The Second Task - Part Two

Valentine's Day had come. And gone.

Technically, it was still the 14th of February, but the evening meal had finished, and the subsequent witnessing of couples exchanging cards, flowers, chocolates and kisses all around had caused Penelope to hurry out of the dining hall in a state of unbearable anguish. Since the Yule Ball, all Penelope could think about was Percy and the cruel, humiliating way he'd dumped her. She would sway from white-hot anger to floods of tears at the very thought, and wherever she went she seemed to be dragging a stone around in her stomach. Not even the Four-House Tournament could raise her spirits; in fact, she'd hardly thought about the second task at all. When she couldn't even muster up a smile herself, making Snape smile seemed very trivial indeed.

This time last year, I was with Percy... reminisced Penelope wistfully.

But then, it was replaced by another angry thought. The tight git! He picked roses from behind the greenhouses for me then, rather than put his hand in his pocket and buy them himself...

Angry, frustrated tears flowed down Penelope's cheeks silently as she made her way through the moonlit, empty corridors of the fifth floor, past the statue of Boris the Bewildered to arrive at the fourth door on the left: finally, the Prefect's bathroom. Outside its door, Penelope whispered, "Pine fresh" and entered.

The white-marbled room was lit splendidly by the magnificent candle-filled chandelier; the luminosity fell upon the myriad of golden taps around the rectangular pool edge, causing them to glisten and beckon her to use them.

A steaming, perfumed bubble bath is just what I need...

Penelope sauntered over and turned three of the jewelled handles, opening and allowing each one to pour forth bubbles, pink-coloured and perfumed waters respectively. Taking a fluffy white towel from the folded pile in a corner, Penny crossed to the edge of the pool, removed her gemstone bracelet and slowly undressed, her clothing falling absent-mindedly on a marble bench nearby as she ruminated further.

Two years ago... Percy and I first kissed... on Valentine's Day...

A forlorn wail escaped as she slid into the hot bathwater, her warm tears flowing down her face as the rest of her body immersed in the scented, sparkling waters frolicking around her submersed frame. She had loved him, once.

I was only fifth-year, he sixth... We were both Prefects with so much in common... so happy... and now, we're complete strangers...

As her muscles relaxed from the thermal, effervescent bath, Penelope started to bawl in earnest, feeling a cathartic release in the privacy of the Prefects' bathroom. Hurt, rage and sadness engulfed her as the memory of her relationship with Percy flooded her psyche in one violent wave of regret and unfathomable, incomprehensible guilt. She remembered their secret courtship and how they had tried to keep their relationship clandestine for as long as possible. Their first year together had been such an intense time, culminating with the strange, seemingly random Petrifications of Muggle-borns; she had been one of the victims...

She remembered how upset Percy had been regarding the whole Chamber of Secrets episode. Penelope had been attacked and Petrified, and afterwards, Percy told her again and again of his relief when the Mandrake root cured her, along with the other Muggle-borns who had been afflicted and how, even though he were from Pureblood stock, he deplored, despised and swore to uproot any inequity he ever came across – especially if anyone ever referred to her in any derogatory way. Penny sighed deeply. He was so noble, so sweet, so gentle back then... How fast things changed!

Penelope sobbed to herself. He never cared about my Blood Status. It never mattered... and now I don't even recognise him; he spouts Ministry doctrine and only seems to care about rubbing shoulders with the echelons of wizarding society, making contact and gaining acceptance with purebloods, in particular. How ironic, the hypocritical git! thought Penelope bitterly. I don't understand what's happened! How could he have changed so much?

Thinking on the outcome of their relationship, their recent break-up, she summed up, Since he got a job working for the Ministry... it's as if it never existed... as if 'we' never happened...

Penelope exploded into tears again, blubbering, remembering the multitude of times she and Percy had sneaked into deserted classrooms, snogging wildly and exploring their newly-found love.

What an unbelievable, Janus-faced git! She berated herself, the anger once more bubbling through. I wasn't any better, going along with everything he suggested...

Penny took a deep breath, dunked her head under the water and surfaced again, settling her back against the wall in the sequestered comfort of the steaming swimming pool.

Believing she was now calming down and overcoming her sentimentality towards Percy, she wiped the bubble residue from her face with a soft towel from the poolside and settled herself on the underwater seating area. Then suddenly, a clear memory of Percy's sister, Ginny, catching them in a heavy embrace in an empty classroom caught her unawares. The subsequent relentless badgering and jibing which Percy endured from his brothers, Fred and George, had caused Percy to be even more cowardly, reluctant to admit they were a couple. Irrationally, she growled, "I hate Weasleys!"

Suddenly, a frail voice was heard asking, "Was it a boy?"

Penelope squealed a half-hearted scream. She looked up to see from where, or more precisely, from whom the voice originated. It was a female, ghost-like form. The silver-grey apparition was floating just above the jewelled golden taps, below the golden-framed painting of a blonde mermaid, fast asleep on a rock.

Penny recognised the glum-looking ghost as Moaning Myrtle, which surprised her as Myrtle usually haunted the girl's bathroom three floors down. Myrtle settled herself mid-air, lying on her side and hovering halfway between the diving board and the picture. With her phantom head propped up on her hand and her elbow bent, Myrtle looked curiously down upon the distraught blonde Prefect.

Embarrassed, Penny attempted to stifle further sobs. The ghost picked at a spot on her chin, raising her eyebrows in an askance expression of speculation.

"Was it a boy?" repeated Moaning Myrtle with intense curiosity.

"Pardon me?" Penny was taken aback by Myrtle's directness, never having been in contact with her so closely.

"A boy," the ghost repeated almost belligerently. Then, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, Myrtle pointed out, "They do that, you know, boys... They make girls cry."

Abruptly, the ghost whipped herself up to standing position then flipped backwards and plunged into the water. Resurfacing a second later in the middle of the pool, Myrtle moved closer to the now-startled Penny.

"My boy did," sniffled Myrtle, cosying towards Penny and sitting nearer to her. "He made me cry. All the time."

The shock of Myrtle's blunt confession helped Penny find her voice, and she softly enquired, "Your boy? You had a boyfriend, Myrtle?"

"Yes," hissed Myrtle. "Why are you surprised? You don't believe me?"

"No, no," denied Penelope. "It's just... I never knew."

"And why would anyone know? Who cares to ever know anything about me? Who dares to speak to me? They've only thrown things at me, called me names, and flushed me down the toilet to the Black Lake!"

Abruptly changing her hysterical tone, Myrtle whimpered softly, "Do you want to know?"

Tongue-tied, silently Penelope nodded in the affirmative.

"Do you really want to know?" pushed Myrtle, her voice starting to become strident.

Penelope gulped and again nodded, slightly more enthusiastically, in reassuring compliance.

Myrtle stared at Penelope through her heavy, pearly spectacles; the grey transparency gave her an unnerving, solemn gaze. "You have to promise me something first."

"Yes?"

"You have to promise never to tell anyone. You must carry this secret to your grave. Or, if you die here, to the toilet cubicle." She giggled. "You can share my cistern, if you like!" In a sing-song voice, Myrtle quoted, "So 'cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye!'" Then, she pointed out emphatically, "If you tell!"

"I won't tell anyone, Myrtle," whispered Penelope, fearfully breathless and intrigued by the possibility that Moaning Myrtle would reveal such a preposterous secret. "Cross my heart, hope to die," she repeated reassuringly.

"Oooh, very good," said the squat ghost smugly, and then she peered through her thick spectacles at the Prefect, her eyes seemingly filled with tears. Myrtle sniffed and eyed Penelope suspiciously as if contemplating whether or not to believe her sincerity.

"Well," started Myrtle, gliding even closer to Penelope's side, her silver eyes sparkling. "He didn't know he was my boyfriend. He was tall, with jet-black hair, a school Prefect – he was so yummy, but then," her voice changed to a sulky pout, "he became lost..."

"Lost?" Penelope was already confused. "People don't 'become' lost..."

"Yes, lost!" wailed Myrtle. "Another lost soul!" moaned Myrtle miserably, gliding and then slowly stretching her body out, floating upon the water. "Slipped away..."

"Slipped away? He died, Myrtle? I'm so... so sorry..."

"He must be dead, truly dead, because he never came back to me." Myrtle had erected herself, moving back in front of Penny. "And he promised me he would come back to Hogwarts... forever! He would come back – to me, and now we've been separated... he's somewhere... lost... or gone forever..." Utterly dejected, Myrtle started picking at a spot on her face again. Gazing sullenly at Penelope through her lank hair, Myrtle sighed longingly. "So clever, so handsome... he became Head Boy in his final year at Hogwarts."

"Clever? Head Boy – from Ravenclaw, Myrtle?"

"Oh, no." Myrtle giggled slyly, blushing silver. "He was a Slytherin."

Unexpectedly, Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and arose high in the air, somersaulting, before plunging once more into the bath waters. Effortlessly moving back towards the stunned Penelope, she excitedly continued, "He used to talk to me here... after I was dead, of course. No one ever talked to me when I was alive. I don't think he knew I existed then, either." She frowned morosely, and then in a split-second, she smiled mischievously. "But then, I died and came back as a ghost. The Ministry forced me to stop haunting and torturing Olive Hornby – I made her sorry she'd ever teased me about my glasses – and I found him here. We talked and talked and talked... He was fascinated by death. He said I was perfect. I was dead and perfect." Myrtle sighed contentedly. "And he wanted to know everything about me – being a ghost, what I could do, what I couldn't do, how I could do things... What powers I had, what it was like living with other dead and undead beings: phantoms, poltergeists, the other ghosts in the castle. He particularly was interested in the ghosts of each House, especially our Grey Lady of Ravenclaw; he was so fascinated by the Dead."

She sighed deeply then suddenly demanded, "What do you think about him?"

"He sounds... he sounds..." Penelope was at a loss for words. "He sounds lovely, Myrtle."

"Yes, he was. He was very, very lovely," agreed the ghost emphatically. Behind the thick-framed glasses, her little eyes became misty. "But then, he went away. Like all boys." Silver tears welled in Myrtle's small, see-through eyes, and she gasped as tears flooded down her face. "I always hoped Tom would die here and share my S-bend with me forever. He actually told me he liked that idea; he really, truly did!"

Abruptly, Myrtle perked up. Smiling maliciously, she informed, "But now, I've got a new one; a new boy, that is, and he's quite famous. No one'll ever ignore me again!" Confidentially, Myrtle revealed, "Although, he's only been here once." She gave Penelope an impish look from behind her lanky hair, half-hiding her face. "I first met him in the girl's lavatory on the first floor years ago, so it's been going on for quite some time," she disclosed self-importantly. Then, Myrtle giggled. "But he was here, just once, only a few weeks ago."

"He's a Prefect and has only been here once?" Penelope was confused.

"Oh, no, he's not a Prefect, but he does have dark hair. Which I like – a lot!" Myrtle hummed to herself contentedly.

"Myrtle, only Prefects are allowed in here," insisted Penelope.

"Guess Cedric forgot to tell him that when he gave him the password." She smiled wickedly. "But then, Cedric is more brawn than brains – Oooo, you should see his muscular, sculpted body – what a toned torso, all the way down," she described naughtily. "Have you seen it?"

"I should say not!" denied Penelope adamantly.

Myrtle smirked at Penny's puritan response. Then, she smiled slyly and continued, "As I was saying, Cedric's not as smart as him, couldn't figure out how to open his big egg; well, it took him forever to discover how – Cedric's rather thick that way, not as quick... not as clever as the other one." She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "My new boy is also a four-eyed. Like me. We have so much in common."

Penelope started fuming. Dark hair, spectacles – the Golden Egg – Harry Potter!

"Harry Potter, Myrtle? Your new boyfriend is Harry Potter? And he was here with Cedric Diggory?" asked Penelope carefully, needing to hear it from Myrtle's own lips. So, Gryffindor's golden boy is up to some sneaky, underhand tactics with pretty-boy Cedric to win the Triwizard Tournament?

"Yes! The one and only! You see, Cedric brought his golden egg to the bathroom first, played around with it, and then – oops!" Myrtle purred, "Can't tell what happened next – I'm sworn to secrecy!" She relished the flushed look on Penny's face before continuing. "Soon after, Harry brought in his egg. And well, let's just say, they're both in cahoots about winning this tournament!"

Penelope's blood started to boil. It's a wizard's world! First, Percy, doing what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, as long as he wanted, and now that he has something better ... the Ministry, being Cornelius Fudge's side-kick ... nothing else matters! Penelope guffawed so loudly that Myrtle jumped. Bitterly, she contemplated, Cedric and Harry – they can just do what they want, break all the rules when it suits them, without obligation or consideration to the regulations – rules are set to protect, to nurture, to love! In her emotional state, Penelope's thoughts jumped back to Percy. Why did you stop loving me? What was wrong with me? Was everything we shared just a lie?

Overwhelmed and dwelling on all her feelings of betrayal, she thought forlornly, It is all so unfair!

Penelope shot out of the water before she started bawling in front of the deluded ghost. What she really wanted to do was to find Cedric and give him a piece of her mind; she wasn't going to let him break the rules as a Prefect and get away with it.

As she rushed to dry and dress herself, she hurriedly explained, "I'm late for my Prefect duties, Myrtle. Very late. We can continue our talk next time – this is my allotted private hour here, so I'll see you soon. All right? I very much want to hear more about your Tom, as well as Harry, any time you'd like."

Gazing wide-eyed at Penelope, the ghost was now sitting cross-legged, hovering on the poolside, the steam creeping through her translucent form. "You've forgotten your bracelet," Myrtle said, pointing towards the silver band shining on the tiled floor. "It's got one pretty blue bead. Why are the other two white?"

"It's a long story," Penny replied, picking up her Charmed bracelet with haste.

"You're not upset, are you?" enquired Myrtle suspiciously.

"No, no, of course not," covered Penelope, thinking quickly. "I'm just late for my Prefect rounds; it's curfew time." Fully dressed, she pulled out her wand and flicked it to dry her hair. That sneaky Potter! How dare he? Whatever it is he's up to! she fumed. "You say Harry's nice to you, Myrtle?"

"Oh yes, we're ever so cosy. In fact, I'm going to offer to share my S-bend with him when he dies."

Poor Myrtle, Penelope thought, pitying her. She forced a smile on her face as she headed to the exit. "That's nice, Myrtle. I'm sure he'll like that." She chose not to comment on how the big-headed Gryffindor would probably say anything to humour the miserable, lonely soul.

As Penny's hand turned the handle, opening the door, she heard Myrtle warn, "Remember, you made a promise to me... not to tell anyone." More eerily, Myrtle pointed out, "Remember that I haunted Olive Hornby – oooh, it was horrible!"

Penelope swerved around to reassure Myrtle, but the ghost had disappeared and only the faint trickling and hum of effervescent waters flowing slowly down the drain was to be seen and heard.

Slightly unnerved, Penelope walked back down the hall, deliberating how she could keep her promise to Myrtle but still penalise Diggory and Potter. She was infuriated by Diggory breaking the Prefect oath of secrecy and then plotting and cheating with another Triwizard champion. That Potter! He shouldn't even be in the Triwizard Tournament! And now he and Diggory are conspiring together? Who would have thought Potter would be up to something so sneaky? Oh, it just makes my blood boil! A flash of the stuck-up Percy's face, entranced by Minister Fudge, went through her mind. Snobby, conniving Gryffindors!

She manoeuvred the moving staircases down to ground level and was about to proceed towards the Hufflepuff area to find Cedric when she heard the muffled sounds of voices. She headed down a seemingly-empty corridor, turned the corner, and walked into the middle of anxious dispute. Both boys were wearing gold and burgundy House ties. They were none other than Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter.

Like a bull, upon catching sight of Ron, she saw red, and it wasn't because of his hair. Percy's stupid little brother – ugh!

"You, Potter! Come here!"

Harry looked up from his heated whispering to see the irate Prefect. "You calling me?"

"Yes, I'm calling you, a word – now!"

Harry took a step towards her and asked, "Well, what is it?"

"Ten points each from Gryffindor, for being out after curfew!"

"What? That's outrageous!" protested Harry.

"Lighten up, Penny!" piped in Ron Weasley. "We just needed some private space for a bit of a, um, pep talk for Harry. Gryffindors, err, Hogwarts students, need to support their Triwizard champion."

In truth, they had been desperately brainstorming ideas on how Harry would be able to stay underwater for an hour for the second Triwizard task. In the precious time remaining, breaking into the library's Restricted Section had presented itself as one way to research and discover unknown spells, and they had simply lost track of time in their scheming and planning and had left Harry's Invisibility Cloak back at Gryffindor Tower. "You can understand that, can't you, Penny?" Ron gave her a goofy smile and a wink, thinking it endearing.

"Haven't you enough adoration and support for that big head of yours already, Potter?" blurted Penelope before she could stop herself. She turned and glared at Ron. "And don't call me Penny!"

"Oi! No wonder my brother dumped you," huffed Ron half-jokingly. "Never knew you had such a temper, Clearwater."

Penny's face turned redder than the Weasley's hair. "You – you," she blustered, choked with emotion. "Everything's a joke for you Weasleys; meaningless, isn't it? How I ever cared for one of your idiotic brothers is beyond me!"

Turning her frustration back to Harry, unable to control her anger and forgetting what she'd promised Myrtle, she challenged, "Are you well-prepared for the second task? Are you telling everyone the secret of how you've arrived at your new-found confidence, Potter? Or, is that just between you and Cedric?"

Harry's mouth gaped open, and he blinked. Bloody hell! How does she know? Not knowing how to respond to the Ravenclaw Prefect's questioning, Harry remained silent.

"Nothing to say, Potter? Five points from Gryffindor!"

"You can't dock points from me for not answering you!"

Accusatorily, she lashed out, "I know what you've done, Potter! Just wait until everyone finds out!"

"Done? What are you implying, Clearwater? Spill it!"

"Yeah, spit it out! You've no proof Harry's done anything wrong!" challenged Ron.

"Is there a problem, Miss Clearwater?"

Everyone fell silent, and their gaze fell in the direction of the sound of the Potions master's voice. Snape had silently crept up behind them in characteristic style.

"No, sir," responded Penelope, barely able to address the professor. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, hoping he had not just witnessed her atypical behaviour.

"No?" Snape gazed at the Gryffindor duo, his black eyes glittering. Only the deliberately portentous sound of his steps on the stone was heard as he walked slowly towards them. "Let us see... Weasley being insolent to a Prefect – that's worth another five points!"

Ron bit his lip, muffling a protest.

"And why, pray tell, are the two of you even here? What are you up to, one wonders?" He peered dangerously at Potter.

"They said they were trying to have a private moment with each other, sir," offered Penelope neutrally.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? A private moment?" He leered at the Gryffindor pair. "How very touching."

Remembering catching Potter and Weasley near the rosebushes outside at the Yule Ball, Snape gritted his teeth and then smirked. "Yes, you two are inseparable, quite the couple, in fact. Again, one wonders..." Pleased that both boys' faces flushed scarlet at his snide innuendo, he continued in hopes of goading them further, daring them to retort. "Is Gryffindor Tower so unruly that you are compelled to loiter around the corridors in search of a private moment together? Yes, life as a pint-sized celebrity does have its downside, doesn't it, Potter?" Snape gave a pointed glance to Ron, eyeing him up and down, before continuing with, "In spite of your stardom, all of your pictures, Rita Skeeter's interviews..." Snape looked as if he might spit. "Your tangled love life doesn't do the newspapers justice, does it? Enquiring minds wish to know." Snape's sarcastic tone dropped, and with a hardened viciousness, he said, "I, however, do not. I know what I know about you, Potter, regardless of what's spouted in your press cuttings."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, not responding, knowing that Snape was trying to provoke him. Ron eyed Snape with defeated, yet heated dismay, clenching his fists.

"Perhaps your overlarge head has clouded your sense of time, Potter," pointed out Snape quietly, egging him on, hoping for an excuse to take an easy ten more points from Gryffindor. "Or is it merely that you consider rules to be beneath you?"

"Exactly!" interjected Penny, so caught up with Professor Snape's scalding reprimand that she forgot herself. Self-consciously, she quickly apologised, "I'm sorry, sir."

Surprisingly, Professor Snape benignly replied, "Not at all, Miss Clearwater." Giving her an inquisitive, knowing look, he enquired, "Is there anything else you wish to add?"

Penny couldn't betray Moaning Myrtle. She wouldn't do it. Besides the fleeting thoughts of not wanting to suffer the same haunting as Olive Hornby ... who truly knew what Myrtle was capable of? ... she would never knowingly betray anyone's trust.

She offered, "Sir, if, let's say, someone were to catch Potter red-handed in a compromising position..." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Or, hypothetically speaking, catch him in an action which could be construed as breaking the rules of the Triwizard Tournament, wouldn't this be grounds for disqualification, sir?"

"Clearwater, you've no proof..." exploded Harry, unable contain his indignation.

"No, but I've a strong suspicion, Potter!" And much more! She wanted to add, but didn't. Instead, she challenged him to admit the injustice of his actions. "What if everyone went through life doing underhanded activities to gain unfair advantages? It wouldn't be fair, would it?"

"Well, life isn't fair, Clearwater!" quipped Harry.

Snape's quiet voice cut in with a dangerous edge. "No, life isn't fair, Potter."

A deadly silence ensued; Snape's sudden intensified demeanour had mollified the three students for different reasons.

"I agree, Miss Clearwater, disqualification... amongst other things," Snape softly whispered, watching the delinquent duo, enjoying their barely-restrained anger. He then turned appreciatively to the young witch who seemed satisfied too, but was still struggling with suppressed emotion. "Again, is there anything more you would like to say?"

"At this time..." Penelope looked up into her Professor's eyes, her insides fluttering pleasurably. "Nothing else, sir."

Unexpectedly, Snape offered, "If something else should occur to you, do not hesitate to speak to me. Potter is in dire need of assistance to correct his arrogance."

He hates Potter with a passion! realised Penelope. Perhaps luck was on her side; she now had an excuse to approach Professor Snape outside of the classroom and discuss Potter's miscreant behaviour. If she squealed on Potter, she might have new opportunities to see Snape on her own and get to know other sides to her Potions master.

As Snape noted a soft blush on the Ravenclaw Prefect's cheeks, he turned to Potter and Weasley. He recalled the missing Boomslang skin, stolen from his office weeks ago, on the same night as Filch had found Potter's Golden Egg, along with the enchanted parchment which he had seen in Potter's possession once before. Mad-Eye had confiscated both items at the last moment, taking away the proof which Snape had needed to demonstrate to Dumbledore that The Boy Who Lived was nothing more than a nasty, indulged little git, unworthy of the pristine pedestal the Headmaster had placed him on – worthy of protection, yes, but sainthood, no...

"I'm warning you, Potter, if I find you..." Snape gave a sharp glance again at Ron. "... or one of your cohorts taking a night-time stroll anywhere remotely near my office..." His eyes narrowed, and he gave a fleeting glance towards Penelope. "Even Mad-Eye Moody won't be able to protect you." Privately, he thought, I will find out why and how you broke into my office – I'll make you pay! The contemplation of various modes of retribution caused a pleasurable feeling to surge through him.

Controlling himself to not reveal further detailed accusations, Snape addressed the immediate issue at hand. "Well, Miss Clearwater, regarding the dynamic duo here – they are indeed out of their dormitories out of hours, are they not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then, Prefect?" nudged Snape, demurely, his lips slightly curling.

"Weasley's insolence, and both his and Potter's loitering combined," summarised Penny, "I think we should make it a round thirty points from Gryffindor!"

Snape gave a satisfied smile, his eyes gleaming with soft malice.

Ron and Harry were shocked into outraged silence, barely containing the vehemence they were feeling. Seething, they waited in strained patience for any further sentencing; surely Snape would add on a detention or two, such as cleaning the toilets with toothbrushes, Muggle-style.

Snape softly added, "Miss Clearwater, as Potter has an unfortunate habit of wandering around after hours, regardless of the rules, escorting him back to Gryffindor Tower would be most prudent, for his own good, as well as Mr Weasley's. We wouldn't won't either of them to wander off."

"Of course, sir, I'll take them."

"Miss Clearwater?"

"Yes, sir?"

"If either of these two dares to give you the slightest hint of cheek, you are to come to me at once! Detention might help deter and control their wandering ways as well as their mouths." The Potions master had an odd expression on his face: his lips seemed slightly turned up, not smirking, but as if pleasantly admiring something.

"Thank you, I will, sir." Penelope looked directly into Snape's eyes. "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Clearwater?"

"Thank you for everything, sir." For, indeed, being around Professor Snape caused her to feel useful, valued – he was ever so courteous towards her in Potions class as well as any random encounters in the corridors when on Prefect patrol. I feel like my old self again – before Percy... Snape makes me feel almost like... a respected equal... Penelope felt her face burning and quickly turned to guide Weasley and Potter away with her.

Snape watched as Penelope walked away, escorting the deflated and resigned Potter and Weasley. For the first time in a long while, he felt pleasingly calm with the revelation that Miss Clearwater was an unexpected kindred spirit regarding her opinion of the golden-boy Potter.

Witches... he ruminated. Miss Clearwater is definitely full of surprises; her uncanny, delicate understanding of the fine properties of Potions, her unexpected alliance against Potter ... there is clearly more to her than meets the eye ... her placid façade and passive demeanour covers an impressive talent and keen intellect balanced with a passion for knowledge and justice. How naive, idealistic... What a shame she'll have to learn the hard way... like us all... life is indeed not fair...

With his thoughts quickly turning dark, Snape sighed heavily and glided away. He needed to check his office, a recently acquired habit, in hopes of catching the thief of three-and-a-half weeks ago. A faint smile flickered across his face as he realised that tonight he could rest easy, as Potter was being bodily escorted to Gryffindor Tower. But, being a creature of habit, Snape compulsively completed his ritual.

After personally seeing Potter and Weasley to the Fat Lady's portrait, Penelope continued to patrol the corridors in a whirlwind, contemplating the revelation of Professor Snape's animosity and, yes, hatred towards Harry Potter.

When she returned from her patrolling to the comfort of her room in Ravenclaw Tower, she dressed for bed and snuggled under the warmth of her blankets. In the soft lighting of her bedside sconce, Penelope relaxed and remembered Snape's guised, admiring gaze and smile. He did smile, didn't he? Could it be...?

She jolted upright, suddenly remembering about the second task, and brought her wrist towards the light. Warmth flooded her body as she saw the second bead had changed to blue, just like the first bead which Myrtle had noticed earlier. She sighed and lay down again. Snape had smiled, and she felt sure they had connected with each other on a deeper, more personal level. If that didn't satisfy the Protean Charm and win her the second task, then she couldn't imagine what would.

Extinguishing the candle and closing the four-poster curtains, she thought of Snape's fathomless black eyes, followed by the pressure of his lips on hers, and the slow weight of his body pressing into hers into the softness of her mattress. As she fell slowly into sweet slumber, her fingers traced gently over the second bead of her bracelet and she returned to dreamland – to Snape, giving her full attention, body and soul to him...

When the weekend arrived, a fierce, wintry storm blew outside, and the howling gale wailed against the castle walls like shrieking seagulls at high tide.

After breakfast, Luca waited by the entrance to the Great Hall; Apparition class had moved indoors to avoid the unsettled weather, and Luca intended to claim a good spot in which to practise.

The first two Saturday-morning lessons had been conducted outdoors in February's crisp, chilly air, and the students had watched their breath freeze in wispy spirals as they laid their wooden hoops on the frosty ground, feeling wholly uninspired and deeply resentful of the repetitive and unrelenting mantra of 'Destination, Determination, Deliberation' delivered by the Ministry of Magic Instructor.

Luca had quickly realised that Apparition required an intense amount of concentration, and his progress was being prevented by the constant distraction of students screwing up their faces and pirouetting like novice ballet dancers. Today, he intended to find a quiet corner of the Great Hall, away from the chatter and commotion, and make a serious attempt to Apparate. If he could be the first student to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat, then perhaps he could make Snape smile. It was a long shot, but Luca was fast running out of options; weeks ago the second bead of Alicia's bracelet had changed colour, followed by Georgina's and Penelope's, and Luca only had four days left in which to complete his second task.

Luca heard Wilkie Twycross's arrival and hastily stuffed a crumpled copy of Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them inside his robes. The diminutive Apparition Instructor walked through the Entrance Hall, accompanied by Professor Flitwick, and both straightened their hats, askew from the ferocious wind outside. The two wizards met the three other Heads of House at the bottom of the Marble Staircase, McGonagall and Sprout shaking Twycross's hand whilst Snape retrieved the key to unlock the Great Hall.

Luca felt a flutter of foreboding as the black form of the Potions master swept towards him like a nefarious phantom.

Jaded resignation was plainly written across Snape's ashen features; he knew the next hour would be one of hellish boredom and annoyance, intermingled with the ubiquitous possibility of mortal injury. There was nothing like Splinching to get the blood pumping on a Saturday morning.

"Good morning, Mr Caruso," Snape said as he placed the large brass key into the door's lock. He tilted his head towards the Hufflepuff whilst simultaneously turning the key, setting forth a succession of creaking hinges and clunking mechanisms within the door.

Luca shuddered at the combined sound and imagery, looking into Snape's dark, glittering eyes. "G-good morning, Professor."

"And what brings you here so promptly on a Saturday morning?" Snape asked, his voice bearing signs of mild interest.

"I wanted to bagsy a nice quiet spot to practise, sir," Luca said as the door opened, and he followed his professor into the hall. "I'd like to be the first student to successfully Apparate."

"Well, well," Snape said, turning to appraise the young man, "our heroic Hufflepuff now wishes to prove himself worthy of the House of Ravenclaw? I can't imagine who you're trying to impress this time..."

"N-no one, sir," Luca stammered. "I'm just determined, that's all. No pun intended." He looked sheepishly at the floor, expecting Snape's sarcasm at any moment.

Momentarily forgetting the young man was not from his own House, Snape slipped into a mentorship role. "Determination, Deliberation and Destination are crucial," he said, flicking his wand to light the candles in the hall. "If you pay close attention to Mr Twycross, the essentials are there; all that remains is to focus your mind. You must be determined to arrive at your destination and move with deliberate intent." Snape paused, looking down his long, hooked nose at Luca. "I daresay if you were in Slytherin, you would understand the value of ambition, and find Apparition easier."

"That's an interesting point, sir," Luca replied. "I thought the exercise simply required concentration, but you're right; ambition is very important too."

"Indeed it is, Mr Caruso. Perhaps today will reveal a little bit of Slytherin in you..."

I would love to have a bit of Slytherin in me, Luca thought wryly, avoiding Snape's gaze.

Soon, the Great Hall was ringing with the sound of bustling students, lining themselves up with wooden hoops and preparing for another hour of tedium and frustration. Mr Twycross gave a brief lecture, restating the salient points of Apparition theory, whilst the four Heads of House spread themselves strategically around the room, poised to pounce upon students and reattach limbs and appendages at a moment's notice.

The first half hour ticked by slowly, and Luca remained in his quiet corner, staring at the circular piece of stone floor into which he was expected to Apparate. So far, he had perfected his twirl into a graceful movement, much like the one demonstrated by the Instructor, and so believed he'd mastered the art of Deliberation. Merlin knew he was Determined enough to Apparate; his wish to make Snape smile made that part of the exercise straight forward. But his yearning to reach his Destination was definitely lacking. There was nothing inspiring about a patch of flagged stone floor five feet in front of him.

Suddenly a scream echoed around the hall, and Luca turned, startled, to see Jared Simpleton standing inside his hoop, but with both of his arms missing. The two limbs lay yards away, leaking blood onto the floor like a scene from a horror film. Snape and McGonagall descended on Jared's hoop, and there was an almighty bang, followed by a thick haze of purple fumes.

The miasma gradually dispersed, revealing Jared with his arms reattached, staring at his hands as if they were not his own. McGonagall put her arm around his shoulders and led him out of the hall, taking him to Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing.

It was the third Splinching in as many weeks. Usually, when the students witnessed the gruesome ordeal happening to one in their midst, they were unnerved, fast losing their appetite for learning.

But Luca could not afford to give up on his ambition. He watched Snape's impressive profile weaving its way towards the dais to adopt a new lookout post, and Luca's chest compressed in a sigh. There was only one destination worth risking his life for, and he was staring right at it. His yearning increased, summoning an image of elegant pale fingers intertwining his own, the Potions master's shallow, hot breath on his neck, his lips brushing his skin, sending rivulets of electrical current down his spine...

And then an idea came to him.

Destination, Determination, Deliberation.

Luca executed a stylish twirl, and everything went black.

The breath in his lungs seemed to have been sucked out, and his whole body felt as though it were being squeezed and pushed through a narrow hose, swirling in zigzags like a deflating balloon.

Suddenly, his feet found the floor, and he guzzled an enormous breath of air, his eyes streaming with tears. Luca blinked to clear his vision, and to his combined shock and delight, he found himself face-to-face with his Potions master. Nervously, he shook his arms to make sure they were still attached, and he found he was still in one piece.

Peals of applause and whoops of delight resonated around the Great Hall. Several students jumped up and down, clapping excitedly, their enthusiasm reignited. Luca remained glued to the spot, staring into the Potions master's shrewd black eyes, utterly transfixed by their bottomless depths. Gathering himself, he vigilantly watched Snape's expression, praying for the elation in the hall to reach Snape's lips, curling them upwards...

From the corner of his vision he saw Wilkie Twycross Apparate onto the dais, and Luca heard his offer of congratulations. Snape, however, merely raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms. His lips didn't even twitch. As the applause subsided, Luca's jubilation faded to despair, and he inwardly beseeched his professor for some kind of reaction. Any reaction.

"Come on, sir, not even a little smile?" Luca heard himself say.

"You may have Apparated successfully, Mr Caruso, but you missed your Destination by twenty yards. Another three yards and you'd have Apparated into a solid stone wall and your life would have been lost. This is hardly a cause for celebration." Snape turned on his heel to step down from the dais.

"But, sir!" Luca implored.

Snape did not reply.

Useless arguments constructed themselves in Luca's head whilst anger sizzled and spat in his arms and chest. He couldn't believe the object of his heart's desire could be so miserly... So miserable.

One day I'll cheer him up... Luca thought. Cheer him up... Merlin, that's it!

Before his rational mind could quash the insane impulse, Luca had raised his wand directly at Snape and he was shouting, "Letifico!"

The Cheering Charm flew from Luca's wand in a flash of brilliant white, but the spell crashed into Snape's instinctively-cast Shield Charm, inches in front of the Potions master's overly-large nose.

The entire hall fell silent.

Dozens of pairs of eyes focused on the dais, where Snape and Luca were standing six feet apart, horror unfurling across Luca's face. Snape was poised like a panther waiting to strike until Luca lowered his wand and dropped his head in shame. With three springing steps, Snape wrapped his vice-like grip around Luca's arm and dragged him out of the Great Hall. Spectators gasped with apprehension and muttered amongst themselves; no-one dared laugh. Not in front of the Head of Slytherin.

Luca stumbled behind Snape, feeling as though a stony fist had lodged itself in his throat. The doors closed behind them, and Snape led him away from the Entrance Hall, down the corridor which led to the dungeons.

"Please, sir," Luca gasped. "I'm sorry, sir!"

"HOW DARE YOU!" Snape shouted, pulling on Luca's arm until he was pinned up against the wall. Snape took a steadying breath, reining in his temper, but kept Luca firmly pressed against the cold sandstone. "How dare you," he whispered dangerously. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Luca had previously envisaged Snape asking him this question in an entirely different context. The feel of the Potions master's hot breath against his face was not quite what he'd imagined, but the proximity of his heaving chest was almost more than Luca could stand. He tried desperately to force his faculties into coherency.

"Casting a Cheering Charm on one of your teachers?" Snape continued, his eyes gleaming. "Casting a Cheering Charm upon me?"

"I-I'm sorry, Professor Snape! I... I didn't mean to!"

"You didn't mean to?" Snape repeated incredulously.

The Potions master's thin lips were unbearably close to Luca's own; his heart seemed to skip several beats, and his muscles became flaccid, like a rag doll being held up by the arms.

"Good day, gentlemen."

The voice came from behind them, and Snape's grip loosened immediately. Luca fought to stay upright. Snape stepped away to reveal Professor Dumbledore, wearing a calm, serene expression, as if he were stood at the side of a pond, feeding the ducks.

"Headmaster," Snape said stiffly.

Luca merely nodded; words were beyond him.

"To what do we owe this little quarrel?"

Snape clenched his fists. "Mr Caruso attacked me with a Cheering Charm, Headmaster."

"Attacked you?" Dumbledore asked mildly, peering at the Potions master with benign amusement.

"Yes," Snape stated, somewhat confused.

"Severus, you are the only wizard I've ever known who would deem a Cheering Charm a personal attack," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Snape scowled but remained silent.

"It seems Mr Caruso was unsuccessful," Dumbledore observed dryly, his blue eyes sparkling. "I shall take over from here, Severus. Please, return to the Apparition class; I believe Wilkie is missing two facilitators at present?"

Luca's face fell; his chances of making his Potions master smile dwindled ever further. He watched dolefully as Snape's black, billowing cloak flapped through the doorway to the Great Hall, and he felt like a wretched failure.

"I think you'd do better to return to your House, Mr Caruso, than to follow him back into the lesson."

Luca dragged his eyes away from the closed door.

"I shall deduct twenty points from Hufflepuff for casting a spell at a teacher," said Dumbledore, considering the young man carefully.

Luca opened his mouth, in an attempt to explain himself, but the Headmaster raised a hand, silencing him.

"Think yourself lucky that the punishment is not more severe."

Luca nodded glumly.

"Come along then; I shall escort you to the kitchens. I'm sure the house-elves will oblige with a slab of chocolate cake for the first sixth-year to successfully Apparate."

"But, sir – how did you know?"

Dumbledore tapped his crooked nose with a long, bony finger and set off towards the stairs. "Just between us, young Luca, I would have relished seeing the effect of that particular charm on our Potions master."

The Headmaster smiled, gesturing for Luca to descend to the kitchens, and Luca reflected how much easier it had been to raise a smile from Professor Dumbledore. He fiddled with his bracelet. The second quartz bead glimmered pristine white; not a speck of mirth had registered on Snape's face.

"A word of advice," Dumbledore offered, preparing to leave Luca at the entrance to the house-elf domain. "You're barking up the wrong tree with Professor Snape."

With a tiny wink from his piercing blue eyes, the Headmaster turned and walked back down the corridor, leaving Luca dumbfounded.

The twenty-third of February arrived faster than any of the Four-House champions could have imagined. Once more, in the dead of night, when all of their Housemates were safely tucked up in bed, they each made their way to the chilly Boathouse down by the Black Lake for the winner of the second task to be announced.

Luca and Penelope arrived first and were huddled around a small gas-lamp for warmth, their breath fogging in the freezing air.

"I can't believe I've failed," moaned Luca miserably, jangling his bracelet for emphasis. "I didn't even get a grimace out of him. If anything, I just managed to piss Snape off even more."

"Well, you did fire a spell at him," Penelope reminded him, not unkindly. "No wonder he was pissed. I still can't believe you did that! That took some guts."

"It wasn't guts, it was desperation," Luca grumbled. "Perhaps I should have taken a leaf out of Alicia's book and sent Professor Snape a Valentine's Day card instead. Anything to crack that stoic composure of his."

"Alicia told you about the Valentine incident two years ago?"

"Yeah, that Gryffindor certainly has courage. Although I'm pretty sure sending a Valentine to the Potions master borders on stupidity." Luca folded his arms across his chest in an effort to keep warm. "Urgh, where are the other two? I'm surprised Alicia isn't here already, going on about the Runespoor incident for the millionth time."

As if on cue, the portrait of Percival Pratt swung open on creaking hinges, and in came Georgina and Alicia, the latter of which was smiling serenely.

"About time, you two," Luca chided, sounding just a little harsher than he'd intended.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Hufflepuff," Georgina answered, batting him lightly on the arm. "This task was your idea, after all. Talk about falling on your own sword!"

"And hello to you," said Alicia, giving him her most dazzling smile before greeting both him and Penny with a hug.

The portrait swung closed on the freezing Boathouse, and Percival waved his quill with an almost regal flourish before greeting them all with a poem.

"Not every gent is prone to chuckles,

And not every man will grin.

To make this sort of person smile

Is certainly no easy win!

Some say personality is key,

Others say your charm;

But you don't need these things

To receive a smile so warm.

Sometimes the simple things

Can be most pleasing to spy.

Be yourself, show your wit;

There is more to you than meets his eye."

The four champions looked around at each other, and Georgina raised her eyebrow sardonically at the poet's latest offering.

But no sooner had the portrait finished his rhyme than the distant, echoing chimes of the clock striking midnight began to toll ominously. The four friends glanced down at their bracelets, which had once more begun to emanate light as the Protean Charm activated the second bead. After a few moments, with a poof and final crackle, the luminous light faded.

Luca's bead stayed resolutely opaque. "No surprises there, then," he muttered.

Penny's bead had turned a vibrant light blue. Her face fell. This was not what she'd expected at all.

Georgina's bracelet, meanwhile, was shining with a bead of deepest, darkest green. She could not help but feel a swoop of disappointment in her stomach as everyone turned to Alicia, who was now holding her wrist out and staring open-mouthed at her own bracelet. Alicia's bead was jet-black, shining in the gaslight like the Black Lake.

"I... I've won!" Alicia couldn't quite believe it.

Neither could Penelope. Her face was thunderous.

"Well done, Alicia," Georgina said stiffly, unable to stop the snakes of jealousy writhing once again in her stomach.

She then nudged Penelope sharply in the ribs, and the Ravenclaw bit out, "Yeah, well done."

Luca was the only one who could put his disappointment to one side, and he congratulated Alicia warmly. "One each," he grinned, shaking his bracelet at her.

"Well, we still have one task left to go. This tournament isn't over yet!" Georgina reminded everyone.

Luca groaned. "Oh god, I've been dreading this one..."

"Get detention with Snape," Georgina clarified. "I wouldn't worry, Luca. If you fire another Cheering Charm at him, he'll have you cleaning cauldrons for a week!"

"Not funny, Ciccia," Luca replied, mock-pouting.

"I've been dreading this one, too," Alicia admitted. "At least we don't have to worry about it until the start of summer term."

Only Penelope remained silent, as though she were lost in thought.

Before they could ruminate on this any further, the portrait of Percival Pratt gave a polite yet firm sort of cough, and all of the champions looked up at him with surprise. After clearing his throat, he began to speak once more.

"And now all the players are evenly matched,

But that was given since the plan was first hatched.

Anyone now can win the prize,

Of affections from a teacher whom others despise.

Good luck, dear children,

Your goal is in sight.

But this poet has some last

Advice to offer, if I might.

It is a proverb so old,

Never mind who first said it,

But be careful what you wish for...

You just might get it!"

And with that, the poet laid his quill down on his desk, closed his eyes and began snoring gently in his frame.

"Blimey, I think all that hard work dreaming up those poems has tired him out," quipped Luca, to giggles from Alicia and Georgina. Penny was checking her watch anxiously.

"It's late! And if we get caught being out at this time, we'll all be in detention and that won't even count towards the next task! Come on guys, we need to get back."

And so the portrait again swung open, Percival Pratt still sleeping soundly throughout, once more revealing the hidden passageway to Hogwarts. The foursome climbed out of the Boathouse to return to their respective dormitories, curious about the Triwizard Tournament's second task tomorrow and pondering on their own third and final task: to get a detention with Snape.

---

Authors' Note:

Written by nagandsev, Agnus Castus and star_girl with a poem by bluerain1984.

The Snapettes would be thrilled to receive your review!