Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Dreaming A Winter's Night"
by Christine Anderson
aka Lilly Malfoy

She dreams...

Just aware enough of what is going on to know she's dreaming, not aware enough to stop it, she dreams.

She sits at the library table, one eye on the hourglass. It's nearly time for dinner, but she thinks she can get another page or two read before the meal-

Every Auror- even every apprentice- knows the sound of a ward going off. There is no mistaking that sound, or where it has come from.

She bolts from her chair and begins to run. Dimly she thinks she hears Madame Pince shouting at her as she dashes past, whipping out her wand, but she doesn't care, her focus has narrowed, one thought driving her forward- Get to Alastor. She races down the corridor, skidding around corners, running straight through a knot of second years, scattering them in all directions.

The dust cloud almost stops her cold, and she goes on with terror twisting through her heart. Praying as she has never prayed before. She fights her way through the dust, coughing and desperate. Blood pounds in her ears.

Through the dust, through the rubble strewn remains of the office, dreading what she will find, needing to know... Finding him at last, alive, miraculously injured only slightly- and bless Professor Lupin for leaving behind such sturdy furniture, without it she can't bear to imagine...

She realizes how much, how deeply, she has come to love him in that terrible eternity after she calls his name, when she fears he will not answer, that he can't. When he coughs and chokes out a reply, she feels a weight lift form her shoulders.

She trembles, one of her illusions broken now forever. She had never imagined such a thing could happen here- that he was not safe here at Hogwarts. And she should have known better. All of the things she has seen here... but she had believed this place a shelter, safe forever from the dangers of their world.

She nearly weeps, terror and shock mixed with the joy of finding him alive. and she clings to him as if she never means to let go. And even here, even now, it feels so good to be held by him, comforted by him...

They discuss what had happened, and the pieces fall into place. The Fetch, which never should have set off the wards... the pile of schoolwork for grading which shouldn't have, either... That the papers had been tampered with is the only answer.

She cries out in her sleep, as reality hits home. If he had taken the papers to the office himself, been holding them when they crossed the wards-

She comes awake with a start. She sits up, heart pounding, clutching the blankets to her.

"Oh, gods," she whispers. "Oh, gods..." It had been closer than she'd thought, so much closer... She could almost weep for the thought of it alone, but this isn't the time for that.

She is simply furious. How dare they? How dare anyone do this, and think that they could pull it off? But she smiles to herself as she tosses back the blankets, climbs out of bed. Because they have made a mistake, and it will be that mistake that gets them, in the end.

They screwed up; failed in their attempt, and tipped them off, both of them. They'll never get another chance like that. Both of them will be on guard now, watching each other's backs.

She thinks of what he said to her the night they met- about finding the right person, one who would stand with her to hell and back- and she smiles. Because she has found that now, and she means to be that to him, what he is so quickly becoming to her... Partners, in every sense of the word. She's got his back now, and he isn't going anywhere that she doesn't.

They say other houses are more prone to temper than hers- the Gryffindors with their courage and the passion they so often wear on their sleeves, the Slytherins with their pride and their arrogance- but they've rarely seen a truly angry Ravenclaw.

A Ravenclaw's fury is often cold, cold and logical and unforgiving as a winters' night. Once roused to that fury, there are few things more dangerous.

She tosses her old, well worn school cloak over her shoulders, and crosses to her desk. Dawn is just breaking, but there isn't enough light yet to read by, so she lights a few candles before beginning to pull books down from her shelves. Books on wards, defensive magic... her old familiar copy of Hogwarts: A History...

She knows the answers are here somewhere- what happened, how, and why. And once she knows that... Then she will be able to learn the most important answer of all- who.