by Houses

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Chapter 11

The dim candle light of the hallway flickered in the slight breeze as Severus Snape dragged Willow down the hallway. Her slender fingers plucked the hand trapping her elbow, to no affect. He only tightened his grip, his face emotionless as she whimpered in pain. Suddenly he stopped and released her with a sharp whump against the cold stone wall. Willow glared up at him, meeting his burning black eyes defiantly.

"What. Is. Your. Problem." She spat out. "Was the dragging and pinching necessary?"

"Perhaps. Let me as you a question, little girl. Did you notice that someone didn't congratulate you at the end of the dance?" Her eyes clouded, but Willow shook her head. "No, I'd rather thought not. Isn't it odd that Minerva McGonagall, the only other person to successfully perform the Arabesque on Halloween in the last half century wasn't thrilled that some one else knew how to do it? Or that she never taught someone else after her husband died?"

Willow had flattened herself further back against the stone to get away from the obviously distressed Potions Master. "Maybe, but it's just a dance. What harm could it do?" she hissed back.

He snorted. "Just a dance, she says. You really know so little of how the world works, don't you. No dance is ever just a dance. They all serve some purpose whether you're dancing from joy, celebration, or just outright sex." He ran his hand down her flank and sneered at her discomfort. "They all have meaning. Aren't you just a little bit curious why that particular dance is performed at that particular time?"

Echoing around in the back of her mind were Draco's words, And as for you- dancing is like magic. Just feel it flowing through your limbs. Relax and let it take you away. She began to have the beginnings of butterflies in her stomach, but pushed Snape out of the way as she paced away from the wall. "Why don't you tell me then, since you've got your panties in a bunch about it," she snarked back.

"Now you want to know. Didn't Draco tell you? Did you even ask?" he responded archly. "No matter. What's done is done. That particular Arabesque has power on this night, the dividing line between life and death: the connection between your ancestors on the day of the dead. And on this day, and only this day, if the dance is done perfectly it allows the dancers to see each other."

Willow waved her hand negligently. "Whatever. I can't believe this is what is getting you so upset. So we could see each other. Big deal." She shivered a bit at Snape's brittle laughter.

"You really have no idea." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "You've been acting since you showed up. Hiding what ever it is you decided to run away from. Little slips here and there, but over all, a very fine performance. I should know; I act every day. Though, in my case, I am trying to appear more fierce, a sort of protection if you will. You on the other hand," here he gripped her shoulder and leaned close into her face, "you have been playing the innocent child. I saw you this afternoon. When everyone thought you were the savior, I saw you. Watched your precious act nearly come apart at the seams. I could see that struggle not to tear them apart."

Willow's eyes were wide with rage and horror. "No…" she whispered.

"Ha! And now it's all out there, and you did it to yourself. That dance, its special gift to the dancers, is to see what they wish to remain hidden." Willow gasped. "That's why you almost always see married pairs dancing it. It strengthens their bond… Isn't that interesting." Willow wrenched her shoulder out of his grasp and stalked a few feet away. Vaguely, she knew Snape was still watching her as she ran her fingers through her hair, snagging gently on the knots.

"So whatever you were hiding from the rest of us, Draco knows. And what did he have to say about that," he mused with a slightly cruel tilt to his words.

"He said I was perfect," she whispered. Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise before recovering.

"And what did you see, my dear. What did Draco's soul say to you?"

Her eyes flashed as she squared her shoulders. "What I did or did not see is not for you to know. And as for the rest of it, since you're so curious, perhaps I should show you." She stepped closer and he shrunk back from the barely suppressed anger.

Willow was trying, desperately trying, to hold herself together. The pull of the magic was still so strong from earlier; combined with the subtle power of the dance, her control was slowly unraveling into thin ribbons of distress. She ran her fingers through her hair again.

"Isn't it fascinating that people always want to know more than what's good for them? And you. You've been on my case since I got here. I saw you watching me tonight. What I don't understand is what I've done to you? All I've done is try to help, and still you watch." She let out a strangled sound that could have been a sob. She could feel herself slipping. The fractured pieces of her began to crackle with tension. With one last-ditch attempt to rein in her temper, she snapped and pushed the larger man flush back against the same wall he pinned her against earlier.

"I was having a wonderful evening you know. Being normal. Fitting in, mostly. Then you had to go and ruin it. I think it's time I returned the favor." She narrowed her eyes to slits and curled her mouth into a thin smile. Snape found himself unable to look away as she wove her head back and forth slightly. "I had a friend back home. Used to have to listen to him babble about his ex-girlfriend incessantly. 'My black rose!' 'My dark Princess!' It got old, really, but it turned out every once in a while he'd say something interesting. Drusilla had many gifts it appeared, but I've never had an opportunity to try them out until now." Quick as a striking snake, she reached out with both hands and pinned Snape's head between them. "I have a better idea. Let's not just show you. Interactive rides are so much fun, aren't they."

Her nails curved and barely broke the skin. Snape pulled at them but before he could remove them, he let out a small scream as she forced her way into his consciousness. The inner Snape struggled against the invader, but Willow let out a volley of flames and he whimpered and retreated. Much better. Now let's see where we begin. At the beginning? How mundane… but it starts the ball rolling. But which beginning. Ah… we'll go with stoppering death, since you have such a fascination with it. The mental Willow reached out with her tendrils of thought and wrapped Snape's terrified consciousness in a web of spider silk. Ready, Professor. Let's see how you like the lesson. And suddenly he was in her, seeing as she saw, feeling what she felt.

Glory strutting around, all holy. The blinding moment when she connected herself to both Tara and Glory at once. Touching the power nearly stopped her heart, but it was worth it. Tara was worth it and she was alone no more.

Sending Spike up the tower, the taste of his mind on her tongue, the ozone in the air. He fell from the tower, and a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Moments later, the portals and chaos started. And then it all ended, a beautiful swan dive to the warehouse floor, breaking more than bones, breaking hearts and minds all at once.

Holding it together, just barely. Wanting it all back the way it was. Needing the security, the knowledge that she didn't have to do it all on her own. The pain as the fawn struggled in her arms, its blood running over her hands. The despair as her screamed.

Beseeching needing wanting pleading. The fury and rage, the supplicated god relishing her essence. The tests one after another, marking her forever. The demons, and the anguish of being ripped away. Alone; bereft again.

Joy in succeeding, and just a little bit of arrogance at the uselessness of death. So easily defeated. Craving recognition, needing praise. The horror of discovery, a little piece of her dying just as she'd forced her friend to life. The devastation of heaven lost, insanity regained.

Tara is leaving. Tara is leaving. Tara is leaving. Numb blankness, then anger. I have done nothing wrong. And she is gone. Amy and the bronze. Rack and the violation of her innocence, but the inability to separate herself from the desire to be. Crashing out of a dream, the disgust and distain of her friends.

Joy! She has returned! Love has returned!

Shock and disbelief. Rage and denial, the supplication once again. Fear and rejection. The separation of self. The absorption of knowledge and power. Buffy's resurrection once again. Third time's the charm?

Hunting. The joy of pursuit, her target so close. And thwarted once again. The insignificance of her friends, their blindness. The path through the woods, playing with her prey like a cat would do, the sheer pleasure of the destruction of the bringer of pain.

Two to go. Why don't they see? Why won't they understand? The frustration and irritation. Swatting them like flies. Distractions and taking what should have been hers all along.

Drowning, that's what it was. Drowning in humanity, feeling where before there had been nothing but black vengeance. A solution presenting itself yet Xander stands before her, hands reached out in friendship, where had they been before? Disarmament and grief. Beginning once again…

With a gasp, Willow yanked her hands away from Snape's head. No, no, no, no, no! I am not her any longer! He slumped to the floor, still trapped inside his mind, or hers, she had no idea. One trembling hand moved to smooth his black hair out of his eyes and she saw, really saw, what she had done. Sobbing, she turned and ran, grabbing the skirts and hiking them over her knees as she fled. Not looking back to see if he would rise and follow her, she struggled through the haze of threatening tears. She reached her door without incident and stumbled to the bathroom, retching in the toilet as she fell to the floor on her knees.

*** ***

Draco followed Willow from the dance hall, amused that she didn't see him. It always struck him as amusing that someone that stood inches over everyone else with hair the color of moonlight could avoid being seen if he wished. He snorted as he thought how jealous he had been when he found out that Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak. He'd whined incessantly about it until Narcissa finally sat him down and firmly stated that he was a clever boy, when he used the brains he was gifted with. He should be able to figure out how to stalk around if he wished and not rely on any silly props. Suitably chastised, he practiced how to make himself unnoticeable. It was awfully handy, he decided as he slipped silently after a storming Snape and obviously irritated Willow.

Well, well. This is even more fascinating than I'd hoped. He ignored the flare of jealously as Snape ran his fingers down Willow's side, but it didn't stop him for wishing the man a little pain, just for good measure. Though, a few minutes later, when she clawed the side of his head and worked some sort of magical mojo on the professor's mind, he did feel a bit sorry for him. Especially when Willow released Snape with a sob and darted down the hallway leaving a very uncomfortable Snape still slouched against the stones. Never one to let an opportunity pass by; he crept closer to the unmoving man.

He whispered a quick 'mobilus corpus' and whisked him down the hall to the Potion's classroom. Sweeping the desk clear with his wand, he gently lowered limp Severus Snape to his desk. He strode back to the door of the classroom and locked it with his personal wards and sat down to wait.

Nearly a half an hour later, Draco saw the first signs of movement. He waved up a glass of cold water and flicked a bit in Snape's face. When his eyes opened a crack, Draco spoke. "Having a nice evening, Professor? I found you lying there in the hall, and I though you looked a little uncomfortable so I brought you here to your classroom."

Snape made a few uncoordinated movements with his hands and arched his back before muttering under his breath, "Lonely. So lonely, I couldn't get away…" He inhaled a rough breath before rubbing his eyes and blinking. As they focused on the pale face near his, he narrowed his eyes.

"Draco."

"I believe we covered that, Professor Snape. I brought you here. I figured you didn't want anyone to see you slumped in the hallway, might cause talk." He cocked his head and gestured with the water. "Want some?"

Groggily, Snape reached for the water as he struggled to sit up. "I have rather screwed up things, haven't I." Draco made a small, non-committal noise in his throat before standing.

"I am sure I have no idea." He inclined his head. "Since you seem better, I'm off to torment some first years. They get so jumpy after a dance…" He paused briefly before turning his shrewd silver eyes back to Snape. "Remember, one good turn deserves another, isn't that right? Have a good evening." He disarmed the wards and swirled out of the classroom. Snape remained sitting with his head on his hands, staring at the floor.

*** ***

Once she had regurgitated what seemed like everything she'd eaten in the last two years, Willow washed her face, peering into the mirror. What she saw staring back nearly made her retch again. How could I? What is wrong with me! She slammed her hand against the mirror in frustration before turning back to her room. She calmly took off the beautiful dress robes and rooted through the wardrobe until she came up with the clothes she had worn to Hogwarts. She changed her clothes, packed her small knapsack with whatever she brought with her in the first place and sat on the bed to wait.

Trapped alone with her thoughts, Willow sank back into her memories once again. How did I get here? When did I stop being me, and become something all together different? She worried at the hem of her anorak and jumped when she heard a knock on the door.

Taking a deep breath, she strode forward and opened the door. When she saw only Snape standing there, she peered out to look both ways down the hallway.

"Where are the others?"

"Beg your pardon?" Snape was genuinely confused. "What others?"

"I just figured that Dumbledore would come himself to kick me out. Let me get my bag." She picked up her pack and started to walk out of the door once more. Snape extended an arm, gently, and guided her back inside.

"Willow, no one is coming. I haven't told anyone what happened. I am only here to talk to you."

Since looking him in the eyes made her feel nauseas, she directed her faint, "OK" to his top button. She walked back into the room and sat at one of the two armchairs by the fireplace. He settled into the one opposite and casually lit a fire, seeing Willow's wince out of the corner of his eye.

"Willow, I'm afraid I owe you an apology." She stared at him with wide eyes before bursting out in mildly hysterical laughter.

"You owe me and apology? Gee, that's… fucked up." Her hands trembled as she smoothed her hair back into a ponytail. "I drag you through my most miserable memories and you think you owe me an apology? I'm afraid I really just don't follow that logic at all. We're talking serious insane Troll logic here." She looked at his face and scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "But you're serious aren't you? Why?"

He sighed. "It's complicated. Suffice it to say, the old cliché that no one is perfect fits this situation rather well." He rolled his head around and pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture oddly reminiscent of Giles. "Not that the surround sound version of your collapse wasn't exhilarating, but it's definitely something that I'd like not to repeat anytime soon. Fair enough?"

Nodding, she said softly, "Sure. I think I can manage that. But I am curious- sure no one is perfect, but not everyone tries to destroy the world."

He chuckled, "No. They don't. But everyone has weaknesses, and it is pretty much a guarantee that everyone falls down at least once, some more spectacular than others." He unbuttoned his left cuff and slowly rolled it to the elbow. "And some have to bear more visible brands than others." He leaned closer to the fire and tilted his forearm towards Willow. She reached out one pale hand to trace the Dark Mark marring the porcelain of his skin. She held her fingers over the tattoo of a skull and snake and could feel the miasma of evil surrounding it. She snatched her hand away.

"You have to live with that? All the time, feeling like that?"

He arched eyebrow. "I do. And you, for all that you don't show it, have something very similar." He methodically rolled down his sleeve and buttoned it back up. "When I was young, perhaps your age, I was offered an opportunity to participate in something very powerful. To be a part of the movement greater than the wizarding world had ever seen, and I jumped at the opportunity. At the time it didn't matter what the cost was; I achieved everything I wanted. Then one day I woke up and the world didn't look the same." He sighed. "But for that brief time of stupidity, I have paid a lifetime of penance. I suppose it is the way it should be, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. To know I contributed to something that made the world that much worse, and enjoyed myself doing it, is something I have to live with every day. But I do."

He leaned back in his chair, the wings hiding his face from the firelight. "I saw you walk down that center aisle the first night you arrived and I saw a reflection of myself. And it scared me to death. You have great power, Willow, greater than I have ever seen. But you need to come to terms with yourself. You will never succeed if you don't find a balance between what you were and what you will become, and part of this is learning to accept the darkness in yourself." She could hear him rustling in the chair over the crackling of the fire.

"I think you showed me quite a bit more than you meant to when you… raped… my mind like you did. I saw you as a young girl as well. The dutiful daughter neglected by overbearing parents more interested in themselves than their offspring. I saw the school aged Willow tormented by bullies, merely trying to fit in. And I saw your desperate attempts to belong finally succeeding when that Buffy person came to town." He tilted slightly and looked at her directly, the flashing flames reflecting off his eyes. "And then you began to loose yourself in others. First in Oz, the first boy to want you for you, then to Xander because he finally began to notice you. When they were gone, Tara was there, all welcome adoration until she finally became tired of being a doormat." At Willow's squeak of protest, he waved his hand. "Perhaps I am painting this in too negative a light. The gist of which is, Willow, you need to decide what you want to be, and be it. No one is all goodness and light, and not everyone is as depraved as Angelus was." He gathered himself to stand.

"Perhaps this dance with Draco tonight was good for you after all. That remains to be seen." He stiffly pushed himself out of the chair, silhouetted in the firelight. "I haven't said anything to anyone and I won't. You need to figure out a few things first. But I promise you, pull another stunt like the one in the hallway, and I'll send you back to your world in heartbeat." He rested his hand on the chair back. "And Willow, as much as it's hard to accept, in the end, we are always alone." He moved silently and let himself out the door. Willow remained in her armchair, staring at the fire until the last flames flickered and died.

Chapter 12

The cold gray light of dawn crept around the windowsill, gripping the dim room with chilled fingers. Still Willow sat, staring into the hearth where the magical fire had long since burned away without ashes. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there, spinning through the same thoughts in her mind. Her eyes burned but she couldn't keep them closed. The minute she rested her lids, the night's events replayed themselves in whirling Technicolor. She was stuck in the emotional dance of contentment, wonder, anger, guilt and fear. She tried to find one thread and concentrate on it, but they all kept slipping away. With a sigh, she peeled herself out of the chair and shakily walked to the window.

The frost of late fall had crystallized into wild fractals at the base of the pane, and Willow traced them with her finger, grimacing faintly as the heat of her touch melted them through the glass. Well, looks like whatever I touch gets destroyed. She rolled her eyes and laid her palm flat on the glass, staring across the fields to the lake and woods beyond. The world was still and misty, beginning to shine as the sun just crested the trees.

Holding her breath, Willow watched the world wake up. A few birds took flight from their nests by Hagrid's cottage as he opened the door and let Fang out. At this distance, she couldn't hear Fang's bark, but she could see Hagrid shush him with a bone and walk solidly to the corrals where his creatures were kept. There was something surreal and magical about seeing sunrise from the wrong direction and Willow stood transfixed as the night gray bled into a pantheon of flame. Feeling almost guilty for watching something so beautiful, she stepped back from the window as the sun finally rose. She returned to her seat at the fire and curled her legs up underneath her, resting her chin on her hands.

*** ***

Willow jerked awake with a start. At first she thought she'd only slept for a few seconds, but at glimpsing the dusk outside the window, she realized she'd spent the entire day, and most of the night, in the chair by the fireplace. Her neck hurt, her back was a mass of cramps, and her knees were locked and numb. Gingerly she unwound herself and groaning, made her way to the bathroom.

A shower. That's what I need; work the kinks out of my system. She ran the water until it was steaming and as hot as she could stand before stripping and stepping under the spray. Her mind was pleasantly numb at the outset, but as her body woke up, so did her thoughts. With that, she scrubbed harder at her skin, as if to remove all traces of the night before. Remembering another time she stood in the shower, trying to rinse the night away, her throat caught and she leaned her head against the shower wall. Taking a few deep breaths, she steadied herself.

Huh. I've been here all day. I've likely missed every meal, and no one has seen me since I ran out of the hall last night. She frowned and lathered up her hair. So, no one has come looking for me, or if they did- I didn't see them. So…that means what exactly. She rinsed her hair and started working in the conditioner. One thing I have to say for this place, the bath products just can't be beat! She sighed and rinsed again. Let's say they were concerned about my sudden disappearance- wouldn't it be likely they'd want to see if I was alright? I would… or maybe someone found out about what happened in the hallway and they're all afraid of me. Her heart skipped a beat and she stood stock still. NO. He said he wouldn't tell anyone, and I don't think he would. He understands; that much I believe. Then maybe it has something to do with my dance with Draco. So Minerva wasn't pleased, but that doesn't mean everyone knew what was going on. Most people certainly didn't! Wonder how Snape knew… She rung out the washcloth and hung it over a handy rack in the shower. Despite the water never running cold, she was pretty sure she wasn't made to spend indefinite time in the shower. Willow held her hands up in the muted light and squinted at her fingertips. Pruny. Ick. If I don't get out soon, I may end up permanently dried fruit. She lingered over taps before finally shutting them off and toweling down with an enormous fluffy towel. Wrapping it tightly around her body, she walked into the main bedroom.

"Eeeek! What are you doing here!"

A small house elf with luminescent topaz eyes was setting a small table for dinner. At Willow's outburst, the elf's ears stuck straight out and she dropped the platter of asparagus, shattering the bowl on the floor.

"Oh wait, I'm sorry, don't cry!" Willow knelt near the now trembling elf busy repairing the bowl and conjuring another.

"Lala is so sorry, miss. Lala didn't hear you get out of the shower. Be out of your way soon." Willow patted her on the shoulder and set the repaired bowl of asparagus on the table.

"Not that I'm not delighted to meet you, Lala, but what exactly are you doing here? I thought I missed dinner?"

"Oh yes, miss, you did. But Master Snape requested this be sent up since you aren't feeling well. Don't you like asparagus and roast chicken?" At the pleading, hopeful look in the house elf's eyes, Willow smiled.

"Oh, I do very much. He didn't also happen to request something chocolate did he?" Lala wagged her head up and down rapidly.

"Chocolate mousse! He said specifically, 'There is no problem that can't be solved by chocolate'. So you have mousse." The tiny creature indicated a covered silver bowl. "If you will excuse me, Lala must be going now." With a small curtsey and flick of her long fingers, Lala vanished into the ether.

Willow sat at the table and lifted the lids off of several of the dishes. Well, this is surreal. He remembered all of my favorite foods! Not to mention the chocolate mousse. She pursed her lips in confusion. She tasted one dish after another, grinning as they fairly melted on her tongue. To her amazement, she was famished. When they were all finished, Willow stacked the dishes neatly and put on a pair of sturdy everyday robes.

Grabbing her heavy over-cloak, she set out from her rooms, heading towards the dungeons. There were few students in the halls, and none passed close by. Grateful to avoid any unwanted confrontations, she walked briskly past the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. She wove through the tunnels and passages, shivering in the damp, until she reached the doors to the Potions classroom. Not knowing where to go next, she turned to portrait across the hall. Thank goodness this place has built in directions, if I can just remember not to ask anything of drunken knights. "Excuse me, ladies. I was wondering if I might ask you a question."

The three ladies sharing a pot of tea turned her way, and the most impressive of the three placed her cup neatly in its saucer. "Yes?"

"Would you mind telling me which room belongs to Professor Snape?" The lady looked her over a few times before nodding.

"This one here, dear. He's just turned in for the evening. You may catch him awake. Just knock."

Willow indicated her thanks and turned to gently rap on the heavy wood frame. A few minutes of silence, then she could just make out the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. It cracked open to reveal the dour face of the Potions teacher.

"What? Oh, Willow, it's you." He opened the door a little wider. She could see he was only wearing a dark green dressing gown over black silk pajamas. "What can I do for you?" He gestured Willow inside and firmly shut the door.

"I won't take up much of your time, I promise. I just wanted to say thanks." He raised one eyebrow. "For dinner. It was delicious." She twisted her fingers around and raised her eyes to his. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this. He looked at her almost wistfully, like he was watching a memory.

"I told the rest of the staff that you were exhausted after yesterday, both in the town and after the dance. It wasn't hard to convince them, though Minerva was a little suspicious. I had Lala bring you dinner after I noticed you didn't appear for any of the meals." He indicated a chair and Willow sat, examining her surroundings.

The quarters were plain but elegant. A beautiful writing desk sat in one corner littered with scrolls and parchments and a collection of used and broken quills heaped in a pile. The chairs by the fire were of black leather, high backed, and soft as butter, with a matching couch and chaise along the far wall. Adorning the walls, painted a deep charcoal gray, were several portraits and photographs, black and white, of witches and wizards from all times. "My family," he said as an explanation. She looked at the hooked noses and superior demeanors of most of the subjects and decided she'd have known them as Snapes anywhere.

"You have a large family then?" she asked softly.

"Yes. The Snapes have been around for quite some time. I have many cousins, but in my direct family line there is only myself." Willow looked at him inquiringly. "My mother died when I was quite young. I grew up with my cousins on the Snape side mostly. As a matter of fact, Narcissa Malfoy is a second cousin on my mothers' side." He grimaced. "Not that we were ever particularly close…"

Willow nodded, not wanting to push, and continued her inspection of the rooms. Snape didn't seem to want anything of her, and was only watching her with mild interest. Figuring it was rude to stare at man in his dressing gown, no matter now nicely it showed off surprising muscle tone, Willow twisted her head further around and gasped at the collection of books lining the walls. He chuckled.

"I see you approve of my library. It's a hobby of mine, reading things I shouldn't. Some thing you can relate to, I believe." Willow started guiltily, and he sneered. "Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your choice of bedtime reading." He frowned, then added, "Actually, you may benefit from some of these, if you are truly interested in the direction your studies were taking you in your world." He tapped his fingers on the edge of the chair.

Willow held her breath before asking, in a voice barely over a whisper, "Will you teach me?"

He looked her right in the eyes, and said with measured cadence, "Will you learn? Can you accept instruction?" She fidgeted. "If you're serious, I'll arrange to meet with you some nights during the week. But I don't suffer fools, and I will not tolerate insubordination." He glared at her, black eyes seeing much more than her appearance and manner. She nodded. "Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"Um, about Lala. Do all the house elves have names from the Teletubbies?" He looked at her blankly. "I guess not. Um… I think I have to be going. It's later than I thought." She glanced around before standing. Snape hadn't moved and was watching her dispassionately. "Well, then. I'll see you tomorrow." He waved his hand. "Ok…" She backed towards the door, letting herself out.

Once outside in the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever that encounter had been, relaxed it wasn't. She had not expected him to allow her into his private domain, and she most definitely had not expected him to offer to teach her. Not really interested in questioning his motives, she was just grateful that he seemed willing to start over with her, given what she'd done to him.

The redheaded witch scrunched her brow as she wrapped herself up in her outer cloak. She glanced up at the clock as she passed through the front hall, Hmm, Slytherin's ahead, but not by much. If they loose to Ravenclaw, they'll drop behind Gryffindor. She grinned. I can't believe I'm following Quidditch! I hate football. She frowned. And I can't believe I hope Slytherin wins. That's just weird. The doors to the yard were shut, but she pushed them open with ease. Slipping down the stairs, she sought the path to the lake, illuminated by moonlight.

The world turned silver in shades of black and white. Willow's hair gleamed in the moonlight as she wove in between the rocks. She could see a faint shine in the water that was too regular to be the moon, so she was only mildly surprised when a softly glowing Squidward waved at her.

"Hi, Squidward. I forgot that giant squids are mostly nocturnal. Guess that being stuck in a loch'll screw up your whole schedule. Sorry I couldn't grab any snacks for you, the kitchen isn't open this late." His dinner plate sized eye gleamed up at her from the inky darkness of the lake, and she felt that somehow he understood. She continued along the water's edge until she reached Tara's rock, and she added another small pile.

She sank down to the ground, caressing the rough stone, glad to be able to talk to someone, even if that someone was currently deceased and represented by a large boulder. I screwed up, Tara. But I guess you know that already. I've tried so hard to be what they wanted me to be. I just didn't think the old me would catch up with the new me. I can't believe myself. I'm pathetic. Tears started to form in her eyes, but she blinked them away fiercely. But I'm going to stop all that now. I promised myself I'd be better, I'll be the best witch I can. I'm going to learn from Snape. He understands I guess, especially after I…

She stopped suddenly when the feeling of being watched returned full force. Willow stood quietly and peered into the shadows lining the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The trees moved with the late breeze and the cracking of twigs and limbs as they rubbed together blotted out any sounds from the ground. She spared a glance upwards to the moon, a bright silver disk, and took a few steps back along the lake.

"Hello? I know someone's watching me." There was only silence for an answer. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the lakeside once again.

With a splash, Squidward shot one enormous tentacle out of the water. It landed behind a large rock with a thump, and Willow was sure she could hear a small yelp. Squidward yanked upwards, and she could see a silver shape dangling from his suckers. She took a few steps closer and saw that it was in fact a rather large dog, perhaps even a coyote. The giant squid gave the creature several sharp shakes, and it yelped again.

Willow walked forward. "Well, well. What have we here. I know you're not really an animal, I can feel it. You may as well turn back before I have Squidward here turn you into a midnight snack."

For emphasis, the pad at the end of his tentacle tightened and he gave it another sharp shake. Shimmering faintly, the shape morphed into a rather limp collection of black robes, and familiar white hair.

"Draco! What are you doing out here!"

Chapter 13

"Draco! It's OK, Squidward, I know him. He has a lot of explaining to do, but you may as well put him down." The giant squid released his almost-meal from the height of about 10 feet and Draco hit the ground with a thump. Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position as Willow approached.

She arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms, glaring at him sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

He almost had the grace to look ashamed as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, wincing as he touched one of the red sucker marks the mollusk left on his skin. "Nice night for a walk, wouldn't you say?" He said, with what he hoped was a charming grin. Unfortunately that was a little hard to pull off while tangled in robes and rocks, and becoming more than slightly damp. Squidward had dropped him a large puddle.

"Very." She glared down at him. She leaned back against a large rock and cocked her head. Her heart was racing, more from irritation than any trace of fear. "You've been watching me for months now, haven't you. Ever since I showed up…" At his nod, she threw up her hands. "Why? What could possibly entice you to creep around after me?"

Draco raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. "Well. I guess I found you intriguing." He pulled at his robes and attempted to knit together some dignity.

"Intriguing? Particle physics is intriguing. I'm just Willow. A Willow you knew nothing about. Still don't, really." She humphed and tossed her hair.

His face twisted into a sly smile. "Oh no…? Well, I know you're beautiful." He got to his feet. "And charming." He took a step further. "And powerful." He was almost to where she was standing, and she was more than a little startled to discover her breathing had increased and she couldn't turn away. She leaned back; suddenly very aware of him. That he was a 'him' and she didn't mind. That he still smelled as nice as he did during the dance, lake odor aside. He smelled of snow and lightening, the chill of a winter storm, and she caught herself leaning nearer. Willow narrowed her eyes.

"And this was before the dance, which you had better explain by the way. What gave you the right to dance that with me, 'see me' or whatever, and not tell me what it was for?!? Your arrogance is astounding, even for a Malfoy."

He blanched. "You figured it out then?" he asked softly. At her nod, he continued, "Guess Snape must have said something. Figures, he is family. It was something my mother taught me a long time ago. I told you that. Her family had done it for generations, trying to sort out possible potential mates to strengthen the bloodline. I didn't know if it would work with you or not, since you'd never seen it done." He was lying, but he didn't see the point in saying so. Honesty was all well and good, but too much of it could be damning. "I thought I'd try. You are powerful, and it stands to reason you could feel your way around it." He smiled at her hungrily, much like a wolf after its dinner. "And you did better than I ever thought possible."

Willow shivered. It was as if the dance was still there, swirling around the two of them. It flowed down the lines of light from the moon, caressing lines of shadow and silver along her arms, through her hair, stroking her cheek. She shook her head sharply, trying to break free. She fought to regain control of the situation the only way she knew how. She got mad.

"Did it not occur to you I come out here for privacy? To get away from the likes of Hogwarts? God! This place is so stifling all the time. And you? All mysterious and sexy and I can't believe I just said this. I'm gay now, right? I shouldn't be thinking these things about a guy. It's ridiculous. What's wrong with me!"

Draco was staring quietly at her during the tirade, but at the 'gay now' comment he coughed. "Excuse me. Did I just hear you right, you're gay now? What were you before?" He dusted off his cloak while watching her through long blond eyelashes. Willow looked wound tight, despite her best attempts to look calm and collected. She was obviously recovering from something, and if she'd gone through anything like Snape had the night before, Draco was pretty sure she felt like shit. Her face was pale and her aura was crackling. After what he'd witnessed around her recently, he'd be sure to be careful.

At his comment, she clapped her hands over her mouth, and sank to her knees. "No, I did not just say that. Why can't I keep my mouth shut!" she wailed. Draco remained quiet as she looked up at him with moss green eyes. The moonlight shone on unshed tears, and he was shocked that he hadn't noticed them in all the smushing, shaking and dropping. "Do you want to know why I come out here? See this rock? It's a gravestone of sorts. Before I… came here, I was happily living my life back in Sunnydale. Then some lunatic shot my girlfriend right in front of me. You know what the last thing she said to me was? 'Your shirt.'" She laughed sort of hysterically. "This is turning into 24 hours of confessions. It sucks." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can't go to Tara's real grave, so I come here. To talk to her, let her know how my life is going."

She was surprised to feel warm, strong hands holding her own. She looked up and caught a glimpse of the same Draco Malfoy she'd seen at the dance the night before. Devoid of sarcasm and distain, he said, quite simply, "I'm sorry. I had no idea. If I'd known I was intruding on that I wouldn't have followed you." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "Who am I kidding; I still would have followed you. Couldn't help myself, but I'd have felt sort of guilty about it. Which is weird."

She snorted. "Lacking a moral compass, are we?" He smiled.

"A bit. Look, I'm sorry I upset you. I really didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to keep my eye on you." He hauled her up to her feet. "So, you think I'm sexy?"

She burst out into giggles, and batted her eyelashes at him. "Maybe. Not bad for a guy." He stood a little straighter. She glared at him. "I'm still pissed at you. Don't ever, ever sneak up on me again. No more cloak and daggers shit. I swear, if I find out you're doing something remotely Slytherin around me, I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it."

Eyes crackling with green fire raked his face. Stunned by the intensity, Draco could only nod and add, "So, what's a girl like you and a guy like me going to do on this beautiful moonlit night?"

*** ***

They walked onto the pitch in the empty of night. Willow paced next to Draco, who was carrying two brooms over his shoulder. She turned her head slightly and said, "So, a coyote. Interesting choice."

He stopped short and responded indignantly, "I am not a coyote. I am a wolf."

"You are so a coyote. We have them in Southern California. Besides, I saw some in the zoo. I'm just delighted you aren't a hyena."

"Hyena! Oh, thanks a lot. And I am not a coyote. They're so…"

She grinned, "American? Right, I get it. You don't want to be all 'colonial'. Fine, but you're still a coyote." At his snort of disapproval, she added, "Coyotes are very special you know. A lot of Native American myths revolve around them. In some they can be helpful, others not so much. I think they're considered tricksters or mischief makers actually." He raised his eyebrows. "I've been studying up on Animagus transformations. It's something I should talk to Professor McGonagall about sometime soon, actually. What I've learned is the form you take, while you can direct the general size and nature of the creature, is a reflection of the transfiguring human's soul. Something about you must say coyote."

He regarded her for a moment. "So, you've been studying to become an Animagus? What do you think you'd be?" Several emotions flickered across her face. After a few seconds pause, she faced away from him, looking at something off in the distance.

"I don't know, really."

He decided to let the subject drop, and did the same with the brooms. He laid one next to the other and positioned Willow across from him. She looked around "Are you sure you aren't going to get in trouble for this? It is the middle of the night, and a school night, no less."

He smiled that smile again. The one she couldn't decide if she wanted to smack off his face or swoon. It was most irritating; she'd never considered herself a swooner. "This is the one advantage of being Head Boy: the right to abuse the privileges contained therein. No one is going to bother us, and if they do, you're sort of a teacher, right? So, no problem there." She rolled her eyes. "Okay. Take your dominant hand and hold it over the broom like so, and say, quite firmly 'Up'."

Willow gave him a funny look and held her right hand over the broom. "Up!" The broom came flying off the ground and smacked her hand. "Ow! That's not supposed to hurt is it?" He snickered.

He called his broom and swung one leg over the side. "You seem to have the calling right, now let's see about mounting the broom. Swing your leg like so, and gently balance; holding the broom between your hands like this."

Fire colored hair fell in her face as she squinted in concentration. She straddled the broom and leaned forward to balance on her hands. Quite suddenly, the broom pitched forwards, dumping Willow off the end as it shot up into the sky bristles first. And disappeared.

Draco tilted his head and gave Willow a piercing look. "Huh. Never seen that before. So, one broom left. Still want to fly, Firestarter?"

Willow could feel the moment slipping away from her despite her attempts to catch it with too weary fingers. It was no longer tangible, she decided, this moon drenched night with the icy coyote asking her to fly away with him. It was so deliciously surreal that Willow found herself reaching out her hand, wordlessly asking to be taken away from the past, away from the memories, away from the pain. It wouldn't hurt, this ride in the starlight, because it wasn't happening.

Draco noticed something strange was going on with the lovely young woman before him. She seemed to get lighter, and more transparent, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He decided he could really care less why when she held out her hand and slid one slim leg over the broomstick behind him. She leaned forward and breathed softly on his neck. Draco nearly groaned as all the hairs on his body stood straight up. Her eyes were glassy when he turned around but she smiled.

"Oh, yes, Draco. I'd very much like to fly." She wrapped her arms around his waist and relished the warm strength of his muscles, hard from hours of flying. The solidity of another, companionship freely given… He bared his teeth in response as he kicked off from the ground. She made no sound as the soared into the air, high above even the tallest towers. She drank in the wind and laughed out loud when he dropped them a hundred feet in one dive, swooping as close to the ground as he dared.

She leaned into the turns with wild abandon. Willow's hair streamed back from her face, a mane of flame. The air sang past her ears, whispering of things alive and gone, stripped from the world in wisps of flight. She could feel the way the trees bathed in the wind, relished it like they did water. For a moment, she was one of them, reaching deep into the earth even as she soared.

Draco, for his part, was feeling a little out of his element. He'd dreamed of something like this, but was sure it would never happen. And now that he'd found her, this living flame, he'd be damned before he let her go. He swirled and dove, relishing the moment. Eventually, though, as the false dawn threatened the black and white world of night, he brought them back down to earth.

She slid off the broom bonelessly, and would have fallen had he not caught her. Part of her was still up there in the sky, away from it all. The other part of her was looking at the young man in front of her with new eyes. He stared back at her, devouring every detail. Her mouth was parted slightly and the corners of her lips turned up. He took one graceful finger and brushed her hair behind her ear. She leaned into the touch and he cupped her chin in his palm.

In one of those moments where everything seems to still, and the world watches closely, he leaned down and stopped merely a breath away from her face. He laid his cheek against hers as she closed her eyes and he moaned softly, deep in his chest. The soft skin of her face was chilled from the flight. He brought his other hand up to the curve of her lower back and slowly leaned down to kissed the base of her neck where it joined her shoulder.

Willow shuddered and leaned into his touch before pushing back. The world slammed into her again and she shook her head. "I… I can't. It's too soon. I just… I'm sorry." She looked up at his face, expecting anger or rejection. What she saw chilled her. He was looking at her with glittering eyes.

"That may be, Firestarter, but have no doubt, you are mine. You saw it the other night when we danced. You can be sorry all you want, but in the end, it will do no good." His hand around her waist curled her closer. She was leaning into him again, despite the screaming voice inside her head that told her to run. He ran her hair through the fingers of his free hand and snarled softly as her breathing became ragged. "The way we danced together was intoxicating, for both of us. I will wait, but not forever. Patience is a virtue that Malfoys are not known to possess," he whispered before releasing her.

She stumbled backwards and nearly fell. He was watching her with hooded eyes, but made no move to stop her as she strode briskly away. She was back inside the castle before she knew it, nearly sprinting down the passage to her rooms. She skittered to a stop outside the painting and gasped out "oriental poppies". She collapsed on the bed, shaking, though she didn't know why. She wasn't afraid; she wasn't cold. Curled into a ball, still dressed from the outside, she wondered just when it was that her life became this out of control.

*** ***

Draco pulled out his chair and slumped down at the breakfast table. Late nights were not good for morning classes, and he rubbed his eyes blearily. Especially ones as draining as the one the night before. The position of Head Boy seemed better and better since he didn't have to deal with any curious glances and irritating whispers returning to the dorms at dawn. He didn't need that aggravation, especially not now.

He picked up his fork and poked at what he believed to be a sausage in the middle of his plate. Instead of puncturing meat, the fork merely pushed the object away with a scratch. He rubbed his eyes again and picked up a neatly rolled parchment, tied with a silver ribbon. Carefully he unrolled it and read the neat script,

Draco,

I found this in an old Native American text in the library this morning. It is part of a legend for the Okanogan People. I thought it was very interesting reading.

Willow

"Poor Coyote's knees grew weak. He sank down by the fire in that great tepee. The heart of the Spirit Chief was touched when he saw the lowered head of Coyote, the mischief-maker. After a silence the Chief spoke, "You are Coyote! You are the hated among all the tribes, among all the people. I have chosen you from among all others to make you sleep, to go to the land of the dream visions. I make a purpose for you, a big work for you to do before another change comes to the people. You are to be father for all the tribes, for all the new kind of people who are to come. Because you are so hated, degraded and despised, you will be known as the Trick-person. You will have power to change yourself into anything, any object you wish when in danger or distress. There are man-eating monsters on the earth who are destroying the people. The tribes cannot increase and grow as I wish. These monsters must all be vanquished before the new people come. This is your work to do. I give you powers to kill these monsters. I have given your twin, Fox, power to help you, to restore you to life should you be killed. Your bones may be scattered; but if there is one hair left on your body, Fox can bring you back to life. Now go, despised Coyote! Begin the work laid out for your trail. Do good for the benefit of your people.""

Attached was a photograph of a coyote hunting amongst the scrubs of the Sierra Nevada. "Huh. She's right!" he mumbled, "I am a coyote."

He looked to the other end of the table where Willow usually sat. Her seat was empty and he just caught the flash of scarlet hair as she vanished through the door to the hallway. So, no permanent damage done. She wouldn't have left this otherwise. He smiled to himself and mentally ran through the list of supplies in the box beneath his bed. Soon, he affirmed to himself. It will be soon. No more waiting.

Chapter 14

Willow gripped her cup of coffee and trotted out of the Great Hall as quickly as she could. She wasn't avoiding anyone, particularly; she merely felt the call of the library -loudly- beating her around the temples- that morning, despite having just left minutes before. Her best attempts to sleep at all the night before failed miserably, and she'd found herself creeping down the corridors at full dawn, replaying the night's events, unable to relax. Figuring that Draco didn't often find himself proved wrong, she set out to find some coyote related information to shove his direction. She grinned as she remembered coming across the paragraph she'd recopied for him. It suits him to a T.

The corridor path to the library was becoming shorter and shorter; sanctuary was in sight. Sighing in relief, she took another sip of coffee. A strong hand gripped her elbow, and she didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," she chirped, much more enthusiastically than she felt. Hearing a muffled snort, she turned to see piercing blue eyes regarding her seriously.

"Miss Rosenberg, are you feeling better?" At the brief look of confusion that swirled across her features, he continued, "Severus assured us that you weren't feeling well yesterday, so it's wonderful to see you up and about again."

She laughed a bit nervously and replied, "Oh, yes. I feel much better, thank you. And yourself, did you have a nice dance?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why, yes, young lady, I did. Lovely dancing all around, wouldn't you say? As a matter of fact, I haven't had a chance to talk with you since the events in Hogsmeade this weekend. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to wait in my office? I have a few more things to take care of, but I'll be right along." His tone brooked no argument, but Willow felt no animosity. He pushed her gently in the direction of his staircase, watching to make sure she took the suggestion seriously.

So now Willow found herself sitting Dumbledore's office, half convinced that Principal Snyder was going to waltz in and verbally redecorate the office with her intestines. It was an interesting feeling, and one not missed in the years since his 'Principalness' was munched on Graduation Day. Deciding that memory lane was a bit too crowded today, she used the quiet minute until Dumbledore returned to study the office.

In her previous encounters, she had always been a bit distracted. Now on the other hand, she was truly impressed with what she saw. Fawkes was on his perch, balefully glaring in her direction after her entry roused him from his morning nap. The early morning sun gleamed on his feathers, sending prisms of light around the office as he rustled. She followed the paths of the light beams, smiling as they struck one fascinating object after another.

Dumbledore seemed awfully fond of semi-scientific contraptions made of brass or other shiny metals, with beautiful engravings and lovely stones. She walked to one shelf, and sent the myriad of worlds spinning with just one touch. The planets whirled by, dancing a complex ballet, and she smiled. Wouldn't it be simple, if my world revolved on like this? Nice and simple, things ordered and in their places. She sighed and poked around the other objects on the shelves. I swear, if I was a cat, I'd have used up most of my lives by now. Just look at me, I can't keep my nose out of his shelves!

She snorted and stalked back to her seat. Before she fully sat down, though, something caught her eye. Across the office, slumped unobtrusively, was a dingy brownish felt hat. Willow's fingers twitched, and despite her resolve to sit quietly and wait, she took the four steps to the bookcase. Eye to eye with the Sorting Hat, she breathed out a very quiet, "Hello?" It remained quiet and still, and scrunching her nose in disappointment, she turned away.

"Not very polite to wake everything in here up from a nap." Willow half jumped and whipped her head around. "So what did you want?"

Not exactly sure of the proper way to address apparel she stuttered a bit, "Uh, um, I-I was wondering, that is, I'm sorry I woke you up… I didn't know hats slept, or talked really. Neato though, talking hats. I wonder, can other hats talk?"

"Of course we nap, silly girl! Otherwise, I'd go blind from boredom. And my cousin, a natty looking bowler, is an excellent conversationalist. But you didn't come here to talk about my family tree, did you? I wonder what you want? Could it possibly be you want to be sorted?" She blinked. "I thought so, always people wanting to know where they fit in. Never could figure out why."

"Well, could you tell me? I know I'm a bit old, but I'd really like to know." The tip of the hat slowly wagged back and forth, and the felt face narrowed its eyes and pursed its lips. Willow stood up a little bit straighter and raised her chin.

"You have great courage, and determination. You seek recognition and approval, despite inherent modesty. You are quick witted and have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but will seek the easy path when confronted. The loyalty to your friends is unquestionable, provided their loyalty is unquestionable in return. But most of all, I see power, so bright it blinds. You are capable of great and dreadful deeds." It paused and seemed to regard her for a moment. "But I can't help you. You don't want to be sorted, you want to belong. Categories are not instant companions. You may be desperately afraid of being alone, even to the point of crippling your decisions, but that does not mean there is no place for you."

Gripping her hands to fists at her side, Willow was almost vibrating in frustration. "You tell me all these horrible things about myself, and can't even tell me where I belong?!? What kind of Sorting Hat are you? Sort me, damn it!"

"They aren't all bad qualities, you know." Willow whipped around to see Dumbledore seated neatly at his seat. "And I think it was right not to answer your request. No one fits neatly into any one house, not when they're children, certainly not when they are adults. You know better than anyone I've ever met about the different sides to each and every person." He leveled his eyes at her and indicated she should take a seat.

Her hands were trembling as she wound her fingers together in her lap. She had no idea what to expect out of this meeting. Dumbledore seemed to know so much of what went on in Hogwarts, and outside, that she didn't know what he had 'seen' in the past two days. The incident in Hogsmeade was a matter of public record, he'd been at the dance to see the Arabesque with Draco, but she was terrified that he may somehow know of her indiscretion with Snape in the hallway, or even her midnight flight with Draco. Raising her eyes to look the headmaster in the face, she was surprise at the kind, if mildly disapproving, smile lighting his countenance. "Sir?"

"I feel remiss. We haven't had a chance to talk about what happened this weekend, on any front. You were very brave in the village, and we are most grateful for your assistance." He steepled his hands, the rainbow blue sleeves falling down from his wrists. "It is never easy to face the enemy, whether within or without. While it may have been nice to have the Death Eaters for questioning, you undoubtedly did a great public service. Thank you."

Willow flushed a fetching shade of red, and ducked her head. "You're welcome; it was the least I could do." He smiled in return.

"And you looked lovely at the dance. I had no idea that you were so familiar with some of the more obscure wizarding customs." The silence stretched heavy pregnant between them. Willow met his eyes clearly, but offered no explanation. "An interesting choice of dancing partner as well. Young Mister Malfoy certainly has raised some questions this year. There's been an admirable restraint on his temper. How unusual for a Malfoy. Then there's his extracurricular activities. Always bending the rules, he's not been one to flagrantly flout them by flying around the castle at night."

Willow was frozen. A flicker from across the room caught her attention, and she found herself staring fixedly at the still revolving celestial universe. One loop after another, the polish brass worlds spun glimmering in the morning light. Dumbledore made a dismissing motion with his hands, and her attention snapped back to the wizard across the desk.

"Whatever your relationship with Mister Malfoy the Younger, I will have to trust you not to act in a fashion which will endanger any of the students. I welcomed you into our school, because you are of great aid to our cause. That said; I have no idea what transpired between you and Severus in the hallway after the dance. He has only been that rattled once before in my presence: when he came here seeking sanctuary those many years ago. Whatever you said or did to him, it left quite an impression. I have the utmost faith you will refrain from a repeat performance."

Unable to speak, Willow could only let out a squeak and nod her head. She could feel the shame and mortification burning its way down her hands, causing her fingertips to tingle and grow numb. No matter what I do, I can never escape. She sighed softly and gathered her voice to speak.

"Professor Dumbledore. I would never endanger any innocent, much less any of the students at this school. What transpired between Professor Snape and I was a lapse in judgment, but I believe we have come to an understanding. I look forward to working closely with him in the future; I believe we have a lot to offer each other." She took a deep breath. "As for my relationship with Draco? It remains to be seen. I know he's a Malfoy, he's made that abundantly clear, and he really knows nothing about me. I have to believe that everyone is redeemable; or I would not be able to live with myself."

The kindly wizard looked at the quiet desperation in her eyes, and his heart melted. "Sometimes I forget how difficult it is to be young, particularly young and powerful. I am not angry with you, child. I merely worry for you, and I forget how young you really are. Your eyes speak of such pain and experience, things only a few can relate to. Whatever you experienced in your world, you will be welcome in ours." He tilted his head and regarded her for a moment. "I understand your curiosity about the sorting. Each house had wonderful attributes, and I do believe you would have done well in whichever you chose, or whichever chose you."

They both fell silent, as Fawkes rustled and flew to Dumbledore's shoulders. The phoenix sang one pure note which cascaded over the room, reverberating and redoubling. Dumbledore smiled and reached to scratch his familiar's head. Ruffling the feathers, he turned back to Willow. "There is one more that would like to talk to you, if you feel up to it."

Willow nodded, "Minerva?"

He smiled. "Minerva."

*** ***

The morning classes were still in session, and she took her time traversing the corridors to the Transfiguration classroom. While this conversation didn't cause the butterflies in her stomach to become pterodactyls like the previous one had, she wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Minerva McGonagall had become her friend, and it is always hardest to face ones friends after falling down, or at least behaving strangely. Shaking her head, she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her robes. The door to the classroom was open, and she could hear the lecture continuing on.

Poking her head around the doorjamb, she sniffed in surprise as she discerned the occupants. The seventh year Slytherins were sharing a class with the Hufflepuffs. The subject appeared to be animating furniture for rearranging, and she laughed to see several young men tackling a chaise that had gotten slightly out of control. Finally subdued, the boys held it down while a rattled looking Professor McGonagall charmed it back to its normal state with a huff.

"I said turn it into a horse, not into horseplay! Now, if we can please refocus…" Willow let her attention wander as the lesson continued. She took a seat at the back of the room and surveyed the students. The thug like pair that always trailed along after Draco were snickering about something, but the class was otherwise quiet. They shifted slightly and she could see Draco's pale hair in the seat in front of them. She narrowed her eyes, but made no movement.

So what do you think to accomplish? Sweep me of my feet in one fell swoop? Do you even know anything about me? Why me? She worried her lip with her top teeth and let her gaze unfocus. Blinking, she suddenly sat up straight. I could swear I just saw… No. That's impossible! She unfocused her eyes again, like she was looking at one of those Magic Eye posters in the mall. And she saw it again, woven faintly through Draco's outline: the lean, predatory shape of a coyote, shimmering in and out of focus. She shook her head sharply and scanned the rest of the room.

Professor McGongall was leaning against the desk at the front of the room. As Willow's sight crossed the dais, she could see the form of a black and gray tabby, loosely clinging to the angular frame of the teacher. Willow stood up sharply, knocking over her chair in the process. Twenty five pairs of eyes turned her way, and she waved, blushing furiously.

"Sorry about that."

McGonagall smiled a tight smile and inclined her head. "We'll use the distraction provided to see what the students have learned. Mister Malfoy. Why don't you see what you can do with this coat rack." Draco smirked and turned it into a crane which gracefully stalked to the side of the room he indicated and he reformed it into a coat rack with a swish of his wand. He tilted his head in Willow's direction and arched his eyebrow.

Still irritated from the night before, but finding herself unable to work up and real anger, she couldn't help grinning Minerva's grudging "Nice work" before moving on to the next pupil. Draco turned away and sat back down, once again obscured by his cronies. Soon though, the class was over. The students filed out and as Draco passed Willow at the doorway, he paused. Their eyes locked and for the briefest second, Willow held her breath. Then he was gone, snarking something to the other Slytherins about the next Quidditch game as they marched to lunch.

Hesitant, Willow descended the stairs. "Hi. I thought I should talk to you about what happened at the dance." The older woman nodded and pulled out two chairs. "I heard that you used to dance beautifully with your husband. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to see that."

Minerva smiled ruefully. "It was lovely, and you would have liked him. I'm surprised at you though- do they dance that particular dance in your dimension?"

Willow shook her head. "No, and I have no idea how I managed. I really had never seen it done before, and didn't know a thing about it till after the dance was over. Draco wasn't into enlightening me ahead of time." She grimaced. "And don't think for a moment that little coyote is going to get away with it. Stupid Slytherins and their schemes." She looked hopefully at her friend. "I really didn't have any idea, and by no means meant to upset you. But believe me when I tell you nothing went wrong because of it. Draco may surprise you yet."

"I'm sure," she added sourly, "He has been cleaning up his act recently. But that doesn't mean that what transpired will be safe, or beneficial. Please take care of yourself. Many of our ways are different than yours, even different from the Muggles of this world. I wouldn't want you hurt. I just don't trust that boy…" She trailed off. Unspoken, the Malfoy family name and history hung in the air. As if reaching a decision, Willow reached out her hands and covered the teacher's. They regarded each other for a moment, and Willow broke the silence.

"One of the nice things about me is being eternal optimism girl. You know, laughing in the face of danger with the other Scoobies… I promise I'll be careful." She paused and fiddled with her sleeves. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Remember when we tried the animagus transformations before? I think I know why you were so upset… It's because I could take more than one form, right?" At the nod of affirmation, she continued. "I don't know why I could. Everything that I've been able to find indicated that the form was a reflection of the witch or wizard's personality. Perhaps there are more facets to me than one form can take, so my magic allows for a little more leniency."

Minerva pursed her lips. "That may be, and with whatever power that you have that eclipses ours, you may be able to actualize those differences."

"There's something else. When I made that racket earlier, it was because I noticed something. I could see your animagus form without you transforming. It was like it was a part of your shadow or soul or whatever. Other students, who don't transform, don't have that. I wonder… Has that ever happened before?"

The older woman was staring at her in shock, again. "Um, er. No. That's never been documented. How did it happen?"

Willow waved her hands a bit, "Well. I just sort of unfocused my eyes, like with those three-D pictures, you know the dot ones?" Minerva shook her head. "Oh. You have to kinda uncross or unfocus your eyes, and these pictures pop out. Anyway, that's like what happened, but now that I know it's there, I can look and see it superimposed on you. It's seriously weird."

"I would tend to agree. Do you think this would work with finding out whether others are animagi but not registered?"

Willow scrunched her brows and traced the outline of her lips with her fingertip. "It may, but I'd want a test case, that I don't know of ahead of time… Is there someone here who would work?" Minerva shook her head. "Then I guess we won't know. Come on. Its lunch time, whaddya say we go grab a bite to eat?" Smiling, Minerva stood; glad the tension between them was less, though she was still concerned. They followed the trail of hungry students to the Great Hall. Willow's eyes swept the crowd, slightly unfocused. Seeing nothing amiss, she turned her new and improved eyesight to the front table. Gasping, she stopped.

"What is it child? Do you see something?"

Nervously, Willow turned back to the other woman. "No, nothing. I'm sorry I startled you." She smiled brightly and grabbed a roll as she sat down, looking everywhere except at Professor Snape, glowering and eating quietly as the form of a black fox settled itself along his body.

Chapter 15

Willow was dreaming.

She was sure she was dreaming, because Tara was there. The golden light of afternoon streamed through the leaves on the trees and lit up the honey colored strands of her lover's hair. Taking one item at a time out of the picnic basket, Tara arranged lunch. Sighing, Willow leaned back on her elbows and drank in the warm California air. Frowning, she looked around again. I know this place. The broad meadow, overhung with branches, so beautiful it hurt. Willow turned questioning eyes to Tara, who merely smiled.

"This is your place, not mine. I only borrow it." She handed Willow a glass of tea. She raised her own glass to her lips, but did not drink. "Some things to be said; and here is where it began."

Willow sat bolt upright as a graceful fawn picked its way towards them. It placed one delicate hoof after another, scenting the air after each step. Willow watched entranced until a flickering shadow caught her eye. Along the edge of the meadow, in the semi-darkness of shade, two canine figures wove between the bushes. The larger was light silver, and Willow was almost sure she could hear it laughing. The smaller one was dark as night and slunk as silently as death. She held her breath as they crouched, preparing to spring into action.

Her fingers trembled as she held out her hand, but the fawn shied from her touch and climbed into Tara's lap. "This," Tara gestured to the space around them, "Is not for you anymore. It's time for you to move on." The fawn nuzzled her hand and Tara smiled fondly. "I wish we could stay, but you have more important things to do. Trust yourself. For in the end, that will be all you see, though not all you have."

Tears formed in Willow's eyes and she gathered her legs beneath her. "Why, Tara? Why come to me now?" Frowning, Tara shook her head.

"I will always come for you, but that's not what you ask. You have work to do, and you need me to release you."

A sob broke from Willow's throat. "No! Don't go! I can't let you go; you can't leave me!"

"Willow, honey, don't you understand? I'll never leave you. I would never leave you, but I release you. That's all you need to know." She smiled and offered Willow an apple. "You know what I must do now." With a sympathetic smile, she stroked the soft fur across the fawn's back. Sighing, Tara urged the fawn to stand, and pushed it out into the field. As one, the fox and coyote launched themselves from the underbrush. Willow screamed and made to run forward, but was halted by Tara's hand.

"Willow, stop. There is a balance to all things. That which is forbidden…" she shrugged, "May not always be. It all depends on the nature of the beast. Look for that."

The fawn's struggles ceased and she could barely breathe. Looking up, Tara was standing before her. Laying one hand on her head, Tara faded away with the light of the day, leaving Willow alone in the dark.

Willow jerked awake. The library was dark and empty. She rubbed her cheek where it rested on the pile of books, grimacing at the ink smudge that came away at her touch. Wonderful. I need to get better sleep. I bet I missed dinner. Sighing, she collected her things and made her way out of the library.

This week had been long, the hours watching the students in class dragged on, and she found herself more often retreating to the sanctuary of the library. Madame Pinze had long given up on trying to convince Willow to leave with the other students, and merely conjured up a key for Willow's use. Longing for the days of Scooby meetings and jelly doughnuts, she carefully locked the door behind her.

*** ***

Draco plastered the sneer across his face. Assured that their ringleader agreed, Crabbe and Goyle continued their discussion.

"So this summer. Right after graduation. My father says that there will be a large ceremony, and we'll take the mark then." Goyle turned somewhat dim, questioning eyes at Draco.

"Mmm, yes. That sounds about right. Once we're out of this goody-two-shoes institution, we can really show them what we're made of," he drawled. The conversation continued, ebbing and flowing around some of the senior Slytherins. He hadn't intended on staying this late in the common room, but sometimes it was good to remind the student body who was in charge. So, here he was stuck listening to this claptrap the other Death Eaters dolled out to their children. He was almost positive that they were following whatever rules his father had laid out, not that he'd bothered to ask. Finally fed up, he stood. "As fascinating as this is, I have some detentions to give out. Bet I can find some more of those whiny Hufflepuffs wandering around late at night. 'Not another night cleaning the trophies! Wail!' Pathetic." The crowd made the appropriate snarky remarks and he swirled out of the room, heading out into the dungeons.

He wasn't really actively searching for students to harass; he merely wished to get away. It was becoming harder and harder to nod along with the Mini-Death Eater camp. Not that he had any particular opinion on the subject matter, only on the Dark Lord himself. Useless old prat. Outlived his time. And Father, Merlin bless him, won't be happy when I refuse the mark. He sighed. Old arguments, well, as old as the summer anyway. Draco had no intention of playing second fiddle to his father for the rest of his existence, dark power or no, which meant no Lord Voldemort boot licking in the future. I've found something I'd much rather lick, and I'm sure it will taste considerably better than old Snake Face's boots, he snickered slightly

Deciding to forgo the nightly ritual of stalking the unfortunate, he headed back to his rooms. Another advantage to Head Boy, my own rooms, with my own mini laboratory. If I'd paid attention, I'd have asked Father for this long ago. Shaking his head, he bent down on his knees and scrabbled under the bed. Finally finding what he was looking for, he hauled the box to the center of the room. He took out the contents one by one, saving the small box from Nimela's Glitters and the book from his mother for last.

Grinning he sorted ingredients and found the right page of the book. Tonight was as good a time as any to try the spell and he gathered his magic to him carefully. "Spirits of the lost and forgotten, bound to hear my call…" The room flickered, and the candles burned brighter. Satisfied, Draco continued.

*** ***

Grim light created sucking shadows amongst the jars and containers. It was never cheery in the dungeons, and the potions classroom could become downright depressing in the winter. Uncaring, Snape added another pinch to the bubbling cauldron and gave it a cursory swirl while reading over a passage in large leather bound book. Or at least Willow thought it was leather.

She'd wandered down to the dungeons in search of comfort. Why she chose the dungeons, she had no idea. Rattled from her dream, she retreated to the darker places of the castle, perhaps searching places that her bruised soul would feel comfortable. Now she merely lurked in a corner of the classroom, watching Professor Snape's graceful, pale fingers weave over the potion in a complicated dance.

Seeing his form at lunch earlier that week had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Combined with the passage about coyotes, it just seemed too much of a coincidence for her to ignore. Ignoring coincidences on Hellmouths got you dead. This might not be a Hellmouth, but she didn't want to take any chances. She shifted slightly, and the faint sound caused Snape to raise his head. A heartbeat went by and he turned to meet her eyes.

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to help me?" Willow started slightly, but walked forward to the work bench. "You've a hand for potions, a scientific mind I suppose. Cut these up, and measure them into even piles." Grateful for the distraction, she set about slicing dandelion roots perfectly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the effortless motion of Snape twisting his hair back behind his ears. Mortified, she heard herself say, "So, what's with the hair. I mean, you're a handsome guy, you even look a bit like a movie star back home…" she trailed off. Red faced, she resumed cutting the roots.

He merely arched an eyebrow and went back to reading. After a small break, he took a deep breath. "I don't think anyone has ever compared me to a movie star." He smiled a bit ruefully. "Then again, most people don't take the liberty of commenting on my personal appearance. Though, you are not most people, are you?" Willow wasn't sure what to say, so she merely stayed quiet. Adding the roots, Snape handed her another set of plants to chop up.

"If you were referring to my personal grooming, I honestly don't give it much thought. With all the awful things in the world today, the state of my coiffeure isn't top on the list." He added quietly, "But if it makes you happy, I'll see what I can do." Holding her breath, Willow waited for the sarcastic comment. Hearing none, she raised her head. He was looking at her with the strangest expression on his face. "I don't know what it is about you. I don't think I'll ever understand. One day I want to banish you from this world. The next, I want to protect you from all the evils out there, knowing full well that you know them as well as I do, yet choose to fight them anyway." He shook his head. "What an enigma."

Willow could feel tears tickling the back of her eyelids. "Um, thanks I think. I'm sorry I said anything. It really was rude."

He snorted. "Yes it was. But you're American. Certain allowances must be made."

"Hey!"

He chuckled quietly as he added the new ingredients. "Well, this has to sit for a few minutes. Can I offer you some tea? I noticed you missed dinner. Again." Nodding, he led the way to his office, summoning a pot of tea from the fireplace, he poured two cups. "I think it's also safe to say you didn't come down here to chop roots and bulbs."

She accepted the cup and sat down. "I had a dream." He merely regarded her impassively. "I know it sounds strange, but where I come from there are dreams and then there are 'dreams'. Somehow I think this was one of the latter. But, I'm not sure I'm supposed to have them. Then only other time something like this happened, the First Slayer tried to kill me, and others, in our dreams because we tapped into the primal power outlet to destroy Adam. Buffy gets Slayer dreams that are supposed to help her fight evil and all that. But I'm not one of those hero types. I dunno."

"I also don't know why you Americans persist in butchering our language. But if you think it's important, then it most likely is. Dreams are not unknown to us, but usually are the domain of seers. Though, not Trelawney type seers." He rolled his eyes. "Would you like to tell me what it was about?"

Blanching, Willow shook her head. "Um, not really. Suffice it to say, Tara- remember Tara? - was there, and reminded me what I had done in the past. And she kept saying she released me." She started to tear up again. "I don't know why I'm going all weepy on you. I'm sorry. I just… I dunno. It's hard seeing her again, especially since she felt so real." She looked up from under trembling lashes. "And I think you were in the dream too." He motioned for her to continue. "Well, I think both you and Draco were, but not as you are now, rather… um… in your other forms…" She met his eyes, expecting a reaction. His pupils flared, but he was outwardly calm.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Fidgeting, she continued. "I guess you know this has been sort of a weird past couple of days. Anyway, I learned a new trick. You know I can see auras, right? Well, this is just a different version of that. I can see animagus forms for people who possess them - like you for instance. You're a black fox."

Snape was frozen, his tea cup halfway to his lips. Neither of them moved a muscle until he set the cup back down on the desk. "What do you know of that," he hissed; his eyes narrow.

Raising her hands in a gesture of peace, Willow hastened to explain. "Oh! I haven't told anyone, if that's what you're worried about. I only noticed on Monday, and I've been debating about telling you all week." She looked miserable. "Actually, I was hoping I never would have to. I hate secrets, and I'm no good at them. But you know that already."

He had relaxed slightly, but his eyes were glittering dangerously. "And what, pray tell, was I doing in your dream. In you dream with Mr. Malfoy, I might add."

"You were stalking the fawn." Her wide green eyes met his, and she trembled. "I won't explain more than that. You, the fox, and Draco, the coyote, were stalking the fawn. And Tara allowed you to."

"And this fawn has some significance to you? This is the fawn you showed me the other night, related to the Mother?"

"Yes." She glared at him, despite her uneasiness, and refused to explain further.

"I see. And whatever we did has upset you, so you sought me out. Why not Malfoy?" He sneered, "Since you two have become so close?" She flinched, but clamped her mouth shut. "Well. What do you expect me to do about it?"

"I don't have any idea. I thought, since you've had more experience in the magic of this world, you'd help explain it to me. And I think you should read this." She thrust a worn book at him, and he flicked a bewildered glance in her direction. "It's a naming creation myth. And it's a little too close for comfort. Just read it."

They glared at each other for a few more minutes, until Snape stood suddenly and strode back out into the laboratory. She watched him stir the cauldron with rough jerks a few times before he turned to face her, still leaning against the lab bench.

"I am not sure who knows about the fox. It is recent, if you must know. I am trapped here, the school and the town. I'm safe under Dumbledore's protection, but if I leave?" He raised his arms, outstretched, "I am a fair target for any Death Eater who wants to make Voldemort happy. As a fox, I have a little more freedom." Willow nodded and he continued. "I do what I can. But sometimes, I just have to get away. This was the form allowed to me." He faced away from her once again. "I don't know why I was in your dream, with or without Draco Malfoy. I'll read your myth, but don't expect any blinding insights. I'm not some guru with all the answers, so don't hope for them." The last bit was delivered with such harsh bitterness that Willow's heart went out to him. "I think it's safe to assume that our world is heading for some interesting times. We must do what we can." He waved his hand in dismissal, and Willow slipped out the door to the hallway. As the door shut, she leaned against it heavily, sliding to the floor, head in hands.

*** ***

The candles blew out, and Draco was knocked across his room. Groaning, he looked around for his wand. Finding it, he relit the candles, as well as the fire in the grate. The room was windblown, but his workspace was strangely untouched. Stretching his exhausted muscles, he stumbled back to the table.

Most of his early experience in Dark Magic had been under his father's direct tutelage. In the past years, he'd experimented on his own, nothing serious, or too damning, but nothing had prepared him for this. He wasn't even sure it qualified as Dark Magic, only that it hadn't been used since the dark ages, and probably for good reason. It had required intense concentration and discipline, something that most wizards lacked, and Draco was pleased that it appeared he'd pulled it off. Good old Malfoy determination. Glad to see you pulled through. He wouldn't know for sure though, until he'd made his real play, but for now, he was delighted that he hadn't obliterated the castle, or himself. He'd hate to have to explain that one to his mother.

A wave of nausea and exhaustion hit, and he retched, gripping the table with pale, strained fingers. The box from Nimela's was glowing slightly and he held it up in the light. Breathing deep in relief, he staggered to the bed, the box clutched close. He fell across the covers, curled fetally with eyes squeezed shut against the pain.


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