Chapter 18: Halloween and Other Odd Events (Patreon)

My natural expectation during the Halloween feast was for something unforeseeably awful to occur. There was no Basilisk, and Ginny Weasley, if she did have the diary, was under observation by Dumbledore, me, and, given that it was Dumbledore, I expected the elves and portraits were also keeping an eye on her.

Still, a part of me was still unsure if that was the correct move, even if Dumbledore was content to wait and see what the move was regarding the diary, and I had no particular care for Ginny Weasley in of herself.

But I assumed Dumbledore had a reason for this as well, and if it didn’t endanger anyone I cared for, I was not overly concerned.

So I poked solemnly at the desserts before me, not from any aversion to taste, or perhaps put more correctly, not an aversion to the taste of them, but the slow realization that the taste of food did not compare to magic. Even very good food like this.

I did not seem to be the only one unimpressed by the current display. Iris was looking down at her own food, a soft frown turning pouty red lips downward, framed by her pale, almost dismayed face.

I had potentially been a bad friend that day, I realized. I had been caught up thinking of my own failure and hadn’t given the same mind to Iris and what she knew this day meant for her. What she now may realize even more so, exposed to Sirius and me, and what family we could give.

“Hey,” I murmured quietly, and despite the low tone of my voice, it drew Iris’s attention, and she startled a bit, her curls bouncing with the movement.

“Ares,” she bit back her voice carefully titrated low despite her surprise, “What is it?” Then her cheeks flushed brilliantly, and she shook her head, embarrassed. “Sorry, that came off as rude,” she mumbled quietly.

I shook my head, giving the girl a small smile, “I think I’ve eaten enough dessert for a lifetime; I want to head back to the dorm.”

Iris's emerald eyes twitched away for a moment, rapidly looking at our friends who were engrossed in a deep discussion somehow involving a taste test between French and English desserts.

She nodded her head slowly, and then something sly seemed to flit through her suddenly vivacious green eyes as she held up a finger to her lips, a smile twisting them upward.

Her eyes flicked away from the table, and she raised an eyebrow at me.

I suppressed a smile, my hand finding my wand in its robes because I knew I would need finer manipulation for this.

It wasn’t any spell that I had spent time learning, but it was in the area. A charm to ignore and dismiss an object, an attention slider which could be overcome easily if someone was looking, but for this moment it was fine.

The magic flicked over us, and while there was no visual change, Iris seemed to get a hint as I grabbed her hand, and we both stood together, exiting the hall, the only one whose eyes tracked us being Dumbledore’s, whose attention I spotted with my own magic and shared a small smile with the man who might be considered a mentor of some such.

Blue and cloudy grey collided like a strange summer's day sky before I turned as Iris tugged me along.

We exited the Great Hall through the slightly cracked door, and I followed Iris as she wandered seemingly freely through the halls, the sound of the feast becoming fainter and fainter as we walked away.

Finally, perhaps after she felt enough distance had passed, Iris spoke, her voice gentle and low, “Thanks, Ares,” she said quietly, “I know everyone likes celebrating the day, but-” she shrugged her shoulders almost helplessly.

A soft but sad smile emerged onto my face. “You don’t need to explain yourself, Iris,” I shook my head, “And you’re completely right to feel the way you do,” I said softly.

“Why’d you come with me?” Iris asked softly.

“Someone’s got to watch out for trolls,” I replied easily.

Iris raised an eyebrow at me, her lips dipping into a small frown. “Stop it, I want to be serious,” she said quietly.

Oh, bugger.

Still, if anyone deserved it, it was her.

“It’s nothing I haven’t said before,” the words quiet, unsure when they were coming out of my mouth to her, “You know that I care for you,” I said.

Iris nodded her head slowly, “Care,” she said quietly, mirroring the word, almost ponderingly to herself. We continued walking up the stairs, and I noted we were drifting to the Northern Tower.

“Is it enough?” I finally asked quietly, tensions and nausea beginning to stir my gut, unsure in that moment what I wanted her to say.

Iris flashed me a ruby smile and shrugged her shoulders casually but didn’t say anything, and we continued walking, and despite the uncertainty of the moment, there was still something strangely comfortable about it.

The sound of our footsteps echoed off the interior of the tower we climbed until finally we emerged into the cold open air biting at our cheeks.

My hand was halfway through the motion warming charm before Iris settled into my side, nestling into it, a soft warm spot against me.

I looked at her, and she just smiled softly and shook her head. I shrugged and nodded.

We stood in the icy cold chill of the end of October, and for some reason my breath felt oddly constrained in my chest.

Iris hummed a couple of musical notes as if recalling something to herself, “What would you do if I said that it wasn’t?” she asked, her voice edging around my ears, curling into them with a force I didn’t understand.

I frowned, “Iris,” I said quietly, my mind fully locking into occlumency, “I know that this day is hard for you-“

“It is,” Iris nodded her head, interrupting me, “But that’s not why I’ve spent the day avoiding everyone.”

I waited, looking at the girl who seemed to be searching for words.

“I spent the day avoiding everyone because today was the day I didn’t feel sad like I did last year,” Iris shook her head, her words quiet, “I thought something was wrong with me. I discovered the day I lost my parents, and now a little more than a year later I’m okay, I’m a bit down but I’m okay,” she smiled softly at me and I found myself locked into her emerald’s the skies stars reflecting against her eyes faintly.

“I’m-“ I hesitated at a loss for words, as I couldn’t yet tell how Iris felt about her own words.

Iris sucked in a deep breath and turned to lock eyes with me, “Ares, I need you to tell me something, and I need it to be the truth.”

She couldn’t be-

Slowly, against my better judgment, I nodded my head, “Anything, Iris; you know that.”

Iris sucked in another deep breath, leaning back and forth on her feet, still staring at me, “Antares Polaris Black, are you in love with me?”

My heart clenched, felt literally seized in my chest, my breath froze, my stomach sank, yet at the same time felt oddly floaty.

Iris’s lips firmed as she stared hard at me. “Because I am so desperately in love with you,” she said quietly.

“Iris,” the words left my lips quietly, unsure of what to say but her name.

Iris smiled at me, and I could see her emerald eyes were starting to become watery, and the uptick at the end of her voice- what I had been sure of died in this moment.

Ignore Iris’s feelings for her own good? Who was I really protecting?

“I love you, Iris,” I said quietly, the words breaking free of my lips before I could really think, “I think I have since the first day I first met you,” I finished the words, finally tumbling free of my own lips.

Iris’s eyes that had been glimmering widened, and she slammed her hands to her mouth as what sounded like a muffled scream came from her lips like a wounded animal; quickly, she pulled her hands from her lips, almost visibly shaking, “Really?” her words came from her lips like a hoarse whisper.

I didn’t have a single moment to reply as Iris’s arm lashed up, wrapping around my neck and pulling our lips together into a kiss.

It was warm, wet, salty from her tears, lips beginning to chap from the wind mashing against mine.

It also made my heart feel like it had been strangled in my chest, as warmth began to trickle through me.

Minutes trickled by before Iris slowly drew back, drawing in small breaths quickly as she looked up at me, the taste of vanilla beginning to churn the air around us, her magic agitating with her emotions.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said quietly, her breath ghosting against my lips.

“Why?” I murmured back.

“Because it made me want to do it again,” Iris replied softly.

She stood up on her tiptoes again, pressing a softer and gentler kiss to my lips, pulling her arms tightly about me, quidditch-hardened, taut muscles pressing against me along with other softer bits of flesh

She pulled back again, and her darkened emerald stared at me quietly for a long moment. “I-“ she hesitated, “I want us to date,” she hesitated and then shook her head searching for something, “I mean properly as well, you call me your girlfriend, like that!” her cheeks reddened, but she continued to glare at me fiercely.

I nodded my head even as I thought back to Fleur’s words, even as my heart constricted again in my chest as I realized what this meant for Fleur; she said she didn’t care, but was that true?

“Yeah, I can do that,” I said quietly.

Iris nodded her head, her gaze averting and beginning to stare at my chest. “Well,” she murmured quietly.

I frowned down at her before I realized what she wanted and had to restrain a small smile from curving my lips, “Iris Lily Potter, would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?” I asked.

I felt Iris stiffen as I said her name before she looked up, a small pout beginning to form on her face, “You’re making fun of me,” she mumbled, though I could see a smile beginning to try and tear free of her lips.

“I would never,” I replied.

Iris scowled harder at me, “You promised to never lie,” she said warningly.

“I said I would only do so in your best interest,” I corrected.

We looked at each other for a long moment before Iris burst into a fit of giggles, which she immediately tried to suppress by burying her face in my chest.

“What’s so funny?” I asked with my own small real smile curving up my lips.

Iris kept giggling. “I was so scared,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what I would do if you rejected me,” her words vibrating against me.

With her face against my chest, I still kept my face controlled so that she wouldn’t see a small frown that attempted to curl across it.

“I’m sorry you were so scared,” I replied honestly, “I would never hurt you, Iris, though, even if I didn’t return your feelings.”

Iris shrugged, a warm, peaceful look on her face. “I know, but it was still scary,” she shook her head almost idly. “I think I’d take Voldemort again,” she admitted.

“Oh?” I smiled, amused at the smaller girl. “You’ve become a Master of the latest spells I’ve taught you so quickly?” I replied.

Iris rolled her eyes and shot me a dry look that became more intense as she regarded me, treating me to a somehow molten emerald, “No, never, you’ll have to keep giving me lessons, maybe even more often now. I think I’m beginning to struggle in potion making; you’ll have to give me private lessons every night this coming week.”

I smiled in amusement, though I was a little taken aback by the intensity; Iris usually was a bit more reserved.

-

I felt the sensation of something snapping in my gut and my eyes opened as Dumbledore’s magic filtered through my mouth, and I opened my eyes, surprised for a moment to be staring at my bed’s canopy and even more surprised that I wasn’t the only one in my bed despite my memory distinctly informing me I had indeed gone to sleep that night by myself, an event that occurred with such frequency I felt if even I didn’t have Occlumency I would remember the opposite event occurring regardless.

Clinging to me tightly, submerging my arm in two soft cushions that sent my heart rate sky-rocketing for an inappropriate reason, Iris lay unconscious on the bed next to me, seemingly attempting to engulf me with herself given how she was stretched across me.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was also different this time in a way I couldn’t really explain.

Under normal circumstances, the reasonable option of going back to sleep was struck out as Dumbledore’s magic nudged gently against me and I remembered in my sleep-fogged brain just exactly what that magic sensation of snapping meant, and sent a current back to him in acknowledgment even as I tried to figure out how exactly to get out of bed.

Slowly I began to edge out from underneath Iris, hesitantly attempting to shift my limbs out from underneath her. I didn’t get far before my arm searching for freedom was snatched back.

A part of me desperately contemplated inventing an actual switching spell for a moment.

A soft breath gusted into my ear, and I heard Iris whisper sleepily to me, “Where’re you going, Ares?”

“There’s something I need to take care of,” I responded, attempting to gently pry her off me.

“Dangerous?” Iris mumbled into my neck, burying her face against me in a way that made my chest clench pleasantly.

Considering it was Dumbledore and said wizard's track record, “Maybe?” I shrugged and finally managed to get Iris’s limbs pried off me, but only because the girl had lazily summoned her invisibility cloak into her hands from where she had left it on the floor.

“Let’s go,” then she said, raising an eyebrow almost challengingly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at the girl, caught a little off guard and about to respond in the negative before I felt Dumbledore nudge me again, and from the gentleness but persistent nature of the magic I could determine that while indeed I should come soon, whatever this was it wouldn’t be dangerous.

I nodded my head, and something like a smile but fiercer crossed Iris’s face, and she stood up, swinging her cloak around her shoulders.

I reached out a hand, which she grabbed, and then I let invisibility slide onto me with a flex of my magic and then began to pull Iris along with me, following the trail of Dumbledore’s magic with my mouth out of my dorm, then the common room and into the broader Castle, finding myself frowning as we entered the corridor of the Second Floor Girls’ Bathroom and the magic trail lead inside.

I stepped in through the door and immediately had to shift around the frozen statue of a short, slim, black-haired girl with a diary pressed closely to her chest while Dumbledore stood calmly crouched down for some reason, poking with his wand tip against one of the sinks.

I flickered into sight, dropping my spell, and nodded at the man who continued to poke at the sinks with his wand in the way an old man fiddled with an equally weathered deck of cards.

“Who the hell is this?” I said somewhat bluntly, and I realized my voice was a bit sharper than it needed to be, but on the other hand, waiting and seeing had done its own wonders on my nerves, only to be proved wrong here. “I mean, seriously, who the bloody hell is this?” my voice rose slightly, and Dumbledore raised an interested eyebrow at me.

I glared at him, not willing to take the chastisement right now, and Dumbledore turned away, his voice light, almost cheerful, “My faith is ever the same if you were curious, but I rather suspected something must change; you do make waves, my young friend. This is a Second-Year Slytherin Girl named Tracey Davis; imagine my surprise this morning to wake and find her here caught in our trap.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath as something like tension released in my gut while something small tangled inside it as well as I realized; this meant that Ginny did not deserve the grace I had given her, which meant she had proved just what kind of friend she was to Luna.

My eyes flickered about, opening my mouth a bit wider as I concentrated past the leaf attempting to find a trace from the diary but noticing that Tracey’s own residue was too strong to taste anything.

“Good evening to you as well, Ms. Potter,” Dumbledore continued, turning to next to me, his left hand fiddling oddly with his wand for a moment, “I hope that I have not disturbed the end of a magical night?” he replied, his lips resolving into a soft half smile.

Iris did not emerge for a long moment, and I could practically feel her flush of embarrassment even though I knew she should be completely concealed, until she pulled her head free of the cloak, looking a bit awkward, “I uh, didn’t know he was coming to see you, Professor,” she said, notably still not actually apologizing for her actions.

“No harm done,” Dumbledore said, amused before looking back at me, “As it stands, this is perhaps an opportune time to reveal a number of mysteries.”

Dumbledore stepped forward and lightly plucked the diary free from the girl’s hands, looking down with interest at it. “This is the third item that has been presented before me,” he said, looking at Iris with a small frown, “That I believe to contain the piece of the soul of a man who is now known to us as Lord Voldemort.”

Iris frowned, looking down for a moment. “So that’s why he’s still alive then?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore hummed, “and not only that, it has begun to feed on Ms. Davis’s magic, I believe, in a function that all of them have to begin the process of bringing him back from his current existence.”

Iris nodded, then turned to frown at me, “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

I grimaced but met her eyes. “I was going to at some point; I just,” I shook my head, “I think I told myself I was protecting you, but in reality I think I was just protecting myself,” I said, my words echoing somewhat uselessly against the wall of the bathroom.

Iris' head tilted, and she regarded me in thought before she shrugged her shoulders, looking back at the frozen girl, “So these items-“ she began,

“Horcruxes,” I interjected almost awkwardly, and Iris nodded her head.

“Horcruxes, what are they exactly?” Iris asked curiously.

Dumbledore nodded at me as a teacher would any student signaling for them to demonstrate their knowledge by explanation to another student.

“These are items used to contain the fragments of a soul,” I said, “While they exist, the person whose soul it is cannot truly die.”

Iris' eyes widened a bit, though she still looked rather calm, all things considered, “And Voldemort, he had at least three?” she asked.

“We have destroyed two others aside from the one in my hand,” Dumbledore said calmly, “But yes, we do believe there to be more.” he said such with such certain implacability my momentary guilt at knowing Iris was one of those, and we weren’t telling her yet, edged at me. Yet despite my own recent failure in dealing with it, I was sure that there was a solution that didn’t require any risk of a killing curse, and even if I did tell Iris that, all it would do was put a weight on her actions, a knowledge that, at least in the near term, couldn’t be dealt with easily.

All it would do is scare her, or worse, make her think about actively seeking a death at the hands of Voldemort, which, as far as I was concerned, was not going to be happening.

“This third one,” Iris asked, “What exactly was it doing?”

“Well, I believe it was attempting the beginnings of a possession, so had convinced the girl to go here to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets to begin to attempt to gain a hold,” Dumbledore said, then upon seeing Iris’s questioning gaze he continued, “the Chamber of Secrets being the place where Slytherin’s Monster once resided.”

Iris nodded along, “Your basilisk?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded, slowly getting more and more taken aback by how almost nonchalant Iris seemed.

Iris frowned, rubbing her chin almost idly, before shaking her head, seemingly befuddled, “I think I know what those old ladies on the telly were talking about when they said they were in shock,” she said calmly.

We waited there as Iris seemed to gather herself, her face twisting through various amalgamations of expressions. “So is Tracey going to be okay?” she finally asked.

Those weren’t the words I was expecting, but Dumbledore was quick to reply on this one: “Ms. Davis will be fine, though perhaps I need to remind students not to talk to objects that talk back to you,” he stroked his beard, his mouth furrowing downward as he shook his head, mumbling several things under his breath.

Iris nodded her head before glancing at Tracey, “I assume she can’t hear us?” she asked.

Dumbledore dipped his head in acknowledgment, “You assume correctly.”

Finally, Iris turned to me, crossing her arms over her stomach, dark red sweater compressing with the motions, “Is this everything?” she asked, seemingly curious.

Far from it, and while she had given me permission to lie, I wanted to try something else in this moment, “There’s more I suspect,” I said, “But now isn’t the time for it, maybe once there’s more certainty.”

“Anything to do with how you’ve been burning yourself out?” asked Iris, frowning a small thing, her face oddly serious.

I shrugged, giving the girl a small smile, not fake, but not happy, pained, “Yeah,” I admitted lightly.

Iris sighed, and I heard the exasperation in her voice just as I heard the warm fondness; she reached up a hand and grabbed my cheek, gently kneading it between her fingers before she withdrew it, “I’m purposely not saying it again,” she said and shook her head to look at Dumbledore her look becoming stormy and I tasted the vanilla as it flooded through the room.

Dumbledore's warm electric blues met Iris’s darkening emeralds.

“What is it with the Professors of Hogwarts?” she frowned and shook her head and corrected, “The Wizarding world treating my-“ Iris hesitated almost imperceptibly for the briefest of moments as a small burst of something flashed through her emerald eyes, “boyfriend,” she enunciated clearly, “As the solution for its incompetence. Is there ancient wizarding law that says the problems of Adult and Elder Wizards are to be dealt with exclusively by fourteen year olds?” she asked sweetly her smile stretching across her face like a gash, teeth glinting.

Dumbledore did not seem affected in the slightest. “Ares and I made an agreement,” he said, a gentle smile on his face.

Iris scowled, “His Father-“ she began.

Dumbledore raised a hand gently, his smile still the same, “Is aware of mine and Ares’s cooperative efforts. He is absolutely supportive of our goals.”

Iris's scowl deepened, and she shook her head, “It’s not right,” she said quietly. “You can’t use Ares like this.” She looked almost startled as she said the words, but then her expression firmed, and she narrowed her eyes at Dumbledore, “I don’t care that you believe this is necessary. Ares is mine. You don’t get to put his life at risk just because he’s convenient and useful.”

My lips were partially open as she said those words, and given my own recent exposure to dark magic, I felt the familiar acrid taste flicker over my tongue as she looked at Dumbledore and I frowned. There it was again, and as my eyes flickered over Iris’s emeralds, I saw something yawning and cavernous beyond them for the first time.

Oh.

I reached out and settled my hand on Iris’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” I said even as I felt her stiffen then relax against me, “I wasn’t forced into anything, but-“ I gently turned her to face me, emerald meeting grey eyes darkened by lack of ambient light, “I need to do these things. Voldemort isn’t gone; he hasn’t been stopped.”

Iris looked up at me, and she shook her head. “Ares,” she mumbled, quietly grimacing. “He already took my parents from me; I know how I should feel; I should want vengeance.” Her eyes were locked into mine. “And I do, but I won’t sacrifice what I’ve gained just to do so.”

I smiled almost sadly at the girl. “I understand, Iris, but when Voldemort returns, he’s going to be after you; you’re absolute proof of resistance against him, and he’ll never let you live in peace while either of you live; the only way this ends is Voldemort annihilated from existence.”

Iris’s cheeks turned a light pink, though I couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or embarrassment. “You’re going to double my training,” she narrowed her eyes at me.

I frowned, “That might be a bit-“

Iris shook her head, “You’re going to because you know how I’ll feel if I lose you when there’s something I could’ve done, that, or I’ll drop Quidditch and just begin to practice on my own all the time like you.”

I held up an interrupting hand frantically, already hating the direction of this conversation, “No! I have no issue training you more,” I attempted to hastily clarify, “I just want to be clear after a certain point, magical training repetitively doesn’t work; the mind and body need time for rest and recovery.”

“Do you actually spend any time recovering?” Iris raised her eyebrow at me challengingly.

I nodded my head and replied honestly, “I spend time with you and the rest of our friends; while I read, it’s not all textbooks, and not even all my magic practice is for combat’s sake; I just really like magic.”

Iris nodded slowly, still eyeing me like a woman who expected to be tricked. “You’re not getting out of this,” she emphasized. “You’re going to be training me more if you ever expect a peaceful moment again,” she said, calmly smiling, her eyes gleaming.

I didn’t need to look at Dumbledore to get the sense that the man was amused by the current scene just from the current agitation of his magic.

“Ah, young love,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

Damn him.

-

Hermione awoke as she did most days from faint awareness to complete consciousness in the matter of a second. Sleep was time wasted away from practice and books, and Hermione had known since Professor McGonagall had transformed her parents’ couch into a pig that there was literally nothing more important.

This training had made Hermione observational to the extreme, such that seeing Iris’s curtain drawn at this time of the morning was, to put it mildly, out of character for her. Some days Hermione didn’t think that her friend even cared to acknowledge that this was the dorm she was supposed to sleep in and paid no care to how much interference Hermione had to run for her.

Honestly. Who thought giving a teenage girl an invisibility cloak was a good idea?

Hermione’s lips twisted up, as familiar warmth ran through her as she thought of her best friend, even as she rolled somewhat gracelessly to her feet, combing her bushy hair back and reached out to the curtains to peel it back slightly, only for her smile to become slightly more fixed as she put her head through the curtains.

Iris was indeed in bed, and she wasn’t the only one; the girl was sprawled out in a massive starfish across Ares’, whose eyes opened and flicked to her only to widen and suppress a visible wince.

“It’s not what it looks like-“

Hermione interrupted, “Oh my god, I hope you guys used protection,” she whisper-shrieked, then she frowned in thought, “Do wizards have protection?” she asked her voice drawing now to contemplation, now befuddled by the thought, would the library-

Ares visibly winced at her exclamation. “Please,” he said, “We didn’t do that.” He hesitated, glancing down at the soundly sleeping Iris before he said calmly, “Iris didn’t want to be alone last night is all,” he said, his eyes averting from both of them and affixing to the curtain.

Hermione’s heart seized in her chest, and she had to restrain a muffled groan at how heartbreakingly handsome his face looked right now, she really didn’t think of him that way; she didn’t, but sometimes her friend's looks would overcome her for a moment and she found herself idly contemplating what it would be like if her best friend wasn’t in love with him.

In an Academic sense.

Hermione released a pleased breath before she frowned at him, “But seriously, you should probably find out what wizards use for protection.” She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Ares, not attempting to sound chiding, though it likely broached that marker, and Hermione felt her gut twisting as once more the controlling know-it-all girl she was took control for a brief moment.

“I know a couple actually,” Ares admitted, his cheeks gaining a faint color to them as he looked away, “Just in case, well, you know-“ he shrugged awkwardly, a move completely unlike him.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, pressing a hand to her chest, idly wincing as she ignored the sensitive growing tissue that she accidentally impacted with more force than she had intended.

“Oh, thank god, I don’t know what I was going to do otherwise,” Hermione said, gasping again, her hand rising to play with the silver cross of metal that always sat underneath her shirt.

“Live in perpetual fear I get Iris pregnant?” Ares asked curiously, his arms crossing as he grinned, seemingly proud of his comment.

“Ares, if you get Iris pregnant, you will be marrying her,” Hermione scowled, “don’t joke about that.”

Ares shrugged an idle smile, turning his face, “Doesn’t sound so bad,” he replied quietly, so quietly Hermione wasn’t sure she should have even heard it.

Hermione's gut clenched in a difficult-to-understand way, and she found herself regarding Ares, a small frown twisting her face down, not at the joke but as another wave of concern edged at her.

“Is she okay?” Hermione asked, biting her lip, looking down at her friend, concerned, before seeing Ares look confused and realizing she needed to elaborate, “I mean, I bet it was some conversation; I can imagine she may have even gotten somewhat emotional.”

Ares’s pale grey widened, and he seemed to be in a small degree of thought, and Hermione waited.

“Hermione, what the fuck are you talking about?” Ares said bluntly, staring at Hermione with an unreadable look on his face.

Hermione felt her cheeks heating up even as she startled from Ares’s abrupt, unlike him, profanity, and she began to look to the side of his head out of sheer embarrassment. “The fact you’re in,” she hesitated before taking a deep breath, “a relationship,” she whispered as if uttering the word was sacrilegious.

Ares blinked, then blinked again. “Yeah,” he said, tasting the words slowly through his teeth, “Yeah, um, she got a bit emotional, but we’re good, great even,” his eyes were very fixatedly staring at her, and Hermione didn’t really know how to respond to that.

“That’s good,” she nodded her head a couple of times, “really good,” she smiled, beaming happily at her friend, “I’m so glad you’ve gotten over your own hangups about it, Ares; I’m really proud of you,” she smiled at her friend warmly.

“You know me,” Ares gave her his signature half smile, “Really great at that,” he smirked even as Hermione scowled at her friend, unable to let it slide.

“Honestly,” she huffed, “I don’t see what Iris finds so entrancing about you; physically, you're attractive enough, I suppose, but I’ve truly never seen a boy more entranced by his own arrogance,” she said.

“Perhaps it’s my rakish charm?” Ares frowned, rubbing his mouth almost thoughtfully as he looked to be genuinely considering it. “I’m told it runs in the family,” he smirked, and for some reason it actually read as a real smile to Hermione.

Hermione groaned as an unwilling smile spread across her face in response, “Either way, however you got past the charms to get in here, you need to find an exit before anyone else wakes up.”

Ares shrugged, then shot her a wink, “I don’t know; imagine how my legend would grow,” he said, stroking his chin in an oddly considering manner, “Who knows what a Dark Lord such as I could do with this new power?”

Hermione sighed, shaking her head, “It was bad enough when Iris did it, and now you’re following her home; you’re such a stray,” she remarked, her smile stretching wider, her chest absolutely bubbling with warmth.

Ares shrugged, then simply vanished into the air without a trace. Hermione started a bit and crossed her arms. “It’s not funny, Ares,” she pouted into the air, straining her lips downward away from her prior smile, because she would be damned if he got away with this.

“It’s a little funny,” Ares remarked next to her ear, and she stifled a shriek and spun around only to, of course, see nothing.

Hermione scowled only to be brought back to attention by her best friend stirring in her bed, sleepily, her eyes opening lazily as she looked about and frowned, “Where’s Ares?” she mumbled tiredly.

Hermione frowned down at her friend, “Honestly, Iris, I can’t believe you let him into the dorm;” she hesitated making sure she said the right thing first, before her real question split forth, “How’d he even do it?”

Iris shrugged, “I dunno.” She yawned cavernously, shaking her head befuddled. “I told him he was sleeping in my bed one way or another tonight, so he seemed to focus and then glowed that violet vorpal light, and then he said he would meet me up here before he disappeared.”

“Iris,” Hermione attempted to say calmly, “You can’t bring boys up to our room; it’s against the rules.” She smiled pleasantly at her friend.

Iris frowned, crossing her arms, “It’s a stupid, dumb rule that’s only in place because wizards have the same idea of propriety that they did in the Middle Ages.”

Hermione looked at Iris with barely concealed interest. “Would you like to debate the Gender Politics of Wizards and Witches, or are you just trying to make a point?” she asked curiously.

Iris's frown lightened, and she shook her head. “Point,” she replied before yawning, “I’m going to go get ready. Ares is sitting in the common room waiting,” she stretched again before sleepily gathering her clothing for the day and trudging to the showers.

Hermione stared after her friend idly contemplating if Iris knew that from long experience with Ares or if genuinely her friend might have a sixth magical sense entirely related to Ares.

Honestly, now that she considered the Hypothesis, the latter might make more sense. The Girl Who Lived was a little, well maybe a lot… a lot.

Still, she quickly got ready before walking down the stairs, unsurprised to find Iris lying half across Ares’s lap, draped like a lazing cat in the sun. Ares himself seemed to gamely be examining some sequence of runes scratched on paper, even as Iris attempted to distract him as her fingers prodded at the underside of his jaw idly.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar position for her to see them in, but something about it seemed different this time, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Iris normally did not seem to contemplate boundaries when it came to Ares, but was this maybe excessive? Even if they were dating? They still weren’t married…

Hermione’s cheeks flushed even as she settled into a chair across from them, beginning to flick through the book she had brought with her, only to stop on a page where she saw Ares had scribbled a note in a slanted hand.

“Ares?” she asked curiously, and the boy looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, and she noted that he smelled oddly fresh considering he shouldn’t have had the time to bathe, a spell?

“You wrote something here-“ she began, and Ares visibly winced. “Oh sorry, Hermione,” he said, “Did I cover something important up?

Hermione shook her head, “No, I was just wondering why you wrote several spells next to this entry on Werewolves,” she asked.

Ares’s lips twisted, and for a moment the gentle peace that had seemed to be exuding from him vanished, replaced by something cool. “It’s several spells I theorized would be capable of dealing with them.”

Hermione glanced down at the darkly inked words. “Aren’t they merely suffering witches and wizards?” she asked.

Ares shrugged, giving her a bland smile, “I had a specific wizard in mind, admittedly.”

“You know someone who's a werewolf?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Unfortunately,” Ares said shortly, and Hermione looked surprised at her friend, the emotion behind the word strange to her.

Hermione was about to ask another question, though she hadn’t formulated it yet, only for Neville to stumble down the stairway looking tired, blearily regarding them as he yawned, “’ermione, Iris,” he yawned, “Ares,” he regarded them for a moment as Hermione waited for the boy to say something, “What’re we doing today?” he stretched.

Ares frowned thoughtfully, closing his book before regarding Neville seriously, “Nev, you like Hannah Abbot, right?” he asked.

Neville choked on his own spit, coughing a bit as he was suddenly wide awake, staring at Ares, “Mate, what the hell?” his eyes flicked around the room for a moment, sighing in relief when he saw no one had noticed, “I thought I told you to keep it quiet.”

Ares’s own eyes widened, “Bloke, you were trying to keep that quiet?” he asked dumbly.

Neville frowned and crossed his arms, “Bloody hell mate, I mean I guess it’s just Hermione and Iris, but what if someone else heard you?”

Ares frowned, “But I always have privacy enchantments up when we’re talking,” he said.

Neville blinked, and then a slightly relieved smile spread across his face, “Never mind mate, you’re fine, so what was this about?”

“Right,” Ares gave him a somewhat relieved look and continued, “I find myself wondering how exactly one dates someone as a second year,” he crossed his arms, a frown deeply creasing his face, “We’re not allowed to leave Hogwarts for Hogsmeade, so we’re pretty much locked to the Castle Grounds by the rules, aren’t we?”

Neville stared at his friend blankly, and then Hermione saw his eyes carefully avoid looking at Iris, “I don’t know, mate; it depends on the bird,” he said, shrugging, before it seemed he couldn’t help himself and glanced at Iris, morbid interest apparent on his expression before seeing the girl was still intent in her own world and his eyes widened before he hesitated again, “Uh so like, something you want to tell me mate?”

“Ares is my boyfriend,” Iris interrupted bluntly, “You’re allowed to help him, Neville.”

Ares looked contemplative for a second as he looked at Neville, who was looking sheepishly at him, “It was the right move, Nev; you don’t fight lost battles.”

Neville chuckled and then offered a fist out to the other boy, who reached his own fist out from the couch, and they bumped them lightly together.

Neville then settled down in a chair and began to discuss the better locations in the castle with an intently listening Ares.

Hermione released a small breath, relieved that all seemed to be going well, which caught in her throat as, from the girl’s stairs, Fleur Delacour stepped as graceful as ever, surveying the room with a quick glance of blue eyes before they settled on them.

Hermione saw the complicated expression flash through Fleur’s eyes: excitement, joy, a snobbish pride, and then something smaller, sadder, lonely.

To the girl’s credit, she didn’t stop walking and came over to settle on the armrest of the couch next to Ares, almost purposely not taking one of the other armchairs that remained open, Hermione thought.

“What's this all about?” Fleur asked her as she stared almost uncomprehendingly at Neville, who continued to list his ranking of decent locations to a gradually more and more concerned-looking Ares.

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth, not even herself sure what she would say, only for Iris to speak up first, “Ares is asking Neville on advice on where to take me for a date?”

Hermione’s eyes were locked onto Fleur, and to the other girl’s credit, she didn’t flinch, didn’t frown, didn’t do anything besides have her eyes widen a bit and a soft smile spread onto her face, “Congratulations, Iris,” she said, smiling softly.

Iris finally turned away from Ares, locking eyes with Fleur. “Thank you.” She smiled softly, and Hermione noted the smile looked oddly considering, like a cat looking at a bird, “I think I’d like it if us girls could talk about it later.”

Fleur nodded, smiling, even as Hermione’s gut dropped as she looked between her two friends.

What exactly was Iris trying to do?

-

HFS over a hundred thousand words later and first Hermione POV, how’d it take that long?