And that's the problem, she thought later as she lay in bed, staring up at the canopy overhead. The dorm was dark, and quiet. (This was a hoot in itself. Imagine--all the college she'd done, and now she was sharing a room with three other girls--all of them young enough to be her daughter, had she been that way inclined.)

She hadn't really flirted before--not consciously, anyway. She'd always assumed (there was that word again) that if she had, it would have been met with derision--good natured, or otherwise. It had never occurred to her that someone would take her seriously.

I could have misunderstood, she thought. After all, it isn't as if I have a massive amount of past experience to compare it with. Maybe I ought to lay low for awhile.

This was what she thought--consciously--as she drifted off to sleep. But deep inside, a tiny portion of her mind was doing a gleeful dance of impatience.

Potions was her last class of the day, and she was a little late getting there. Her longer legs might be an advantage, but she wasn't used to magical architecture, and its tendency to rearrange, so that lost her some time. When she arrived, the only open spots were in the front row--there were several vacant desks there. Apparently only Slytherins felt comfortable sitting that close to the watchful eyes of the Potions Master.

Snape looked up and watched for a moment as she hovered in the doorway, scanning the room. At last he said, "Unless you have already mastered the spell for creating a new des, Miss Mozelle, I suggest that you take a seat." He pointed to the desk directly before him. "There." She took a step forward, letting her hand rest on the empty desk at the outside corner. He shook his head and pointed again. She received a few sympathetic looks as she walked over and took the seat.

Snape stood up and began his lecture. "You are here to learn potions. While it may not have the flare and flash of some of the other disciplines..." He shook his head. "I fear that few of you will be able to appreciate the art of this science. If you are willing to devote your studies, you can learn to move the very fabric of the universe." He stopped by Scribe's chair, looking down at her. "I suppose that's hard for the Muggle mind to grasp."

"You know," she said, so softly that only he could hear, "I bet you could actually insult me if you tried just a little harder." She raised her voice so that the class could hear. "Not really. After all, plain chemistry seems a lot like magic to me most of the time, so I don't see why I'd have a hard time accepting actual magic."

Snape frowned, but turned away from her. "What do you expect to get out of this class?" he asked a boy sitting behind Scribe.

He had been sniggering at Scribe, and Snape's sudden attention startled him. "A passing grade?" he squeaked.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Really? How optimistic," he said doubtfully. "And you?"

The girl he addressed (she had hair so red she might easily have been a Weasley) stuttered, "I... I need it to graduate."

Snape scowled, and pointed at another student. He said, "I hope to invent a potion that can be used as a really tasty diet soda."

Scribe twisted her head to look at him. "You mean they haven't managed that here, either? Well, good on you. I wish you well."

"And you, Miss Mozelle," said Snape. "What do you expect to get out of this class?"

"Honestly? I expect to learn how to do some things, and still not understand how they work, the same as I would with regular chemistry back home. I'll probably learn enough to get by, but not shine, and still be astonished with myself."

He nodded slowly. "An honest answer, but not a doltish one." He looked around the class. "I suppose we'd better start with the very basics. You will grind an ounce of sea snake scales into a very fine powder. Go on, and I don't want to see powder flying all over creation, so be sure to turn your head if you must sneeze."

The rest of the class was spent learning the difference between 'grind' and 'pulverize', and the differences between slicing, cubing, chopping, mincing, julienne, and decimating. Given her previous interest in cooking, Scribe did quite well on everything but the last. Who would have thought that it was possible to get anything finer than 'mince' without a food processor?

It was after dinner, and Scribe had caught up with Dumbledore as the students were leaving the dining hall, chattering excitedly. "An introduction to the unicorns. It's a school tradition. Each term the first year girls are brought out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to be introduced to the forest unicorns, and receive their blessing. The beasts are greatly attracted to innocent young maidens, you know, and they become restless if there are any nearby that haven't been inspected and blessed. Last year we were a bit late, and they actually came out onto the school grounds, and it isn't good for them to be out of the forest, you know. The first year girls, and whatever older girls wish, will be escorted to the forest edge by one of the female instructors, and the rest of the student body will hang back to observe."

"In other words, they only like virgins."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It's just that the unicorns are very particular with whom they associate. They have a general dislike of most men, and in women..." He trailed off at her cynical look. "Um, absolute physical purity isn't necessary, you understand. There was one girl from a very unfortunate family background who refused to go to meet them, certain that she'd be humiliated before the whole school. The gentle creatures sought her out, and all of them conferred their blessings. Then there was another girl I am quite sure was physically pure, but..." He shrugged. "She died some years later serving Voldemorte's cause, and the beasts chased her away, acting more threateningly than I've ever seen before. So you see, while nothing is absolute, it might be better if..."

"You don't have to convince me. Large hooved beasts make me a little nervous, anyway. I went through the 'horsy' stage in pre-adolescence, just like any other girl, but I never actually had dealings with equines."

Almost two dozen of them drifted out of the forest. They looked like small horses, except for the tiny beards, cloven hooves, and the gleaming spiral horns that grew from their foreheads. They were all shades of white, from snow to cream, pale gray, and even gleaming gold (like a Palomino), and one...

Dumbledore noticed her stare, and touched her arm. "The stallion."

He was fully as big as a large horse, and his coat was as dark and shiny as obsidian, but his horn (as long as a man's forearm, but tapering to a wicked point) was silver. He stepped almost daintily among the children, pausing to inspect each first year girl. They would stand still in breathless awe as his velvety soft muzzle quested over their shoulders and arms, then step back. "He's not touching his horn to any of them," Scribe observed. It had been explained to her that the touch of a unicorn's horn was its blessing. All the other unicorns were tapping the girls on their heads, shoulders, or arms.

"That is Apex. He has led the forest unicorns for nie on to two hundred years, and he very seldom confers a personal blessing. I believe that the last one was your mother, Harry," he said to Harry Potter. Apex was standing at the edge of the group of children and unicorns, looking toward the other gathered students. He lifted his head and stretched his neck toward them, breathing deeply, scenting the air. "I wonder what he's is up to?"

The unicorn tilted his head, as if puzzled by something, and began to walk slowly toward the gathering near the school. There was a surprised buzz among the assemblage. "This is most unusual," muttered Dumbledore He lifted his voice, "Please, everyone remain calm, and stay still. Unicorns are not normally aggressive, but they can be fierce fighters if they feel threatened."

Apex drew closer, swinging his head from side to side as he sifted through the scents that the evening breeze brought him. He shifted his course, angling slightly. When he was a dozen yards away, he stopped abruptly, head jerking up. He snorted and stamped, then headed directly toward Scribe.

She was frozen, eyes fixed on that sharp horn. It would be just as effective as any spear, should the animal decide to attack. She apparently wasn't the only one who thought that, because Snape pulled his wand and lifted it. Dumbledore caught his arm, though, hissing, "Wait!"

"Dumbledore, we can't risk her safety!" Snape replied hotly.

"A unicorn has never harmed an innocent, Severus."

"But..."

"You may hold yourself in readiness, but I don't think there will be any need."

Apex stopped only a foot or two away from Scribe, and regarded her with dark, intelligent eyes. She closed her eyes as he stretched his neck and began to sniff her delicately, soft nose nudging her bosom and neck, warm and surprisingly fragrant breath It smells like honeysuckle. How the heck do they do that? blowing over her face. Then Apex gave a satisfied snort. He bent his head and tapped her gently on the top of the head, then on both shoulders, like a king conferring a knighthood. Finally satisfied, he turned and trotted briskly back to his herd, neighing to them. They obediently turned, and in moments they had all melted back into the deepening forest shadows.

There was quiet among the assembled students and teachers. Scribe found all eyes trained on her. She sighed, and looked back at them wryly. "So? You've never seen a virgin before?" She noticed that Snape was watching her very closely. "And I have naturally curly hair, too." She turned, flicking her robes dramatically, and stalked into the school with as much dignity as she could muster under the collective eyes of Hogwarts.

She went directly to her dorm room, got into her nightshirt, and crawled into bed. The only thing marginally as humiliating as being outed as the school slut is being outed as a post adolescent virgin. Her dorm mates had arrived. She heard one of them clear her throat. "Yes, I know what 'doing it' entails, in its many and varied forms. How did I learn? By reading books. Take that to heart, ladies. You can learn a lot that way. I also had other visual aids, but we won't go into that right now. And no, I will not discuss it. Go home and pester your parents about it over the holidays. I'm not paid to be a sex education instructor, and I'm going to try not to do anything that might come back to bite me in the bottom. Now, go to sleep."

There were a few dissatisfied mutters, but the girls eventually crawled into bed, extinguishing their candles. Scribe pulled the pillow over her head to shut out the whispers. She didn't say any more. After all, they wouldn't be girls if they didn't gossip.

Well, she's not infirm or hideous, so I suppose that keeping her physical purity to this age should be considered worthy of recognition. After all, there must have been quite a few men willing to relieve her of her virtue. He slipped between the sheets and blew out the candle, thinking, I certainly intend to try.