oliver, the headaches had gotten worse, the nightmares more vivid. Of course, He couldn't just leave her alone, that was too much for Him. And now she had to attend a different school her last two years because –Mummy and Da—wanted to go dragon hunting. _I don't care if it's their bloody job. If they wanted me to go to Hogwarts, they should have put me there in the first bloody place._ And there was something He liked about Hogwarts, something that sent His- and subsequently, her own- pace racing. Something He wanted.

_Damn him if he's going to get it, too_.

"-dear?" The seamstress looked slightly irritated.

"Hmm?" Gwen's head whipped forward, the train of thought stopped.

"I said, can you turn a little to the left, dear?"

"Oh." Automatically, Gwen shifted her body weight.

Where had Sandra gone? Without moving, Gwen tried to scan the room. The seamstress chuckled.

"Your aunt's gone book shopping. Something about you otherwise wanting all the books in the shop. She thought it was best," She talked perfectly around the needles- something she probably had practice doing. "Kind of weird, transferring from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts, hmm? No worries, dear. You'll make friends aplenty. I remember- six years ago- fitting the first years. Your class is an interesting one." With a cluck of approval, she removed the pins. "Come back in half an hour, now." Waving, she ushered Gwen out of the shop. "Have some ice cream. Tell them who sent you."

'Interesting?' What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Sighing, Gwen turned in the direction of the bookshop. The seamstress had definitely been right about one thing, though. If Gwen had been allowed to do the book shopping- especially on her own- she would probably spend a sum uncharacteristic to her frugal self. There was just something about books- so deep, so inviting, like a pool on the hottest day of summer-

_Hello. _

Damn him! Gwen thought. Coming, here and now, of all places.

Really, now, you don't mean that, do you? I've sensed an inner docility, as well as COMMON SENSE, about you for a very long time. It's why I spared you in the first place. That, and the fact I can't allow the family line to whither away, can I? Are you really going to defy me?

"No," Gwen whispered, closing her eyes. This was how it always ended. He the victor, and she-

Whipped into submission.

BG:DJG:"DJFGS"F"X

"No way!" Ron stood up suddenly, forgetting completely about any injury to his head. "She's moved- and here- is she?"

"Yes, she's going to Hogwarts, and a sixth year at that. Don't force me to roll my eyes again," Wood drawled, finding himself compelled to do so anyway. "Good God, mate. With your excitement, you'd think –oh, I don't know- you'd actually MET her or something."

Sitting back down, Ron felt his pulse racing. Could he help it? Those eyes, that face, the obviously small frame- she seemed delicate in a way- made him react in a way that was embarrassing, he thought, not daring to look down at the main source or reaction. Bloody hell, and right in front of Oliver too...

Especially considering this was a picture, Ron realized, feeling the Hermione voice of reason creeping up on him again. Only a bloody picture.

"Hmm," Ron said, pretending sudden indifference. "Sorry, it's the coincidence. And, well, she IS hot, you have to admit that."

"Freely," Oliver said. "And I say this in the most brotherly sense, since I have grown up with her."

"Yeah, I know," Ron looked down. "Same way with me and Herm- oh, bloody hell!" His eyes shot open wide. "Is it past noon?"

"Almost one," Oliver looked at the hourglass.

Abruptly Ron left, leaving a surprised Oliver to his own ruminations--muttering something about Hermione, Gringotts, and being late past any chance of survival.

"I'll never get that kid," Oliver whispered, chuckling to himself.

JLFBesdnfhkdn,ksxIPERFIX

_Aunt Sandy, I'm tired._

"Aunt Sandy?" Gwen croaked. The words wanted to die, wanted to sink away in defense of her mind. But the lips would not stop.

"Hmm?" Sandy looked up from The Daily Prophet. The two women were traveling the London Underground, half an hour from the Wood home.

"I'm tired..."

_I think I'll take a nap._

"I think I'll take a nap." Somewhere inside Gwen simultaneously snorted and sighed, nearly disgusted at the lack of resistance but too weary to do anything about it.

_Very good. You're beginning to learn._

Part of her wanted to scream, to cry out. What the fuck are you doing? It whispered, squeaking the last of its life force out. You've resisted for so long...and when you give a moment, he takes eons. Stop this now.

The pain...a weaker voice cried. I cannot...I cannot...

"I cannot..." she whispered, sinking into oblivion. Immediately, the limp body leaned on Mrs. Wood, who shifted her shoulder and smiled.

"Such a sweet girl," she said aloud to nobody in particular


	3. Chapter 3: Just a dream

Ch 3: Just a dream.

"Sorry, Herm, really..." Ron nearly begged, chasing after the enraged witch.

Would he ever get girls? Hermione had bothered to wait until he'd come, then told him off in very unpleasant terms and run off. Hell, Ron would have stuck around fifteen minutes, decided he wasn't showing, and leave. But no, Herm had to get all complicated on him. Jesus fucking Christ...

"Herm," The taller boy caught her arm, forcing her to turn around. Ron was shocked at the relatively mild fire that kindled in her eyes. So she's not that angry, he thought, remembering the blaze that they could become. Just...really...annoyed.

"Ronald Weasley," she said, through clenched teeth. "I waited for precisely one hour and forty minutes by my watch. Have you any idea how fucking irritated with you I am?" Panting, she managed to untangle her arm from Ron's.

Ron, for his part, was shocked that the normally docile Hermione had cursed at all. Clearly there was something else going on, something that very clearly irritated her...

Helplessly he watched as Hermione gave a final tug and, with all the finesse of one experienced, gave the Ron the one-finger salute and left.

"Herm?"

JDfjdalhfkfh;adsfh (see my note on random text)

_"So glad you could make it."_

_Smirking, he took an extra step toward her. "Oh, that's right...I had to knock you out..." As if enjoying a private joke, he tilted his head and laughed. It reminded Gwen of a hyena, with all the recklessness and abandon of one who cares for nobody but himself, and no thoughts of tomorrow._

_That she saw even a small part of herself in the laugh disgusted her infinitely._

_"Come on, now, you should have at least the decency to pretend you like me after all the effort I went through to bring you here."_

_Gwen's breathing became ragged, coming in rapid bursts. He was closing the small distance between them in a time that made her more than uncomfortable._

_"You know what I want," he whispered, breathing his scent everywhere: her ears, her nose, and inexplicably, her mind. "Come to us. You struggle so much...why not make it so much easier? Why do you fight?"_

_"So much easier," she whispered to him, as if he could not already read her mind. "So much easier to go past all redemption, isn't it? So much easier to give into darkness."_

_Ignoring her sarcasm, he slowly nodded. Gwen knew she should stop firing at him, even verbally; his rages were unpredictable and intense. Though no fire flashed in his eyes- the same blaze that came into hers- it could at any moment._

_"You must realize, my darling, that the only reason I am so patient with you is that I need you. Were you someone else, I would have long since done away with such...resistance. Do not think it is anything emotional that binds me to you." As if to prove his point, he whispered a spell._

_"Cruciatus"_

_He wasn't even mad, she realized as she slumped toward the ground. He was just showing something, a demonstration of what he could do. Pain racked through every part of her body; she was being ripped apart from the inside._

_What was that awful noise? Someone was screaming, someone was ripping out the fiber of their voice with that volume. Gwen covered her ears, but it continued, unrelenting. Everything else was drowned out; the whip on her back, the knives on her legs, the thousand voices that threatened her sanity. She was left alone, awfully alone, without him or anything else. It filled the room, never hinting to waver, to die out. Her body protested, her ears gave their own scream. The Cruciatus lessened and went away, but the scream continued._

_Would it ever end?_

_As the pain lessened, her mind returned above the chaos of the noise. He was there, he was offering comfort. Slowly, like a father, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms. She wanted to tell him to make it stop, that she would relent only if it went away. Her mouth would not form the words. It was open, ripping itself apart._

_She was the one screaming._

_Even with this realization, she could not stop. It continued, and he continued to cradle her patiently. He was whispering comforting words, she realized, whispering words of comfort. She closed her eyes and listened._

_The scream died down into whimpers, which subsided into silence. Her voice was no more, the candle of resistance had burnt itself into eternity. Though he may never have her heart, she realized, he had her mind in his palm._

_His very palm._

"Gwenaëlle Anjali Wood!"

Gwen's eyes snapped open. She'd only heard her full name—especially in that tone—when she was in trouble. But what had she done? She had only been sleeping...a look of fear flashed across her eyes. How much had she said while dreaming? Had her aunt known that she had lost to-

"Thank goodness," Sandra's voice showed only relief. "Darling, you were screaming! I nearly had to apparate in front of a subway full of Muggles..." Chuckling at the mere thought, Mrs. Wood absentmindedly stroked her niece's hair. "You were having such a bad dream, and I just had to wake you up-"

Just a dream? Was it really, Aunt? Her mind traveled, involuntarily, to the dream. The pain.

The giving in.

"-is ready. Would you join us?"

"What?" Gwen snapped back into reality.

Mrs. Wood smiled. "Just come to dinner whenever you're ready, hon." Kissing Gwen's forehead, she left the room.

To leave Gwen with her dreams.


	4. Chapter 4: Attitude

Ch. 4: Attitude

Ron stared out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. Hermione hadn't said a single word to him- not one- in the entire time they'd been on the train, despite the fact that he had been apologizing to her up and down. Never mind the fact that I'd been unconscious, he thought wryly. Eventually, he had given up and commenced his current activity: being bored out of his mind.

"Ron?" Harry brushed a single strand off the scar- the scar that had always caught his eye. Instantly Ron's head snapped- Ow- that was a mistake- to face his best friend.

"Shame about Mione, innit?" Harry whispered. "What the hell did you do to make her so pissed?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" Ron screamed, leaving behind a bewildered Harry.

Ron knew he'd been harsh with Harry; honestly, he couldn't help it. Was it his fault that Hermione was such a fucking stress case? Clutching his bag even tighter, he felt color coming into his face. A long time ago- long time ago- they'd had a stint, well, together. Full-frontal snogging, the works. She'd been willing to-his face flushed deeper. Well, it was over now; they'd decided they were better as friends and they'd been having a hard time keeping it from Harry anyway.

And then there was Vicky besides, Vicky who Herm could never quite stop talking about…Bastard had been the nail in the damn coffin.

Sighing, Ron found himself in an empty compartment- well, nearly empty, there was someone sleeping on the bench opposite him. Tentatively, Ron walked up to him- or her, the sleeping form was turned and completely covered- and clapped.

Nothing.

He shrugged. Well, in that case, they wouldn't wake up while he was getting dressed. Opening his bag, he threw off the Muggle shirt he'd been wearing.

Not noticing that the sleeping figure, in fact, was stirring.

Was that somebody clapping behind her?

Gwen stayed perfectly still. It was probably her imagination anyway, she thought; she didn't know anybody at this school- especially not well enough for them to try to wake her up. The train hadn't stopped, anyway.

Yes, it must be her imagination.

Or not, another voice whispered as the unmistakable sound of sneezing filled the room.

Slowly, she removed the cover and turned. The result, at the least, was pleasing to her eyes. Damn, she thought. That's a fine specimen of man-flesh.

He had a full head of bright red hair, cut awkwardly (probably by his mother, she thought with a snicker) but- just so. At parts the silky strands fell to his shoulders- his shirtless shoulders. The back was finely toned as well as-she blushed- lower parts of his body. The legs were skinny but had just enough muscle so not to be gangly. His face- as he turned-

As he turned!

She would have given anything for an invisibility cloak just then.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Harry asked, staring into Hermione's eyes. "Because even after what you told me- don't get me wrong, he deserved to be reprimanded- but honestly, Herm, he was unconscious! And you've –never-"

"Said fuck?" Hermione asked. "Or done this?" She shakily raised a hand, with only one finger raised. "Which part were you talking about, hmm?" Her very stance seemed to threaten Harry, but her quavering lips told a different story.

"Herm?" Harry asked, suddenly aware of her vulnerability. Possibilities dawned before him- each more unlikely than the last.

And then it hit him with a sickening intensity.

"Viktor-he-?" He asked, placing an arm around her shoulder. To his surprise, she did not turn away. Burying her face in his chest, she desperately tried not to cry, tried to salvage the shards of her dignity.

But Harry was stroking her hair, whispering to her, like Vicky had-

Suddenly, her resolve was broken; the dam that had held back her emotions for nearly a month broke with a shuddering quickness.

"He said he loved me," she choked, between tears. "But all of a sudden, it was I like you so much, darling. And- and then That's why I like you, Herm. But- and- he said It's over, Hermione. There can't be anything more between us…he didn't want to keep me, nobody does or will…didn't want to keep me…"

"Bastard didn't know what love is," Harry found himself saying. "Wasn't even worthy of you in the first place, darling, and you knew that. He must have been the worst…worst manslime ever…" Harry heard a small laugh ripple beneath his chest. "To have let something as precious as you go…" He found his coherence slipping, felt her breathing regulate and slow.

She had fallen asleep in his lap.

"I'd keep you," Harry whispered. "If you'll let me."


	5. Chapter 5: Oh

Ch. 5: Oh…

"Oh…"

But for that word, Ron was speechless. Here he was, painfully aware of his near-nakedness (and the effect that she was producing in the only covered part of his body). Here was Oliver's cousin; not only in the flesh but also staring wide-eyed at his body. Damn, was she better in person.

For several moments they were both speechless; she not quite daring to look at the ever-increasing bulge in Ron's boxers and Ron too red to say anything. The silence in the compartment was nearly deafening.

The door slid open. "And what would we-Oh," Danae, the new vendor, stood drinking in the scene in front of her. "I, uhm, hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Ron let out a muffled noise. This was all he really needed to make his week. As if Hermione telling him off hadn't been enough, Gwen's first impression of him would forever involve his boxers –and not in a good way, either- and the snack lady now officially thought she had stumbled upon a snog session. I only wish, thought Ron, turning redder.

"I'll, uhm, go then?" Danae asked. Ron nodded.

"Wait," Gwen's voice was like a song. "Two bags of Chocolate frogs, please." Drawing out six knuts, she placed them in the hand of the abashed vendor. "Have a nice day."

Danae muttered that sounded vaguely like thank you and disappeared.

The second she left Ron burst out laughing, nearly forgetting he was in his boxers. "Did you see the look on her face? God, she must really have thought we were hot and heavy."

When he heard her laugh in a reply, he felt a not-so-vague weakness in his knees. It was like- like some romantic fluff that you read about in old Muggle novels, he realized, so classic and pure.

"I'm Gwen Wood, by the way." She shot out her hand.

"I know," Ron nearly whispered. "I mean," he got louder "I'm a friend of Oliver's. I recognized you from the picture on his wall." He took her hand, shaking it firmly. Add pompous ass to her description of you.

Her hand was warm and inviting, and he was almost reluctant to let it go. It was so soft, he thought. On a whim, he brought it up to his mouth, shaking, and gave it a light kiss.

"Lady Wood, it is of the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last. Ron Weasley." He bowed, deeper than he ever had.

She giggled. "Sir Weasley, the pleasure is all mine." It was only when she curtsied, with all the grace of a real lady (Despite the Chocolate Frogs) that he noticed that she, too, was red.

"Right," Ron said, looking at the floor. Shit, I'm still in my boxers, he realized with growing horror. "I-ahem- Milady, it appears that I am not adequately attired. Would my Ladyship pardon me for but a moment, I could…"

"Ron," she giggled again. "It's not as if I could possibly see any more, but if it would make you more comfortable I could turn around."

With a small degree of reluctance-where the hell did that come from?-he reached for his robes.

Looking up, he realized that she had, indeed turned around.

Damn.

Where did that come from? Gwen thought. He's only putting on his robes-

Yeah, and covering up abs he probably worked on all summer…

You couldn't stop staring at them even though I expressly told you to. Are we forgetting Norman?

And since when is the voice of reason boss?

Since forever-Norman- hey, turn around!

Reluctantly Gwen turned on her heel, suddenly aware of how her new Hogwarts robes fit- that is, a lot more flatteringly than her Beauxbatons ones had. Looking down, she realized that they rode her curves, emphasizing certain aspects…

This was going to be an interesting year.

What about Norman?

What about Him?

Suddenly, her mind tugged back to the "dream". Interesting wouldn't even begin to describe if He visited her as often as he had of late. Sadness washed over her, overwhelming her temporary happiness –and lust, a voice interjected- and she sat down. He ruined everything, took everything alive and smothered it, turned everything ripe rotten-

"You know, you can look up now."

His voice was like a Lumos in the darkest of caves, a rainbow brightly shining despite the rain. Smiling, she looked up at him teasingly, staring straight into his eyes.

"Oh…" It was a perfect imitation of him in every facet, even the look in her eyes seemed to betray a deep embarrassment.

"Shut up!" Ron giggled, and patted the area-immediately- next to him. "Sit down, now." When she sat in the middle seat, he shook his head. "No, closer. I don't bite." Nodding his head, he looked down. She could almost read his mind, confirmed as she herself looked in that area. Damn, no- Hell, is this embarrassing.

"You know," she dared to sit just a tad closer, "A small girl like myself has no hope of finishing all these Chocolate frogs by myself. Wouldst my knight take on this daunting task and save this damsel in distress?"

"For thou, My lady, no task is too daunting," Ron smiled, almost in a relieved way. Gwen could tell instinctively by the way his robes fit he was not in the best of financial situations –and, judging by the fact he hadn't asked her for any, that he had a sense of pride as well. She gave herself a rare pat on the back- she had showed tact and perception.

Five points, Wood.

That was something so Norman that she almost doubled the distance between herself and Weasley. Ron, however, seemed not to notice as the train slowed.

"We're there," he said with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6: Sorting

Ch. 6: Sorting

Hermione awoke sufficiently calmer than she had fallen asleep. More importantly, someone was there- good grief, she was in his lap- still stroking her hair, calming her.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry looked down, a deep concern showing in his eyes.

And something else.

There were a hundred things to say in that moment, a hundred paths and possibilities she could take. How could she possibly have been this stupid? All these years, and right under her own nose too…what a cliché, she realized. My best friend is in love with me, and I've been thick enough not to notice it.

Say something, something good, a voice urged. Anything.

"Uhm- have we stopped?"

Stupid git.

OhmyGodohmyGoddoyoujustfuckingrealizehespeaksfuckingShakespeareanddudewouldyoulookatthosefuckingabsyoucan'tevenstopcussingaboutthem

Damn.

Gwen's thoughts were going faster than her mind; (what a contradiction, a dry voice drawled) . But it was true. Everything.

"Miss Wood?"

"Hermione!" Ron ran to catch up with Hermione, who was snuggled carefully in Harry's arms. "Herm, I'm-"

Instantly Hermione whirled around, catching Ron in something almost comparable to Hagrid's hugs.

"-Sorry?" he wheezed as soon as he caught his breath.

"No-mmfm-Ron-hmm-I'm-mff-sorry-mff-mffmmm-I was-mffm-such a-mffm-bitch. How can I-hmmf-make it up t-mffm-you?" She spoke in staccato, kissing Ron's cheeks in between nearly every other word.

"Damn, Harry, I'm going to have to read your book," Ron said, snaking an arm protectively around Herm's waist. This was right, he realized, this role. Friend and champion, not enemy. Brother, not…

Not romantic interest.

But hey- the thought came on its own- that can be someone else's job. A certain someone.

"I heard we have a new student this year," Harry coughed, eyeing Ron's arm with something that mirrored contempt. "Sixth year, like us. Wonder what house she'll be in—maybe we should hurry to the, uhm, Grand Hall, we don't want to miss it and the first years have already been sorted-"

"Are you jealous?" Hermione asked, reading Harry's face as easily as Ron had. "Come here, Harry. There's room for ten of you." Blushing, Harry copied Ron's movement.

Shit! Ron thought, seeing the raw emotion in his face. Shitshitshit!

Harry was in love with Hermione.

"Miss Wood?"

Gwen's head turned nearly full circle. The Headmaster- what was his name? Dummeldore? - was motioning her to the stool.

A sudden queasiness found itself in her stomach. Why the nervousness? She thought. It's just a hat. Not a custom you're overly familiar with, but still…

"-Miss Gwenaëlle Wood joins us from Beauxbatons. Yes," he motioned for quiet as quiet murmurs spread across the tables. "She is a relation of a certain recently-graduated Quidditch captain, although I am certain that soon you will all know her for herself and not him. I should hope that whatever house she is Sorted into will welcome her with open arms."

And if it's Ron's, I hope a great deal more than that.

Gwen's eyes opened wide. Where had that come from?

Maybe it's the abs, the voice continued. Or the hair, or the laugh or the smile or-

SHUT UP!

To her surprise, the voice complied.

"Miss Wood, if you would be so kind…"

The hat slid right over her ears, encasing the entire world in darkness and silence. It wasn't either soft or hard but-

The word is pliant.

The voice was so much like His that she nearly started. Visibly, her pulse increased. Please, don't let me black out here, don't let Him come-

I'm not Him, whoever He is, although I could be if you wanted it that way. Though I doubt it would help…It paused, waiting for a reply. You're a hard one, I'll give you that. Not Hufflepuff, that'd never do. Ravenclaw? You have the brains, but…no, it doesn't work…

Ron's house?

Ron's house? Oh, the Weasley boy. He's in Gryffindor. I could see you there, yes, but…let's see your blood.

It stopped cold; Gwen could nearly envision it doing a double take.

Gods, that blood…

"SLYTH-"

The cheer from the right table stopped short, dying as soon as it had begun. All around, however, the whispers had started again. The Hat had never, ever stopped midsentence. A look of wry amusement played across Albus Dumbledore's face. Why, wasn't this an interesting turn of events. A little alarming that he hadn't seen it coming before, of course, but interesting all the same.

"Gryffindor,"

The Hat shuddered and fell to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7: Like any other

Chapter 7: Like any other.

Whatever temporary confusion there had been over the Hat's stumble had long been forgotten in the cheers of the Gryffindor table.

"Welcome to Gryffindor!" Ron shook her hand, resisting the-large-temptation to pick her up and swirl her, like Oliver had. "This is Herm, she's like a sister to me," he emphasized sister as he pointed to the bushy-haired girl to his left. "And Harry, my best mate." Harry pushed the glasses up to the bridge of his nose and waved.

"Your name is Gwenaëlle, right?" Harry asked. "Mind if we call you Gwen?"

"I order it," Gwen laughed. "I'm not quite sure what my parents were thinking."

"Probably too engrossed in how beautiful their baby girl was," Ron muttered, chuckling. Gwen flushed a deep scarlet. The four sat in a small silence and ate, listening to the clatter of cutlery around them.

"Uhm-Gwen," Hermione asked around her potatoes. "What classes are you taking this year?"

"Besides the usual? At Beauxbatons I was going to take Advanced Ancient Runes and-oh, what was it-" Gwen took a sip of her Butterbeer. "Independent Astrology study, I think it was."

Even Gwen did not miss the glazed-over look in Hermione's eyes. Here was a student that could rival her! Suprisingly, she did not feel envy but contentment. There had never really been anybody that could even bother to- to try- to challenge her, and now the Beauxbatons girl could.

"Seventh year courses," Hermione whispered. "Good for you! I've always needed another brain around here," she glared at Harry and Ron. "And a motivated person at that."

"Now see here," Ron tapped Gwen's shoulder. "Don't let Hermione convert you into brain-ism. Before you know it, you'll be studying until past midnight trying to understand some potions concept that would puzzle Snape."

"Snape?" Gwen asked uneasily. "Your potions master?"

"Unfortunately," Harry breathed. "Heard of him?"

"Just know about the family," she shook her head. "I heard they had somebody over in England, but they never told me he was a professor here."

"You'd never want to cross a Snape," Hermione dropped her voice low. "They're dark wizards, every last one of them. For all we know, our Potions master is still a Death Eater."

"Every last one of them, hmm?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

"A skeptic?" Ron laughed. "My girl, soon you won't be."

"Excited about our first day of school?"

She stared at Him blankly. There was no point, she thought. Why talk when He can read your mind just as easily?

"But it's so fun hearing a desperate voice. Surely," He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Surely you wouldn't deprive me of that."

"If you want to hear a desperate voice, look elsewhere." Her tone was uneven, as if she were on the verge of a tears.

Or a nervous breakdown.

"There, there, honey." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

The feeling of a thousand daggers plunged through her chest would be nothing compared to this, she thought. Please crucify me. Have horses drag me through a path of nails and let me live long enough to scream for the ages.

But do not have him touch me.

"You know, that can be arranged."

Damn him! Damn him to the deepest level of hell!

"There, now. I have a job for you."

She could not listen, would not listen…

but she did.

The morning dawned clear, the antithesis of Gwen's mind. Couldn't it at least be a cloudy day? She thought, scowling. Or does the world spurn me?

"So you're an early riser! By the looks of things, you've been up for a while…"

Hermione's voice broke the spell. Everything was going to be all right, a hundred voices said. Listen to Hermione.

"Yeah." Gwen turned to face her unwitting savior. "Actually, I'm a night person too. I think I might be slightly allergic to sleep." She giggled. "When do classes start?"

"We should be heading down to breakfast now," Absentmindedly, Hermione began to play with a strand of hair. "By the way, Hogwarts robes really flatter your figure. If you're on the lookout-?"

Gwen forced a laugh. No, not really, she thought. Nobody here that I'd wish that fate on. All things equal I'd say I'd found someone already, Hermione, even if I did have the mindset.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," she said instead, rushing down with the taller, bushy haired girl to breakfast like any other fifteen-year-old girl would.

Like any other fifteen-year-old girl.

"What do you think of the new girl?" Hermione took a sip of orange juice.

Both reactions were interesting. Harry was taking this opportunity to stare at her, and Ron had flushed a deep magenta. Ah, the voice of logic purred. That first reaction told her more than any response-which had the potential of a lie or half truth- would.

"All right," Harry murmured, reluctantly looking back to his cereal. "At least she's not quiet. Those types are eerie."

"Yeah," Ron breathed. "Creepy."

"Barely ate anything though," Hermione drove the conversation on. It was obviously making both boys uncomfortable (for different reasons, she doubted any conversation she would have with Harry would be less than awkward).

"'S why Oliver can carry her," Ron began to scrape the last of his waffles of his plate.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Jus'-hold on-Jus' saw a picture at his house. He's picking her up-" Had he ever been redder? Hermione reddened. Ron was nearly green.

"Ron stuttering about a girl," Harry shook his head. "Below par, Weasley." It was a perfect imitation of Snape.

Ron didn't notice.

He was in his own world, one where he carried Gwen and didn't stop there.

By any means.


	8. Chapter 8: Norman

Chapter 8: Norman

Why did everyone hate the Potions Master? Gwen thought.

It was ten minutes before classes begun, and the only pupils here was herself and a blond Slytherin in the corner. Instinctively Gwen felt a kinship with him; he had the aura of someone struggling to keep up an image of something he-very clearly-wasn't.

"Pity about the last minute decision, hmm?"

She turned to face him again. He'd known that she was watching her and had mistaken it for a looking-over. At first the tone seemed arrogant, but his eyes suggested something else altogether. Weariness.

Lust.

Shit, I don't need this, she thought. Weakly, she smiled.

"That hasn't happened before, has it?"

"No. You must be special. Draco Malfoy," He walked over and extended his hand. "And Gwenaëlle, if I'm not mistaken?" His pronunciation of her name was the most flawless she'd heard since leaving France.

"Gwen," The smile was a little more genuine this time as she shook the strong hands.

"Still, the Hat obviously thought you worthy of Slytherin. Sit with me?"

Before she nodded he'd picked her books up and carried them to the other side of the room.

"M'lady?" He grinned as he extended an elbow. "Thou speakest the tongue of the Bard, fair one?"

Shakespeare.

Inwardly, she sighed. Why was it that nobody at Beauxbatons spoke like this, but the first two guys to talk- no, flirt- knew instantly what made her knees wobble?

Instantly, her opinion of Draco increased tenfold.

"Aye, my lord."

Of course Ron Weasley walked in just as she took his arm.

Ron's eyes widened. Vixen, he thought, only half-joking. Flirting a storm with me yesterday and arm-in-arm with a mortal enemy the next.

It took all of his self control to pretend not to notice. As the students began to trickle in (just before class began; nobody wanted to stay in Snape's classroom any longer than was humanly possible), Ron chose a seat, motioning to Harry and Hermione.

That's interesting, Ron thought. It's only the first class of the day, and the seat is warm. Did Gwen-?

"Class." Snape's voice, as always, was dismissive and monotonous as he took roll, then stopped at Gwen's name.

"Miss Wood?"

"Yes, sir?" Her voice made Ron melt. Life isn't fair, he thought, allowing himself a glance at the Slytherin side of the room. Not fucking fair.

"Combien de Wolfsbane devez-vous prota vous-m' contre les mal actions de l'Ali mille?" Snape speaks French? Ron, as well as half the class, was looking at the Professor dumfoundedly.

"Aucun, monsieur, Wolfsbane n'augmente seulement l'effet."

"Pour quoi est-ce que je pourrais utiliser les pales moulus d'un noir me suis lev?"

"Un breuvage magique d'amour, professeur, ou peut- ne une mal action obligatoire."

"Very good, Miss Wood, I see you do not need today's lesson. And, as you are in obvious need of a tour around the castle-?"

For once he ignored Malfoy's hand as it shot up. Nor did he call on Ron, who for the first time was enthusiastically raising his hand in Snape's class.

"Miss Granger, you have often made it obvious that you do not need my lessons. Please give Miss Wood a tour for the entire period. You may take your things. Miss Wood-?"

"Professor?"

"Je vous sugge montre dehors pour M. Malfoy et M. Weasley. Il est out ait dent qu'ils veuillent entrer dans votre pantalon. Juste un avertissement. Ah ! Et aussi, venez par mon bureau aprole J'ai quelque chose discuter avec vous."

"Je me rappellerai les deux choses, professeur. Merci!"

Ron's heart sank as she left the room.

"Who knew Snape spoke French?" Hermione giggled as they left the room. "Remind me to thank you, by the way, it's the first time he's excused me from lessons."

"Thank me." Gwen ran a hand through her hair. "Where do we begin?"

"Right here. As you can see, this is the dungeons area- somewhere you wouldn't want to be- and rather close to the Slytherin quarters."

"Hmm," Hermione could see Gwen was only half-listening. "I won't bother you with the tour information, just take you through the grounds. Oh- and could I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." She can imitate an American cowboy accent rather well. Hermione grinned.

"What the hell was Snape saying?"

"Oh, um-" Gwen blushed. "He asked me a few potions questions, and told me to avoid Ron and Draco."

"Oh?" At least she's honest, Hermione thought. If she knew me well, she'd know about the summers in France. Does anybody go to a country yearly and not learn the language?

"Yeah. So are these bathrooms?" Gwen pointed down the hall, obviously flustered.

If I wasn't a witch, I would SO be a psychiatrist.

"Hey, Ron!" Hermione called cheerily as she entered the common room.

"Herm," Harry pushed the glasses up from the bridge of his nose, blushing. "Ron's in his room. Sulking, if I'm not mistaken."

"Right." As she passed him she ruffled his hair, something she knew he liked. You are the moron of the universe, she thought. If you don't know how I feel about you.

"Oi!" He called after her as she waltzed toward the boy's dorms.

Hermione bounded up the stairs by twos. "Ronniekins!" she knocked on the door. "It's Herm."

"Yeah, come in."

Harry was right. Ron's very tone indicated that the arrow was pointed directly at "Sulk".

"So I toured Gwen during Potions," She sat on the soft bed. "Wanna hear about it?"

"I don't care." He buried his face in the pillow, trying for all the world to show neutrality.

And failing miserably.

"Well, she's adopted actually," Ron didn't bother telling her he already knew this. "And you probably know her family already, so I won't tell you about that. But-something you didn't- she knows Fleur's little sister, Adrienne. They're best friends. Her boyfriend, Norman-"

"Boyfriend?" Ron sat up. That fucking bitch. First Malfoy, now this…

"Yeah, he's a Prefect there, a seventh year. She was a prefect too-Ron, are you all right?"

"Fine. Herm, I just realized that I'd forgotten completely about a Charms essay. So…another time, maybe?"

"Maybe." There was no Charms essay. We had a reading passage! Ron, you're such a bad liar…

Oh, Herm, just let it slide. The take-it-easy-voice (which always sounded suspiciously like Ron) spoke up.

_And for now, it won._


	9. Chapter 9: By Invitation only

Chapter 9: By Invitation only

**A/N: WARNING WARNING WARNING! DANGER WILL ROBINSON! We have a squicky bit. This chapter isn't essential to the plot, so you can skip ahead if you're offended by threesomes.**

"-but you are to wait until I tell you. Do you understand?"

"Yup. Sure."

He ruffled her hair. It took all of her self control, all of her might, not to scream.

"That's my girl. So, what did the little fuck-up want?" She'd never heard this much contempt, this much malice directed at any one person in His voice before.

"Who?"

"You know. The potions master, the bastard traitor. Snape."

"He just wanted to get to know me. Where I was born, who my family was. That sort of stuff."

"He knows, you know."

"It did occur to me." Forty minutes already and he hasn't gotten mad at me, she mused. A new record. Suprising, but not as suprising as the fact that I have a functioning watch in my dreams.

"They're not dreams." His voice had a hint of weariness in it. "I told you, they're closer to visions. You could will away that watch if you wanted; there's some degree of control in this realm. And no," How did he detect the excitement in her eyes so quickly? "You cannot will me away, because I am an integral part. If you tried, I would know. And the repercussions would be serious."

His eyes were suddenly dark, angry, as if she had already tried.

There goes the record.

I'm following a girl down a corridor, Ron thought. It's two fucking thirty in the morning and I'm following a girl down a corridor.

And even though this is a dream, you have a functioning watch. Interesting.

He almost missed the girl as she turned another corner, and he picked up the pace. A thousand questions racked through his mind. Who was this girl, for one? And why was he following her?

As if to answer his question, she turned around.

It was Gwen, not in Hogwarts robes but a- he gulped; revealing wasn't quite sufficient- dress. The black train at the end seemed to blend into the night.

Like her. He could already feel the almost-familiar reaction to her steadily increasing at a pace he wasn't familiar with.

"Go away, Ron!" She giggled. "This party is by invitation only." Before even checking he had left, she continued walking.

Before long, she arrived at a long door- the entrance to the dungeons. She knocked, the sound of her knuckles resounding against the corridor loud enough to be heard in Hogsmeade.

"M'lady?" Malfoy extended an arm to her, as he had in Potions class.

"M'lord," She grinned, sliding into Malfoy's arms. "Professor."

The sick feeling in his stomach that had begun at the sight of Malfoy's face multiplied as a half-clad (it was the wrong half, Ron thought, nearly vomiting) Professor Snape emerged.

"Not fair," she pouted. "You started without me."

"We got bored." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You took too fucking long."

"I had Weasley trailing me," She whispered, eyeing Snape hungrily. "Besides, I'm here, aren't I?"

"And that's all that matters. Professor, allow me to do the honors?" Malfoy moved closer to Gwen—too close—and, gently turning her, began to unhook the back of her dress. Ron's mouth began to water at the sight of the slowly emerging flesh. Please, he thought. Please, let me wake up. Please…

"Too long," Snape yawned. "It's cruel to whet my appetite and then take an eternity to give me the main course." With a lazy flick of his wand, Gwen's dress disappeared.

"Right then," Malfoy grinned. "Where were we?"

He lowered Gwen into a kneeling position.

"Stay," he chided, grinning as he lowered his pants. "Professor, come."

Both obeyed him to the letter. Ron groaned as her lips parted to receive a part of Malfoy quite separate from his tongue, at first tasting and then consuming whole.

Snape, for his part, continued where he had left off; thrusting into the entrance of a pupil. Malfoy groaned as Snape spilled inside of him, rocking Gwen's head with the rhythm.

Was it over? Ron wondered. God, let it be over.

To his horror, it was far from that.

As if in a play, the three moved to take positions. Lifting Gwen so she straddled his hips, Snape moved forward so her back was to the wall.

Malfoy was the first to move. Hungrily parting her lips, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, exploring her body with hands. Gwen let out a small gasp as both Malfoy twisted her nipples and Snape entered her, grabbing her buttocks and moving her in a swaying motion. The result was a rhythm, a sickening overture Ron was forced to watch.

Gwen's lips moved to Snape as Malfoy's mouth explored elsewhere, sucking her neck and breasts as if they were sustenance. Each moan that escaped her mouth was a scream to Ron, a death sentence to her character.

"I fucking LOVE Potions," Gwen moaned. "C'est magnifique."


	10. Chapter 10: Awakening

Chapter 10: Awakening

Ron awoke with a pit in his stomach; this was deeper than a mere stomachache. In fact- he winced- he doubted it had been this bad since he'd been inflicted with Ali's thousand curses, which was just a fancy wizarding word for "really, really, really, bad diarrhea".

"Harry?" he called weakly into the corridor. A shirtless Harry emerged, ducking his head into the door. (godwhatifhesbeenhavingthreesomeswithHermandMcGonagallthefuckingGryffindorequivalentofmydream)

"Yeah?" he asked, innocent of Ron's torture.

"Uhm- Were ten trolls in here last night beating the shit out of me?"

"I don't think so," a bewildered Harry pushed on his glasses. "Why do you ask?"

"Never mind," Ron groaned. "I'm going to miss classes today, I think. If you need me, I'll be in the Hospital Wing."

"Need help?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned for his friend.

"Nah, I'll be alright,"

I fucking hate this, he thought as the world went black.

Despite the fact that she was sitting with the-very, very- tempting Draco Malfoy, Gwen couldn't help but notice that Ron wasn't attending any classes. It was kind of hard not to notice, she mused, as our schedules are nearly the same. It couldn't even be attributed to cutting; he hadn't been at breakfast-or lunch- either.

"Harry?" she asked as the sixth years left Snape's room, feeling instantly the ten-degree increase in temperature. "Where's Ron?"

"He's in the hospital wing. Why do you ask?" It was easy for even Harry to notice the change in her; although her facial expression was perfectly controlled, her eyes were crestfallen.

"Stomachache." Hermione jogged briskly to catch up. "Fainted in his own room. Just as he was saying 'Nah, I'm fine…' Stupid git, and it's just like him, too."

"Just curious, it's all. What's our next class?"

"School's out for the day, space cadet." Harry laughed. "Don't tell me you missed the entire day."

"Oh." Just distracted by Ron's absence, is all. "I'm feeling a little sick, actually. Something going around, maybe?"

"You should see Madam Pomfrey, then." Hermione conjured a map. "If you promise you won't faint on us, Harry and I should really be getting along to our Transfiguration project." Taking Harry's hand, she hurried her best friend along the hall. "Hope you feel better!"

"Transfiguration on the second day of school. Blech," Harry blushed at the touch of Hermione. She was holding his fucking hand. If only.

If only…

Somebody was holding his hand, Ron thought vaguely as he came to. Bless you, Hermione.

"Shh, it's all right. Keep your eyes closed." Although her voice was familiar, he couldn't put a label on it.

"Hermione, it hurts so bad…" he moaned. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

"Because you're sick, love."

"Not sick," he muttered, turning over.

"Hmm?"

"I'm not sick. I had a dream."

The raised eyebrow was audible. "Dream?"

"Gwen, the new girl-" He blushed. Was he actually going to say this to Hermione? She was one of his best friends, but…

"Ooh la la," she teased. "Did we have ourselves an erotic adventure?"

Ron nearly sat up. Don't get fired up, you stupid git, you can barely open your damn eyes. "Yes, but not-not with me. Herm, she had a fucking threesome with Snape and Malfoy. God, was it sick. I wanted to leave…she was such a slut, is such a slut. God, how could I have thought she was hot? All the time she was flirting with me, she has a boyfriend. Dirty Slytherin whore…"

"You think she would actually do that, Ron?"

Fuck.

That wasn't Hermione's voice, he realized as the world came sharply into focus. It wasn't anything like her voice. It sounded more like…like Gwen's.

He opened his eyes. Shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"Shh," Gwen whispered, stroking his forehead. "It's all right."

A threesome?

Luckily, Ron had fallen asleep (against his free will, of course, that's what came of studying Charms) in time not to notice the fierce blush across her face. How had he known about Norman? Had she really been flirting…?

I think the time has come, my dear, to set yourself straight. Reason glared at her. You've been with Norman for the better part of year; He doesn't mind (only because Norman's immature and without personality, thought a cynical voice), at least for now…

But this Ron Weasley fellow is quite a different deal altogether. If you-

NO! came the scream. No ifs, damn it! You love Norman and that's it. No, nothing.

I don't love Norman, she retorted. I had a crush on him.

Had?

She was taken aback. Had? A few months ago, those would have never, ever thought in the past tense about her feelings. A few months ago, she'd toyed with trying to kiss him, toyed with saying "Norm? I love you." Toyed with falling in love.

You're of His stock, though, came the whisper. Incapable of love, don't you know it. You don't even love your parents, much less your boyfriend. May have at one point, when you were small, but His blood's thicker than any other. And so are your screams.

Some-small-part of her knew that eventually, she would make Him angry, so angry that he'd kill Norman. Or maybe He'd kill Norman for, as he said, "shits and giggles. Hell, I was bored," as He said with her pets when she'd had them. "Don't pout, it doesn't become you. You're of my stock, darling; it's a cardinal rule not to get attached."

Not to get attached.

Even if you don't have feelings for him, her lip was trembling now, you liked him- still do- as a friend. He's a sweet boy. Don't get attached, it's too dangerous for him.

Inexplicably then, she fell asleep, her arm still draped over Ron's chest. You know what you have to do…


	11. Chapter 11: To the Butterbeers

Chapter 11: To the Butterbeers

"Miss Wood?" Minerva McGonagall wove through the sea of excited students in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't often that the first weekend of school was a Hogsmeade weekend but, well, that was Albus Dumbledore for you. Never predictable, that Albus.

"Professor?" She looked down. So bloody short, she thought, I almost mistook her for a first year. Smart, cute little thing though.

"I notice your Hogsmeade permission form was not in the records," Minerva pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I would suggest-"

"Here it is, Professor. Thank you for reminding me," As it had been the last few days, her voice was flat and unemotional. She bores me, thought McGonagall. And she seemed so full of personality those few days.

"Gwen?" She asked, genuinely concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Fabulous, Professor." Gwen said, in a way that suggested it was anything but.

"Right then," McGonagall coughed, continuing to search for errant permission forms.

The air was so sharp that Gwen nearly gasped.

"I know. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Malfoy had, inexplicably, snuck up behind her. "I'faith, m'lady! The ice queen be not as cold as thee. Wouldst this knight offer thee his warmth, I verily hope thou would take it." Extending his cloak, he draped it over her shoulders elegantly. "Come now, tell me not that a beauty such as thee is without escort?"

Before she knew what was happening, her arm was entwined with his.

"M'lord, thy escorts be…disconcerting to this lass," It was true, she thought. Crabbe and Goyle give me…the Crabbes and Goyles should be an expression for extreme discomfort. Still, she regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Her…and Malfoy…alone. There were infinite possibilities and, while several of them included snogging, making out with Malfoy was not on her agenda.

"A thousand apologies, lady fair," Malfoy walked even closer to her-if that were possible-ushering the "escorts", so euphemistically put, away. "And through this alley-"

Shit! The snog alert went off in her mind.

"-is where the best butterbeers in all of England can be found."

Thank God?

"My lord, be there appropriate facilities for relieving thyself?" She shook herself out of his arms.

"Verily so, lady-" He showed her to the bathrooms. Breathing hard, she slammed the door. Calm yourself, calm yourself…

She Apparated on to the roof, closed her eyes and whispered a spell.

Norman appeared on the balcony next to her, eyebrows raised and a ton of paperwork in hand.

**A/N: I know this conversation, and in fact all of Gwen's thoughts, would be in French. As I'm a Spanish student, however, and this story is intended for ENGLISH readers, I kind of, you know, adapted…Oh, and for curious readers, this did happen to me. Pity Gwen more than you would not knowing that, for you know not how guilty she felt.**

"Hello," he blushed in that-what she used to think of cute-way of his.

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

You've rehearsed this. You've gone over it more than a million times in your head and then some. You wrote a script, you git. Just say it, like you're acting. Like nothing is real.

But it is!

"It's very nice to see you," He started. "England agrees with your complexion."

Imbreakingupwithyou

I'mbreakingup withyou

I'm…breaking…up…with…you.

"Eh-uhm?" She leaned against the terrace. "Ehm-ehm."

The greatest irony of this all was this was how she'd told him that she had a crush on him.

"I don't know, uhm…Oh, shit. I had something to say but now I can't and I don't have the words," She was nearly stumbling over herself. "I don't know how to say this…"

He was silent.

"Uhm…?"

"It's over, isn't it?" He sighed. Color was slowly coming into the pale face.

"Yes," Somehow, she'd been holding her breath, and she exhaled.

"I kind of guessed, you know, with the "oh" and the "uhm". You're only inarticulate when something important is about to happen. Although I hoped for a minute that you were going to kiss me. Didn't you have a bet with someone that you'd kiss me by October, or something like that?"

"No?" Well, no is kind of exaggerating, but it wasn't exactly that, no… "Listen, I'm sorry…" Even to her it sounded pathetic. Boy, was this going well.

"Eh," he shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I have to go back to my friends. We were sitting by a lake and all of a sudden I kind of disappeared. If I don't come back soon..?"

"Yes, of course," she whispered, watching him Apparate.

Malfoy, uncharacteristically, waited outside of the bathrooms patiently. Like any other girl, Gwen was taking half a century to use the loo.

If it were any other girl, he smirked, I'd be long gone by now, snogging with Parkinson in some corner.

So why aren't you?

Originally, he'd only paid any attention to the bird because Weasley had been paying undue attention to her at the welcome feast, or whatever they'd call it. He'd thought it would be fun to do a bit of flirting- and hey, who knows, maybe more? - With someone that his archenemy was obviously fawning over. And it wasn't as if she was unpleasant to look at. In fact, he admitted to himself, it wasn't a bad specimen, as Gryffindors went. Not even as Slytherins went, really…

She emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly distracted. Amidst his rumination, Malfoy hadn't even noticed the loud cracks of Apparation. Even if he had, he wouldn't have guessed their source.

"Shall we?" He asked, emphasizing the we. If she had any-any-snogging experience, she'd know what he was implying.

"To the Butterbeers," she muttered. Never been kissed, an inner sigh settled inside. Never fucking been kissed.

"To the Butterbeers!" he forced a smile. For now, we can settle with Parkinson. The longer you wait, my boy, the sweeter it will be when the opportunity comes.

And come it will.


	12. Chapter 12: Points to Trelawney

Chapter 12: Points to Trelawney

"I am over her," Ron declared joyfully, slamming his books on to the library desk. Harry and Hermione looked up curiously. "Love at first sight? Bah…"

"Who, pray tell?" Hermione's face was the epitome of amusement.

"Gwen, of course. Who else?" He pulled out a chair. He's never seemed so happy to be doing his homework, Harry thought.

"Since when do you LOVE Gwen in the first place?" she giggled. "Something we missed, if you've fallen out."

"I-oh." Blushing a fiery red, Ron collected his things and sprinted out of the library, leaving as quickly as he had come.

Of all the stupid things, Ronald, WHY?!??!?!? The voice ridiculed him, seeming extremely reluctant to even be a part of him right now. You told them that you loved Gwen? I didn't know that!

Yeah, well, I put my friends before my brain. Explains my marks, doesn't it?

You're avoiding the subject.

Sod OFF.

That seemed to shut the inner monologue (for now, at least, he knew that he'd get hell for-

"To be quite honest, I'm flattered-"

"That's a yes, then. Very good!"

"Well, I didn't exactly say-" Gwen's head turned in Ron's direction. "Hullo, Ron," she mumbled, her face turning a bright red.

"Gwen," he nearly growled. To think that bitch thought she had the-right-and the gall to talk to him made Ron madder than hell.

"Darling," Malfoy slid an arm around her shoulder. "There are some of us that we would not associate with. And as you can see, Weasel is a clear specimen of such…social unequals." Sneering, he began to turn her away.

"Wait, Draco," Her eyes bore into Ron's. "Did you have anything to say?"

"Not for a Slytherin whore. Hey," he spat on the ground as he left. "Points to Trelawney for helping me predict the future."

Were she an iota weaker, she would have burst into tears.

If Gwen were just an iota weaker, she'd be in tears, Malfoy realized. I've got to hand it to her, the bird's got courage.

A friendly little reminder? She's your girlfriend now.

Right…

And this fucktard just said that about her. You know, normally at least, when something of this sort happens something ELSE happens.

He wasn't sure how his fist collided with Weasley's nose, nor why, but it did.

"Two hours detention, in three week's time, in the trophy room." McGonagall seemed bored. "And an answer."

"Professor?" Malfoy cocked his head to the side.

"He wants to know why we got in the fight in the first bloody place," Ron sighed. "Or are you too stupid to notice that?"

"That answers that," she muttered. "Together, then."

"Professor, I hardly think that's-" Draco stepped forward.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am perfectly aware of your concerns. However I would remind you that it is I who am in charge of such punishments. Until such time as this is not true, it is recommendable that you do not object," She resisted a strong urge to crack a smile. Besides, it'll be interesting to see what happens. Poor Gwen... "A repeat performance will result in suspension for the both of you."

Whoop-de- doo, Ron thought. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

"You missed a spot," Malfoy's tone lacked its usual smirk at two in the morning. "You and I know Filch'll give us both hell for something insignificant like that."

Initially, all Ron wanted to do was smack him again; after all, who was he to be telling Ron what to do or not? But…

But a) he had missed a spot, right there under some long-dead wizard's nose and b) Malfoy was right. If killing students for minor offenses was legal, Hogwarts would have to have its own cemetery for victims of Filch alone.

"Are you quiet because you hate me, or because I'm right?"

"Both," Ron turned to face the blonde Slytherin. "I did miss this spot here, but it'll never come off…" Wrinkling his own nose, he scrubbed harder at the immortal blemish. "Wish we could use magic."

"No point."

"Eh?" Ron could hardly believe that he and Malfoy could be having an insult-free conversation, much less a civil one.

"I said, there's no point." He spoke louder. "One or two spells, and you're done. Can you believe with all we are ahead of the Muggle world, we still use their punishments?"

"Could be worse. I hear Muggle teachers have you write sentences over and over again…"

"Like our History teacher?" Malfoy's smile was, for once, genuine. Without malice. "Takes all I have just to stay awake in that class, much less learn anything."

"I don't bother." Ron had stopped cleaning. "Just have Hermione take notes for me."

"Can you imagine having Crabbe and Goyle take my notes?" Malfoy chuckled. "They probably don't even know how to write, the gits."

"And these are your best friends?"

"Sadly, yes." Malfoy's sigh, although full of sarcasm, was weary and frustrated. "Hang on to me like two bloody puppy dogs. If they weren't pureblood and rich as hell, I'd have them removed from my sight."

"The truth comes out!" Ron giggled. "Not all Slytherins are perfect after all."

"You kidding? Most of the guys are thicker than a subthaline-sum-baryne? Some Muggle device, whatever it is. They're thick. And the girls aren't much better, to tell you the truth. Every last one of them whores or liars. Those rare few that aren't so stupid that you can't stand them are craftier than hell, and you have to watch out for them."

"Which is why you find girls from different classes," Ron's voice fell. "Like Gwen."

"You fancy her, mate?" The question seemed natural.

"Don't know her all that well, bu-"

"Yeah, you do."

"Well, do you?" Ron instantly felt tired and let down, as if he'd just lost a Quiddich match. "Silly question. You asked her out."

"At first it was just to spite you, actually." Malfoy was not sure what response this would bring. "I mean, here was this good-looking bird you obviously fancied, and here was an opportunity-"

"I don't fancy her, mate."

"Ron, you're a worse thick-headed git than even I imagined you to be if you honestly believed that…mate."


	13. Chapter 13: Showtime

Chapter 13: Showtime.

"It's showtime," He picked at his nails, yawning. "You're still up to the task?"

"Of course I am." The response was no automatic it nearly scared her. Had there ever been a time of such little resistance?

"It's because you've finally accepted it," He said, smirking.

"Accepted what?"

"You're beyond redemption."

In that moment He faded away. A thousand small voices began to chip at her soul.

Beyondredemptionbeyondredemptionbeyondredemptionbeyondredemptionbeyondredemption…

The fire was beginning to weaken, Hermione noticed idly. Somebody should be tending it.

The fireplaces at Hogwarts are magically tended...Instantly she remembered a passage from Hogwarts: A History. Only a severe shock to the school's inner magic workings would prevent them from going once it is cold enough. When it becomes warm, the fires do not die but dissappear altogether.

Fires at Hogwarts did not die, nor did they weaken.

Only a severe shock.

Bolting out of her seat, she ran to the window. Though it was only October, a chill frost was making its way across the grounds. The Quidditch field is nearly frozen over, the voice continued. And the sky…

Was getting grayer by the moment.

"Herm?" Harry's eyes were deep with concern.

"Something's not right," Hermione muttered between clenched teeth. "Harry, I hate to ask this. Is your…is it acting up?"

At that very instant a bolt of pain flashed through Harry's body; this time, the scar did not centralize the feeling but every fiber screamed.

The last thing Harry saw was Gwen entering the common room, screaming to Hermione to help her get him to the Hospital Wi-

"Isn't all that bad, detention." Ron whistled as he exited the common room. "Thanks, Draco."

At first Draco was taken aback. Had he ever heard Ron call him by his first name, much less accompanied with thanks?

"Anytime, mate."

They were on the verge of hugging when Gwen ran into the trophy room screaming bloody murder.

"The Dark Lord is here," She managed to keep her tone even. "Run."

Deatheaters swarmed the school, uttering death spells in guttural, base cries. Professors, standing futilely to protect their students, were the first to fall. Confusion and utter panic filled the halls, the chaos spreading across campus.

There were few loyal in Slytherin to Voldemort; even so, those who did overpowered the confused students. Few, if any, knew Unforgivables in the lower grades, and most did not have a chance to use them.

One by one, they all fell.

One by one, the shadow fell over the school.

As Voldemort tore apart the world around him, Harry sat in Madame Pomfrey's largest hospital bed, the curtains drawn around him.

"This is how it ends, I think," Hermione whispered, taking her best friend's hand. "Our story, our world, our lives. Did you imagine it this way, Harry?"

"No," Harry said, wincing as another explosion racked the grounds. "Yes."

"I'd always had something different in mind," Hermione gave a weak smile. "Something cheesy like…dying old in a cottage by the sea or something, holding hands with somebody I loved."

"Sounds peaceful enough," Harry coughed. "I wish Ron was here."

Shouts of 'Avada Kevadra' could be heard from down the hall. Students, he wondered, or death eaters?

"I'd imagined it with you." Hermione's voice was uneven. "In the cottage, I mean. Holding my hand."

"Oh? Not Ron, say, or Ginny?"

"Not that kind of love, dimwit." Hermione smiled. "Passion and fire love."

"Is that your roundabout way of saying-?" Harry blushed to rival Ron's hair.

"Yes," Hermione gave him a peck on the cheek. "Very deductive, Mr. Potter. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

"Twenty points away," Harry frowned.

"For what, may I ask?" Hermione stifled a giggle. The world is ending around you, and you giggle.

"Ms. Granger, you've never been accused of doing slipshod work before, but this," he firmly pressed his lips against hers. "Is how you kiss a man, not your silly little imitation."

It might have turned into a snogfest, despite everything else, had the door not opened.

"Is everyone inside?" Ron asked, looking over the heads. Gwen, Ginny, Harry, Herm, Draco and himself.

The last survivors of Hogwarts, for all they knew.

Draco helped him bolt the door to the Infirmary, carefully stepping over the body of Madame Pomfrey. Why, why damn it, did everything have to be this way? Why did it come down to the six of them dying as so many had already had, as so many would?

Why?

"The windows," Gwen kept her voice at a monotone. She's in shock, Draco thought. How I'd like to comfort you.

But you are not mine to comfort.


	14. Chapter 14: BEYOND REDEMPTION

Chapter 14: Beyond Redemption

It was only a matter of time before He emerged.

Gwen sat, semi-comfortably, in one of Madame Pomfrey's visiting chairs. The world has truly gone to hell, then, she thought. To hell with it all.

You cannot win, if you fight.

Why fight, then?

Beyondredemptionbeyondredemption…

The voices screamed louder, more insistently. Don't fight! Don't fight! All of Gwen's voices, so fond of arguing, had one sentiment. For Merlin's sake, reverse everything while you can.

If he has no shell, he has no return.

No shell, no return.

Redemption?

Ron was the first to notice Gwen had her wand pointed toward her own body, muttering beneath her breath.

"This is my redemption," She whispered, her eyes glazed over. "My only hope of it. Only hope…"

As he ran toward her, her stomach began to convulse. Gwen's eyes rolled into themselves, and her hand shook in time to the explosions.

Bloody hell, has Elvis left the building, Hermione thought as she saw Ron speeding toward Gwen as fast as he could, too slow. Has Elvis ever left the building…

In that moment Gwen herself completely disappeared. Her wand, so ready for the inevitable Avada Kevadra, clattered to the floor. Her body…

Shit.

Where Gwen had lain, the Dark Lord was. Perfectly still, he was as a corpse.

"Avada Kedavra!" Came the shouts of six wands, disregarding the fact the shots were aimed at what was once Gwen. "Avada Kedavra!"

His eyes shot open. Smiling, he got to his feet and dusted off the robes he wore.

"Bloody infirmary," He sneered, outdistancing Malfoy by about a hundred times. "So dirty. Never liked it myself."

"Avada Kedavra!" Ginny shouted, driven by hatred and memory.

As the green shot of light hit and bounced off harmlessly, he began to laugh.

"You're killing her," he said. "Not doing me a bit of harm, no, but Gwen…despite my protection, she's dying pretty fast. Pity, I thought having my blood would make some difference."

"She's…related to you?" Harry squeaked. "Gwen Wood? That would mean Oliver was-"

"Not Gwen Wood," Voldemort seemed irritated. "Gwen Riddle, whose parents were unfortunately murdered some time ago. Even Ron had known that, for Merlin's sake."

"Dumbledore said that you were the last heir of Slytherin!" Hermione was nearly whining. "You're lying, you're ly-"

"Shut-the-fuck-up," He threw a Silencing spell at her. "Dumbledore doesn't know anything, the prat. The dead prat, I might add. And do you know who did it? Not yours truly, no, but my little niece."

"An Avadra Kedavra wouldn't ever kill our Headmaster!" Ginny's voice was high pitched.

"Yes, we tried." Voldemort rested on the bed. "Oh well. It seems that he has every protection known to wizards. Funny, however, how effective a simple knife is."

"You possessed her," Ron stepped toward him. "You fucking possessed her, you bastard."

"No," he smiled. "Just told her what to do. She's a rather good listener, you know."

Tsk, tsk, tsk, Voldemort thought as the Avadra Kedavras hit him.

I'm listening to His thoughts, she thought as a rack of pain worse than any Crucios had. Bloody hell, I can think logically. That's a surprise.

Isn't that AMAZING? He was gleeful. Should we finish them off quickly or leave them squirming?

I'm not going to answer that.

Afraid of getting involved? It is a little late for that now, you know. You're quite the little murderess by now, pet.

I-

Yes, you are. A soon-to-be-dead murderess, though, judging by the spells being thrown at you. Funny, I've never seen anybody live this long.

Is it some sadistic contest? She asked him, fuming. No longer caring if he cared.

I'm dying, anyway, and I don't think he can torture me once that happens.

I hope.

"She's a traitor," Harry muttered to himself. "A traitor."

"We have no choice," Hermione joined him. "Dumbledore's been killed."

Ginny nodded. "It's not her. He's killed her already, can't you see that? She's nowhere to be seen."

"You'd kill her?" Voldemort chuckled. "You hear that, Gwen? They know more death spells will finish you off, and they don't care!"

"Gwen's not there, you bastard!" Malfoy screamed, rushing toward the Dark Lord.

"Avada Kedavra," He drawled lazily, not even bothering to aim his wand at Draco.

His face froze, forever stopped in this instant as the flash of green hit him. Wordlessly he dropped to the ground, involuntarily writhing.

Surprise, surprise. He too is taking too long to die. Should I kill him?

No, it's more fun this way, he responded without waiting for her answer.

"You know, you're getting repetitive."

He and Gwen both were shocked. Had she just issued a statement coming from His mouth? For the first time Harry had seen Voldemort, a look of pure terror flashed across his face.

"I don't care anymore, you bastard, I don't care. You think you are superior because you can scream two words and cause death. But anybody can do that. You have no friends, just people who are afraid of you."

Gwen, the voice was choking. I will kill you.

"Fuck…you…"

In that moment, she concentrated all her willpower, all of her spirit into one fine focus. All her memories, all her hate, all her suffering at His hands were brought into this moment. She felt her soul cry,

A green light shone from him, and then they were separate.

Gwen took only a moment to acclimate to her dizziness before turning on him.

"Avada Kedavra!" She screamed at him, pointing her wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

She didn't stop when he finally fell to the ground, nor did she stop when he died. They pried her off him in the end, still whispering the death spell in his direction.


	15. Epilogue: Hold me

Epilogue: Hold me

They stood at the edge of Malfoy manor, watching as the flames slowly wrapped the sheet.

If I'd been told I'd be crying at Draco's funeral, Harry thought, wrapping his arms harder around Hermione, I'd have committed them to St. Mungos.

But here we are…

"Undoubtedly we all had our…misgivings about Draco," Ron's voice quivered. "And it was only in the end that the barriers of his past and upbringing were defeated. He was raised to be the next Dark Lord…and yet it was his death, his sacrifice in the end that helped to defeat the last of evil. That," he glanced at Gwen. "And someone who finally was able to bring out his humanity."

"I always…was a snarky…bastard…" his breath came in gasps. "But…you showed me that…there were beautiful things…in the world. I…never had much faith…in life…before. But now…"

"You should relax," Gwen's eyes were frantic. "Quiet."

"You…really think I'm going to make…it?" He tried to laugh, the painful instinct rippling through his chest.

"Of course I do," I want you to, she thought. You have to. You've sacrificed too much.

"That's you…" he coughed. "That's why… you're beautiful…" His hand softly brushed her cheek. "Not untouched…but…enduring. Pure."

Hermione was crying softly into Harry's chest. It wasn't meant to be like this. There was enough loss here, enough mourning to come. Not after Draco had changed to this degree, he couldn't, she thought, whispered, breathed.

In response Harry could only hold her tighter. There was no way to comfort her, anybody at this point. He could only hope his touch was enough…

"Draco…" she whispered. "Do it for me."

"Merlin," he closed his eyes. "You know… I want to… But I-"

"Look, Malfoy," Ron tried to growl, remembering how he used to feel about the Slytherin. "Can't you see she loves you? It'd be too much to die now. So you can't. You'd take away her whole world."

"Sorry, Weasel." A thin smile played across his face, which passed quickly. "Gwen..."

"Yes?" It was close. Merlin, there was Shadow in his face

"I… need this." With great exertion, he crossed the barrier between their faces.

It wasn't a brotherly kiss, but it wasn't a kiss between lovers either. It was a good-bye, an apology, and he had been gone before it was over…

"I'm not going to ask if you are all right," Ron said. Everyone else had left as the embers of the fire slowly died. "But I'm going to let you know, if you ever need anything-"

"Hold me?" Her voice was small.

He strode the small step between them and took her into his arms. Merlin, this felt so right, even if it was wrong. Even if Draco was wrong- and she belonged to the ashes, as he knew she did- he allowed the feeling of her warmth spread through him.

The silence was better than any words.

A/N: debating a sequel!


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Romance