In the Hospital Wing Madame Pomfrey approaches Nimue.

"Miss Hawkwood," said Madam Pomfrey, stepping up beside her softly. "You really should leave now. Professor Grimalkin will sleep now. I believe he is going to be fine."

Indeed, some of the colour had come back into Anders' pale face and his chest rose and fell evenly. There was even, Madam Pomfrey was inclined to think, a very, very gentle smile playing around the corners of his mouth. She reached down and very gently parted Nimue's hand from the Professor's.

"You are a kind, sweet girl, Miss Hawkwood, to show so much concern for one of your teachers, but tonight is a celebration. You should go and join the others before the fun is through. Professor Dumbledore said you may visit him during the day, and I will tell him when he wakes that you asked after him."

Nimue was naturally reluctant to be parted from Anders but she recognized in the firmness of Madame Pomfrey's tone that the time had indeed come to leave. "Certainly Madame Pomfrey." she said in a quiet voice rising from the chair. "I know that he is the best of hands here with you. I will visit tomorrow when I can."

Of course, she couldn't touch him, couldn't even show the kind of sisterly concern she had when Marvo was in the hospital wing. However, in her mind's eye she imagined bending over and gently kissing his brow. This thought in her mind, she smiled at Madame Pomfrey, collected her shoes which she had kicked off, straightened her dress and made to leave. Before she did, she impulsively kissed Poppy Pomfrey on the cheek and said 'Thank you for always being here for all of us.'

"Oh, get on with you," said Madam Pomfrey, embarrassed. "I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than be here for you."

Leaning across Anders, she switched out the lamp above his head. "If his condition should worsen," she said, softly, "I will send for you. I don't quite understand what you did to calm him down, but...well, it worked. And as a nurse, that's good enough for me."

Nimue didn't quite understand what she'd done for Anders either but Madame Pomfrey was right something had settled him. Nimue felt a slight lump in her throat as she looked at his sleeping form.

"Thank you Madame Pomfrey. I trust you won't need to call me though I would want you to if he became worse."

With that she departed and returned, after a quick 'freshened up' to the Great Hall. She saw Marvo and Kat dancing beautifully together and was pleased. She went over and found some of her classmates and said hello to them.

**********

(Note: Three IC chats took place between three couples: Nathan and Arcadia visited the Greenhouse; Marvo and Kathryn went to the lake, Neither of these chats have been 'released' to the main group and so are not included here. These encounters are referred to by the characters in the next transcript. The third encounter with Niki and Dylan was released to the main group and is summarized below. Full IC chat is Message 4800)

Dylan took her hand, leading her from the Great Hall with only occasional looks back. Ever wary, he didn't trust anyone to leave them be. Niki noted the looks backwards, hoping that he wouldn't see Katia and Unnamed, who seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.

Dylan thankfully didn't and as soon as the doors of the hall closed behind them, he focused completely on her once more. Niki smiled, slipping her hand into his. She hadn't held anyone's hand since they had been to Azkaban, four years ago, and Dylan's was much more comforting than her father's had been..

As they walked through the corridors quietly, Dylan's voice was low as spoke "What are y' thinkin' about?"

Niki didn't answer immediately. After a few moments of reflective silence, she said, "Azkaban, and your hand. That didn't really make sense, did it? Last time I held someone's hand was in Azkaban going to get my mother's body." she sighed, "I don't want to talk about that, though."

Dylan nodded, understanding, "Last time I held someone's hand was...a few months ago...when I went home."

Niki sighed again. She really didn't want to think about Azkaban, let alone talk about it, but her hand wasn't much larger now than it had been then, and walking down this dark and deserted corridor was uncomfortably like it. All that was missing was the screams of the prisoners, and the Dementors. She shuddered, just thinking about them, and tried to think of something happier.

Dylan stops and squeezes her hand a little, gently, "Don't think about tha'...'twill only trouble you. You're wi' me now."

Niki smiled sadly into the semi-darkness. "I'll try not to," she promised, resting her head on his shoulder.

They talked about various things including the meaning of the Welsh words Dylan had called Katia.

"I probably wouldn't use words like that if I knew what they *meant*, but I suppose your mother wouldn't think I was a lady. I know a lot of good Arabic swear words." Said Niki.

Dylan looks at her, and laughs thoughtfully, " M' Mum would think y' a gem, simply because y' treat her son like a human bein'."

Niki raises her eyebrows, wishing she had the muscle control to raise both. "You can't have met very many decent people, then. Anyone who thinks you're less than human because you're Welsh or Muggle-born has a second thing coming.

Dylan gave a little shrug, "You might think tha'. Th' English hate Th' Welsh, th' "pure-bloods" hate th'...what d' you call it..."Mudblood." Put 'em both t'gether, an' 'tisn't pretty."

Niki said, "Not all the pure bl- " Niki caught herself. "People from wizarding families don't like Muggle-borns. I am from a pureblood family as old as any."

Dylan gave a little shrug, " It's one kind o' hate exchanged fer another. House hatred, racial hatred, nationalistic hatred, blood hatred...wha's th' difference, 'cept th' names y' get called?"

Niki said, "It's all stupid. People are people, except when they're not, like Katia and Arcadia."

They discussed their Dylan's siblings. Niki remarked, "It was just me and Hadrian and Papa, and now just me and Papa. I used to wish I had a younger brother or sister, when Hadrian annoyed me."

Dylan replied, "I ne' er minded th' houseful o' children...it's hard, sometimes, bein' th' oldest. But I don't mind. Family's really precious t' us."

Niki murmurs, almost too softly to be heard," I thought it was for Mother, too... I know she loved us, she certainly told us so often enough, and protected us, but in the end... She didn't have to kill that Auror, but she did, even though she knew it was dangerous, and that she would be taken away, and we'd lose her."

The conversation remained quite sorrowful. Dylan looks at her, uncertainly, "Niki...I...I'm sorry...I don't know wha' I'm doin'...I don't talk t' people...I'm not so good at doin' it now."

Niki smiles gently, "You've already gotten me to talk more than Papa or Professor Dumbledore or that damned diary combined.

Dylan gave a hesitant smile, " I jus'...if'n I shouldn't have kissed you...or shouldn't have danced wi' you...I'm trustin' you'll tell me."

Niki grins, seeming to remember some particularly pleasant past event, "Oh, believe me, I would. If I didn't like being kissed... I would tell you." Niki smiles again, and, very gently, stands and tiptoe and kisses him.

They kiss some more. Dylan's kisses are much like him--timid and uncertain as he tries his best to guess what he ought to do. Niki puts her arms around Dylan's neck and pulls gently so that they are both sitting on a bench in the hallway. After a few minutes Niki rests her head sleepily on his shoulder, but positioning it in such a way that she can look up into his face. "I think that there are a lot of things that people don't notice about themselves until someone else points them out."

Dylan says, "I s'ppose...I've always been serious, though...14 goin' on fourty."

Niki responded, "It's just... not in my nature, seriousness. My mother was like that too, always laughing and smiling... At least, that's what Papa says, and that's what she does in old pictures. I hardly remember her. All I remember is the one morning when I woke up and came downstairs and she wasn't there, and Papa said she had to go away for a bit... She had her trial, and then when she was sent to Azkaban, it was Hadrian who told me, because Papa told him. I didn't even know what Azkaban was. How could I? I was five years old."

Niki turns her face away from Dylan's, and although there is no sound, he might be able to feel a wetness on his shoulder. Dylan just holds her, smoothing her hair, whispering to her soothingly in Welsh.

"I really don't want to think about Mother, *Niki says, but her words lack sincerity, "It reminds me of Azkaban, and I really don't want to think about there... "

Dylan just holds her, letting her ride this out, his voice incredibly soothing, almost musical.

"I wish I knew what you were saying, *Niki says after a few minutes. "It sounds beautiful, but I don't understand it."

Dylan said softly "You're tired." Niki laughed, "Not tired, just *yawn* sleepy."

Dylan laughs quietly, "Same dif'rence, really."

Niki remarks, " There was definitely something in something. It might not have been the punch, but... *yawn*... It was something. was definitely something in the punch." Niki smiles again, less sleepily this time, "I promise I will go to bed tonight, and not early tomorrow morning."

Dylan laughs, "It's hard fer me t' believe you're in Slytherin...you're s' kind, s' honest...does th' Sortin' Hat make mistakes?"

"Like I said," Niki replies, "it's in the bl-" she seems to wake up a bit, her eyes widening. "No, I don't think it makes mistakes."

Dylan shakes his head, "Then why are you in Slytherin? Granted, th' thin' wanted t' put me there, too, but still..."

"Ambition, I suppose," Niki says with a shrug. Her eyes seem wary, and she doesn't appear to like this topic of conversation.

Dylan takes the hint, and settles to smoothing her hair again, absently. The question, however, still bothers him.

"Will you tell me more about your mother than that she'd like me?" asks Niki.

Dylan chuckled softly, "She's brave, beautiful an' kind...she loves m' brothers an' sisters an' me very much...I miss her."

Niki smiled, though it turns into a yawn halfway through. "I can tell. I can also tell," she adds with a mischievous grin, "that she's a very intelligent person, since you said she'd like me..."

Dylan chuckled softly. "She's...how d'you say it...intuitive. She knows thin's about people without them sayin' a word. Says it runs in th' family."

"I think it does," Niki said. She put her legs up on the bench, leaning on Dylan, her head still resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were half-closed, but she was fighting sleep. She didn't want the night to be over, even though she was drowsy.

He shrugged a little, trying his best not to disturb her, and slipped his arm about her waist. This was comfortable, oddly enough, holding her like this, and it brought a little smile to his lips. He didn't speak, unwilling to disrupt the quiet perfection of the moment. Yes, he decided, this was one of the best nights ever.

Niki's eyes slowly closed, and the smile faded as her breathing grew regular and quiet. She was asleep.

After a few minutes of slumber, her eyes flew open, staring in horror at the ceiling. She blinked a few times, looked frantically around, then remembered where she was, and why she was there.

"Hush, gently, now, it's all right...you're wi' me," Dylan told her quickly, quietly. His hold on her tightened, as if to prevent her from doing something foolish. "Jus' hush, now."

Niki felt severely disquieted, but managed to keep her face calm. The dream... Or had it been a dream? It had seemed so real, but here was Dylan, holding her, so it couldn't have been real. She closed her eyes again, but stubbornly pushed away sleep until she could take a potion to protect against nightmares.

"D'you always sleep s' poorly, or am I jus' special?" Dylan asked gently, a tinge of self-deprecating humor in his soft voice. He was worried about her. Never had she seemed so tiny, so frail as she did now, in his arms. He pushed the thought and his hair away absently.

"I've had nightmares for years. They were... worse, more frequent, after Hadrian died, and I usually get a potion from Madam Pomfrey before I go to bed. But," she looks up at him, a little startled to see concern on his face, "I don't want to go to sleep now. I can do that later."

A little smile flickered across his face for a moment. "It seems you're doin' tha' now, whether y' want t' or not." Gently, he smoothed her hair, the gesture become familiar now.

"I won't," Niki said, as if informing him of an interesting fact. "I'm *not* going to fall asleep... again..." She smiled. "I like it when you do that, smoothing my hair..."

His smile broadened, became sweet as he continued. "I'm glad." Dylan took to humming again, holding her, letting his mind wander as he hummed the soft, old song beneath his breath. Despite the chill of the hall, he felt warm, as if he had been wrapped in a woolen blanket.

Niki yawned hugely, and covered her mouth with both hands. "I'm going to fall asleep here again," she said softly. "I should go to bed." However, she made no movement to do so.

Dylan laughed. "Don't make me try t' carry you. Though I could d' it, I don't know where th' Slytherin tower entrance is." He shifted, pulling her weight off of him and helping her sit up. "G'on, off wi' you t' bed," he told her gently, standing.

Niki yawned again. "It isn't a... <yawn> tower, anyway. It's down in the dungeons." She stands up too, then smiled at Dylan. "Well... see you in the morning, then..."

A little ghost of a smile as he squeezed her hands. "Shows how much I know, does. Th' mornin', then," he replied quietly. He wanted to kiss her goodnight, something, but was uncertain. "G'night, Niki. Happy Valentine's Day." Quickly, he kissed her cheek, then let go of her hands, and headed back for the Gryffindor common room, unwilling to look back.

"G'night," Niki called after him, and found her way back to the Slytherin common room. After changing into her pajamas, she collapsed onto her bed.

Niki lay on her bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. She was exhausted, but, oddly, not sleepy. She wanted to tell someone all that had happened. She wanted a Pensieve, anything, really, to siphon off some of the thoughts that were keeping her from the arms of Morpheus. Images kept flashing up: the Fire Demon… Dylan, kneeling in the snow… Katia's face as she threw the handful of fire… What it felt like to be dancing with Dylan… Dancing with Dylan… Dancing with Dylan…

Almost, she pulled out the diary and poured out her heart to her brother, but the punch hadn't had that much of an effect. Hadrian knew she couldn't bring herself to destroy it, but she didn't have to tell him everything. The Dark magic he had learned from their mother had to be much more extensive than Niki's, and she had no way of knowing what Hadrian could do, even trapped in a diary. She shivered slightly, even tucked under the warm blankets.

Instead, Niki reached under her bed and pulled out a large and shabby book. She lit her wand with a muttered, "Lumos!" and curled up on her bed, opening to the first page.

Four people stood in front of an arbor covered in vines. A man, tall and thin, with tawny hair; a woman, much shorter, with olive skin and long dark hair; two children, no more than four years old, with their mother's coloring, chasing each other around the garden. The woman was smiling up at her husband, and, as Niki watched, turned her face up and was kissed. The children stopped their game and came to stand by their parents, laughing.

Niki angrily wiped away the tears she could feel starting in the corners of her eyes, and tucked the book under the bed again. She whispered, "Nox," to her wand, and closed her eyes. Almost against her will, she tried to remember the last time she had seen her mother, almost four years ago.

Niki was frightened, quite understandably so. The island fortress was so dark and imposing, and the Dementors who had met them at the dock were so tall, even taller than Papa, who was the tallest man Niki knew. Whenever one of the Dementors got too close to her, when she passed through a door, she felt cold and sad. It reminded her of when Papa had told her that Mama was not going to be coming home with them.

She hadn't understood then, and still didn't completely, but she knew that Mama had done something very wrong. It had something to do with the mark on Mama's left forearm, the skull with the snake for a tongue, that appeared and hurt her sometimes.

Niki noticed how cold Papa's hand was as they passed still more Dementors, until finally they came to a desk where a wizard sat. His face was totally impassive, and Niki wondered if the Dementors had any effect at all on him. "Ah, yes…" he said, sorting through some papers. "Mr. Pheidippides." He glanced down at Niki and Hadrian, who clung to their father's hands like a lifeline. "Sign here, and here…"

He indicated the lines. When Papa had signed, the wizard took them down a hall towards the cells. As soon as he opened the heavy door, Niki could hear the screams. There was one man shouting for his mother, a woman's voice crying out in pain or fear… She clung more tightly to her father's hand, round-eyed with terror.]

Niki sat up in bed, breathing hard. That had been the last time she saw her mother, when she was nine and they had come to collect her body. Had it been merely a body, soulless and empty, the abandoned shell, for more than the few days before they had come? Had the Dementors sucked out the soul of Maryam Pheidippides, leaving her worse than dead? Niki felt sick just thinking about it.

She rolled over, trying to ignore the feeling of ice in the pit of her stomach. Think of happier things, she told herself firmly. Think of dancing with Dylan, of the concern in his eyes as she told him about the diary… No, don't think about the diary, or about Hadrian, or about the forest on that day, or the look of savage triumph on Madison's face…

Niki began to cry, tears running silently down her face. After several minutes, her breathing grew regular, and her pillow would be quite dry by morning.

*************

Katia was very late coming back from the feast. Her usually impeccable clothing was mussed and her hair looked as if it had been hastily re-adjusted.

Nathan sits in the common room, scribbling something into a very small silver book. He looks up as Katia comes in and grins. "Now, what do we have here, a little lovebird? Got lucky, Katia?"

Katia smiled flirtatiously. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she said, slipping through the door to the girl's dormitory.

Unnamed was certainly telling the story of the evening to anyone who cared to listen. He was clearly flattered that Katia even noticed him.

Nathan casually listened to Unnamed's tellings (being in the same year he had no way to avoid them) but kept his nose in some notes and books most of the time. In fact, he doesn't seem eager to go to sleep.

Katia hummed quietly to herself as she got ready for bed.

" What you been up to?" came a voice from the Arcadia's bed.

"More than you have," Katia replies crisply, sitting down on her bed to brush her hair.