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" I am not!" I hissed. "If I understand what you mean by profession." Sorry! Sorry! Sorry," she said quietly. "I am an escort. That is myprofession. Sometimes we are referred to as 'arm candy' or 'eye candy'.I am NOT what you may think I am." Ohhh how interesting and do you earn a living doing this...?" I replied."I earn a very very good living. I'm twenty-three and I can probablycontinue escorting until I'm fifty or sixty. There is a market forolder escorts simply because some older men prefer an older woman who isstill fashionable and intelligent. Ahhh, what about your date? If Imay ask?" A friend. We met by accident. He needed a date for the opening night.We enjoyed it so much and he enjoyed my company so he invited me to thisperformance. That's all." I shrugged my shoulders terminating thediscussion. John approached and the lady quickly gave me a business cardwhispering "I'm Cindy, call me; I'd like to chat" and with that sheentered the ladies room."Who was that?" John. . nowhere in them was his usual playfulness. They had seen pain. Lessa could respect that."What is it."Kine stepped up next to her, hand moving to the back of the chair next to her head. She looked up, defiant. His glance seemed to go down to her now larger breasts, or at least the necklace and lockets hanging between them, shaking his head as his eyes came back up to meet hers."It's over, Lessa."Those three words ... confused Lessa. They had meaning, yes. But, not one she immediately could apply to anything. Why was he bothering her with this?"What is?" All of this," Kine replied, shaking his head and gesturing all around them. "Your plan, your revenge, our part in it ... it's over."She still didn't understand. 'Over' ... it wasn't, so what the hell was he ... Her eyes widened. No! He couldn't mean!Kine nodded, seeing understanding finally seep into that warped brain. He braced himself for the coming battle."Yes, Lessa. you've had your fun. No more." FUN!?!?" She rose, pregnant body.
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Then, for an instant, the fire and posture returned. “Give me that.” He snapped the parchment with Snape’s seal on it and his figure slumped once more just before the door opened. Professor McGonagall was still in her nightgown; her eyes were tired but the tightness about her lips suggested that she had been in some way interrupted. “What in heaven’s name—” “We need your help P-Professor,” said Ron nervously. “Professor Snape insisted we g-give this to you. Harry’s in trouble.” “Potter?” asked Professor McGonagall, concerned with the uncharacteristic appearance of Ron’s emotions. “What’s he gotten himself into this time?” She stepped backwards into her front office, leaving the door open as on offering for the two students to enter. “Well, it’s not exactly about Harry,” began Hermione. “It’s about Vold—” She felt Ron’s hand dig into her wrist. She yanked her hand away. “It’s unusual that Severus should use his seal,” said McGonagall, holding up her wand. She tapped the green disk and.

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