THE GOOD GUY
Voldemort had been defeated. Finally. Now they were all celebrating in style. Well, most of them anyway.
Amy Madison rolled her eyes and slipped out of the Great Hall, the only reason she was even there was because she’d promised Dumbledore but there was only so much pointing and whispering a person could take, even if they were ‘morally ambiguous’.
“She’s the one. You know, the one you-know-who recruited from the hellmouth.” One gossiping witch said to another.
Another eye roll, but it hadn’t been as harsh as a lot of the comments made about her. Yes she had worked for Voldemort for a little while, but why did they always forget that she had swapped sides at least two weeks ago? Sure, the reason she switched was because she’d overheard Voldemort plotting her death as soon as the war was over, but that was just semantics really.
A voice stopped her in the hallway.
“You’re not leaving Miss Madison?”
Drat.
Amy put on her sunniest smile for the man that had given her sanctuary when she’d asked. “Just taking a breather, Professor.”
“Capital. Don’t be too long now, you promised me a dance remember?” Dumbledore called as he made his way back into the hall.
“How could I forget?” Amy sighed. “Oh joy.”
“He’s pretty spry for an old guy.”
Amy jumped back at the new voice from the shadows. “Who’s there?”
She was surprised when no other than Harry Potter stepped out into the flickering candle light of the hallway, pint glass in his hand. A second glance confirmed that the liquid in the beer glass was no butter beer, apparently the golden boy of the wizarding world had taken the Weasley twins up on the transfiguration lessons they’d been peddling on the Q.T.
“What are you, stupid? Don’t jump out at me like that, I could’ve killed you!”
“I doubt it. If your old boss couldn’t kill me then I don’t fancy your chances.” Harry said, leaning back again the wall smirking.
“A bit cocky aren’t we?”
“Isn’t that allowed?”
Amy shrugged. “For the man-of-the-moment? I suppose it is, just this once though.”
“Of course.”
Harry picked up the unmistakable click-clack of heels and teenage giggling approaching them from down the hall and ducked into the nearest classroom, taking care to grab Amy and pull her with him.
She scowled at him as she tripped into the room, grabbing a desk to stop from falling. “Hey! What are you hiding from, anyway? They all love you.”
“I’m guessing it’s the same thing that you’re hiding from; the points, the whispers. Being the Wicked Witch from the West can’t be much more inconspicuous than being the Boy Who Lived at these events.”
“No, I suppose not.” Amy said. She would have never have put her and Harry together like that, very few would, but in a way it fit.
“At least it’ll all die down when the novelty wears off. Give it a few hundred years and another dark wizard will rise and be defeated. Then no one will remember my name.” Harry said wryly.
“Tough break, kid.” Amy said and she couldn’t help but be reminded of Buffy. If the Slayer had met Harry a few years ago then she could have helped him, given him guidance and been the wise old barn owl etcetera etcetera.
Harry shrugged; he’d had enough pity to last several lifetimes. He considered calling her up on the use of the word ‘kid’ but she must have four years on his seventeen. He let it go and listened to the now silent corridor outside. “I think it’s safe to go back now. People will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“And I promised Dumbledore a dance.” Amy said, not looking anymore pleased with the prospect of going back than Harry was.
“It might not be so bad.”
“Yeah,” Amy said as she remembered his earlier words. “Well he’s pretty spry for an old guy.”
“That’s what they say.” Harry said, holding open the door to the now empty hallway for her.
“Thanks.” Amy looked around quickly to be sure that the hallway was as deserted as she thought before throwing herself at Harry.
By the time Harry realised what was happening, he was being thoroughly kissed by the brunette wicca. With a mental shrug, he returned the favour right there in the middle of the Hogwarts corridor.
It wasn’t every day a rather attractive, formerly-wicked witch launched themselves at you, after all.
Voldemort had been defeated. Finally. Now they were all celebrating in style. Well, most of them anyway.
Amy Madison rolled her eyes and slipped out of the Great Hall, the only reason she was even there was because she’d promised Dumbledore but there was only so much pointing and whispering a person could take, even if they were ‘morally ambiguous’.
“She’s the one. You know, the one you-know-who recruited from the hellmouth.” One gossiping witch said to another.
Another eye roll, but it hadn’t been as harsh as a lot of the comments made about her. Yes she had worked for Voldemort for a little while, but why did they always forget that she had swapped sides at least two weeks ago? Sure, the reason she switched was because she’d overheard Voldemort plotting her death as soon as the war was over, but that was just semantics really.
A voice stopped her in the hallway.
“You’re not leaving Miss Madison?”
Drat.
Amy put on her sunniest smile for the man that had given her sanctuary when she’d asked. “Just taking a breather, Professor.”
“Capital. Don’t be too long now, you promised me a dance remember?” Dumbledore called as he made his way back into the hall.
“How could I forget?” Amy sighed. “Oh joy.”
“He’s pretty spry for an old guy.”
Amy jumped back at the new voice from the shadows. “Who’s there?”
She was surprised when no other than Harry Potter stepped out into the flickering candle light of the hallway, pint glass in his hand. A second glance confirmed that the liquid in the beer glass was no butter beer, apparently the golden boy of the wizarding world had taken the Weasley twins up on the transfiguration lessons they’d been peddling on the Q.T.
“What are you, stupid? Don’t jump out at me like that, I could’ve killed you!”
“I doubt it. If your old boss couldn’t kill me then I don’t fancy your chances.” Harry said, leaning back again the wall smirking.
“A bit cocky aren’t we?”
“Isn’t that allowed?”
Amy shrugged. “For the man-of-the-moment? I suppose it is, just this once though.”
“Of course.”
Harry picked up the unmistakable click-clack of heels and teenage giggling approaching them from down the hall and ducked into the nearest classroom, taking care to grab Amy and pull her with him.
She scowled at him as she tripped into the room, grabbing a desk to stop from falling. “Hey! What are you hiding from, anyway? They all love you.”
“I’m guessing it’s the same thing that you’re hiding from; the points, the whispers. Being the Wicked Witch from the West can’t be much more inconspicuous than being the Boy Who Lived at these events.”
“No, I suppose not.” Amy said. She would have never have put her and Harry together like that, very few would, but in a way it fit.
“At least it’ll all die down when the novelty wears off. Give it a few hundred years and another dark wizard will rise and be defeated. Then no one will remember my name.” Harry said wryly.
“Tough break, kid.” Amy said and she couldn’t help but be reminded of Buffy. If the Slayer had met Harry a few years ago then she could have helped him, given him guidance and been the wise old barn owl etcetera etcetera.
Harry shrugged; he’d had enough pity to last several lifetimes. He considered calling her up on the use of the word ‘kid’ but she must have four years on his seventeen. He let it go and listened to the now silent corridor outside. “I think it’s safe to go back now. People will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“And I promised Dumbledore a dance.” Amy said, not looking anymore pleased with the prospect of going back than Harry was.
“It might not be so bad.”
“Yeah,” Amy said as she remembered his earlier words. “Well he’s pretty spry for an old guy.”
“That’s what they say.” Harry said, holding open the door to the now empty hallway for her.
“Thanks.” Amy looked around quickly to be sure that the hallway was as deserted as she thought before throwing herself at Harry.
By the time Harry realised what was happening, he was being thoroughly kissed by the brunette wicca. With a mental shrug, he returned the favour right there in the middle of the Hogwarts corridor.
It wasn’t every day a rather attractive, formerly-wicked witch launched themselves at you, after all.