"So did you ACTUALLY have sex with a vampire -" 

"If you ask that once more," I said, "I'm going to stick this sprout -" 

"I'm only checking!" Ron said. We were standing with Harry at the Burrow's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of us. 

"Let's talk about anything other than my sister's sex life, shall we?" Harry said hastily. 

"Okay..." Ron pondered for a second. "Hey - that You-Know-Who's a right piece of shit, isn't he?" 

"Ron, when I said 'anything,' I didn't actually mean ANYTHING -" 

"It's alright, Harry." I held up a hand, catching a glimpse of Harry's alarmed face. "I can talk about him as long as I'm trash talking him. Yeah, Ron, he's a piece of shit. Yo, he actually was going to try to marry me." 

"What, seriously?" Ron said in a half-awed, half-disgusted tone. Harry peeled his sprout a little too harshly, slamming the knife onto the bench accidentally. 

"Yeah." I nodded. "I overheard him talking about it to his Death Eater buddies. He said he was going to do an Unbreakable Oath or something." 

"An Unbreakable Vow?" Ron said, looking stunned. "Nah, he can't have... Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." I said. "Why, what does it mean?"

"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow..."

"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die." Ron said simply. "Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went MENTAL." Ron said, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since."

"Yeah, well, passing over Red's left buttock -" 

"I beg your pardon?" Fred's voice said as the twins entered the kitchen. I looked up and beamed at him. Fred beamed back, his smile making my heart flutter. 

"Aaah, Bushy, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

"I'll be seventeen in two and a bit months' time," Ron said grumpily, "and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"But meanwhile," George said, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a - whoops-a-daisy!"

"You made me do that!" Ron said angrily, sucking his cut thumb. "You wait, when I'm seventeen -" 

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills." Fred yawned.

"And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald," said George, "what is this we hear from Softpaw about you and a young lady called - unless our information is faulty - Hannah?"

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. "Mind your own business."

"What a snappy retort." Fred said. "I really don't know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was... how did it happen?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Did she have an accident or something?"

"What?"

"Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!"

Mrs Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand. 

"Ron!" She said furiously. "Don't you ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

"I won't," said Ron, "let you see." He added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.

"Percy definitely not showing his ugly face for Christmas, then?" Fred asked his mother.

Mrs Weasley turned away before she answered.

"No, he's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or he's the world's biggest prat." Fred said, as Mrs Weasley left the kitchen. "One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, Bushy."

"What are you two up to?" Ron asked. "Can't you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free too!" 

"Oh, that's right." Fred said. "Okay... here, Softpaw." 

And he waved his wand; my knife leapt out of my hand and started peeling my sprouts so fast that I could only see the flashing of the metal in between all the peels sliding off them. Within seconds, my pile was done. 

"Thanks, Red!" I said in delight, joining the twins and linking arms with them. 

"What about us?" Ron said indignantly. "C'mon, just do ours!" 

"No, I don't think we can do that." Fred said seriously. "It's very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs -" 

"- And if you want people to help you, Ron," George added, throwing the paper airplane at him, "I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We're off to the village, there's a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous... almost like real magic..."

"Gits." Ron said darkly after us. "Would've only taken them ten seconds and then we could've gone too." 

And Fred, George, and I set off across the snowy yard. As we made our way down the treacherously icy path towards Ottery St Catchpole, we chatted about the general gossip at school - 

"Guys, did you hear that Cho Chang thinks that her and Ced should be in an open relationship?" 

"Yeah, apparently it's because she gets lonely at school when he's off working -" 

"I heard that it was Cedric who wanted to open it!" 

- women's bodies - 

"Tits or ass, Bushy?" 

"I'm an ass man, myself. You, Red?" 

"Definitely tits, but I like both on the right woman." 

"Ha, speaking of this 'right woman...' Softpaw, what about you?" 

"You know I'm all about them titties, Bushy!" 

- Terry - 

"You guys know that if Hopper was with us, he'd be complaining about all the titty talk." 

"But he'd defo be down for the ass talk." 

"I always had the impression that Hopper was a bottom, no?" 

"A what?!" 

"Ah... never mind." 

- and then, as we were approaching the paper shop along the snowy street, the topic Ron was so eager to bring up in the kitchen. 

"Softpaw, word is that you fucked the vampire at Sluggy's party." George said casually as we walked around a strangely parked car. "Is that true?" 

"It is." I confirmed with an eye roll. "Why does everyone care so much?" 

"Because it's sweet, juicy gossip, sis." George patted my head, and I tilted my head at him. 

"You feeling alright, Bushy?" I queried. 

"I guess. Just nervous I might fuck up my performance in front of this stunner." George nodded through the window of the paper shop, his eyes shining with excitement and desire. 

"Red, what d-" I turned to Fred, but his jaw was clenched and he was kicking at a chunk of ice half-chipped off from the postbox next to us. "Fred? What's wrong?" 

"So that was why you had those bite marks on your neck." Fred said, his eyes on the ice, but his voice bitter. "At the party. That vampire bit you." 

"Er - yeah." I said awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as George peered in the window, craning his neck. 

"And you let him? He sucked your blood? Does that mean you're a vampire now?" Fred said darkly, kicking a huge chunk off the ice. 

I shook my head. "I'm an angel, so vampire bites don't affect me. And him sucking my blood doesn't matter; I can heal, and angel blood tastes good to him, so -" 

"Does it, now?" Fred looked up at me, his eyes flashing. I took a step back, feeling my eyebrows rise up in alarm. "You taste good, ha, and you can heal, so that makes it alright then. Tell me, Softpaw, did you like it?" 

"So what if I did?" I took a step forward again, tossing my hair over my shoulder. "He got to feed off of me - and I am apparently DELICIOUS, by the way - and I got to feel good. So what, huh? So what if we both liked it?" 

"Because he was just using you -" 

"And I was just using him." I said firmly. "We used each other for sex, and him also for drinking blood. So he took a little more out of it than I did, so what? So WHAT?" 

Fred stared at me, struggling with what to say. His eyes were too bright. His jaw was clenched even harder. 

"Why does it bother you so much what I do with others in my spare time in private?" 

"Because he put his fucking hands on you!" Fred burst out. 

"And?" 

"And the only hands that should be on you are MINE!" 

Fred was panting, his cheeks pink and his eyes flashing dangerously. His hands were clenched into fists, and the way he was towering over me made me melt. Shit... does he know I love it when someone's possessive over me or what? 

Without thinking, I leaned forward. Within seconds, I was on my tip-toes and my hands were on his scarf, dragging him down to my height, and my lips were on his. Fred froze for a moment, apparently shocked, before his lips moved enthusiastically with mine. His arms wound around me, his left hand cupping my cheek tenderly, and my heart was pounding in my chest at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping mine... 

A car honking from down the street broke through the little world we were wrapped in, and we jumped apart. I gazed into Fred's eyes; they were soft now, and he opened his mouth. 

"Daisy..." 

"Hey, where's Bushy?" I looked around. George had vanished. 

"Daze, we need to t-" 

"Ah, there he is!" I said triumphantly as I spotted him. George was inside the paper shop already, flashing a row of cards at a brunette behind the counter. "Come on!" 

I grabbed a protesting Fred's hand and dragged him inside the shop. The tinkling laugh of the gorgeous round-faced, brown-eyed girl reached us as we stomped the snow off our shoes and joined George at the counter. 

"Oh, George, that's so wacky! Almost like it's REAL magic, you know!" The brunette giggled. "Oh, hello, Fred. I didn't know you were in a relationship! When did you get such a beautiful girlfriend?" 

I immediately felt my face heat up, and I let go of Fred's hand. I shot Fred a side glance, and saw that his face was now bright pink again. 

"Oh - er - we're not -" Fred stammered. 

"We - er - we're just friends. Best friends." I said hurriedly. 

The brunette smiled. "Could've fooled me. You guys would be so cute together!" 

My cheeks were burning. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window behind her, and saw that my face was a shade deeper than Fred's. Why did this random paper shop girl's words make my heart do backflips inside my chest? 

~~~ 

The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, and I were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to his back, it glowered down at us all, the ugliest angel I had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet. 

"If only we could've stuffed Softpaw at the top of the tree." Fred sighed. "Then our angel would've been the prettiest of all the angels." 

George smirked at him as I blushed furiously again. 

We were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs Weasley's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,' Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with me and Ginny. Harry and Ron were chatting. Meanwhile Sirius, Emily, and Lupin were sitting next to the fire, roaring with laughter over Celestina's voice. 

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron, 

And if you do it right 

I'll boil you up some hot, strong love, 

To keep you warm tonight."

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" Mrs Weasley said, wiping her eyes on her knitting. "Do you remember, Arthur?"

"Mphf?" Mr Weasley said, whose head had been nodding over the satsuma he was peeling. "Oh yes... marvelous tune..."

With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at me, who was sitting behind him.

"Sorry about this." He said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. "Be over soon."

"No problem." I said, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry of Banter?"

"Very." Mr Weasley said. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Death Eater - only don't repeat that, Daisy." He added quickly, looking much more awake all of a sudden.

"They're not still holding Stan Shunpike, are they?" Harry asked, leaning over.

"I'm afraid so." Mr Weasley said. "I know Dumbledore's tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan... I mean, anybody who has actually interviewed him agrees that he's about as much a Death Eater as this satsuma... but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and 'three arrests' sounds better than 'three mistaken arrests and releases...' but again, this is all top secret..."

"We won't say anything." I said. I turned back to Fred, George, and Ginny as Celestina Warbeck began a ballad called 'You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.' 

"Daze, is it true that -" 

"Yes, Ginny, I fucked a vampire and let him suck my blood." I said grumpily as Ginny cackled in delight. Fred rolled his eyes and George raised an eyebrow at the cards in his hand. 

"You did what, sweetheart?" Sirius leaned over, his eyes wide. 

"I'm kidding, Sirius!" I said hastily as Emily leaned over also, interested. "Seriously, don't sweat it -" 

"Then what are those on your neck?" Sirius pointed at the tiny scars shaped like puncture marks on my skin. 

"Er - failed piercing attempts." I said, tugging at my hoodie strings and tightening the hood over them. 

I overheard Lupin and Harry talking as I shuffled my chair away from Emily, whose curious eyes were peering closer. 

"... And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

"But, Remus, you ARE normal!" I leaned over and said fiercely. "You've just got a minor problem -" 

Lupin burst out laughing.

"Sometimes you remind me a lot of James, Daisy. He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."

"Hey, Softpaw, you think the Half-Blood Prince would have something for warding off horny vampires in your book?" George called over to me as Fred sat, stony-faced, beside him and Ginny tittered. 

"The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts, I've got his old Potions book." I explained to Lupin and the others. "He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was Levicorpus or something -" 

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during our time at Hogwarts, remember, Remus, Emily?" Sirius said reminiscently. "There were a few months in our fifth year when you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle. It was brilliant." 

We eventually all retired to bed, yawning and sleepy-eyed. I lay awake for ages even though I was exhausted, thoughts of Riddle grinning at me like a shark about to devour its prey as he handed me another goblet of love potion creeping into my mind in the silence. 

And eventually I crept out of my own bed and into Fred's, snuggling in close to him. I gasped softly as his arm slid around me. I thought he was asleep. 

"You're safe now, baby... Shh, you're safe..." 

And now, I found, I could sleep just fine. 

~~~ 

I woke with a start to find two bulging stockings lying over the end of Fred's bed. I sat up and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, George was unwrapping a present. He was smirking slightly over at me. Why -? 

Oh. Fred was shirtless beside me, still asleep. His arm was still loosely around my waist. 

"Fun night, Softpaw?" 

"Shut up, Bushy, you know nothing happened, you were right beside us." I scowled. 

"Yeah, nothing happened, alright. Not a single nightmare." George examined his Weasley jumper with a little grin. "Maybe you should sleep with us in one of our beds every night and you'll be cured." 

"Softpaw won't be sleeping with you, mate, only me." Fred said roughly, his morning voice cracking as he sat up beside me, the arm withdrawing from my waist as he raised it to his face to rub his eyes. 

"Wouldn't mind both." I muttered under my breath. 

The twins both turned to me, their eyes wide. Fred looked fully awake now. 

"Kidding." I said weakly. "Unless...?" 

The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. The twins glanced at each other, then at me again. George licked his lips, and Fred shifted on the bed. I took in a deep, nervous breath. 

"Hey, guys! Happy Christmas. Thanks for my awesome gift, Daze, I put yours in there with the rest." Ginny popped her head in, making all three of us jump. "What's going on in here...?" She said slowly, eyeing us all. "You know what, never mind - see you in a bit." 

And the twins' younger sister disappeared through the door again, closing it with a firm 'click' behind her. 

We all laughed nervously, returning to our gifts awkwardly. My presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs Weasley, a large box of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, and a friendship bracelet from Terry, along with a huge haul of Honeydukes merchandise. Harry had gotten me a shower curtain with Niall Horan from One Direction's face superimposed all over it. 

"He knows me so well." I said fondly, holding the curtain close to me. Fred and George shot me strange looks. 

I reached the last package, a little box. I opened it, seeing that it was also from the twins, and out popped a glass bottle of nail polish. 

"Do you guys want me to start wearing nail polish for the business?" I asked, holding it up. "Does it look more attractive for your brand promoter to -" 

"No, Softpaw, don't worry." George laughed. "We know you don't feel comfortable wearing makeup." 

I beamed. That's nice of them to notice. Boys usually don't. Notice if a girl is uncomfortable wearing makeup rather than just not wanting to wear it, I mean. 

"It's for Amortentia detection." Fred said. "It's clear, so no one'll know you're wearing it. You can just put it on one nail, then you can dip it into whatever drink you're suspicious of. It'll turn black if there's anything in it that shouldn't be." 

"Here, let us show you." George rifled through his bedside drawer. He brought out another little bottle, only this one was the pink one with little bows on it that we sold at our shop. "This is the last one we had in stock. We destroyed all the other ones." 

"Really?" I said, my eyebrows lifting. "But they really made a profit - and they cost so much to make -" 

"Doesn't matter. Once we realised how sick love potions are - regardless of the strength, and these ones weren't that strong - we didn't want anyone to get a hold of them." Fred said. "I know we can't control people buying and making their own, but at least we could make sure we're not playing a part in it." 

I beamed. A warmth was spreading in my chest. "I love you guys. You know that?" 

"We do, Softpaw." George smiled back at me. "We love you as well. Obviously." 

"Obviously." I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. "Sorry, you're making me emotional -" 

"Just because we destroyed a batch of evil potions?" George said. "Damn, girl, it's the bare minimum." 

"Not just that." I reached across and grabbed George's hand, fumbling for Fred's under the blanket. "You two are two of the three best friends I've ever had. I feel truly safe around you." 

"We aim to please." Fred said lightly, but I could see the happiness sparkling in his eyes. 

George squeezed my hand, smiling softly at me for a moment, then let go of it. "You'll be safe once you know how to do this. Okay, so..." 

He uncapped the nail polish, gently dabbing my fingernail with it. I watched his face as he did so, his eyes full of concentration. He then uncapped the love potion, bringing it over to my hand, and dipped the tip of my finger into the bottle. My eyes widened as I watched my seemingly-normal fingernail instantly turn jet black. 

"Wow." I said, bringing my nail up to my face to examine it. "Shit. Thanks, you guys!" 

"Hopefully now you can drink the pumpkin juice at breakfast instead of sniffing it for ten minutes." Fred said, and I slapped lightly at his upper arm, giggling. 

"Okay, I gotta go to the bathroom." I said, swinging my legs off of my best friend's bed. "My breath is probably not the best right now..." 

"I don't mind..." I heard Fred mutter as I opened the door. 

"Bit odd, dude." I heard George say as I closed it behind me. 

I passed Ron's room on the way, and doubled back. I stuck my head in the door. 

"She's got to be joking..."

Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining what appeared to be a thick gold chain.

"What the fuck is that?" I asked from the doorway.

"It's from your friend Hannah." Ron said, sounding revolted. "Daisy, you know her well, she can't honestly think I'd wear..."

I looked more closely and let out a shout of laughter. Dangling from the chain in large gold letters were the words: 'My Sweetheart' 

"Nice." I said. "Classy. What a baller thing to wear. You should definitely wear it in front of Red and Bushy." 

"If you tell them," Ron said, shoving the necklace out of sight under his pillow, "I - I - I'll -" 

"You'll what?" I smirked. "Stutter at me? Nice watch, Harry." 

Harry raised his hand in thanks at me, grinning, and I grinned back as I continued on to the bathroom; on his wrist was the watch shaped like a Quaffle I'd got him. 

Everybody was wearing new sweaters when we all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Fred and George gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, ever since we had to wash our own socks at the apartment." George said, waving an airy hand. "Parsnips, Sirius?"

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley said suddenly, after twenty minutes. She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. "Arthur - it's Percy!"

"What?"

Mr Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone.

"Arthur, he's - he's with the Minister!"

And sure enough, the man I had seen in the Daily Prophet was following along in Percy's wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked with snow. Before any of us could say anything, before Mr and Mrs Weasley could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.

There was a moment's painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, "Merry Christmas, Mother."

"Oh, Percy!" Mrs Weasley said, and she threw herself into his arms.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.

"You must forgive this intrusion." He said when Mrs Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. "Percy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know - and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else's heads. Mr Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" Mrs Weasley fluttered, straightening her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding... I mean -" 

"No, no, my dear Molly." Scrimgeour said. 

'Did he check her name with Percy before they came in?' I sent to Harry across the table. 

Harry shrugged, his eyebrows furrowing. 'Sounds like it. What the fuck does he want here?' 

"I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly..." The Minister was continuing. 

"Oh, Perce!" Mrs Weasley said tearfully, reaching up to kiss him.

"... We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden... ah, that young lady's finished, why doesn't she take a stroll with me?"

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to me. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour's pretence that he did not know my name convincing, or find it natural that I should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.

"Whatever." I said into the silence.

I wasn't fooled; for all Scrimgeour's talk that they had just been in the area, that Percy wanted to look up his family, this must be the real reason that they had come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to me alone.

"It's fine." I said quietly as I passed Sirius, who had half risen from his chair. "Fine." I added, as Lupin opened his mouth to speak.

"Wonderful!" Scrimgeour said, standing back to let me pass through the door ahead of him. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

I walked across the yard toward the Weasleys' overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at my side. He had, I knew, been Head of the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat.

"Charming." Scrimgeour said, stopping at the garden fence and looking out over the snowy lawn and the indistinguishable plants. "Charming."

I lounged against the fence and said nothing. I could tell that Scrimgeour was watching me. I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time." Scrimgeour said after a few moments. "Did you know that?"

"Everyone wants to meet me." I said. 

"Oh yes, of course. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you." Scrimgeour said. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through... especially what happened at the Ministry..."

Scrimgeour continued trying to hint at me about something, but I pretended not to know what he was on about, giving him short or one-worded answers to his questions. Of course, I knew exactly where he was going with this, from the second he singled me out in there. 

"People believe you are the Chosen One, you see." Scrimgeour said. "They think you quite the heroine - which, of course, you are, Daisy, chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway," He pressed on, without waiting for a reply, "the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Daisy. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a DUTY, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

A gnome was tugging very hard on a worm in the garden, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. I watched it, thinking hard. I was silent so long that Scrimgeour said, looking from me to the gnome, "Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, Daisy?"

"'Stand alongside the Ministry'..." I said slowly. "What does that mean, sir?"

"Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I assure you." Scrimgeour said. "If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Hamish MacFarlan, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become a professional Quidditch player. Well, that could be arranged very easily..."

I felt anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach: so Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she? He saw nothing wrong with what she did to me and my friends, and she has had no punishment? And Scrimgeour thought I could be bribed? Ha. I'm a fucking star at Quidditch, I don't need to weasel my way in. I can get into professional playing just fine on my own. 

"So basically," I said coolly, as though I just wanted to clarify a few points, "you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry?"

"It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Daisy." Scrimgeour said, sounding relieved that I had cottoned on so quickly. "'The Chosen One,' you know... it's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening..."

"But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry," I said, "won't that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry's up to?"

"Well," said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, "well, yes, that's partly why we'd like -" 

"No, I don't think that'll work." I said pleasantly. "You see, I don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance."

Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment but his expression hardened instantly.

"I would not expect you to understand." He said, and he was not as successful at keeping anger out of his voice as I had been. "These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old -" 

"Funny, you didn't seem to care about my age a minute ago." I said. "You're making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot." 

We looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimgeour said, with no pretence at warmth, "I see. You prefer - like your hero, Dumbledore - to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"

"I am not made to be used." I said, tilting my head and placing a hand on my hip.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"My duty?" I laughed wildly, my temper rising now. "My fucking DUTY? To be USED? Interesting, Minister, interesting. I'd watch what you're saying to this sixteen year old girl." 

I placed an extra emphasis on the words 'sixteen' and 'girl,' and I slid my hands into my pockets as I noticed them glowing white in tune with the anger pulsing through me. 

"I shouldn't have said that." Scrimgeour said quickly. "It was tactless -" 

"No, it was honest." I said. "One of the only honest things you've said to me. You think I'm a stupid little teenage girl who's easily manipulated. Well, I'm not. I don't forgive and forget... Dolores Umbitch is still working for you why exactly? She tortured me and you literally do not give a fuck." 

Scrimgeour watched me, his mouth opening, but I spoke first again. 

"I don't remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be besties last year."

We stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath our feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate his worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the bottom-most branches of the rhododendron bush.

"What is Dumbledore up to?" Scrimgeour said brusquely. "Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea." I said.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimgeour, "would you?"

"No, I wouldn't." I said.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means."

"You can try." I said indifferently. "But you seem cleverer than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he's not Minister anymore, but Dumbledore's still Headmaster. I'd leave Dumbledore alone, if I were you. Otherwise you'd have a student uprising on your hands, and basically the whole student body is loyal to me. I have a very powerful army behind me."

There was a long pause.

"Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you." Scrimgeour said, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Dumbledore's woman through and through, aren't you, Potter?"

"Yeah, I am." I said. "Glad we straightened that out."

And turning my back on the Minister of Magic, I strode back toward the house.