Harry Potter and the Covenant of the Triangle

1. Chapter 1: The Forest

Harry Potter and the Covenant of the Triangle

Chapter 1:The Forest

The forest was dense with dead trees. The barren, knarled and twisted limbs stretched towards the dark sky as if right before death, they had reached out to the heavens above with one last plea for life, a life that was taken prematurely.

Towards the forest floor, covered with decaying leaves and foliage, there was almost no semblance of life either. Not a sound made its way through the heavy blanket of silence; no chirp of birds, no soft rustling from hooves or paws, not even the less audible movement of insects. As far as the eye could see, everything was dying or dead; a brown wasteland. There was no new growth; there would be none. This forest hadn't died naturally. Its life had been stolen; stolen by an old evil, ancient and sinister, that left no chance for re-awakening.

Did this evil come from its one sole inhabitant? No, although he would like to think so, but even he couldn't be fooled into thinking his power had done this. He may have joined with this evil, to rule and to be ruled, but by no means had he invented it. It had existed far longer than he had, longer than his old mentor Grindelwald, longer than the thousand year old school of witchcraft and wizardry Hogwarts, even longer than the still living Forbidden Forest.

If one thought about it, hadn't the desire for possessing all encompassing power been present since the very beginning? Ever since the time of Adam and Eve, when both had been tempted, and given in to eating a forbidden fruit, a fruit whose properties included all knowledge and the supposed power to exist and rule apart from God; hadn't that been the start?

The human race, Muggles and Magicals alike had gone downhill ever since, thought the dead forest's one inhabitant with an ironic chuckle, but then he digressed. If Adam and Eve hadn't begun the job long ago though, where would he be now? Then he chuckled again, but less with amusement than with an over-inflated sense of his own destiny. He would've started it; started the rebellion against something that kept him from being in complete control; not just over himself, but over everyone else. After all, what did the rest of the world understand about true power? About controlling and being controlled? Nothing…absolutely nothing, but he would teach them soon enough. They were all pawns and he would be their king; as soon as he got his body back, as soon as his faithful returned to him, as soon as Potter was finally eliminated…soon…very soon…

The lone figure started from his reverie and with red-slitted eyes, blinked angrily against the dawning of a new day. The sky was dusky gray and purple, locked in the period between night and morning, where the sun and moon were both still vying for ownership of the horizon.

With a hideous scowl, he turned his gaze back down to the ground, almost cursing the fates for daring to bring about a new day while he was still so far from his goal.

He needed his body back.

Voldemort gritted his teeth and flared his slitted nostrils in fury at the thought of the boy who had stolen it from him yet again the previous year. He hated Harry Potter with every fiber of the half-life he still possessed.

The first time his body had been stolen, he had bidden his time until his servant, Peter Pettigrew, more aptly named Wormtail, had finally returned to him. Now he, and even his first servant, Stuart Kavan, who had re-joined him later, was dead. Kavan he had killed for his thoughts of betrayal, and Pettigrew, even before Kavan had returned to him, had been disposed of as well; too weak. Was there no one worthy enough to be his right hand?

There was no time to dwell on that now. He felt himself weakening; he needed sustenance. As much as he hated the Forbidden Forest for the life and the semblance of good that still remained there, he knew that the one thing he needed wouldn't be found in Kavan.

Kavan, he snorted derisively to himself. The forest was not so aptly named. He wondered when Dumbledore would figure out that Stuart Kavan hadn't been killed by the dark lord all those years ago, but had actually joined him. Perhaps after what Voldemort had planned for the place it would be re-named, in honor, or fear as the case would be, of him…perhaps…

Voldemort ground his teeth as he glided off in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. His mind bent with anger, his soul burning for revenge, but most of all at that moment, his transparent body yearning for the only thing that was keeping him alive…

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2. Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys

Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys

Harry Potter lay in his uncomfortably small bed at number 4 Privet Drive, hopelessly twisted in his bed sheets. In sleep, unbeknownst to him, he clenched the sides of his bed in a death like grip. His unruly dark hair, normally in a state of disarray, was flattened with sweat against his head and forehead, and he tossed back and forth, trying even in slumber to rid himself of the scene that was literally playing out before him.

(The dream)

"Welcome my faithful servants," Voldemort hissed, grinning skeletal-like and gesturing with a sweep of his arm to the group of around twenty death eaters.

They stood deep in the heart of the dead forest of Kavan, in a circle near the ruins of what had been Voldemort's cabin, torn down at the end of the previous school year. The dead trees seemed to have twisted their knarled limbs together in a circular clearing around the group, some of the limbs reaching to the dark starry sky, and some reaching out and down, as if partaking in the meeting.

Harry saw himself, Hermione and Ron, bound by the Immobulus curse, lying on the ground. Harry and Ron were laid perpendicular to each other, their heads touching, and Hermione was laid out at their feet. Her head towards Ron's feet, she could move only it, and she turned her frightened eyes in Harry's direction, her watery gaze making contact with his own. All three were breathing hard, chests heaving with fear, but also with another emotion, a deep glaring regret.

"We failed," Hermione croaked out to the prone forms of Harry and Ron.

The Harry on the ground worked his jaw with a face full of emotion and locked his gaze with Hermione's once more. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…this is my fault…"

"Shut up Harry," said Ron huskily, turning his head and cutting his wet eyes to the side to glimpse Harry's face, "You can't take all the blame you selfish git…We all failed…all of us."

Harry closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anguish. "But I…"

"Ron's right," said Hermione, her voice shaking with barely controlled fear, "We're all to blame…we all made the pact, remember? We're all in this together, we…"

"Never mind," said Harry huskily, squinting his eyes shut and swallowing the thick lump in his throat, "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, I…but I won't die without telling you both how much you mean to me."

As Harry observed himself, Hermione and Ron lying on the ground, he fell back a step in fear and confusion. He tried to yell out to the three prisoners but no sound escaped his lips. He grabbed at his throat frantically, his eyes desperately searching his surroundings for an answer, but the forest had none to give. No one could hear him. Even Voldemort didn't seem to sense the presence of the second Harry, and continued to address his followers in his trademark high-pitched unearthly voice.

"You few have been faithful to me. Because of your unwavering service, you will be duly rewarded, as I promised."

The death eaters, all clad in dark hooded robes that hid their identities, nodded agreeably, shifting intermittently from one foot to the other and glancing towards their captives as if anxious for something to happen.

"With the death of these," Voldemort gestured grandly down towards the three teens, "comes the dawning of a new era…A time in which darkness will rule once again. But not darkness simply for darkness sake, but because darkness is the strongest, the most powerful, and light has been overcome, as it was always destined to be."

The Harry on the ground tilted his head again towards Ron. "Ron, mate, you’re my best friend, ever since the first day on the train. You've stuck by me through everything. You…you're like my brother. Y…you don't know how much you mean to me…"

"I know Harry…I know," said Ron thickly, "Same to you…the very same…and you 'Mione."

"Ron…" sobbed Hermione quietly.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and then turned his burning gaze to Hermione, who was stifling a sob and gazing at him helplessly. "'Mione," he whispered gently, "I love you so much…You'll never know…how much…"

"Don't Harry!" she sobbed out, but then squeezed her eyes shut and controlled herself once again, "Please don't…"

"I wish I could've had more time with you," continued Harry in a low voice, "I…I don't know why we can't…but I want you to know. You mean everything to me."

Hermione's face twisted in anguish as she turned her gaze away from him and sobbed in the back of her throat. "O god Harry, I love you too…"

Voldemort turned toward his minions and drew his wand. "You all know what you're supposed to do."

The second Harry looked wide-eyed from himself and his two friends to Voldemort and found that his body wouldn't obey his mind to move forward, to intercept…

"It is time," said Voldemort simply, but with a hint of the underlying excitement. He gestured two death eaters forward, and they, along with Voldemort approached the three captives. "You two take whichever you want," his red eyes glittered with long-awaited glee, "But Potter's mine."

The two death eaters quickly headed towards their prey, and Voldemort stood over Potter, his arm outstretched, wand inches from Harry's face. He whispered so quietly that only Harry and his mute counterpart near them could hear.

"The end, Potter…I've waited a long time for this."

Harry simply glared up at Voldemort with a set jaw, his eyes glittering with disrespect and an unbendable hatred. "Go to hell."

Voldemort shrugged and smirked. "All in due time…There's so much to accomplish first."

He nodded to the death eater near Ron and the man lowered his hood. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy who, without a pause, pointed his wand to a shaking, wide-eyed Ron and muttered the death curse.

Hermione screamed in anguish as Ron's body immediately relaxed, dead before he could mutter a word.

"RON!" Harry screamed and sobbed out a strangled curse despite himself. "Dammit! Damn you, you son of a…" If he could have moved, he would have torn Voldemort limb from limb.

Voldemort simply smiled; a cold ruthless gesture. He felt no joy at this, no regret. It was simply a necessity. Just as necessary as swatting a mosquito bent on drawing blood.

This fact alone made him a monster. Even the vilest murderer felt some emotion when he killed…hatred, pain, even joy; but Voldemort felt nothing. All that was done was done simply for the gaining of power. There was nothing more and nothing less; the murders were simply a means to an end.

As a trembling Harry turned his furious, anguished gaze back to Voldemort he saw above him, to the sky, a haze of dark gray-black clouds that hadn't been there before. The ominous mist slowly seeped down between the thick limbed trees to hover and swirl almost evilly above the crowd below.

The Harry observing all of this turned his haunted gaze towards Voldemort's minions. Even the Death Eaters seemed frightened, but Voldemort's face registered delight.

"Do you see, Harry?" He looked back down at Potter on the ground before him, "My powers are returning to me…and upon your death, I'll have them back. All of them."

The prone Harry turned his horror filled face down to look at Hermione, who, upon catching his eyes, seemed to draw strength from them, even though her gaze held horror as well.

"Don't give up hope Harry. Even though we're gone, someone else will take our places…He won't win."

Voldemort snorted derisively and looked back down at Harry. "Brave girlfriend you have there Potter…deluded, but brave. How unfortunate I have no use for her, or for you."

He nodded toward the Death Eater that stood over her and he lowered his hood, extending his wand. Neither of the Harry's recognized him.

"Do you remember when we fought here Harry?" said Voldemort quietly, gesturing toward the remains of his ruined cabin, "Do you remember when I told you that I'd get her, one way or the other?" He smiled and nodded again towards the Death Eater near Hermione.

She looked at Harry and whispered his name one more time before she died.

Harry screamed again, an earth-shattering, world-ending, wrenching sound that emanated from his very soul; one that left him pale and weak. His thoughts were completely muddled with despair, so much so that he could barely remind himself to breathe…but what did it matter anymore? They were dead…they were both dead…

"Never let it be said that a dark wizard fails to keep his promises," said Voldemort simply.

The Harry observing all of this fell to his knees in horror, his fingernails scraping at his face in total agony. Ron…O god, Hermione…my 'Mione…

Harry tasted bile and promptly vomited.

The dark clouds began to form together, swirling and whirling in a tornado-like vortex. The wind whipped violently, and the Death Eaters looked up to the sky, nervously moving closer together without even realizing they were doing so.

The dark vortex, now punctured here and there with an eerie flash of red lightening, moved over to swirl and hover directly above Voldemort, and he looked up to it smiling greedily, a look of mad victory playing on his features.

With no long farewell speech, no gloating, he simply turned back towards Harry and lowered his hood, his sickeningly ghostly pale face alive with excitement, his red eyes glowing with madness. He grasped his wand tighter, thrusting it between Harry's eyes.

"Goodbye, Potter…PESTIS CONLABOR!"

After a few moments of agonized twitching, Harry's head dropped to one side.

The Harry watching all of this felt all of his breath leave his body in a powerful whoosh as if he'd been punched. He fell forward on his hands in shock, breathing raggedly but looking up in time to see the vortex begin to descend towards Voldemort.

The dark lord threw up his arms, his long-fingered hands claw-like, and opened his mouth unnaturally wide, actually beginning to swallow the tornado, lightening and all.

"NO!" Harry finally was able to scream wildly. His scar began to throb with an indescribable pain, unlike any he'd experienced yet. "Please NO! NO…NO…NO…"

(End dream)

"NO MORE LAZING ABOUT, I SAID!" bellowed Harry's Uncle Vernon angrily as he finally succeeded in yanking Harry out of his bed and onto the floor.

Harry, who was now big enough to defend himself, and normally would have yanked Vernon Dursley's sausage-like fingers away from his shirt, could only fall to the floor and clutch at his forehead, gritting his teeth against the burning, searing pain that stabbed through his head like a knife.

"Get UP boy!" yelled Dursley, grabbing onto the back of Harry's flannel shirt and attempting to yank him up from the floor, "You think you're gonna sleep down there as well!? UP!"

Harry brought himself to his knees and hissed through his teeth, as much from the pain in his scar as the anger he felt towards his uncle.

He pushed Vernon's beefy hand from his shirt weakly, swallowing down the nausea that always accompanied the pain when his scar burned.

Vernon took a step backward and sneered down at his nephew as if he were a piece of rotting garbage that had missed the bin. "What's wrong with you then? You oversleep, breakfast is no where near

on the table and you're lying there on the floor like you're ill…"

"Like you really care?" Harry replied weakly pulling himself up to sit on his bed and resting his head in his hands. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"You'll be down NOW!" said Vernon reaching a hand out to grasp Harry by the arm. But Harry grabbed the man's wrist in his own powerful grip and looked up at his uncle with a warning glance that stopped him in his tracks. He answered his uncle calmly.

"I need to wake up, and shower…then I'll be down to get your breakfast."

Vernon shot a look of glazed fury Harry's way and yanked his wrist back, pointing a shaking finger in his nephew's face. "You dare to speak to me in that insolent tone, boy!? I'll have you scrubbing this house spotless every Saturday from now until next month when you finally go back to that ruddy unnatural school of yours, do you hear me!?"

"All of Wales can hear you!" Harry shot back angrily, standing up and towering over his uncle, "I'll be down in a few minutes! Now either you can go down and wait for me, or you can stay up here and yell while I take a shower. It's your choice!"

Vernon scowled and narrowed his small eyes, his beefy, red face puffed up with anger. His nephew might be too big to bully anymore, but he certainly wasn't immune to threats; and his real power, magic, (Vernon loathed the "m" word), was not allowed outside of Hog…his school. Dursley smiled humorlessly. He always had his trump card.

"Careful Harry. You've still got a year left in this house until you're eighteen. Until then, you do as I say and obey my rules or you're OUT! Then where would you go?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Vernon that A) he could always live at the Burrow with the Weasleys or with the Grangers, and B) that his uncle could go to hell, in that order, but stopped himself.

He wasn't stupid. Dumbledore had him here for a reason. There were so many spells and safeguards on this house to keep him from harm that if the Dursleys ever found out, they would probably all suffer from simultaneous strokes. He had to stay there at least until he turned eighteen and could finally inherit all the money his parents had left him, and blessedly strike out on his own; safeguards be damned.

Harry gritted his teeth in minor defeat and nodded in deference to his uncle. "I'll be down in a few minutes…I promise."

Vernon's jaw worked as he nastily stared Harry up and down and finally turned to leave. "See that you are!" His large form seemed to shake the frame of the house as he stomped down the hall and down the stairs.

Harry turned with a sigh to rummage through his bureau for clean clothes and heard his Aunt Petunia across the hall, gently shaking his whale-sized cousin Dudley awake.

"Dudders…sweet pea…it's almost time for brekkie…Won't you come down now?"

Dudley rolled his massive body onto his back and pulled his pillow over his head, grumbling angrily. "Wh…what time is it…"

"It's seven o'clock pumpkin…time for brekkie so you can get to school."

"Wh…why do I hafta go to school today!?" whined a muffled Dudley angrily from beneath his pillow, "Why can't I have the day off!?"

Petunia bit her bottom lip with her large front teeth and gently shook her son again. "B…because Diddy dear…Smart, talented boys like yourself need to finish their education…"

"Because you flunked senior year and you're in summer school," called out Harry as he padded past Dudley's room towards the bathroom.

At this, Dudley growled and sprang up from his bed as quickly as his fat form would allow, nearly knocking his mother down in an attempt to fly at his cousin. But Harry, being quicker by far, merely shut the bathroom door and locked it behind him.

"Harry!" screamed Dudley furiously, banging on the door, "You great hideous PRICK! I'll get you for that one! Come out, YOU!"

"What was that?" yelled Harry turning on the shower full force.

"Turn off the water!" screamed Dudley, "Come out here and FACE ME!"

"Sorry, DUD…can't hear you! I've got the water running!"

Harry grinned easily and undressed, stepping into the shower and letting the water drown out his irate cousin's reply. Dudley hated it when Harry called him Dud… the meaning was so obviously implied…even to him. The banging on the door finally stopped, probably due to Petunia's soothing, and Harry was left to enjoy his very short shower in peace.

As he let the water cascade down his tense body, Harry thought about his situation for not the first time.

Not much had changed at number four, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon was still a bully, though not as much as he used to be since Harry was now much taller and stronger and could fend for himself. The one thing he still had over Harry was the fact that Harry was still his charge and personal slave until his eighteenth birthday. By Muggle law, and secretly, by Dumbledore's own law, Harry had to stay with the Dursley's until then, though he was sure as soon as the day of his eighteenth birthday arrived, Vernon would have him tossed out on his ear by the time the clock struck twelve a.m.

Little did his uncle know though that Harry would be well taken care of. His parents had seen to that.

Petunia was still a simpering, gossipy nag who twittered around and doted on her enormous son and with equal measures, hated Harry because of he and his late parent's "oddities".

And Dudley…Dudley was still an enormous, bratty, selfish prick of a lad who adored only two things in life; food and torturing Harry…in that order. Though the latter was proving rather difficult in recent years. Harry was simply too big to be pushed around anymore, by anyone. But the Dursley's control had always been more emotional than physical.

Harry closed his eyes and hung his head under the hot water, letting it loosen his knotted muscles and thought briefly back to his dream. If it had just been Hermione and Ron going through that horror, he would have owled them immediately to make sure they were all right but since Harry had been there too, he knew that it hadn't been real.

Still, the burning in his scar made it much more than just a run-of-the-mill nightmare. It wouldn't do to ignore it…he'd certainly learned his lesson about that. After breakfast he would owl them. Besides, he needed to thank them both for the presents they had sent him for his birthday last week, as well as Hagrid and Sirius. He had let Hedwig out to stretch her wings and hunt a bit a couple of days ago and she hadn't yet returned; though Harry knew it would be any day now. She never stayed gone for more than a few days at a time.

Reluctantly, Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to dry himself, dress and start the morning. Another delightful day with the Dursleys, he thought out loud to himself as he scanned his form in the mirror. He was now a good six feet tall though still a few inches shorter than Ron. He had inherited his father's olive-skinned complexion and was bronzed from working out in the yard every day. His hair was still a shock of dark, thick untamable tresses that fell wherever they would, and his eyes, staring back at him through the round glasses were still a bright green.

But no longer did a skinny boy's reflection stare back at him. He had broadened in all the right places; shoulders, chest, arms and legs and had become considerably more muscular within the last two years. He smiled to himself. Not that it mattered a whole lot to him how he'd changed, but Hermione seemed to have appreciated it. She had told him that she loved him for who he was on the inside, but had naughtily added that the outside didn't hurt matters much either. (*wink* from the author ;0)

Hermione…he couldn't wait to see her again. To think it'd been almost two months…

Uncle Vernon's angry voice roared up the stairs, sharply bringing Harry's thoughts back to the present. "Boy, if I have to yell for you again there WILL be consequences!"

Try them, thought Harry dangerously, but thought better than to reply in kind. "Be right there…"

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3. Chapter 3: Breakfast at the Burrow

Chapter 3: Breakfast at the Burrow

Things at the Burrow weren't much less harried than those at the Dursley's that particular morning, though with seven people in one house things never were.

Molly Weasley rushed about her kitchen as usual, frantically trying to 'conjure' up breakfast for her family who were notoriously late for anything important.

"Arthur dear, are you getting up or must I bash you over the head with a frying pan!?" yelled Molly loud enough for the whole upstairs to hear.

"I'm up Molly," said Mr. Weasley as he stumbled down the stairs sleepily, though already dressed, "I've an hour until work yet…"

But Molly seemed not to hear him as she yelled up the stairs yet again for her twin nineteen-year-old sons. "Fred! George! If you plan on actually ever having your joke shop you'll be down here in two minutes! Your meeting starts in half an hour and you still haven't eaten!"

"Have off mum, we're apparating!" yelled Fred down the stairs.

"Molly…" began Arthur again.

"Well breakfast won't eat itself!"

BANG! Smoke began to pour down the stairs as a few loud guffaws and the voice of one very irate Ron Weasley mingled together in a loud argument.

Startled, Molly dropped her wand with a yell and rushed towards the bottom of the stairs. "Great Merlin's ghost WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE NOW!?"

"Why does it have to be us?" said George through stifled laughter as he peeked his head around the corner at the top of the stairs.

"Who ELSE would it be!?" yelled Molly, "What HAVE you done!? Get down here now!"

George laughed heartily as Ron shoved roughly past him and began angrily stomping down the stairs. His red hair was blown back from his forehead as if he'd been caught in a wild wind and ash covered his face and hands as if a small blast had gone off near him.

"Ronald! What in Merlin's name…"

"Exploding Elves Mum," Ron growled as he walked past her, averting his eyes in barely controlled fury, "Exploding Elves. The newest, latest, and greatest…stupid ugly prats…"

Fred joined George at the top of the stairs and both fell on each other bellowing with laughter as Ron stalked huffily away.

Molly scowled fiercely at them. "Was that necessary!?"

"We had to try 'em out on someone Mum!" said Fred grinning and wheezing for breath," We can't very well show them to Japes and Gambol without testing 'em first!"

Japes and Gambol Joke Shop in Diagon Alley was closing its doors, and Fred and George were eager to snap up the business, should the owners deem them worthy to sell to. The money they would make would finally allow them to move out on their own, and it was a move that was desperately needed.

Molly closed her eyes, attempting to control her madness, though it felt like a losing battle. Insanity was not far behind… "Just GET down here and eat! Breakfast is ready…and pinch up Ginny for me; I don't know what the girl's up to."

"Aye aye, Mum!" said George winking and giving his mother a stiff salute.

Molly pinched the bridge of her nose and turned slowly, walking back towards the kitchen table and dropping heavily in her chair.

"Oy, Ginny!" said Fred pounding on her door, "Stop primping, you! Breakfast is waiting!"

"Who exactly do I have to primp for!?" shot back Ginny's muffled voice, "Tell Mum I'll be down in a minute…"

Fred shrugged and made his way down the stairs.

Once again, Ginny made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and balled up her note, sending it to the already large pile of wadded paper in the corner.

"Try to sound excited, but not overly eager; open, yet enticingly aloof; charming, but not smarmy…"

Ginny sighed and slapped down her copy of Witch Weekly. This weeks "Charms for the Charmed" section was aptly named "A Witches Guide to Winning her Wizard: Love Letters." Brilliant for her since she was trying to answer her second note from the boy she desperately had a crush on, and whom she felt must feel the same, no matter how detached he seemed. She smiled almost deviously. She was a determined witch…you had to be to live in a house with all male siblings.

She poised her quill to write again and smiled.

"Dear Draco,

I was so pleased to get your last letter…"

Fred and George finally made it to the breakfast table, trailed shortly by Ginny, and the seven Weasleys tucked in for a quick bite before each were off, save Ron and Ginny, who had no particular place to be.

"Finally, you!" said Molly to her daughter as she passed around the biscuits, "What've you been up to this morning then?"

"Nothing mum, just a bit of a late start," lied Ginny, purposefully avoiding her mother's gaze. She had swiped Pig, Ron's owl, after he had come down stairs for breakfast, tied her letter to Draco securely on the owl's tiny leg, and let him out to deliver his post.

She sighed as she took a rather small bite of sausage and moved the rest of her food around on her plate. She hoped the letter didn't seem too eager…

"Excited about your meeting boys?" asked Arthur Weasley around a mouthful of eggs.

"We're corkers!" said George excitedly, "This's the opportunity we've been looking for, aye Fred?"

Fred nodded enthusiastically. "Just have to prove to 'em we've got the stuff to run the business. We've a whole load of jokes and pranks loaded up to take with us. That oughtta show 'em…"

"Yeah it'll show 'em," muttered Ron into his glass of pumpkin juice, "Slimy gits…"

"Aw, don't be mad Ronniekins," said George grinning and pinching his younger brother's cheek. Ron slapped his hand away with a *pop* and a large scowl. "We hadn't tested the elves yet. We needed a willing subject…"

"I WASN'T WILLING!" yelled Ron, slamming his glass back down hard enough to splatter pumpkin juice all over Ginny.

"Oy Ron!" yelled Ginny huffily, swiping her face and slapping Ron on the arm.

"Blame them!" said Ron irritably, "My aims a little off today…Can't imagine why!"

"That's enough!" said Molly slapping her fork down with a loud clang, "You three are WAY too old for this! Especially you two…" she waggled her finger in the twin's direction.

Arthur cleared his throat; time to intervene… "It'll be a tough day at the Ministry today I reckon…" he said eager to change the subject to a less sensitive one.

"What was that dear?"

"A tough day…at the Ministry…" repeated Arthur into his teacup, eyeing her from above the rim.

Molly relaxed a little, relieved to be talking to an adult. Sometimes she thought she might soon need one very white jacket with particularly long wrap-around sleeves. "Oh…why is that?"

Fred, George, Ron and Ginny relaxed back into their meals. Their dad always knew how to calm their mother, or at least shift her attention…

"Elvidell Pritchman's house's been raided…seems he was caught trying to bewitch some of his appliances again; of course that falls under Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. More paperwork for me…"

"That wizard is a menace!" exclaimed Molly as she summoned more tea from the kitchen. The pot floated over and hovered over her cup pouring another for her. "Wasn't it he a few months back that tried to charm that old Muggle stove of his into working again? Nearly burned his whole house down…Hmph! Electrical short indeed!"

"Well Molly, technically we've a few charmed appliances around here as well…"

"But he SELLS them!" She spat out in frustrated amazement, "I know you remember the article in the Daily Prophet last year about the Muggle who found himself with one of those, Arthur…Honestly! Who has a refrigerator that reminds you you're on a diet!? It took a whole slew of memory charms to erase that one, it did!"

"Yes well," began Arthur, smiling at his wife's exuberance, "Like I said, it won't be an easy day, but I'd rather shuffle paperwork than have to deal with what Magical Wildlife Services does."

George swallowed a large mouthful of food and shoveled another in before speaking. "Wha's tha' then?"

Arthur took another swallow of his tea. "Well, it seems there's been quite a few animal disappearances in the Forbidden Forest lately…Population's getting a bit thin; could start a problem with the eco-balance if the problems not found out soon."

"What sort of animals?" piped up Ginny.

Arthur set his teacup down absently. "Unicorns."

Suddenly there was a clatter of forks and a few dropped cups around the table as the Weasley children sat up straight in shock. The silence that ensued was enough to make both Molly and Arthur extremely suspicious, and they glanced around the table at their children, frowns prominently displayed.

Ron looked positively ashen. "D…did you say unicorns, dad?"

Arthur answered slowly, a look of confusion playing on his ruddy features. "Quite a few of them actually. Seem to have been slaughtered…at least the ones they found; drained of blood. Can't seem to figure out what could've done such a thing. Ron, you look pale…"

The Weasley children seemed to have suddenly lost their appetites. Even the twins were unusually silent.

"Uh…may I be excused Mum," said Ron rising quickly, "There's something I need to do…"

Ginny slid her chair out noisily. "Me too…"

"Yes, of course," said Molly slowly, eyeing them. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her youngest children sprang up and bolted for the stairs.

"Ron! Ginny! What's going on!?" yelled Molly after them, but they had both already disappeared up to the second floor.

"What's with those two, then?" Arthur asked the twins as he rose uncertainly to leave, but Fred and George rose as well.

"Uh, dunno…daft I guess," said George quickly taking a last swig of his pumpkin juice, "Well, we best be off too, Mum. Don't want to be late!" Both boys stepped back from the table and grabbed up the trunk filled with their inventions, each holding one side.

"Wait, I'm not through with you!" exclaimed Molly.

"We'll be late Mum, sorry!" With a pop, both boys disapparated, leaving a bewildered Molly and Arthur in their wake.

Molly threw up her hands in exasperation. "What in Merlin's name is going on!?"

*****************************************

Ron, Ginny following, threw open the door to his room and made straight for his owl cage perched atop his school trunk, but found it empty to his dismay.

"What!? Where's Pig!?"

Ginny looked sheepish and stuttered out a reply. "Sorry Ron, I…I borrowed him."

Ron whirled around, fixing his sister with a glare and she took a step back, guilt flooding her freckled face. "Ginny, this's important!" he said in exasperation.

"I KNOW Ron, I'm sorry! We'll have to use Errol…"

Ron sighed angrily. "He's too slow! We don't even know if he'll make it!"

"Well we haven't got a choice, have we!?" Ginny shot back.

Ron shook his head, growling impatiently, but made his way to George's room where Errol was living out the rest of his existence. He had his own perch and no cage. Being actually almost too old anymore to perform his post duties, he simply wiled away his days flying wherever he wanted and returning when he wanted, though to be honest, he rarely flew very far from home nowadays.

Ron plopped down at Fred's messy desk, impatiently shoving aside the makings of what appeared to be another prank and took out a parchment and quill, poised to write. He turned to Errol, gazing at the owl pointedly.

"This's very important Errol…you'll need to fly your very best, ok?

As if the owl could, Ginny could've sworn that Errol gave Ron a look of derision mixed with disbelief, but a soft hoot was his only reply. Ginny continued to stroke him as Ron began composing one of the most important notes he had ever written.

****************************************

4. Chapter 4: Letters

Chapter 4: Letters

While Dudley and Petunia argued about Dudley's third helping of pancakes, Harry finally took the opportunity to sneak away from the kitchen and back upstairs to his room to begin writing his letters to Ron and Hermione.

To his surprise, he found Errol, the Weasley's impossibly old post owl lying exhausted on his bed. When he saw Harry, the owl feebly stuck out his leg for Harry to relieve him of his burden. Harry frowned. Why hadn't Ron used Pig?

Harry untied the letter from his leg and walking over to give Hedwig a gentle pat, he unsnapped her plastic water bowl from her cage and placed it beside a grateful Errol.

He unrolled the letter and took in Ron's untidy scrawl.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope the Muggles aren't getting you down.

Is Dudley still the size of a small freighter? Nevermind…

How did you like the book? More like Hermione to get you

something like that for your birthday although she probably would've

gotten you something more studious than "Candid Conversations With

the Cannons…Chudley's Finest." Check out the chapter on "Flying with

the Firebolt"...lots of new tricks and tips in that one, not that you need them!

But on a more serious note; Dad mentioned something at breakfast today;

I hope you're sitting…The Ministry's looking into unicorn disappearances

in the Forbidden Forest. Seems the populations gone down and the ones that

have been found were drained of all of their blood…not that there were a bloody

lot in the Forest to begin with, but are you catching on, mate? Fred, George,

Ginny and I could've dropped right there, but I don't think Mum and Dad

suspect, otherwise they'd never let us go back to Hogwarts…

Voldemort's still there, mate. Sorry for the bad news, look out for yourself… I'll let you owl Hermione. See you soon.

Ron.

Harry sat down on his bed heavily, shocked and more than a little apprehensive. Ron was right; the unicorn killings could only mean one thing, and now his dream…

Immediately, Harry shot up and strode to his desk, snatching up his quill and parchment to warn Hermione. It was still a month until he would see her and he wanted her prepared in case something happened in the meantime. Voldemort had already tried to take her once, who was to say he wouldn't try again?

He shifted anxiously in his seat, tapping his quill on his chin, trying to think of the best way to tell her without making her overly anxious.

Finally realizing there wasn't an easy way to break that kind of news, he began to write.

Hi Love,

I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you next month. Thanks so

much for the picture album of you, Ron and I…that was the best present

I think I've ever gotten. Who knew Colin had taken so many pictures of us?

And thanks so much for the birthday cake even though it was sugar free!

Unfortunately, I'm not writing to you just to tell you how much I love you,

even though I think you already know (wink to you).

Ron owled me a kind of disturbing letter. He said his Dad mentioned

that the Ministry's looking into quite a few unicorn disappearances. Seems

the ones that have been found were drained of their blood…I know you

know what that means, love.

I also had a pretty bad nightmare. Without going into to much detail,

Voldemort had re-summoned the Death-Eaters and had gotten his powers back.

You, Ron and I were captured; that's the basics of it. I didn't write to scare

you, I just want you to be careful, and aware.

Please take care of yourself. I'll see both you and Ron at the Three

Broomsticks in Diagon Alley the last Friday of August the 28th. Like we

planned, ok?

Until then, I love you all there is.

Harry.

Harry re-read his letter and satisfied, tied it to Hedwig's leg. Then he sat and composed a shorter letter to Ron, explaining his dream and cautioning him as well to stay alert, restating that he would see them at the Three Broomsticks in about a month.

Errol seemed rested enough, so Harry attached the letter to his leg and looked at Hedwig, admonishing her to watch over Errol as long as she could to see that he didn't drop dead. She gave him the usual tolerant nip on the finger.

He watched them with a slightly worried expression until they became small dots on the horizon; the brown dot dipping up and down in an erratic fashion. Harry smiled crookedly. Errol really was getting too old for this.

**********************************************

The next month passed by rather slowly for Harry and strangely enough, he had no more nightmares, though the dreams he did have were erratic and very strange. They mostly consisted of shapes; a triangle, half circles. Surrounding the shapes he always saw an aura of intense power that changed color intermittently. The colors changed from blue to green to purple and sometimes, the colors would converge to create a band of bright translucent gold so pure, that it was almost too bright for the human eye.

He felt his dreams had significance, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what it could be. The shapes looked like something from Advanced Arithmancy, a subject Harry had never taken before and didn't plan on taking. He tried not to dwell too much on the disturbing nighttime visions, after all, he reminded himself, sometimes dreams were just that…dreams. They didn't all have to mean something.

The Dursley's, as usual, were horrible all month long. They always seemed to get worse the closer to Harry's school year it became. It was almost as if they knew his time of reprieve was coming, so they did their best to torture him as thoroughly and often as they could until his summertime prison sentence was over.

By far, the worst torture was having to sit through Dudley's summer school graduation ceremony. He'd finally made it, though by the skin of his very teeth, and the Dursley's, particularly Petunia, seemed to think Dudley had done exceptionally well and took every opportunity that they could to let Harry and the rest of the parents there know how well Harry didn't measure up. Harry, of course, informed them that he had never flunked a class, but was quickly rebutted by a very purple faced Vernon as he venomously whispered to his nephew that "unnatural schools" like Harry's didn't count.

Dudley took it all with smugness, and rubbed it (what "it" was Harry wasn't exactly sure) in Harry's face at every turn.

Dudley's eighteenth birthday was a swell occasion as well. The Dursley's, of course, threw him a swank bash, and invited Smelting's whole senior class to attend.

Harry, of course, was to stay upstairs and pretend once again that he didn't exist, but he had accidentally been seen by one of Dudley's female classmates. He had scurried back into his room quickly, but had obviously made an impression on the girl, because she immediately went to Dudley and asked him who the cute dark-haired boy was hiding up the stairs. Dudley, in his trademark hateful, jealous way, informed her that his cousin was mad, and attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, which sent the whole party into an uproar. The whole night, various classmates tried to sneak upstairs to get a peek at the crazed teenage criminal.

Harry sighed inwardly and closed his eyes. Just a few more days until Diagon Alley, Ron and Hermione…his 'Mione… Just the thought of her was like a gentle breeze, calming and soothing, making him realize that life wasn't so bad after all. Just a few more days and he'd be leaving for Diagon Alley; Hedwig, broom, trunk and all. He just had to make it until then…

************************************

5. Chapter 5: Diagon Alley

Chapter 5: Diagon Alley

Ron and Hermione, having met up at the Leaky Cauldron an hour earlier, had already taken their belongings up to the respective rooms they'd be staying in over the weekend, and giddily made their way through the secret brick wall entrance into Diagon Alley, heading towards the Three Broomsticks.

They found a table and ordered two butterbeers, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of Harry.

"I can't believe we're actually here on our own!" squealed Hermione excitedly as she sipped on her butterbeer. Her eyes stayed glued to the door, and everytime it opened she stiffened reflexively; an aura of pure excitement radiating from her until the moment passed and she relaxed, a little disappointed.

"Yeah well we are seventeen," said Ron, eyeing her in amusement, "It's not like we haven't done this for six years in a row now…"

"I know," said Hermione, her butterbeer almost slipping out of her grasp and clunking on the table rather clumsily. "Oops, uh…All the same it's strange. I'm still surprised Mum and Dad allowed me to come on my own…"

"With Harry and I here to protect you? What objections could they possibly have?" joked Ron as he drained the last of his butterbeer in one loud gulp.

"Right, sure." Hermione answered him absently, keeping her gaze trained at the door. Once again it clanged open, and once again she stiffened with excitement, only to be disappointed again. "So have you picked your subjects yet?"

Ron leaned back in his chair with a smirk. She was obviously trying to make small talk to distract herself, but as he knew, she probably wouldn't really be paying attention to any answers she got in return.

"Yep…taking Divination again. It was between that and Arithmancy… Don't think I could handle that."

"Uh huh…of course."

"Guess I'll be trying out for Quidditch this year; Fred and George gone and all…leaves two spaces you know. You should try out!"

"Mm hmm…uh, what?" Hermione finally caught some of the conversation. "No Ron, of course not! You know I don't like to fly…" she trailed off again and looked longingly at the silent door. "Where can he be?"

Ron smiled to himself. He'd really lost her now, so he decided to have some fun. "Think it'll be fun this year though 'Mione…I think Ginny wants to try out as a bludger…"

"Oh…she'll do well…"

"Yeah, always did want to beat a sibling without getting in trouble for it."

Hermione nodded, chin in hand. "Uh huh, of course…"

Ron rolled his eyes and smirked. She was really gone. "Made a big decision over the summer too…I'm thinking about getting castrated…Harry should too. Just way too much temptation out there, you know?"

"A…Absolutely, I agree…good idea."

Ron, barely controlling the fit of laughter welling up in his throat, sat ram-rod still and stared at Hermione, waiting for the realization of what he had just said to hit her.

Hermione sat still, eyes glued to the door waiting for more conversation to come. When it didn't she frowned and looked up at Ron, whose face was beet red from stifling himself. His laughter, coming out in snorts, made Hermione quickly think back to what he'd just said. Finally a dawning look of disbelief replaced the complacency.

"C…Castrated!? Ronald Weasley, you idiotic little twit!" Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Ron burst out laughing, banging his fist on the table and eliciting stares from other customers. Hermione scowled and pinched him playfully.

"OW, Hermione! Dammit…"

"Oh did that hurt ickle Ronniekins?" Hermione snickered at the little boy look on his face. "Sorry. I know I wasn't paying attention…It's…it's just…"

Ron settled back and smirked once again. "No explanations 'Mione…You're transparent as glass."

Hermione feigned a hurt expression and answered softly. "Am I?"

Ron, while hating when Hermione cried, hated it just as much when she looked hurt. It was the same with Ginny, which was why he was such a complete pushover at times. His smirk softened. "No more than he is."

The door clanged again and both looked up. "Speak of the bloody devil…" grinned Ron.

Harry walked in; his hands shoved deeply into his pockets and began immediately scanning the bar.

"Oy!" Ron yelled, waving to him. "Stupid git! Yeah you, over here!"

Harry's eyes fell on them and he immediately lit up, a brilliant smile spreading across his face as he began to approach. Hermione instantly felt lightheaded. He'd gotten even taller over the summer. His skin was a warm olive, probably from all the work the Dursley's had made him do on the yard. His hair just brushed the neck of his white button-down shirt and fell in an unruly fashion across his forehead, the famous scar just barely hidden beneath. Behind the thin, round glasses, his large eyes, green as a summer meadow, clear as emeralds, held a warm glow in them as soon as he'd spotted them, in particular her, as if he'd just come home after a long journey. His body had filled out even more, even evident in the loose faded jeans he wore, and his easy stride spoke volumes about how much he'd grown up; his manner confident and self-assured. He shot a warm look Hermione's way that made her insides instantly melt to warm pudding.

Harry met Ron first with a boyish hug and laughed. "Filthy prat…good to see you…Grown more then, haven't you?"

"You too," grinned Ron, clapping him on the back, "But you'll never catch up to me…Everything settled at the Cauldron then?"

"All set…" Harry replied, and then sent an intense, almost shy gaze Hermione's way. Somewhere in-between her heart and her stomach Hermione felt a breath-taking rush of giddiness…god, how she'd missed him.

Ron rolled his eyes and smirked. "Go on, get it over with. Snog 'er senseless."

Harry grinned at Ron, and then with two long strides made it to Hermione and swept her up in his arms, grinning and closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on hers.

Hermione laughed out loud and placed her arms around his shoulders closing her eyes as well. She loved the way his long absent arms felt around her. He held her tighter about the waist hugging her to him, and Hermione breathed in his scent. He smelled like summer…uniquely Harry. Warm breezes with the faint scent of honeysuckle, the lingering musk of rain, freshly mown grass…

"I missed you."

That husky baritone voice… Those three words, breathed out almost in reverence were the only ones Harry had given her yet in the form of a greeting, but the passion behind them and the implied other thoughts and words were enough. Hermione felt herself spiraling back down the deep well of longing she always found herself falling into with Harry. It was a voluntary plunge.

His lips found hers, and the instant they touched the spark that ignited fanned into flame. Very soon, both were kissing so passionately that they forgot where they were.

With wide eyes, Ron finally cleared his throat rather loudly. People were starting to stare…

"Oy there mate," he said, tapping Harry lightly on the shoulder, "Save that for later, will you?"

In response, Harry's lips finally left Hermione's and he slid her back down to the floor. As Hermione felt her body sliding down Harry's, the shudder that ensued nearly took both of their breaths away. Harry gave her a wickedly lopsided grin that didn't help matters either. Ron scratched his head in embarrassment and Harry turned towards him with a sheepish look on his face.

"Sorry mate…Needed that you know…"

With a wizened look, Ron cleared his throat again as the three finally sat at their table and ordered more butterbeer. He decided then to take the wide-open opportunity to embarrass Hermione.

"Well 'Mione, maybe that castration might not be such a bad idea after all…"

"RON!" Hermione blushed shades of red not yet known to mankind as Harry turned a confused gaze from she to Ron.

"Castr…What the hell…!?"

Ron snickered at Hermione as she buried her face in her hands letting her hair fall around her like a veil. He slumped back in his seat comfortably and grinned. "Never mind…"

******************************************

The three, with the ever present prodding of Hermione, found their way to Gringotts for Harry, and then to each necessary shop and made a day of shopping for school items, each elaborating on how odd it was that this would be their last year at Hogwarts. Along the way, they discussed the unicorn issue, all three agreeing that Voldemort was the most likely culprit of the killings. But, as Ron pointed out, at least he didn't have his body back, and since Dumbledore and all the teachers now knew that he needed Harry for the potion he had used last time to re-gain it, he would be even more protected than ever. Harry rather thought that he didn't want the extra protection, he had quite enough and certainly didn't want to be fussed over more than he already was, which brought about a round of disapproval from Hermione. At that, they decided to leave the subject alone for the time and focus on just having a great weekend, completely free of responsibility.

Over large bowls of ice cream at Madam Fortescue's, they discussed their futures and what they planned to do after school.

"Dad's got an internship planned for me at the Ministry, though not in 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts' thank Merlin!" exclaimed Ron as he took another large bite of his chocolate chunk sundae, "Too boring for me. I think I'd like to work in Muggle Affairs…you know, concealment spells, memory charms and the like…"

"That'd be interesting. You're certainly sneaky enough to pull it off," began Hermione with a smirk, but then her face fell. "If Mum and Dad have their way I'll be headed to a Muggle college…Not what I want to do though."

"What's that then?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked embarrassed and unsure of herself, something that was unusual for her. "Well I'm…I'm seriously thinking about becoming an Auror, maybe working through the Ministry…who knows?" She looked down and wrung her hands a bit.

Harry smiled a genuine smile and grabbed her hand, running a thumb over her knuckles affectionately. "'Mione, don't be embarrassed…I think you'd make an excellent Auror."

"Really?" Hermione blushed a bit and looked up at him, "I'm…I wasn't sure what you'd think…Ron?"

"Yeah, straight on," replied Ron around a mouthful of ice cream, "You or Harry…both do well. Whaddabout you then?" he turned his gaze on Harry.

Harry looked down, a little nervously and clasped his hands together. What could he tell them? The two things he wanted were hardly compatible, yet he and Dumbledore had discussed at length what his options could be.

Dumbledore was privy to information about several underground organizations whose main focus was fighting the dark forces. Harry had almost laughed at the old wizard but something had told him not to discount it. If he was honest with himself, wasn't that what he'd been doing his whole life? But now he'd gotten decently good at it, and honestly, it was the most appealing. Something that he could do in his parents' memory, in honor of their sacrifice. But the other thing, so close to his heart, was the one thing that over-shadowed all else.

"Harry?" Hermione grabbed his hand and gazed at him quizzically, mirroring Ron's look.

He started slowly. "Well I…I'm…Dumbledore's convinced I'd do well joining some organization against the Dark Arts," at this, Hermione immediately blanched, "but I'm not sure h…well, how my second, I guess, 'desire' would work with that."

Hermione noticed that he ended rather quietly and though shaken by the thought that he may choose to fight evil day in and day out as a profession, wanted to know more. "Harry? What about the second thing?"

Harry looked down again, not quite knowing how to form it well into words. It might sound silly to someone who had grown up differently that he, who had the perks of a loving mother and father relationship, who felt secure in themselves and in the love of others, but for him it had been different…he'd always been alone…

"Harry?"

Hermione's soft, encouraging voice prodded him on. "I…I want a family."

When Harry finally looked up, he saw neither the ridicule nor the confusion he might've expected. Both Hermione and Ron looked at him as if he'd just told them he loved Quidditch. To them, the most natural thing in the world had just escaped his lips…because they knew him.

"Harry…" Once again Hermione breathed his name. He loved it when she said his name…so warmly, like the heat from a fireplace after coming in from the bitter cold, like a long embrace at the end of the day, like a shelter from the storm… "Wanting a family is nothing to be ashamed of." She held his hand and gazed at him with more love than he thought possible. "I want the same thing. Eventually, doesn't everyone?"

"She's right mate," said Ron, clapping Harry on the arm, "Though truth be told, you already have a family; a huge red-headed one at that. An eccentric father, a rather frightening mother," Harry smiled at this, "five brothers, two of whom are absolute gits, and one who's devastatingly handsome," Hermione grinned, "and one adoring little sister…What more could you ask for?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks for that, Ron."

Hermione grinned wickedly. "You know Ron, now that you mention it, George has become quite handsome over the past two years. No wonder Angelina's still dating him!"

Ron scowled at her. "Sod off, you."

******************************

After spending the rest of the day generally gadding about and making a planned trip to Japes and Gambol to check on the twins prospects, ("We've got it for sure!" an excited Fred had told them, bumping into them just after his and George's meeting) the three friends made their way slowly back towards the Leaky Cauldron, stopping to talk to fellow seventh years they met along the way.

Quite a few had actually been allowed to come to Diagon Alley by themselves, though not all were staying through the weekend. Most were to meet back up at King's Cross Station that Monday.

The trio met up with a particularly downtrodden Neville Longbottom, who was being led around by the proverbial nose by his overbearing Grandmother. She was an old woman by now, but still a very formidable one at that.

"Neville!" cried Hermione jovially, waving to the short reddish-brown haired boy as he and his grandmother were stopped, chatting with one of her illustrious 'social circle' friends.

Longbottom's face lit up when he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione, and seeing an opportunity for a bit of escape, told, rather than asked his grandmother that he would be over talking to some friends and to nip him up when she was through. The grandmother gave the three an appraising once-over, and finally consented, although Neville was already on his way over.

"Thank Merlin for you three," he breathed out and then smiled easily, a lot easier than he used to.

Ron looked him over with amusement. "All right then? You're Gran being harsh again?"

"Not harsh," said Neville with a wry look, "just overbearing, as usual. She's been afraid to let me much out of her sight after what happened to you last year." Neville looked pointedly to Hermione who sighed and dropped her gaze. She preferred not to think about the horror she had endured so recently, with Voldemort and his lackey, Starven, or rather Kavan, as his true identity was now known.

Harry caught this and took her hand reassuringly. "We sort of prefer not to think about it Nev…if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course! Sorry…" Neville gave Hermione an apologetic gaze and she instantly shot him a look of friendly forgiveness.

"No worries," she said kindly, "So! Are you all prepared for classes? Quite a load…"

"It is," said Ron rather heavily and then added, "Though I'm sure 'Mione here'll have us studying for the N.E.W.T.s as soon as we step through the doors…" He pinched her cheek playfully, with a toothy grin and she swatted at him with a scowl, eliciting laughter from Harry and Neville.

"Yeah well, it's not the N.E.W.T.s that scare me as much as the new Advanced DADA class! I sure hope McGonnagol doesn't see fit to send me to that! Although I rather doubt it," Neville mused thoughtfully.

"The new WHAT!?"

"How's that!?"

"The WHO!?" Harry, Ron and Hermione were instantly beset by anxious confusion.

"Oh right…" said Neville rather unaffectedly, "Guess you three don't know 'bout that."

Ron immediately looked like he was ready to spontaneously combust, such was the look of complete shock on his face.

"Neville…kindly explain yourself, you git," said a slack-jawed Harry.

Neville chuckled uneasily. "Sorry mates…Gran has the inside word on almost everything. She's been so worried about something else happening because of last year (sorry Hermione), she owled Dumbledore and demanded that he send her a list of all classes and activities on the roster. Since this class is for a select few, it wasn't in our letters. Oh!…Got the inside info on the school dances this year too…prefects…head girl and boy…" At this, Neville grinned cheshire-like.

Hermione looked positively sick. "Wh…why couldn't we know about this?! I'm not in the least prepared!? What about our books for the class!? I could've had them read by now!"

"No need for books apparently…" began Neville.

"There's ALWAYS a need for books!" replied Hermione hotly. Harry sighed loudly and took her hand in mock reassurance. She scowled at him.

Ron shook his head quickly. "Nevermind the rest of that, mate…What'd you mean 'select few'?"

"Well the heads of the houses will choose who takes it…"

"Neville!" Longbottom's grandmother had dismissed her friend with a cordial air-kiss and was now ready to leave. "Let's go pumpkin! Still have to make it to Flourish and Blotts…They'll be closing in ten minutes!"

Neville sighed like a deflating balloon. "Damn! Have to see if for yourselves, I guess…Coming Gran!"

Instantly Ron quirked an eyebrow, a wicked grin smothering his face, and spoke up in a silly old high-pitched voice. "Oh yes my little summer squash…don't let's forget your school thingies…" He threw an arm around Neville's shoulders and pinched his cheek.

Neville shrugged him off huffily. "Sod off, carrots…I've seen you and your mum…" Neville affected an obnoxiously loud feminine voice. "Now Ronnie, did you pack fresh undies? You know how forgetful you are! And mind you eat your veggies! No pigging on desserts!"

Ron's eyes widened big as serving platters and he punched Neville roughly in the shoulder. Harry and Hermione clung to each other, guffawing helplessly.

"YES! That was bang on Neville!" snorted Harry as he grabbed his stomach and threw up his head, giving a sharp loud howl of laughter. "HA! Oh Merlin…"

Ron mustered up the harshest scowl he could and swung at Harry, but he dodged easily. "Shut up, Harry!"

"Neville! Let's go sweetums!" his grandmother gestured in annoyance.

"Sweetums?" snorted Hermione.

"Not you too!" grinned Neville as he backed towards his grandmother, "They've had a bad influence on you!"

"Too right Nev," called Harry after him, "We'll see you on the train!"

Neville nodded and dutifully followed his grandmother at a fast pace down the street.

"He's changed a lot hasn't he?" said Hermione as she, with Harry and Ron on either side, walked arm in arm with them back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"He has…" mused Harry, "Guess we all have."

"Right grown up, we are…" said Ron, raising an eyebrow and grinning sarcastically.

"Uh…some of us more than others," said Harry with a blank expression. He reached an arm around Hermione and slapped Ron across the back of his head.

Instantly, Ron sent a punch Harry's way but missed again and scowled accordingly.

"Don't sweat it Harry…you'll catch up some day," grinned Ron as he reached across Hermione and gave the back of Harry's head a hard return smack.

"Is that right?" grinned Harry swatting Ron's cheek and connecting with a loud pop.

"Well, maybe not…" Ron grinned back as he stepped back from Hermione and grabbed Harry in a headlock, grinding his knuckles into his head.

Harry laughed and elbowed him and both began taunting and punching each other, laughing out loud and drawing a few amused glances from passers by.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and smiled affectionately. Harry had thrown Ron in the dirt and both were now completely covered with grime, still grappling and neither caring a bit.

"You two sound like hyenas," she grinned and then added airily, "You look like 'em too…down there rolling around like a couple of manky twits."

Instantly, both Harry and Ron stopped and looked at her, chests heaving, grins gone. Both stood and began to approach her. Harry had his hands out, fingers claw-like, a blank expression on his face. Ron smiled evilly.

"Oh n…DON'T!" Hermione screamed and began running, Harry and Ron close behind, all three laughing like young children.

When they finally caught her, Ron held her arms while Harry tickled her until she begged and cried for mercy.

It had been a good day.

***********************************

6. Rooming At The Cauldron

Chapter 6: Rooming at the Cauldron

Back at the Cauldron, all three gathered in Harry and Ron's room to talk more and ended up playing exploding snap and at least three games of wizard chess (Ron won against both) before they were ready for bed.

It was getting late in the evening, and Hermione retreated to her room, leaving Harry and Ron to shower before bed. Ron grabbed his pajamas and headed toward the bathroom, but stopped at a word from Harry.

"Uh mate, mind if I have a go first?"

Ron quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Sure, why?… Oh… nevermind. Go ahead." He ended with a smirk.

Harry stood hesitantly and shot Ron a guarded look. "What…"

"Still haven't had a proper snog session, aye?" replied Ron with a sarcastic grin.

Harry instantly reddened despite himself. "It's not…Well I just…"

"Right mate. Stop trying to explain…Go ahead."

Harry set his jaw and grabbed up some clean clothes, passing Ron without a glance. Ron laughed out loud.

Harry went to shut the bathroom door rather loudly but then thought better of it and poked his face out a crack. "Don't know what you're going on about mate…Heard things from Hermione over the summer about you and Lavender…"

Ron shot up from his seat on the bed. "WHAT? I told her to keep that secret! It's not like anything's official yet!"

Harry smirked and slammed the door shut. "What…secrets from me!?"

Ron walked over to the door and spoke through it. "Hermione wasn't even supposed to know! She happened on Lav and I in the common room one night…Wasn't anything serious, we were just talking. That's why I didn't want to mention it yet."

"Just talking huh?" said Harry lightly, "That's not what I heard." He then quickly turned on the water to drown out Ron's reply, muffling the irritated response. He laughed lightly to himself and stepped into the shower.

After a few minutes he was out, and dressed in regular clothes rather than pajamas, much to Ron's amusement.

"All yours mate," said Harry, ruffling the excess water out of his hair.

"Right," Ron smirked as he walked past him towards the bathroom, "See you in the morning."

Harry shot him a dirty glance. "Ron, I won't be gone that long."

Ron gave him a droll look before shutting the bathroom door behind him. "Mmhmm. Just don't make too much noise…I'm a light sleeper."

"Ron!" Harry complained loudly, but Ron drowned out Harry's reply in much the same way Harry had and turned on the shower full force. Harry gave a loud rap on the door and heard Ron bark out a laugh. Harry scowled. "Anyway, you sleep like the damn dead! Light sleeper my ass!"

***********************************

Hermione sat up against the wall on her bed, reading a schoolbook by the light of the small lamp by her bed when she heard a light rap on the door.

She smiled without looking up, knowing who it was and called out softly.

"Come in."

Harry poked his tousled head in with a huge grin and Hermione matched the expression, tossing the book down and jogging across the room to him; both enveloping each other in a warm hug.

As Harry kicked the door closed, Hermione noticed the damp hair lying in messy clumps all over his head and the half-opened button down shirt he had quickly thrown on, exposing a well sculpted, damp chest. She felt her pulse quicken as he finally let her go.

She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Miss me much?"

"You know I did," he smiled down at her.

Hermione gave him her best seductive smile. "Show me."

He took in her slim, tanned form in the lavender pajamas he had given her last year, her long, curly taffy-colored hair falling slightly more down one side of her face than the other, brushing her smooth cheeks, which were burning a fetching warm pink. The intense gaze she was giving him, her brown eyes flecked with gold, staring intently into his, made his heart begin to beat a steady rhythm of desire.

Quickly he grabbed her, pushing her gently against the wall, and captured her lips with his own, feeling her gently return the pressure. Their bodies were barely touching, but where they met felt curiously more alive. Hermione felt like every inch of her skin was on fire. Excitement coursed through her veins and her pulse seemed to beat an erratic rhythm…one that made her breathing change and her mind cloud with dizziness.

After both of their arms had encircled each other, he grabbed her up in his arms (which both of them laughed at), and walked over to her bed, tossing her lightly onto it and crawling up beside her, straddling her on all fours. They smiled at each other.

"I hope you don't mind if I snog you senseless." Harry smiled at her, but his eyes burned with an intensity that told Hermione his mood was fare removed from playful.

She smiled back, but returned the hot gaze. "You have to ask?"

That was enough for Harry. He lay on top of her, being careful to transfer most of his weight onto his elbows, and placed his hands on either side of her face, letting his fingers tangle in her soft hair.

She pulled him down into a soft kiss that soon turned into a ferociously passionate one. A kiss that both were using to crush away the summer months without each other, a kiss filled with children's playfulness, friendship turned much deeper, youngsters filled with rough passion and a sense of immortality, and beyond all that, a love that transcends experience, that needs no more time to mature, that had matured with hardship, friendship, and loyalty; even a kiss that tried to erase all the time spent trying to remain just friends.

Hermione's body was on fire with a desire she didn't even know existed. She loved how Harry made her feel; (o god, how did he DO that?). His hands were so slow and warm, almost reverent. Each touch, each caress left a trail of fire on her skin.

She could tell, very easily, that he was just as turned on as she, and that both were beginning to lose their resolve.

Her will power was ebbing, slipping away with every touch. She'd never wanted anything so much in her whole young life as she wanted Harry to stay, and to keep on kissing her and touching her the way he was, so gently, so passionately, and to her surprise, so knowledgeably. She knew he hadn't been with any other girls this way. Was it possible that some things just came naturally?

Harry's mouth caught an area of Hermione's neck that sent pleasure shooting down her body in a sudden wave of tingles. Maybe, she thought heatedly as she pulled his face up to make contact with hers once more.

It wasn't long before Harry was rid of his shirt and had almost rid Hermione of hers. Both knew they were nearing the end of how far they could go, and Harry reluctantly pulled away, lying on his back, one arm under and around Hermione.

He finally spoke, although in a whisper, and Hermione wasn't sure she was supposed to have heard.

"Someday…soon."

It was a mutual pact between them that each wanted to wait until they were married, not that the decision came easily.

To Hermione, it went beyond respect. It meant being loved so much that her partner was willing to commit to her and wait for her. She had known too many girls that had had their hearts torn apart, and she wasn't about to let that happen to her. Though she knew Harry by heart, and knew he'd never hurt her like that, they'd both decided together to wait.

Harry had nothing but love and admiration for her that always kept him, and them, from doing something in the heat of the moment that both would regret. Hermione was too special for that, but he also had other reasons for waiting. If, God forbid, Voldemort were finally able to kill him, he wanted Hermione to be able to move on, no regrets. He didn't want her bonded to him in that way if it wasn't to be…he wanted her to be happy, and free to live the life she deserved, with someone else. God it hurt to think that way…

Harry pulled her close, aware that his body was still reacting to her, but reveling in her closeness all the same. He heard her sigh a little in contentment, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I've sure missed this," he said huskily.

Hermione grinned a little wickedly and threw an arm about his waist, pulling him closer. "What…snogging?"

Harry smiled crookedly. "No…Snogging you. The others just aren't as exciting."

Hermione's jaw dropped open and she raised enough to give Harry a look of feigned shock, giving him a swift punch in the shoulder as well. "Harry James Potter! You are an absolute grotty twit, you know that!?"

"Grotty is a bit harsh…" mused Harry thoughtfully.

Hermione raised up further and slapped Harry on his bare chest, making him laugh out loud in the high-cracked way he usually did when he was barely controlling an absolute fit of laughter. Adorable…but she wouldn't give in, even though her façade did crack a little.

"Take it back or I'll never speak to you again."

"Never is a long time, 'Mione," he turned his head to look up at her with half-lidded eyes.

Hermione smiled cockily, folding her arms across her chest. "I'll never snog you again."

Instantly Harry shot up to his knees and bowed his head to her lap. "Oh please forgive me! I'm such a fool! I'll never joke like that again!"

Hermione sat still for a few moments, pretending to think about it and finally relented, relaxing her posture and tapping Harry on the back of his head. "Well…ok. But only because I adore the way you look when you're worshipping me."

Harry grinned and sat up, pulling her down on top of him as he lay on the bed once again. "Can't help it." He raised a hand to gently stroke her cheek and smiled when she flushed from that simple touch. "You've ruined it, you know. There'll never be anyone else for me. No one else could ever measure up."

Hermione leaned down to touch noses with him and smiled lovingly. "You are a charming git, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged and rolled her over and under him, quickly eliciting a surprised squeal from her.

"I try."

Hermione laughed at that, and both began kissing once again, oblivious to the time, and even to the rest of the world.

* *

* *

* *

The sun rose too early the next morning for Ron and he awoke with a beam of it rudely turning the inside of his eyelids from black to bright red.

He rolled over in his bed and groaned, throwing an arm over his face.

"Blast those enchanted drapes," he croaked out groggily.

At precisely the stroke of seven a.m., the drapes had begun to glide open. The brighter the sun, the more parted they became, until the sunlight beamed directly in the occupant's face. Much more effective than any Muggle alarm clock. The hotel guest could choose to have them open at a different time or counter charmed to not open at all, but Ron had forgotten, and was now left with the consequences.

He groaned again as the curtains drew completely open, the relentless sunlight prying at his eyelids.

"Ok, I'm up!" Ron yelled in aggravation to the drapes as he sat bolt upright in his bed. "It's absobloodylutely morning isn't it, there!? Thanks for that!"

The drapes simply fluttered in response. Ron turned sleep-clouded eyes across the room in the direction of Harry's bed and ran a hand roughly over his face.

"Harry, get up."

No response.

Ron blinked a few times and tried again. "Get up mate…"

Still there was no answer. He squinted and raised a shading hand to his eyes. Harry's unrumpled, clearly undisturbed bed stared guiltily back from the far opposite corner of the room.

Ron dropped his arm in surprise and chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and making his way over to the mirror to survey his form.

"Well I'll be buggered…" he grinned to himself.

"I'll say you will," replied the mirror bluntly, "You should do something about that hair, I think."

Ron frowned and moved away from it, towards his trunk. "Shove off."

At least the mirror was nicer about his hair than Harry's. The "Give it up, dear," Harry always received never failed to lighten Ron's spirits.

He grabbed up some clean, comfortable clothes and thought rather brassly to himself that he might decide to pay Harry and Hermione an early visit before they could explain Harry's absence away.

He smiled rather evilly to himself and began throwing on his clothes, chuckling to himself.

As it turned out, he needn't have tried anything. He went to the door and banged loudly on it with the intention of scaring them to pieces, but got no answer.

After using the Alohamora spell and cracking the door open a bit, he saw that there was no one there to scare. They must have already headed down to breakfast.

Ah hell, thought a disappointed Ron, Couldn't a lad give a decent scare now and then?

He shut the door and headed downstairs where he saw Harry and Hermione, seated at a table in the corner eating a hearty breakfast, sipping on tea, and sharing the Daily Prophet, obviously lost in each other's company.

Ron joined them with a loud huff and slid out his chair, plopping down rather grumpily.

Harry glanced at him over the rim of his cup.

Hermione looked at him oddly and frowned. "What's with you, then?"

Ron snorted and turned a peeved gaze towards Hermione. "Thanks for the wake-up call. I'm so glad to know you two didn't want to eat breakfast without your 'best friend'."

Harry set down his teacup and gave his friend a sardonic glance. "Ron, we couldn't wake you! Guess you don’t remember 'Mione and I shaking the sodding hell out of you earlier."

"Yeah right, mate. That's a load of bosh." Ron waved to the waitress and then turned back to Harry.

Potter shook his head and laid down the copy of the Daily Prophet he'd been reading. "It's true. I wasn't lying when I said you slept like the dead." Then he smirked. "Seemed to be having some pretty smashing dreams too."

Hermione smiled and looked down at her plate. Ron's gaze shot up to both of them, and while he tried to look nonchalant, he came across as a bit nervous. "Th…that's not…Bullocks, mate…"

Harry grinned and then squeezed his eyes shut, affecting a look of sleepy concentration and smiling stupidly. "That's right Lav…you know what I like…C'mon baby…"

Ron's face flushed as red as his hair. "I never did!"

Harry smiled maliciously and resumed drinking his tea. "Hermione was there. If you don't believe me, ask her."

Ron turned a dark gaze Hermione's way and she glanced up at him quickly, stifling a laugh. She turned back to her food, concentrating extra hard on the biscuit she was buttering, and accidentally let a hearty snort slip out.

"Not very lady-like," quipped a displeased Ron.

"Neither is what Lavender was obviously doing to you," she shot back.

Harry, who had opened the Daily Prophet in front of his face, now shook with laughter and gripped it tightly, the paper trembling with him.

Ron huffed in annoyance and reaching over, crushed the paper down to the table and glared at Harry.

Harry wiped a tear from his eyes and grinned. "HA!…Oh Ron…You are quality flippin' entertainment, you know that, mate?"

Ron gave them a prickly narrowing of his eyes. "Glad I could help…Here I thought I'd gotten up early to surprise the two of you doing Merlin knows what," (Hermione scowled), "and I find you both down here waiting to give ME grief! You two take all the fun out of a bloke's life, you know it?"

Harry smiled and smoothed out his paper. "You love it."

Hermione patted his arm reassuringly. "It's ok to like Lavender, Ron…You just might want to get your dreams in check before we get to Hogwarts. It wouldn't do to have the whole seventh year boy's dorm knowing what goes on in your head."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Harry suddenly cut him off with a decidedly less playful expression. "Nevermind that mate…have a look at this."

He slapped the paper down in front of Ron and folded his arms. "Page four…read it aloud."

Ron opened the paper and stared at the column in front of him with wide eyes.

UNICORN KILLINGS ABOUND

by Lorivan Thatchmire

The continued slaughter of unicorns in the Forbidden Forest near our esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry leave Magical Wildlife rangers and Science Wizards baffled.

According to Harv Hortimire, the head of Magical Wildlife Services in the Ministry of Magic, the killings are "absolutely senseless, a travesty. Why would anyone want to kill a unicorn? Beautiful creatures, they are. Sure the blood has life giving qualities, but as we all know, the blood doesn't necessarily give the desired effect. I mean, who would choose to live such an empty, soulless life?"

Who indeed? But as this reporter has gathered from Gemma Burgleton, a magi-scientist at the Institute for Advanced Wizard Sciences, the perpetrator has to be someone who is on the edge of death itself, someone beyond desperate to survive, even though a half-life is all he might receive.

Since speaking to witches and wizards in the surrounding area of Hogsmeade, the locals have been more than wary, some closing their shops early, or even permanently, as Japes and Gambol joke shop has chosen to do.

Farnswick Japes and Hortence Gambol, owners of the business, have been witnesses along with others to more than the odd scare in their years of business dealings at Hogsmeade.

"It just isn't safe here anymore," says Japes of Hogsmeade, "Ever since this's been coming about there's not been much business. No one's in the mood for a prank when evil's lurking about. We've been steadily losing business over the years because of the resurgence of You-know-who."

Says Gambol, "We just can't make bloody ends meet anymore."

The mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has brought about many concerns for the locals who soon began to suspect the dark lord. "Who else would need it so much? Who else would be so vile?" asks a local who wished to remain anonymous, "I'm thinking of closing up shop as well; maybe moving. Too much going on in recent years."

Who else indeed, muses this reporter. Who is behind the killings? Only time will tell. But the rumor that is spreading about the evil lurking within the Forbidden Forest carries with it a heavy blanket of fear that no one can deny.

Ron slapped the paper down with an astonished whistle. "Bloody hell. So that's why Japes and Gambol are closing shop. Fred and George never asked why…They just jumped at the chance to grab it up."

Both Harry and Hermione looked solemnly from each other to Ron.

Harry sighed in heavy frustration, running his fingers through his hair. "It won't do to ignore it any longer. The question is what the bloody hell to do about it? I don't want to wait until Voldemort is able to get his body back, or wait until he strikes again but what choice do we have? I just…I can't kill him."

Ron fixed Harry with a serious gaze. "Can't, or won't mate?"

Harry was jolted abruptly from his thoughts by this and turned a disdainful look on his friend. "Both Ron! The only way to get rid of him is with a friggin' dark curse and I can't use the dark arts unless I want to be bloody taken in by them myself!" Again he clawed a hand through his hair and let it come to rest on the back of his neck, but Hermione grabbed it and held it in reassurance.

Ron sighed and glanced sideways at his friend in frustration. "I know mate, I know…It's just…I have a feeling, you know? Somehow…somehow I feel that we're heading towards something big. An end for all."

"I do too, Ron," said Hermione, a hand on both his and Harry's arms, "Something is coming; I can feel it…I don't think Voldemort will sit idle for much longer."

"I'm sure he won't," said Harry, lifting his head and slumping back against his chair heavily, "The unicorn blood is a necessity for now…until he can come up with some way to get his body back again; and it won't be through me. Dumbledore'll probably have the teachers on triple alert now where I'm concerned; you two as well."

"Us!?" exclaimed Ron, "Why us!?" He waved to the waitress again, and with a nod and a smile, she began heading their way.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Hermione, summoning the teapot over from Harry's side of the table. It hovered over her cup and poured her another, setting back down rather heavily. Hot tea splattered a little over all three of them. Hermione looked chagrinned. "Sorry…a little nervous talking about all this…Ron, after last year and what happened to me, you really have to ask? You're close to Harry too."

"That happened because of Starven, not some portkey like with Diggory!" said Ron, "And after all of the extra security charms Dumbledore had placed over the school after last year, it ought to be harder for Voldemort to sneak into than Azkaban! Not that anyone would want to…"

The waitress had reached their table, and almost dropped her tray in reaction to the last few snatches of conversation she overheard. She tucked it under her arm and glared at the three young customers, finally turning her attention to Ron.

"Something I can get for you then?" she asked shortly in a thick, Cockney accent.

Ron noticed the glare and eyed her curiously, answering slowly. "Ah…yes, I'll just have the breakfast special, and…"

"That all then?" she broke in rudely.

Ron stopped and lowered his eyebrows in puzzlement at the frizzy-haired woman. "Something wrong?"

The waitress pursed her lips and eyed all three of them again before slapping down her tray and leaning between Harry and Hermione. She spoke in an angry whisper. "You'll wanna watch wha' you three youngsters discuss in this establishmen'! It's doin' no one, 'specially me a lot of good what with you three witterin' on about You-Know-'Oo. Everyone's frightened enough about this unicorn business wivvout daft younguns like you talkin' outta your arses, scarin' away customers! Business is off enough as it is!"

All three sat up straight in bewilderment, but Hermione spoke first. "I'm so sorry! We didn't know we were being loud."

"Not loud so much as speakin' abou' him at all," said the waitress, straightening and clutching the tray to her ample chest, "We don' speak his name, young missy!"

Hermione sighed impatiently and repeated the same phrase she had used before. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

The waitress narrowed her eyes in aggravation. "Well in case you missed it, lassie, there's already enough fear here to fill all th' vaults in Gringott's! Now no more talk a' this here! Business is already so bloomin' low the boss's thinkin' abou' closin' this place, an' I've got two sprogs to keep fed at home. Don' make me ask you again!" In the same breath she turned to Ron. "Now…what to drink?"

Ron worked his jaw until he was able to form words. "O..orange juice…Please."

She smiled falsely at him. "Spiffin'. It'll be jus' a moment then. An' 'Arry…yours'll be on the house, complimen's of th' owner. He's a big fan a' yours." She gave him what she considered to be a conspiratorial wink and waddled away towards the kitchens.

Ron turned back to his two friends with a raise of his eyebrows and a derisive snort. "Gone 'round the twist, that one has."

Harry shook his head. "No…She's bloody scared though, that's for sure."

Hermione sighed. "She said the owner's thinking about closing this place. I hope Diagon Alley doesn't start losing shops as well!"

Ron nodded, though obviously in thought. "We're a little farther away from the Forbidden Forest than Hogsmeade is though. Scotland to England would be a rather long way to travel, even for Vol…(ahem) him…especially in his condition."

Harry nodded, eyeing the restaurant carefully in an attempt to verify the waitresses' words. It seemed she was right. The Cauldron was unusually quiet for this time of year. Usually it was filled with students, parents, and teachers alike, each taking a break from start of the school year shopping to catch a little bite to eat or drink, or to catch up with neighbors and friends on the latest gossip from the papers or from Rita Skeeter's column.

Even in the streets, the three had noticed an unusual lack of bustle, or at least the wrong kind. Instead of the usual excited hustle, there was an anxious hurrying and a heavy feeling of worry among the crowd. Very few stopped to chat pleasantly, all were in too much of a rush to gather their supplies and retreat back to the safety of their homes. Harry would have been surprised that the turnout for school supplies was so great except for the fact that Dumbledore had included in the start of the school term letters that he and the other teachers had taken every precaution that they could after last year to insure that the school grounds were indeed safe for students to return. Even after all of this though, Harry noticed that the crowd in Diagon Alley was noticeably thinner.

Very few of the Cauldron's tables were occupied either, and the ones that were seemed to be filled with whispers and hushed undertones. The patrons all seemed to be on the edge of their seats, too quiet, and jumpy at every loud sound.

Harry, however, along with Ron and Hermione, failed to notice, or rather didn't pay special attention to the tall stranger in the dark hooded cloak, who had chosen the darkest most out of the way booth in the little eatery area.

He sat quietly, pretending to concentrate on his copy of the Daily Prophet, and sipped his tea, every now and then taking covert glances at the trio of teenagers, obviously deep in conversation at a table across the room. So far, he'd been careful enough to conceal the fact that he'd been following them, and had kept a safe distance behind, taking note of every single thing they did, right down to where they went, what they did, even what they bought.

He was gauging them, sizing them up, waiting for any small grain of new information…especially about Potter; not only for the dark lord, but also for himself. He gritted his teeth as he watched the Potter boy laugh at something one of his idiot friends had just said.

If the dark lord hadn't insisted that he himself be reserved the right to kill Potter, the death eater would have done it himself. He hated Potter for his own reasons. But this time, Voldemort had insisted that the man simply follow all three, not that it had been difficult. They were hardly ever apart; the damn three musketeers.

But it wouldn't do to start raging about them now. His mission was simply to observe; to gather information for his master; and gather he would.

* *

* *

* *

7. Chapter 7: Ginny's Plan

Chapter 7: Ginny meets Draco

Ginny sighed, and sighed, and sighed some more. She'd never been a patient witch, but her mother was now pushing the little that she did have to its limit. They had been in Flourish and Blotts now for at least an hour, and her mother was still flipping through back issues of Witch Wear for the latest fashions, and selecting cookbooks to restock her small library at home. Currently, she had selected two, and Ginny idly perused through Casual Cuisine for the Cauldron as she waited.

She was supposed to have met Draco Malfoy almost fifteen minutes ago at Quality Quidditch supplies, and she was late. She hated being late.

"Mum, really. Can't we go now? You have a load of cookbooks at home," she tried again, determined not to sound whiney. After all she was sixteen now and she wanted her mother to see her as a blossoming adult; even though Molly hadn't let her come to Diagon Alley by herself like she had Ron. Ginny secretly seethed about it, but as she knew, she would always be the baby of the family.

Molly slapped the magazine closed and eyed her daughter suspiciously. "Land sakes girl! I've never known you to be so eager to get to the Quidditch shop! That's usually Ron's favorite romping ground! Now what's got you in such a hurry?"

Platinum blonde hair, cool gray eyes, a tall lean form, and an icy demeanor that I'm currently working on… Ginny favored her mother with her most innocent smile. "Mum, you know I'm trying out for the team this year…I've been saving all summer for the Quicksilver Two Thousand Four. I want to snatch one up before they're all gone!"

Molly sighed and continued scanning the cookbook section. "Well alright then…I'm almost done here…Ah! Here it is, and the last copy too!"

She triumphantly grabbed up Champion Charbroiling Charms by Tabitha Buttersby and grinned, holding it up like a trophy to admire, and sighed in contentment. She already had Basting and Broiling with Buttersby, and Tabitha's Tantalizing Treats at home, and had had enough successful dinner parties to impress the neighbors for at least a year, but she wasn't done yet; not by a long shot!

Ginny fought the impulse to roll her eyes. It wouldn't do to have her mother angry at her when she was so close to her goal, but seeing her mother's face filled with glee gave her a small chuckle. She knew what her mother was on about. She and her closest neighbor, Betsy Brumbles had been dueling over who was the best cook for as long as Ginny could remember. They were the best of friends and the worst of competitors at the same time. Each frequently had the others family over for dinner, but Ginny wasn't sure if it was for friendship sake, or to prove who was the better chef.

Well could she recall the many hours over her young life she'd been subjected to questions about who's cooking was better. "Now Ginny, isn't my roast beef much juicier than Brumbles? She constantly forgets basting with beef stock"…or…"Do you remember Brumbles sourdough bread? Dry as a cotton sock, it is…"

Ginny smiled politely at her mother and took her hand, leading her towards the cash register. Time for a little intervention…"There mum, done then? Time is a-wasting."

Molly gave her youngest a furtive glance, but paid for the items and walked out with Ginny, being led rather too quickly along for her liking.

***********************************

As was expected, the moment Ginny and her mother entered Quality Quidditch Supplies, they noticed it was packed. Not the usual amount of witches and wizards, but nonetheless, there was scarce walking room.

Ginny deviously started a conversation between Molly and Darcy Brown, Lavender's mother, and when it became clear that they had lost interest in her, she snuck away to find Draco.

She had agreed to meet him at the broom-servicing aisle, but her efforts to get there quickly were once again thwarted by the throng of people she was pressed against. She was forced to edge her way along the rows of shelves beginning each aisle, and found herself being bumped and jostled along, no matter how much she tried to avoid it.

She finally reached the correct aisle, but had the bad fortune to get a section of her long red hair tangled in the brush end of a broom as she tried to edge past it. The bristles had been sticking out of the end of a shelf just at the height of her head, and were perfect for snagging.

"Damn it!" Ginny growled quietly to herself as she twisted to the side in an attempt to untangle the mass of red snarled in the broom.

An unconcerned drawl whispered very near her ear. "Not very lady-like."

That cool, aloof voice made her tingle all over every time she heard it, and sod it all if he didn't know it! She jumped, despite herself, but twisted enough to catch the tall pale form of Draco Malfoy behind her, casually leaning against the shelves, hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and a twisted smile on his face.

Ginny recovered herself enough to give him a frown. "Well don't just stand there you prat! Help me get out of this!"

Draco glanced at the red tangled in the broom, and moved disinterestedly forward to help, in no particular hurry. "You're late," he stated flatly.

He came closer, working nimble fingers through her locks. Ginny turned a little to take in his form towering over her, and shivered involuntarily when his knuckles grazed lightly against her cheek. Draco almost looked taken aback, as if he hadn't meant the slight touch to happen, but recovered quickly as usual, and threw a snide remark Ginny's way.

"Not cold in here, is it…"

Ginny gave him a huge scowl and once free, began finger brushing the snarls out of her hair. "You're assuming I was reacting to you?"

"No one else here," replied Malfoy with an arrogant shrug.

"How about that gorgeous bloke over there?" Ginny looked past him with a wanton expression on her face as if she spotted someone highly desirable.

Draco's eyebrows dropped and he quickly glanced behind him to see a little boy of around eight or nine haranguing his mother to follow him to the toy aisle.

He turned back around to eye Ginny a little angrily for having made him look, but she was currently finding a stain and lacquering kit for broom handles particularly fascinating. Malfoy scowled, despite his usual indifferent demeanor and let it slip for once.

"Not funny, Weasley."

"The name's Ginny, and I wasn't under the impression that you cared much." She glanced his way and casually flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Draco realized she'd caught him in an actual emotion and worked his mouth a little before he could come up with a suitable reply. "I think you mistook curiosity for caring…"

Ginny smirked. "That was an oddly serious curiosity you were displaying there, Malfoy…You'd better watch it, someone might see through that disaffected façade you put on one day and actually see the real you."

Draco studied her through half-lidded eyes and merely shrugged in response. "I care about things…I just don't let my emotions rule me. Especially like the Weasel does."

Ginny narrowed her eyes angrily. "Are you referring to Ron? Because if we're gonna be friends, you'll need to learn to respect him."

"Like he respects me?" Draco shot back.

Ginny sighed and tossed down the servicing kit. "I'm working on him."

Draco sneered a little and shook his head, platinum blonde locks falling into his gray eyes. He swiped easily at them and quickly noticed Ginny noticing.

A slow blush crept up her face and she looked away.

He smirked egotistically. She was too easy. "Save it, Red. Weasley and I will never be friends. You and I probably never will either."

Ginny glanced back up at him and moved closer, her blue eyes alight with something resembling a challenge. "Then what are we doing here?"

It was Malfoy's turn to look slightly dumbfounded, and for once he found himself less than completely articulate. "You…amuse me…Why else would I hang out with a Gryffindor…"

Ginny cocked her head slightly and moved so close to him that he could feel her breath on his neck. "I don't know. Why would you?"

Draco looked down at the pretty red head and his mind began working double time. You could kiss her right now…she wants you too…NO! Are you daft!? She's a Gryffindor, and a Weasley! Besides, she's too damn…good. There's no way. She's an amusement. I don't want or need her. I don't need anyone; I never have.

Afraid of Lucius' disapproval?…I'm not afraid of that bastard!…Hmm…your body sure disagrees with you… Shut the hell up! She's female, isn't she? Explanation enough…

Immediately, Malfoy shut off the inner discourse, letting the shroud of distant ease fall over his features once again. He was in control once more, and that's the way it would stay. He stepped back from Ginny and let his hands slide easily into the pockets of his robe. His mouth held an amused twist along the corners.

"It takes more than that to affect me, Red. You'll have to try harder."

Ginny cocked her head and smiled at him, a wicked gleam just barely visible in her eyes and thought determinedly to herself. All in good time… "You're assuming I want too? You're too predictable. You think every witch within twenty feet of you automatically wants you…"

"Fifty…and yeah. That about sums it up."

Ginny's smile faltered at the irritating look of confidence on his face. "W…well not me."

Draco moved closer and cocked his head to the side, meeting her gaze steadily. "Is that so, Red?"

Ginny felt herself beginning to shiver, but remembered her plan. She wasn't about to let him know how she felt. Let him think she was just an amusement. But in the meantime, he would be chasing her without even knowing it. She mentally nodded to herself. She had to play this carefully… She met his gaze with an unwavering confidence of her own, and willed her body to stop reacting.

"It is," she replied simply.

Draco looked a little nonplussed, but only around the eyes. Weasley was a damn tough nut to crack. But he would find her weakness, and then, he'd be done with her. That's how it always was with the girls he chose to play with. It was only a matter of time… "All right. If that's how you wanna play it."

"Play it?" said Ginny airily, "I'm confused. Are we in a Quidditch match? I'm not playing at anything Malfoy…and I'm done with you for today; I've got other things to do. You can come along if you like, but don't worry. I won't cry if you don't."

Malfoy stepped closer. She was good. "You sure about that?" He drawled coolly.

Damn him for being so bloody restrained… "Absolutely," Ginny replied. "I guess I'll see you at school."

Malfoy sneered, and turned to leave. "Maybe. But don't get your hopes up."

Ginny smiled in return. "I won't."

She turned to walk away and find her mother. She really was done with him for today, and she felt she had played him well. She would be leaving him more than a little confused. She doubted any other girl had ever reacted to him in that manner as he had girls throwing themselves at him almost as much as Harry did.

She turned one last time to take a surreptitious glance at him, and what she saw made her smile. He was turning to leave as well, but was leaving her with a little less of the self-assured manner about him. She smiled even wider as she walked away. It was going to be a good year….

**********************************

8. Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

The rest of the weekend flew by too fast for Harry, Hermione and Ron. Their last morning and early afternoon was spent gadding about in the usual fashion, trying their best for at least the few remaining hours of their holiday to forget about school, N.E.W.T.s and most of all, Voldemort. The time for worrying about him would come soon enough, though it was becoming hard to ignore his threat, or the effect even the mention of him was having on all of the wizarding world.

The overall feeling in Diagon Alley was one of taut anxiety. It seemed the whole area was on the absolute edge of their seats, poised to jump and run the minute more news was reported.

So it was that that afternoon, though somewhat overshadowed with the looming threat of the dark lord, went by almost as usual. There were few that felt bravely as they did; that to go on about their lives was the best slap in the face they could give Voldemort. However, those who did were cheerful enough, and stopped to chat with one another and peruse the shops, just as they always had, though the missing crowd of people and the early closing of shops all weekend had not gone unnoticed.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were now entering the Quidditch shop. Harry had given his Firebolt 2004 to Ron for a good luck present on joining Gryffindor's team, and was now in search of a new one for himself. The new Quicksilver was a great broom, but since Harry could afford it, he wanted to get the top of the line, and the newest broom had been staring tantalizingly out of the shop window at him ever since Friday.

The Flame-thrower series was the best of the best, even out-flying and out maneuvering the Firebolt. It was a whopping one hundred fifty galleons, but Harry wanted it, and decided to give it to himself as a belated birthday present from the Dursley's since they had lowered themselves to giving him a dirty sock wrapped in newspaper as his gift.

He and Hermione were headed toward the new racing brooms when they realized that they had lost sight of Ron.

Hermione twirled in all directions, her eyes searching for him and Harry shook his head, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"This's insane!" he said loudly, "What's ever been more important to Ron than Quidditch!?"

Hermione caught a flash of flaming red out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Ron in the far corner of the store, currently having his hair ruffled, and a kiss planted on him by a very fond Lavender Brown.

She gawped at them and quickly turned away with an unreadable expression, gently pulling on Harry's sleeve.

He turned quickly back to her. "What…do you see him?"

Hermione gave him a sly look. "Oh, I see him all right. Look…"

She pointed towards the far end of the store, and Harry, following her finger, made out the intertwined forms of Ron and Lavender, snogging in a corner. They seemed oblivious to the angry glances they were getting from other customers, especially parents, who were currently averting their children's eyes.

Harry's jaw dropped and he turned back to Hermione with a goofy look on his face.

"Just friends, aye?"

Hermione continued to glance over at Ron and Lavender, but her expression was troubled.

Harry frowned at her as they walked back towards the racing brooms. "What's wrong then? Y…you're not jealous, are you?"

Hermione turned back to him. "Wh…Huh? Oh, Harry of course not! That would be like being jealous of my brother!" She smiled, but still looked troubled. "It's just…Lavender's got…well, a sort of reputation."

"Reputation…" repeated Harry.

Hermione looked saddened. "Well, she's sort of…a heartbreaker. I know Ron acts like he wants a load of girls, but he doesn't mean it really. He really does want someone to love. I just hope Lavender's not using him."

Harry smiled then and put a hand to her cheek. "You're sweet for worrying, love. But Ron's a big lad. He can take care of himself."

Hermione smiled and took his hand in her own. "I know."

Harry then gave her a seductively wicked glance and stepped closer to her, speaking in a husky tone. "So…am I like a brother to you too?"

Hermione dipped her head and looked up, meeting his steady gaze with her own. She felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks just from the sultry look he was giving her. That messy coal-black hair, those greener than green eyes and that damn sexy lopsided grin… She sighed. She was completely and madly given over, and she knew it. Worse still, she didn't care.

"Not hardly," she replied, "And how about me? Am I like a sister to you?"

Harry stared into her large brown-gold eyes and gripped his hands into fists, trying to ward off the overwhelming urge to grab her and snog her down to the floor right then and there.

"I don't think what I feel for you would be legal in that sense."

Hermione came closer, and stood on tiptoes, her body touching his, lips so near to a kiss, and whispered to him, her breath mingling with his.

"That's good to know."

Then, without warning, she simply pulled away and whirled, beginning to walk back down the aisle, but Harry growled and grabbed her hand, yanking her gently back to him and giving her a silly grin.

"I don't think so."

Hermione squealed, her eyes darting from side to side. "Harry, we're in a shop!"

"I don't mind."

"Harry! Th…the customers might!" said Hermione, trying hard not to give in to him. Maybe Harry hadn't been raised better, but she most certainly had.

His arms tightened around her, and she found herself returning the embrace, despite herself.

"Ron and Lavender seem to be doing all right…" began Harry again.

Hermione pushed against him, though not with all of her strength. "Well, just because they have no self-control doesn't mean we don't!" she said indignantly.

Harry touched noses with her. "I don't."

"Don't what…"

"Have any self-control," finished Harry with an irresistible smile. "Not when it comes to you…"

Hermione thinned her lips in determination. She wouldn't give in no matter how adorably he grinned.

"Harry, damn it…"

Immediately she sucked in her breath, her eyes wide, and both she and Harry slapped a hand over their mouths at the same time; Harry out of shock and she in complete dismay.

Hermione shook her head at herself; disappointed that she had done the very thing she often got reprimanded Harry and Ron for. "I…I swore!" she muffled through her hand.

"You did," said a muffled Harry with raised eyebrows, "The horror…"

Hermione dropped her hand and frowned at him, but both burst out laughing at the same time. She shoved away from him, finally free, but the sight of him doubled over laughing changed her mind.

"Oh, sod it all." She waltzed back over to him and grabbed him in a fierce slow kiss, which he immediately began returning.

It was then, while they were both wrapped up in each other that the screaming began. The shrill piercing scream of a young witch, coupled with some loud shouting and more bursts of terrified activity seemed to carry all the way through Diagon Alley.

Harry and Hermione quickly broke apart in shock, and both whipped around to see that Ron and Lavender had done the same.

By the time the four had raced across the shop to each other and given each other a once over, they glanced out of the shop windows to see that almost every shop in the alley had emptied. The crowds outside in the street were frenzied, and seemed to be looking up to the sky in horror and shock.

The four friends raced out into the alley to join the others, and found that the sky was no longer blue and sunny. All of Diagon Alley had been shrouded in a dusky dark. The late afternoon light was covered in thick dark gray clouds that seemed to be edged in a dull unearthly red. In the middle of the clouds, directly above the Quidditch shop a sentence had begun to form, colored a smoky black and written in Latin, with something else above it. A something that made every witch and wizard that happened to be armed draw their wands, and made Harry do the same, instinctively pushing Hermione behind him.

There was no mistaking the symbol. The bleached image of a skull, with glowing red eyes, jaw gaping in a mad grin, was made further abhorrent by the black scaled snake that had slithered under the jawbone to protrude from the mouth. The serpent's eyes were turned towards the sentence above it, as if beckoning all to read. At once, as soon as the images had finished appearing, murmuring in the crowd turned into a roar of questions and a flurry of panicked activity.

The dark mark had been placed over Diagon Alley.

"Wh…what is it!?"

"What does it say!?"

"I don't remember much Latin, but there's no mistaking that mark…" began one frightened wizard.

"Move aside please…" A deep older voice called over the crowd and moved forward.

Mr. Ollivander had never been a social wizard; in fact he was quite eccentric and more often than not preferred his own company. But he recognized the need for a voice of reason in the crowd, and by Merlin, he knew his Latin.

"Recidivus caligo hetairia ea inculco vos, fio adesse." After reciting it aloud, Ollivander frowned, deeply and anxiously. There was no debate needed about what the message's intent was. It was clear that Voldemort had sent it, and that the danger was very grave.

He stepped back into the crowd a little, swiping a wrinkled, veined hand over his mouth nervously.

"What does it say!?" cried an anxious wizard from the crowd who was clutching his wife to him.

"Mr. Ollivander, please!" Said one wizard shakily.

The rest of the crowd began to murmur in fright once again.

Harry stepped forward and grabbed Ollivander's arm, the other hand wrapped securely around Hermione's.

"Mr. Ollivander…" he whispered urgently.

Ollivander turned to look at Harry, and the look he gave him made the boy step back and lower his brows in confusion. What was this mixture of worry and pity he was giving him?

The old man turned his eyes back up to the sky. "It translates: 'the return of the dark society is upon you. Be ready.' "

At once, the crowd around them exploded with loud cries, shrieks of fright, and loud murmuring. Shopkeepers began racing back to their shops, bent on closing early, or maybe for good. Mothers and fathers clung to children. Husbands clung to wives, and Hermione and Harry clung to one another for dear life, tears streaming down their cheeks. The carefree weekend had ended, as they knew it would, and it was time once again to face the harsh realities of life. Their time of reprieve was over.

Voldemort was free, and in a sad, ironic way, Harry and his friends were not. Harry now understood the look Ollivander had given him; understood the looks the crowd shot his way in between panicking and hurrying to leave Diagon Alley; rushing too and fro, back and forth, around and between he, Hermione, Ron and Lavender. Their haunted eyes told the entire story. Some looked to him to be a hero, and some looked at him with contempt, as if he had brought this evil upon them. They full believed that Harry and Voldemort were intertwined; that everything Voldemort did, every action he took, had direct connections with Harry. And in some ways they were right. But Voldemort was out for more than the destruction of Harry Potter. He wanted ultimate power. He wanted to be the ruler over all, and even if the others didn't understand this, at least Harry had a core few that did.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, content to let Hermione's warm hug shelter him, if only for a brief moment. When she tried to pull away to look at him, he crushed her to him tighter and spoke to her almost desperately.

"Don't let go yet…Not yet, please."

Ron, with Lavender's hand in his, walked up to Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry opened his eyes to see Ron give him a look of understanding that spoke a thousand words without utterance. Thank Merlin for Ron.

He nodded to him, and Ron stepped away, trying to answer the quiet questions Lavender had begun to ask.

The alley was almost deserted now. Everyone had scurried away, or apparated out. Shops were closed and locked, lights were off, and almost all was quiet, at only just after dusk.

But Ollivander had stayed, now watching as the dark mark and it's red words began to fade, leaving only the light gray sky, it's clouds edged in dusky purple and pink and the last thumbnail of the sun setting over a hill towards the west, just past Gringotts.

He slowly turned and walked towards Harry, his footsteps echoing oddly in the deserted alley, and placed a surprisingly strong hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry let Hermione go and turned red-rimmed eyes towards the shopkeeper.

"Mr. Ollivander, I’m sorry…"

"Sorry!?" Said Ollivander loudly, letting his hand drop. "Sorry for what lad, you didn't cause this. No matter what others may think. No. I just want to warn you. This dark society he speaks of…it can only mean one thing."

Harry closed his eyes briefly in response, a weariness that had nothing to do with the long day washing over him.

Ollivander grimaced for the boy's sake, but continued. "Mr. Potter, this was no vague warning…it was almost like a promise. He has always promised to return; to fulfill his so-called destiny. I believe he now knows that he needs help to do so."

Lavender came closer, confusion evident in her face. "Y…you mean the death eaters? They were disbanded a long time ago!"

Harry's expression was stony. "Disbanded, yes. Disloyal, no. There are a lot of them just waiting for a signal from Voldemort."

"Ah yes," said Ollivander, an unsettling look of deep concentration on his face. When he found something to focus on he usually centered on it with all of his energy. Right now his focus was Harry. "But can you think of no others he might recruit?"

Harry stepped back from Ollivander with a slight look of alarm, but Ron stepped forward. "The only others are in Azkaban," he said a little more forcefully than he meant to, "There's no bloody way Voldemort can break in there!"

Ollivander was a little taken aback by Ron's tone, but saw Potter lay a reassuring hand on the other boy's shoulder. When he was upset, Ron sometimes seemed more on edge than he meant to.

The old shopkeeper, now understanding the Weasley boy's tone, moved forward again, sharply eyeing all four of the young people before him. "Do you not think that even now, he has a helper? Harry," his unsettling haze fell on Potter again, "you took his body again last year, did you not? Do you think, in his condition, that Voldemort himself was able to conjure up the warning and the dark mark?"

Hermione, her face suddenly draining with the awful thought, grabbed Harry's hand and gripped it hard. "Of course your right, Mr. Ollivander…Voldemort has to have someone helping him."

Ollivander nodded, letting his direct gaze roam over the little group, at last resting on Harry. "Be careful, Mr. Potter. Whoever Voldemort's servant is…he may be closer than you think."

Harry, his face full of determination, nodded curtly to the wizened shopkeeper, and the four watched as he walked back down the alley and into his shop, slamming the door and charming his "Open" sigh to read "Closed until further notice."

As soon as the shopkeeper faded from view, Lavender took a step back from the others. She was clearly terrified, but was trying to appear brave, even though her frame visibly shook.

"I…I'm sorry, Ron. I need to go." She stepped away from the three fearfully.

"Wait," said Ron, quickly grabbing her hand, "How're you getting home? You came alone didn't you?"

She stepped back further, taking her hand back and casting her blue eyes left and right as if waiting for someone to jump out at her. "Came with mum…but I convinced her to apparate home and let me tromp about on my own. Sh…she'll be worried."

"Lavender," said Hermione, stepping toward the other girl, "you certainly can't apparate! How're you going to get there?"

"Portkey," said Lavender, "Had mum leave me one near Quality Quidditch Supplies."

She neared an old beat-up hat, lying near the alleyway between the Quidditch shop and the next and hovered her hand over it. "It'll only be active for the next hour so, no worries. No one will follow me."

She turned a tremulous smile towards Ron, who was gazing sadly at her.

"I…I'll see you at school, Ron."

She touched the hat, and a strange swirl appeared in front of her, distorting her features into a spiral shape until with a decisive pop, she disappeared.

Ron closed his eyes briefly and turned back around to face Hermione and Harry with a look of bewilderment on his face. "She…looked frightened of me…of us."

Hermione shook her head and grabbed Ron's arm as the three make their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "You? Nonsense, Ron. It was the dark mark, obviously. Why would you think such a thing?"

"You saw the way she looked at me!"

"It wasn't you, Ron," said Hermione. "Stop spouting rubbish."

Harry stopped in front of them and looked pointedly at Ron. "I think Hermione's right, Ron. But if Lavender was afraid of something other than the dark mark, it would be my fault."

Hermione was visibly annoyed. "Now you? What is this?"

Harry shook his head at her. " 'Mione, it makes sense. Trouble always seems to follow me because of Voldemort. We're linked in more ways than one. And because you're my friends, it follows you too. I saw that same look on everyone's faces here tonight when they looked at me. They think I brought this on them."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but Harry was right. Lavender could have also been frightened at being in the company of those that Voldemort seemed to hate the most, but there was no sense in thinking about that right now.

She shook her head and linked arms with Harry and Ron again as they headed back towards the Cauldron.

"We don't know anything right now, ok? Ron, just talk to her at school. We need to get back to our rooms before they close up the Cauldron as well."

With a heavy heart, Ron nodded quietly, and the three make their way down the deserted darkened alley.

**********************************

The lone figure hidden in the darkness of adjacent Knockturn Alley smiled to himself as he watched the three teens pass by. He had done his job and performed it well. Voldemort would be pleased.

The dark mark had not only been served as a warning; its other design had been successful as well. Potter was being drawn in, carefully led along. The boy knew that he and Voldemort were intertwined, and felt the burden of being the one person Voldemort sought to destroy, and by relation, those who chose to interact with him.

Voldemort had hoped to be able to isolate the boy through fear, but those who chose to be with Potter were fiercely loyal.

The death eater glowered to himself in the darkness and stepped out of the alley to catch a last glimpse of the three as they made their way into the Cauldron. Despite his failed attempts at Potter's complete isolation, Voldemort would be pleased. The dark mark and its message had been clearly understood, and the old fool Ollivander was clearly not yet too ancient for concise thinking. He had been right. Voldemort was preparing for an action that would put the whole of the wizarding world under his command. Soon, the master's dark society would be assembled, and every witch and wizard alive would be left quaking with fear, under the command of the true leader once again.

Fear had returned to the heart of the wizarding community. Then the death eater, thinking to himself, chuckled and pulled the hood of his robe over his head in preparation to disapparate. Had it ever really left?

With a smile full of pompousness, the figure promptly vanished; on his way to report his work to his master.

9. Chapter 9: Home to Hogwarts

Chapter 9: Home to Hogwarts

Author's note: A helpful reviewer informed me in my last story that if Harry was sixteen then Colin Creevey would be fifteen, not fourteen. My bad! You are absolutely right! So in the sequel, I'm changing his age to sixteen from fifteen, as it's a year later. Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers, and happy reading! Special hello to The Fly! =0)

The train station was busy as usual as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped out of the Muggle cab. The three had had to hire two cabs for the trip to King's Cross Station, one to carry them, and the other for their luggage.

The cabby had frowned suspiciously as the trio loaded their trunks, one orange bottlebrush tailed cat, one snowy owl, and one tiny rambunctious owl carefully into his cab. Ron had finally left Hermione and Harry to pay for the fare, as he had no idea about Muggle money.

They did their best to avert their eyes from the dubious glares of both cabbies and paid them quietly, piled their belongings on trolley carts and wheeled them towards the train platform.

Hermione heard the distinct utterance of "Blimey…kids today!" from one of the cabbies as they drove away.

"Whew!" muttered Ron as he watched the cabs disappear from view, "That was bloody close…"

"Ron, from now on maybe you should let Harry or I pay for any Muggle activities," said Hermione a little bossily, "That man's eyes nearly popped right from his head when you offered him galleons and knuts!"

"How was I supposed to know!?" replied Ron defensively, "Muggle money is such bilge! How can those flimsy notes be worth anything!?"

"It'd take too long to explain, Ron," said Harry with a smile as they neared the tall brick pillar between platforms nine and ten. "Do you want to go first then?"

Ron nodded. "Might as well."

He scanned the crowd for signs of anyone watching and when satisfied, took off at a run towards the deceptively solid pillar. Harry and Hermione soon followed, letting the wall swallow them as well, trolleys and all.

Immediately after they emerged on Platform nine and three quarters, Harry felt a specific oddness about the place. The Hogwarts Express was still gleaming, black and red on the tracks, waiting patiently for its passengers, and parents and students were still milling about as usual, giving hugs and kisses goodbye with promises of letters and gifts. But he noticed a change in the air; a certain sense of caution in the faces of the crowd and apprehension in their eyes.

The most significant change however was the very apparent fact that there were noticeably fewer students than usual.

"Let's hurry, now!" Yelled a familiar older female voice hidden by the crowd. "We must board the train quickly…Quickly please!"

Hermione immediately stood on tiptoe, a hand shading her eyes from the sun, and squinted for the owner of the voice. "That sounds like Professor McGonnagol!"

"It does," replied Harry with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Well let's get then," said Ron, pushing his trolley in front of him, "We won't find out anything by standing here gawping."

Harry nodded in agreement, and the three began making their way towards who they finally realized was indeed Professor McGonnagol.

The older woman was currently waving students on the train and greeting parents as pleasantly as possible while urging them that good-byes needed to be quick, and boarding even quicker.

She made her way from one small group to the other, concern evident on her face, and ushered students towards the open train door with polite leading and a few gentle shoves.

"Professor McGonnagol!" called Hermione with a delighted grin as they approached her. After all, the elder lady was Hermione's favorite teacher.

McGonnagol turned, and a look of relief washed over her features. "Oh, thank Merlin for you three!" she breathed out. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, would you please help me usher the younger years on the train…we should be moving soon."

"Why the rush?" asked a confused Ron, for it was fifteen minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. "And you've never met us at King's Cross before for that matter…Is something wrong? What's going…"

"No, nothing wrong," said a flustered McGonnagol, waving over their heads at a group of giggling girls, "On the train please, ladies!" She turned back to them. "Just better if we're on board, safe and sound. Will you help me? I'll explain when we're on our way. Severus will take your things…"

At that moment, Snape glided up, the ever-present look of haughty disdain still evident on his face. "Weasley, Granger…Potter," he sneered to them. Harry merely lifted his chin in reply. Snape always said his name as if forming the words gave him a bad aftertaste.

The Potions master began loading their trunks onto the train, leaving the trio's animals to ride with them.

Ron couldn't help but notice the look of quiet anger Snape wore at having to be bellhop for all of the students, and snickered as the greasy-haired professor whirled away from them.

"Go please," said McGonnagol, shooing them away to start leading students.

They began to walk away towards the students, but a word from McGonnagol stopped them. "Potter, Granger!"

Harry and Hermione turned and saw McGonnagol toss them two shiny golden badges. They each caught one, and turned wide eyes back up to the professor, particularly Harry.

"Head boy and girl," she called out with a small smile, "The students may be more likely to listen to you with those pinned on. Off with you now!"

Ron turned to look at them with slack-jawed surprise as students bumped and milled past them toward the train. " 'Mione I was sure of, but you?" he turned to Harry. "You're smart mate, but I didn't think you had top marks."

"I don't," said Harry with a frown, "Guess that's another thing we'll have to ask her."

"Let's go then," said Hermione, delight plainly glowing on her face. She'd been sure she would be named as Head girl, but it was still a huge honor nonetheless, and an honor she got to share with Harry.

Boarding the train went much more quickly with the added help, and very soon the trip was under way.

Once on board and with the train moving steadily down the tracks, the air about the small community bound for Hogwarts changed back to one of familiar excitement.

Harry, Ron and Hermione make their way back towards their usual compartment, stumbling a bit as the train lurched lazily, and stopping to chat with friends and fellow schoolmates.

Dean, Seamus, and Neville were inseparable as usual, and greeted Ron and Harry with slaps on the back and a chaste kiss on the cheek for Hermione. The five talked about their final school year for a while before heading back to their seats, and on the way, Harry and Hermione were congratulated over and over as the head badges they wore were noticed.

They came nearer their compartment, which was precariously near where the Slytherin usually sat, and were commenting to each other about how they hoped not to have to run into Malfoy or his oaf companions on the trip, when they were passed rather briskly by a very morose Colin Creevey.

They noticed that he'd changed a bit over the summer. He was taller, less gangly, but was just as thin, even a little too thin for good health. He moved quickly past them, his lips white and pressed into a thin line, his face pale with an unreadable expression, and began to make his way to a compartment.

He opened it cautiously, and finding it to be empty, walked quickly inside and slammed the door.

Ron turned a bewildered look on Harry. "Strange, that was. He didn't even stop to idolize you…That's a first."

"He looked upset," Harry replied with a frown as he, Ron and Hermione entered their compartment and sat down, "Maybe we should go talk to him. I've never seen him like that. And I didn't see Dennis. Wonder where he's gotten too?"

"They usually stick together," said Ron, "That is odd…but then again, everything is starting out ruddy odd this year, isn't it?"

"Quite," replied Hermione, "But I don't think we should go to Colin right now. He didn't seem in the mood to chat. It seemed like he wanted to be alone…We can talk to him later."

She finished the latter part absently as she dug deeply into the small bag she had lugged onto the train with her. She finally produced a thick leather bound book, old and smelling of must and opened it to where she'd apparently stopped earlier. Without a second word to them, she began reading, and was immediately engrossed in it, as was her usual state every year on the way to school.

Harry turned his head sideways to glance curiously at the book's title and hooked a finger over the edge, bringing it down to catch a glimpse of Hermione's face.

"Magical Maladies, love? This wasn't on the school list."

Hermione pressed her lips together and lowered the volume slowly, a slight look of guilt on her face. "I know…Madame Pomfrey gave it to me at the end of last year. She was convinced I'd do well if I decided to study magical medicine. I…I'm not sure yet but…so far I'm really interested."

Ron was currently paying the train's trolley witch for a load of junk food and sat back down with the bundle of snacks, dispersing them between the three.

" 'Mione, you're interested in anything you read," he said sarcastically.

Hermione frowned deeply and opened her mouth to reply but Harry cut in first. "And how is this a problem you nit…"

Ron raised his eyebrows and raised a hand. "No problem mate." He turned to Hermione with a lop-sided grin. "I mean mates. Just observing…"

"Well observe with your mouth shut," said Hermione with a small playful kick to Ron's shin, " Being interested in multiple subjects is a good thing."

"I just meant that it makes it harder for you to decide what you want to do," said Ron, "or become for that matter. And speaking of that," he turned his gaze Harry's way, "I've been meaning to ask you what you're becoming."

Harry looked at him quizzically until a look of comprehension crossed his face. "You mean the extra abilities."

Ron nodded. "Thinking of trying out for the most powerful wizard in the world award yet?"

Harry punched him in the shoulder. "Shut you're gob you prat. It's not as if I've been able to practice over the summer. I'm still only able to levitate one thing at a time…and that's all I can do."

"Wandless," corrected Ron pointedly, "You levitate wandless Harry. I still can't believe it."

Hermione lowered her book. "So you decided to tell him…"

"Of course he did!" said Ron, offended. "Neither of you can keep anything from me for long, it's a proven fact."

Hermione scoffed and smiled, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. "Fact, Ron?"

"Utter fact," said Ron, raising his head slightly. "You're both worthless at secrets. Hell, I can see right through both of you. Fact."

Harry closed his eyes briefly and leaned back against Hermione, one eyebrow raised in a lazy gesture. "Fiction, Weasley. There's a great raging secret I've been keeping from you since the day we met…but now that we're mates for life, I think it's time I told you."

Ron's gaze flew up to Harry's, and seeing the seriousness in his face, he sat up straight in shock. "What're you…wh…If you're lying to me mate, I swear I'll…"

"It's true, Ron. I'm sorry…I…I should've told you sooner."

Hermione looked surprised at this and pushed Harry off of her with a grunt. "Harry! We don't keep secrets from each other…any of us! What is this!?"

Harry pressed his lips together with a pained expression and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced. He gestured Ron forward until Weasley was inches from his face.

"I don't like to keep secrets from you Ron, you're like my brother. So I'll tell it to you straight on…"

Ron's anxiety factor shot up by at least fifty percent and he steeled himself.

Harry sighed. "This might be a shock mate, but…you're a great blazing idiot."

He sat up and blinked hard as if suffering with having to deal such a blow. "Thought you should know."

Ron blinked a few times and sat back against his seat as Harry began to snicker and then laugh even louder, dodging the halfhearted looks of disapproval Hermione was shooting his way. But Ron noticed the smile fighting to work its way onto her face.

"I walked right into that, didn't I…" he said matter-of-factly.

"Not half!" wheezed Harry, guffawing as he slapped back against his seat and clutched his stomach.

Ron shook his head darkly and gazed out the window, muttering to himself. "Ruddy blighter…"

Hermione buried her nose in her book to hide her grin.

************************************

The dullness of silence and the steady rocking and clacking of the train had soon almost lulled all three to sleep.

Harry had switched places with Hermione to allow her to nap back against him and he lay leaned back against the train window with his mouth relaxed open and his arms around her, oblivious to the steady vibration of his head against the glass.

Ron, opposite them, had borrowed the Quidditch book he had given Harry for his birthday, and it now lay forgotten on his lap as his chin bobbed onto his chest. He had been struggling between asleep and awake for an hour now, but the lack of conversation and the steady rhythm of the train had done him in.

Too soon into their nap however the compartment door vibrated with a small rap, and slid open a little loudly.

Ron snapped awake first.

"Sod off, Malfoy!"

Professor McGonnagol favored him with a stern look for a moment and then entered the compartment.

Ron sleepily rubbed his eyes and sat up. "I'm sorry P…Professor…I didn't know it was you."

"Obviously," said McGonnagol with a raised eyebrow, but her look softened as she saw Harry and Hermione asleep, intertwined with each other.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she chased it away. There was business to attend to.

"Mr. Weasley, if you please…"

Ron nodded dully and nudged Harry roughly on the shoulder. "Oy, Harry…Wake up, you. 'Mione, you too."

Harry snapped awake and blinked the fogginess away. "Wh…what…"

Hermione sat up quickly. "P…Professor!" She looked almost mortified to have been caught even leaning against Harry lest McGonnagol find it inappropriate, but the older woman merely settled down next to Ron, folding her hands.

"I'm sorry to disturb you three but I wanted to talk to you before we get to Hogwarts…The Headmaster sent Professor Snape and I to be with the students on the way to school this year."

Harry rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Dumbledore? Why?"

Minerva looked almost frightened, but composed herself immediately. "I assume you heard about the incident in Diagon Alley yesterday; the dark mark."

Hermione stiffened. "We were there."

McGonnagol shut her eyes for a moment and nodded. "I figured as much. Albus thought it best to send a couple of professors to hurry the students along, and to make sure things went…smoothly."

Harry grimaced. "Because of Voldemort's threat."

"We don't yet know what he's capable of," said McGonnagol, betraying her calm exterior by wringing her hands, "Or where he might decide to show himself. Hogwarts is safe, but King's Cross has never been quite as protected. We had to make sure our students made it safely to the school…at least the ones remaining." She added sadly.

"We noticed Professor," said Ron, leaning forward. "There seems to be a lot less enrolled this year. Am I right then?"

"You are," said McGonnagol. "There are quite a few parents this term who decided to keep their children away. It seems the fear at what Voldemort might do is finally affecting our enrollment. The school is still the safest place, but a student had never been taken actually off of school grounds before until last year," she finished quietly, "Until you, Ms. Granger."

Hermione pressed her lips together but faced McGonnagol's soft gaze with a steady one. Harry took her hand and spoke quietly.

"But that can't be the only reason, Professor."

McGonnagol looked pained and started to explain, but stopped herself, and stood. "It's not, Mr. Potter…but I'll leave that for the Headmaster to explain." She nodded to them and began to leave, but stopped at a question from Harry.

"Professor, wait…I…I wanted to ask you about the head boy badge. I know I don't have the highest marks so I have to know…Why me?"

McGonnagol sighed and turned back to gaze steadily back at Harry. "Professor Dumbledore considered more than just marks in choosing the head boy this year Harry, what with all the…evil…that's happened so recently. He wanted someone he knew could stand against the dark lord if needed; someone that had the courage, and the ability to be a true leader if for any reason it was needed… He chose you."

Harry blinked and swallowed thickly, the heavy burden that always followed him slipping its arms around his shoulders and bearing down once more.

McGonnagol's expression softened before she left. "He's a wise wizard Harry. You've said it yourself before…He's rarely wrong."

She gave all of them understanding smiles before leaving them in peace once again.

************************************

The rest of the trip to Hogwarts was uneventful. Ginny came by the compartment for a brief moment to say hello and make her presence known and then scurried off with an excuse. She'd been acting oddly all summer, according to Ron, but he hadn't really given it much thought. He'd always thought Ginny a little odd.

The only other oddity the three noticed was the strange absence of Malfoy. He was most definitely on the train, as they had seen his tall blonde head in his usual compartment while passing, but he hadn't tried to barge in or cause any trouble. The obnoxious Slytherin, trailed by his two large goons had given them grief every year on the train since they'd met, but as of yet hadn't shown his face to them. Not that they were complaining…

Harry smiled. Ever since he was eleven years old, Hogwarts had been the only real home he'd ever known. And even though it was his last year there, it was also his last year with the Dursley's, a thought that never failed to cheer him. He'd already owled Sirius with his plans to get his own flat as soon as he graduated.

Sirius, though thinking he was a bit young, had relented. Anything to get him away from the Dursleys, and Sirius himself still wasn't completely cleared enough from the false murder accusations against him to be able to give Harry a good home. He was constantly on the move, and didn't want Harry to have to be also. Then there was also the matter of how serious Harry seemed to be with his girlfriend. If Harry only knew how often his godfather had thought to himself that it might only be a matter of time before he was given a certain announcement…

Harry pulled Hermione back against him again and she turned sideways this time to lay her cheek on his chest. He hugged her to him and held her, placing a gentle kiss on her hair, thinking simultaneously about how happy he was to have another year at the school.

It was then, as he held her and leaned back again against the train window that a profound thought hit him. Hogwarts wasn't home because of the school; it had never been. Hogwarts was home because Hermione was there. Harry shook his head and closed his eyes, squeezing her tighter, and felt her return the embrace. He finally realized that he wanted Hermione with him always, because there would be nowhere that would ever be home without her. She was everything.

10. Chapter 10: Carriage Rides

Chapter 10: Carriage Rides

The train rumbled and steamed to a stop, and after McGonnagol and Snape checked outside to make sure that everything was safe, the doors were opened and students began piling out.

Hogsmeade station was just as Harry remembered it, though with far less people milling about. Here too, as it had been in Diagon Alley, there seemed to be a feeling of apprehension and general unease. Still, Harry, Hermione and Ron picked out Hagrid's rugged form as he towered above all others, and began to gather the first years to himself. It was nice to know that some things never changed.

"Firs' years o'er here wi' me!" bellowed the half-giant over the noisy crowd, "C'mon now, line up so's I can see you!"

Harry, Hermione and Ron made their ways over to him.

"Hagrid!" Harry called out, smiling fondly at his friend.

The burly man turned to see who called him and his eyes immediately lit up.

"Well 'Arry!" he beamed, "There you are! Certainly have grown tall an' strappin' haven' yeh? Ron you too! I swear if'n yeh grow any taller they'll need ta raise th' roof at 'Ogwarts there!"

Ron blushed to the roots of his red hair and grinned, shuffling his feet a bit. Harry gave him an odd look and punched the air, mouthing "Aw shucks". Ron immediately scowled.

Hermione pushed past them and walked up to Hagrid, giving him a grin and a warm hug. It wasn't easy, considering she couldn't really do anything more than plant her arms spread-eagle along his waist as neither arm could successfully encircle him.

Hagrid wore a smile that could melt winter. He had always held a soft spot for Hermione.

"Well 'allo 'Ermione. Yer as pretty as always, ya are."

Hermione let go and beamed up at him.

"All of yeh, growin' up so fast," Hagrid sniffled a bit, "Can' believe it's yer las' year…It seems only yesterday yeh three were nothin' but little sprogs dancin' aroun' in fron' of me, scared as they come."

"A lot like these, aye?" said Harry, smiling and gesturing to the handful of children either staring open-mouthed up at Hagrid, or glancing nervously about.

"Yeah, yeh were," said Hagrid fondly.

McGonnagol and Snape, who were busy hastening the rest of the students toward carriages, passed them by quickly.

"You lot better get to a carriage," said McGonnagol, "Can't be much visiting around here this year. Save it for school. Hello Hagrid."

Hagrid smiled sadly. " 'Lo Minerva." He turned towards the three with a decidedly less lighthearted expression. "Times do change, don' they?"

Harry glanced about him to the quickly emptying station and the nervous, troubled faces and nodded grimly. "Yeah, they do."

Hermione smiled a little at Hagrid and squeezed his large hand quickly. "I guess we'd better get to a carriage then Hagrid. We'll see you at school."

Hagrid nodded and waved goodbye to them, then proceeding to lead the small group of first years out of the station towards the large dock at the lake where rowboats awaited them.

*****************************************

The carriages were plentiful and roomy considering the fewer number of students, and since there was so many of them, the students were able to choose with whom they would ride.

Ginny caught Draco's eye as if by accident, and then turned calmly away to seek out a carriage that as of yet had no passengers.

She climbed in and sat down, a small, devious smile playing on her lips. So far she had played her cards right and had dealt them with a sly, steady hand. But on the train, she remembered with a sudden scowl, Draco had flustered her. Damn him…

(Memory)

Crabbe and Goyle, as ever, surrounded Draco on both sides, along with the ever-present entourage of girls that followed him around like pathetic groupies.

Ginny rolled her eyes as she began to walk past them. Some things never changed…

As she began to pass, Goyle planted an arm in front of her. She simply raised an eyebrow and looked up at the oaf with indifference.

"Headed somewhere Gryffindork?" growled Goyle dumbly.

Crabbe snickered and Draco turned around quickly, leaving the swarm of girls all trying to find different ways to flirt and touch him sending simultaneous scowls in Ginny's direction.

When his eyes fell on Ginny, a look crossed Malfoy's face that was hard to decipher, but was just as quickly replaced with the familiar haughtiness; never one to be caught off-guard. He lifted his chin in the form of a greeting.

"Ginny."

She turned her eyes to him as if she hadn't noticed his presence until just then and gave him a nonchalant reply. "Oh, hello Draco."

Malfoy noticed. He smiled acerbically at her and gave her a look that was easy to define. One point to you…

She returned the glance. So he'd begun to suspect her game. Oh well, she thought, the only way to win was to keep playing…

Goyle loomed over her and sneered. "I thought I asked you a question."

"You thought?" answered Ginny lazily, "How amazing…I guess there's a first time for everything."

Goyle puzzled over this for a moment, but Crabbe, being only a little quicker, caught the full meaning, and with a harsh scowl balled up a fist and rared it back.

Ginny opened her mouth in shock for a moment, but the blow never connected. Draco caught the fist mid-punch, and now forced it back down to Crabbe's side with a stony look on his face.

"We don't hit girls Crabbe. For god's sake…"

"You heard her!" growled out Crabbe, "Besides, she's a Gryffindor, and a Weasley."

"She's a girl," said Malfoy through gritted teeth. The threatening look he sent them made them both blink and fall back a step. He might not be quite as large as they were, but he damn well could fight when he wanted to, and they knew it.

He turned back to Ginny, and the expression was aloof again.

"What'd you want Weasley…Lost your way? Or maybe you've forgotten that this is the Slytherin part of the train."

"My memory's fine," countered Ginny, taking a step past him.

Draco caught her arm. "Can't stay away from me then?" He put on his best seductive smirk and leaned against the wall, eyeing her with a gaze that clearly meant to challenge.

"Don't flatter yourself," said Ginny, retrieving her arm, "And unless you have a 'ladies' sign hanging about your neck, I'm not here for you. Or maybe you've forgotten that the nearest bathroom is on your end of the train."

If Malfoy had been less restrained, he would've blushed to the roots of his platinum hair. Fortunately for him, he wasn't.

"Nice excuse…good one. I don't buy it though."

She stepped up to him and leaned right into his face with a sarcastic look. "That's a shame. I was trying so hard…"

He wasn't faltering this time, and leaned even closer to her until his breath mingled with her own. "Try harder."

His large gray eyes, cold as ice chips, yet somehow seductive at the same time stared unflinchingly into hers, and it was Ginny's turn to feel unnerved. He'd gotten to her…Damn.

She stumbled back a little. "S…so full of yourself…damn Slytherin…" She whirled back around and made her way quickly down the corridors toward the bathrooms.

Draco folded his arms and lowered his chin, watching her leave with a cool half-smile on his face. He'd won that round…and he knew it.

(End Memory)

Ginny thinned her lips and shook her head darkly to rid herself of the images. Damn Malfoy…but she was definitely going to be the "chasee" and not the "chaser".

She sat back comfortably and crossed legs and arms for the ride to Hogwarts. Well, here she was in this empty carriage. She was giving him the opportunity; now to see if he considered her a motive…

Amid the faint background noises of the neighing, restless horses and the sounds of talking and laughing students, Ginny heard footsteps approaching her carriage. Long easy strides, a confident arrogant march…She smiled. Bait and hook…

"Oy Draco!" called out a deep voice, "Why aren't you riding with us!?"

She heard his robes rustle a little in the breeze as he turned. "You're too crowded Goyle; I need space. What…do you need me to hold your hand too?" he finished scornfully. There was no reply.

The carriage creaked a little as his weight rested on the first step and then he was inside, giving her a prickly look that dared her to say a word.

Ginny favored him with a dispassionate glance. "Well…this is a first."

"Don't flatter yourself, Red. The other carriages are full."

Ginny smiled inwardly. She had seen, just as well as he had that there were less students this year, and what with the hundreds of carriages Hogwarts usually borrowed from Hogsmeade, she knew that there was probably ample space still available. She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled, turning to gaze out of the small window.

He scowled at her and crossed his arms, speaking sharply. "Something on your mind…"

"Why'd you ask?" she said quietly, scanning the green fields on the outskirts of Hogsmeade Station.

"You look like the cat that just ate the sodding canary…" he replied snidely.

She turned back to him and quirked an eyebrow. "You are paying close attention, aren't you?"

"How can I not?" He scoffed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gave her a challenging half-sneer.

Ginny leaned forward as well and met his gaze steadily. "Are you saying you find me interesting?"

"I'm saying I'd rather not find you, but since you ask…I find you friggin' strange. Annoying, really…"

She tilted her head, a sarcastic smirk on her face and drew closer. "So I'm a mystery…"

He leaned a little closer, a false disdain sneering on his lips. "Some might call it that."

They were mere inches from each other now, and Ginny dealt the winning retort. "Wouldn't you just like to solve me…"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, prepared to deliver a cool reply, but at that moment another fiery redheaded person trotted up the steps and stuck his head through the door of the carriage.

"Ginny, you're welcome to ride with…us…" he trailed off sharply as he saw the other passenger.

Ginny tensed as Malfoy leaned back from her to eye Ron with a harsh sneer. "Weasel…"

Ron instantly looked disgusted and furious at the same time. His eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped into the carriage and whipped out his wand.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in here!?"

Ginny stood and put a hand on her brother's arm. "Ron…"

"I can ride wherever and with whomever I damn well please Weasel," scowled Malfoy, whipping out his wand.

"Draco please!" said Ginny, holding out a hand to him.

"Bloody ferret…" snarled Ron moving forward.

Ginny moved in-between them and was immediately sandwiched.

"Ginny move!"

"Get out of the way, Red…"

"That's enough!" she snapped angrily, shoving both boys away from her.

Malfoy continued to scowl with narrowed eyes at Ron, whose attention was back on his sister.

"Ginny, what the…What's wrong with you; are you daft!? Taking up for Malfoy…and riding with him no less…"

Ginny's eyes flashed angrily and she stood to her full height, coming about to Ron's shoulders. "I'm not taking up for anyone and I'm not a child anymore, Ron! I can decide for myself what I do and who I do it with, and I don't need you to defend me! I can take care of myself!"

Draco blinked in surprise at her tone and eyed her with a tinge of respect.

Ron glanced at him and clenched his teeth so hard that the ends of his jaw stood out like walnuts. He'd seen the look.

"I'm riding with you."

"What!?" said Ginny angrily, glaring at him.

Ron didn't reply, but merely plopped down on Ginny's side of the carriage and kept his vicious glare on Malfoy.

Draco, not one to be forced by anyone, sat down opposite them and put away his wand, drolly gazing at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Have it your way, Weasel," he shrugged, crossing arms and legs and settling back nonchalantly. "I don't give a damn what you do."

Ron 'humphed' angrily, and Ginny scowled, crossing her arms and gazing out of the window. This wasn't exactly what she had planned…

********************************

Harry and Hermione stood outside of their carriage, Hermione tapping an impatient foot on the ground.

"What's taking him so long? We're about to leave!"

"I don't know," said Harry, squinting towards Ginny's carriage and shading his eyes, "He was supposed to be right back with Ginny. Maybe he decided to ride with her."

"Everyone on the carriages!" shouted McGonnagol as she prepared to board one herself, "We're leaving!"

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "We'd better find out or he'll be left behind…"

She began to stalk towards Ginny's carriage but Harry's hand on her arm stopped her. "No time for that. Look, the driver's got the reins. He probably is riding with her…"

Hermione frowned and turned back to Harry. "But what if he's out talking or snogging Lavender or something? If we leave without him he'll be in a load of trouble!"

Harry put his arm about her waist and pulled her close to him, staring into her eyes mischievously. " 'Mione…an hour long carriage ride…just you and I…alone."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she began to smile as she caught Harry's meaning. Harry winked at her, and she squeezed him and smiled seductively.

"He's a big lad…he can take care of himself."

"That's right," Harry nodded, taking Hermione's hand and pulling her into the carriage.

When she was inside, she whirled around and shut the door, quickly locking it. Harry reached behind him and pulled the shade of the window down without looking at it.

Hermione grinned and laughed a little as Harry took her hand and yanked her to him. He lowered his head to kiss her, and then swept her hair aside to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

She closed her eyes and shivered, tipping her head up towards the ceiling and let one hand tangle in his hair while the other slid down his back. Heaven…

"What'll we do for a whole hour?" she quipped softly.

Harry mumbled against her neck. "I don't know…We'll think of something…"

Hermione took off his glasses and tossed them onto the seat, and not for the first time marveled at the startling pool of green that was his eyes. So clear and so guileless; they were like windows to his soul; a radiant thing too. She turned his face back to hers and pulled him into a heated kiss, her hands once again tangling in his unruly ebony hair. Harry returned it just as passionately.

He dropped to his knees on the floor, taking Hermione with him, not willing even for a second to interrupt the kiss. He marveled at how each time he shared a kiss with her, the excitement never seemed to diminish. He wanted not only to touch her lips; to feel her soft skin, but also to know her, to devour her soul and make her part of him. She was the best part of being; the one person in his whole life who had taught him that living could be beautiful after all. How could he ever let that go?

The carriages began to move, but neither could bring themselves to care. Being with each other was intoxicating, and left no room for thought about outside things. Harry lowered her to the floor of the carriage and took just a moment to stare into her large brown eyes. Did she really reserve that look of passion just for him?

He smiled at her and leaned down to speak softly into her ear. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Hermione, marveling at how the simple feel of his breath whispered against her ear made her stomach knot with excitement, simply smiled back at him and gave him the only words that were adequate. "I love you. That's enough."

Harry, lying half on top of her, stroked her hair, trailing fingers slowly down her face. His expression though filled with tenderness, slowly turned to one of thoughtful sadness. "I don't know what I'd do without you…You're everything to me; do you know that? At times…at times you've been the only thing that's kept me going. I don't think I'd know how to live if anything ever happened to you…"

Hermione raised a hand to his face and stroked it, noting with a little bit of alarm how he seemed to melt into the touch as if afraid he might lose it. "Harry…what's is it?"

Harry, a look of desperation suddenly on his face, hugged her to him then, his arms tightening around her in an all-consuming embrace; as if he were trying to crush her to him to ward against ever being separated. It seemed to him that if he could just press her close enough, he could somehow become more than he was; stronger somehow; powerful enough to keep her safe from everything.

Hermione pulled back from him, gazing at him in apprehension. Harry wasn't usually one to announce his fears. He seemed somehow to be trying to ward against some awful happening he had divined.

"Harry, tell me…what's wrong?"

Harry swallowed hard and continued touching her face, not sure how to put what he felt into words. He was the one that loved her, and also the one that put her in the most danger. Just by being with her, he provided another target for Voldemort to use against him. He'd already tried it once, just last year, and now that the dark lord knew how much Hermione meant to him, Harry was certain he wouldn't rest until he'd somehow taken her from him, and he'd had enough taken from him to last two lifetimes. Harry swallowed down the bitter anger that settled like a cold lump in his stomach. He couldn't and wouldn't allow that to happen…even if it meant his own life. She was too precious.

"Harry…you're scaring me…"

Instantly, Harry tuned back in to her, placing a hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you…I just…I...When everything else is dark…you…you're my light 'Mione. I don't want anything to happen to you because of me…because of who I am."

Hermione regarded him tenderly, and placed her hands on either side of his face, gazing into clear eyes that seemed deeper than the sea at that moment. "Harry…"

She breathed his name, and like a sudden calm, things were better, peaceful; more lovely. He marveled at how she could lighten him with the simple sound of her voice.

"There are no guarantees in life, " she continued softly, "except one. No matter who you are to the rest of the world, you're Harry to me. My Harry…and I'm with you because I love you."

Harry smiled at her and bent to kiss her again, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Mione? Wha…"

"And if you ever think of trying to push me away from you to protect me…I'll hex you to within an inch of your life."

Harry regarded her thoughtfully for a moment with the slightest tinge of sadness, and decided not to answer that. He couldn't promise her anything of the sort.

"You know I bloody love it when you get all fierce with me…" He gave her a cute lopsided smirk that served to mollify her a bit, but she wasn't fooled. She knew a change of subject when it was handed to her…however adorable the package.

"Harry, I mean it…"

He shook his head, put a finger to her lips, and then favored her with the most achingly tender kiss she had ever received. After some time, he bent low to her ear and whispered softly.

"I love you Hermione."

That was it. As she looked up into his brilliant green eyes and saw them go dark with desire, Hermione realized that no more words were going to be exchanged on this particular trip.

Harry shook his head slightly as he gazed down on her beneath him; her long wavy hair fanned around her, her soft brown eyes flecked with gold, invitingly full lips…Desire slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms about her, kissing her with such a fiery intensity; so thoroughly and completely that it left her faint. Great Merlin Harry…

Hermione's breath hitched over and over as they moved over each other, exploring...touching…craving the other's kiss. What was this feeling…almost like spontaneous combustion? It was too dizzying to think; for both of them. It was almost desperate…extreme…intoxicating…startling in its intensity…

Temporary insanity, thought Harry as an electric shock moved up his spine from Hermione's touch, but sod it all if they wouldn't surrender to it…

The carriage kept moving, and they kept being oblivious to its jostling. The trip to Hogwarts was short enough; why not linger in a stolen moment?

11. Chapter 11: A Tragedy Revealed

Chapter 11: A Tragedy Revealed

In the near distance, Hogwarts loomed above its students like a huge, medieval castle, cold and intimidating from the outside, but warm and inviting within.

Most of the students, with faces peering expectantly out of the windows or calling out in fun to one another, were thrilled to be returning, and only a few had the beginning of the school year humdrums. Fewer still cared not one way or the other, as did Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, who was too busy sulking to notice. And only one pair had no thoughts about it one way or the other. They were too busy noticing each other to be bothered by anything else.

Hermione, in a daze at the moment, barely felt a small jolt as the carriages rolled to a stop, and once again heard the voices of her fellow students slamming open doors and moving in groups toward the castle.

"H…Harry…"

Potter, at the moment, was too busy tasting the skin between her neck and shoulder to notice any change and murmured against her.

"Mmm…?"

Even the vibration of his husky voice against her shoulder was erotic. Hermione shivered.

"Harry…we're here."

"Mmm, what…"

"We're at Hogwarts…" she breathed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Harry fell back from Hermione in surprise and caught her "deer in the headlights" look.

"Are there students in here?" called McGonnagol's distinct voice, "In case you've missed it, we have reached our destination."

"Oh Merlin…" breathed Harry.

Immediately they shot up from the floor of the carriage and began tidying themselves. Harry's button up white shirt was open and his hair was even more untidy than usual. As for Hermione, her hair was in complete disarray, and her clothes were rumpled and turned oddly.

"Hello…" called the impatient voice.

Harry unlocked the door and threw it open. "Sorry professor, we…fell asleep…"

McGonnagol frowned sternly at them as they stepped sheepishly down the steps and followed their retreating forms with narrowed eyes. Flushed faces and swollen lips were a little harder to conceal…

***************************************

The Great Hall was full once again, the ceiling bewitched to resemble the starry sky outside at dusk, floating candles cheerily flickering, and every students plate set before them, waiting for the feast to begin.

"Oh glory!" beamed Nearly Headless Nick as he floated above the Gryffindor's table and mentally took head count, "Students and cheer again! The castle is just to quiet without you!"

"Thanks Sir Nicholas!" grinned Dean Thomas, giving him a cheeky wink.

"Less students though," said Seamus, giving Neville an elbow in the ribs, "We're well low this year…"

As Neville gazed about him, he realized how evident it was that the student population had shrunken. Each table, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff seemed to have at least a fourth less students, and as it became evident from the conversations around him, not everyone understood why.

Harry and Hermione found Ron seated with Lavender on one side, and a quiet sad-faced Colin Creevey on the other and decided to join them in the seats closer to the front.

"Where've you two been then?" said Ron, "The first years are almost here…"

"Nevermind that," said Harry quickly.

Ron frowned suspiciously.

The sorting ceremony went quicker than ever before, the hat only having fifteen students to sort this year.

As soon as it was over, a graver than usual Dumbledore stood to give his beginning of the term speech. As the Great Hall hushed, he favored them with a wan smile.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts students. Although I'm sure most of you can tell that attendance is a bit lower than usual, I'm sure we will have a just as exciting, happy, and academically fulfilling school term. Prefects were notified in your school letters. Head boy and Girl this year are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

Applause, mostly from Gryffindor followed. Hermione beamed accordingly and Harry slumped down in his seat a bit. He knew he hadn't received the honor based on marks, and worried a little at how the school might take it.

"We will be having a Yule Ball this year, so you may want to plan accordingly for the holidays as it will fall close to Christmas. And now a few start of the term notices…As always, and let me make this absolutely crystal clear, the Forbidden Forest and beyond is strictly prohibited. As I am sure by now you've heard about the animal disappearances, I trust this will not be a problem…"

A small amount of distressed murmuring began, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "Please, if I may continue…There is no need for panic. The school grounds, as always, have been safeguarded; even more so owing to last years…mishap…"

Hermione was eternally grateful for the professor's discretion. He continued.

"A small change in our usual class routine…This year we will be offering an Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class…"

Immediately, there was louder and more excited murmuring.

"Please…please…" Dumbledore patted the air with both hands, "Of course Monsieur DeVoncrey of Beaubaxtons will continue to teach our regular class, but we have the return of another professor to thank for our new class that I'm sure many of you will enjoy…Remus, please."

Out of the doorway to the left side of the teacher's table, Remus Lupin stepped out with a look of slight unease about him. He looked noticeably more healthy than when they had last seen him, but was still dressed in shabby robes.

There were three duly noted reactions. Most students began cheering wildly, some gasped in fear, having never gotten over the fact that he was a werewolf, and some merely scowled or chose not to react at all. These were mostly Slytherins, and many of the more severe scowls came from Draco Malfoy and those seated near him.

Lupin nodded humbly and seated himself next to Snape, who immediately shot him a look of loathing.

"Lupin!" stated Ron slack-jawed, "I can't believe it!"

"Oh I'm so excited!" squealed Hermione.

"He's the best we've had," said Harry with a grin, "Maybe the parents are finally realizing we need someone like him."

Dumbledore continued. "The advanced class will be open only to those for whom it is chosen, and the heads of your houses will make that decision. It will be a small class, and intensely difficult, but I'm sure there are those here who will excel."

Harry could've sworn at that moment that Dumbledore had given him a glance over his half-moon glasses. Ron noticed as well and gave him an odd look, but Hermione, across from Colin, was too preoccupied to notice. She had never seen eyes so sad.

"Colin?" She reached across the table and laid a hand on the younger boy's arm.

Creevey jumped, startled, and looked up from the table to see Hermione giving him a caring, searching look.

"Sorry," she smiled, "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you…are you all right? You seem so down…"

"I'm fine," said Colin in a small voice. He seemed then to sink down into himself, shifting his thin shoulders upward as if to hide more of his frame.

"Are you sure?" said Hermione gently, "You know…we've known each other for a long while now. If you need to talk…"

"I don't," cut off Colin, though not harshly. "Thanks Hermione, but I'll be fine."

At that moment, Hermione suddenly tuned back in to Dumbledore's speech, because he began speaking about something she hadn't thought or imagined to hear…

"…and I would like to extend my deepest condolences to the Creevey family. Dennis's absence will be felt by all, especially his housemates. But the search will continue. Not all hope is lost."

Hermione's hand jumped from Colin's arm as if it were hot to the touch. Harry and Ron, along with other Gryffindors seated nearby immediately shifted shocked gazes his way.

Colin lowered his head, eyes closing briefly against the words spoken, and suddenly got up and approached the professor's table. With a few words to McGonnagol, she was up in an instant, and with an arm across his shoulders, began steering the boy towards a side exit.

Hermione swallowed a thick lump in her throat and turned towards Harry and Ron. "Oh Colin…"

The mood in the Great Hall was a bit more somber as Dumbledore closed his speech with the perfunctory do's and don'ts. At the end, he clapped his hands and hundreds of dishes were filled with the most delicious, aromatic foods the house elves could conjure.

Hermione and Harry, along with those closer to Colin, selected very few things. Even Ron, known as the "Hoover" among Gryffindors ate very little.

After dinner, prefects began leading the students to their dorms, and Ron surprised Harry and Hermione with the news that he had been selected as one.

"Ron that's great!" gushed Hermione, but Harry frowned at him.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier!?"

"Well I was going to surprise you and tell you at King's Cross but McGonnagol tossed you and 'Mione your Head badges. Sort of took the wind from my sails you know…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh don't be ridiculous! Being made prefect is a great honor!"

"So you say," said Ron as he began to move away from them towards the younger students.

"It is you mong," said Harry.

"Whatever," called out Ron from a small distance down the halls. "First years follow me! Hurry up now!" The children began jogging to catch up with him.

Harry swung around suddenly with a fake surprised look on his face. " 'Mione, I just heard Percy! Is he back!?"

Ron stopped in his tracks and turned, causing two first years to bump into one another to stop from crashing into him.

"Oh you great sodding prick. You're dead for that one…"

Harry barked out a laugh and Ron whirled back around suddenly, jerking a hand for the kids to follow him.

Hermione covered her smile expertly and spoke to Harry after Ron had gone around the corner. "Harry, how could you? You know how Ron despises anything Percyish…"

"Oh he'll get over it. C'mon, let's go see our rooms. I've always wondered how the other half lives."

He grabbed Hermione's hand and she smiled at him as he led her down the hallway.

At the portrait door, where a sign hung above clearly said "Head Boy and Girl", they faced the portrait in confusion.

"Where's the figure?" said Hermione, "I don’t see anyone, do you?"

They both began peering at the scene of rolling green hills and distant castles.

Harry replied quietly. "This looks oddly familiar…"

Suddenly a tiny figure, clad in armor and riding into the picture backwards on a poorly shod pony, yelled in a tiny besotted voice that startled both of them. He yanked out a small sword and brandished it wobbily at Harry.

"What ho! *hic* Shtop there you knave! What bithness have you on my private lands!? *hic* Take up thy sword!"

"Oh no…" Hermione groaned.

Harry frowned. "What the…"

"What shayest thou villian!? Shpeak or I shall have the orcs slaughter thee!" The tiny knight then fell ungracefully from his pony to land with a loud clang on the ground. "Methinks it hash become quite dark…" *hic* He frowned beneath his helmet and gazed darkly around him. "How hast the darkness sho shuddenly fallen?"

Harry sighed. "Lift your visor, Sir Cadogen…"

Cadogen picked himself up from the ground and stumbled a bit trying to regain his composure. He lifted his visor slowly at first, and then threw it up in amazement, throwing his tiny arms wide.

"By Merlin…I shee!" He stumbled and fell in a heap of armor, but stood quickly once again. "Who is the brave knight that hath lighted my path once again!?"

"Harry Potter…"

"Parry Hotter! A brave and noble lad *hic* shtout of heart and pure in deed…"

Hermione looked incensed. "Sir Cadogen, are you drunk!?"

"Of course he is…he's completely aled up…"

"Drunk!?" squealed the tiny knight. He was hopping mad and brandished his sword once again. "Have at thee!" He waved the tiny sword in front of him and managed to clang himself on top of his helmet with it. "A lady not withshtanding! *hic* And you! Cad! Cur! Shcurvy rogue! I am a knight of King Arthur! Shecond in command of the round table, p…pershonal friend to Lancelot…"

"Ok, ok," said Harry with a sigh, "These are our rooms good sir…Prithy, wilt thou open for us?"

Cadogen's red eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Pashword?"

"Oh Merlin," said Harry, slapping his forehead in frustration, "I forgot…"

"Dragon's lair," said Hermione with a knowing look, "Harry, you're hopeless."

"I know…"

"A dragon to shlay you say! A noble quest! I must off to defend the kingdom. I bid you good day young ones! *hic* We shall meet again shome fine hour…" Cadogen mounted his pony backwards and galloped lopsidedly out of the picture with his visor clanging up and down. The portrait swung open.

"Completely mental…" said Harry.

They stepped inside and Hermione gasped at the sight. The common room was very small, but comfortably homey. Two completely full bookshelves hugged the dark wood walls, with large intricate red and gold cloth banners bearing the Gryffindor crest on either side. A warm roaring fire was already set in the hearth, and one couch, surrounded on either side by plush easy chairs sat invitingly near. A large desk was placed near the back of the room nearer Hermione's door and held an antique looking candelabra, quills, and extra rolls of parchment.

Harry stood near Hermione with a grin and squeezed her shoulders.

"Walls of books, love…Your own personal heaven."

"It's wonderful," said Hermione breathlessly.

She moved towards a bedroom and opened the door, guessing correctly that it was hers. Her trunk sat at the edge of the canopy bed that was covered in a deep lush red quilt. Crookshanks leapt off of it and ran out into the common room. Hermione could have sworn he gave her a scowl for having kept him waiting. Portraits of previous head girls hung on the wall, along with her own at the end. She smiled, but was relieved to find that the pictures were taken in the ordinary Muggle way. Having twenty or so pairs of eyes watching you at night would be a bit disconcerting…

Harry opened his door and scanned his room as well. It was a lush deep golden color, with a large bed to match; fancy, but not unmasculine. The walls held portraits of head boys past, and his picture, obviously taken by Colin, as he was in his Quidditch uniform, was at the end. Colin, thought Harry. He made a mental note to check on him as soon as possible. How could Dennis have gone missing? It had obviously happened over the summer, though Harry couldn't imagine why there hadn't been an article in the Daily Prophet about it. And where and how had it happened? He didn't want to press Colin when he was so distraught, but what if Voldemort was involved? Still, Harry couldn't imagine what the dark lord would want with Dennis. Well, he thought to himself, I'll find out soon enough.

He clicked the door to his room shut and turned to see Hermione through her bedroom door happily unpacking her trunk. He smiled then, a genuinely happy grin. It was like a small home; cozy and warm, and even more so because he got to share it with her. Heaven indeed…

(A/N): I just want to thank all of the reviewers who took the time to review! Thanks so much! It means a lot. :0) I promise the thick plot is coming, with a few unexpected surprises. Also I totally forgot the disclaimer at the beginning of my story. I own nothing of the HP world but my storyline. I'm just taking the characters out to play, and I'll put 'em back when I'm through! *cheesy grin*

12. Chapter 12: The Divining

Chapter 12: The Divining

The next few days were spent trying to adjust to their new class schedules. As usual, Hermione had signed up for more than she could handle and was almost in tears trying to decide what not to keep.

Divination of course, had not even been a consideration in the first place, Arithmancy was a must, and the new medical training course she had been offered by Madame Pomfrey was her most exciting. The choice had to be between Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes.

"Too bad we can't drop 'History of Magic,' " sighed Ron as the three walked down the hallway to their next classes, "Binns bores me rigid the way he drones on…Can a bloke die from lack of stimulation?"

Hermione swatted him on the arm. "Shut up Ron. Without our history where would we be? Professor Binns may be a little boring but 'History of Magic' is a very important class."

" A little boring 'Mione?" quoted Harry incredulously, "The man doesn't know the meaning of the word 'inflection'."

Hermione shot him a stern look. "Yes well, anyway…I'm thinking of asking Professor McGonnagol if I can use the time turner again."

" 'Mione are you crazy!?" said Ron suddenly, faltering in his steps.

Harry spoke up. "Love, don't you remember how nutty you were in third year having to use that thing? Are you sure you want that again?"

"Of course not Potter but what else can I do!? All of my classes are important!"

Ron winced as he and Harry stopped in front of Hermione's Arithmancy class to drop her off. She had taken to calling Harry 'Potter' when she was annoyed at him, and Ron, being the person he was, rather enjoyed it.

"Uh oh, last names…You're in for it," he smiled at Harry, who gave him a return scowl.

"You too Weasley!" Hermione poked him in the arm and Ron's face fell. "I am not crazy!"

Harry grinned disarmingly and pinched her cheek affectionately. "Of course not, love. Go on now…We'll see you next class."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as if trying to decide whether or not to stay annoyed, but the puppy dog looks she was receiving from both made it hard to do so.

She gave Harry a quick peck and Ron a pinch on the cheek, sighed, and walked into class.

"That's my swotty girl," Harry called after her.

Hermione whirled around. "What!?"

"I love you," Harry grinned.

He and Ron snickered at each other and headed towards Trelawny's Divination class.

*******************************

As always, the classroom was muggy and warm, and filled with a type of incense that was so heavily perfumed it made Harry want to gag. The fire in the hearth glowed an unusual light pink, and threw the whole darkened room into an eerie pastel color. The round tables held four chairs each, with a single candle in the middle lit with the same pastel fire. Any lamps in the room had been covered with light red veils to add to the overall mystical feel.

Harry and Ron chose a table by the window and cracked it open to let in some fresh air. Suffocation had never helped anyone's grades…

Trelawny, in her trademark worn shawl, dress of scarves, thick-lensed glasses and over abundance of bangles stood in front of the class. Her eyes were closed tightly and her hands were clasped before her in an almost prayer-like stance.

The class stared at her in silence for a while until finally, with an over-emphasized shudder, her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes rolled back down to gaze at them.

"Ah! I sensed that you were all finally here. The fates have never led me wrong…"

"She needed second sight for that?" whispered Ron.

Harry snickered, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Divination was among his least favorite classes.

Trelawny sighed in ecstasy. Here was another year filled with students; eager ones hopeful to be in possession of the "inner eye". Her eyes fell on Lavender Brown, who was currently gazing at the Weasley boy, and her seatmate, Parvarti Patil, who seemed to be staring longingly at Potter. Now here were two qualified candidates…staring at a table filled with two who were not so much. Hmmm…

Harry sighed as Trelawny began the class, and continued to sigh as she droned on about the "inner eye" and those fortunate enough to possess it. He never had, and never would believe in any of this. Up until now, all Divination had done for Harry was subject him to a series of embarrassing moments involving Trelawny favoring him with looks of pity and tremulous sighs, while moaning to the whole class about how short his life was going to be, and how full of misery. Never once had any of her predictions come true, save for the one time she had seemed to fall into a true trance and told of the forecoming of certain events involving Voldemort. But even those had been vague. No, he would put no stakes in any of this as long as he had sense enough to know falseness when it stared him in the "eye".

The professor had finally done with her beginning of the school term speech, and decided to wow the class with her new toys. She stood importantly before them, with hands clasped tightly before her and her eyes even bigger than usual. To Harry, she had never resembled an owl so much in her entire teaching life.

"Students, today we will be learning a new art; one that has been aiding witches and wizards in divination for thousands of years." She gestured to the bundle of something on her desk concealed by a large purple cloth covered in a pattern of moons and paused importantly to let the full meaning of what she had just said hit the class. Lavender and Parvarti squirmed in their seats with excitement

"Ah, I see my two gifted students have had a premonition of things to come! Be calmed young ones, and soon all will be revealed."

Ron, with his mouth open in disbelief, rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat. "What a load of bunk! Gifted!? She can't be serious…" He said it a little too loudly, and Parvarti, Lavender and Trelawny all gave him murderous looks before the professor continued.

"As I was saying…Libanomancy is the art of divination through incense…"

"More incense," groaned Harry quietly, "I think I'm gonna live in nausea…"

"…We read the signs in the flares, pops and crackling sounds as the incense burns, and also in the shapes formed from the rising smoke." At this, she flipped off the purple cloth dramatically, leaving the students to stare in wonder at an assortment of jars filled with different herb-like substances. She continued.

"We have coriander, jasmine, hemp, fennel, salt peter, and so forth. These types of incense help when asking questions of the oracle sensor. We will burn our incense, and ask our questions aloud, listening for the answer from the ensuing popping of the seeds or the smoke from the powder. For example, a singular pop indicates a 'yes' answer, and a double pop indicates a 'no'. We will also watch the direction in which the smoke wafts. When drifting towards you it is a positive omen, and away it is a sign of evil to come…"

Harry listened to her speech with an impending sense of doom and let his head fall back onto the window. Professor, I've had a premonition that somehow the fates are going to assault me with backward moving smoke and a series of death symbols that I'm sure you'll pick up on…Merlin help me please…

Trelawny, oblivious to most of the students groanings as usual, began to disperse small vials filled with the herbs and small metal bucket-like devices perched on tall stands, stopping to give Harry a particularly sad, forced smile when handing him his. Harry chewed hard on his bottom lip to keep from saying anything to her and took the vials wordlessly, shooting Ron a murderous look when he began to snicker.

The professor moved back to the front of the class and spoke to the students once more. "Now, we will each take turns choosing one from our tables to be the seer. We will start with the hemp seed. You will place a small pinch in your burner, slide it to rest over a candle, and read accordingly. Ms. Brown and Ms. Patil, you will start. Pay attention please…"

The two girls had both decided that Parvarti should lead, and she moved in her seat with barely controlled excitement.

Trelawny smiled favoringly at the girl. "Now, what question would you like to ask?"

Parvarti answered in a breathy, awed voice. "Well, I…I'd like to know if I'll ever be married."

Most of the boys and even some of the girls groaned as if they had known her question was going to be that trivial, but both Parvarti and Trelawny shot them harsh looks that silenced them. The professor smiled at her.

"Go ahead dear."

When Parvarti had readied the seed, she and the rest of the class watched and listened raptly as the seeds began to crackle.

"I heard it!" shouted Parvarti in glee, "I heard one loud crack first! That's a yes, isn't it!?" Lavender clapped her hands and squealed with delight.

Trelawny nodded and smiled. "It seems you have your answer."

This elicited more squeals of delight from the girls, and even some others that had joined them, and more groans from some of their other classmates. Harry's harsh sigh was among one of the loudest. This had to be hands down one of the biggest wastes of time he had yet encountered in Divination.

"This ranks right up there with the magic eight ball…"

Ron frowned. "Magic eight ball…what's that mate?"

"A Muggle thing," Harry replied flatly, "Never mind."

The rest of the class passed just as worthlessly for them until it was finally their turn. Harry and Ron had been bickering steadily over who was going to have to bear the idiocy, and Ron had finally won. Harry gave a final great sigh and steadied himself. There was no use in whinging about it now…

Trelawny approached their table with a wizened look on her face. "Who has been chosen?"

Ron smiled and pointed at Harry. "He has."

The professor nodded briefly. "Very well Mr. Potter. Have you a question in mind?"

Sure. Why the bloody hell do I have to be subjected to this load of crap every day… "Um…yeah. Will Gryffindor win the house cup this year?"

The rest of the students seemed to think it was a right enough question to ask and paid attention as Harry pinched up the hemp and slid the small burner over the candle. Immediately the seeds all began to pop at once, and Harry looked slightly puzzled. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to decipher that?

He stifled the urge to sneer and looked up at Trelawny. "I'm not quite sure how to read that…"

"It means the outcome is unclear," said Trelawny in a long suffering voice, "Mr. Potter, didn't you read the assignment on translating Divination techniques that I gave over the summer? If you had you would have known the answer…"

Harry could have told her that his Uncle Vernon would have ruptured an artery had he caught his nephew studying anything even remotely "not normal" in his house, but decided that it wasn't worth it. "Sorry professor, I guess I didn't get around to it."

Trelawny frowned hugely. "Mr. Potter," Uh oh here it comes…thought Harry, "I know you and Mr. Weasley don't put too much stock in my class but the least you can do is finish the assignments I give you…"

But Trelawny never finished her scolding because she had chosen then to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. It was at that moment, upon reflection, that Harry would later swear his life literally changed.

The professor suddenly went rigid, her face frozen into a look somewhere between shock and blankness. Students began to cry out, but all were too frozen with fear to move. The grip on Harry's shoulder was painful and tight, causing him to look up at her in alarm. Her normally pale blue eyes were glazed over with a thick white film, leaving the irises almost completely invisible.

The air in the room suddenly felt alive and crackled with electricity, and a wind began blowing that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Although each student could feel it, curiously, not a thing in the room moved. All papers lay still on their desks, robes and hair stayed perfectly still, even the flames from the fire and the candles continued to burn straight.

When she spoke, the voice that came from the professor was deeper and more resonant than her own, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Even in fourth year when she had made the real prediction about Voldemort she hadn't looked this supernatural.

"The dark one is coming…He is building an army that the forces of light will scarce be able to stand against lest the prophecy be fulfilled. Too many have already died…too many innocents have already been sacrificed for his own evil means…

The prophecy…the triangle must come together…the circle must be made whole…he must understand and take responsibility for that which he was meant to do; that which he was born to perform. He must learn...He must train…Only the covenant of the triangle will stop the evil ones. Only the joining of the circle will make him strong enough…He must be ready…Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo…They must all be ready…Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo…"

As abruptly as the "attack" had begun, it ended, and in a whoosh of sudden calm, the wind stopped, the electrical crackle disappeared, and Trelawny released her grip on Harry's shoulder as if she'd just grabbed it briefly to make a point.

"…and so Mr. Potter, I hope you will pay more attention to your studies from now on."

Harry blinked rapidly at her for a moment, and looked wide-eyed over to Ron to see that his mouth had dropped open and a look of utter disturb lay plainly on his face. The rest of the class seemed to follow suit.

"Mr. Potter, did you hear me?" Trelawny scanned the class uneasily. "What's the matter with all of you?"

Harry shook his head and cleared his throat rather loudly. "N…nothing Professor…I think we're through here…"

Trelawny turned to look at the bewitched clock on her wall. The hour hand was indeed pointing to "class over".

"Oh very well then," she sighed as the students slowly began rising and moving towards the exit, "Just please remember what we've learned here today."

Seamus Finnegan gave Harry an odd look as he passed. "How could we forget…"

************************************

Harry and Ron met up with Hermione on their way to Potions and told her about the bizarre prediction.

Hermione smoothed her hands along her arms in an attempt to chase away the goosebumps and spoke breathily. "Wh…what do you suppose it means?"

"We were sort of hoping you would know," said Ron, still feeling a bit spooked. The hairs on the back of his neck had still not calmed down properly.

"Have you heard of a prophecy like that before?" asked Harry.

"Never…Although to be honest I haven't read many books on prophecy…I never put much stock in them; too much like divination."

"I agree," said Harry, putting an arm about her waist, "Still…You should've seen the look on her face. I think she actually made a real prediction there."

"Well whatever it was I'd rather bloody not think on it," said Ron with a shudder, "I knew there was a reason I hated that class, besides the obvious. Professor Trelawny quite simply creeps me out."

In Potions class, not only did the three have to put up with Snape's usual pompous contempt for them, but they also had to field the looks of awe the students that had just come from Trelawny's class were giving Harry.

Snape, who at the moment was busy humiliating Neville for adding too much karapon root to his Transposition potion, finally turned to address the class.

"All right! Just what is going on in here." Snape was the only teacher who could speak with a soft voice that carried such a sting. "Potter, our ever-present celebrity," he sneered magnificently at Harry, "Tell me…what is all the whispering about now? Have you single-handedly brought down the entire population of the dark world or is it something pathetically overprized as usual?"

The Slytherin, in particular Draco Malfoy began snickering wildly, and Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously. Hermione noticed the look and immediately laid a restraining hand on his arm. Provoking Snape further would do no one any good…

Harry looked around to the students and addressed them. "Look…It had nothing to do with me, alright? Just because she was touching me when she had her 'vision' doesn't mean it had anything to do with me."

Most of the students stayed quiet, but Dean Thomas spoke up. "I guess we'll find out won't we?"

Harry sighed and threw back his head in defeat, speaking sardonically. "Yeah, I guess we will."

"I wasn't giving you permission to give a speech Potter," snarled Snape as he moved to the front of the classroom, "Ten points from Gryffindor. As for the rest of you, you can continue your Potter worship elsewhere. I will not tolerate such bilge in my class."

Ron seethed angrily but Harry laid a hand on his arm and shook his head. He didn't give a rat's ass what Snape thought of him; he just wanted to get through the class, head to lunch, and forget about the whole thing. Like Dumbledore always said, 'whatever was going to happen would happen'. There was no sense in worrying about something they had no answer for…yet.

13. Chapter 13: Dark Plans

Chapter 13: Dark Plans

The dark cloaked figure apparated with a decided *pop* and found himself in a small clearing in the middle of the dark forest of Kavan. It was just nearing dusk. The sky was a dusty gray-purple, and the moon and the stars had yet to shine to their full potential owing to the wash of the sun's last orange rays, but somehow being in these woods made everything much darker. Knarled dead trees, the forest floor thick with shriveled dried plants…the only sound he heard as he approached the shack in the clearing was the crunch of long dead leaves underfoot. He had offered for the dark lord to share his home, after all, didn't the future ruler of the entire wizarding world deserve more opulent surroundings? But Voldemort had refused, and had reminded him about the final battle needing to be conducted here. A battle had waged at this very sight last year…a fight between he and Potter that the dark lord seemed to seethe with distinct bitterness about. It was no secret that Voldemort hated Potter, and although he had not explained the particulars of the fight to the death eater, one thing was for certain…his body had been taken from him again.

The death eater shuddered as he approached the grayed, weathered wooden door. It wasn't cold out tonight; Mother Nature had decided to favor Scotland with a mild autumn evening. And yet, a ruby, flickering glow from the lone window gave away the presence of another fire lit in the hearth. Voldemort was always cold these days. The spell Potter had cast had not only robbed the dark lord of his body, but it had begun to slowly take his strength as well. But, no matter…thought the death eater with a slightly nervous sigh, it would all be returned, and much more…soon enough.

He raised a fist to rap on the door, but had no sooner lifted it when a harsh voice sounded from inside.

"Enter."

How was it that he was one of the most respected members of the board of the Ministry, one of the richest, most powerful men in his city, dreaded by his servants and even his own family, and yet, one word from the weakened dark lord could make his knees tremble with fear?

The servant entered the humble shack with his head high and pushed his hood down, revealing long silvery hair and a rehearsed dignity. He might feel slightly off at having to face his master as most of Voldemort's servants usually did, but he had always been the most adept at hiding it. Malfoy's were notorious if not for anything else, for their supremely cool demeanors.

Lucius stepped around the ratty chair to face his master. "My lord."

Voldemort raised his transparent head. The dark cloak wrapped around him almost seemed too heavy for his frail 'spirit'? Lucius wasn't sure what to call what he had become. Calling it a half-life seemed oddly fitting. He wasn't alive, and yet, he wasn't dead. But though his 'spirit' seemed weak, his eyes glittered with the blood red they always had, and his grim mouth was still set in the same ruthless lines. Lucius wasn't fooled. The dark lord had shown his capability too many times to be taken lightly. That was why he served him…darkness, in Malfoy's eyes, equaled power.

"Give it to me," Voldemort's high-pitched, gravelly voice demanded.

Malfoy extended the pale in front of him and the dark lord grabbed it greedily, tipping its contents immediately into his mouth. Despite himself, Lucius looked away, sneering on the inside with the typical Malfoy disdain. When he was done, the dark lord's mouth shone with silver drippings.

Voldemort placed the pale onto the floor and licked the last remains of unicorn blood from his lips.

"How I loathe having to drink that," he said to no one in particular.

"Soon enough, my lord. Soon enough…" said Lucius as he sat formally in the only other chair in the cabin.

Voldemort sat up straighter and gave his servant a piercingly direct glance. "Yes. It will be."

Despite himself, Lucius once again felt himself tremble. But though he felt it, his body didn't betray it. His cool blue eyes, half-lidded with composure and his straight haughty posture never faltered as he replied with only a humble nod.

"Did you bring it…" began Voldemort.

"I haven't yet had the chance to visit the school my lord," replied Lucius in his trademark refined drawl, "I'm waiting for the ministry to have official business there so as not to attract attention to myself."

"You have a son at the school," replied Voldemort with annoyance, "What other business do you need…"

Malfoy shifted in his seat. "Parents don't normally frequent the school without express invitation, my lord. The few times I've visited, Dumbledore has kept a close watch on my comings and goings. He's never trusted me, which makes this extremely difficult…"

"I'm sure you'll find your way around that, won't you Lucius?" said the dark lord with distinct warning in his voice. "Besides, as you can see, this is becoming quite an eyesore."

Voldemort gestured to the large lump lying half-covered by a cloak in a dark corner of the cabin, and Lucius swallowed thickly, closing his eyes to keep from inadvertently shifting them in that direction. Nausea turned his stomach with a sharp stab, and his indifference slipped away briefly. After all, the boy had lain there dead for more than three months. Had it not been for the charm that he had cast to keep away insects and cover the odor of decay, the stench would have been unbearable.

Lucius forced himself to draw another breath. He'd never quite understood why the dark lord had taken the Creevey boy. "H…how long must he lie there, my lord?"

Voldemort turned a piercing glare Malfoy's way. "I've explained this to you, Lucius. I have plans for the body…or rather I did have plans. In a sense, they were accomplished long ago, were they not? I never needed this specific boy, he just happened to be at the right place at the proverbial right time. And he fits the description…" At a quick alarmed glance from Lucius, Voldemort managed a chuckle. "Yes Lucius. Even now I sense what you're thinking. You must get it."

"My lord, it's not so simple…It's such a dangerous and potentially harmful artifact that it's kept locked in the most private of places. Dumbledore's office has so many hidden alcoves and drawers that I fear it may be impossible to find it…"

Although the voice was coarse and high pitched as usual, Voldemort spoke with the smoothest and yet most dangerous of tones. "Now Lucius. You'd be surprised at what plans the mind can devise when the need arises…And I assure you. That need has most definitely arisen. Am I understood?"

Small hairs stood erect on the back of his neck, and Lucius nodded, pressing his already thin lips into a white line. "Yes, my lord."

"Excellent," the dark lord nodded. "Now tell me. Has anyone yet answered my call…"

"I placed the dark mark over Diagon Alley just as you instructed me, my lord. As of yet, I've had only a few responses from your faithful. Crabbe and Goyle, as always, are ready and able to be of service. Bullstrode and Zabini are also among their ranks."

Voldemort nodded briefly. "Many are still imprisoned in Azkaban, and as for the others, they will soon follow…if they do not, we'll simply eliminate them when the time comes. What of the dementors?"

"I spoke with one of their leaders," said Lucius with an elegant sneer. He despised the scabbed, grotesque creatures. "They are discussing an allegiance, but have not yet decided one way or the other. After all, they have always been neutral. It may take some convincing to sway them."

Voldemort dealt a chilling half-smile that made Malfoy shudder. "They will have all of the souls of the captives to feed on when the war is over; it will help reduce the annoying problem of prisoners. After all I imagine feeding off of the same ones day after day can get a bit tedious. That fact alone should be convincing enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Somehow, Lucius managed a feeble nod. In the back recesses of his mind, he tried to imagine being the kind of creature that could commiserate with dementors, but couldn't seem to wrap his thoughts around it. Even with his unencumbered view of the weak and the strong, those with power, and those meant to serve under it, Malfoy couldn't imagine being allied with such loathsome 'things'. And yet, here he was, about to do just that. But, Lucius sniffed pompously; they were a means to an end, weren't they? Just as everything else in his life had ever been. His job, and even his family…a means to obtain power.

"Yes my lord," said Lucius upon reflection, "I'll remind them of that fact should they decide to refuse our offer."

Voldemort had barely reflected on his answer when he continued on. "And now I have another task to add to your plate. I'll need a few other things from the school..."

When his master had finished with the list, Lucius felt almost overwhelmed. How in the hell did he expect him to be able to get the things he desired, despite how much they were needed? However, he began immediately steeling himself for the project. After all, he reminded himself, he had never been under the illusion that Voldemort's return to power would be easy. But whichever way it came, and in whatever package, he was riding to the top with him where he belonged…After all, he was a Malfoy.

******************************************

Professor DeVoncrey seemed none to eager to return to his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he understood that he was the only one qualified for the position. He'd also been informed of the school's inability thus far to hold on to teachers in his position and didn't deem it fair to abandon the students simply because he found the job stressful…and he did find it stressful.

In the first place, the Dark Arts were nothing to be trifled with. Sometimes, the only way to defend one's self against a dark curse was to use one and yet, the use of the dark arts made one susceptible to it's draw. Today in particular he was trying to hammer that fact into his pupil's young heads, but it seemed all they could think about was the up and coming Quidditch match concerning Slytherin and Gryffindor. It so happened that this particular class was made up of just those houses, which made it all the more difficult to make them pay attention. All they seemed to be able to do was whisper quietly amongst themselves about who was better, and these conversations kept causing small arguments all across the classroom.

Once again DeVoncrey thought to himself how wrong he had been in assuming that the English were a genteel and proper bunch. Well, at least by the standards he used to consider.

"You've gone completely round the twist," whispered a narrow-eyed Ron to Malfoy while DeVoncrey's back was turned, "Not only did Gryffindor beat the hell out of Slytherin last year, but we won the sodding house cup! I don't know what the bloody hell you're going on about…"

"Calm down Ron," said Harry quietly through his teeth, "He's just trying to egg you on…"

"Watch for those bludgers Friday scarhead…" sneered Malfoy, "They seem to have a thing for you. Remember second year?"

"Screw you," hissed Harry back. (Ron smiled…Calm down, indeed.) "That bludger was tampered with and you bloody well know it…Even so I still caught the snitch. All you caught was the ground at about fifty."

Hermione elbowed him and caught his eye. "Harry! You two need to be quiet; this is a very important lesson."

Ron sighed loudly enough for Draco, and unfortunately the professor, to hear. "She's right mate. We shouldn't let the ferret get to us. After all he's full of shit and he knows it."

Malfoy smirked magnificently. "No one like the weasel to recognize shit."

Finally, DeVoncrey had had enough. "Zat is enough, all of you! Monsieur Weasley 'az just cozt Gryffindor a total of twenty pointz today. Who'll make it zirty?" He looked at the Slytherin side. "Would any Zlytherin care to join ze point lozz game? Anyone?"

No one spoke. Ron was livid. If the professor had heard his comments then surely he'd heard Malfoy's. But at that moment his angry gaze fell on the blonde boy and he saw Malfoy hold up a piece of parchment for him to see with writing on it. 'Amicio vox'… The voice concealment spell. DeVoncrey hadn't heard a thing from the Slytherin side, sod it all to hell…

Ginny, who was sitting close by with Seamus only sat quietly, stealing small glances every now and then at the group. Still she had noticed however, that whenever Malfoy caught her eye his gaze softened, and lasted a little longer than was necessary. He also seemed to be sending Seamus particularly murderous glances for no reason. Hmm….

When she was sure Draco was looking, Ginny suddenly spilled ink on her textbook and looked down at the mess in mock horror, yelling loud enough for the whole class to hear.

"Oh no! Look what I did! Clumsy me…"

Ron frowned at her. She wasn't usually careless unless something was flustering her, but she had seemed to be paying a lot of attention to his, Harry's and Malfoy's conversation. She must've gotten upset at hearing Malfoy cause Gryffindor to lose points, and at her brother's expense, no doubt. Ron smiled indulgently at his sister and she smiled innocently back. Ginny…she was nothing if not loyal.

DeVoncrey sighed and closed his eyes. He was sure to need a visit to Madame Pomfrey after this class… "Mizz Weasley…do you need anuzzer book?"

Ginny smiled sweetly and began scooting closer to Seamus. "Oh no professor. I'm sure Seamus will share his with me."

When she was close enough that her side was touching Finnegan's, Ginny crossed her legs towards him and flipped her fiery red hair. She leaned over his book, sending him a smile that could have brightened midnight, and Seamus blushed crimson right up to his ears, grinning madly. Ginny made sure to brush his arm just so. She managed to steal a covert glance at Malfoy and saw that he had glued his steely gray gaze back onto his desk with a fierce determination. His expression changed not a bit, but his normally relaxed posture was completely rigid, and both hands were balled into tight fists.

Ginny sighed quietly and turned her attention back to the book she shared with Seamus. Sorry Draco, but you've managed to ignore me ever since school started. Time to play hard ball…

Only one other person near Ginny noticed what she was doing, and it was because she had considered doing it herself at one time, only to Harry. Being a female didn't hurt matters either. Hermione gazed at the back of Ginny's head and then glanced over to the very stiff form of Malfoy. A little smile played on her lips until Harry caught her hand and gave her a questioning smile. Merlin, were all boys this clueless? She quickly quashed the thoughts and squeezed his hand back, turning back to her lesson. Did it have to be Malfoy, though? Oh Ginny, thought Hermione, I hope you know what you're doing…

14. Chapter 14: Theft of the Time Turner

Chapter 14: Theft of the Time Turner

The fire in the Gryffindor common room blazed warmly, but only a few students were left downstairs to enjoy it, most having either retired for the night, or simply gone to their rooms to have private conversations.

As was usual for them, Harry and Ron were finishing their nightly chess game, a ritual that never failed to bore Hermione, or for that matter, Lavender completely rigid. Both girls had retreated hours ago; Hermione back to she and Harry's common room, and Lavender up to the seventh year girl's dorms. Hermione of course had gone to study on the next day's Potions lesson, even with Ron entreating her the whole way out with, "C'mon 'Mione, have a go! I'll be gentle!" and Lavender had retreated with Parvarti, giggling and gossiping about the kind of kisser her boyfriend was. If Ron had known, he would have burned with embarrassment, but at the moment he was too busy beating Harry to notice.

"Harry, how long've we been playing chess together?" Asked Ron leisurely as he moved his knight in a brilliant defensive gesture.

Harry frowned and looked up, obviously annoyed at the interruption in his concentration. "A fair amount of time…this would be the seventh year you prat; as if you didn't know. Why?"

Ron smiled cheekily as Harry made a bad move with his rook…A decidedly daft choice… "I just wondered," he began, leaning forward to capture Harry's queen, "How in the world after all this time you can still be so bad at it. Aw…Hard lines. Checkmate…mate."

Harry paused, pursing his lips and scanned the board with a frown. Finally he threw himself against the back of his chair with a decidedly frustrated "whump" and a glower.

"I don't know Ron, I guess you're just ruddy better than I am. Smarter too."

Ron nodded, satisfied. "So long as you know…"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione slipped her arms around his neck from behind and leaned around to plant a kiss on him, having just returned from studying.

"What…none for me?" Asked Ron with a smirk.

• • "Shut it, Ron." Hermione circled Harry's chair and sat on the couch between he and Ron, giving the latter a swat on the cheek.

"Quite." Harry favored him with a droll look but Ron chose to ignore it.

"Well a bloke has to get action somewhere."

"Hang on…Ron, I thought I was the only one you wanted 'action' from." Lavender rounded the couch and sat between he and Hermione, giving him a mock scowl. Ron smiled wickedly and threw his arm up behind her on the couch.

"You are. 'Mione's like my sister; there's absolutely no way I mean any of it…I just like to see her blush."

"I don't blush at anything you bang on about, Ron. I've heard it all before. Perhaps you should concentrate on being smart enough to get new material."

Hermione smiled triumphantly and leaned back, satisfied. Harry laughed heartily as his friend's grin steadily faltered.

"Checkmate…mate," he grinned cheshire-like. "You know, it's just as satisfying coming from Hermione. Imagine that…"

Ron scowled as even Lavender had to laugh at that but bit back a reply as the portrait door began to open.

"What in Merlin's name," began Lavender, sitting up a bit, "It's half past ten. Who would be out this late past curfew?"

Professor McGonnagol stepped through the portrait, thanking the Fat Lady for entrance and looking slightly ruffled and sleep deprived. She and the other heads of the houses had been in Dumbledore's office for the better part of three hours discussing the candidates for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and had finally come up with their lists. There had been much discussion about who would excel and who would, (with their limited knowledge of the future and of their student's leanings), most benefit from class, and with much discussion and many a revision, the house leaders had finally chosen their candidates. As the class would be starting within the next few days, the teachers needed their students to be prepared, and also to know which subject, or activity, they might be willing to drop, if needed, to accommodate the new class. Since there were few subjects that were optional, McGonnagol knew the choices would be tough for some. Especially for one student in particular who tended to want to take too many classes at once anyway, and for another who might find the class had more to offer than he might have anticipated…

Minerva favored Hermione with a smile as the students sat up a little straighter in acknowledgement of their professor. She found a portion of the couch to perch on and sat rather heavily with a tired sigh.

"Miss Granger, would you and Mr. Weasley please round up the sixth and seventh years and bring them down to the common room? I have an important announcement."

Hermione stiffened and clutched the small hourglass necklace hidden beneath her shirt. She had only just gotten it from Dumbledore earlier that morning, but had forgotten to take it off as of yet, and now suddenly remembered. "Oh professor, this isn't about what we talked about…I know the time turner can be dangerous but I promise I'll be just as careful with it as I was in second year…"

McGonnagol held up a patient hand. "Hermione, set your mind at ease. This has nothing to do with that. Now will you get the girls for me?"

With her posture relaxing once again, Hermione nodded and began to move around Harry's chair until his hand stopped her. Harry's face was set in frustration and disappointment. Why hadn't she told him?

" 'Mione," Harry half whispered to her, "I thought we talked about it. You were under a fair amount of stress before. The time turner…"

"Mr. Potter," began McGonnagol in a stern but tired voice. "It's been a terribly long day. Do you think you could have your discussion at a later date?"

Harry looked sheepish and dropped Hermione's hand. "Of course professor. Sorry."

Hermione widened her eyes in warning at him, at the same time giving him an apologetic glance and headed toward the stairs. After a few minutes of scuffle and shuffling down the stairs, the common room was full again with students, some rumpled and half asleep, others simply in pajamas, and still others had not yet changed for bed. McGonnagol settled back into her seat and brought out the list she and the other professors had made, unfolding her glasses and perching them on the end of her long nose.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you all at such a late time, but the other professors and I have only just gotten our lists made for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, and I wanted to make sure you all knew as soon as possible who had been chosen to join. Of course as you know, this class is strictly on a voluntary basis, so if you have been chosen and do not wish to join, you only need to let it be known, and your name will be stricken from the list, no questions asked."

McGonnagol looked up over the rim of her small square glasses and caught not a few faces full of excitement and expectation. Hermione Granger, standing behind Potter, was practically dancing on the balls of her feet.

"As I call your names, please remain for further instructions to be given on the time and date of the class…Lavender Brown," Lavender squealed and threw her arms around her best mate, Parvarti. "Colin Creevey," Colin lowered his head morosely and took a small step back from the crowd as if wishing he were invisible. "Seamus Finnegan, Hermione Granger," Seamus gave Dean and Neville a grin, and Hermione squeezed Harry's shoulder so much it hurt, beaming down at he and Ron. "Neville Longbottom," despite his newer improved self, Neville had not expected in a million years to be chosen and turned an almost transparent shade of white. Dean clapped him soundly on the back. "Parvarti Patil," she squealed much like her counterpart, "Harry Potter," Ron and Hermione beamed at him. "Dean Thomas, and Ronald Weasley." The remaining two received claps on the back, and Hermione turned to look all around her.

"That's all of us! At least all of the sixth years…I wonder why…"

McGonnagol gave her a slight look of reproof, and Hermione stopped suddenly, pressing her lips together sheepishly. The professor continued with the seventh years, most of whom they had met but didn't know very well, and finally sighed and rolled up the parchment, placing it back inside her robes.

"Now then. Your first class will start on Monday, and will begin after your last class ends at three…" Immediately groans of protest began around the group. McGonnagol cleared her throat with meaning and looked up at them above her glasses.

"As I have stated before, this is a strictly voluntary class. I know there are several of you who have extra class loads this year and had already had that time slot filled, so you will have to decide whether or not to drop your current class. Anyone not wishing to join needs simply to let me know. However, I would like to stress the importance of these classes…especially to some."

• • Harry saw McGonnagol give him a plainly undisguised glance and gave her a very slight nod. He knew the look, and the reason.

• • "As I was saying," she began again, "You will move immediately to the Astronomy Tower, room four after your last class where you will meet Professor Lupin. You will need no books or parchment, you need only to bring your wand…"

"No books?" muttered Hermione in disappointment. On the couch in front of her, Harry squelched a smile.

"The class should last no more than an hour, so those of you who have chosen to play Quidditch should have no worries making it to the pitch for practice. That's all I have unless there are any questions."

Of course immediately around her, the professor was deluged with questions ranging from how hard would the class be to what kinds of things would be taught, so the students who seemed to need nothing further began to get up and move away. Harry had begun to get up as well, but McGonnagol's restraining hand stopped him.

"Harry, a moment please. I need to discuss something with you before I leave."

Harry frowned questioningly at her, but dropped back into his seat on the couch.

Many questions and discussions later, the students had finally had their fill of information, and even Hermione had run out of things to ask. They all began to drift back upstairs, and with a small peck on his cheek, Hermione left Harry to talk to McGonnagol and made her way out of the portrait door and down the hallway towards the Head Boy and Girl's dorm.

McGonnagol turned her attention back to Potter, who was sitting slumped a little wearily on the couch a little to the right of her.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're tired, but this won't take long."

Harry sat up a little straighter out of respect and blinked tiredly as she continued.

"Harry, Professor Lupin has asked that he be given extra time with you specifically at the end of each lesson for more intensive training."

Harry sat up even more in surprise and frowned. "Me? Why? Doesn't he think the Advanced DADA class is enough?"

McGonnagol closed her eyes briefly and nodded in deference to his question. "Apparently he thinks you, more than any of the others might benefit from knowing all you can to defend yourself. Of course I, along with Professor Dumbledore am inclined to agree. I would think you would be as well."

"Well of course but what about Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry a bit more forcefully than he had intended to. He bit his top lip and settled back a bit. "I'm sorry professor, but what I mean is, a fair amount of the troubles I get into with Vol…I'm sorry, him, involve them as well. Don't you and Lupin think it would be wise for them to have the extra training as well?"

McGonnagol raised an eyebrow at him. "That's Professor Lupin, Harry and yes, I would be inclined to agree with you. But Remus has had a meeting with the Headmaster and he wishes to meet with you only after each class. Apparently he intends to teach you about something extra that only you are to partake in."

McGonnagol leaned forward as if to make certain that only she and Harry were hearing the conversation. "Harry, if ever you were to take my advice, or the Headmasters for that matter, take it now. Take the extra instruction. Remus Lupin is one of the most powerful wizards in the Order of the Phoenix. If he says he wants extra time with you to show you even more ways to defend yourself, you can be sure that he won't waste your time."

Harry blinked a couple of times at McGonnagol before sighing and nodding his head. He knew it would be stupid of him not to take the extra training in DADA when it was offered him, but his time seemed so limited as it was. What with O.W.L.s and Quidditch, and N.E.W.T.s were next year…all he wished for was a time when he wasn't so busy and stressed. Some time for just a little relaxation and a reprieve from the threat of Voldemort for that matter…

"All right professor, I'll do it."

McGonnagol nodded once, satisfied. "I think you'll find you've made the right decision, Potter…"

A high-pitched terrified scream erupted from outside the common room and down the hall, and brought Harry abruptly back from his thoughts and onto his feet in an instant, his wand drawn and out to his side. An icy chill clutched at his heart and his gaze immediately shot to the one person still sitting near him.

McGonnagol had jumped almost a foot in that instant and had drawn her wand with lightning fast reflexes that almost seemed too agile for a witch her age. "What in Merlin's name…" she puffed.

A voice was heard faintly screaming somewhere out in the corridors. "No, DON'T! Stay away! G..Get back!"

A couple of curses, thrown at the same time and the sounds of a short wand fight ensued, and then there was nothing.

Harry froze in that instant, a look of utter horror coming over his face. Oh my god…

Ron had stumbled down the stairs, harried and in his nightclothes, along with a dozen other Gryffindors, all with wild eyes, and with wands out just as the sounds stopped.

"What the bloody h…Harry, that sounded like…"

"Hermione…" Harry breathed. He reacted with maddening speed, adrenaline powering his legs. It seemed to take him only a fraction of a second to reach the portrait door and fling it open, Ron in close pursuit behind him.

McGonnagol turned swiftly to the students behind her moving curiously closer to the portrait door. "No one is to leave this common room, understood? Mr. Hampton, I'll leave you in charge."

Fillius Hampton, a tall seventh year nodded once and watched as Professor McGonnagol hurried out of the portrait door, letting it slam shut behind her.

Harry's heart pounded like a machine gun as he ran, his eyes searching frantically for Hermione. Thankfully the Head Boy and Girl's rooms weren't far away, having been situated between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses, and his frenzied thoughts were to head there first to look for her. The cry hadn't seemed that far away…

Only a few turns of the corner later, and Harry saw far ahead of him, the nightmarish image of Hermione, lying slumped on the floor of the corridor, just a few feet away from their shared common room. As their common room was between Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and there were no other rooms between them save theirs, no one had yet come to her aid. No…god no…

Feverishly, he forced his legs to pump even faster and reached her with a frustrated cry, throwing himself to his knees beside her even as Ron came pounding up behind him, puffing and wheezing for air. Harry had already gathered her into his arms and was now swiping tangled hair from her face, fighting to control his breathing as he was dangerously close to hyperventilating. He placed his fingers on her neck quickly and felt his body slump in relief as he felt the steady beat of her pulse. But she still wasn't moving. Her clothes were covered in ash and the back of her head seemed to have taken a nasty knock as Harry felt the distinct stickiness of blood between his fingers. He was abruptly reminded of a situation too similar for comfort only last year only this time it was inside the school…

" 'Mione…'Mione please…" Harry placed a trembling hand on her cheek.

Ron slumped to his knees beside them. "Mate, is she…Mate! Look at me! Is she alive? Is she?"

Harry turned to look at Ron as if he had only just noticed that he had been behind him the entire time and blinked a couple of times before he spoke. "She's alive…but hurt. We need to get her to Madame Pomfrey right now."

McGonnagol, completely out of breath gasped and came to an abrupt halt as she saw Harry and Ron on their knees a few meters ahead of her, Harry cradling Hermione in his lap. She bustled over to them at once and shoved between them, kneeling down and placing her hands on Hermione's head.

"Mr. Potter, let me see…Let me see!"

Harry turned more toward his professor and McGonnagol gasped again as one of her hands came away sticky and wet with blood. It was then, while the professor cradled Hermione's head for him for a moment, that Harry noticed that the time turner that had been around Hermione's neck was gone. He thought for a moment to mention it immediately, but thought better of it in a second. The most important thing first was to get Hermione to the infirmary.

• • McGonnagol stood briskly, her wand still out, and scanned the area around her as if Ron and Harry hadn't already, quickly turning her attention once again back to the three.

"Harry, Ronald, bring Ms. Granger with you and follow me immediately."

Harry stood with a small grunt, cradling Hermione carefully in his arms and taking care to let her injured head fall gently on his shoulder before he and Ron followed McGonnagol at a brisk pace towards the infirmary.

15. Chapter 15: Time for Truth

Chapter 15: It's Time He Knows the Truth…

A/N: Oh no! I've made a few mistakes… Somehow in my muddled thinking I reverted back to thinking that my story had them in sixth year (see last chapter)…But I meant to have them in seventh…I'm so sorry for the confusion if anyone caught that! Anyway, having finished OotP, I realize that my story (I was already way into it when OotP came out) might not follow JKR's vision, so Oh well… Anyway enjoy!

Breathless and almost faint with worry, McGonnagol, Ron, and Harry carrying Hermione burst through the infirmary doors to abruptly awaken Poppy Pomfrey as she dozed on one of the patient cots. Pomfrey often found herself out like a light, awakening deep into the early hours of the morning as she frequently fell asleep before making her way to her own quarters situated just off the left side of the medical wing. It was times such as this that made her damn glad she had decided to wait around a bit longer, although the trip to her room would have been a short one.

Harry, almost tearful in his misery, immediately rounded the cot to her right and carefully laid Hermione down, still cradling her head as if afraid that even the pillow might be too hard for it. Pomfrey jumped up, keenly embarrassed to have been caught sleeping outside of her quarters again, but came round quickly at the sight of the injured student and even more so owing to who it was.

"Merlin's ghost," she gasped coming round her bed and leaning down to begin checking Hermione. She fixed Harry and Ron with baleful glares. "What in the blazes of hell have you two been up to now!? It isn't enough you seem to have a knack at being in the wrong place at the wrong time…you have to bloody well continue right through your last year…"

"They had nothing to do with it Poppy," McGonnagol spoke up firmly. "Ms. Granger was apparently headed back to she and Mr. Potter's dorms when we heard the beginnings of a wand fight. We found her only minutes later."

Poppy had just then placed her hand on the back of Hermione's head and heard the girl emit her first moan. She jumped at the sound, and then gasped and jumped again as her hand came away warm and gluey with blood.

"Merlin's beard…I thought she seemed a bit peaky!" Pomfrey laid the girl's head back gently and shooed Harry and Ron away from the bed before drawing curtains around it to thoroughly check out her patient.

After finding only the large welt to the head, along with a few bruises, her body visibly relaxed with relief and smiling reassuringly to McGonnagol, she opened the curtains again, allowing the two boys to return to their friend's bedside.

"Just a little bruising round the back and shoulders where she's fallen, but she'll be rather sore and peaky for a while. There's only one thing for it. She'll have to stay in bed for a few days until she's well enough to get about on her own. Potter, I suppose you and Mr. Weasley'll be good enough to bring Ms. Granger her lessons? She'll be wanting those…"

Harry and Ron nodded their assent, eyes glued to Hermione the whole time, and Pomfrey whirled around summoning the medications needed for the treatment of head trauma from the supply closet. She tossed the wand back onto the bed beside her and turned Granger onto her back.

Weasley, McGonnagol noticed, was jigging nervously on the balls of his feet, making small moves with his hands as if wanting desperately to help.

His counterpart however squatted down, almost as still and silent as a tomb; motionless except for a hand stroking Hermione's hair. He stayed at eye level with her; a stricken look mixed with determined fury twisting his features. He began muttering nonsensical things, but some of his ramblings seemed aimed at the invisible person who had done this.

Harry's quiet whispering, though obviously filled with emotion, somehow came out almost cold and dead. I'll find whoever it is, 'Mione…I'll find whoever did this to you. God help the bloke when I do…

McGonnagol chose that moment to let her eyes wander over toward a nearby window and caught the sudden faint glow of a mysterious red light from somewhere above the point of the horizon that she could see. Unseen by her, Harry grabbed at his scar at the same time, feeling it begin to burn. She frowned in curiosity despite the situation at hand and opened her mouth to speak to them, but Hermione moaned a second time and her eyes fluttered moistly open. Needless to say all attention was diverted at that moment.

Harry had dropped from his squatting position to his knees and was now staring wide-eyed at the girl, both hands on either side of her face, and Ron had dropped to his knees as well, gripping Hermione's hand like a lifeline.

When the girl finally did come round, her eyes were glazed over with fear as if somehow she was still back in the hallway facing her attacker.

"No…Stay away from me!" Hermione pulled away from Harry and wrenched her right hand from Ron's grasp, making a grabbing motion as if for her wand. When her hand found nothing but bed sheets, she screamed inarticulately again and sat up suddenly, scrambling backward from them all like a terrified animal. She stopped, pressed against the headboard of her bed.

Harry, shocked and completely distressed, murmured her name and reached his hands out to her but she shrieked hysterically again and slapped them away. He returned them almost uselessly to his side before bringing them up to rest claw-like against his forehead, peering anguished between his fingers at her.

Open-mouthed, McGonnagol stepped up to intervene but waited at a motion from Weasley.

Ron had blanched. "Hermione…it's us. Don't be afraid…" He reached a hand out to her as well before being treated in much the same way. Hermione attempted to make herself part of the headboard by crouching as closely as possible to it, wrapping her arms around her knees and keening in a low whimpering tone. Her eyes were round and wide with fear and held no recognition in them.

Ron felt a shiver run through his whole body at her expression and returned his hands to his side, his stunned gaze traveling inevitably to Harry.

Harry, for his part, was utterly stricken. His heart gave a painful stab with every panicky cry from Hermione even as Madame Pomfrey tried to calm and soothe her. His shaggy hair, messy at best, was completely disheveled by now from the number of times he had clawed a hand through it and brought it back down to chew distraughtly on his knuckles.

McGonnagol, with a startled face and a gaze full of worry stepped forward again towards Pomfrey. "Poppy, what's happened…Why is she reacting like that!? She's known these two for seven years…"

Pomfrey waved a hand at the Professor to silence her for a moment, and raised her wand towards Hermione, speaking a quiet calming spell over her. It finally succeeded in soothing the girl enough so that she could disentangle her from the ball of limbs and bed sheets she had become.

Hermione relaxed and closed her eyes momentarily, touching a hand to her head gingerly and shaking it as if trying to clear away the fogginess. When she opened her eyes, slowly, clear recognition shone in them once again, along with a wince of pain.

"Ron, Professor McGonnagol…Harry."

The last name was spoken in a broken whisper, and Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hand came up quickly to grip the shirt over his chest as if his heart had just started beating once again and he dropped onto the bed beside her, gently taking her into his arms, oblivious to the few tears that had fallen down his face.

After a few moments of crushing him to her, Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron trying to sniff back obvious signs of tears, and she smiled, lifting one hand from Harry's back to beckon to him.

Ron dropped his shoulders wearily and sat on the bed beside them, hugging them both gratefully as well.

She knew the events of last year had brought the three even closer together than they had been; yet Minerva hadn't expected to see such affection so openly displayed. The surprise and tenderness of it tugged at her chest almost painfully. Deciding rather quickly to keep up her usual pretense of sternness, McGonnagol quickly swiped at her cheeks and turned to Pomfrey deliberately steadying her voice, although it took some work.

"Wh…Why didn't she recognize them straight away?"

"The mind sometimes has a strange way of protecting itself, Minerva," sighed a relieved Pomfrey, gazing at the three. "I think she also took quite a harder lump to the head than I realized. But I had hoped once she was calmed she might start to think more clearly." She sighed again, but more out of tiredness than anything else.

"Just as a precaution though, I'll need her to stay awake for the next twenty-four hours or so…possible concussion and all. I'm sure you wouldn't mind letting Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley sort that job between them."

Ron and Harry, who had finally done hugging Hermione, looked at each other with Ron immediately recognizing the look on Potter's face. He smiled tiredly at him.

"No worries mate, I love my bed you know. Besides, Ginny and Lavender are probably in a right state by now and if I don’t get back to tell them everything's all right I reckon there'll be a huge row. Don't really care as far as Ginny's concerned but Lav…Well, you know…"

Harry smiled at him. "Git. I know you care about Ginny as well. Go on then, I'll see you tomorrow night I expect."

"Right." Ron smiled cheekily at them, leaned down to give Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, and began striding toward the door.

He got no closer to it than Professor McGonnagol did when Dumbledore, clad in a dressing gown and nightcap, but looking despite his dress every bit the powerful wizard he was, almost plowed through the door, wand in hand and locked gazes with the Transfiguration teacher.

"Minerva, how is Ms. Granger?" He asked rather hastily.

McGonnagol, slightly taken aback at the headmaster's tone spoke up hesitantly. "She'll be all right, with proper rest and attention…Only a nasty bump to the head and some bruises…"

"Fine, fine…" said Dumbledore, and despite his tone he did look relieved. His next words however cleared everything for them all. "I'll need you to come with me straight away then."

McGonnagol looked past Dumbledore and saw Professor Snape, along with Binns, Vector, Sprout, Trelawny (looking decidedly owlish), Hagrid, Flitwick and Lupin, all in various states of dress, and all with wands out.

McGonnagol swallowed harshly as Pomfrey hurried over to join them and Harry stood slowly from Hermione's bed, her hand still clasped in his.

"What is it Albus?"

Dumbledore continued. "Have you seen out the window?"

"No, I haven't, not really. I've only just had the chance to breathe what with all this, although I did notice a reddish glow…"

"It's the dark mark, Minerva."

McGonnagol gasped and faltered for a brief moment, steadied by Ron, before grabbing her wand in a swift motion and hurriedly moving to follow Dumbledore and the rest.

No one noticed Harry however. He took one brief look at Hermione, dropped her hand and whipped his wand out from the back of his jeans. A sudden wave of rage surged through his body like an electrical current, and it only took a fleeting heartbeat or two for him to make up his mind. Only one thought radiated like an emotion throughout his entire body. Go.

Panic zinged through Hermione in an instant as Harry dropped her hand and lashed out his wand. She'd seen that look too many times… "Harry, NO. Don't go…" She made a grab for his arm but was too late. "NO, HARRY!"

He was gone in an instant, furiously tearing through the room with the force and speed of a madman. He whipped and shoved past Ron, Dumbledore and through the crowd of professors who tried futilely to grab at him.

" 'Arry, don' you go runnin' out there!" Yelled Hagrid, swiping at him with a giant hand. Harry easily ducked under it.

"Harry, stop right now!" Screamed Remus Lupin as he ran after him. He managed to grab onto his arm, but Harry tore it from his grasp and continued running, even as the professor made grabbing motions at him. The younger man was ultimately too fast and he charged down the hall and out of sight, his hair blowing back from his forehead and his scar twinging and throbbing an angry red.

"Damn it!" Yelled a frustrated Lupin.

He and the others immediately ran after him, with Pomfrey staying behind to keep a struggling Ron, and an angry, petrified Hermione, who was trying unsuccessfully to scramble out of bed, at bay. She finally succeeded, but only by threatening to petrify both of them with her wand.

**********************************

Harry pounded wildly down the hallways, his breathing hitched and uneven and his thoughts tumbling madly out of control. He finally made it to the huge front double doors of the school and, not even pausing for a breath, hurled himself against one of them and forced it open. Immediately, he took an attack stance and lit the tip of his wand.

He found himself surrounded with darkness, complete and unbroken. It was as if the moon and stars had been blown out, and nothing was left but a dense black hole where the school grounds had once been. A frigid breeze blew softly and eerily about him, but did nothing towards blowing aside whatever cloud cover must be obliterating the light from the moon and stars.

Harry felt an unaccountable chill creep over him, and looked up to see the dark mark, painted in a hazy red, marring the otherwise black sky above him. Another message in Latin was written beneath it this time, and the snake protruding from the jaw of the skull had now slithered downward a bit, it's fanged mouth open and smiling as if pleased with the words. 'Tempus id est propinguo'…

The chill surrounding Harry was almost antarctic now, but he ignored it and threw his wand arm out before him, twisting and turning in a mad dance in all directions to find whoever had done this. When he began screaming the voice that came out was hardly recognizable as his own. It dripped with corrosive hatred and cracked with rage.

"Come out! Come out, DAMMIT! Face me!" His voice sounded strangely hollow and without echo, as if he were speaking from inside a box. He whipped violently around once again, his eyes searching the darkness furiously. He surged forward again but his gaze met nothing but blackness.

"It's me you want, isn't it!? Well here I am! Let's finish this! NO MORE GAMES YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Harry!"

Lupin was the first to crash out of the double doors, followed closely by Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Hagrid and the rest of the professors, all (except for Hagrid) with wands out, and looks of complete shock on their faces. They all moved to rush forward as one, but Dumbledore only needed to raise a hand to stop them. Harry continued screaming into nothingness as if he hadn't even noticed them, whirling and turning in all directions and looking by all accounts, murderous.

"Remus." Dumbledore spoke quietly, but with his usual air of complete authority and motioned Lupin forward, leaving more than one professor completely baffled. But although they didn't understand his decision, every one abided by it. Only Snape looked decidedly livid. He for one had hoped to finally get the chance to use his wand on Potter, even if it meant a simple stunning spell.

Dumbledore lit his wand with a 'Lumos' as did the rest, and led the group down the steps and into the blackness to search for the perpetrator, even though he was sure whoever it was would be long gone by now.

Lupin approached Harry cautiously. It seemed the young man was dangerously close to losing complete control, and he wanted neither himself nor Harry getting hurt.

Harry continued running in different directions, in a state of extreme agitation. He'd never remembered being this eager for a fight, never remembered wanting something so much as to flay Voldemort open and hang him by his own entrails. In his mind, his thoughts kept coming back to one undeniable fact. He'd had enough. No more hiding…no more waiting for the dark lord to strike. He wanted this over with…and he wanted it NOW.

"Come on out you COWARDLY BASTARD! Here's your real target!…No more hiding, no more banging on about destiny or any of that other SHIT…You want a final war!? You've got one…"

"Harry, stop…" Lupin moved forward a bit, but still not too close, and Harry finally whirled around to notice him. The expression on his face changed a little at seeing one of his professors, but the tenseness, and his attack posture changed not a bit.

"Stop what!?" Harry yelled, "Stop the inevitable!? This is what he wants professor, why not give it to him!?"

"And accomplish what, exactly?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and his expression turned stony and cold. "I don’t know. All I know is that I have to stop this…He's hurting everyone I care about and I won't stand for it anymore! This…w..with Hermione…I just can't…I won't…It's not going to happen again…I won't let it."

The naked grief in Harry's face, the thought of all he'd had to endure in his young life, a life that should have been carefree thus far was almost more than Lupin could bear. He began to reach a hand out to the younger man but stopped abruptly as Harry flinched back, a look of slight confusion in his eyes. Lupin pulled back, a bit hurt although he knew he had no right to be. Maybe, soon…

"Harry, I understand. Perhaps more than you know…"

"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU!?" yelled Harry in frustration. "Are you talking about my parents!?" Lupin blanched. "That quite possibly was a little harder on me than you, don't you think?"

Lupin opened his mouth to speak but no words would form. If you only knew, Harry…If you only knew…

As Harry spoke, the sound of echolessness, like being inside an enclosed space, only served to compound the eerie, stricken look on his professor's face. As he gazed on the man, confusion set in deep. What was with him? As if he had any idea what Harry was feeling…No. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now but killing Voldemort.

Harry shook his head as if to rid himself of all distracting thoughts. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters…I don't matter. Nothing else is important right now, I just need to find him and you're distracting me, so if you don't mind…" He turned away from Lupin.

"Distracting you!? Lupin almost yelled, grabbing hold of Harry's arm and missing the look of warning the boy shot him. "Let's not forget who's the professor and who's the student! And what the hell do you mean, 'you don't matter'!? You…of course you…Harry…whoever did this is long gone by now. Besides that fact, you aren't yet ready to face him…"

"Not ready to face him!?" scoffed Harry in disbelief. "Professor I've been steadily facing him all my life. How much more ready can I be!?"

Lupin tensed his jaw. "You don’t understand. Something else happened tonight. Something neither you or Professor McGonnagol yet know about as you weren't there."

Harry dropped his wand arm finally. The professor obviously wasn't going to let him be. "What is it…"

"Not here," said Lupin, grabbing Harry's arm and leading him back towards the castle doors. "Inside. Believe me when I say, Harry that you aren't yet ready to face him."

Harry took his arm back from Lupin's grasp, but followed him inside anyway. When the doors had closed behind them and the professor turned to face him, Harry noticed that he had paled to an even whiter shade than before. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he seemed to have aged ten years in the amount of time it had taken for the two of them to walk inside. And was that a trace of tears in his eyes? What the bloody hell…

"Harry, what I have to tell you…Well, suffice it to say that it won't be easy. Not for me to say, or for you to understand. I…I don't expect you to forgive me. Not for a long time, but please believe me when I say that what was done was done for your own good. For your protection…"

Harry felt the color draining from his face as well and felt a slight tinge of panic. Whatever the professor was trying to tell him…Well it seemed the man would rather be any place than where he was at this moment, and Harry had the distinct feeling that his life was about to change. Nevertheless, he'd never been known for his patience…

"Professor, please. I don't need you to candy-coat anything for me. All I want is the bloody truth. It's all I've ever wanted."

Lupin nodded and swallowed harshly. However, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore, followed by the rest of the professors, pushed open the double doors and strode inside, looking angry and defeated. Lupin looked only a little relieved.

"Headmaster…any news?"

Dumbledore nodded once to the other teachers, who all took the movement to mean that he would meet with them later. As they dispersed, he walked over to Lupin and Harry, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Whoever attacked Ms. Granger and left the Dark Mark has long since disappeared, I'm afraid Remus; as I suspected he would. However, I have a good idea of who it might have been."

Both Harry and Lupin decided to let the matter that had been at hand rest for the moment and looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

"I believe Lucius Malfoy was here earlier today on 'official Ministry business'. I left him with Argus (Filch) as he prepared to leave. But I'm afraid after having been missing for several hours, our caretaker was only just discovered unconscious in one of the broom closets on the fifth floor by Mrs. Norris. As fate would have it, Mrs. Norris was able to quite effectively 'sniff' out her master, much to his fortune."

Harry's hands began to shake uncontrollably with rage, and he quickly balled them into fists. Once again he was consumed with wrath, but instead of yelling, his voice was low with loathing. "I knew he was a bastard. I don't understand why something wasn't done with him two years ago…"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Harry," said Dumbledore wisely. "A wizard cannot be convicted without evidence."

Lupin nodded, and Harry clawed a hand roughly through his hair in frustration, causing it to stand up in all directions. But suddenly, Harry remembered something he should have remembered to tell the headmaster much earlier. My god…

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, "When we found Hermione earlier…I meant to tell Professor McGonnagol but what with 'Mione lying there in that state…" he shuddered. "The time turner…Lucius Malfoy must've taken it. When she left the common room it was round her neck, but when we found her in the hallway, it was gone."

Dumbledore grimaced, and Lupin shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand what Malfoy, or Voldemort would want with the time turner. It can't be used any farther back than two years…"

Dumbledore held up a weathered hand. "I'm sure his plan will be revealed soon, if the warning he left for us out there is any indicator…Unfortunately, it will do no good to inform the Ministry as Fudge refuses to believe Voldemort has returned, and he certainly wouldn't turn on his wealthiest supporter…"

For the first time in all of his years at Hogwarts, Harry heard a hint of cynicism in the Headmaster's voice. He'd seen the headmaster upset, even angry, which was an awesome sight to behold in and of itself, but never as mistrusting as he seemed now. It seemed times were definitely changing…

Lupin turned to the younger man. "Harry, about what we were discussing," Lupin glanced fleetingly at Dumbledore, who glanced at the two above his half-moon lenses. "I believe the Headmaster will agree with me that it's now time that you understand. That you're told everything."

A few moments of undisturbed silence passed between Dumbledore and Lupin, and Harry grew increasingly frustrated. It was as if the Headmaster and Lupin were holding some sort of mental conversation. Are you sure? It's time he knew… I think you're right… But how much should he know? All of it Ja…

"PLEASE!" yelled Harry finally, "Whatever it is, I deserve to know. I NEED to know. If you were holding information from me because you thought I was too young to hear it, I’m bloody well grown up enough now."

Dumbledore smiled thinly, sadly at Harry, and Lupin turned his gaze to him, regarding him with something resembling…Pride?

Dumbledore gently clapped a hand on Harry's back and led him along as the three walked. "We'll talk in my office, Harry. It is finally time you understood everything."

A/N: I know by now you all want to hang me for the cliffhanger but believe me when I say that I had to leave it there. I'm going to post the next chapter really soon, and all will be revealed, so stay tuned!!! :0) And please be kind and review. I really live for the comments!

16. Chapter 16: All Is Revealed

Chapter 16: All Is Revealed

A/N: Ok campers, here's the chapter where many, MANY secrets are revealed to Harry. Some of them are from my own imagination, some of them (I must give credit where it's due) are from a book called, "The Ultimate Unofficial Guide to the Mysteries of Harry Potter". It's not authorized by JKR or anything like that, it's just a few people's speculations on what could be going on in the stories. So be warned, there could be spoilers in here, or they could be completely wrong, it all depends on how right I or the book I just described is! Also, I realize that the "secrets" I reveal in here may baffle some people, might piss some off, or might make you say, "yeah right." Don't flame me please! It's just my take on my own story! Anyhoo, I hope the majority of you enjoy it, and I hope it makes you think and go, "Hmm, I wonder…" If so, I've done my job right! If you read parts of this chapter that are all in italics, that means that it's a memory. Anyway, happy reading! And do please review!

As Dumbledore sat down opposite Harry and a decidedly pale Remus Lupin, Harry reminisced about all the other times he'd visited the Headmaster's office. It seemed at times when Harry or his friends were in danger, at the times when Harry was in need most of advice, a confidant, or someone who believed in him, he always ended up in this office, opposite the Headmaster. Dumbledore's office had always represented a sort of safe haven for Harry, a place where he could voice his fears, and a place where he would be heard, believed, and taken seriously. As a result, the huge round room had always held a warm, secure place in his heart. It had even at times, represented what he imagined his mother and father's home to be.

But somehow, this night, Harry felt no warmness or sense of security. In fact he felt cold and overwhelmingly alone. This night, already, Dumbledore and Lupin had revealed that they had kept even more secrets from him than he originally thought. He'd thought that everything had been revealed in his fifth year, after being told of the prophecy involving himself and Voldemort. Now apparently, the conspiracy continued. At least that's how it felt to Harry. And by god if Lupin especially didn't look particularly guilty tonight…

Lupin shifted a bit in his chair, and seemed unable to meet Harry's steady, almost accusatory gaze. "Harry…I just have to…I want to stress again that everything that has been kept from you has been done for your own protection. Please believe me when I say that for years…for so many years, I've been torn by wanting to tell you…t..to tell you…"

Lupin seemed to be struggling to continue, so Dumbledore spoke up. "Harry, I wish there were an easier way to begin…"

"I'm not looking for easy, Professor. Just the truth."

Harry's words held a sting in them that both Lupin and Dumbledore seemed to feel, and Harry's face wore the ghost of a tight smile. They deserved it…

Dumbledore steepled his fingers together in front of his face and sighed. No better place to begin than at the beginning… "Harry, have you ever wondered why your parents lived in an area known as 'Godric's Hollow'?"

Harry sat back for the ride and knit his brows together in confusion. "I…not really, I…guess I thought more about what went on there than the name."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Godric Gryffindor owned that land, and passed it on from generation to generation. So…When your father's father died…He inherited it."

Lupin continued to stare at the floor, and Harry for his part, looked appropriately stunned. Immediately in his mind, he recalled the day that he'd bought his first and only wand from Ollivander's. When he'd touched it, hadn't it shot out red and gold sparks? Those couldn't be Gryffindor's colors for nothing…And now, the fact that his parents had lived at Godric's Hollow…

"Professor, are you telling me that my father was Godric Gryffindor's heir?"

Dumbledore nodded and Lupin gave a small grunt of agreement. "And as a result…now, that honor belongs to you."

Lupin finally looked up from the hole he'd been staring into the carpet. "Harry, remember in the Chamber of Secrets when you pulled Godric's sword from the Sorting Hat…Only Godric's true heir could do that…"

Harry sat up and shook his head vehemently. "No…Headmaster," he began uncertainly, "You told me only someone who had truly remained faithful to you could have pulled the sword from the hat…"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes I did, Harry. And in a way, that is true, for Fawkes would never have brought you the sorting hat for you to retrieve the sword from, if not for your loyalty to me."

Harry set his jaw and nodded. "So, I'm Gryffindor's heir. That might explain Voldemort's hatred of me…"

Lupin looked down now and spoke with a voice hoarse with regret. "There's more." He took a moment to compose his voice and continued. "Harry, your powers…well…there's a reason you're so powerful, and it's not what you think."

Harry looked up and felt his heart begin to flutter with unease. "Professor Dumbledore explained it to me!" He looked to the headmaster with a tinge of betrayal on his face. "You said that the night Voldemort tried to kill me he transferred some of his powers to me!"

"I told you the truth, Harry. I just left out a few things…and only because it was necessary at the time."

Lupin sat up in his chair, and for the first time since entering the Headmaster's office, Harry looked directly into his now red-rimmed eyes. It was clear whatever secrets he'd been holding for so long had taken their toll. Could it be that there'd been more than being a werewolf that had kept him sickly and pale for all these years?

Remus sighed, a deep, soul-wrenching whoosh. "I suppose it's best to start at the beginning." Harry steeled himself. "I'm sure you know about Tom Riddle's life before Hogwarts, Harry. How his mother, a witch, died in childbirth, and how his father, being Muggle, disowned the boy after finding out her secret." Harry nodded. "Good," continued Lupin, "Then you understand that Hogwarts was the only home Tom had ever really known. When his father disowned him, Tom was sent to live in a wizard's orphanage until his eleventh birthday, when Professor Dumbledore, then the Transfiguration teacher, took pity on him, and offered to pay for his education at the school. He also generously gave Tom the opportunity to live at the school during holidays and summers instead of returning to the orphanage. Tom gratefully accepted, and was one of the brightest students in the school. But he'd always felt something was missing…something well beyond the need for a home, a mother, a father…Tom, I guess, needed to find out who he was, where he belonged.

When he'd joined the school, the sorting hat had immediately put him in Slytherin, so Dumbledore and I suspect that he felt the history of Salazar Slytherin would be a good place to start. And considering Salazar's history, and his hatred of muggle-borns, the book Tom needed was of course in the restricted section of the library. Tom already knew of his mother's heritage and knew he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin as nothing was kept from him at the orphanage. He learned after much secret studying that Salazar's family had consistently produced only one heir to keep bloodlines pure, and to keep power struggles from happening. Aberdeen Slytherin had been something of a rebel in her family. She'd married a Muggle, an unforgivable thing, and as a result, was cursed the day she gave birth to Tom and died from it."

Harry let his back hit the chair behind him and let out a short breath, but Lupin wasn't through.

"Tom decided he wanted to carry on Salazar Slytherin's work…to rid the school of all Muggle-borns. It was all he had to hold on to, and considering the rage and hatred he must've had built up from all the years of being alone and unwanted, the feelings of rejection; it's not a surprise that he grabbed onto the one thing he had…his history."

Harry suddenly sat up. "Moaning Myrtle…She was the first…"

"And only," said Dumbledore quickly, "at least where the school is concerned. When I confronted Tom and told him that the school would be closed if the killings weren't stopped, he quickly realized that he might lose his only home. It was then that everything stopped. But the only thing Tom stopped was the killings in the school. He still had his mind set to follow as closely as possible in Salazar Slytherin's footsteps, and along the way, gained a desire for power, just as Salazar had. That hunger for power, and his desire to follow in Slytherin's footsteps, ultimately began his descent into darkness."

Harry nodded. "I understand. But how does Tom Riddle's history have anything to do with me?"

Dumbledore paused and looked from Harry to Lupin whose eyes remained glued to the floor. He shifted forward and rested his elbows on his knees, only giving a silent nod of approval for the Headmaster to continue. Dumbledore nodded back to him.

"Harry, there's something that Tom never found out about his mother…Something that, until much later, he'd never thought possible. Before his mother died, before she'd ever even met his father, she'd met, and slept with a fellow Slytherin in her sixth year at Hogwarts. Aberdeen knew her family would rather order the child destroyed than have the family name smeared, and not being as heartless as she might have seemed, she had the baby in secret, and left it on the doorsteps of a neighboring family near her parents. She hoped that she might be allowed at least, to see the baby grow up if it lived near her. The neighboring family were Muggles by the last name of Watkins."

Harry stared at Dumbledore and shrugged his shoulders slightly. Still the significance of the story alluded him. Though the last name Watkins sounded vaguely familiar.

Dumbledore continued, but at a slower pace, so that Harry might fully absorb the next bit of information he was being bombarded with. "The Watkins somehow found out that the baby belonged to Aberdeen, and confronted her with it. They told her that if she didn't explain the entire situation to them, they would head straightaway to her family's house and tell them everything. So Aberdeen was forced to tell the family all, including the fact that they were wizards, and came from one of the most powerful and influential wizarding families, the Slytherin.

After hearing the girl's story, and being convinced that Aberdeen's parents might kill the child if they ever found out, they agreed to keep the baby and raise it as their own.

And now Harry, I'll skip to the parts that involve you, as I'm sure by now you're thoroughly confused."

Harry gave a wan smile. "A bit."

Dumbledore nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin raised his head and held up a hand. "Please Albus," he said quietly in an almost pained voice. "Let me finish."

The Headmaster nodded immediately. "Of course."

Lupin mustered the courage to look Harry straight in the eyes. "Harry, as generations went on, last names changed as they are wont to do." Harry nodded, a confusion creeping onto his face. Lupin swallowed harshly. "One of the most recent generations…well, the father was Wesley Evans, and the mother Leigh Parry. They had two daughters…Petunia and Lily."

At the name Lily, Harry suddenly sat up, board-straight, and his face blanched to an ashen shade of gray. Nonono…It couldn't be true...Mum's family were Muggle…As the implications began to sink in, he began to feel faint, his heart rate increasing until he felt himself beginning to hyperventilate. Oh god…god, Merlin…anyone…NO…

"My mum was a Gryffindor! Headmaster, you said so yourself!"

Dumbledore looked at Harry from above the rim of his small glasses. "Once again Harry… It is our choices that make us who we are."

Lupin swiped shamelessly at the tears now streaming down his face. "Oh god, Harry. I'm so sorry you never knew. Lily herself didn't know until just before w…u…until just before she and James were married. The story had been passed down from generation to generation, but her parents never wanted to acknowledge their Slytherin heritage, and certainly never wanted to carry it on. But as the Evans' found out their daughter was to marry the heir of Gryffindor, well, the secret just couldn't stay hidden. At the time she and James had…" Lupin swallowed a huge lump. "Had you, Voldemort had come to power, and had already done so many horrible, unspeakable things. Your parents knew that if he ever found out that a child had been born, not only one so powerful as to have two very powerful blood heritages, but one of those bloodlines being Slytherin, that he'd be after you in a second. You see Harry, not only are you a threat to his power and the heir of Gryffindor, but you are an heir to Slytherin."

Lupin looked at Harry then with a gaze that was hard for him to decipher and spoke very quietly. "Your eyes Harry…so much like your mother's. Those green eyes have been a trademark of the Slytherin family since their beginning. There's a reason the symbol for Slytherin is a green serpent. The parsel-tongue, yes. But the green color was a symbol for those eyes."

Pieces of his life were beginning to fall into place, and Harry sat back as if he'd been punched in the chest and left wheezing for air. The sorting hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin…His ability to speak Parseltongue among the other similarities to Voldemort…His green eyes…(were Voldemort's eyes still green under that hideous red?)…The sword of Gryffindor…his parent's murders (all to get to him)…oh god, I'm related to Voldemort…

"So Voldemort wanted my parents dead because…"

"Because now there was the threat of there being two rightful heirs to Slytherin, and because you were destined to be so powerful. Voldemort knew he had to destroy you before you grew up to be so powerful that you could destroy him, and the work of the family name Slytherin. You see, Harry…it's all he's ever had to live for."

"I would never kill Muggle-borns…" groaned Harry sickly. "Oh god, Hermione…"

Dumbledore nodded quietly. "That's right, Harry."

Harry began to breathe even more shallowly, and Lupin forced his head down between his knees. "Breathe, Harry. I understand that this comes as quite a shock."

At once Harry shot from his chair, his face a mirror of trauma mixed with nausea. He backed away from Dumbledore and Lupin and gazed piercingly at them, as if they were both cracked.

"QUITE A SHOCK!?" He threw his arms up in the air and stumbled back a bit. "I'M SORRY BUT THE PHRASE 'QUITE A SHOCK' IS JUST A BIT UNDERSTATED FOR WHAT I'M FEELING!"

Lupin stood and held a hand out for him, but Harry once again looked at him like he'd gone round the bend and made a disgusted sound. "Please Harry. W…we're not finished here. Much as I…hate hurting you…" he choked on the last words, "There's more you need to know."

"More!" Choked Harry lividly as he made his way back to his chair and threw himself back down in it. "Merlin's beard…How much more could you have been keeping from me!? Did you not think I'd be upset!? Did you think it just wasn't relative to my life up until now!? DAMMIT!"

Harry clawed a hand through his hair and brought it to the back of his neck, rubbing harshly, a motion that made Lupin whiten even more, and stare back at the floor once again. So much like James…So much like…

Lupin sighed tremulously. "You're right, Harry. You have every right to be angry. But please know that all was done for you for your protection…a..and…out of love."

For a moment, Harry's eyes narrowed a bit in confusion as he looked at Lupin. Once again that unreadable expression crossed Remus' face, and once again, Harry failed to recognize it.

Lupin sagged at the look on Potter's face, but continued, albeit very quietly, so Harry almost had to strain to hear. "Harry…I…I've asked to be the one to train…to train you even further in the Advanced Dark Arts class, as you know. It's because…because I knew all of this…b..because…Oh god, Harry. I'm so proud of you. Of the young man you've become…"

Lupin at once drew Harry into a tight hug despite the younger man's look of befuddlement, but released him quickly. The screwed up look of pain on his professor's face was enough to make Harry's heart begin to skip beats again.

The older man drew back further and wiped his eyes without shame. "Harry…th..the night your parents…died, I…I…"

Dumbledore recognized that Lupin's throat had constricted to a point that he wasn't able to continue and the Headmaster stood, making his way to Remus and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Remus. I'll tell him."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Tell me what…"

"Harry…as you know, your parents secret keeper was changed over to Peter Pettigrew."

Harry's eyes flashed and narrowed at the name.

Dumbledore continued. "Right before Peter's betrayal, both Remus and James decided that he'd been acting suspiciously. Both decided in order to be sure of Pettigrew's loyalty, that some trickery might be in order. You see, James wanted to be the one to confront him about it, but Remus argued that Pettigrew would never give anything away to James directly. Remus had always been kinder and more sympathetic to Peter, so having decided that Remus might be the one to elicit information from him, he and James performed a switching spell.

James left that night in Remus body to confront Peter, but unbeknownst to him, the betrayal had already taken place. While Remus (actually James) was gone, Voldemort attacked…"

Harry began to shake violently and slowly turned his wide eyes to Lupin, who was now sobbing freely.

Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry, placing a hand on his knee and speaking softly. "When James, in Remus body returned after failing to find Peter, he found your mother and Lupin dead, and you in your cradle, crying…with that scar. He rushed you to Professor McGonnagol and I, and after a long discussion, we all decided that for your protection, we would leave you with Lily's only remaining relative…Petunia Dursley. I placed powerful defensive charms around that house Harry, but your mother had already given you a protection that neither I, nor any wizard could ever duplicate. The sacrifice of her life for yours."

As Harry sputtered and began choking on his own tears, more pieces began to fall into place. Remus middle initial was J…a J…had he changed it on purpose?…The way Remus seemed to react every time Harry had mentioned his parents…Lupin's paled, shocked face when Harry had told him he'd heard his mother's screaming voice after his meeting with the dementors in his third year…his reaction to Harry's patronus being a white stag…Just like his father…Just like his father…

Harry fought to sustain even breathing and spoke the first thing that came to his mind. "But h…how…how could you…leave me with them!? D…do you know what my life's been like with them!? If my f..father's been alive…all this time…god…GOD …"

James looked up to Harry with a tear stained face and reached a hand to him, but the younger man jerked violently away. Such a horrible look of betrayal was on his face that James had a hard time keeping the nausea that turned his stomach from making him vomit. "Harry, please…We knew that if Voldemort found you he would kill you as quickly as possible…especially if he found you with me. He'd suspect the switching spell if he saw us together. I'd never be able to act like I wasn't your father… We wanted to keep you from the wizarding world for as long as possible, to hide you from him as long as we could. To keep you away from me…to keep you safe…We had to wait until you were old enough, powerful enough to defend yourself. Oh god, Harry you don't know how hard it's been not to tell you…"

Harry stood, his face alarmingly white and began to stumble toward Dumbledore's door. Too much…I c..can't…I've got to get back to Hermione…I've got to…I need to…need her…

Dumbledore stood quickly as well, alarm settling on his wizened face as he recognized the look of shock on Harry's face. "James, I think he needs help…"

At the name James, Harry heard nothing more. His hand had just reached the doorknob when he found he couldn't see anymore. His vision had clouded over with black. That's odd… Suddenly he found his hearing was impaired as well, as if he were inside that ruddy box again. Can't hear…Don'twanttohearanymore… heardenough… He was falling. He found he didn't mind falling. Can I fall away from here? If only to get a moment's peace…to escape…Just need Hermione…Just need to escape…

Lupin jumped behind Harry and caught him with a large grunt, just before the younger man hit the floor.

17. Chapter 17: Realizations and a New Class

Chapter 17: Realizations and a New Class

All was dark, and Harry was numb. Not just the sort of numb felt in the legs when one has been sitting in the same position too long. He felt literally drained of any emotion from the inside out. His world, unstable at best, had just been given another great heave and turned completely upside down once again. On top of all of that, his eyes seemed glued closed, and he was unable to open them. It was as if he was fighting to travel toward some semblance of day, but could find nothing to guide him; no sliver of light in the black cave.

Strangely enough the visions in his head, brought on by events just an hour earlier, needed no light to play out in great detail before him.

Remus Lupin is my father…My father is inside his friend's body…I can't…don't want to believe it…Lied to me…everything was a lie…everyone lied to me…m..my god I'm related to Voldemort…related to Voldemort!…have to kill him…have to kill him…have to find Hermione…need her…

"Harry…"

The name was spoken so softly that Harry whirled around in his obscurity, unsure of whether he'd truly heard her or whether his mind was playing tricks on him.

"…Please wake up love…Please come back to me."

No mistaking…that was Hermione's voice. Great Merlin, she was better than light. He'd follow that voice and find day even if there was no day left to find.

As he followed her sound, slowly, Harry began to see his sliver of light, although with it came whitish flashes of pain residing somewhere behind his eyelids. But though it hurt to finally open his eyes, Harry saw Hermione's concerned face swimming fuzzily before him. It made it worth the effort.

" 'Mione," he croaked dryly, "Y'came to Dumbledore's office…Should be in bed…Y'should be in th' infirmary…"

Hermione smiled with relief and Harry realized then that she was reclining on his bed beside him. Hang on…his bed? How did he…

"No Harry, we're in our dorms," smiled Hermione as she stroked the hair from his forehead. "Don't you remember? You hit your head."

Harry turned his head briefly to see Ron's concerned face swimming before him, as his friend was perched on the other side of the bed. He vaguely heard Hermione telling Ron that he'd be fine now, and to get to his dorms and get some sleep. Ron nodded, and his tall blurry red-haired form patted Hermione companionably on the shoulder and exited his room.

H…hit my head…blacked out…Dream? Tell me it was a dream…"Mione …tell me it was a dream. Tell me you weren't in the infirmary. Tell me I wasn't in Dumbledore's office…Tell me that my father…my father didn't lie to me for sixteen years…" One year old when my mum and dad were killed…lied to me for sixteen years…I've needed him for sixteen years…

"Y…You're father?" Hermione felt her heart quicken and put her hand on Harry's cheek as he gazed up at her. "Harry I don't know what went on in Professor Dumbledore's office. All I know is that Ron and I were waiting for you to come back and it seemed hours later, Professor Lupin and Dumbledore came in levitating you behind them. He kept apologizing to Madame Pomfrey for letting you bump your head on the floor. He said he caught you but dropped you a minute later…seems you're a lot heavier than he thought. Ron and I had a right time convincing Madame Pomfrey to let you and I return to our dorms…" She finished with a searching look, and Harry dropped his gaze. "Harry, what happened outside? Did you find who sent the dark mark? And what happened in Dumbledore's office? When they came in with you, Lupin was sobbing. It scared Ron and I half to death! We thought he was crying over something awful that had happened to you." Tears began welling in Hermione's eyes and she swallowed harshly. "I don't ever want you to go running off like that again, Harry. You could have been…Harry, for a moment I thought you were…we thought you were d..de…I can't even say it."

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and her face twisted in an attempt to keep back the tears that once again threatened to fall. Harry raised a hand gently to her face. He could see that she'd been crying for some time.

"It's all right, love. Just a bump on the head." He smiled then to lighten the mood, although it was clear the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "Ironic isn't it? Guess you were right when you said what happens to me happens to you, and vice versa. I just wish it didn't have to be all of the physical stuff as well."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to smile at the joke and leaned closer to Harry's face, almost whispering. "Harry…Please tell me what happened tonight. And don't leave anything out. None of that skipping over parts so I won't be hurt in any way." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "And don't bother denying it. I know you too well."

Harry closed his mouth again and half-grimaced. She did know him too well. Although he would do anything to spare her any grief, even if it was over him, he also couldn't lie to her. He knew he was a terrible liar and he always had been. That's why when it became necessary he usually left it up to Ron.

Harry began slowly, leaving nothing out, and by the time he was finished, Hermione was shaking with shock beside him, her mouth forming a tremulous and distraught "O".

"M…my god Harry…My god…Are you…are you…" The suppressed look of pain on Harry's face hurt Hermione more than if he'd been yelling or screaming, and she found herself breaking down into sobs for him. Harry, who'd been trying to keep an even face throughout the whole telling, finally broke down as well, crying and choking as if his heart were shattering into a million pieces.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and the two of them cried together until the wee hours of the morning, until they had cried themselves into exhaustion and had fallen into a hard sleep.

By the time Ron came round to their dorms and knocked heavily on the door, it was a quarter of eleven the next morning. As it was a Saturday it didn't matter what the students did, but as neither Harry nor Hermione had shown up for breakfast, he was more than a little concerned.

The loud knocking woke Harry with a start, and he opened swollen eyes to find Hermione snuggled closely to him, an arm thrown over his stomach, her head on his bare chest, and her mouth slightly relaxed open in sleep. The knocking came again, more fervently this time, and Harry growled softly, agitatedly, and began carefully disentangling himself from Hermione. After fumbling around for his glasses and shoving them onto his face, he gently covered her with his blanket and padded wearily to the door, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair before opening it.

"Wonky knight," he heard Ron growling to Sir Cadogen. "Look, I don't know the password alright? But these are my friends and I need to know that they're safe…"

"Upon my word as a knight of King Arthur's court you shall not pass sir!" Harry heard the squeaky voice of Sir Cadogen reply. He heard a clang of armor as Cadogen must've fallen from his horse again. "And as you are determined to force my hand in the matter I shall have no other choice but to challenge you to a duel!"

Cadogen unsheathed his sword with a mighty heave that almost sent him toppling forward and rushed towards the end of his picture brandishing the blade and waving it to and fro, hopping up and down.

Ron scoffed in disbelief. "What the…You're bloody wonkers, you psycho!"

"Draw coward! Have at thee! Forward and fight! I shall skewer thee and leave thine entrails for the birds of prey!"

Ron sighed angrily. "Bloody hell."

Harry opened the door fully and poked his tousled head around it to look at the knight. "No duels today Sir Cadogen, he's welcome anytime. Ron, what is it? It's Saturday, mate. Hermione and I are both knackered."

Ron slumped against the frame of the door and sighed in relief. "I know it's Saturday. It's also almost Saturday afternoon you wanker. You and 'Mione didn't show up for breakfast, and after last night I got worried. Where is she by the way?"

Harry stepped aside and let Ron in. "Still sleeping. Been a long night you know…"

Ron started for a moment and then fixed Harry with wide accusing eyes. "Sleeping! Harry you let her sleep!? Remember Madame Pomfrey wanted her awake for twenty-four hours! Good lord, where is she!?"

A look of horror swept over Harry's features as he realized what he'd done. Of all of the selfish, shit-faced things to do…

Quickly he ran to his room and jumped on the bed, gently shaking Hermione by the shoulders. " 'Mione love, wake up. No sleeping right now…Wake up…"

Hermione pushed the hands on her shoulders away, irritated in sleep, and opened swollen eyes. "H'rry…Wha'…what're you…"

Ron took her hand and helped her sit up even as Hermione growled menacingly at him. "H'rry, Ron, please. Tired…need t' sleep, K?"

She began to slump back under the covers but Harry swiftly put an arm behind her back and dug under the covers to place the other one under her legs. He hoisted her up and set her down unsteadily on her feet, keeping an arm about her waist.

"Harry, what're you doing!?"

"Madame Pomfrey's orders, remember love? No sleep for twenty-four hours. God Hermione, I'm so sorry. I should've been watching you, not whinging on about my own problems…"

Hermione shook her head and walked into the common room to sit in front of the fire, Harry and Ron following.

"As you can see Harry, I'm fine. And what you're upset about most certainly isn't something you should've kept to yourself. Besides if you had, I would've hexed you into next winter."

"Hang on," said Ron suddenly, sitting up and peering steadily at Harry. "Does this have to do with last night? Harry tell me what happened."

It was more of a demand than a request, and Harry had no choice but to tell him. Truth be told, he needed Ron to know everything as well. He'd never been able to keep anything from him, or from Hermione, and he'd figured out long ago that it was much better to include them than to go through things alone.

Ron's reaction mirrored Hermione's almost exactly, although he didn't cry. True to his nature, his face reddened and he sniffled almost imperceptibly, turning halfway away from them as if he found something hanging on the wall of particular interest.

"Bloody hell. Professor Lupin? Your dad?…Bloody hell! Th…that…I don't know what to say, mate. That must've been hell on you. But your dad's alive. He's alive! You have him back! Truthfully I don't understand why you're not with him right now trying to learn everything you can about him…"

"Ron, I never lost him. Don't you see?" Harry's throat began to constrict painfully again and he fought the tears tooth and nail. He was done crying. "He never really died. But he and Dumbledore, and Professor McGonnagol for that matter let me believe that he did. He lied to me, Ron. For seventeen years he's been here, and he's left me alone. I just…I can't understand that."

Hermione sighed, a fresh set of tears brimming in her eyes, and spoke softly although her gaze stayed glued to the orange fire in the hearth. "Harry, they did it for your protection. I know you understand that. As much as it must hurt, they had no other choice. If Voldemort found out that your father was still alive, which apparently he did, he'd have found you so much easier if you'd been with him. As it was, he'd have never thought to look for the most powerful wizard child in the world among Muggles. And Dumbledore placed powerful protective wards around the house until you turned eleven, and of course, even now…until you were to come to Hogwarts and be watched over here. They just wanted you protected from the wizarding world for as long as possible."

When Harry replied, his voice was hoarse with bitterness. "Hermione, I would've much rather had one day with my father, than a lifetime of safety. Don't you understand that? All of my life, up until I met you and Ron, I've been alone. People surrounded me, and yet I was alone. I needed him. I needed him so badly, and he could've been here. Instead he waits until I'm bloody seventeen to tell me he's still around…"

Ron sat forward then and spoke in a hard voice full of wisdom that somehow surprised both Hermione and Harry. It wasn't that Ron had no intelligence; far from it. But somehow he'd always been relied on to be the light one. The one that most of the time, pulled Harry and Hermione from the heaviness of reality and made them smile for a bit; made them realize that laughter was a part of life too. But today, Ron was all sage.

"Harry, don't you realize that it was just as hard, if not harder for your father to give you up, than to be with you? In a way, he sacrificed his life to keep you safe, mate. He'd just lost his wife, and now he was losing his son. But mate, he chose to do it to keep you safe; to save your life. I know it must be hard to forgive him and even to take all of this in, but Harry you have to try. I know my father would've done the same thing for me. You should be thankful you have a dad that loves you so much. What your dad did for you, that's unselfish love, Harry. It's unconditional love."

Hermione pushed away the astonishment she felt at Ron's eloquent words and nodded. "It's a father's love, Harry."

Harry sat for a long moment staring into the fire, not answering, his whole body slumped with emotional exhaustion. No one had ever promised life would be easy. There were no guarantees the journey would bring happiness, just others to travel with you if you were lucky. He was indeed fortunate to have such a selfless father…and for that matter two such wonderful people as Hermione and Ron to trek life's road with. Yes, there'd been too much shocking information given to him at once, too many heavy revelations to have to process, but once again, he would find a way to deal with it. And keeping the people who loved him close somehow always made the blows much softer.

Hermione moved from the end of the couch to sit closely to Harry and laid her head on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers and kissing it briefly. Finally, wordlessly Harry nodded in quiet agreement. Ron and Hermione, knowing Harry enough to know that companionable silence was best for now, kept mute and let him think, getting lost in their own thoughts as well.

******************************************

The rest of the weekend passed too quickly for Harry's comfort as he'd resolved for the remainder of it to hide out in his and Hermione's dorms until Monday; until he'd figured out some way of handling the disconcerting revelations and approaching his father.

He found his throat constricting over and over with different emotions; emotions he couldn't quite make himself understand. Grief, joy, bitterness, betrayal, rejection and even loneliness (?) seemed to pound away in his veins at every turn. He felt as if his spirit had been torn in two. On one hand, he was heart-poundingly overjoyed at having his father back after having believed him dead for all of this time. What normal person wouldn't be thrilled at having such a miracle dropped as if from God right into his lap?

On the other hand Harry was terrified, and this was yet another feeling he was unable to resolve with himself. He'd only ever known bits and pieces of his father; pieces that even as of yet he'd been unable to put together to form a complete picture of the man. Truthfully, he'd never really had a father, and had no clue as to how to have a relationship with one, especially with the circumstances surrounding this particular father/son connection. Would more resentments begin to surface? Would they be awkward and distant with each other? How could they just pick up and act like father's and son's act (which was what, exactly?) when they were little more than strangers to each other?

Harry was also suffering from little pangs of guilt that seemed to interject themselves into his thoughts without warning. Without really meaning too, he sometimes felt he had enough to deal with without the added complications of Lupin turning out to be his father, James. Every time that thought tried to creep into his head Harry mentally raged at himself for it, feeling as if there should be no forgiveness for someone like him. After all, how many other sons and daughters that had lost parents would give all that they had to have even one more day with them?

So all in all, Harry spent the remainder of his weekend confused and filled with such guilt that even Hermione's usual words of wisdom did nothing to lighten his heart.

***************************************

Ron had returned to his dorms and had met with a fuming Ginny who insisted that he be flayed alive for not coming back immediately to tell her how Harry and Hermione were. As it was now late Sunday afternoon, the whole school had heard what had happened Friday night save for the conversation between Harry, James, and Dumbledore.

After having seen Harry safely to the infirmary with his father, Dumbledore had immediately withdrawn himself and James from the room and had called an emergency meeting with all of the teachers to discuss the dark mark. Much to Lupin's relief, Dumbledore had had the foresight not to mention his true identity. The Headmaster had felt that it was not his place to reveal it to anyone and that when the elder Mr. Potter felt the time was right, he would divulge the secret. Besides the glaring fact that if Voldemort were to find out that James was here at Hogwarts it might make him even more determined to start his final battle. Having the elder Potter near his son, in Voldemort's eyes, would intensify the threat that Harry might find out his true identity. That was the last thing that Voldemort wanted. After all, knowledge truly was power.

Once again, new rules were put into place. Students were to be in their common rooms no later than eight o'clock in the evening, and no one else, not parents, not Ministry officials, no one was to be allowed onto Hogwarts grounds until the perpetrator of the dark mark was found. Although Dumbledore had a great idea who it had been, nothing could be proven, as Hermione had told Madame Pomfrey that her attackers face had been covered with a hood.

The theft of the time turner greatly disturbed the faculty of Hogwarts as well. Not one witch or wizard could for the life of them figure out what Lucius or Voldemort would want with it, as it's power extended only as far back as a year or two. Also, the consequences of using it even as far back as that period of time might be even more dire than to have not used it at all. Even so, there was nothing to be done for it at the present time. There were no witnesses save Hermione who could identify no one, and no evidence with which to press charges. Dumbledore could try telling the Ministry to keep a close watch on Lucius Malfoy, but they all knew what a great lot of good that would do since Malfoy had the entire Ministry and especially Cornelius Fudge, folded neatly into his wealthy back pocket.

So, Dumbledore had concluded, the school would need to be put on double alert where security was concerned. The teachers would take turns along with Argus Filch, the caretaker, patrolling the hallways at night and making sure that all students were properly stowed for the evening.

Quidditch was still to go on as planned, but every game was to be presided over very carefully, as well as every practice, and students were to come immediately inside afterwards. The Yule Ball, which was to commence in two months time, was also to go on as planned, but students were to be prohibited from wandering school grounds during said event. On and on the list went, with this and that activity either completely prohibited, or to be chaperoned at all times.

With the delivery of bad tidings usually came an unending amount of unhappy students, so each house head groaned appropriately when the time came to go to each of their houses and read out the new list of school rules. As always, they were to be posted like a death warrant above the mantle of the fireplaces in each common room, and McGonnagol was no exception to the line of teachers dreading the task.

Of course the worst thing by far was the announcement that all Hogsmeade visits were cancelled this year, especially for the sixth and seventh years, who complained repeatedly about last chances to visit. But with her usual unbending sternness, McGonnagol explained thoroughly that it was for their own protection, and left them to grumble amongst themselves.

Ginny particularly was livid, as Malfoy had actually asked her in a roundabout way to go with him next weekend, although he had made sure to do it when no other Slytherins were watching. She smiled to herself. At least she had finally made him admit, although with exact words, that he'd been jealous of she and Seamus.

(A/N: I know this is where I messed up before and put Ginny in a seventh year potions class, but it fits with my story so now I have to go with it. Please forgive me! =0/)

She smiled as she thought briefly back to the glares of death Draco had been shooting Finnegan at every moment possible from the moment she'd begun flirting with him in Potions. It was, she admitted, a dirty, low-down thing to do, but as the old Muggle saying went, 'all's fair in love and war.' And war it was. It had taken Draco a month of handholding, whispering, giggling, oh-we-just-happened-to-run-into-Draco-while-snogging-in-the-hallway's with Seamus for the Slytherin to finally corner her yesterday afternoon as she was headed outside to enjoy a fresh Saturday afternoon with her friend Michelle Garroty.

Shell was a redhead too, although her hair was decidedly more of a flaming cherry than Ginny's auburn hue, and very inch of her body was covered in large brown freckles rather than the light dusting Ginny owned. Early on she had earned the nickname Carroty, which she loathed in every way possible. This resulted, of course, in most students at Hogwarts calling her exactly that, especially the Slytherin.

As it was, that afternoon, Ginny had just finished reassuring Shell that she was sure the slightly younger girl's hair would darken into a lovely auburn hue when Malfoy happened upon both of them.

He had approached them in his usual abrupt manner and looked directly at Ginny.

…happens to be very tall and very blonde and very sexy…Nonononono…keep it together Ginny…

"Beat it Shell. I need to speak to Ginny."

Shell narrowed her eyes in disgust. "What makes you think Ginny wants to speak to you?"

Malfoy eyed her finally with annoyance. "Don't remember needing your permission. Now wait outside like a good little carrot. I promise to send her back to you shortly."

Shell huffed angrily and prepared to walk away, but Ginny grabbed her arm as an afterthought before her friend could get away. "Never mind that, Shell. Whatever Malfoy has to say to me he can say in front of both of us. Can't you, Draco?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and raised his eyebrows. "All right…What's going on with you and Finnegan?"

Ginny crossed her arms and turned to her friend. "Shell, would you wait outside for me?"

Michelle dropped her shoulders in exasperation but shrugged. "Whatever you want. I don't care." She walked outside without another word and Draco turned to Ginny.

"Changed your mind rather quickly, didn't you?"

"I have the right," Ginny replied saucily. "So, repeat the question? Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

Draco lowered his brows in annoyance. The brat could be so irritating. "Finnegan…ring a bell? Seems you and he've been playing rather heavily at tonsil hockey for the past couple of weeks."

Ginny smiled humorlessly. "Nice." She crossed her arms once again and gave him a challenging look. "I've never known you to be interested in anything I do. What changed your mind?"

Draco smirked. "I have the right."

"So you do," said Ginny smoothly, ignoring the irritation she felt at receiving one good turn for another. She walked around him quickly and began to saunter outside, flipping her long red hair and swinging her hips a little more than was necessary.

Draco had to smirk, although rather grudgingly, at her retreating form. She was good. "Where you heading, Red? We're not through here."

Ginny turned around sharply and leered at him. "Whether or not we are, I also have the right to leave your rather 'unasked' questions unanswered. And I'm not in the habit of abandoning my friends for very long so unless there was anything else…"

Draco slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe and with chin down, grinned again; that wickedly sultry grin that made him look like he was up to no good. Ginny found some of her confidence beginning to slip. Nonono…I will NOT let him get to me that way, the miserable prat…

"Well, I did have one more thing to ask you, Red. That is if Finnegan will let you. I realize you might have to ask his permission."

That did it. Ginny's face burned as brightly as her hair and a look of fury replaced the twisted smile. Unconsciously she balled her hands into fists, a move that Draco found oddly sexy. "ASK HIS PERMISSION!? You mean as if he OWNS me!? We aren't even going together for Merlin's sake and even if we were NO ONE OWNS ME. Not Seamus, not Ron, no one…"

Draco barked out a harsh laugh which stopped Ginny right in the middle of her ranting. He'd hit a nerve and he knew it. "See Red? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Ginny blinked, confused for a moment, and began running through her last words, muttering under her breath. She finally realized what she'd confessed and flushed again, simultaneously annoyed and embarrassed. "Well you did it. Got the truth from me, did you? Two points to you. Congratulations."

She whirled around to walk away but Draco laughed again, this time much softer and took a few quick steps to stop her. When his hand grabbed hold of her arm and turned her back round, the resulting unseen current that seemed to pass from one to the other, confused Draco much more than it did Ginny. Although she flushed from the contact and looked surprised, Draco seemed nonplussed. The flash traveled through his chest to settle somewhere in his abdomen and continue to flutter. It confounded him. He spent the next few seconds staring down at the hand that had just served as a conductor.

Ginny breathed out the next sentence as if she'd just run the hundred-yard dash. "Somethingelseyouwanted?"

Draco stuttered out the next few words and mentally punched himself for it. C'mon Draco pull it together, damn it! Malfoy's don't get flustered… "I…wanted to tell you to meet with me for Hogsmeade next weekend. Just for kicks and shits, of course. You know…need someone to argue with…amuse me…decent at it for a Weasley…"

Ginny swallowed thickly. In a half-arsed, roundabout, Malfoy-like way, Draco had just asked her out, and she'd been totally unprepared for it. "Well…Of course I will. After all, Seamus doesn't own me. No one does!" There you go…act like it's a challenge…keep your cool…my god does he have to have such stormy gray eyes…

Draco stood to his full height then, all flustration gone. "Ok then, I'll meet you at seven by the carriages…And Red, wear something nice for god's sake. Malfoy's aren't seen with ragamuffins."

Completely unmoved, Ginny replied tartly. "I will if you will. And if you'll attend to personal hygiene for the love of Merlin I might be tempted not to ditch you the moment we get there."

Malfoy inclined his head sarcastically at her, gave her a mock salute and began to walk away, but his last thoughts were less than insulting. She'd look good dressed as a house elf, damn her…

Ginny stumbled outside wringing her hands nervously as she scanned the grounds for Shell. The bastard always smelled good enough to eat…

Ginny shook her head to rid herself of the mental projection. Well it was screwed all to bloody hell now. No more Hogsmeade weekends.

******************************************

As Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way from Potions to the last class of the day on Monday, Harry found himself even more disheartened than usual after the hateful encounter with Snape. They were headed to the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and this was the first time since his confrontation the weekend past with Lupin in Dumbledore's office that he would be facing him. Along with that came the fact that he was to stay after for more training; just he and the professor, alone. Harry's body was so abuzz with nerves that he literally felt the vibration traveling throughout his veins, making his body shake and his heart flutter madly.

Hermione and Ron were unconsciously walking on either side of him as if to reassure him that he was not alone, and they both continued to send him furtive glances until Hermione could no longer take the look of dread on his face.

"Harry." She spoke softly, like the whisper of a breeze, and Harry closed his eyes momentarily, letting the sound of it wash soothingly over him. "He loves you. No matter what…"

Ron said nothing but nodded in agreement and patted his friends shoulder awkwardly. He'd never been good at the whole 'comfort' thing, but he was nothing if not caring and trustworthy to the end. Harry gave him a thankful smile and they resumed walking, Harry doing his best not to seem like he was making his way to the electric chair.

As they entered the class, Harry was eternally grateful that Snape had chosen to let them out a few minutes late as the other students that had been chosen by their heads of houses had already all seemed to arrive.

The three chose seats towards the back of the class, and Lupin, who still had his back turned to the full room, was apparently rearranging some things on his desk. If he had seen them file in the back he'd made no indication of it.

Inwardly, Harry wondered how he could have expected it to be any other way…after all, what was his father to do in the middle of a class? He began to relax a bit, and settled back into his chair, realizing that at least he had a good hour before the disconcerting one on one confrontation with him was to begin.

He began to notice with a quick glance around him what students had been selected. Gryffindor had quite a few, really more that any other house. In fact, all of the seventh years had been selected, and a few of the sixth years. Ginny was one of them, and as Harry glanced at Ron, he saw that his friend seemed none to keen on the idea of her being selected. He knew that Ron was overly protective where his baby sister was concerned, but McGonnagol and Dumbledore had obviously had a reason for choosing her to participate. He suspected it had something to do with the elder Weasley's being part of the Order of the Phoenix, and the fact that the Weasley children might be in more danger than some because of it.

Curiously, Malfoy had been the only one chosen from Slytherin, a fact that didn't seem to escape anyone's attention as many of the other students were gazing at the blonde boy as well. Apparently, Draco took this as a sign of great importance and looked smug, as always.

There were only four Ravenclaws that Harry recognized, and two Hufflepuffs. He turned to Hermione to comment on the odd number from each of the houses, but as usual, she seemed to have already formed a theory on it.

"So what'd you think about the numbers represented here?" Whispered Harry curiously. "Especially with there being only one Slytherin…"

Ron sneered. "One too many if you ask me."

Hermione sighed with tolerance and eyed them. "Isn't it obvious?"

Ron flushed with impatience. "Apparently not."

"Well as far as Gryffindor are concerned, we were all chosen for our house by the sorting hat because of our sense of bravery," said Hermione, " and a lot of us, especially where Harry and Neville are concerned have had quite a few run-ins with dark magic in our lifetimes, haven't we? As for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, I’m not sure…"

"I'm shocked," cut in Ron sarcastically. Hermione shot him a filthy look.

"As I was saying…I'm not sure about those two, but as for Malfoy being the only Slytherin chosen for this class, I should think it would be obvious."

Harry paused waiting for her to continue, but when she just kept looking at them, he sighed patiently. "Love, since it's not obvious, fill us in, would you?"

Once again, Hermione smiled long-sufferingly at them. "Well it's as Ron said back in our first year, isn't it? There's not a witch or wizard who's gone bad that didn't come from that house. And since I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't want a load of overly trained dark wizards running about, he probably whittled Snape's list down to only one."

Harry gave a half-smile at that. "If that's true I'm sure he's furious about it."

"I'll just bet he is," said Hermione thoughtfully, "After all, he already thinks Dumbledore favors Gryffindor house above all others…especially since you're in it," she said, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry gave her a disbelieving look. "I'm not so sure on that…"

Ron hissed with dissatisfaction. "But if he were going to choose one Slytherin, O' swotty sage," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "Why for the love of Merlin would he choose Malfoy!? Harry's told him that his father is a Death Eater, and it's pretty certain that he's the one that attacked you this past weekend. I mean really…He'd have to be completely nutters to do that! Like father, like son, right!?"

Even Hermione had to admit that that one had her stumped. "I don't know. But I’m sure he has his reasons…"

Harry humphed and slumped back down into his seat. He'd felt on more than one occasion that Dumbledore's decisions weren't always spot on. As for what Malfoy would choose to do with his extra training, well, it remained to be seen.

At that moment, Malfoy turned from his slumped position in his seat nearer the front to sneer at Harry and Ron, with Hermione resolutely ignoring him as usual, but Harry found that he had too much else on his mind to respond. Ron however had none of the same hang-ups. He'd been even more disgusted with the Slytherin than usual because of his attempts to talk to Ginny on the initial carriage ride to the school, so he gave him a filthy snarl and raised his wand ever so slightly in a threatening manner. Malfoy simply smiled as if he'd just glanced at the mentally challenged and after sharing more looks of hate with Ron, he turned to glance ever so slightly towards Ginny.

She caught his eye quickly, and something passed between the two that made Ron distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't like, he was certain, but it certainly wasn't hate either, and he felt his blood instantly begin to boil. Both Harry and Hermione couldn't help but notice either, and they managed to grab both of Ron's arms just as he began to rise menacingly from his seat. It had been just in time too, because Lupin chose that moment to finally turn his attention to the class.

"Good afternoon," he said simply. There was a distinct lack of any type of tool or book behind him, and Harry began to wonder exactly what they were to do in his class. He didn't have long to wonder.

"I assume by now you've noticed that we have very little in this classroom that you might associate with an advanced class. We have no textbooks, no tools, nothing out of the ordinary. There's a good reason for it."

With a swift whirl that made him look almost like a blur, he whipped around toward the first person his wand pointed to in the room, a tall dark Ravenclaw boy named Castor Eustance, and quickly uttered a spell.

"Exarmonato!"

Immediately, Castor's wand flew from his hand and at the same time, he was quickly thrown up and backward to levitate in a back corner of the room.

The class quickly began muttering amongst themselves, amazed at what had just been done. Completely unscathed, Castor managed to mutter a 'Cool' under his breath, while at the same time wiggling his arms and legs in midair slightly, smiling at the feeling of nothingness beneath him.

Satisfied, Lupin turned his attention back to the class. "Who can tell me what I've just done?"

Malfoy, who'd always hated Lupin, gave him a snotty look. "What kind of question is that!? It's pretty clear. You caught him off guard, that's what…levitated him."

"Very astute, Mr. Malfoy but you're missing something…" said Lupin with no trace of malice in his voice. "Anyone else?"

"You've disarmed him," piped up Neville, staring at Castor in the back of the classroom.

Lupin sighed and muttered "Degravo." Castor began to slowly lower to the floor until he was replaced gently on his feet. Lupin gestured him with his wand to return to his seat and handed the boy back his wand. "There's something else. Something you've all missed."

Hermione looked up at him. "You've performed two spells at once. You've disarmed and suspended him."

"That's right!" said Lupin enthusiastically. The rest of the class seemed to ponder on it for a moment and finally realized she was right. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry beamed at her before turning his attention back towards the front.

"Now," continued Lupin, "what was my purpose in showing you that?…To demonstrate to you one of the objectives for this class. Our first lesson is for you to remember the double D's…disarm, and disable. In defending yourselves against dark magic, one of the first things you want to learn is how best to disarm and disable your opponent. If you're able to catch your opponent off-guard enough to end the battle with a spell such as the one I just showed you, more's the better for you.

Dark magic can be much more powerful than regular magic. Why? Because along with it comes the power of emotion. Do you all remember before you came to Hogwarts? How sometimes in particularly emotional situations, situations in which you were feeling extreme happiness, sadness, or anger, you were able to perform a bit of wandless magic?"

Harry thought back to the time he and Dudley had been staring into the same python cage at the zoo. After Dudley had knocked him onto the ground and out of his way, Harry had somehow made the glass separating the snake from the outside world disappear. After Dudley had fallen into the snake's homemade habitat, the glass had replaced itself, leaving a terrified Dudley face to face with the serpent. Harry had fantasized an awful lot growing up that maybe if Dudley'd been stuck in there for just a few minutes more, he could've at least lost a limb. Such was luck…he smiled.

Lupin continued. "Emotion is very powerful in any human, but its power is doubled in a wizard. Coupled with great ability, emotion can push one's power well beyond that of the ordinary wizard. Therefore, it's most helpful if you're able in situations where you might be faced with dark magic, to first try disarming and disabling your opponent. There are quite a few advanced defensive spells that you've yet to be taught. It's my intention to start with these."

"And will we be taught to actually perform and defend ourselves against some of the more heinous spells, Professor?" Piped up Malfoy a little more sarcastically than was needed. "Being able to perform two spells at once is impressive, but assuming that doesn't work, what in hell're we supposed to do then?"

Dean Thomas spoke up as well. "No offence professor, but I wonder that as well. It's all well and good if we catch them off guard, but…"

"Defensive spells are only one part of our class," said Lupin calmly. "Of course I’m going to teach you counter-curses as well, but as it's my class…and it's better to start something at the beginning, how about we try it my way?"

Dean slumped a little sheepishly into his seat, while Malfoy continued to stare supremely unaffected at Lupin, only giving a slight snort in reply.

Ron reddened with anger and spoke quietly. "Bloody git. He'd do better to keep his ruddy mouth shut and his ears open. That is of course, unless he decides to follow in daddy's footsteps…"

Hermione made a harsh shushing gesture at him, but Harry looked at him with concern. "Let's hope not, mate. I think your sister's rather taken a shine to him. I'd hate for her to be hurt."

Ron flushed again, this time right to the tips of his ears. His eyes blazed with fury, and Harry took it as a sign that he might've waited until after class to drop that particular bomb on him. "Oh don't worry, Harry. He won't hurt her. That's a promise."

Harry saw Ron tighten the grip he had on his wand, and grimaced. Hermione widened her eyes at him in disbelief, but Harry merely shrugged. He'd thought it would have been obvious to Ron a while ago what was going on. Even in the Great Hall, the two continually snuck looks at each other through every meal. Ginny looked smitten, and Malfoy, well…suffice it to say he didn't look particularly hateful.

The rest of the class continued with little other distractions until toward the very end. Lupin paired them all off and had them try the spell on each other, making sure to pair each student with one from an opposite house so that they would be sure to work to their fullest potential without extra worry for their opponents.

He, in turn, watched every pair perform the spell, giving them a countdown of three to see who could perform it the quickest. "After all," he conceded to them, "A spell is only as effective as the speed of the spell giver."

All went smoothly until he came upon Harry, who was unfortunately paired with Malfoy. The rest of the class watched as Lupin began the countdown.

Harry and Malfoy stood tautly opposite one another, wands down and to their sides as Lupin had instructed them, and looks of supreme concentration with a touch of loathing on each of their faces. Harry was reminded of the dueling club that Lockhart had saddled them all with in their second year…

"Ready then? Three…two…"

True to his nature, Malfoy raised his wand to strike before the countdown had completed, intent on embarrassing the "golden-boy", and Harry was almost caught off-guard. He felt a white-hot flash of fury go through him at Malfoy and immediately, he dropped his wand without even realizing it and waved his arm in front of him, palm outward.

"Exarmonato!"

Instantly, Malfoy's wand shot out of his hand like a missile, landing in Harry's other, and the Slytherin was thrown in the direction of Harry's outstretched arm, and then upward, slamming against the ceiling much harder than Eustance had done.

It took a moment of complete and utter stunned silence from the classroom for Harry to realize what he'd done. He lowered the offending hand slowly and turned it over, looking at it as if he'd never seen his own arm before. The whole class stared at him in utter bewilderment, and then in fear, and began to back away from him as one.

Even Malfoy himself seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and Harry couldn't figure out whether it was shock, or whether he'd knocked the wind from him.

Only Ron and Hermione remained near him, both looking startled, but not near as much as the rest of the class.

Ron's widened eyes rested on Harry, who looked almost as astounded as the rest of them. When he spoke, the redhead sounded almost reverently quiet. "Bloody hell, mate. I wondered when you'd be able to do it again, but I never expected…" he trailed off silently.

Hermione just kept her eyes glued to Harry, a mixture of surprise and reassurance settling in their caramel depths. For that, Harry was eternally grateful.

He turned his gaze upwards to Malfoy, who still resembled a fish, and then to Lupin, whose gaze reflected surprise and pride. "I…I'm sorry, I don't know why…or how rather…I mean…I..I don't know how that happened."

After a few more moments of complete silence, Lupin turned calmly towards the class. "That's enough for today. You're only homework is to practice the spell. I want it perfect by the end of this week. Dismissed."

The class began filing out, disconcertingly quiet. A few whispers filtered out of the crowd of students, but mostly, silence reigned. It unnerved Harry. He'd had his fill over the years of students thinking he was dangerous and unstable, and he certainly could've done without this.

Lupin released Malfoy, and then motioned Ron and Hermione out as well, reminding them of Harry's extended class time. They left reluctantly, promising him that they'd meet him in the main common room before leaving for the Great Hall for dinner.

When the classroom was finally empty, Lupin finally turned to Harry.

"Well…you've certainly surprised me. Suffice it to say there'll be no easy way to start this. I know you have a lot of anger towards me right now, Harry, and by no means do I think I'm undeserving of it. But I have a proposal. For right now, let's just concentrate on our tasks, and leave the talking for later. What I'm about to practice with you needs to be the only thing on your mind right now. Do you understand? Do we have a deal?" Lupin hesitated for a moment, and then shakily stuck out his hand.

Harry surveyed him for a moment, his brain feeling like it was on overload, and then slowly took his father's hand in his.

18. Chapter 18:Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing

Chapter 18: Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing

Lupin had enlisted Harry's aid in moving all of the desks to one side of the large classroom, and the task had been done in a reasonably comfortable silence. But now that the job had been completed and Harry stood facing his father, the awkwardness of the situation seemed to ease back in between them like a tangible physical presence. Lupin decided quickly to begin right away to avoid the inevitable tension beginning to sneak up on them once again. He turned from Harry's penetrating gaze to stride around his desk and picked up an oblong, heavy metal object, tossing it to Harry and apparently finding one for himself as well. Harry caught it by the handle easily, and began turning it over and over in his hands.

"Recognize that?" Lupin smiled in a business-like way at him.

Harry frowned in surprise as he studied the engravings on the blade. " 'Course I do…Godric's sword. I used it back in second year against a basilisk in the chamber of secrets. Where did you…" Harry let the question trail off as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand. It seemed lighter than the heaviness he'd encountered in the chamber; but then again, he'd been a scrawny boy of twelve.

"Dumbledore gave it back to me," said Lupin with a hint of loss and regret in his voice. "I'd left it with him…to give to you one day. I inherited it from my father. You're grandfather."

Harry looked up from the sword quickly and hefted it from his left hand to his right, hesitating momentarily. "Oh…of…of course you did. Well then…I reckon this is yours, isn't it?" He made as if to hand the sword back to Lupin, but the elder Potter raised his hand with a declining gesture.

"No Harry…It's yours now. I would have passed it on to you by now anyway if…if we'd been…"

Harry swallowed. "I know. You don't have to explain…I know."

A few more painful moments of silence passed, and Harry made as if he was carefully studying the sword to keep from looking into his father's face. A dull ache resided in his chest and pulsed somewhere below his Adam's apple before he realized that he was trying to hold back tears. The only time he could remember feeling as much misery as he did now was the time Voldemort's servant, Kavan, had taken Hermione. Back then, it had been coupled with a boiling rage, helping to keep the tears at bay most of the time. As for now though, all he felt was a dull, hollow ache with nothing else to serve as a buffer. In a word, it made him uncomfortable.

He began fidgeting even more with the sword until Lupin's strong voice cut through the silence.

"Harry, there's something you should know."

Harry looked up with a sudden flash of anger. "Oh gods, more secrets!?"

"No!" said Lupin quickly, "Not exactly. Just listen to me…The night Hermione was attacked, the night of the dark mark, something else happened. Something to me as well."

He had Harry's full attention now, and he decided as an explanation, to simply move nearer to his son and pull up the sleeve of his robe. Harry gave a small grunt of surprise as he saw a long jagged scar that had obviously been just recently healed. The wide, slightly wrinkled line was an angry red, and began from Lupin's elbow, almost down to his wrist.

"What…what the hell…" Harry sputtered.

Lupin grimaced as he let his sleeve fall back into place. "Hermione's attacker, Harry, stunned me…got to me first. Funny thing is if he'd cut just a little farther, I might have bled to death, slit wrist and all. Pomfrey was able to heal me properly, and after, I went to find Dumbledore. He sent the rest of the teachers to search the school for the man, and he and I met to discuss possible reasons behind the attack. The rest you know…" Lupin hesitated as he studied the younger man before him. "Harry, we think he meant to take some of my blood. That he did take some of it."

"You!?" Harry asked with astonishment. "What would Voldemort want with your blood!?"

Lupin backed from him a bit to take in his son's full form. Harry was standing before him tall and strong, but he held Godric's long sword limply to his side, the long silver tip grazing the floor. He understood Harry's disbelief. "Think Harry. When was the last time you remember Voldemort needing someone's blood?"

Harry thought, and then shuddered. It wasn't often that he allowed his mind to revisit the events of his fourth year. In fact, he'd done all he could to purge them entirely from his thoughts…at least in the waking hours. His dreams were another matter entirely…

"At the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago," Harry began unsteadily. "After he…after he killed Cedric Diggory and tied me against his father's grave, he sliced my arm and took some of my b…" Harry trailed off, and his voice lowered to a quieter tone. "I don't understand. What're you trying to tell me…"

"Harry," began Lupin, making a conscious effort to keep his voice controlled and strong, "where were you about fifteen minutes before Hermione left the common room and was attacked recently? Can you remember?"

"Still there…in the common room," replied Harry quickly, "McGonnagol had come in about twenty minutes prior to let us know who had been chosen for your advanced class. After, she let everyone else go but me; said she had more to talk to me about…"

"That explains it then," ruminated Lupin quietly. "He couldn't get to you, so he took blood from me."

Harry was beginning to get aggravated and made a conscious choice to let Lupin know. "Could you please elaborate? I'm failing to get the point."

Lupin turned to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, you'll learn I often get lost in my own thoughts from time to time. What I'm getting at is… Dumbledore and I believe that if he could've, Voldemort's servant would have attacked you that evening, Harry. Since you were not only surrounded by others, but also safe inside Gryffindor's common room, he took the blood from me. It makes sense. Surely he already has the bone of his father, easy enough to come by, and I’m certain it wouldn't be hard for him to come by the flesh of a servant…"

Harry felt his head beginning to spin. "If you're implying what I think you are, it makes no sense. If Voldemort needed my blood to get his body back, how would yours be a substitute for mine?"

Lupin turned to him, an unreadable expression playing on his features. "Harry, I know you remember the dark incantation he uttered then, don't you? Dumbledore's told me about it…"

Harry fell back a step as the vision of his encounter with the dark lord and Wormtail came flashing into his mind. "I try every night to forget…" he uttered with the tone of someone haunted.

As if it were a movie that had been merely put on pause, Harry's mind quickly replayed the events of that night, and the chilling words that had been spoken. Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…

Lupin felt his heart drop into his stomach, and his soul bled for all of the times he wished he could've been there for his son. The boy had seen too much, endured way beyond what a lad of seventeen years ought to…

"Harry," he began with an emotional throb to his voice, "long before you were Voldemort's enemy, there was Lily and I. Your mother and I were Aurors, part of the Order of the Phoenix, and we, above all the others went after Voldemort the hardest. Dumbledore's told me you know all about that. We believe that Voldemort must know by now of the switching spell Remus and I performed. So, he'd have no other more perfect substitute for your blood…than the blood of your father."

Lupin watched as Harry struggled to take in the new bit of information and to reconcile what he'd just said with what Harry himself already knew.

"Hang on," said Harry after a pause, "That just doesn't make sense though. After all, it's not really your blood, is it? It's Remus Lupin's."

"It's not actually the blood, or the body itself that counts in the incantation, Harry. It's the fact that in this body now resides the spirit and soul, the wholeness if you will, of James Potter. The heir to Gryffindor…that is, before you were born. Now the honor rests with you. You see, Gryffindor and Slytherin have been great enemies ever since the houses fought against each other so long ago for what each considered to be the best for the school. Since Voldemort considers himself the ultimate defender of Slytherin's heritage, he's determined to keep the grudge to the bitter end. See Harry, I'm still his enemy, and this body and blood now belong to me. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" Lupin paused to let his words sink in and then continued.

"Although I'm still rather stumped about the time turner, I believe Voldemort now has every ingredient he needs to get his body back. After all, he left a final warning the night of the dark mark, didn't he?"

Harry blanched. He hadn't thought that night, in his unbridled fury, to try to translate the Latin phrase placed so ominously below the dark mark. "I…I never found out what the phrase meant."

" 'Tempus id est propinguo', Harry. It means, 'The time is drawing near'."

********************************************

In all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, even in the years between when he'd been conspicuously absent from his master's dealings, Lucius Malfoy had thought he'd seen it all. He'd been witness to, and been involved in countless dark dealings; some more nefarious than others.

He'd seen Ministry members bribed, used and tossed away like garbage. He'd helped deal with those who had betrayed his master and been given the job of overseeing the burials, as with one of Voldemort's first servants, a sniveling disgrace to the house of Slytherin named Stuart Kavan. On more than one occasion, he'd helped Death Eaters who's names were not as high on the social climbers list and therefore not as apt to cause a huge stir, to carry on the work of ridding the wizarding world of mudbloods, one piece of filth at a time. He'd also been reduced, as of late, to waiting hand and foot on his master since the damnable scrot Harry Potter had taken his master's body yet again last year.

But never, in all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, had he witnessed a sight such as he was witnessing now. It wasn't as if it was particularly gruesome to him. He'd seen and performed enough dark spells to be used to gruesome by now. No, it was more…grimly interesting…of a sort. He expected that to a lesser wizard, the scene playing itself out before him now would be a particularly frightening thing, especially seeing as how he would soon be playing a rather grisly role in it…but no matter. Unlike Wormtail, another of Voldemort's pathetically weak past servants, he was a powerful wizard; able to prepare himself. He'd already performed a freezing spell on the nerve endings just below his elbow on his right arm. Although it made it a little harder to use his hand at the moment, as he could now no longer feel the tasks he was performing, he knew the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks.

Voldemort had drunk a last pail of unicorn blood, and was now replete for the task before him. Of course, his only job was to sit in the cauldron and let Lucius finish what he'd started, but as any competent wizard knew, one had to be strong to be able to withstand such a powerful incantation as this.

Lucius stood in the clearing of the Forest of Kavan, so ineptly named he thought with a brief smile, and gathered his ingredients before him lovingly, almost reverently. The quilt of darkness surrounding himself and the Dark Lord as they stood outside the ramshackle hut he'd rebuilt for him was so thick, he almost felt that he could reach out and grip it. He was sure that when he'd arrived the moon and stars had been out, but somehow, it was as if Nature knew that evil had come out to play and had hidden herself away.

He'd always loved the power performing the dark arts gave him. Its draw was passionate, addictive, and yet so subtle. It was too easy to be lost to it once you'd used it. Of course, for Lucius, he'd made a conscious decision long ago to lose himself to it. He'd wanted it, no matter what powerful pull that came with it. It was more potent in its addiction than any Muggle drug, and from the very beginning of his use of it he'd been fixated, then dependent, and finally obsessed…much like his master.

"Continue Lucius," spoke the throaty, high-pitched voice of Voldemort. "I grow impatient."

"Forgive me, my lord," said Lucius evenly, turning to grab the first ingredient. He picked up a goblet that had been set on the forest floor behind him, and slowly began pouring the powdery substance into the cauldron around Voldemort, speaking the incantation. As he began, whatever outside noises there may have been, vanished as quickly as the moon and stars had.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…" The powder swirled around Voldemort's transparent form and sank suddenly, as if it were one whole thing, into the bottom of the cauldron.

Voldemort lifted his head and hissed with rapture, his dull red eyes closed. "Yessss…I can feel my strength returning to me…"

Lucius nodded curtly to his master and quite calmly picked up a large, very sharp knife from the ground holding it above his hand at the wrist. He moved toward the cauldron and held the limb over it.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…" With not a hint of hesitation, Malfoy raised the blade high and brought it down quickly with a hard chopping motion. The severed hand fell into the cauldron with a soft splash, and after a moment of floating on the top of the water, it too disappeared to the bottom of the cauldron as if some unseen source had yanked its sacrifice down. Quickly he muttered a congealment spell, pointing his wand at the now useless stump, and the blood flow stopped, now clotted quite effectively.

He wrapped a cloth around it as well as he could and picked up the vial of blood he'd left on the ground.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" he uncorked the vial of Lupin's blood carefully with his teeth and spat the cork onto the ground. The contents fell thickly as a large clot into the cauldron, and sank to the bottom.

Malfoy stepped back, holding the stump that had once been his hand and despite himself, his body shook with a bit of excitement. Although he was known for his proud, usually indifferent demeanor, this night was exciting. With the rebirth of Voldemort's body, and with the help of a much more competent set of servants, led by himself, of course, the wizarding world would soon not know what had hit them. And after that, the Muggle world would have hell to pay as well…

The vile mixture in the cauldron began boiling rapidly although the fire under it was barely lit anymore, and Lucius let his eyes drift up to Voldemort's face. He'd not known until now how the reforming of his body would come about, but now, the awful scene was playing out before him in great detail. Bones began to rattle and fly up from inside the cauldron, *clicking* themselves together and upward with amazing speed and accuracy. Before long, Voldemort turned to fully face Malfoy, and Lucius had to admit the sight of a skeleton resting atop, or rather inside the transparent dark lord's form was a ghastly thing indeed. Voldemort himself seemed delighted.

Soon, tendons and muscles began to grow and take form as if from nowhere. Then brain and blood vessels and organs, and finally, a grisly pale colored skin began to crawl its way over the body like some sort of disease that was rapidly spreading. The final thing to take shape was the dark lord's eyes. The orbs formed, a bright, curiously familiar shade of green, before the green disappeared and a hint of his familiar glowing red began to appear. Very soon after, Voldemort opened his new eyes, now glowing bright red to their fullest extent in the skull-like face; his new body strong, yet colorless and shaped as if still made of only blanched bone.

Malfoy felt himself smiling, one of the first genuine smiles he'd done in a long time. Here now was his destiny staring at him like a shiny new thing. He would ride on the back of Voldemort's power until the dark lord trusted him with everything. He had no intention of betraying him; no intentions of trying to take his master's seat of power. He only wanted what was rightfully his…the right to be called second in command. Lucius smiled to himself. This was the first and only time he'd ever be able to be accused of being satisfied with second place.

Voldemort breathed, smiling once again at the sensation of full lungs and stepped out of the cauldron. His voice was still high-pitched and throaty, but full of a sort of Herculean power.

"Now, Lucius. You will receive your just reward."

Lucius bowed rather formally and approached his master, remembering not to look him full in the eyes. After all, the alpha male took full eye contact to mean a challenge, and Malfoy certainly wasn't stupid.

"Extend your arm," said Voldemort in a lordly manner.

Malfoy held out his arm and seconds later, Voldemort had replaced the nub with a large golden hand.

Lucius was appropriately stunned. "M..my lord. This appears to be different than the one you so graciously bestowed upon Wormtail."

"Wormtail was next to useless to me Lucius. I can say with some pleasure that you have accomplished far more than he ever did. This hand is powerful. With it, you will be able to literally crush your enemies within your fist."

Lucius gave Voldemort a 'May I?' glance, remembering to keep his eyes lowered, and the dark lord nodded. Malfoy strode over to the nearest tree, plucking a branch from it and holding it in his hand. When he closed his fingers over it and opened them again, there was nothing left of the limb but a fine powder.

He widened his eyes in appreciation; greed and a new sense of power shining in their gray depths.

"Thank you, master," he said smoothly.

Voldemort nodded imperiously. "Use it wisely…" He strode over to his servant and looked him over with a sort of appraising glance as the other stroked his own golden hand lovingly. "And now Lucius…you know what is left to do. Do it quickly."

Lucius nodded once and bowed stiffly to his master before backing from him and disapparating with a decidedly loud *pop*.

********************************

Harry stood opposite his father, Godric Gryffindor's sword for now hanging complacently in hand, and quietly listened as Lupin began his lesson.

"Harry, I'm going to teach you what my father taught me, and what his father taught him. I'll bet you didn't know that Professor Dumbledore himself actually taught your great-grandfather to fence. They were close to the same age back then I expect." Lupin stood before Harry with a plain sword in hand.

Harry nodded grimly. "No I didn't. But apparently there's a lot I don't know."

Lupin looked Harry in the eyes and nodded, fully expecting that for a while, there would be a great deal of resentment from his son. He hoped that someday, Harry would begin to understand why he'd done what he'd done, but in the meantime, there was no time to dwell on it. Voldemort was most certainly moving toward a final battle, and the lines were swiftly being drawn. He expected that even now, the dark lord was busy thinking of ways to recall his death eaters, free and imprisoned. And he also realized that the Dementors, having thus far remained neutral, would probably not remain so for long. The time for choosing sides was imminent, and so was the time for being fully prepared.

He decided to leave Harry's comment aside for the moment and concentrate on the task at hand.

"Let's get started." Lupin raised his sword for a moment and began a series of movements, most of which Harry recognized, but only from some of the older Muggle movies Dudley had discarded and Harry had nicked when he wasn't looking.

"The most important things in fencing Harry are, number one: keep your eyes on your opponent at all times," Lupin raised his sword upward and brought it back with a powerful downward arc, the other arm slightly out and to his side.

"Number two: recognizing when the best time is for an attack, or for defense," Lupin moved nearer Harry with more thrusts and imaginary parries, still traveling in mesmerizing steps, "And number three…"

Suddenly he whipped around and with a powerful downward slash, made as if to cleave Harry in two. Quickly Harry brought his sword horizontally above his head to parry the blow, and gave his father a wide-eyed look of alarm when the blades never met.

Lupin straightened his stance and lowered his sword, breathing a bit heavily. "Number three Harry: realizing that while your opponent is attacking, he is simultaneously searching for weaknesses in your defense."

Harry nodded speechlessly, shaking a bit from the rush of adrenaline he'd just received, and slowly lowered his sword. He knew his father would never hurt him, but he'd just learned his first hard lesson. Always be aware.

Lupin backed away from Harry and moved back into his position a few yards in front of him. "Perhaps you might be wondering why I'm teaching you this. You might then need to ask yourself why Godric Gryffindor himself obviously thought it a worthy thing to know. Harry, a wizard's most powerful defense is his wand, or in your case, his magic, as you might not need yours much longer."

Harry flinched just a bit, out of what, he wasn't sure.

"But what happens when, or if, he loses his wand…or his ability to use magic? He is then left defenseless unless he knows some other means, some physical means of defending himself. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "I do. Professor, you're not telling me anything I haven't wondered myself for quite a while." He breathed in deeply, at odds with himself. "Thanks for teaching me."

For a brief moment in the seriousness of the lesson, Lupin let a bit of his affection for Harry show. "I've a feeling you're going to need this, son. If I could, I would spare you from any bad thing that might ever come your way…but you're a man now…I had to give up my chance for that a long time ago." He swallowed harshly and held his head a bit higher to ward off any more emotion for the time being.

"Harry, I'm not going to lie to you. This isn't going to be easy, and it's because you're my son, I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to be as ready as possible to face any situation that might come your way. Before we're through here, you're going to have to demonstrate great speed, skill, dexterity, and intellect. It's going to take many hours of training; learning coordination, balance and flexibility in attacking and defending. But I believe that one day, all of this might save your life and if it does, then it will've all been worth it."

Harry took in his father's words for a moment and then simply gave him a curt nod. "I know. I'm ready."

If he could've read minds at the moment, Harry would've seen the pride his father had for him. The fact was that James, as Lupin, had watched his son as often and as closely as he could the brief times he'd been able to be a part of Harry's life.

He had taken in as much of his son as possible, so that later, when he was alone again, he could remember and ponder on him in great detail. Harry had a great love for his friends, especially for Hermione and Ron, the latter of which reminded him a great deal of Sirius.

He was fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. He was smart, though he didn't seem to pay quite enough attention to academics. He was extremely brave, if not always a fore-thinker. But that was what he had Hermione for. For James it had been Lily. He'd noticed the similarities between Hermione and Lily almost immediately. They were both strong, level headed, brave, and certainly kept the Potter men on their toes. She was just what Harry needed, and he smiled briefly, eliciting a questioning look from Harry. It was curious how men tended to flock toward women that were similar to their mothers, even when they'd not even known them. Such was the case with Harry. He imagined that the same traits that attracted James to Lily, were the ones that attracted Harry to Hermione.

Shaking himself from the brief reverie, he lifted his sword in an attack stance and motioned for Harry to do the same.

"Alright Harry, I'm going to begin a direct attack, stopping at each action that I take to explain to you what I'm doing and to give you the chance to decide what the best course of action would be for you to take."

Harry nodded and tensed his arms, his sword almost vertical and to his side, but Lupin neared him and grasped his arm, bringing the sword in front of Harry's body at a vertical angle.

"Lesson two, Harry. Never leave your body unguarded. Your sword is always in front and at an angle, ready to parry any blow. Understand?"

Harry nodded, and Lupin stepped back again to begin the attack, his arm extending and the point of his sword coming swiftly toward Harry in a threatening manner. Harry backed up a step, but was unsure of what to do since the threatening blade was neither up nor down for him to parry it. Lupin stopped just short of running him through.

"What would you think to do in this situation?" he asked.

Harry thought for a moment and brought his sword from its already upward position downward to swing up and under Lupin's blade. "Possibly this? That way, I'd be leaving him open and close to me for a counter-attack."

Lupin nodded. "Ok, then do it."

Harry brought the sword, which was pointing correctly up, in a downward arc again and brought it upward under Lupin's but the motion merely knocked the opposing sword from it's course. Lupin then swiftly drew a small dagger from beneath his coat, pointing the blade directly between Harry's ribs.

. Harry looked downward and sighed, lowering his sword. "I'm dead."

Lupin straightened. "Right you are. What I've just done is called a compound, which is two actions done simultaneously. You must always be prepared for the possibility that your opponent is carrying extra weapons. Now what is your job in this situation?"

Harry raised an eyebrow almost sarcastically. "To prevent it."

Lupin smiled. "Smart man. Now tell me how you might do that."

Harry thought for a moment, and motioned for Lupin to raise his sword back into his original attack position. When the professor had done so, instead of the previous downward and upward attack, Harry reversed it, and swung his blade from upward where it already was, to downward, effectively crushing Lupin's to the floor and wrenching it from his hand. Lupin made to reach for the dagger again, but the reversed action that Harry had taken had given him more time, and he dropped to one knee, bringing his sword to Lupin's neck and holding it at his throat.

Lupin beamed at him and gently brought a finger between himself and the blade threatening his wind pipe, easing it away from him.

Harry smirked. "Sorry."

"No, Harry that was brilliant! You learned from your mistake and performed the correct action. Your first attempt had you bringing your sword from upward, where it already was, to downward to upward again. It wasn't enough forcible momentum to make me lose my sword, and it gave me too much time to go for another weapon. But since your sword was already up, and on your second attempt you merely brought it downward, it was done much more quickly and forcibly and you were able to thwart me. The faster defense always has the upper hand."

Lesson number three, and they'd already spent half of their class time. As the minutes wore on, Lupin began to realize that Harry was a fast learner, and apt to be very skilled. He was agile, flexible, and strong; three qualities that had probably been helped along by Quidditch. Before they were through, Lupin had taken Harry through two or three more battles, each one faster and more furious than the previous, and by five o'clock the two were thoroughly sweaty and tired.

Lupin smiled at Harry and rested both of his hands, one with the sword, against his knees, leaning over and panting a bit. "W..well Harry, I think that's…enough for tonight."

Harry nodded open-mouthed and brought his sword-arm up to wipe at his brow. "After all of that, I can't believe I even killed the basilisk in the chamber of secrets…I really don't know yet what I'm doing."

Lupin smiled again, still puffing for air and stood up, his back aching and his legs and arms feeling quite rubbery. "Well I suppose the basilisk didn't have a sword of his own, did he?"

Harry moved to Lupin's desk and replaced the sword, nodding his agreement and smiling ruefully.

As the professor made to do the same, and the two faced each other again, they once again became aware of the awkward silence in the room. James felt his heartbeat quickening as he scanned his son, and felt an overwhelming urge to rush over and hug him tightly enough so as to try and crush away the years spent apart. But the uncomfortable look on Harry's face and the way he kept shifting from one leg to the other kept him rooted to the spot. James struggled to find a way to ease the tension.

"So…I suppose you're headed to Quidditch practice then?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "No…that..I mean it doesn't start until next Monday. We'll be looking for new beaters and a keeper then, I expect."

Lupin nodded in understanding and a couple more seconds of strained silence followed. Harry looked so much like James himself had looked at that age, although slightly more filled out. He supposed that the Dursley's had kept Harry busy with every backbreaking chore they could think of over his summers there. He grimaced sourly as he thought about the fact that even he had resentments toward Dumbledore. He'd not known of the treatment Harry had received there over the years until just recently, but then again, neither had Dumbledore.

"Well…" said Lupin carefully, moving toward his desk as if to straighten it, "You'd better get going, I suppose. Ron and Hermione must be waiting for you."

Harry nodded slowly, but made no move to leave as of yet, and kept raking his fingers through his hair as if having a mental battle with himself. After moving papers around on his desk for a few moments more, James stood again and turned slowly to face his son.

"Harry? Was there something more?"

Harry stopped his hand, mid-rake, and lowered it to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists as if not sure what to do with them. When his bright green gaze met his fathers, Lupin had to restrain himself to not run to crush Harry to him. He was so grown up, and yet, at times like this, he looked completely lost.

"Do you think…er…rather…would it be alright…if sometime we could…just sit…Could you maybe sometime take some time to…to tell me about my mother?"

Lupin felt his body beginning to shake and swallowed down the painful throb in his throat.

Unconsciously, Harry began to claw his hand through his hair again, and James had to keep himself from smiling. Well could he remember the times that he'd done that in front of Lily, and she'd reprimanded him saying, 'stop that…you'll go bald.'

"I don't really know anything about her…or..or you. I'd like to know all I can." Harry swallowed nervously.

James smiled at him and kept where he was only by sheer force of will. Harry was obviously not ready yet for the bone-crushing hug he wanted to give him, but he'd just made the first step, and James had to keep himself from crying for joy. What should he say?…'I'd love that Harry?' No, that would seem too eager, and he didn't want Harry to feel uncomfortable…

Lupin sniffed almost imperceptibly. "Of course, Harry. Anytime…You just let me know."

Harry nodded and shifted his weight again. "Well, I'll be off then."

Harry left the room, obviously deep in thought and headed back towards the Gryffindor common room, leaving his father slumped with exhaustion, both physically and mentally, and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

***********************************************************

19. Chapter 19: Need

Chapter 19: Need

The next week came and dragged on with little to no new excitements for the trio, and each one found it to be just as well. They'd had quite enough just recently, and Harry knew he wasn't the only one needing a reprieve.

Classes were harder than usual owing to it being their seventh year, what with N.E.W.T.s approaching. It was especially hard for Hermione since she had finally decided to take Madame Pomfrey up on her offer to give her private Healer lessons. They came about the same time as Harry's extra lessons with Lupin, so Ron was left with more time on his own now than he knew what to do with. Almost. He and Lavender had seemed to come up with good uses for the time, he'd told them with a smirk and a wink one day. Hermione had given him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes, but Harry had favored him a thumbs up behind her back.

Each night, Harry came back to he and Hermione's dorms and either found her waiting for him, or vice versa. They headed to the Great Hall, met Ron and Lavender there, had a brief dinner, and returned to their common room exhausted and ready for bed, but unwilling to go without a good bit of snogging first. As Harry had told Hermione one night, it would've been like trying to sleep knowing you'd left the door unlocked, the stove on, and the refrigerator open. There was no way. Hermione had replied with a wry smile that even though Harry wasn't the most eloquent of wizards, she knew what he meant.

The nightly snogging ritual had been one that had only been broken during the summer months since last year. They'd always been careful not to go too far, but now more than ever before it had been becoming increasingly more difficult for them to keep from crossing the line…the line that they wanted to save until marriage. Harry was still as determined as ever to respect Hermione, and to keep her from making a mistake should he not make it through his final battle with Voldemort, and Hermione was just as determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself ages ago. But as they looked at each other after each long day, snuggled closely together in front of the fire in a common room that seemed cozily like their very own flat, they inevitably began moving a little farther than they had intended. Each time they stopped just short of going too far…blushed, breathless, and uncontained. And so it was the night before the morning that fear really returned to Hogwarts.

It was almost midnight now, Sunday night, and an exhausted Harry knew he and Hermione should be heading to bed, but it had become more and more difficult to let her go every night. His world had been given one great upheaval after another recently, and she was his constant in the madness, his buoy in the raging sea that now made up his existence. This only added to the fact that he simply loved her with all of the life that he owned.

They were in their pajamas, and Harry was inches from her face as he and Hermione sat cross-legged, facing each other on the soft carpet in front of the common room fire. His eyes raked every inch of her face and body, and his fingers continued to outline the shadows the flames made on her cheek.

Hermione shuddered and closed her eyes at his soft touch, so erotic in its restraint. This, coupled with the wonder he always held in his gaze when he looked at her, was the thing that turned her on the most. It was a grown up Harry, tall and strong, and yet looking at her with an almost child-like gaze, staring and touching her as if she were some precious gift he'd never thought to receive. When his gaze locked with hers, the look in their unusually clear green depths was enough to send a thrill of longing straight to her core.

Harry let his fingers continue their journey, sliding from her face to her neck and down further as he breathed her name. They'd finished talking about the day long ago. There were no more words to say; none that needed to be said…only this. As their eyes locked with each other, anything else that would have been discussed blew away like the wind anyway.

Harry put his hands on either side of her face and drew her in, giving her a kiss that was so soft, and yet so slow and seeringly heated that it left her quaking. His tongue touched her lips and then entered her mouth, leisurely moving in the way he wished other parts of him could, and Hermione gave in to him, putting her arms round his shoulders and pulling him as closely to her as she could.

Harry's hands came down to circle her waist, and he pulled her on top of his lap, finally crushing his lips to hers and letting his hands wander over her back and lower, touching, caressing, grabbing and grinding her body closer to his. He was on fire with need, and he felt every part of his body responding to her. He knew she felt it as well by the way she continued to make small whimpering noises, grinding against him and whispering his name every time their mouths left each other for a brief moment to breathe, only to crash back into each other again.

Hermione's skin blazed where he touched her and she felt warmth and a fierce hunger beginning to trickle down her body. She wrapper her legs even tighter around his middle, and her heart drummed out an erratic rhythm of desire that continued to build with each movement he made.

Harry's blood boiled like lava in his veins, his pulse pounding out her name in his head. An inferno was building with every movement she made against him. He laid her back on the carpet, his hands wandering closer and closer to the few parts of her body he'd yet to explore, and she found herself driving against him despite herself, her hands wandering lower and lower across his back, down his arms and chest, stopping just at his lower abdomen. At this, a low growl escaped from him that sounded so carnal that they both began losing control.

She was addictive, sweet, intensely satisfying, dizzying; leaving everything blurry around the edges. It left him with an appetite for more…craving a primal release that was burning him like some blazing hot iron on his skin. Her hair was thick and wild, and smelled of honeyed berries. Her skin was soft and alive, and he felt the goosebumps that rose on her skin every time his breath neared her ear, exhaling her name like a prayer. Her lips were warm and kiss-swollen, inviting more, and Harry was rapidly approaching the feeling that if they didn't stop now, he soon wouldn't be able to. He'd thought that Hermione was the strong one, that she was the one that kept their promise to each other in focus when things began to get too heated, but if he'd seen the scandalous thoughts that were running through her mind at that particular moment…things that she wanted to do to him, and things that she wanted him to do to her, even the most innocent one would've made him blush.

Hermione finally ended the madness, reprimanding herself over and over in her mind until her body finally followed suit. She began to slow the feverish kissing between them and Harry followed, doing his best to calm himself.

Gods, he needed her; body, soul and mind. There was no way he'd wait any longer than needed when he was finally able to propose, no matter how young they were…when all of this was finally over.

Hermione smiled at him as she crawled backward to sit a few feet from him and get her bearings back. She looked him over. His hair was sticking up all over, his nightshirt was open, showing a nice expanse of chest and a line of baby fine black hair that led below his waist band, and his glasses had long since been discarded somewhere beside the couch. She wanted to devour him, and then blushed at her own thoughts.

She brushed her hair away from her face and began to slow her breathing. "Alright Harry…mum always taught me to flee from even the appearance of evil…"

"How's that?" Harry frowned at her, rustling his hair frustratedly. "How am I evil!?"

She smiled seductively at him. "You make me want to sin."

Harry slowly grinned back at her and crawled over to her again, but this time he picked her up, threw her on the couch and began to tickle her. She began screaming and laughing but he clamped a hand over her mouth and continued his torture. "I can deal with that."

Hermione screamed and flailed, slapping and punching at him until he finally stopped, but only because he was laughing too hard at her to continue.

Hermione scowled at him and sat up, smoothing her hair back down. "Oh, you are evil…you must be destroyed."

Harry stuck his bottom lip out at her. "Just tell me you don't love me. That'll do it."

"My mum also told me never to lie," said Hermione with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Harry smiled at her and offered her his hand. "Your mum is a smart woman." She took it and stood, and he began leading her to her room.

Once inside, Hermione crawled under the red quilt and sheets on her bed and Harry pulled them up to her shoulders and tucked her in. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and kissed it, sitting back on his haunches.

"Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, love. Going to try out?" He teased.

"Sure," replied Hermione with a smile, "Right after I finish all of my classes naked."

"You could try that around here, you know."

Hermione laughed. "Git." She drew her arms out from under the covers to slap Harry playfully on the chest.

Harry grinned at her, until the smile slowly faded. He continued gazing at her for a moment and then whispered to her. "I love you."

Hermione reached out and pulled Harry's face to hers, giving him a soft kiss. "I love you all there is."

Harry stood and walked over to her doorway, muttering 'Extinguo' without his wand. The lights in her room immediately snuffed out, leaving Hermione wondering as he walked away if he even knew he'd done it.

Harry knew. Over the past week with Lupin, he'd been given the opportunity to try more wandless magic as his father often stopped their lesson five to ten minutes before time so that Harry could practice it specifically. He'd successfully summoned his sword back to himself one time when Lupin had driven it out of his hands to land a few yards from him. He'd muttered the 'Immobulus' charm on Lupin's steps as he'd advanced, effectively stopping him in his tracks for a few moments as he'd charged at him. He'd even been able, at one time, to toss his father back a few steps with a simple wave of his hand. But all of those times had been when he'd been filled with a lot of emotion. He'd been taut from the sword fights, on edge simply from spending a lot of alone time with his father, and trying to pretend that he was fighting Voldemort. The charm he'd just muttered to put out the lights in Hermione's room though had been muttered without a second thought and without any particularly strong emotions behind it. That, Harry had not noticed.

He entered his room, dropped onto the bed without bothering to crawl under the covers, and fell into an exhausted sleep without a second thought.

******************************************

The morning sun beamed into Harry's eyes way too early as far as he was concerned and he sat up groggily, swiping a hand over his face and ruffling his hair into an even wilder state of disarray.

He blearily grabbed his robe and began heading toward the bathroom he and Hermione shared, but a chink of light from under the door, and the steady pounding of water sounding clearly from the other side made him stop just short of trying the doorknob. He watched the steam waft out from the bottom of the door, and the thought of Hermione in there, in the state that people are normally in when bathing, brought him awake with a snap.

He rushed away from the door to wait his turn on the common room couch and concentrated heavily on thoughts of Speedoclad!Dudley doing water ballet until he could get himself under control again. Merlin, this was going to be one long year…

He and Hermione made their ways to the Great Hall. The ceiling reflected the beginnings of a lovely day; the bewitched picture of outside showing a slightly overcast sky with fluffy clouds filtering the morning sun.

The two sat down opposite Lavender and Ron, the latter of whom seemed to be in much worse shape than Harry. But though he had never been a morning person, Harry suspected the sick look on Ron's face stemmed from something completely different.

"October first, Ron," said Harry with a small smile as he filled a bowl with cereal and reached out a hand, summoning the bottle of milk to him as an afterthought. The bottle slid over to him and slapped neatly into his open palm. Hermione stared at him. "Ready for tryouts?"

No one else seemed to notice the wandless bit of magic. Ron glanced at Harry and Hermione with puffy red-rimmed eyes, groaned pitifully and ignored Harry's question. He leaned his head on his hand and unknowingly squashed his elbow into a pile of corned beef hash. " 'Lo mates. I feel like hell."

Lavender turned to him briskly and picked up his elbow, placing it beside his plate instead and beginning to lump a pile of fruit in front of him. "Ron, I wish you wouldn't eat that rubbish. It's so disgusting."

Ron looked up at her with a slightly green tinge to his face. "Dobby made it 'specially for me, Lav…knows I need protein what with the tryouts today and all." He glanced at Harry with the last comment as if to show him he'd heard his earlier question. "Nice elf, that one."

"It is rather vile Ron," said Hermione sounding a lot like his mother, "Besides, a good bit of fruit and some toast would be better if you're wanting to do your best."

Harry squinted clinically at Ron and then sat back on the bench with a slump. "You overdid the butterbeer again last night, didn’t you? Merlin's beard Ron, how're you supposed to play today!?""

Ron groaned and looked up with blurry eyes. "I have all day to recover, I'll hack it! Sorry mate, it was Seamus. We were playing 'Hell or Hex' and he dared me to drink a couple of quarts."

Lavender looked at him reproachfully. "Only that's not all, is it!?" She snapped. "No, he dared you to stand on your head and drink until you could belch out every word to that new Werewolf Wilmur song, 'Howlo my love', didn't he!?"

Hermione nearly dropped her mug of pumpkin juice. "He what!? Ron, no wonder you're sick! You boys and your idiot games…"

Ron winked blearily at her and gave her a stupid grin. "Good song, that."

Despite himself Harry began laughing, dodging the reproachful looks he received from both Lavender and Hermione.

Ron turned back to Lavender. "Well I would've been daft to take the hex, now wouldn't I?" He looked at Harry for support. "Harry, you know how he's always banging on about 'Weasley' hair… well he was going to make real carrots grow from my head! I mean which would you have done? He's a real blighter, that one."

"Oh and I suppose refusing both of them was out of the question, was it?" asked Lavender briskly, eyeing him as she flipped her blonde hair.

Ron looked at her as if she had a grindylow attached to her face. "Well of course it was."

Harry snorted, stuffing a rather large piece of toast in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Hermione turned to look closely at him, but at that moment owls began swooping in from the front of the Great Hall laden down with packages, letters and copies of the Daily Prophet. The madness of so many of them flying and fluttering too and fro among the students took the focus from Ron and he accepted it gratefully, giving Harry a relieved look. Harry grinned at him.

Hermione untied her copy of the Daily Prophet from the brown school owl's leg, dropped a couple of knuts into it's pouch and unrolled the paper to smooth it out in front of her. She picked up an apple and raised it to her mouth to take a bite but the large black headlines that stared at her from the front page made her drop it back on the table with a loud thud and a gasp.

"NO!…Oh no…"

Harry took in her alarmed face and dropped his spoon back into his cereal bowl to scoot closer to she and the paper, and Lavender and Ron looked up as well, straining from across the table to read the upside-down words in front of them. Neville Longbottom, seated next to Lavender, also craned his neck to get a peek.

A large black and white photo of the outside grounds of Azkaban complete with an infuriated, gobsmacked Cornelius Fudge, a group of around ten Aurors, some of whom Harry recognized from the Order and one whose face he couldn't see, and a few wizard reporters snapping pictures of the carnage around them moved animatedly in front of the group.

ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN: MISSING DEMENTORS SUSPECTED

By Lorivan Thatchmire

• • The dark wizard prison, Azkaban, was overrun yet again last night, though there seems to be no evidence of a break in. A total of ten prisoners have reportedly escaped from their cells, bringing to mind the events of two years prior, when the same number escaped. The escapees have all been positively identified as Death Eaters.

    Among those sprung from their cells last evening was one Bellatrix Lestrange, along with many of the others who broke out, and were then recaptured following the previous break out of two years prior. This brings the number of suspected Death Eaters on the loose up to around fifteen.

    Upon reaching the scene, Aurors assigned to the case first noticed a scattering of the bodies of around twenty dementors; the creatures who's job it has been to secure the prison from its very beginning. The prison normally houses around fifty to seventy dementors at a time, but the rest have yet to be found. This, along with the fact that there is no evidence indicating an assault from outside forces, has led wizard investigators to believe that the break out was a result of defection from the inside.

    Says one Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and expert hitwizard from the Ministry of Magic: "We've no other explanation for why over half of the dementors are missing, and the remaining twenty are dead. We've reached the conclusion that some of the dementors tried to stop the breakout and inevitably lost their lives due to being outnumbered.

    It's a shame really, for two reasons. Number one, the ministry will have to sacrifice some of its already overworked staff to take over guarding the prison. And worse, number two, we can only come to one conclusion as to why the dementors would decide on desertion of their posts. They've finally, truly chosen sides."

    This revelation, of course, again brings to mind the events of two years prior, when it appeared that some of the dementors had already renounced the Ministry and helped to spring the previously freed ten death eaters. Many of the dementors returned to work only days later, claiming that they had been out on the search for the missing inmates. Of course, now, one must wonder if those dementors returned to their jobs only to free the remaining Death Eaters when the time became convenient.

This reporter for one, hopes that the Ministry will soon find evidence that proves otherwise, because for now, it seems certain that the Dementors have not chosen on the side of good."

• • After Hermione had finished reading the article aloud to the three, along with Neville, surrounding her, a heavy silence fell over them. The lighthearted feeling they had had only moments before had now been washed away and they were left with a sick feeling of dread.

    Neville, in particular had suddenly become pale and drawn. As soon as Hermione had finished the article, he'd mumbled something inarticulate and fled the Great Hall. Ron said that he'd become immediately mental at the mention of Lestrange's name.

    Ron was also upset by the news but for different reasons. He and Lavender had just been able to warm up to each other again since the period that she had chosen to stay away from him out of fear after the dark mark incident in Diagon Alley. Now, he was afraid that the bad news they'd all just heard might make her fearful once again to be around the three teens that Voldemort seemed to target the most. Rather, it was Harry the dark lord targeted, but neither Ron nor Hermione would ever leave his side, so what one went through, they all did. He knew if it came down to choosing between his friendships with Harry and Hermione or his relationship with Lavender that he would choose the former, but he hoped it never came to that.

    He took a tentative look at Lavender's face, and though she was white and filled with fear, she scooted closer to him and looped her arm in his as if he might protect her. Ron allowed himself to relax a bit. That had to be a good sign…

    As soon as the article had finished being read, Harry and Hermione seemed to have the same thoughts about it. Their gaze inevitably wandered up front towards the professors table, and both saw Dumbledore and McGonnagol, their heads close together with Snape's, in deep discussion over what appeared to be a copy of the newspaper. The rest of the teachers all seemed to be involved in discussions of their own as well.

    The rest of the Great Hall soon began to reverberate with hushed and murmured discussions that sounded nervous and altogether fearful. Word traveled fast at Hogwarts.

    Neither Harry nor Hermione needed three guesses to figure out what they were talking about.

    Across the hall, Draco Malfoy had just finished reading the headlined news as well. Some of the Slytherin table was cackling to each other about the article. Still others had even gone so far as to commend the Dementors for finally 'having the scrotes to step up and make the choice.'

    "It's about time they did something," said Pansy Parkinson in her harsh, nasally voice as she let porridge fall thickly from her spoon back into her bowl. "Gods, this is disgusting. Those house elves are useless mongs! Anyhow, I knew the dementors would eventually turn against the Ministry. Bound to happen what with it being run by a bunch of pig-ignorant lummoxes…Fudge included."

    "Exactly," said a strongly built witch sitting next to Pansy. "My father works in Magical Wildlife Services. He says Fudge's turned into a right old sot since You-Know-Who decided to show himself again two years ago. The dark lord shouldn't have much trouble taking over once Dumbledore's out of the way. And Pothead of course."

    "Right you are," said Millicent Bullstrode, her bulldog like face mashed even further into a sneer. "The dark lord's only months away from making his move, I'd say. As for me, I'll be on the side of the most powerful. We all know who that's going to be."

    Goyle snickered. " 'Course we do. 'Specially with Mr. Malfoy bein' on his team. What with ickle Potter being the only thing standing in You-Know-Who's way, the victory's already in his ruddy pocket. The runt."

    "Goyle, compared with you everyone's a runt." At the mention of his father Draco had stiffened with anger, and he spoke before he thought about how the comment might make him look.

    Goyle's small piggy eyes fixed on Draco who sat up straight, eyeing him steadily. Goyle scowled, managing to look stupid and confused all at the same time. "What's the matter with you, then!? You takin' up for Potty Wee Potter now!?"

    "No you lard-arsed bloater," bellowed Draco with so much force that blood rushed to his face. "There'll never be any love lost between Scarhead and me. You just need to keep your bloody hole shut about things you don't half understand…all of you."

    The Slytherin sitting near them all looked up from their breakfasts, some with shock, and others in anger. Crabbe's jaw actually dropped open, and a half-chewed piece of sausage tumbled out onto the table.

    "And who are you to tell us what we do and don't understand, Malfoy…" said Theodore Nott, a thin, sallow faced boy two seats over from him.

    "Only the son of Voldemort's frickin' right hand man." Snarled Draco with a fierce glint in his eyes. He looked around at the group that had suddenly hissed in fear at the mention of the dark lord's name with a derisive gaze of anger. He balled his fists until the knuckles turned white and ground them furiously into the table. "I guess you all think it's time to celebrate now, right!? I mean half of our parents here are loyal to him, aren't they!? I'll bet you're all just bloody pissing your pants to join them!"

    "Keep your voice down Draco!" yelled Nott furiously as he slammed a fist down on the table. "You want to get them all caught!?"

    Malfoy wildly shifted his way. "I suppose you lot think that when he takes over everything's going to be one happy shit-fest, aye? That you'll all be princes and princesses and your parents kings of the world?"

    "Well he is the most powerful, isn't he!?" hissed Pansy to Draco. "If we ally with him, then we're sure to get a piece of the action, as well as the victory. It makes sense, doesn't it?!"

    Draco half rose from his seat and made a move as if to crawl over the table and beat the hell out of the others until his good sense re-exerted itself.

    "I'll tell you what makes sense you great shit-load of idiots," seethed Malfoy shaking with anger as much as with a sense of dread. "The fact is that when Voldemort gets through with your parents, as well as with you, you'll be killed and pitched aside just as soundly as the one's who stood against him. You think he's going to leave a bunch of power-hungry wizards and witches around to try and take him over? You won't be worth a toss to him! NO ONE WILL! Everybloodyone is a means to an end, don't you see that!?"

    No one answered him. Part of the Hufflepuff table, which was nearest to them had overheard the conversation and were watching him with their jaws dropped, speechless; mimicking the lack of response he got from his own house.

    He calmed himself down and stepped over the bench to stand behind it. The article in the Daily Prophet and the ensuing conversation had left him feeling nauseous and completely out of control of his own life. Lucius fully expected Draco to take the Death Eater's mark the night after his graduation from Hogwarts. He even had a small ceremony planned for him somewhere in a forest clearing, although Draco wasn't sure where. The only thing he was sure of, was that if he were somehow forced to take that mark, he would kill himself.

    Oh he had no ambitions to be holy and good like the Gryffindors; to fight the good fight and bleed for the ruddy side of the moral. Like his father, he abhorred all semblance of self-righteousness and the falseness of honor, kindness and bravery. None of those were real. After all, everyone was truly out for themselves; some were just more adept at showing it than others.

    He had all of his father's ambition, all of his drive, his pompousness, even his ruthlessness to a point, but the one thing Draco had not inherited from his father was his absolute yearning for power, despite what package it came in. Yes, he would take power from any other source…but never ever from Voldemort. The thought made him want to vomit.

    On the outside he remained cool and calculating, and moved away from the Slytherin table as if he were merely finished eating, glaring at the Slytherins who watched him go so they would not think him weak as he made his way towards the exit of the Great Hall. On the inside, his heart was beating a staccato rhythm of dread.

    He hadn't banked on the fact that someone had been watching him. That the someone had been watching him for a while, and knew when he was faking it even better than when he did.

    Ginny watched his retreating form covertly as she took another bit of her scone, and swore that before he exited the great double doors that led into the hall, he sent a glance her way. She waited a few agonizing moments, and then rose slowly and began to follow him out as nonchalantly as she could. No one from their table had seemed to hear the conversation. Indeed, Ginny hadn't even been able to hear it, but she'd been casting glances Draco's way all during breakfast and could tell he'd been in a heated argument with his housemates. Ron's eyes were on her almost the entire time, but his girlfriend took his attention back at the last moment. Thank Merlin for Lavender Brown.

    Ginny dashed out of the double doors and immediately ran towards the great oak double doors that led outside of the school building, pushing them open with a great heave and skipping down the huge cement steps.

    As she made out the tall boy far ahead of her, his platinum hair glinting in the sun as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch, she knew that she'd been right. Malfoy always seemed to head toward the Quidditch pitch when he was angry or needed to think, much like Harry; though if he ever heard her say that he might hex her into oblivion.

    But unlike Harry, who took his problems to the skies, Malfoy sat on the ground, under the same tree on the outer edge of the pitch that he could always be found under. Well, only by Ginny. She mused that she was probably the only one that knew his secret thinking spot. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction.

    She watched him throw himself down on the other side of the trunk and took a few minutes to approach carefully so that he wouldn't think she'd come to spy on him.

    Finally she made a small throat-clearing sound and edged her way around the tree to face Malfoy who had swiftly drawn his wand. When he saw Ginny he lowered it slowly, leaning his back against the tree once more.

    "What'd you want, Red…spying on me?" he sighed almost resignedly.

    Ginny smiled bracingly and sat down opposite him. "Don't flatter yourself. I just saw you leaving the Great Hall earlier than usual from breakfast and thought I'd come see what was going on."

    "Aren't you worried about being late for class," said Draco sarcastically, "being a good little Gryffindor and all. You might want to scamper along now."

    Ginny made no expressions as to whether his words had affected her at all. "We have about fifteen minutes left."

    "Well I suppose you overheard everything," said Draco almost angrily with a raised eyebrow.

    Ginny favored him with a small laugh. "You know better than that. Even if I'd wanted to spy on you, which I don't…Slytherin table's too far away from ours to hear anything."

    Draco pursed his lips and shifted his position. "Then why…"

    "Because you looked angry or upset…or something," said Ginny, a little flustered with herself. "Because...besides the fact that I wanted to tell you about Hogsmeade weekend. It's cancelled, you know, so you don't have to get all dressed up for me."

    "I had no intention of it," said Draco lazily as he plucked a grass blade and put it between his lips. "It was only going to be a distraction. I get bored so easily."

    Ginny eyed him for a moment before she saw the very small beginnings of a smile crease one corner of his lips. She grinned at him despite herself. "Nice try."

    "Thanks," he said with another raised eyebrow.

    They sat silently for a few moments before he spoke again.

    "You can go, Red. I don't need babysitting."

    Ginny smirked at him. "I never thought you did…I thought you might rather need a friend."

    Draco looked up sharply at her as if she'd just attempted to play some joke on him. His expression turned sour and he stood up rather briskly. "I don't need any more bloody friends. I've got quite enough to be sick of."

    Ginny stood too, though she looked slightly bewildered. "You mean Crabbe and Goyle…Oh yes, they seem the loyal type. I know whenever I need a friend, I usually look for those who can only grunt a response and don't have enough brainpower to understand me, much less give me feedback. Let me commend you. Good choices."

    The speech left Draco a little lost for words and instead he ground his teeth together and turned his eyes away from her to stare angrily at some point behind her.

    "I don't need you."

    Ginny sighed and sat back on the ground Indian-style, staring resolutely at his knees. "I never said you did. But if you want me…my friendship, my ear…I'm here."

    She knew how proud he was, knew that he'd never accepted help from anyone before to her knowledge. She just given him the perfect opportunity to laugh in her face and walk away, but as of this moment, she had suddenly become tired of playing games. Without warning she'd just laid it all out in front of him, and it was up to him now to literally take her, or leave her.

    For a few moments, she thought he'd decided to walk away. He kept making little movements as if to do so, and then kept coming back around the tree to face her again. His gray eyes were so full to the brimming with his own soul at the moment that they appeared stormy. The emotions crossing his face seemed literally tormented, as if he were waging a great battle in his mind…to reach out, or not to reach out…that was the question.

    Finally he sat smoothly down in front of her, his back against the tree once more. He lifted eyes to her that were almost void of the usual cold detachment, and Ginny was so startled that she had to look down to the ground. Here was a side of Draco Malfoy that she'd never seen…vulnerability.

    "What do you…" he began almost hoarsely. "I don't…I don't know if I have it in me to give you what you want."

    Ginny swallowed harshly and almost giggled to herself. When had their surface, sarcastic conversations suddenly turned into real ones? In some way she'd been able to get to him better than anyone else, and not through anger…through truth. She felt elated. "I don't want anything from you," she smiled genuinely, a move that almost seemed to hurt him, "I just want to help…if I can."

    Draco nodded and looked up at her, a little of his old defenses rising in his tone and eyes once again. "I don't know if you can help Red, but if you're that keen on knowing, I'll let you in on some of it."

Ginny wasn't disappointed at all. She'd known it wasn't going to be easy. After all, Rome hadn't been built in a day, and neither had Draco Malfoy. But as he began relaying to her what had been said at the Slytherin table, she realized that they'd gotten off to a miraculous start.

20. Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

• • Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

    The day went by way too slowly as far as Harry was concerned. Quidditch tryouts were to be at five o'clock, and as he, Hermione and Ron headed towards Lupin's Advanced DADA class at three, he noted that the other students headed that way were just as anxious to get it over with and head toward the pitch as he was.

    Ron hadn't played Quidditch since his disastrous run as Gryffindor's keeper in fifth year, but he'd finally decided, with Harry's prodding to try out once again. He'd been practicing with Fred and George in their spare time over the summers and had improved quite a bit, but had decided that this time around he would try out as a beater. Ginny was to try out as keeper, and as usual with anything she put her hand to, she was bound to be good. Harry thought that the two were shoo-ins for the positions.

    The advanced class went by as slowly as the rest of their lessons had, although to Harry, Ron and Hermione it was by far their most interesting. Lupin had now shown them over ten new defensive spells, a few of which were pairspells, as he called them, in which two actions are done in one.

    Exarmonato, for example, was the disarm and levitation spell, desinoflamen was quite literally a simultaneous block and blast, and adleveludo was a lift and parry, in which you could parry an opponents blow while elevating him magically at the same time, giving you the opportunity to blast him backward. In addition, there was adsultopello, which attacked and propelled your foe at the same time, and effundomolior, which discharged and displaced him.

    This afternoon Lupin was teaching them all about mind spells, in which an opponent's ability to think rationally was compromised.

    There was the simple confusion spell, conturbatio, which confounded a person's thoughts so that he was hardly able to think rationally, and then of course there was obliviate, which quite simply erased your opponent's memory. Harry and Ron quite gleefully remembered Gilderoy Lockhart in their second year trying to get them with this particular spell, only to have it backfire on himself owing to the use of Ron's broken wand.

    Lupin however, urged them to use this spell sparingly as there was no telling until the deed was done just how much of the memory would be erased.

    The final spell they learned that lesson was a pairspell as well, though another one for the mind. Retrocantium caused the person casting a spell to become confused, and then to turn it upon himself. This one became a favorite of Ron's as he had fortunately been paired with Malfoy. He'd become quite adept at defensive spells and every time he was able, when the Slytherin tried to hex him, Ron forced him to hex himself.

    Harry found it hilarious, although Hermione pointed out to him that it was almost disturbing how quickly Ron had become so skilled at defensive spells. Harry agreed with her. He had to admit that Ron actually almost surpassed him in this area, although Harry far surpassed Ron with attack spells. The three pondered on this for a few moments after class until Harry told them that in order for him to get to the Quidditch pitch on time that evening, he needed to begin his extra lesson with Lupin. Hermione had her healer lessons with Madame Pomfrey to attend as well so the three split up, with Ron promising to meet Harry at the Quidditch pitch at five.

    The extra hour with his father flew by quickly, and although fencing was hard work and often left him feeling sweaty, exhausted and rubbery by the end, Harry found that he was enjoying the time with his father more and more. He was beginning to predict Lupin's movements before he even made them and was becoming very good at parrying blows and delivering some powerful ones himself.

    He'd now learned a balestra, which was a sort of jump/lunge movement; a circular parry, which was a parry that ended in the position or line from which it started; a diagonal parry, in which the point of the sword was lifted or lowered into a vertically opposite line while making a lateral parry simultaneously; and a feint, which was an action to draw a desired response from the opponent.

    This action was his favorite, as it fooled the other into opening themselves for attack, and put them on the defensive where he'd been himself only a few moments before.

    By the end of the lesson, both he and Lupin found themselves on opposite ends of the room, thoroughly exhausted, and holding their swords limply in hand as if they'd become too heavy to handle anymore. Neither had been able to overcome the other for the entire hour, and the professor had to admit that his son would soon be better at the sword than he had ever been. Of course while having youth on his side, Harry also had to his advantage the use of magic at the same time, as it was becoming increasingly obvious that he almost no longer needed his wand. Often if Lupin was beginning to get the upper hand and Harry was able to focus enough to use magic while simultaneously defending himself with his blade; he was able to come up the winner. James marveled at his son and felt himself bursting with pride any time he lost to him. His first reaction was to clap his son on the back or even to hug him, but he'd held himself back for fear of an uncomfortable reaction from Harry.

    They were at least now getting used to each other, this much was true; but Harry was still not yet ready for the closeness his father was bursting to have with him. Though James knew it would be a long time coming, his son was worth the wait.

    Harry gave Lupin a tired smile as his father, panting, made a mock bow toward him. "You bested me this time, but I might not be as easy on you next round."

    "That was your version of easy!?" asked Harry with a snort as he replaced Godric's sword behind Lupin's desk and rounded it again, "I'm really in for it then…wandless magic or no, I'm done for."

    Lupin grinned then. "I'm joking, son…Harry." Lupin replaced the word quickly but Harry didn't seem to notice his slip. "Honestly you gave me quite the run for my money this afternoon. You're getting better and better. I'm really highly impressed."

    Harry looked down with an embarrassed half-smile and then shook his dark head. "It's only because you're a good teacher, I expect."

    A small silence followed and Harry finally looked up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'd better go. Got Quidditch tryouts before dinner and I need to change. Besides I imagine Ron's about to wet himself with worry right about now."

    As Harry turned to leave Lupin made a sound. "Oy! Harry wait a second there…There's something I've been meaning to give you."
    

    Harry hesitated uncertainly and watched as his father made his way to a narrow closet on the far end of the room and emerged a second later with a beautifully polished, streamlined, and sleek looking broom.

    Harry squinted a little questionably at it until Lupin neared him and held it out to him. As soon as he saw it, there was no doubt in his mind. It was a Flametorch, one of the top models. The logo was emblazoned on its dark rich handle in the familiar ruby, each letter slanted and glowing, dancing magically with red, sparkling flames as if the word was interminably on fire.

    Harry backed away from it a little uncertainly. Without really meaning to, the first thought that came to his mind was about his father's intentions. Was Lupin trying to get closer to him with an extravagant gift? He quickly quashed the thought. If he knew anything about his father's character by now, and he sincerely hoped he did, it didn't seem his style. He was hardly a Lucius Malfoy…yet, how could he accept something like this?

    Harry opened his mouth to speak but was almost unable to choose what he wanted to say. "I…I don't know if I can…why are you giving this to me?"

    Lupin thinned his mouth sadly as if he'd been expecting such a reaction and lowered the broom slightly. "It's not a bribery gift Harry, though I'd understand if you thought so. I'd never try to buy a relationship with you…You can be sure of that much."

    "No!" began Harry sharply, "No, I…It's just…well that's one of the best, most expensive racing brooms around. Besides the fact that I…well…how did you know I wanted this model? This is one of the topmost ones…"

    Lupin smiled and handed Harry the broom, smiling even wider as he watched his son finger it. "I know it's a top model. Played quite a bit of Quidditch myself in my day if you remember…I heard that you'd been just about to buy yourself one in Diagon Alley before school until the whole dark mark incident. Also I thought it might be a little hard for Gryffindor's captain and seeker to continue playing without a broom, since you gave your Firebolt to Ron Weasley."

    Harry's eyes quickly darted up to his father. "Who told you about all of that?"

    Lupin smiled again, with a look on his face that suggested he knew a secret. "Hermione Granger."

    Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh she did, did she?"

    "She did," said Lupin simply. He paused for a moment and gave his son an affectionate gaze. "She loves you, you know…a lot."

    Harry looked sharply at his father with an embarrassed red tinge to his cheeks. "Did she tell you that?"

    "She didn't need to," said Lupin almost wistfully. "It's written all over her face. Yours as well, I might add."

    Harry looked down and drew his eyebrows together. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Hermione, and it wasn't just because it was his father standing there with him. He and Hermione's relationship was to him a sort of safe haven, a hideaway shared only between the two of them, and he was unwilling to share it. It wasn't as if it was a secret to anyone, but keeping it wholly to themselves made it all the more special to them both, and Harry was reluctant to change that. Besides that fact, Harry wasn't ready to share that sort of intimacy with his father. He sometimes wondered quite truthfully if he ever would.

    He looked up at his father with a gaze meant to end the subject as smoothly as possible. "She means a lot to me." He paused. "Thanks for the broom. You really…didn’t have to, but thank you…very much."

    "It's nothing Harry," said Lupin quietly. "I'm sure you'd better head on, then. Five o'clock, and all."

    Harry nodded then and headed toward the door but paused and turned back to his father. "It's not nothing." He gazed at his father for a brief second and then turned the corner out of sight.

    Lupin stood in the same spot, staring at the door after Harry had gone, and spoke quietly into the emptiness of the room. "It's nothing compared to what I wish I could give you."

    *************************************

    Harry left his fencing lesson that afternoon with a lighter heart than he'd had in a while. He was becoming quite good at the sword, not to mention wandless magic, and even though he and his father had still not sat down to have a real deeper than surface conversation, he felt that a lot of the tension was slowly beginning to release. If he'd understood it all, he would have realized that what he and his father were doing was the best thing for beginning their relationship. The fencing class provided them the opportunity to work together toward a common goal, expend a lot of frustrated energy, and spend a time together that was not filled with awkward silence and the thick tension that inevitably would follow a set meeting where some sort of relationship breakthrough might be expected. This way, they were getting used to each other slowly…and James was beginning to realize that when the time for real conversation finally did come, after all of the shared time together, it might not be as strained as it could have been without it.

    ***************************************

    October had brought with it a quicker darkening of the day, and Harry walked toward the pitch swinging his new broom over his shoulder and squinting his eyes through the dusk of early evening to make out fellow students, teammates and hopefuls waiting at the bottom of the Gryffindor playing tower. A chilly breeze swept under his Quidditch robes billowing them around his legs, and while he walked he allowed himself a few peaceful moments to survey the change that autumn had made to the Hogwarts grounds.

    The trees lining the pitch were clad in orange, red and gold, and the leaves that had fallen to the ground as if already making way for winter crunched lightly under his boots. He smiled a little in the fast approaching darkness. Often to get away from the bustle and tension that characterized his life, he would escape to the Quidditch lockers, grab his broom and head for the horizon. He loved to scan the grounds from high above and mark the changes every season made. Humid Spring with its scented rain and flowers at the end of the school year, skip summers (which could have been wonderful but were made horrid by having to spend them with the family from hell), the chilly breeze and colorful hues of fall that painted the world ruby, orange and gold, and the biting freeze and blinding white of winter that left tree limbs bowing heavily and the ground sparkling like a thick blanket of diamonds.

    Sometimes, although they were few and far between, Harry was able to escape the drama that defined his life and head vertical, leaving his worries behind and watching them grow smaller and less detailed the higher he flew. These, he realized, along with the time he spent with Hermione, were the times that kept him sane.

    Ron, he suddenly realized, had just jogged up to him and was walking beside him toward the pitch with a white, drawn face, carrying Harry's old Firebolt over his shoulder. Abruptly, Harry was yanked back to the present.

    He squinted sideways at his friend in the dusk. "Ron, mate…you look like hell."

    "I'm nervous," said Ron shakily, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Harry, I really suck rocks at this, you know. I don't know what I was thinking letting you talk me into this again."

    Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back as they rounded toward Gryffindor's tower. Ron hadn't yet noticed his new broom, and he decided it would be fun to see how long it would take.

    "It's our last year, Ron. What have you got to lose? Besides you're trying out for beater…that's a sight different than keeper."

    Ron grimaced. "Yeah, and if Ginny gets keeper and she ends up better than me I might as well string myself from the Astronomy Tower. I'll never be able to show my face at home again."

    Harry frowned. "How's that?"

    "Fred and George'll never let me live it down," said Ron miserably as he let the Firebolt down to the ground to drag a dismal trail behind him. "I know the moment they find out they'll take the bloody mickey out of me. 'You let Ginny best you at Quidditch'?" Ron mocked in his best 'Fred voice', 'Well that's the end…We've had it with you. We're going to start telling everyone you were adopted again.' Then he mocked George. 'Or maybe we'll let them on you spent time at St. Mungo's when you were younger. Large sucking head wound…god-awful accident. Never been the same since. Left him a bit funny, you know.' " Ron touched his head and made a terrible face with crossed eyes and a waggling tongue.

    "You actually look smarter that way."

    "Bite me, Harry."

    Harry snorted with laughter as the two reached Gryffindor's game tower amid the mass of other students. "Come off it Ron. They're not that bad."

    Ron looked over at him scornfully. "You're not serious. You know them."

    Harry had to concede that he did indeed know them. "Alright, maybe they are, but at least they don't live at the Burrow anymore. Just put them out of your mind and play your best. I know you have it in you…You only muck up when you start getting too nervous. Just calm down."

    "Easy for you to say," Ron muttered under his breath.

    As it turned out, Ron needn't have worried near as much as he'd thought. He'd played excellently at beater, and had gotten the position after being watched by the team for only around ten minutes. To both Harry and Ron's surprise both Dean and Seamus tried out for the second beater position. While Seamus did fairly well, Dean surprised them all and seemed the best candidate along with Ron for the two positions.

    The only damper on Ron's mood was the fact that Ginny had far surpassed him at keeping, though he admitted candidly to Harry, when he'd been keeper he'd not had the motivation that he had as a beater. Of course, Harry realized the speech he'd just given Ron before they'd flown out onto the field might have had something to do with that. He'd reminded Ron of how close Ginny and Malfoy had seemed to be getting, and then let it slip about how he envied beaters sometimes as they were the ones who usually got the chance to spank Malfoy from his broom.

    "That's true," Ron had muttered to himself, smirking evilly. "Accidents happen all the time on the field…I could waste him."

    It also helped that Harry told him he'd always imagined the bludgers carrying the faces of his enemies on them. Every time one was given a hard thrash, he sighed to Ron; he could imagine Voldemort's face being pounded into hamburger.

    "Target practice for future beatings. I like it." Ron rubbed his hands together, now beaming so thoroughly with depravity that Harry pinched himself hard so he wouldn't laugh.

    Ron had taken everything Harry had said and ruminated on it for a moment before shooting him a sinister, "I know what you're trying to do but I'm liking it," grin. He'd then jumped on his Firebolt and torn off across the field. He'd scared the shit out of the Gryffindor chasers who were chosen to play the "opposing team".

    Harry smiled brashly. After seven years, he knew how to get to Ron.

    The next week came and went with no new surprises. Classes were much the same, and Hermione, although she'd given up the extra classes she'd wanted to take when the time turner had been stolen, was still strung out with nerves owing to the fact that graduation N.E.W.T.s were only around seven months away. She kept Harry and Ron up studying until around ten o'clock at night every time she was able, and even Harry had to admit that it was getting a little annoying. He loved her with all of his soul, but Hermione was more than a little obsessed as far as he was concerned. Seven months was plenty of time. Nevertheless, Hermione never relented.

    The Healer classes had been keeping her busier than usual as well. Madame Pomfrey had told her only last week that she was farther advanced than she'd ever seen a student at the level she was on now, and her skills were such that it seemed as if she'd been working the infirmary since the beginning of her schooling. Hermione seemed to have the 'magic touch', and was able to recall every healing charm and potion elixir needed when asked with an almost photographic memory. Also the healing process, a bewildered Madame Pomfrey had explained to Professor McGonnagol over a cup of hot tea one cool evening, seemed to take much less time than normal when Hermione was in on it. Pomfrey was already allowing the girl to oversee some of the injured and sick students herself, and it seemed almost as if her touch alone began the recuperation, as well as instantly calming fears and soothing frayed nerves. The nurse had never seen anything like it, and told Hermione that if she wanted to pursue the career field, she would recommend her to St. Mungo's the moment she graduated.

    Of course as soon as Hermione had been given the news she'd flown down the halls and into the Gryffindor common room and almost knocked Harry over with a full body hug and a beaming smile. She told he and Ron all about it, right as Ron was about to crush Harry's queen with his rook. Ron smiled feebly at her and made his move, dully watching the rook trounce up and down on the queen until nothing was left but dust. Hermione's news had shifted the focus from the game right as he was ready to savor his winning moment, and the wind had been cruelly ripped from his sails.

    ***************************************

    The Saturday morning of the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, dawned clear and crisply cold. Harry opened his eyes early as he'd set his drapes to wake him by eight, and watched sleepily from under his quilt as the sun magicked the heavy golden velvet open centimeter by centimeter. Very soon fresh, new beams of bright light would be making their way across his face, but, he smiled drowsily, at least he had around half an hour of gray darkness left in his room.

    He shifted for a moment and found something warm and soft spooned against his body before he remembered Hermione stumbling into the room and crawling under the covers with him around two a.m. He eased his head up to rest on a hand and elbow and gently removed a strand of hair stuck to her lips, smiling tenderly down at the slim form relaxed against him. She was dressed in a pair of his boxer shorts and a tank top, and laid with her mouth relaxed slightly open, long, dark lashes sweeping the top of her smooth cheekbones, and her hair cascading in a wavy caramel mess around her face, neck and down her back. He thought she never looked prettier than when she was sleeping. It gave him a chance to study her beautiful features at length, memorizing each one for future thought.

    The sleeping together, in it's sinless form, had started some weeks earlier. It seemed that one inevitably found themselves in need of the other after some insecurity from the day or a nightmare, and kept finding themselves ultimately together, snuggling away the darkness in one bed or the other. After that it had become habit. It was much too hard to go back to the coldness of an empty bed when you'd had the warmth of a shared one. It had gotten to the point that neither could get to sleep without the other there. A few times they'd been unable to share the closeness without the almost overpowering, burning desire to share more and had separated, but it didn't last for long. By now it felt too natural, too close, too much like a part of one was missing if the other wasn't there, to sleep apart. So Harry had somehow reigned in his hormones to allow Hermione to be there with him. He didn't know she had to do the same thing every night as well. Images of Snape teaching naked Potions usually did the trick.

    Too soon for Harry's liking the sun's brightness reached his bed, and he threw an arm over his face letting his head fall back down onto the pillow in defeat. Hermione groaned when the first shaft hit her eyes and turned over to face Harry, keeping her eyes closed and burying her face in his chest.

    "Why, why, why…" she muffled against his chest.

    Harry smoothed her hair down and scooted lower in the bed to gaze at her.

    "Why what, love?"

    The sun beamed brighter and she groaned unhappily again, finally pushing herself away from him and letting the light hit her full in the face. She squinted until she could take the brightness.

    "Why did you have to set the drapes so early? Harry, it's Saturday for Merlin's sake…"

    She humphed angrily and burrowed back under the covers. Harry chuckled at her and sat up Indian-style, yanking them up and away and causing her wild hair to fly up and cover her face. She blew huffily at it as she lay board straight on the bed.

    "Give the covers back."

    "It's Quidditch Saturday, 'Mione. I told Ron I'd meet him on the pitch at eight thirty to practice…Don't make me wake you the hard way."

    "Why do I have to wake up!?" she whined in a most unHermione-like way.

    "Because we share everything, remember?" said Harry smiling evilly and brandishing claw-like fingers at her. "Get up or suffer the consequences."

    Hermione blew the hair from her face and turned widened eyes toward him. "Harry don't…I'll hex you into next fall…"

    "Get up, then…I mean it Hermione, I'm coming for you…"

    Harry moved closer, and Hermione finally raked her eyes over him. His unruly black hair stuck up all over his head. Large meadow-green eyes, clear as crystal, unfettered with glasses, glinted with mischief in a smooth, handsome face smirking with a roguish grin. Sculpted, firm biceps led to strong forearms and long lean fingers… snitch-catching fingers. A chiseled, bare, olive-skinned torso with a line of fine, soft black hair trailed southward, down the carved planes of his stomach to disappear beneath elastic, leading toward…well. Only a pair of heavy boxer shorts covered muscular thighs strong enough to tightly grip a broom handle on their own while the rider used his hands to reach toward his goal. Slim masculine hips...not to mention a butt that was as hard and tight as...ohmygod…

    (YUM, says the author ;0)

    By all that was holy and good…Heavens above…Great Merlin's ghost…She felt her pulse quickening and her heart thrumming hard against her ribcage. What she wouldn't give to let her fingers travel down that soft black trail of hair, moving downward, downward… To feel his Quidditch roughened hands on her body…nimble snitch-catching fingers; skilled fingers gliding lazily down her skin… To gaze into the verdant pools of his eyes, burning lustfully into hers as she had seen them do, his hands roaming ever so slowly down... closer and closer to…

    Hermione quickly jumped up and was out of the bed in an instant, leaving Harry looking slightly, adorably disappointed and lowering his hands. She gazed at him and brought a small fist to her mouth, chewing on the knuckles nervously. Get a grip Hermione…get a bloody grip…greatgodhe'ssexy…

    "I was only going to tickle you a little, 'Mione. No need to be so jumpy! Merlin, you look like I was going to attack you," he grinned.

    Attack me. Ohgodjusthangon... "I just…I..you're right. I should get up…lot of studying to do…besides I told Madame Pomfrey I'd help her in the infirmary if there are any injuries at the game today. You know, there usually are…"

    With that she ran from the room and grabbed her robe from her own room, shutting herself in the bathroom and immediately turning on a cooler shower than normal. Harry sat on the bed looking slightly puzzled.

    The stands at the Quidditch field were filled to the brimming that afternoon, and the excited crowd of hundreds, all colored in either red and gold, or green and silver, made so much noise that most were unable to hear the person right next to them. The afternoon was much like the morning had been; cool, crisp and brightly clear with a hint of a very cool autumn in the air. A chilly breeze swept through the bleachers and Hermione tugged her robes tightly around her, fitting her red and gold scarf tighter around her neck.

    She sat squashed rigidly against Hagrid in her seat and clamped her hands tightly together to avoid trembling. She peered around and above the crowd of fans waving red "Gryffindor" banners; her eyes randomly wandering toward the Gryffindor game tower where she knew Harry, Ron and Ginny were, along with the rest of their team. She could imagine Harry lecturing them at this very minute, rehashing Quidditch moves, and trying his best not to sound like Oliver Wood but failing miserably at it.

    (Oliver had stayed around Hogwarts to oversee the games. He'd taken the position on after Madame Hootch left, deciding with Dumbledore's approval to continue coaching his favorite team even though he was no longer in school to play on it. But he'd finally decided to leave the position of Gryffindor team captain to Harry this year and concentrate solely on being overseer of the game.)

    Hermione watched Oliver's lank form move toward the middle of the field, dragging the Quidditch game chest behind him, and she nervously shifted in her seat. Agreeing to help Madame Pomfrey with any injuries after the game had reminded her of how dangerous the sport really could be. And now, not only did she have Harry to worry about, but Ron and Ginny as well.

    Hagrid, dressed warmly in a gigantic muggle-looking plaid shirt and his usual brown trousers, glanced sideways at her and gently patted her clenched hands with his gigantic one. "Now, now 'Ermione. Ain' no need in gettin' yoursel' worked up like ya are. Everythin'll work out jes' fine. You'll see."

    Hermione turned stiffly to him. "It's just such a dangerous game, Hagrid. You've seen how Harry dives breakneck for the snitch! And Ron…Merlin's beard I don't know how he's going to be with…beating those hard balls. And Ginny's so small…"

    "Ain' no smaller'n you, there," commented Hagrid. "Well, a bit shorter…"

    "…might get hurt what with the quaffle hurtling toward her and those…those flying balls and…" Hermione continued worriedly as if Hagrid hadn't spoken.

    "Well tha's the beaters job then, isn' it?" said Hagrid. "Ron an' Seamus are there to keep th' bludgers from gettin' to 'er…"

    "…and the boys are so rough out there! Don't seem to care a bit that they're rushing toward the ground at a thousand miles an hour…"

    "Well I don' think it's that fas'…" put in Hagrid.

    "…too many times disaster has been averted by only that much…" Hermione held up a centimeters worth of measurement.

    "Well now any sport worth playin' is gonna be rough…"

    "…swatting those balls at each other and punching and ramming…"

    "They're called bludgers 'Ermione…an' well, tha' other rubbish is considered foul then, isn' it?…"

    "…always just dodging disaster, what with…"

    "…well Quidditch can be a dodgy game, but…"

    "…just seems way too dangerous to me. Along with all of the other things I mentioned… They. Could. Fall. Fall Hagrid! And how high up are they, I ask you!? It's just…it seems like an unnecessary risk to me…just to play a silly game."

    After finishing her rant she finally turned to look anxiously at Hagrid. "Well? Don't you agree? Aren't you going to say anything!?"

    Hagrid opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before regarding Hermione affectionately and patting her fatherly like on the head. He'd become used to her rants after seven years. "Well 'Ermione…I reckon boys will be boys…er, rather…an' Ginny a' course."

    Hermione gave off a rattled sigh and turned to see Harry, Ron and Ginny waving at she and Hagrid from atop the Quidditch tower with beaming smiles. She waved feebly back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

    Seamus Finnegan sat up in the announcer's box nervously chewing a nail as he turned his head to look at all of the professors behind him. After he'd failed to get a position on Gryffindor's team, he'd decided to ask McGonnagol if he could take over being announcer for the games. She had given him a hard once-over and agreed, but had added in no uncertain terms that if he tried to commentate in any way like Lee Jordan had, she would lock him in the most stocked supply closet she could find with Peeves the Poltergeist for a whole evening. Seamus shuddered as he of thought what horrors might await him. Peeves, an endless supply of inkbottles, sharp quills, heavy books, brooms and mops and pails, and a lifetimes worth of confiscated pranks, mostly nicked from George and Fred before they'd graduated…a bead of sweat trickled down his back. He'd be dead before morning.

    He swallowed hard and saw the signal from Oliver in the middle of the pitch that both teams were ready.

    Clearing his throat nervously and glancing back at a hard-nosed McGonnagol one last time, he spoke into the magical microphone in front of him. "Here we are witches and wizards of Hogwarts…the very first game of the season…Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

    The students in the stands jumped up and erupted in wild cheers, and Hermione stood with them, trying her best to peer around heads and shoulders toward the Gryffindor tower.

    "On the right side of the field, led by team captain Harry Potter, and by far the best team I've seen yet…"

    "Seamus," warned McGonnagol loudly.

    He flushed and continued. "Gryffindor!"

    Seven red and gold blurry figures shot out of the tower in a "V" formation, whizzing around the field and coming to rest at the opposite end from where they'd started, hovering far above the ground next to three staggered rings atop long metal poles. The rings had been decorated with red and gold streamers to mark Gryffindor's goal posts.

    Hermione finally spied Harry through her binoculars; a small, slightly obscured figure with wildly blowing black hair straddling his broom confidently and turning to look at each of his teammates, pointing at players and obviously giving them instructions. The knot in her stomach tightened painfully. For some odd reason she felt as if something were off; as if some premonition of bad things to come was clenching and unclenching in her chest. But everywhere around her, students were laughing and joking with each other; waving banners and gazing happily through binoculars…nothing seemed amiss.

    "And on the left side of the field, led by new team captain Draco Malfoy, this year, Slytherin!"

    Once again, seven blurred figures, dressed this time in green and silver, came zooming out of their tower to fly in a successive formation, and the Slytherin stands erupted in wild cheering.

    However, when the players rounded the bend and came toward the Gryffindor stands, all seven came out of formation to perform dangerously low fly-byes, buzzing so closely over students heads that a few of them had to duck. A roar of objection erupted from the Gryffindors, and their team. The Slytherin players finished their taunting and finally flew on, coming to hang motionless on the side of the field where three goal posts with green and silver streamers pointed proudly into the air.

    Hermione turned her binoculars to the seven Slytherin hovering on the left side, and saw them laughing uncontrollably, with Malfoy, of course, up front and foremost. She wouldn't have been surprised if it was his idea.

    "FOUL!" cried Seamus, jumping to his feet and screaming into the microphone, "Intentional fly-by! Points should be deducted, professor! Ruddy mongs!"

    "That's enough Mr. Finnegan!" shouted McGonnagol furiously as she wrenched the mic from his hands and lifted it to her own mouth. Her voice suddenly became amplified. "Behavior of that sort will not be tolerated! Anything like that happens again and the game will be forfeited to Gryffindor!" She slammed the microphone back down in front of Seamus, causing a loud reverb to ring throughout the stadium, and threw herself back down on the bench. Even Snape looked unamused.

    Malfoy smirked from somewhere near the goal posts. He knew exactly how far he could go before heading into serious trouble. He snickered in an almost bored way until he let his eyes meet Harry's at the far end of the field.

    Potter gave him a scathing look and then pointed at him, finishing with a slit-throat gesture. The meaning was obvious. 'Stand clear…we're coming for you…' Right. Come on then, Potter. Let's do it…

    From the middle of the field, Oliver Wood kicked the old wooden trunk open, and the bludgers and snitch darted upward to fly wildly around the pitch. Harry let the snitch leave his sight as he focused on Oliver. He knew he couldn't keep his eyes on it yet; not until the game started.

    "Let's do this right!" yelled Oliver upward, raising a hand over squinted eyes. "Players to your positions!"

    Ginny stayed in front of the goal posts, as well as the Slytherin keeper, and Ron and Dean moved into the middle a bit more, mimicking the movements of the opposing beaters. Harry flew high above them all toward the outside of the proceedings and shot a look of disgust Malfoy's way. Malfoy had also taken position and generously sent the look back Harry's way.

    Marcus Wallaby, a Gryffindor chaser, and Jarius Hemdarin, a perpetually angry chaser from Slytherin's team flew into the middle of the pitch, high above Oliver's head. They shook hands quickly and gazed at each other with loathing, waiting tensely for the moment at hand.

    Oliver hesitated a moment and then with a grunt, pitched the quaffle high into the air.

    "And the game begins!" screamed a high-strung Seamus Finnegan.

    Hemdarin immediately rammed into Wallaby and knocked him off course, grabbing the quaffle and heading at break-neck speed towards Ginny. She steadied and placed herself in front of the middle ring, ready in an instant to move left or right if necessary. But Dean, from the left spotted a bludger and batted it hard towards Jarius. The ball punched him hard in the side and he grunted, losing the quaffle. Peter Gallor quickly dove downward and grabbed it up, tucking it under his arm and speeding toward the Slytherin goal.

    "…and Hemdarin loses the quaffle! Hard lines there mate…"

    McGonnagol scowled but Seamus paid no attention.

    "Gallor scoops it up…WATCH IT THERE, PETER!" McGonnagol swatted him hard on the back of the head and he was startled.

    "PEEVES," she mouthed with narrowed eyes.

    "Augh!… Umm, I meant, a bludger narrowly misses Gallor and he's speeding toward the goal…" continued Seamus, shakily.

    The Slytherin keeper, the newly appointed Theodore Nott stiffened and watched Gallor carefully, finally deciding to move towards the outer left loop.

    "…Gallor lobs the quaffle and…OH! He's done a Porskoff play! Goal Gryffindor!"

    Gallor had faked throwing the quaffle and when Nott had flinched and headed that way, Peter chucked it through the right lower loop. Nott scowled evilly at him, and Hermione watched Harry through her binoculars, screaming his congratulations at Gallor, who was beaming proudly. She could also see Malfoy, hovering on the upper almost outside of the field, yelling angrily at Nott. It gave her a grim bit of satisfaction.

    "…and Gryffindor now in possession of the quaffle coming up on the left hand side…OH NICE ONE, RON!… Weasley crashes a bludger into Malfoy as he sees him heading downward, knocking him off course…perhaps he spotted the snitch?"

    Potter gave Weasley a thumbs up but hadn't intended to follow Malfoy anyway. It had been obvious he was trying a Wronski Feint. He hadn't yet spotted even a glint from the snitch.

    "OH, and Millhouse loses the quaffle to Hemdarin who's closing in now on Ginny Weasley and Ooh…narrowly misses a bludger sent by Ron Weasley…quite protective of his sister, there…WOW! Nice Double Eight Loop there, Ginny! But it wasn't enough…Goal Slytherin!"

    Ten points were added to Slytherin's scoreboard as well and the game was tied.

    "…FLACKING! That's five foul points to Slytherin!…watch it there Gryffindors, no crowding the other players!"

    Once again McGonnagol swatted Seamus on the back of the head and mouthed 'PEEVES' even more furiously.

    "And no helping out your team, Finnegan," snarled Snape as he leaned forward and looked Seamus straight in the eyes.

    "…Ah, umm yes…" continued Seamus, swiping the sweat from his forehead. It was so hard to remember that he wasn't just a spectator anymore. "…and Wallaby heads toward Nott yet again…will he make it!?"

    Wallaby was hit on the arm by a bludger and howled but managed to toss the quaffle anyway, but instead of swatting it back outward toward the field, Nott caught it and tucked it under his arm for a very brief moment, choosing quickly which way to toss it and hoping no one noticed.

    "QUAFFLE POCKING!" screamed Seamus wildly, "FIVE FOUL POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

    'Damn it…' Hermione was a hundred yards away and she could still make out the curses Malfoy was mouthing. She smiled again in satisfaction, but still couldn't shake the sickening feeling that something bad was approaching…

    "…and Thomas performs a nice Starfish and Stick move, whacking a bludger Hemdarin's way. Misses by an inch! OH! And Morter of Slytherin knocks it back toward him…OH! Watch it there, Dean! Punched the end of his Shooting Star…he's spinning…there. He's gained control again…Weasley gains ground toward…WOW! Nice Bludger Backbeat there, Weasley! He seems to have it in for Draco Malfoy today…"

    Ron smiled nastily at Draco but Harry caught his eye and shook his head a bit…concentrate on the chasers for now…

    Harry circled the field with Malfoy on the opposite side. It was becoming desperate, and the snitch was nowhere to be seen.

    "…Parkin's Pince maneuver by Millhouse and Nott catches the brunt end of it, barely keeping the quaffle out…Slytherin now in control…no Gryffindor…no make that Slytherin again…"

    Harry spotted a glint of gold somewhere near the bottom of the Slytherin stands and tensed up…Malfoy had seen it too…

    "…ohmygod what a move! Transylvanian tackle done by Morter! Very good, I must say…ARGH! Haversacking! That was a foul…five points to Gryffindor…but it doesn't seem to matter; the quaffle's pitched toward Ginny Weasley and three Gryffindor's try a Hawkshead formation…TOO LATE! Goal Slytherin!"

    Then a minute later… "GOAL GRYFFINDOR!"

    The crowd of students were going wild, the colors of red, gold, green and silver moving in the air like giant waves as they stood and sat again with every move their team made.

    Hermione spotted Harry when he tensed up, and saw Malfoy do the same, and both were now hurtling downward at lightning speed toward the ground, bending low on their brooms, wind whipping robes of red and green behind them. She fought the urge to cry out and cover her eyes.

    "…BY MERLIN! And I think the snitch has been spotted! Look at that Sloth Grip Roll by Potter! Malfoy nearly lost it there, but he regains control…I SEE IT NOW!"

    Draco and Harry were neck and neck, ramming into each other, skimming the ground and performing difficult moves so fast that most were unable to make them out. The crowd had become eerily silent.

    "LOBBING! Excessive use of the elbows by Malfoy…no Potter…no Malfoy…no Potter and Malfoy…ah who gives a rub, and they're gaining fast!"

    The snitch was moving erratically in front of them, a blur of gold and wings as it darted up and down, forward and backward, moving at impossibly fast speeds. Harry could feel the wind shoving his glasses back painfully onto his eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter. Malfoy's fingers were centimeters from the golden ball…so were his…

    Both leaned so low to their brooms that they seemed like one with them. Harry's Flametorch was performing awesomely well, but Malfoy's Nimbus 2005 was an excellent broom as well.

    The snitch began zooming above student's heads in the stands, they bent low, murmurs and cries coming from the audience. Harry zoomed so low over Hermione and Hagrid's head that she could almost reach out and touch his boot.

    But then, the unthinkable happened.

    As they made their way around the field yet again, this time whizzing over the heads of the Slytherin spectators and even the teachers, Malfoy had gone too fast and low to pull up in time and ended up ramming the end of his broom handle with head-on-collision speed into one of the wooden pillars supporting the stands. The sudden break gave Harry enough time to close his fingers over the snitch, and the crowd erupted in a roar, until they saw Malfoy fall almost gracefully from his broom. He plummeted almost fifty feet downward to land with a sickening thud on his back.

    A loud gasp and some screams came and instant later, and every teacher in the stands immediately began making their way quickly from their seats. Oliver Wood, who was closest, ran onto the field first, with Ginny Weasley zooming downward only moments later, and Harry dropping down neatly beside her.

    All three knelt quickly beside Malfoy. He was sprawled in an unnatural fashion; one arm and one leg at crooked angles, and a thin trail of blood trickling from frighteningly pale lips.

    Not giving a shit who saw, Ginny cried out and bent low over him, placing her cheek over his face.

    "I don't feel any breath!" she screamed in a panicky voice. "He's not breathing!"

    "Move aside, move aside," panted a pale-faced Madame Pomfrey who had been sitting near in case something like this were to occur. Hermione joined her only moments later, with the rest of the teachers desperately trying to keep the other horrified students at bay, and keep them off the field. The members of both Gryffindor's and Slytherin's teams landed quickly all around them and stood back, nervously glancing at one another or whispering to each other.

    Pomfrey checked Malfoy's pulse and then pulled out her wand and pointed it at his chest. "Pulmo impigritus!"

    Suddenly Draco's eyes flew open, bloodshot and unseeing. His lungs drew in a ragged breath, and then continued inhaling and exhaling on their own, although shallowly.

    Ginny exhaled in a loud sob and placed her hands on either side of his face, shaking it a little bit.

    "D..Draco? Can you hear me?"

    Ron, standing to the side next to Dean fought off the strong urge to drag Ginny away from the ferret. Although he wanted to, he knew that if he did she might never forgive him.

    Draco continued to breathe, but Ginny saw no recognition spark in his lifeless gray eyes. In fact, it was almost as if he was gazing through her. She shook him again until Madame Pomfrey admonished her not to, speaking in the same breath to Hermione to levitate him and follow her to the infirmary.

    "Locomotor Draco Malfoy!" said Hermione pointing her wand at Malfoy. His limp body rose upward and obediently followed Hermione and Pomfrey as they quickly made their ways across the field and began to wade their way through the throng of chattering, curious students being held back mostly by Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore.

    **********************************

    Ginny, Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, and Snape all trailed into the infirmary behind Hermione and Pomfrey, and stood aside as Poppy worked over Draco, now sprawled out on one of the infirmary's impossibly white beds.

    Hermione stood to the side, dancing on the balls of her feet and chewing on her knuckles, and kept making little movements as if to jump immediately should Pomfrey call on her to help. She hadn't yet assisted in any case this bad, but since her eyes kept inadvertently traveling to Ginny's stricken face, it was all she could do not to try to help with something…anything.

    Pomfrey muttered a few more spells over Malfoy, but still the unblinking, unseeing expression stared through the group standing to the side. His eerie bloodshot gray eyes seemed to be looking straight at Harry, who flinched and tried to look away, but kept inevitably gazing back again. They seemed to him almost to look accusing. You did this…you caused me to fall…

    Harry knew it wasn't true and yet couldn’t shake the feeling that if Draco were to die that it might somehow be his fault. He stood covered in dirt and sweat, his hair matted down on his head, and his chin downward. But his gaze rolled up over the rim of his glasses to meet Malfoy's blank stare once again. He nervously brought a thumb up to chew on the nail.

    Seeing that there was nothing she could do to help Pomfrey at the moment, Hermione moved over to Harry, and gently pulled the hand from his face.

    "Harry," she whispered, "I know what you're thinking. It's not your fault."

    "I led him towards those stands, Hermione," Harry whispered raggedly.

    "You were chasing the snitch, mate," said Ron beside him, "You didn't do this."

    "I could've gone round them," Harry added quickly, chancing a glance over at Ginny, who stood near Professor Dumbledore. He had a wizened hand on her back, and she had a fist pressed to her mouth, tears running over the knuckles.

    "I was showing off…thinking he wouldn't chance to follow me. Damn it…look at Ginny…Look at what I did."

    Ginny leaned on Dumbledore who gazed down at her with pity, his eyes shining a bit. They watched as Poppy levitated a broad white slab of metal with an eyepiece over Draco and pointed her wand at it, saying clearly, "Perspicuus Corpus."

    The slab seemed to glow for a moment, and Pomfrey then placed an eye over what resembled a monocular attached to the top of the metal.

    After a few moments of staring into the scope and moving the slab to different areas of Draco's body, pointing to some with her wand and muttering healing spells, she stood erect and gazed down at the pale blonde in the bed in front of her. She turned toward the small group behind her with a morose look on her face.

    "Well, I'm afraid I've done all I can for now," she said with a defeated sigh. "I don't believe he has any brain damage, but he has quite a bit of damage to his ribs, not to mention a broken arm and leg. I've done what I could, and healed the bones, though I wager it'll be a long while before he's able to do much of anything. I've lifted the breathing charm and at least he's doing that on his own, now."

    "Oh gods," sobbed Ginny, "Isn't there anything else you can do!? He looks really pale, and…"

    "He has some bad internal injuries, I'm afraid," said Pomfrey. "I looked through the internacorpus machine and healed the ones I could. But there's one area inside his lungs that I wasn't able to get to. If it doesn't stop bleeding on it's own, I'm afraid his lungs could fill with blood. He won't be able to breathe."

    Ginny began to choke on her own sobs once again, and Ron moved over to her side placing a hand on her shoulder.

    She looked up at him with fury shining brightly in her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Ron if you're coming over here to go off on him in ANY WAY you can get the hell out of it! I don't care what you think or say…I like him and that's the bloody end of it!"

    No one said anything at the moment. Ron merely nodded at her and held his arms out. Ginny hesitated only a moment before throwing herself against her brother's chest and beginning to sob and shake uncontrollably.

    An hour later, no one was left in the infirmary save Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny, all of whom had been allowed to stay by Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. The whole of the infirmary was covered in darkness, the only light coming from a small candle lamp above Malfoy's bed. It cast eerie shadows over the faces of the four sitting next to him.

    Hermione was to come and get Pomfrey immediately should anything change with Draco, and was admonished especially to watch over his breathing. Draco had as of yet, not made a single motion, except for the rhythmic up and down movements of his now bare chest.

    Ron sighed in the silence of the room. "Well, at least we won the game."

    Ginny had been resting her head on the bed, staring into Draco's eyes and watching for any signs of life, but suddenly sat bolt upright, her gaze shooting dangerous daggers her brother's way.

    "Well, wasn't that wholly inappropriate," she seethed quietly.

    Ron hung his head. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just trying to lighten the situation."

    Harry and Hermione glanced quickly at one another before returning their gazes back to Malfoy.

    "Well do us all a favor, and DON'T TRY," she responded nastily.

    Hermione cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "Ginny, you shouldn't attack Ron. He's only trying to help. He didn’t mean anything by it."

    Ginny turned an angry gaze Hermione's way, but spotted the pleading look she had on her face and calmed down. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just…I'm…not myself, right now."

    Harry shifted in his chair. "Love will do that to a person."

    This time three shocked glances came his way, and it was Harry's turn to look abashed. "I'm sorry. I…I spoke out of turn, I reckon…" he looked at Hermione quickly and then back at Ginny. "But I would know."

    Ron looked wordlessly at Ginny, whose mouth had suddenly gone dry. She tried to form words for a few moments but found that none would made their way past her throat. Finally she began to try to rasp out a reply.

    "W…well I don't…don't know if that's…only just started to…can't possibly think that…"

    Hermione gave Harry a harsh jab in the thigh in the darkness of the room and he sent her a reproachful look.

    "It's all right Ginny," she said soothingly, "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone…what you feel is completely your own, and…" she sent meaningful glances Harry's and especially Ron's ways. "Completely private."

    Ginny continued to resemble a fish out of water, and Ron noticed quickly that she'd been holding Malfoy's hand the whole time. He scowled unhappily but chose to keep silent.

    "B…but I…nothing to hide…don't have…not sure what you're all thinking…no relationship yet or anything…"

    Ron sat up stiffly in his chair and leaned forward. "YET?" he hissed out angrily, "You mean never. 'Friends' is one thing. The word relationship crosses a whole 'nother line, there Gin…"

    "Ron," said Harry warningly.

    "MY LINE TO CROSS," Ginny leaned forward and whispered back furiously through gritted teeth.

    "Ginny, he's just…" began Hermione.

    "It's not all about you, Ginny," said Ron fiercely, "Think about it…who was it that attacked Hermione last month and set the bloody dark mark over the school!?"

    "Ron, drop it," Harry warned again.

    "That was his father, you git. Not Draco…" spat out Ginny.

    "Haven't yet noticed the resemblance in them, then have you?" Ron replied sarcastically.

    Ginny sat back and narrowed her eyes dangerously at Ron. "How dare you judge him when he can't defend himself, Ron. You have no idea if Draco is like his father…"

    "Look, let's just calm down, all right?" said Hermione holding up her hands in a pleading gesture.

    "I have plenty of ideas on him, Gin and none of them are good," said Ron standing up angrily. "You don't think his father's just waiting to give Draco Voldemort's mark the moment he graduates this year!?"

    "Ron, sit down…please…" said Harry.

    Ginny's wide eyes now flashed so furiously that Hermione thought she might jump over the bed and start beating on her brother. "Well, Ron…I didn't know you were such a Legilimense. Who knew?" she seethed sardonically. "What I'm saying for those of us here too ruddy moronic to understand is that we have NO IDEA what Draco is going to choose, do we!?"

    "And I guess his character thus far is no indicator!?" Ron shot back.

    "Ron, you had best shut you're mouth while you're ahead…" began Ginny hotly but she never got to finish her sentence.

    "Oh gods," Hermione cried out, staring down at Malfoy. "Ron…shut up and go get Madame Pomfrey…his lips are turning blue!"

    Ginny squealed suddenly and dropped Malfoy's hand, falling to her knees beside his bed and staring into his face. His lips were indeed tinged blue, and the shallow breathing he was yet able to do now sounded congested and came out with a horrible gurgling, wheezing sound. His expression had finally changed, but it was one of distress now…and his eyes were turned on Ginny's face as if pleading her to help him take a breath. Ginny began to scream.

    Ron took off out of the room and down the hallway to the left, out of sight, where he could be heard banging on Pomfrey's door and yelling for her to come.

    Harry stood stiffly, looking at Ginny and Hermione.

    "Do something!" Ginny's tearful face turned to Hermione and she desperately gripped at her robes. "Hermione, you're an assistant! Please for the love of Merlin, HELP HIM!"

    Hermione turned her stricken face away from Ginny to look at Harry. "Harry, I don’t know what to do…I've never dealt with this before…"

    Harry shook his head at her and turned to look at Malfoy who was now almost a grayish shade of blue. The gurgling sounds had almost stopped, but that meant that he wasn't fighting as hard to continue breathing.

    " 'Mione..I…"

    "Hermione, PLEASE!" Ginny screamed. She placed her mouth over Malfoy's and began breathing for him, but the air only whistled and crackled in his chest. "WHERE IS MADAME POMFREY!?" She screamed out in frustration before trying to breathe for Malfoy again.

    Hermione placed her hands instinctively on Malfoy's chest, trying to feel whether or not the air was filling his lungs. He was now almost completely gray, and the blue was starting to fade. Come on, Malfoy, breathe! Don't do this…don't do this to Ginny…breathe…

    "RON!" bellowed Harry anxiously, "What's taking so long! HURRY UP!"

    Hermione pressed more firmly on Draco's colorless chest, not realizing she was doing it. Her mind was willing him to wake up…to fight…to breathe…

    Ginny sobbed into his mouth as she continued puffing into his lungs but was realizing that she was losing the battle. Suddenly, when her lips came into contact with Malfoy's again, she received an electric shock that zapped her so badly that she yelled and broke contact with him.

    "WHAT THE HELL…" exclaimed Harry, pulling Ginny away from him.

    Ginny struggled in his grasp. "Harry, let me go for Merlin's sake…I have to help him!"

    Harry held her arm more firmly and pointed to Hermione and Malfoy. "Ginny, look."

    Hermione's eyes were closed, and she seemed to have lost all contact with anything else going on around her. As if she was in a trance, her head bowed low over Malfoy's chest, her hand began to glow a purplish gold color, and the light began to spread over Malfoy's chest and up towards his mouth. An electric field seemed to hover over the whole area, and Harry, along with Ginny vaguely noticed that the hair on their arms and heads was standing up at the roots.

    Hermione's lips moved steadily, as if she were chanting some spell, and she still seemed unaware of what was going on around her. With a sudden gasp of pure astonishment, Ginny saw the grayness fading from Malfoy's skin, her tear-stained face beginning to drain of all color, much like his had been, but more out of shock than anything.

    Breathe, Malfoy…don't do this to Ginny…take a breath…take in some oxygen…Merlin just let the bleeding stop…just let it disappear…just let him breathe…just wake up you idiot… Hermione continued to murmur and began to see the glow of light from behind her eyelids. When she finally opened her eyes, much wider than normal, she saw her hand as if it was glued to the Slytherin's chest, and the purplish glow that seemed to be permeating, digging beneath his skin, down into his body and outward again, as if forging some unseen trail. Her hair was now standing on end, and she saw that the glow had finally detached from her fingers to finish it's journey on Malfoy's body. As quickly as it had begun, the electricity winked out with a loud snap, and Hermione's hand suddenly came loose from his chest.

    Without warning, with a gasp as if from the dead brought back to life, Malfoy's eyes abruptly shone with life, blinking rapidly, and his body arched up from the mattress.

    Ginny screamed and Harry grabbed at Hermione, holding both she and Ginny to him and watching Draco with horror.

    As soon as he exhaled, Draco's body dropped back onto the mattress, and he lay there for a moment, looking exhausted and thoroughly stunned, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

    Pomfrey in her robe and slippers, with Ron running behind her finally rushed to the bed, puffing in absolute terror. She put a hand on Malfoy's head and whispered. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me?" She paused for a moment and then turned to Ron, staring at him accusingly. "Mr. Weasley, is this you're idea of a some idiotic joke!? I assure you life and death is nothing to take lightly! He's not only still breathing, but he's awake!"

    Ginny gasped and Hermione moved weakly up to stand beside Malfoy and Pomfrey to stare at him with eyes blurry with complete disbelief. What had just happened…what in Merlin's name had just happened…

    No one said a word, until Malfoy turned his gray eyes to look at Hermione, not with the usual contempt, but with a look of wonder. "Granger?"

Ginny, Harry, Ron and Poppy's eyes all fell on her, and at that moment, Hermione, feeling weaker than she ever had before, opened her mouth to say something. But nothing escaped her lips but a breath of air, and she promptly passed out, Harry rushing behind to catch her just before she fell.

21. Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

• • Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

    Hermione willed herself to move, to speak; if only she could just move one foot in front of the other she might be able to do something about the horrible scene playing out before her now like some nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. The whole thing was impossibly wrong, false…this was not how it was supposed to be. Voldemort couldn't win…from the moment she'd met Harry Potter on the train some seven years ago, she'd known ultimately that the dark lord would be destroyed. Evil never won in the end, did it? Didn't good always ultimately come out on top?

    Yet, here she was, staring at the immobilised forms of Harry, Ron; perpendicular to Harry, and herself, sprawled out at their feet. They were in the dark Forest of Kavan, she realised now, as she saw the burned out ruins of what must have been the dark lord's rebuilt home, now destroyed again.

    Voldemort stood above them, tall, fully formed, and filled with an unholy glee as if he knew some secret that he was about to divulge. Death Eaters stood all around him, and…dementors? What were they doing there? Weren't they still guarding Azkaban? No…she reminded herself, they had defected. Of course, they had joined Voldemort. Who else was there to unite with? If they weren't with the ministry anymore there was only one other side to go.

    Voldemort was addressing his followers, spouting off some egotistical speech he'd probably been planning for years in expectation of this very event. Hermione took that opportunity to gaze at herself, Harry and Ron on the ground. If she listened closely, she could hear what Harry was saying to them…

    "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…this is all my fault…"

    "Shut up Harry," Ron's voice seemed hoarse and he turned his head as far to the side as he could. "You can't take all the blame for this you selfish git…We all failed…all of us."

    "But I…"

    "Ron's right," this was herself talking now, and Hermione leaned forward, almost in anguish herself at the painful expressions on the three faces. "We're all to blame…we all made the pact, remember? We're all in this together, we…"

    All in what? Where was she? What in Merlin's name was going on!?

    "Never mind," the Harry on the ground spoke up again, "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, I…but I won't die without telling you both how much you mean to me."

    Ohmygod… So Voldemort was about to kill them… Hermione wondered to herself how she could've expected anything less…

    Harry was taking one painful turn after another, pouring out last words of love and friendship to both she and Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to scream at him…to snap him out of his lethargy…to make him do something; after all, he almost didn't need his wand anymore… However, not a word escaped her mouth, not one sound from her throat. She was bound here to watch herself and the two most important people in the world to her die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd always hated the feeling of helplessness, even to the point of almost hating dependence on anything or anyone. But now the absolute tangibility of it washed over her like some giant tidal wave, shoving her down into the sand, scraping her body backward into the undertow, sapping her strength and stealing her breath.

    Voldemort was now gesturing around himself to his followers like a king addressing his army. "With the death of these comes the dawning of a new era…A time in which darkness will rule once again…"

    Hermione tried desperately to scream, waving her arms and willing the three on the ground to turn their heads and see her, but nothing happened. It was as if she were in a dream. All she could do was watch the three captives on the ground grow increasingly despondent. Please get up...please do something! DON'T GIVE UP!

    "…Ron…you're like my brother. Y…you don't know how much you mean to me…"

    Merlin, ohgod, anyone...oh my god, he's coming toward them…

    " 'Mione, I love you so much…You'll never know…how much…"

    NO PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN...

    "Harry, don't…" the Hermione on the ground was sobbing now, as much as she was.

    "I wish I could've had more time with you. I don't know why we can't…but I want you to know, you mean everything to me."

    The Hermione watching fell to her knees in torment, blind to the fact that on either side of her knelt two others doing the same thing…hands to their faces, screaming in silence, trying in vain to move forward, to intercede. Unknown to her, she mouthed at the same time the exact words that her counter-self, lying on the ground, responded to Harry with in utter agony.

    "O god Harry, I love you too…"

    No more words were said because Voldemort had chosen that moment to finish his speech and was now bearing forward toward them, followed closely by two Death Eaters.

    "You two take whichever you want," he said, and moved with practised ease and an expression of rapture over toward Harry. "But Potter's mine."

    After these words were spoken, Hermione could hear no more. Her hearing was beginning to fade and she realised with a sickening jerk downward of her heart, that this was not going to end the way she had hoped.

    She watched in pure horror as Lucius Malfoy lowered the hood of his black robe and murdered Ron with one lazy movement of his wand. She watched with a sick lurch of her stomach as the Hermione on the ground turned to Harry and gave him one last unheard admonishment, and perhaps a goodbye, before the other Death Eater killed her as well.

    Finally, as it was only Harry left to deal with, the sky above her suddenly grew darker. She realised that it had begun growing darker the moment Ron had died, but now, the change was all the more noticeable. What was once the orange, pink and dusky purple of a new dawn had now turned to a dark ashen grey, and some of the clouds that swept the sky had suddenly turned into a horrendous tornado, stabbed frequently with huge bolts of red lightning. The vortex came whirling towards the group on the ground, roaring louder and louder the closer it approached, and finally halted to hover above Voldemort's head. Rather than being alarmed by this fact however, the dark lord looked up into the eye of it as if greeting an old friend, and turned his attention back to Harry, who lay on the ground with a look on his face that voiced his indifference now to the situation. Hermione knew the moment he had seen Ron and her die that he had given up the will to fight. He had no emotion left…none even for himself.

    She watched, paralysed with shock, as Voldemort chose a killing curse for Harry; watched as Harry twitched in the last throes of death, and as she began to slip gradually into unconsciousness, watched, through half-blinded eyes as the dark lord opened his mouth abnormally wide, jaw magically unhinged, and began to swallow the vortex whole.

    Ruby red lightning now stabbed the rest of the sky, thunder roared like a giant beast, and the dark grey clouds above began roiling and surging like a gigantic whirlpool, like the forming of a massive black hole…like the earth mourning for the darkness fallen.

    As she slipped away, Hermione's last thoughts were not for herself, for Ron, even for Harry, but for what the wizarding, and muggle worlds had just lost with the death of them. The prophecy had foretold that either Harry or Voldemort would die… 'FOR NONE CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…' she'd just never dreamed that it would be Harry Potter.

    Void. Emptiness. Darkness, whole and unbroken… drained of light. There would be none any longer. Light had just died.

    ****************

    "Hermione love, wake up!" Harry frantically tapped on her cheek once, twice…and still she cried as if her heart had just been ripped away. He couldn't get through to her. "RON! Go get Madame Pomf…"

    "I'm on it." Ron scrambled from his seat on the side of Hermione's bed and flew down the hallway once again to get Madame Pomfrey, but this time she'd heard the scream and was already sprinting down the hallway.

    Ginny, perched on the side of Draco's bed beside Hermione's, was abruptly turned from her conversation with him and her mouth gaped open as she watched Hermione sob hysterically, while Harry tried to soothe her.

    "What's wrong with her…" drawled Draco remotely as if asking about something as mundane as the weather. He sat up with a short grunt and peered around Ginny.

    Harry didn't answer and continued his ministrations with Hermione, but his jaw was locked tight with anger. Hermione had just saved the bastard's life and he sounded about as concerned as a curious bystander.

    "Move aside," said Madame Pomfrey briskly as she dropped to her knees beside Hermione's head.

    Harry backed away beside Ron as Pomfrey took Hermione's face in her hands and with one hand, gave her cheek a hard slap.

    Harry surged forward angrily, only just held back by Ron. "What in the hell do you think you're…"

    Hermione opened her eyes and looked around wildly, finally, hesitantly bringing her hand up to rest on her stinging cheek and blinking hard to get her bearings back. She stared up at Poppy with a hurtful expression.

    Ron grunted in surprise at the nurse's actions. "Modern medicine…"

    Pomfrey gazed at Hermione apologetically. "You were hysterical Ms. Granger. I'm sorry I struck you. Was it a nightmare?"

    "A nightmare…" repeated Hermione, wiping away stray tears; quite the understatement. However, she imagined had Pomfrey not slapped her to bring her awake, she might have continued in the awful imagery for longer. "Yes. The worst kind."

    Harry moved back to her side, sitting on the side of her bed and taking her face in his hands, tenderly wiping away remaining tears with his thumbs. He helped her to sit up and she sat back against the headboard, fighting off the dizzying spell that threatened to make her sick.

    Pomfrey sighed. "I thought as much. Well…are you all right now? Do you need anything?"

    "I need to get out of this infirmary," said Hermione in an annoyed tone. "I've spent way too much time in here lately and I've got too much work to make up for to be setting up residence in here like this!"

    "That's our Hermione," said Ron dryly.

    "Yeah," said Harry with a relieved expression. "I think she'll be all right now."

    Pomfrey pursed her lips and shook her head, insisting on giving Hermione a thorough check up before "being the judge of that", as she put it.

    A few minutes later, she declared Hermione 'fit as a flying fyxofloggle' and gave her permission to leave if she wished, but not before giving her one last admonishment.

    "All right then Ms. Granger, you may go. I'm letting you leave because you've been through a great deal tonight and I don't want to put you through anymore. However, I want you to know I've never seen anything such as what you performed tonight. So I think soon as you're up for it, we'll need to have a chat with Headmaster Dumbledore. I don’t know what this means, but I tell you the truth…I've never before witnessed healing powers such as you've shown. Never. We need to know what this means."

    All eyes focused on Hermione and she nodded slowly, thinking to herself the exact same thing.

    "You will help her back then, won't you two?" asked Pomfrey to Harry and Ron. She spared a glance at the infirmary clock on the wall and saw that the thermometer and syringe hands were pointing at four a.m. and flashing with a resounding (dawn in two and quarter hours).

    "Great Godric's Ghost, look at the time," she exclaimed tiredly. "Well if you all can keep yourselves out of trouble long enough, we might all spare a good few hours of sleep. Do you think you five can scrub round calamity for that long?"

    "I reckon we'll give it a go," smirked Ron.

    Pomfrey scowled at him and planted her tired, purple-ringed eyes on Ginny. "You too, Ms. Weasley. Time you were out for a proper sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday but I gather you need to rest as well."

    Ginny nodded and stood up. "Thank you Madame Pomfrey. I'll leave straight away."

    Pomfrey nodded back to her and then to all of them. "Well, goodnight then." She padded back down the hallway and out of sight.

    Ginny then turned coolly to Malfoy, who studied her just as coolly back. "Well…I may come visit you tomorrow…time permitting and all. No promises though."

    Malfoy sat up a little more, groaning a bit painfully but managing all the same to look supremely unaffected. "None needed. Don't lump it just for me, Red. It might be brutally hard, but I'll try to muck through without your company."

    Ron scowled at their verbal bantering. He'd heard Malfoy's snide comments before, but these seemed different somehow,…it seemed almost as if they were…teasing…each other. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively. He'd be damned if he'd let Ginny start something with the little maggot. Over his rotting body…

    Harry helped Hermione to her feet with a look in his eyes that promised a great deal of conversation to be had once they reached their rooms. She nodded to him and simultaneously took hold of Ron's arm.

    "What!?" He growled, turning sharply as he thought it was Harry. When he saw the frown on Hermione's face, he softened. "Sorry there, 'Mione. I'm just a little…on edge."

    "Three guesses as to why," said Harry with a glance Ginny and Malfoy's way.

    Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Let it go, Ron. Ginny is sixteen years old and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Besides, do you really think she's just going to bow to your will? You know her better than that."

    "I just need to try harder to make her understand," said Ron hotly, glancing at the two still talking behind them. "He's dangerous, mates."
    

    "We don't know that," said Hermione softly.

    Harry looked at her incredulously. "You're not serious Hermione. What about all of his leanings toward Voldemort's views, huh? What about the fact that his father is a Death Eater? You can't seriously think he's on our side, can you?"
    

    "As much as I hate saying it Harry," said Hermione, linking her arm with his as they moved toward the infirmary doors. "Innocent until proven guilty. And Professor Dumbledore said that, didn't he?"
    

    "Yes he did love," said Harry with a strict look in his eyes. "And here's hoping it applies to Malfoy, because after seven years of knowing him, he's not looking too spotless."

    Hermione frowned but chose not to respond and turned around to beckon toward Ron. "Ron…come with us, will you? I know it's really late but what Harry and I need to talk about concerns you too."

    Ron sighed, finally conceding that Ginny was purposefully ignoring his gaze of death and moved to follow Harry and Hermione out of the infirmary, but a voice behind the three stopped them.

    "Granger…"

    Hermione stiffened. She had hoped to be able to sneak out without having to talk to Malfoy. She couldn't imagine for the life of her what he'd have to say to her. None of what he'd ever had to say to her was good. Most consisted of name-calling.

    She felt Harry and Ron grow instantly rigid beside her but turned anyway.

    "Look," she began quietly, not meeting his eyes. "It's really late. Can we just skip all of the…"

    "Thank you."

    Out of all the things Hermione had envisioned Malfoy saying to her in that moment, 'thank you' was definitely not one of them. She had expected some nasty remark; some inappropriate, ugly comment about being touched by a 'mudblood' or some other such nonsense. She realised that she had turned around and was moving her lips without a sound. Harry and Ron seemed to be equally as thunderstruck. Neither said a word.

    Malfoy looked either slightly embarrassed or somewhat uncomfortable, but he pressed on irritatedly anyway. It was apparent by the look on Ginny's face that she hadn't expected this turn of events either.

    "I mean it. I don't know what you did, but…I a..apr…appreciate it. Thank you."

    That such simple words could so thoroughly stun her…Hermione's eyes widened. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, the three of them might somehow be able to get along with him after all; if they could just all come to an understanding of each other. Maybe Ron might someday be able to accept Ginny and Malfoy's relationship…whatever that was. However, Ron chose that moment to do a dumb thing.

    "She didn't do it for you, ferret. She did it for Ginny." He looked irately from Ginny to Malfoy, whose hand was way to close to his sisters for his comfort.

    At that moment, any semblance of civility went out the door as abruptly as it had snuck in. Hermione looked down and placed a hand over her face, then looking up at Ron.

    "Ron…I can't believe you just…"

    "Don't believe anyone asked for your opinion, Weasel," said Draco, now with the cool hard edge to his voice that the trio knew him by. "And on top of that, you can ruddy well kiss my arse you trumped up piece of shit."

    "Come round and bend over then. Let's see what happens…" said Ron dangerously, balling up his fists.

    Ginny reddened with fury and stood. "In case you've missed it Ron, he's got a broken arm and leg…and I swear to Merlin I'll never speak to you again if you…"

    "Ron, let's go." Harry took a firm hold of his arm and began pulling him out of the infirmary.

    "You stay away from my sister you son of a bloody Death Eater!" Ron yelled out furiously as Harry yanked him out of the door and let it swing shut with a resounding bang.

    Son of a bloody Death Eater…The sound of it rang through the room for a few moments before Ginny turned toward Draco again.

    "I'm really sorry, Draco. He had no right saying…"

    "Maybe you should go then," said Malfoy in a glacial, dismissive voice that he'd not quite used with Ginny before.

    Ginny paused, mouth still open to form another word, and looked at Draco as if he'd just formed a second head. "What?"

    "Go on then," barked Draco with a hard, yet smooth edge to his voice. "Didn't think I really needed you, did you? I don't need anyone. Though I do use them for a while if the urge comes on. You didn't honestly think you and I could..be…OH. I guess you did then," he finished cruelly.

    Ginny looked simply floored and felt her eyes filling, her face flushing hot.

    "Well," continued Malfoy with an air of complete nonchalance, "Life's full of brutal lessons, isn't it? SO…Life lesson number one, Red: don't trust anyone. There's not a person in this world who won't let you down."

    Ginny stood for a long moment, peering searchingly into his face; eyes filled with unshed tears, swallowing reflexively. Then, she did something Malfoy totally hadn't expected from her. She calmed completely down.

    When she spoke, her voice was icy and even. "All right then. I'll go if it's what you want. I have to tell you though Draco…I'm highly disappointed."

    With that she turned on her heels and began to march composedly toward the door, yanking up her discarded Quidditch wrist and kneepads in her wake.

    Draco became even more infuriated and sat straight up in his bed, ignoring the pain in his arm and leg from the shift. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
    

    Ginny whirled around. "Now you want me to stay? Which is it? I don't have time for games."

    He ignored her question. "Just what the bloody hell do you mean by 'highly disappointed'!?"

    Ginny smirked, completely in control of her emotions. It felt good. "Exactly that. I just thought you were your own person, that's all."

    Draco thinned his lips. "Again I ask, what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!?"

    Finally, Ginny got mad. She tossed down the Quidditch gear and strode over to his bed, pointing a shaking finger in his face and effectively stunning him into silence. "If I had my wand with me I'd put a bat bogey hex on you that would make the one I gave you two years ago look like frickin CHILD'S PLAY," she hissed furiously. She felt her blood boiling, but visibly tried to calm herself. She finished her sentence with a cool sort of detachment of which Malfoy had only thought himself capable.

    "I'm surprised at you. Here I thought you were always so in control, so self assured, so confident in yourself and who you are…but one word from my brother makes you doubt yourself so much you'll push away the only real friend you've ever had."

    "Don't act as if you really know me, Red," snarled Draco angrily with narrowed eyes. "No one does!"

    "WHOSE FAULT IS THAT!?" roared Ginny furiously, close to his face. "If there's anything I DO know, it's this…you can be whoever you want to be! You can turn into whatever type of person you choose! You don't have to follow your father! You don't have to act a bastard because it's expected of you! You don't have to be a damn PRICK just because my brother and his friends think you are! And you don't have to push me away because your scared I'll agree with them…because like you…I have a mind of my own! And right now, my mind is telling me to get the hell out of this room!"

    With every word, Draco felt his icy interior thawing. She believed in him. She actually believed there was more to him than what met the eye; that he might in fact have the decency in him to turn out differently. And along with the awesome feeling of letting his guard begin to slip for once, he found a furious, fiery, completely in control Ginny to be a massive turn-on. He would finally admit to himself much later that the combining of those two emotions would prove to be the downfall of the usual Draco Malfoy.

    With a look that told him that she'd had enough of him and that he could most certainly go to hell, Ginny turned to leave, but Malfoy caught her hand and pulled her down to the bed beside him.

    "What the bloody hell do you think you're…"

    However, Ginny's words were muffled and ultimately cut off by the hand that suddenly gripped behind her head and yanked her into a hard, aroused, heated, and most desperately passionate kiss. A kiss so full of desire, so full of a hot powerful, drumming need; craving, pent up emotion that had just begun to spill out, that it left her breathless and trembling; weak because of it. For a moment, she was stunned breathless; then all of her anger surged upward and she replaced it with an appetite for him that was just as intense.

    How dare you..push me away, she thought. She returned the bruising pressure; wrapping one arm around his good side…mouths pressing together hungrily, yearning, succumbing to the downward rhythms his mouth was pushing her with towards the bed.

    Draco increased the urgency, sliding his tongue into her mouth, filling her, tasting her, needing her…YES. Needing her… Don't think you know me…

    Don't think you can control me. N..no one c..controls me… Ginny felt a fluttering heat just under her ribcage, one that travelled deliciously downward…

    Draco laid her back and rolled halfway on top of her, keeping the pressure firm but moving slowly owing to the pain in his newly mended arm and leg… I can... make up my own damn mind... He felt his precious self-control, the one thing he truly owned in and of himself beginning to slip away. He began to mould his body to hers… pressing, rhythmic, demanding, firmness meeting curves…

    His blonde hair, normally smoothed back, had now begun falling wildly over his forehead. The natural freedom of it, at least to Ginny, somehow served to mimic something inward. A side he kept hidden from the rest of the world…the side that was passionate; the side that felt.

    She'd been kissed before, but never, never like this. She'd never known anything like him; so smooth, so sensual, so blindly knowledgeable, demanding, intensely bent on ownership. His body moved over hers so slowly, so deliberately slowly… N..no one tells me wh..what to do... I can make up my own damn mi...my...mygod...

    Draco felt himself hardening, felt Ginny beneath him whimpering into his mouth her loss of control, and felt his own fears releasing… I can make up my own damn mind…she's right.

    His lips finally lifted from hers, faces close, breathless, flushed, overwhelmed with a long denied want and pent up frustration. He felt himself throbbing with need and knew by the movements she made underneath him, with eyes half-lidded and glazed with passion that she was too. This meant, if he truly cared about her, and he did (damn her), that he would need to stop this right now. But gods, it felt too good to just let go…

    Ginny pushed him upward with a reserve of control she wasn't sure she had and wriggled out from underneath him, causing a groan from him that could only be described as primal. She smiled shakily and sat up, pausing for a moment to control her laboured breathing before speaking.

    "There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Her tone belied the fact that she felt totally powerless now where he was concerned, but it didn't hurt to have him think otherwise.

    The smouldering look Draco gave her was enough to make Ginny squirm. He licked his lips. "Damn you, Red."

    Ginny smirked. "I think you just lost control."

    "I could say the same," countered Malfoy, crossing his unsplinted arm over the other, covering his bare chest. "And Malfoy's don't lose control. We just put it aside when the mood suits us…and it definitely suited me."

    Ginny stood and began smoothing down her long hair. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

    She began to walk toward the door, swinging her hips more than needed, until a final soft word from Malfoy stopped her.

    "Ginny…"

    That low, sensual tone…smooth as silk. The word travelled across the room and moved over her like a caress. She could almost feel his eyes raking her…those grey, smoky, seductive eyes… She shuddered and closed her own for a moment before turning around.

    "Yes?"

    Malfoy smiled then, a slow lecherous upcurving of his lips and a downward cock of his head that made her tremble. "Come visit me tomorrow."

    After reminding herself to take a breath, she smiled back at him. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me Ginny."

    "It's your name, isn't it?"

    She decided to return the seductive look. "Call me Red."

    With that, Ginny left the room feeling light and airy, buzzing full of something she couldn't define, and leaving Malfoy slumped in his bed feeling the exact same things.

    *******************************************

    Harry, Ron and Hermione sat themselves in front of the warm fire glowing orange and yellow in the head boy and girl's common room. Harry had fetched a quilt for Hermione and had wrapped it snugly around her before joining her on the couch, with Ron on her other side. The quiet in the room after the day's crazy events was certainly welcome, and Hermione sat for a few moments with her favourite boys content to just soak up the silence. She and Harry didn't mind letting Ron share in their little hideaway every now and then, though with his relationship with Lavender blossoming the way it seemed to be, he rarely interrupted them anyway. The three had almost settled into a routine. Trio time was done after school…a couple of hours of fun and relaxation followed by a few hours of studying. Then Harry and Hermione would retreat by themselves, leaving Ron to spend the rest of the evening with Lavender. Sometimes though, it was nice to just have the three of them together in Harry and Hermione's private common room; to pretend they were all eleven again and naïve to the world's problems. Ron was always welcome. However, with what they had to discuss tonight, childishness, peace, and quiet would have to wait.

    Harry was the first to break the silence. "So…do you want to tell us what that was back there?"

    Hermione looked rueful and drew the quilt tightly about her, sidling closer to Harry's side. "Which part? There were so many."

    "The part where your glowing hand was stuck to Malfoy's chest," said Ron, slumped on the couch and keeping his eyes planted on the dancing flames before him. "The part where he was suddenly all right when only seconds before he was ready to kick it… and let's not forget the part where you fell out afterward…"

    "I get your point," said Hermione drolly.

    Harry sighed and put his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. "Do you know what happened, love?"

    "No, I really don't," said Hermione a little shakily. "One moment I was completely overwhelmed what with Ginny hysterical and begging me to help…I put my hand on Malfoy's chest to see if I could feel him breathing. I remember thinking things to myself…just begging him not to die, willing the bleeding to stop; willing him to take a breath, and then…my hand was joined to his chest. I felt this…this warmth spread over me; this energy that I've never experienced before. I remember feeling it flow from me into him, and when I could finally lift my hand… I was so weak I could barely move."

    "…And the little rotter was all right again," said Ron bitterly.

    "Don't sound so overjoyed," said Hermione a little coldly. "However we may think on him Ron, he's still a person. He doesn't deserve to die."

    Ron shook his head in frustration. "I don't want him to die for Merlin's sake. I just want him to naff off Ginny."

    "Once again Ron," said Harry, shifting a bit in his seat, "Ginny is sixteen. She can make up her own mind. Odds are she will… In any case, we've more important things to think on now."

    "More important that my sister arsing about with Lucius Malfoy's son!?" asked Ron a little hotly, sitting up and peering around Hermione at Harry.

    "Yeah Ron, for the moment," said Harry with hard sarcasm in his voice.

    Hermione spoke up to intercede before the two began arguing. "I've something else to tell you two. About the dream I had."
    

    "The nightmare?" said Ron.

    Hermione nodded and tore her eyes away from the fire to look from Ron to Harry. "It was the worst I've ever had. The worst I hope to ever have."

    " 'Mione," said Harry gently, "I've had nightmares. That's all they are; just nightmares."

    "This was different," said Hermione with conviction in her voice. "There was something almost…futuristic about it; like a warning."

    Ron smirked at her. "Thinking of nicking Trelawny's position? Hermione Granger…Seer extraordinaire."

    Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Ronald Weasley…Potions expert. Professor Snape's right hand man."

    Ron frowned at her. "Hermione…that was below the belt."

    She rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "When I blacked out, I felt as if I fell instantly into the dream. It was as if no time passed where I just slept. I closed my eyes in the infirmary…and I opened them in the Kavan Forest; back in the dark little clearing where Voldemort held me captive year last. His cabin looked as if it had been rebuilt and destroyed again. Voldemort was there, and Harry…he had his body back."

    Hermione suddenly noticed that both Harry and Ron had stiffened, and Harry in particular stared intensely at her as if his very life now hung on her words. She had expected them to take her dream seriously, but the fervour with which they were listening began to make her uneasy.
    

    "What is it…?" she asked warily.

    "Keep on," said Harry. Ron merely nodded at her.

    She glanced suspiciously at them and continued. "We were all three there. It was as if I was watching from the outside looking on. I couldn't move, speak, or do anything to change what was happening. We were immobilised; laid out in a strange sort of pattern I can't remember. Voldemort was talking to Death Eaters and Dementors…telling them they would be rewarded as promised. Then…" Hermione felt her throat tighten and closed her eyes to ward off the tears that threatened to spill out again. The thought of the horrendous things she had witnessed, although it had only been a nightmare, was enough to make her begin to tremble. Ron took her hand, and Harry squeezed her tighter to him.

    "Then," she managed to choke out, "Voldemort decided it was time for us to die. Lucius Malfoy killed you, Ron…another did me. The sky had begun to change, to grow darker and more threatening the moment the first of us died. Voldemort decided he wanted the honour of killing you himself." She glanced up at Harry. An ominous frown was stamped on his face and he sat deathly still, his eyes planted on the fire in the hearth, but staring through the flames.

    "Right before you died," she continued a bit tremulously, "it was darkest of all. A horrible tornado swirled across the sky and came to rest right above Voldemort. When…wh..when he…killed you…after you died…he swallowed it whole. I just remember the look on his face. He opened his mouth so wide." Hermione shuddered violently. "It was the maddest look I've ever seen."

    Harry looked deeply troubled now, and Ron, Ron looked as if he was about to pass out himself. Hermione looked from one to the other and a fear began to spread throughout her body as if her blood were rushing it to every part at once.

    "What is it!?" She finally cried out. "What has you two so jarred!? Harry, you said yourself it was only a nightmare…"

    "I've had that dream Hermione," said Ron quietly. "The very same."

    Harry jerked round to look at him.

    "What!?" Hermione felt as if a swarm of bees had just been set loose inside her body. "No Ron. That can't be. Maybe it was just similar to…"

    "No," said Ron firmly, "it was that exact dream. I remember watching us lay there. I couldn't move…I couldn't speak. I remember giving our good-byes. Harry said I was just like his brother. He said he wished he had more time with you. He told you he loved you."

    Hermione sucked in a breath that sounded more like a sob, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "Yes!"

    Ron lowered his eyebrows, his face a mixture of fear and confusion. "I don't know what this means…"

    "Harry?" Hermione turned to Harry, who hadn't yet spoken.

    He turned troubled eyes to stare deeply into hers, and then at Ron. "I don't know what it means either…because I had it first. The same bloody dream this summer at the Dursley's."

    For a moment, Hermione felt as if she were floating back in a fantasy world again, as if she might wake up the next moment and everything would turn normal once more. Nevertheless, she knew by the looks on Harry and Ron's faces that what they were discussing was all too real.

    Suddenly Ron looked up to Harry as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Harry! Do you remember that day in Divination? When Trelawny turned rigid and started spouting bosh on how the dark one was coming? Something about…' the forces of light will scarce stand against it…the triangle must come together…' "

    "Yes," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I remember what you told me…' she also said the circle must be made whole…he must learn what he was born to perform…he must train…' I…I think the pattern we were laid in the dream now I think on it…it was a triangle!"

    Harry nodded then and spoke up. " 'Only the covenant of the triangle will stop them; only the joining of the circle will make him strong enough.' I still don't get the circle…She said some Latin phrases too, though I don't remember them."

    Hermione sighed loudly. "Honestly Harry. This could be one of the most important prophecies we've heard and you don't think to write everything down once you've heard it? For the love of Godric…" She got up a little huffily and strode into her room.

    Harry looked exasperated at Ron and shrugged. "What? How should I know when the old bag's had an actual 'premonition'!? Most of them are rot anyway."

    "Don't ask me mate," said Ron a little chagrined. "I never wrote any of it down."

    Hermione exited her room soon after with a small rolled up piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle, and made her way over to she and Harry's small library in the back of the common room, plucking three thick, dusty volumes from off of the shelves.

    "I wrote down the whole of the prophecy in case we needed to think on it again," said Hermione officiously, walking round the couch and plopping down beside them. She dropped the books on the couch and unrolled the parchment, glancing over it reproachfully at Harry and Ron. "Let's see…" She mumbled the words she read under her breath until she found what she was looking for. "Here it is! Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo… She repeats it a few times…"

    "Well that's all gash to me," said Ron, flopping back against the couch again. "What's it mean then?"

    Hermione rolled her eyes, looking frustrated with them again. "Mingin' Merlin…are you two ever going to study up your Latin? Don't you ever think on the definition of the words we use in our spells?"

    "Not often," said Harry flippantly. "I just worry they get the job done."

    "Right on," said Ron lazily.

    Hermione huffed with displeasure but smiled anyway. "Well fortunately for you two, I do." She held up three copies of Demonstrative Latin Lingo, Volumes D-F, J-L, and S-U, and instantly brightened.

    "Isn't it wonderful!?" she beamed happily. "I've been scanning our little library here in my spare time, and see what they've given us!? An entire set of Latin dictionaries! Harry, I'll wager you need quite a bit of dusting up with your Latin. We can study on it later, starting with Volume one, A-C. I'll quiz you!"

    Harry looked at her shining face and smiled weakly. "Can't wait."

    Ron snuck Harry a look of pity while Hermione scanned the volume excitedly. Finally, she came up for air.

    "Here's the first word," she said a little breathlessly. "Sodalis. It means…society or fellowship."

    Harry peered over her shoulder but she snapped the book closed and quickly charmed her quill to begin writing. The quill jumped upright, dipped itself into the inkbottle and wrote the word 'society' on the parchment in Hermione's tidy scrawl.

    "Now then," said Hermione business-like as she picked up the second volume, "Next word."

    She flipped through S-U until she found what she was looking for. "Tria…three. Should've known that one." The quill scratched down the word. The next two words were equally as simple to find. Evalesco ended up meaning 'power', and Leo, obviously, 'lion'.

    When it was finished, the quill threw itself down flat on the table and Hermione snatched up the parchment.

    "Sodalis tria…The 'fellowship of three', I suppose. And Evalesco Leo… 'power of the lion'."

    Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Well…that says it all then doesn't it? It's obvious we're the fellowship of three, you Ron and I; you two are closest to me. And 'the power of the lion'…we're all in Gryffindor."

    "I wonder," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Are we to make some sort of covenant with each other, then? Some sort of magical pact? According to what Trelawny said…"

    However, Ron, now musing thoughtfully with his chin in his hand, spoke up with a quiet voice full of a wisdom he felt he couldn't define. "I think we've done it already."

    Harry frowned at him. "Huh? What're you on about? Some magical coming together? I don't think so…"

    "I don't think it's meant to be magical Harry," said Ron giving the two of them a piercing look. "Do you remember when the three of us became real friends? Not just you and I Harry, but all three of us."

    Harry took a moment to think back. The three of them had been so close for so long that it seemed he had a lifetime's worth of memories to sort through. However, the answer came to him quickly.

    "Our first year…that day with the troll. You remember love?" Harry smirked and turned to Hermione who sat looking at the two of them with a wistful smile on her face.

    "Well…Very well." she said quietly. "When I lied to Professor McGonnagol…I'd never thought I would lie to a teacher. I'd never thought I would ever break a rule! But you two were worth it…worth any trouble I might have got into. I think we all knew right then we'd do anything for each other."

    "Still do," smiled Ron. "And that day…that was the day we made the covenant. It may have been without words, but it was a pact all the same. I think we all knew it on some level. Maybe it just took us this long to understand it. Maybe that's what the prophecy is about…just realising it."

    As soon as the words left his mouth, Ron knew he had hit on it. Something amazing began to happen; something static and energised… The warm air in the room suddenly hummed thick with power. Needle thin strands of light; blue and purple and green came from nowhere and buzzed above their heads, making the hair on their heads stand; lighting the room with a swirling kaleidoscope of colour…an electrical storm so tangible that they felt they could reach out and touch the discharge on their fingertips. Power blew around them like a warm breeze, leaving a metallic taste on their tongues and covering their skin in gooseflesh.

    Hermione hugged herself, feeling as if the sudden eerie display should have frightened her, frightened them all, and yet, she felt calm, peaceful somehow. It was as if she'd always known there was something more; something just out of reach. Perhaps it had just not yet been the time…

    The electricity stopped its movement and began dying away, each strand converging together to form a bright golden colour and finally cracking out of existence. The room was instantly shadowed and warmed only by the fire once again.

    Harry, Ron and Hermione sat staring at each other for some time; eyes wide with surprise but calm, hearts beating fast, but with the strange knowledge that what had just happened wasn't as foreign to them as they would have thought. Nothing about themselves had changed, just the knowledge that their friendship, their supposed chance meeting and consequential friendship, wasn't as random as they had thought. In fact, it had never been haphazard at all…

    ************************************

    As it happened, neither Harry nor Hermione got much sleep, having only just dropped exhausted onto Harry's bed by six o'clock the next morning. Dawn seemed to rise extra early, but Harry had set his drapes to stay closed until he opened them himself, so he ended up waking on his own with Hermione still nestled closely into him sleeping soundly at around ten Sunday morning.

    Oddly enough, his first thoughts when waking earlier than he had intended was that he wanted to talk to his father. Talking with Sirius was damned near impossible as Dumbledore had warned him to use the floo only when absolutely necessary to keep his fugitive godfather safe. In addition, although he knew he could share anything with Sirius, somehow Harry wanted to share what had happened last night with his father. Somehow, for some reason, he had woken earlier than he had intended with the immediate feeling that he was now ready to have a real heart-to-heart with James.

    He felt, without understanding why, that the current state of his life was drawing to a close, to some sort of ending. He hoped that meant that a new beginning was waiting in the wings, though he wasn't so naïve as to think that he was invincible. The truth was that when he finally did meet Voldemort again, if he really was as powerful now as the shared dream had lead them to believe, he might not make it out alive. He wanted all loose ends tied up if that was to be the case. He wanted the chance to clear everything up with his father …and to know as much about he and his mother as he possibly could.

    Harry eased himself onto his elbow carefully so as not to disturb Hermione and gazed tenderly down at her sleeping form. Gods, what he would give to be able to promise her that everything was going to turn out all right. To promise that they would all make it through the last battle with Voldemort unscathed; that they would be able to grow old together, he with her, and Ron with whomever he chose.

    He wanted to be able to tell her that he could see them all together some ten years from now, sitting on the front porch of one of their houses, laughing with each other and watching their children romping playfully together in the grass.

    Not for the first time, Harry smiled ruefully at the fact that if he were a normal boy of seventeen, the thought of marriage and a yard full of children would be the last thing on his mind. However, Harry was far from a normal boy of seventeen. He had already lived through a lifetime's worth of sorrow and had had to endure far more than his share of worry. He knew he'd had to grow up a lot sooner than most others do. He didn't however feel sorry for himself; it was just fact. Such was the life of the boy-who-lived. He looked down at Hermione's curled up form once more and gently smoothed her hair down. He'd often thought to himself that a more appropriate title would have been the boy-who-survived. After all, he hadn't really had the chance to live yet, had he? Surely, there was more to life than mere survival.

    Harry sighed and put away his thoughts, carefully extracting his arm from under Hermione's waist and easing slowly out of the bed. After pulling on a black jumper and a worn pair of jeans and trainers, he pulled the golden quilt up to Hermione's shoulders, planted a soft kiss on her cheek and headed out of his portrait door.

    After failing to find his father in his classroom, the great hall, the teacher's lounge, or his quarters, Harry had a good idea of where he might search next.

    To his surprise, the halls leading outside were almost empty, but once he opened the great doors to the school and blinked his way into the bright chilly autumn morning, he understood why. Hogwarts grounds were littered with students; some lying together on blankets, studying and reading, others playing Hell or Hex, (Dean had obviously got the raw end of the deal as he was currently being forced to plant a kiss on a raging, struggling grindylow. Seamus and Neville were nearby howling with laughter).

    Some headed towards the Quidditch pitch, brooms in hand, and others simply lounged peacefully near the lake where the giant squid was out in full force, waving to the students from afar as it was too cold for anyone to swim. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, but as Harry crunched his way across the multicoloured grounds littered with fallen leaves towards Hagrid's hut where, a plume of smoke was rising lazily from the chimney, it was almost impossible for him to appreciate it. He marvelled as he passed fellow students smiling and laughing together, playing or preparing for tests, that there were still people in the world who worried about things as mundane as schoolwork or the next Quidditch match, or anything of such small importance for that matter. Voldemort was back with a vengeance, strange things were happening with he and his friends, he had, at best, a floundering relationship with his father whom he had thought dead for the last sixteen years, and had only the world's nastiest relatives to fall back on in the way of family.

    Nevertheless, Harry stopped then and mentally raged at himself. He had Sirius, Ron, who was like a brother to him, not to mention the entire Weasley household, and Hermione…beautiful, amazing Hermione. Hermione who truly loved the real him and not just his image; Hermione who held him grounded; Hermione who had always believed in him to a fault; Hermione who kept his faith; Hermione, who was to him like water to a man trapped in the driest desert. Harry smiled to himself. He had nothing to regret. He was the richest man alive.

    The door to Hagrid's hut was open, probably to let in fresh air. As Harry approached, sure enough, there sat Lupin, sharing a pot of tea with Hagrid, and looking strangely dwarfed by the giant's huge table and chairs. Harry smiled again as he heard Hagrid's roaring laughter resounding off the walls of his large hut, and at Lupin, grasping a huge teacup and grinning madly.

    "Well, 'Arry!" boomed Hagrid, catching sight of Harry as he approached with hands crammed in the pockets of his jeans. " I was wunnerin' when you'd come ter visit me agin! Yer father n' me were jes' swappin' stories 'bout our days back at school, there. Sounds ter me like we was roun' a 'bout one an' th' same as far as trouble makin' went!"

    Harry smiled. "I can only imagine." He entered the hut, noting the look of pleasant surprise Lupin gave him as he approached.

    "I'll wager you can do more'n imagine, there." Said Hagrid, giving him a keen glance over his teacup. "You an' yours 'ave 'ad your share then, 'aven't ya?"

    Harry grinned passively back at him. "Well, I reckon it's more like trouble finds us than the other way round."

    "That's how Sirius and I always saw it." said Lupin. "Hello son."

    "Professor," Harry nodded back.

    Hagrid caught that Harry had not called Lupin 'dad' and frowned very slightly. However, all Harry noticed was that Hagrid had called Lupin his 'father' and that Lupin had called him son in front of the giant.

    "I guess you've been updated then," said Harry to Hagrid as he leaned tiredly against the doorjamb.

    Hagrid faltered for a moment. It wouldn't do Harry or his dad's relationship any good for Harry to know how Hagrid had raged at James for the better part of an hour when he'd found who he really was, about how his son had grown up without him. James had taken it though as if he'd deserved every condemning word, and had thanked Hagrid for loving Harry as much as he did. He'd explained his actions to the giant as well as he could, and Hagrid, after understanding him a bit more, had decided to try to get to know the elder Potter. They'd been spending bits of time together ever since.

    Hagrid couldn't find proper words to answer Harry with. He spoke quietly. "I 'ave."

    "I felt it would be easier that way," said Lupin straightforwardly. "I've only told the other professors though. I hope you're alright on that, Harry."

    "Might as well," said Harry more easily than he felt. "It would have got out sooner or later. Dumbledore and McGonnagol already knew…how did the rest take it?"

    Lupin sighed. "Well, they were surprised to say the least. Snape was in a right state. He hated me enough as Remus Lupin, but at least Remus was a bit sympathetic to him in school. I on the other hand…Well, suffice it to say I had a bit of an ego problem back then."

    Harry paused and thought it best not to reveal to his father that he'd seen some of his behaviour in Snape's pensieve his fifth year. Besides, all else could wait for the moment.

    "Sit an' 'ave a cuppa with us, then," said Hagrid beginning to get up to refill his huge kettle.

    Harry held up a hand. "Could I come back later for it, Hagrid? I was hoping to have a talk with the professor if you don't mind."

    Lupin turned to look at Harry once again, clear surprise etched in his features, but he was quick to take Harry up on the offer. Hagrid had begun to smile. It was obvious he thought some sort of breakthrough was on hand.

    "Of course," said Lupin. He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. "Hagrid, thank you for the tea. We'll chat again sometime soon."

    They said their good-byes to the giant and Lupin followed Harry out into the crisp late morning. After they'd got a bit farther from the hut, Lupin spoke up.

    "Where would you like to go?"

    "I thought we could stroll round the lake if it suits you," said Harry.

    "Fine," said Lupin. He'd felt this time would come eventually. He wasn't so naïve as to think that the entire conversation was going to go as pleasantly as it had so far. After all, Harry surely had a lot of bitterness and anger, and many unanswered questions. But it would be communication nonetheless, and a start to something more. Openness and honesty usually broke down the barriers, no matter how painful the truth turned out to be.

    The late morning sun shone on the top of the massive lake like a web of diamonds, but it was still not enough to warm the autumn chill in the air. The giant squid had disappeared back into the dark depths of the water which was still surrounded by clumps of students here and there, most noticeably a large gaggle of first years playing "Where's the Wizard?", a game Harry noticed was strikingly similar to the Muggle version of "Hide and Seek".

    They had to walk for quite a while to find an area not yet populated, and Harry and his father stayed in relative silence until they were finally able to come upon a suitable area with no one else around. Harry slowed to a halt, nervously running his fingers through his hair at the same time as Lupin did; though neither was paying enough attention to notice.

    Harry began inarticulately, giving away just how nervous he really was. "Er…I…we haven't really had the chance to talk as of yet…Been quite busy you know, what with Head Boy duties and N.E.W.T.s coming up; not to mention all the goings on with Voldemort." Harry paused, with his hands still crammed around his robes in the pockets of his jeans. He shifted from one foot to the other and finally raised his eyes to squint at his father through the rays of the bright sun. "But there's other more important things I wanted to talk with you about first."

    Lupin peered at him. More important? He had thought he'd been keeping quite a close eye on Harry and his companions as of late. How was it that he had missed something?

    "Go on."

    Harry nodded. "I'm sure you heard about what happened with Malfoy…"

    " 'Course I did Harry, I was there," said Lupin, "Every teacher was."

    "Not after," finished Harry abruptly. "Something happened in the infirmary; something with Hermione. I…I wondered if you might have any thoughts on it."

    Lupin frowned in concern. "Is she all right, then?"

    "She's fine now," said Harry, "though when we were all in the infirmary I wasn't so sure."

    "Hang on," said Lupin with confusion. "I thought it was Malfoy who'd had the injury…"

    "It was…and he would've straight died if it hadn't been for Hermione. That's what I wanted to talk to you about; among other things."

    Lupin gestured for him to continue, and Harry related the whole of the story to him, making sure to give him every detail of the healing Hermione had performed. After finishing with it, he went on to tell him of the strange lighting that had gone on in his and Hermione's common room when they, along with Ron had gone back over the 'prophesy' Trelawny had spoken. When he was done, Lupin stood staring at him for some time before speaking.

    "Well…Hermione is a special witch then, isn't she?" he began slowly, choosing to take one subject at a time. "That is quite an uncommon gift Harry. I have to say I've never heard of a healer able to heal with just a simple touch. Most, even the best ones have to use their wands."

    Harry nodded. "She almost seemed as if she was willing Malfoy to heal. She was in some sort of trance and a purplish light glowed from her hand and travelled all through his body. When he woke up, the only injuries he had left were the broken bones."

    Lupin thought hard on this for a moment and then spoke again. "Do you remember what she was saying?"

    "A lot of things," said Harry, shifting his weight once again. "She kept telling him to breathe, telling the bleeding to stop, telling it to disappear…"

    "Did she ever once mention the broken bones?" asked Lupin.

    Harry raised an eyebrow. "Breathing seemed to be the foremost thing on the agenda at the time."

    Lupin replied drolly, matching Harry's sarcasm. "I'm sure. What I'm getting at is, only the things she thought on healed. Only the ones she was willing so hard to cure, actually cured. You understand?"

    "You're saying she actually did will him better?" asked Harry incredulously. "That Hermione has some sort of extraordinary healing power?"

    "I'm saying it certainly wasn't some random event, Harry," said Lupin. "Think about it. She willed the bleeding to stop; willed the lungs to heal; willed him to breathe, and all of it happened. Of course she didn't mention the bones because she was thinking so intently on what was most pressing at the time. And they weren't healed, were they?"

    He paused to let his words sink in. "I think it's safe to assume Hermione has a very special gift, Harry."

    Harry thought for a few moments before speaking. "Maybe you're right."

    Lupin spoke up again. "What colour did you say the light was coming from her hand?"

    Harry lowered his eyebrows. "Purple. But what does that have to do with…"

    "And I'm sure you've seen her perform magic countless times with her wand, haven't you?"

    " 'Course I have."

    "And you recall the colours that came from it?"

    Harry paused and his eyes widened. "Purple. It's always been purple."

    Lupin nodded. "As wizards, our magic comes from inside of us and through our wands, not the other way round, Harry. Our wands enable us to perform focused magic. After all, what good is unfocused magic? Not very useful. Most wizards and witches need their wands.

    However, every now and then, though very rarely, there are those born with power enough to focus their magic without the need of a wand, as you are proving to be. As for Hermione, you mentioned even Pomfrey with her wand, couldn't heal the damage done to Draco's lungs. I reckon only time will tell whether Hermione is able to use unfocused magic for everything, or just healing. After all, some witches and wizards are just more adept at certain things. This may be the case with her."

    Harry was taken aback, and then realised something important. "You know, Ron seems to be growing more powerful as well, at least where defensive spells are concerned."

    "I've noticed," replied Lupin thoughtfully. "And his wands colour…"

    "Green," said Harry at once. But then the truth of it struck him like a lightning bolt. His voice wavered with shock. "Mine has always been blue except for the first time I got my wand from Mr. Ollivander. Then it shot out red and gold…"

    "Perhaps it could simply recognise the heir of Gryffindor, strange as that seems," said Lupin. "If I recall correctly, my wand did the same thing when I first got it, and only that one time. After that it's always been blue."

    "Blue, purple and green," said Harry loudly, his heart beating wildly. "Those were the same colours that flew around the common room last night. When they came together they formed gold and then disappeared. Merlin's beard…there was a reason for it. What it was, I'm not sure, but I've a feeling we'll be finding out."

    Lupin, full of the same kind of excitement on hearing Harry's words, nodded. "I imagine you will." He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully and swallowed hard, knowing they were to be painful.

    "Harry, your mother and I always knew you were special. However, it was only the night…the night your mother and Remus died that I finally realised just how much; and it wasn't just because you'd survived.

    That night, Dumbledore told me of the prediction Trelawny had made. He told me that…that either you or he would eventually die. 'For none shall live while the other survives'… Harry, I'd just lost your mother. And while I didn't think in that moment that it was possible to want to die even more, I knew then that I had to give you up. We'd already known that Voldemort would be after you simply because of the Gryffindor-Slytherin bloodlines. But now, there was even more reason for him to want to kill you. The only way to keep you safe was to give up my rights to you…to hide you for as long as possible."

    Harry felt himself tensing; felt the familiar resentment and anger building inside. He hadn't been sure until that moment that he'd wanted to bring this particular subject up today, but his father had just taken the matter into his own hands.

    "I guess you found that easy enough, didn't you?" The voice that came out was cold, distant, and utterly unfamiliar to Harry's own ears.

    Lupin's gaze shot up at once, a look of pure disbelief on his face. "Harry…giving you up nearly killed me. You can't imagine what life has been like without you…without my son…"

    "And you can't imagine what my life has been like!" yelled Harry at once. All the anger, all of the bitterness and abuse and misuse of his entire life seemed to be simmering dangerously just below the surface. It had risen up in him so fast that Harry's own reaction almost startled him. He began to pace furiously.

    "I reckon it was easier for you to just hand me over…to be able to rid yourself of whatever reminded you of her, was that it!? Or was it the fact that you had a baby to raise on your own now? Was I just more than you wanted to take on at that point!?"

    "No Harry! Never! I…"

    "Or, maybe you haven't thought on the fact that had it not been for your actions that night, neither she nor Remus Lupin might be dead today? Has it occurred to you, dad," spat out Harry sarcastically, "to wonder how your decision to leave me with the Dursley's for the past sixteen years has gone over? Do you know what MY life has been like without YOU?"

    James swallowed, doing his best to take his son's anger toward him in stride. He was wholly entitled to it, and yet, Voldemort had stolen both of their lives that night, not just Harry's. "I know you haven't had it easy with them, Harry. Please believe me when I say that Dumbledore and I thought we were doing what was best for you, and only you, at the time. I didn't know Vernon and Petunia would treat you so badly…"

    "And the way they've always felt about magic gave you absolutely no indicator, was that it!?" Harry yelled venomously.

    "Harry, Petunia is a squib," said Lupin. He missed seeing Harry's eyebrows disappear into his hairline at the revelation as he continued. "I never knew Vernon that well, but back when I knew Petunia, she seemed to love Lily very much. I knew she always resented her somewhat for her skills, but I never imagined in a million years that coming from the same family, one who owned the same skills, that she would treat you badly, or allow Vernon to do so…"

    "AUNT PETUNIA!?" exclaimed Harry. "A SQUIB!?" It would certainly explain quite a bit of the resentment she seemed to hold toward his mother. He'd always thought that if Petunia really thought of magic as 'unnatural and freakish' as both she and Vernon put it, that there would be no reason for the look of utter jealously and bitterness on her face when she mentioned Lily. It probably didn't help his own case much either when Petunia saw how much magic Harry possessed. He could only imagine that Uncle Vernon knew nothing about Petunia's being a squib else he probably would've never married her. She'd probably allowed him to poison her mind even further against magical folk when they had married. It all made sense now. It took him a few moments to process the information before turning his rage back onto his father.

    "Well," continued Harry, with the same biting sarcasm in his hard voice, "if you'd been around to check on me, even once, you might've known that my life with them was and is a living HELL. The only reason it's even bearable now is because I've finally gotten big enough to defend myself somewhat."

    "Harry…I'm so sorry. I never knew…"

    "Of course you never. I spent the first eleven years of my life living in a cupboard under their staircase, did you know that!? I only got to eat whatever was left over from dinner after they and the ORCA they call their 'son', finished cramming themselves full! Sometimes, when it was really bad, mind you, I got nothing but scraps of bread to eat for days on end! But that was all right, because at least when I was finally moved into Dudley's spare room, I got to amuse myself watching him play with his roomful of toys. At least I had my imagination, didn't I!? I could always imagine what it would be like to actually go outside and play rather than cleaning and cooking all day! I could imagine what it might be like to put on clothes that actually fit me rather than Dudley's mucky cast-offs. I could imagine what it might be like to go out and make friends or to even be normal for shitsake…hell, sometimes if the situation was just right, I was able to imagine what it might be like to have someone actually love me. You see, before Hermione, and Ron and the Weasleys, I had no clue. And now that I have, I don't know how I could ever think you felt that for me."

    The last sentence, spoken with such a biting hurt tone, cut James to the bone. He swallowed down the massive lump that had risen to his throat at Harry's revelation of his life with the Dursley's. But he had to try to make him understand.

    "Harry…you'll never know how much I hate myself for all the bad things that've happened to you. I hate myself for not being there for you. I even used to hate myself for not being able to stop the inevitable. But the truth is, if I hadn't been the one out that night seeking Peter Pettigrew, even I wouldn't be alive, as Dumbledore put it. I couldn't have stopped it anymore than I could stop a storm from coming.

    Afterward, having to give you up, I felt I would rather die anyway, but Dumbledore finally helped me realise that someday, I would be able to see you again; that at least, you still had your father. To keep you would've been one of the most selfish things I could've done, Harry…not just for me but for the whole of the wizarding world. I wanted to with all of my heart, but you needed to be kept safe; someplace Voldemort would never think to look for you; someplace where you could at least partly grow up without the stigma of 'the boy who lived'. If you had stayed with me, or even in the wizarding world, it would've been like painting a target on your head. I know I wasn't there for you growing up…"

    "No one was," said Harry raggedly.

    "But you have to believe that what was done was done to keep you alive. It was the lesser of two evils, Harry. If I'd had a choice, even a small one, I would have never, ever given you up." Lupin swallowed hard again to keep himself under control. To let even one tear fall in Harry's presence was unthinkable. He had no right to it.

    Harry's anger seemed to be dissipating with every word from his father, though he held onto it with all of his might. Sometimes, he just wanted to lash out, to be able to hurt someone as much as he had been hurt. He knew he sounded like a bad person, but he was only human. He wanted someone else to understand how isolated and unwanted he'd felt his whole life. He wanted someone else to swallow that type of pain and be able to look up and back at him with new eyes; ones that understood. He didn't realise that at that moment, his father could read all of this in his face.

    "I want you to know something," Lupin began again, hoarse with the effort to keep the tears at bay. "I know you never felt love growing up, but gods, I swear to you, there never was a child more loved by his parents than you were by Lily and I. We wanted you, Harry. We tried and tried for you. Lily was so happy when she found out she was pregnant with you. She gave her life for you. I believe she would do it again in a second if given the chance. She knew what she was doing, Harry…and the night I gave you up, so did I."

    James Potter stood before him a broken man, a man who's wife had given her life for her son, but in a way, had gotten the easier part of the deal. Because while she had peace, he had to live every day with the pain of it; and with the loneliness and agony that came with having to give up his only son. He'd been just as alone as Harry had been, and being a werewolf, he'd been equally ostracised as well. All this time, Harry had never considered that James might actually feel half of what he did, and yet, it turned out that he understood the whole of it.

    Lupin held out his hands to him in an almost pleading gesture. "Please Harry. I know we've already missed too much time together, and I know that a relationship with each other won't come immediately. I know it'll take time. But if it takes until the day I'm on my death bed it'll be worth it to me. I do love you, son. I always have and I always will."

    And with that, Harry simply crumbled.

    Hermione made her way with Ron through the great double doors and into the bright sunlight of early afternoon. She'd only just been awakened by the sound of Ron's knocking on their portrait door, (which greatly disturbed Sir Cadogen so much so that he challenged Ron yet again to a duel) and when she opened her eyes, she realised that Harry wasn't there beside her. They'd determined that he'd gone to visit Hagrid as the three of them usually did on Sundays, but had been told that he had gone for a walk with his father. It only took them a few minutes to decide to try walking round the lake.

    They began rounding a section of hill that wasn't littered with other students until Hermione let out a gasp and grabbed Ron's arm, pointing toward where a pair of men stood with their arms wrapped around each other. They moved back round the hill to avoid being seen, and Hermione wiped her eyes with trembling hands, though smiling as she continued to take peeks at Harry and Lupin. The two finally separated and continued talking, though Lupin kept his hand on Harry's shoulder the entire time.

And even Ron couldn't keep the tears from his eyes at that point.

22. Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

• • Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

    Harry knew that word travelled fast around the gossipy halls of Hogwarts, but he had no idea that moments upon re-entering the school after he and his father's talk, he would immediately be assaulted by Hermione and Ron.

    Hermione, with tears running down her face, pounded down the hall, and flung herself onto him in a full body hug that nearly knocked him flat. Ron followed her, grinning wildly and hammering him on the back until it tingled with loss of feeling.

    "Hrry 's so wunerfl! Yu'n fthr frgiving cn st anw rlaship…" Hermione's face was buried so fully in his shoulder that he could barely make her out.

    He chuckled and shifted her weight in his arms with a grunt. "Learning to speak Gobbledygook? You've decided to work at Gringott's post-graduation, then…"

    Hermione lifted a tear-stained face to him and gave him a punch in the shoulder before sliding from his grasp. "Don't be a prat. Ron and I went looking for you earlier. We saw you with your father…Harry, it's so wonderful."

    "Yeah mate," said Ron, still grinning Cheshire-like. "Proud of you. I know what a great lot of nerve that took."

    Harry felt the expression freeze on his face and glanced down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

    Hermione frowned. "Love, what is it?"

    When he spoke again he was quiet, as if not quite sure how to explain himself. "Look, what you saw out there…it was nice, I'll admit. It feels good to know I was… was loved, and I'm beginning to understand why he did what he did…But by no means does one conversation and a hug erase the past sixteen years. D'you understand?"

    Ron blinked for a few moments, obviously not sure how to think, but Hermione seemed to comprehend him fully.

    "Of course it doesn't," she put a hand to his face and smiled at him. "I don't think for a moment that everything's been instantly put right. Your father doesn't either, I'm sure. But Harry…it's a start. You have to begin somewhere…right?"

    Harry was suddenly more than grateful for being given someone like Hermione; whatever deity it was that sent her. He brought up a hand to smooth her hair back from her face. "Right love. Your right."

    Ron tried to put his thoughts right and in order. "So then you are a bit better with him…"

    Harry winced, unsure himself why he felt uneasy, and nodded. "I'm trying. We both are, I think."

    "That's all that can be asked, then," said Ron wisely. "Remember Harry, whatever he did, right or wrong, he did from love for you. It might not've turned out the way either of you wanted, but at least you have that."

    Harry turned to follow Ron and Hermione outside into the bright day, but had no words with which to answer. As the three strolled in companionable silence round the grounds, Harry still felt the sting of bitterness tug his heart downward. It was strange; in his mind, he knew he'd heard the truth; knew what all of the right things were now to believe and think. But a lifetime of regret had built a wall against probably any answer he might've heard, he thought to himself, and he was having the damndest time making his heart follow his head.

    Yet there was nothing for it but to try. What other choice was there?

    *****************************************************

    The end of October brought an even cooler drop in temperature and a greyish tint to the sky over the Scottish grounds. All around Hogwarts the middle to end of autumn was evident; from the yellowish tint to the grass, already multicoloured from fallen leaves, to the half-bare trees, losing more and more of their painted coverings every day owing to the wind. The castle too seemed chillier than before. In-between classes, throngs of students were seen with woollen caps and scarves bearing their house colours, and the classrooms themselves now glowed with fires lit in the hearths.

    Though the drab outside could have lent the school a gloomy feel, most inside were upbeat and even excited. The All Hallows Eve bash was to be held Friday night, October thirty-first, only two days away, and the halls around the school were already decorated with all sorts of Halloween paraphernalia. Glowing pumpkins were set outside every classroom door, orange and black streamers were hung magically here and there down the halls, and webs with magically enhanced spiders threaded out from corners, (causing Ron to turn three shades of pale). Even the resident ghosts were taking extra care to rattle chains and moan frightfully in every dark corridor.

    Hoards of bats came magically from nowhere to swoop down on unsuspecting students, and Peeves followed every attack with a bag of mouldy raisins, tossing handfuls over students heads and screaming 'BAT DROPPINGS!' Only McGonnagol managed to stop him by threatening banishment from the castle, and vowed to find whomever it was supplying the poltergeist and make them eat a handful of the real thing.

    Ginny tried her best to contain her excitement, Harry, Ron and Hermione noticed as they headed toward their last class of the day, but she was finding it rather difficult. Malfoy was finally out from the infirmary and had asked her to be his date, so practically all she could think on was what costumes might have a couples theme. She'd decided to confide in Hermione some two weeks ago (neither Lavender or Parvarti were good for anything but dumb giggles as were the girls from her own year) on what had happened with she and Draco when they'd left the infirmary, and as Ginny had guessed, Hermione was full of misgivings and advice.

    But while she listened to her and nodded in all of the appropriate places, Ginny knew she was going to make up her own mind. Truth be told, Hermione knew as well, though she hoped at least some of her words would fix into Ginny's self-conscious enough to later pop suddenly into her mind.

    She and Ginny hung back as Ron and Harry walked ahead of them toward the Advanced DADA class so that the latter could fill her in on the latest. Though Hermione could be a bit bossy, Ginny was grateful. She needed a female ear.

    "So he did ask you, then?" asked Hermione.

    "He tried first acting as if it were too childish a thing to attend," replied Ginny with a smirk. "He said rather drolly, and I quote: 'Well Red, you'll be going to the Boo Ball this year, I reckon.' "

    "He called it a Boo Ball!?" huffed Hermione in annoyance.

    "Oh that's just him making as if he's disinterested Hermione," said Ginny wisely, rolling her eyes. "You know it would take a right miracle for him to openly allow emotion."

    Hermione squinched her face at the other girl. "And you find this… appealing…"

    Ginny laughed. "It's not real. He's somewhat of a challenge, yes, but I know how to make him stop acting a prick."

    "And how's that?" asked Hermione. "Hang on, better…what'd you say to him?"

    Ginny cut her eyes at Hermione in a sadistic way. "I told him I'd already been asked by three other wizards, and I wouldn't mind going with one of them if he fancied the 'Boo Ball' beneath him."

    Hermione stared at her for a moment and then grinned, which made Ginny finally break out into a peal of laughter. "Cheeky…quite the manipulator, aren't you?"

    "And with whom did I grow up?" declared Ginny as if that righted the matter. "Always master manipulators, that Fred and George. Anyhow, it's not how I see it. It's rather more like…helping Draco come out from his shell of denial."

    Hermione smiled again and shook her head at the younger girl. "So then he asked you."

    "He paused a few moments for effect, probably to see whether I was bluffing. Then he said, and I quote again: 'Well, I'll need to go anyway, I suppose. Just to warrant the party won't be a complete pansy-arse affair. I'll pick you up at seven.' "

    "Is that so…" Scoffed Hermione as she and Ginny entered Lupin's classroom and chose seats next to Ron and Harry. "And who are you two going as?"

    Ginny blanched and felt her stomach fluttering. "That's the problem!" she whispered back as Lupin turned to address his students. "I don't know! He only asked me yesterday and before that I was thinking of going stag, you know; thought I'd meet someone there. Now I actually have a theme to think of!"

    Hermione shook her head and held a hand up towards Ginny. "No worries. I have a book back at our common room that will help. We'll talk more after."

    Ginny widened her eyes at Hermione. "A book?" She hissed with a panicky voice. "Hermione it isn't a class, it's a party! How could a book possibly help!?"

    Hermione glanced at Ginny patiently and whispered under her breath. " 'The Costumed Couple: A Witch's Guide to Matching her Mate'. Got it from Madame Pince last week. Harry and I've already got ours picked. I'll show you how to transfigure them."

    Ginny let out her breath and stared openly at her friend for a few moments. "You never cease to amaze me."

    Hermione smiled proudly in return.

    **************************************************

    Hermione turned to peer at herself in the mirror and gasped as she saw how Ginny had transfigured her own costume into what she had described as 'less bookish Hermione, and more daring Hermione'. The sky blue dress was styled as if it were straight from the rich societies of the seventeen hundreds, full and flowing down to the floor. But the bodice was quite revealing, leaving little to the imagination, and the dress hugged the entire top of her body down to her slim hips like a glove. She wore silver hoop earrings, a small silver chain with a dagger pendant, and matching boots on her feet. Ginny had wanted to make her face up more than it was, but Hermione insisted that a swashbuckler's wench would probably not be heavily made up. She wore only mascara, a hint of blush, and a red tinted lip gloss. Her head of heavy curls was piled loosely on top, with ringlets falling here and there around her face. She did indeed look as if she'd been a wealthy passenger on a ship, just kidnapped by a pirating swashbuckler.

    "Oh Ginny…I don't…my original dress was fine. Harry'll fall over when he claps his eyes on this! I think we've gone rather too far."

    Ginny had come to Hermione's room to change with her, and Harry and Draco were slumped in the private common room, sitting as far apart as possible, ignoring each other magnificently, and looking for the world like they'd rather be anywhere else in the universe than in the same room alone together, in costumes. Both had already called for the girls to 'get a move on' at least a dozen times or more respectively, but the only response they had gotten was that 'beauty took time'. Time they had, thought Harry daring to glance Malfoy's way, patience was another thing entirely.

    Ginny, who had been busy waving her wand over her own get-up, turned to look at Hermione and suddenly gave a squeal of delight. "Oh Hermione! No! It's brill! You look dead sexy. And I rather think once he sees you he'll stand up quite nicely…"

    "Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione in her most scandalised voice.

    "Oh don't be such a prude," laughed Ginny, smoothing out her Egyptian queen costume and adjusting her gold head-dress. "Besides, your costume is no more extreme than mine, I think."

    Ginny was decked out in a long white toga, but had made sure to let it fall well within bounds of her cleavage, and had transfigured a revealing slit along the side. The costume was complete with golden bands around her upper arms, gold bangles around her wrists, a slim golden belt, and a golden amulet around her neck. The head-dress complimented her thick straight red hair, and a gold chain of different coloured jewels dangled across her forehead. She had thick black eyeliner swept across her upper lids and drawn outward to make her eyes appear more catlike, and had painted her lips a deep red.

    Hermione turned to her and placed her hands on her hips. "You've just made my point."

    Ginny waltzed over to her, placed her hand on the older girls waist, and turned her toward the mirror so she could fully take in her own form. "Look at you, Hermione. You look smashing! Besides, how often are we able to relax and just be free?

    You've heard the phrase 'Carpe Diem', I'm sure."

    Hermione frowned at herself and Ginny in the mirror. "And I'm sure they meant 'seize the day', not strangle it."

    Ginny smiled patiently, and for once, seemed as if she were the wiser one giving advice. "They were referring to anytime one might step out from oneself for just a little while and run wild."

    Hermione swallowed. "Wild?"

    "We'll settle for less reserved," said Ginny with a smirk. "Now, we'd better get out there before Draco and Harry start a row. Neither of them seemed too eager to wait with the other."

    Harry stood quickly as the creak of hinges behind him sounded. "Finally…" he muttered. Though after seeing Hermione stand shyly before him, and then gaze at him more boldly as she took in his own costume with an open mouth, he forgave her instantly.

    Hermione thought she'd never seen Harry look more…well…dangerously sexy.

    He wore a dark blue scarf round his head that almost met his eyebrows and knotted round the back. His longish hair curled out from under the bottom of it quite nicely. He'd decided to forego shaving the past couple of days to add to the effect, and she thought there was nothing she'd like better to do right then than to run her hands over those roughened cheeks. He'd charmed a gold hoop earring in his left earlobe, and wore a roughened skull pendant round his neck on a gold chain. His billowy white shirt hung open almost to his navel, showing a nice expanse of olive skin, a chiselled chest, and a line of fine black hair, (her favourite line of fine black hair). The dark blue pants, tucked into black boots, were held on by a dark red scarf tied round his middle. Godric Gryffindor's sword hung from his sash, magically lightened, and held in a roughened leather looking sheath.

    When he smiled at her though, Hermione thought to herself that she was sure no mangy pirate of the old seas had ever had such straight white teeth with such a dangerously crooked grin.

    "Wow 'Mione…you're, I mean you…loo…look like…just…WOW."

    Hermione was sure she blushed five deep shades of crimson, as much for the inarticulate compliment as for the scandalous thoughts running through her mind.

    She swallowed and shook her head, choosing not to reply. "We'd…better get there then, before we miss the whole thing."

    Harry grabbed her round the waist and spun her to him, grinning madly and lowering his voice an octave. "I wouldn't mind."

    "Harry!" Hermione hissed through gritted teeth as she motioned toward Ginny and Malfoy.

    But neither of them had noticed. Ginny was too busy by-passing the besotted, lustful looks Draco was giving her, and taking in his costume. Neffertiti had met her Caesar.

    Malfoy had chosen to forego the toga theme, and had instead donned the tight brown leather of a king just out from battle. He too had foregone shaving and had a nice smattering of rough blonde on his jaw. He'd charmed his hair short and spiky, which added to the rugged warrior theme. The studded leather vest was sleeveless, showing pale skin and Quidditch toned arms, with leather bicep-bands. The pants (good Godric) were equally as leather, and equally as tight, with brown worn boots on his feet and a sword at his side. Six golden studs ran up both of his ears, and a leather band was tied round his forehead. A more modern approach to Egyptian warrior clothing? Ginny looked down at the tight leather pants and couldn't bring herself to mind.

    Hermione smiled at Harry as she saw the two gazing at each other and motioned him to follow her out from the common room. He looked uncomfortable at seeing Malfoy ogling Ginny, who was like his sister, but was given no choice but to follow Hermione out the portrait door.

    "When he sees the two of them together like that, Ron'll go completely apeshit," said Harry with dread as he and Hermione walked down a hall transfigured to appear as a dark menacing forest covered in mist.

    Despite knowing it was only a hoax, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm even tighter when an unknown animal growled through the night at her. "And he'll just have to deal with it, won't he?" Her voice was shaky with nerves.

    A pair of gleaming red eyes suddenly appeared in front of them and Hermione screamed, almost jumping bodily into Harry's arms. But Harry waited it out, and then chuckled and set her back down again as the red faded from their view.

    "A bit inconsiderate of them to use that particular scam, wasn't it?"

    Hermione shuddered and didn't let go of Harry's arm. "Had to make them glowing red, didn't they? Like…like his."

    "I'm sure it was Filch or one of the others," he replied. "Dumbledore would've known better. But not many've actually seen Voldemort, you know?"

    Hermione stopped abruptly and looked up at him. "Harry…just for tonight, let's not mention his name. Let's pretend for just one night that all there is this party, and school and friends…and us."

    Harry gazed at her for a moment and then smiled understandingly. "Ok, love. For tonight, the world is normal."

    Draco and Ginny joined them some minutes later, though both could tell they'd done a bit of snogging first, and the four made it more or less together to the Great Hall, separating quickly once they'd opened the doors and stepped inside. The sight that greeted them was a surprising one, indeed.

    The whole of the hall had been transfigured to look as if they had stepped into a giant dark forest with a large hollowed clearing, complete with tall twisted trees, thick underbrush, eerie white mist, and filtered moonlight, just as the hallway had been. The ceiling, always charmed to reflect the outside, showed a black sky, very few stars owing to the overcast of smoke grey clouds, and a pale waning moon, fuzzy round the edges.

    There was already a roar of voices, laughter and music, and the huge 'clearing' in the midst of the forest held hundreds of costumed students, milling about, heading toward the overloaded snack tables, or moving toward one of the numbers of games that had been set up about the edge of the circle. A stage had been placed toward one edge as well, and Harry noticed that the surprise act for the evening was none other than Werewolf Wilmur. He was currently on the second verse of "I Wanna Fang You for Loving Me", his smash hit on the WWN right after "Howlo, my love".

    Ron caught site of Harry and Hermione and grabbed Lavender's hand, beaming and weaving in-between the crowd to get to them. Harry stifled a laugh as he approached.

    "There you are! Thought you'd decided to stay in and snog for the evening." He yelled over the din of noise.

    Hermione noticed Lavender seemed a bit nervous and kept glancing around them to see if anyone was looking their way, but after spotting Ron, it was easy to guess why. He was dressed in very wide legged pants, cuffed to his ankles at the bottom and black slippers, curled at the toes. His silky vest was black as well and open to show a nice expanse of pale, freckled chest, and a black silk turban was wrapped around his head. Lavender wore an open pale purple vest with a modest pale purple bra underneath, the same colour bloomers covered in blooming gauzy pants, and the same type shoes. Her blonde hair was covered with a series of veils, with a transparent one covering her nose and mouth and a band of gold coins were strung across her forehead.

    Ron grinned at them again. "So I suppose you two are pirate and wench then?"

    "Swashbuckler," corrected Harry, his mouth contorted as he tried to stifle a laugh. Ron looked a bit, well…feminine in his costume. He was sure he didn't know. "And Hermione does make a fetching wench, doesn't she?"

    He paused as Hermione shot him a mock-offended look and winked cheekily at her before returning his attention to Ron. "So…what exactly are you supposed to be?"

    Suddenly Lavender dropped Ron's hand with a huff and turned poutily to him. "You see Ron! I told you we'd be asked that question all night!"

    Ron widened his eyes at her as if she were being unreasonable. "No worries Lav!" He turned back to his friends with a smirk and addressed Harry. "It's obvious who we are dipshit. I'm a sheikh, and Lav here is my belly-dancing slave."

    "I'm not a slave," Lavender retorted quickly.

    "Ah," nodded Harry, grinning.

    "Echoes of your name I hear, howling in the wind, just howling in the wind, OWOOOO! And I just wanna fang you for loooovin' me…"

    The song rose in pitch, obviously a favourite part for Wilmur. Harry, Hermione and Lavender winced simultaneously.

    "This is my favourite of his," said Ron as he turned from looking at the stage to beam at them once again. " 'Howlo my love' has more or less travelled to the bottom of my list thanks to Seamus."

    "Can't imagine why," said Hermione drolly.

    "Right," said Ron. "Well, time to get loose! See you two on the dance floor!"

    He stuck out his tongue and made a dance move reminiscent of a wounded hippogriff stumbling toward its final resting place. Harry dissolved into snorts of laughter.

    Lavender rolled her eyes at Ron but grinned and yanked him out onto the dance floor anyway.

    Harry led Hermione to the dance floor and pulled her close, despite the song having a medium beat. "Well, maybe Dumbledore'll decide to switch on the WWN soon. Don't think I can lump Wilmur all night long."

    "Let's hope," said Hermione with a crooked smile.

    They'd finally gotten their wish, and had been on the dance floor for around an hour before Professor McGonnagol, dressed as Fredweina the Fierce in a long black dress of rags, a painted-on scowl, and carrying several fake daggers on a belt around her waist, came up on stage and announced that it was time for the contest, judged by the professors, on whose costume was the most inventive. Most hadn't even known there was to be a contest. There were well over three hundred students present as fifth year and up were invited to the bash, so when it came time for willing students to come up on stage to be seen by all, it was no wonder that a few costumes had slipped the attention of Professor Sinistra, who was to make certain that no one entered the Great Hall in costumes that were deemed 'inappropriate'.

    Crabbe and Goyle, whose costumes almost rendered McGonnagol completely catatonic, were immediately ordered to get out and change into something suitably decent, or else. Coming to the bash as a couple of sumo wrestlers had truly been the wrong idea.

    Ron mentioned to Harry as the two idiots ran out guffawing to one another, that if he was ever, EVER able to get the sight of their fat naked arsecheeks out of his mind it would be a bloody miracle. Harry was immensely thankful none of their bits and pieces had fallen out in the process. The comment won him a punch and scowl from Hermione.

    Seamus Finnegan, Gryffindor's resident skirt-chaser, was swiftly frowned upon as he charged on stage as a 'lamp', with a round shade and a pull string over his head, and asked if there were any witches available to turn him on. One from the audience had just time enough to announce she'd rather 'pull the plug' before McGonnagol herself angrily chased him from the hall. There was an eruption of laughter with that one.

    Neville Longbottom looked positively miserable in his giant carrot costume, followed onstage by a smiling Susan Bones, in a pair of long bunny ears, a modest white one piece swimsuit, a fluffy tail, and charmed oversized front teeth. They received a few votes. Harry was sure that particular embarrassment had been Susan's idea.

    Dean Thomas won quite a few votes as he toddled onstage in a giant white box, labelled 'Toasty O's' with fake blood smears, knives, and guns attached and announced that he was a 'Cereal Killer'. Dumbledore, dressed as Merlin, found that one quite amusing and clapped the hardest among the audience.

    Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were promptly removed after showing up as a pimp and his hooker, and Millicent Bullstrode received quite a few boos and retching noises when she sauntered onstage as a French maid in a tiny lacy black dress, a white apron, fishnet stockings and high-heeled mary janes. Ron decided right then and there to poke out his mind's eye.

    To top these off, a particularly randy Ravenclaw boy walked onstage with a cigarette in his mouth, messy hair, and condom wrappers stuck to his terry cloth robe, and announced that he was 'The Morning After', and would anyone care to experience the night before? Following these, McGonnagol somehow found a way to pale even more than she'd already done.

    Cho Chang received a few votes as Little Dead Riding Hood. A sixth year Gryffindor was chased from the hall after showing up in a hospital gown, gloves, stethoscope, magnifying glass round his head, chocolate pudding smeared down his gown, a 'Dr. Ben Dover' nametag, and the announcement that he was a 'proctologist'. When he began licking pudding from his gloves, a faint Hermione quickly found a seat.

    The night saw a Formal Apology, complete with bowtie, a Split Personality, Lightning Victim, Green Olive and Pimento, White Trash, and even a Sand Witch. But the grand winners were two Hufflepuffs, one dressed as a gigantic salt shaker, and the other as a giant Duracell, stating that they were 'Assault and Battery'. Even Snape smiled with that one, and the award was given.

    Harry felt eternally grateful once the Weird Sisters began to blare from enhanced speakers, and he and Hermione alternated between dancing near Ron and Lavender, (in which Harry and Ron tried to constantly outdo the other with really awful dance moves), and wandering round the edges of the floor in search of a game or two.

    The Levitating Sherbet Ball Bob was near the same as the Muggle version of bobbing for apples, Hermione explained to Harry, who had never had the pleasure of either. They watched Casper Eustance, a Ravenclaw from the Advanced DADA class compete with a housemate on who could bob the fastest, though it was an unfair contest. Castor's Dracula teeth made it much too easy for him.

    There was a table of potions (Snape had obviously done), in which the 'victim' was dared to drink a potion, and hope the results weren't permanent.

    In one corner, a cluster of students were playing Pin the Wart on the Witch, Seamus, Dean and Neville were currently trying to best each other at Pumpkin Bowling, and a pumpkin pasty eating contest had already made one contestant vomit all over his Unemployed Clown costume. The sign round his neck, reading "Happy the Clown needs work…owl me. Will work for food" was currently covered in chunks.

    There was a mock wizard duel going on at the other end of the hall, but Hermione chose to Fish the Witches Brew, where the contestant could reach their hand inside a cauldron and hope they fished out a candy from Honeydukes rather than Zonko's Joke Shop. But after the accidental ingestion of a few exploding bon-bons, she kept the sugar quills and gave the rest to a fifth year near them.

    Harry decided later he wanted to do something a little less juvenile and convinced Hermione, Ron and Lavender to tromp round the Maze of Dread that had been conjured up outside near the Quidditch pitch. It took a lot of begging, but he and Ron were finally able to convince the girls to do it.

    The four grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the briskly cool evening, though Harry could tell Hermione was shivering from much more than the cold. He wrapped an arm round her shoulders and gave her a squeeze as they crunched their way through dried leaves toward the pitch.

    "Not scared are you, love? We're not even there yet."

    Hermione shot him a look. "I'm not especially keen on mazes of dread, Harry."

    "Neither am I," said Lavender with a shudder as she walked ahead of them with Ron.

    "It's not a real one," said Ron in exasperation. "Besides, I want to see the kind of job Hagrid did on it. He was the one who set it up, you know."

    "Hagrid!?" squealed Lavender, grabbing onto Ron's arm. "Swell! Can't wait to see what type of horrors he's put in there. Spiders on steroids, pools of grindylows, manticores, blast-ended skrewts…"

    "He wouldn't put anything real in there," said Harry with a snort.

    Hermione glanced warily at him and slowed a bit. "Harry, you know I love him but…well,…it is Hagrid we're talking about. He can be a bit…over-enthusiastic."

    "Bugger!" exclaimed Ron, throwing up his hands and turning to walk backward for a moment as he addressed her. " 'Mione, could you just try being spontaneous, for once!? It'll be fine! Living on the edge can be fun every now and then, right Harry?"

    "Er…" Harry scratched nervously behind his ear as he watched Hermione's eyes flash dangerously at Ron. It was a look he'd seen before.

    Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. "Fun, is it? Well Ron, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I've experienced 'the edge', as you put it, right along with you and Harry every bloody year we've been in Hogwarts! In fact, I believe I've been there, done that and brought back souvenirs!"

    "Oh, do we have to mention any of that?" said Lavender feebly as she eyed the tall closely grown bushes they approached.

    Ron rolled his eyes. "That's not what I mean 'Mione and you know it…"

    They'd reached the opening of the large maze, which had been thankfully built as to least likely resemble the one from the Tri-Wizard Tournament in their fourth year, and Harry decided he'd better nip the conversation in the bud before it turned into a full blown row.

    He held up his hands and put on his most disarming grin; the one that had charmed his way through many a situation. "All right, that's enough. Ron, you two are worse together than you and Ginny." Ron huffed in irritation and Harry turned to Hermione. "We don't have to go in, love. I just thought it would be fun…but I understand if you're too frightened of what might be in there…"

    Hermione scowled instantly. "Frightened!? Who's Frightened!?" She turned to stare accusatorily at both Harry and Ron. "Do you know what I…haven't I been with…I've seen just as much as…aarrgghh!"

    She growled in exasperation and blazed past Harry, Ron and an open-mouthed Lavender to stomp through the opening and down the dark trail. They heard distinct mumblings of "…the nerve…just as much as they've done…wouldn't have made it half as far without me…"

    Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and made to follow her, but not before grinning covertly at Ron and giving him a cocky wink.

    Ron sniggered and punched him in the arm. "Always could get to her…cheeky bastard."

    Harry chuckled and made his way down the darkened maze where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him not too far down the way. Ron and Lavender followed a few minutes later.

    **************************************

    After many heart-stopping run-ins with creatures such as a fully grown Chimaera, (a monster with a lion's head, goat's body and dragon's tail), a Demiguise, which kept turning invisible and brushing against a terrified Hermione, a herd of particularly nasty Fire Crabs (tortoise-like creatures that shot flames from their arses), swarming Glumbumbles, annoying Imps that kept trying to pull at Lavender's scarves, and a bunch of Nifflers, which Ron begged to follow as he was sure they'd lead him to treasure, the four finally made their ways out from the maze. Ron was sure by that time Lavender had coined the phrase "NEVER AGAIN".

    They'd heard others decide to try the maze after them, and saw once they'd come out that a large number of students had made their ways out to the grounds. Curfew for this night was to be ten o'clock, but several professors had followed the queue of students outside to watch over them owing to the events of recent months. No one seemed to be complaining.

    The four decided to split up at that point, especially since Ron had just caught site of Ginny and Draco headed in the opposite direction of the maze and was sure they were headed somewhere to snog. As he stormed off, Hermione pleaded with Lavender to try and pound some reason into him, and she hurried off after him.

    When they'd gone, Hermione smiled wickedly at Harry and grabbed his hand, leading him round the lake until they'd reached a secluded area. She pulled him close and smiled impishly up at him as he winked at her.

    "I know what you did…"

    Harry feigned shock. "Me?"

    "Of course you, you nit. You made me tromp through that horrible maze."

    Harry shook his head vehemently. "I never made you. Can I help it you can't back from a challenge? Besides…" he grinned wickedly, "I thought we might do a bit of snogging in there. Never can be sure how long it'll be getting through one of those."

    "Only it was too terrifying for that, wasn't it!?" exclaimed Hermione.

    Harry wisely decided to take a different tack. "You really do look smashing tonight," he said, grabbing her tightly again round the waist.

    Hermione gave him a suspicious look. "Are you trying to charm me with your pirate mojo? It won't work, you know. I'll never fall for it. You've kidnapped me and taken me from my family and riches, you great dirty mercenary."

    Harry grinned and then stepped back from her, affecting an angry air. "For the last time, I'm a swashbuckler, wench! And you'll do as I say or I'll have no choice but to punish you!"

    Hermione crossed her arms over her chest dramatically and raised her chin. "Do your worst. I'll never give in."

    "Oh won't you…" said Harry stepping closer.

    "Never."

    "Not a bit…"

    "Not even an…in..inch…" stuttered Hermione as Harry stood inches from her face and placed his hands on his hips. He stared at her for a few moments, fixing her with a crystal green gaze until a dangerous smirk crept onto his face. Hermione felt her knees giving.

    "Brave girl…" he whispered as his eyes bored into hers. "Ready to be punished?" He watched a shiver make its way slowly down her body and fought the staggering impulse to grab her and take her to the ground.

    Her heart began pounding out a rapid rhythm of desire, and a thrill shot from the middle of her chest straight downward. Calm, sure, confident Hermione Granger felt herself beginning to tremble under his clear gaze. Damnhimdamnhimdamnhim… But she was determined not to let him have the victory so easily this night…

    She widened her eyes seductively and leaned even closer to him, making sure to brush against him in just the right way. "Depends on what you had in mind."

    And Harry's mouth went dry.

    "Wh…well I…"

    "I'm young," said Hermione, now revelling in the gobsmacked look on Harry's face. "I'm sure I can withstand a lot. You'll find I have high tolerance for torture…"

    Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione!"

    She moved to press against him, and Harry balled his hands into tight fists, willing himself to keep control, just keep control…

    "I won't give in…" breathed Hermione on tiptoes, lips close enough to brush lightly against the hollow of his throat. She felt a hard swallow travel its way down his neck and smiled against it. Who's in control now… "You'll have to keep finding new ways to discipline me…better start thinking…" She placed a finger on the hollow she'd just kissed and let it run down the open length of his shirt, down the soft black trail of hair that stopped at his navel…

    The scent and sight of her shut out everything else in the world, and Harry finally reached his breaking point. He brought his hands up to fist in her hair and pulled her head back to look at her. The look of hungry desire on his face almost shocked her. He'd never looked quite so…carnivorous before. Without any more words he tilted his head and brought his lips down to hers. He began tasting her…slowly, but with such an intensity that it felt like she'd just been set on fire. She felt her knees buckle. His must have gone from under him as well, because he grabbed her and brought her to the ground with him, not caring about either of their costumes, and certainly not thinking of the fact that they might get caught. Curfew went out the window as well.

    Hermione laced her fingers around the back of his neck and felt the soft fine hairs beneath the waves on his nape. She couldn't help it. She'd always loved his hair, so soft and dark and with the constant messy look, as if he'd just gotten off a wild ride on his broom. She knew he wished he could tame it, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Truth be told, she found it sexy as hell.

    Harry ran his hands down her bare arms, down her barely exposed thigh, and back up toward her waist again. It seemed he couldn't get enough of touching her, tasting her, smelling her…hell, all five senses were buzzing with an electric current…one name fluttered in his head like a hundred snitches and pounded in his heart like a bludger. HermioneHermioneHermione… Her hair had come down, and Harry grabbed a handful of it, bringing it to his face as she kissed his neck, her fingernails down his back making him shiver. Long, soft, golden chestnut curls, berry scented shampoo (damn her)… soft olive skin, flawless… gorgeous bay eyes, doe eyes… a sloped feminine nose, turned up a bit on the tip (he kissed it), full pink lips, a hint of that brown colouring along the edges…gods, she was perfection, and better, she was Hermione. Hermione Granger… HIS Hermione… Hermione Potter… Hermione Anne Potter…

    "Hermione Potter," whispered Hermione in Harry's ear. He leaned up to gaze at her. Had he said it out loud?

    He started to say something, but the words left him, and he merely leaned up on an elbow, placed a hand under her head like a pillow and grinned down at her.

    She smiled up at him and pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. His headscarf had come off during the rolling and grabbing, and one piece stood straight up towards the back. She forced herself not to grab him and snog him lifeless again.

    "Did I…out loud?" began Harry quietly.

    "No," she said with a broad smile. "Not out loud. But I know you were thinking the same thing. It has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?"

    Harry sighed; a happy, idiotic crazy-in-love sigh only Hermione was allowed to hear. "The best."

    "Someday…" she smiled up at him.

    He leaned down to place another kiss on the tip of her nose and saw she was nearly spilling out from the top of her dress. "Not soon enough for me," he said randily.

    Hermione followed his gaze down and flushed a deep crimson. "Harry James Potter!" She sat up shoving him off of her and pulled up on the bodice of her dress. "You sodding perve! How dare you…"

    Harry laughed and rolled over to stand and offer her a hand-up. "I never saw anything."

    "…And me without a single peek at you," she finished with a mischievous raise of her eyebrow.

She laughed out loud and began running as fast as she could toward the castle, with Harry in hot pursuit behind her. It had been a good day. It had been an even better night.

23. Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

• • Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

    As November came and neared its end, bringing a wintry chill to the air and the first hint of snow lightly frosting the ground, Harry was surprised at how calmly his days had been passing. There hadn't been a single threat from Voldemort in almost two months now, and owing to the fact that the Dementors had defected and the dark lord now had around fifteen Death Eaters with him, the lack of bad news was confounding to say the least.

    Hermione had both Harry and Ron working harder than ever on their N.E.W.T.s, and since she was the organisational sort, she'd stayed up late one night devising a strict study schedule for them to go by. She'd even made up flash cards for each of their classes, and spent many an hour going meticulously through each one until she was sure the material had been memorised through and through. Ron called these the 'groaning hours', and Harry usually spent the better part of the first one keeping the two of them from another row, though he rather felt like Ron.

    The one thing he missed since becoming the busiest he'd ever been, was the few times he was able to grab his broom (the fact that it was a Flametorch was a plus) head outside, and take to the skies before anyone could catch him. He craved these minutes of alone time, where he was able to gather his thoughts and find fresh perspective on the amazing amount of pressures and worries constantly pounding in his head. It seemed the higher he flew, the more in sync with his own body he became, and he was able to sort out those things he couldn't when surrounded by the circumstance. His father was one issue he was sure he'd never quite know how to deal with. He wanted to be able to connect with him; to be able to have the kind of father/son relationship he'd always so desperately needed. But on the deepest level, he knew the kind of relationship he'd craved all of his life was just simply not going to be. It had been too long; the chasm between them had grown much too wide and deep.

    What he had craved was unconditional love; the full trust and knowledge that one's parent always knew best, and that they were always right; always the ones to turn to in times of need or trouble. But those were things learned early on, things not taught, just simply known and accepted in the normal growth of a parent/child relationship; one that had deepened with experience and years; one with plenty of time to nourish it; one that hadn't been broken. He hoped that he and his father would ultimately learn to trust and love each other, but he was a man now, and had grown up alone. He knew who he was and what he believed through himself, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and the Weasleys. And where did that leave James? He wasn't sure. There would always be a rift there; a day when some remark would leave Harry wondering who James thought he was to give him advice. Some time when he might come to resent James wanting to be fatherly to him, and even the simple knowledge, as he thought on now, that his own father really didn't even know who he was. It was these thoughts that made Harry know that no matter how long he and his father worked on their relationship, some things were constant.

    Whoever it was that said "time heals all wounds" had left the phrase a little unfinished. Time did heal all wounds, but a scar always remained.

    Despite the chaos of N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, homework, Head Boy duties, and extra classes, Harry still found time to spend each night with Hermione. When all duties were done, they were able to retreat into their little corner of the castle, slam the portrait door on the rest of the world, and just breathe in each other. For Harry, it was his one saving grace, and he could honestly say he would rather be with her than breezing through the clouds. While being on his broom high above every circumstance gave him a chance to think clearly, the sky couldn't talk back, could it? Hermione helped him sort it all out, organise it, put it into perspective, and stack it up neatly for later pondering. After all, she knew him as well as he knew himself.

    And when all the talk was done, it was wonderful to be with someone with whom you were comfortable even in silence. A home to come to, finally. To just simply put his arms round her and hold her close, slumped on the soft couch, in a dark room lit only by dim orange flames…to him, this was a glimpse of heaven.

    Peace…such an underrated thing.

    He'd had more talks with his father; each one a little less surface and a little more at ease. They were slipping into a rhythm of being, a nod and smile here, a conversation there, invitations to meet with one another for a butterbeer and catch up, no pushing to open up; one could open up if they wished. James had filled Harry in on a lot of the missed events of his own life, which consisted most of hiding out under assumed names and taking odd jobs. He'd helped Harry to see his mother through his fathers eyes; helped him to know the kind of witch she was. Though, he told Harry, the easiest way to know his mother was to know Hermione, as their personalities were so much alike.

    The Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were going better than even Lupin had expected. Each student continued to improve daily, and as was habit for him, Lupin paid special attention in his own mind, on how his son and his two friends were coming along. Ron had become so adept at defensive spells that when it became time to break into pairs to practice, no one seemed to want to pair with him voluntarily. Harry was wonderful at defence himself, but his strongest suit seemed to be attack. He had become so proficient at it, that he was hardly put on defence himself at all, including his classes with the sword. He was now able to perform wandless magic almost exclusively, even at times he seemed not to be concentrating especially hard on it.

    And Hermione; her skills seemed to be the most unusual of them all, due to the fact that they had been so unexpected. She'd been working with Pomfrey on almost every case that came into the infirmary since the incident with Malfoy, and she was now able to perform healing magic on almost every ailment, though still using her wand, with either a dramatic improvement or complete recovery. She'd wowed Poppy even more at times when she seemed especially emotional about a particular injury, as it seemed then her wand was hardly needed. Pomfrey assured her that even the most expert of healers required the use of their wands at all times. She was so awed by the power for healing Hermione seemed to possess that she'd already sent in a recommendation that she be tested at graduation level at University of Sorcery, subject: "The Healing Arts". If she passed, Hermione would be assured a job at St. Mungo's as soon as she left Hogwarts.

    However, as Harry had only half sarcastically put it to Hermione and Ron one night, since Voldemort had decided to pause on rearing his ugly head for a while, something else had to happen to take his place, didn't it? What would the life of the 'terrific trio' be without drama? He was right as he would soon find out.

    Ron and he still attended their classes on Divination with Trelawny without fail, and were bent on paying attention to her for once, since the prophecy she had made several months prior seemed to be unfolding before their eyes. So it was, this particular Thursday afternoon, the twentieth of November, that Harry and Ron, and later Hermione as well, received another disturbance to add to their already toppling pile.

    The class went by as usual, with a curiously nervous Trelawny looking more owlish that ever behind her enormous magnifying spectacles. As ever, the classroom was overly perfumed and warm, even though the temperature outside had dropped considerably, and the red scarves she kept over the few lamps lent it a sickly pastel colour. Round tables, set here and there were surrounded by students, the majority of whom were trying their best to stay awake. Every now and then as she spoke, Trelawny would walk between the tables and rap students with heavy eyes and nodding chins on the top of the head with her wand. She seemed oddly rigid and tense, but kept her voice as steady as possible as she droned on about the art of psychometry, in which a wizard or witch talented in feeling the "emanation" certain objects gave off, or more commonly known as "scrying", could get senses or emotions on the history and use of the object.

    "For instance," continued Trelawny, turning her head very quickly to glance at Potter and sighing tremulously(it was so quick that few noticed save he and Ron), "some of the gifted are able to hold certain medicines in their hands, and feel the symptoms of the last wizard to have used it. Yet again, some are able to get a sense of the 'history' if you will, of an object; any one, be it an old wand, a cloak, a key, or even a bottle. All objects give off an emanation, an aura…"

    "Wonder if she can tell how this was last used," whispered Ron indifferently, flipping a bird under his desk.

    Harry swiped a hand down his face and slumped even further in his seat, doing his very best to pay attention. So far the class had been the usual rot. It was only when Trelawny seemed to go mental that she ever spoke anything of consequence anyway. Though these days he wasn't sure he'd know the difference when it came.

    Parvarti, whom Lavender insisted on sitting with since she knew how Ron felt about the class, suddenly spoke up. "Oh professor, I feel sometimes I have that gift. I'm sure of it!"

    Half of the class groaned, but a murderous look from Trelawny shut the whole of them up.

    "Go on, Ms. Patil."

    "I've a bracelet a certain someone bought for me not too long ago," sniffed Parvarti quite proudly, as if she were the only girl to ever receive gifts from a boy. "Every time I wear it, which is often, I get the most peculiar feeling…as if, oh I dunno…as if the last owner was unethical…a leery sort."

    Trelawny smiled proudly at her. "Well done, Ms. Patil. You may very well have a bit of the psychometrist in you. Are there other objects you seem to feel…"

    "Hang on," called out Dean Thomas, sitting next to a suddenly pale Seamus Finnegan, "Let's see that bracelet…"

    Parvarti whipped round to stare suspiciously at him. "What for?"

    " Mr. Thomas, we've a lesson to finish," said Trelawny, annoyed.

    Dean grinned. "Just hold it up a sec."

    Parvarti looked at Dean as if he was a huge nuisance but shook her dark hair, rolled her eyes and held up her wrist haughtily for all to see anyway.

    Seamus looked as if he were trying to disappear under the table, but a sniggering Dean suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him up, poking him hard in the ribs with his elbow.

    "Finnegan! You dirty dog!"

    "OW! Bloody hell, you sodding…"

    "…That isn't the bracelet you gave to Mirabel Adkins last week!?"

    Parvarti's jaw dropped and Seamus began to stutter. "W..well I…that is…"

    Dean snorted heartily. "…and Bertrand Porter the week before, and Adelaide Thompson two weeks before that…HA HA!"

    Dean slammed his head onto his desk howling, Ron began to perk up significantly, Parvarti began colouring and Seamus kept paling.

    "No, you see…it's not how you think…" said Seamus desperately, watching Parvarti grow more and more furious.

    "How dare you…" she hissed yanking the bracelet off and throwing it onto the floor. "Bertrand Porter!? And Thompson… that thick blonde Hufflepuff!?"

    Lavender reached over to console her, patting her on the back and giving Finnegan a scathing look.

    Dean raised his head from the table and swiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks, barely controlling his voice. "Y'might be a true psychometrist! Unethical and leery…that bracelet's gotten Seamus more arse this year than ever before…"

    "DEAN THOMAS!" shouted Trelawny furiously.

    "Have you gone barking mad!?" wheezed Seamus, gripping at Dean's robes.

    Ron howled, slamming his fist onto the table and Harry laughed out loud. As the entire class followed, bursting into laughter, Harry thought this was the best class they'd had yet. Parvarti looked ready to commit murder.

    Before Trelawny could speak another word, the bizarre clock on the wall suddenly switched Mars' path with Jupiter and announced in a rather trance-like voice that class was over.

    Students began to scramble up and Trelawny placed a hand on either side of her head as if literally holding it together.

    "Fourteen inches on Psychometry, the art and its uses by tomorrow!" she called out almost wearily as students began to leave.

    The class seemed to sag as a whole at that, but roared with laughter once again as Seamus frantically blazed a path through them screaming "ONE SIDE! OUT OF MY WAY!" with a violent Parvarti hot on his trail, her wand out and ready to hex.

    Before Harry and Ron could make their escape however, Trelawny called them back. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll need to speak with you."

    Harry sighed and turned back round with Ron to re-enter the class.

    "D'you suppose she saw me flip her?" whispered Ron anxiously.

    "Doubt it," said Harry.

    They approached Trelawny's desk where she slumped wearily wrapping her shawl round her shoulders and dropped their books onto a nearby table.

    Trelawny glanced up at them impatiently. "Well, c'mon then. Pull up chairs, this might take a bit."

    "Professor we have Advanced DADA," said Harry as they sat. "We'll be late…"

    "I've cleared it with Professor Lupin for you two to be absent today. And as what I have to say may very well involve Ms. Granger as well I'll trust you two to fill her in once we're through."

    Harry sat up quickly. "What about Hermione…"

    "Not her directly, or either of you two for that matter," said Trelawny. Once again she affected her usual otherworldly voice.

    "Last night, while I slumbered…I had a dream…rather a vision as we with the inner eye are sometimes wont to do," she sighed dramatically as if it were such a burden to be so gifted. Ron rolled his eyes as she continued. "I carried it to Dumbledore this morning, and he felt same as I, that it somehow might involve the three of you, quite possibly as my last prophesy did," she emphasised sternly.

    Ron's jaw dropped and he sat up shocked, looking from Trelawny to Harry. "But how…mate you didn't tell…"

    "Oh yes, I know about that one," said Trelawny quite importantly.

    "But you seemed catatonic…quite unaware you'd said anything," said Harry, just as surprised as Ron seemed to be.

"My star students keep me well informed," said Trelawny smiling righteously.

• • Ron rolled his eyes. "Parvarti and Lavender, then."

    Trelawny nodded, eyeing them sternly as she did. "They told me of the prophecy I made. I would've never known if they hadn't. And it well benefits you they did, as it made me aware this vision may be somehow linked."

    "Linked…" said Harry.

    Trelawny sat up. "As in again pertaining to you and yours, Mr. Potter."

    Harry sighed a bit sceptically but thought to himself that it might well serve them to hear it anyhow. "All right, we’re listening."

    Trelawny tensed theatrically, as if she were mentally preparing herself for recalling something extremely momentous and then spoke. "Well, 'vision' might be an inappropriate word for what I had, I suppose. I did see things, but they were only shapes; a triangle, a circle; though the circle was quartered, each part having been separated from the others, but clearly belonging to the whole. The rest was more a prophecy, of sorts, but one that I saw written in my head, as if the words were etched behind my eyelids. I could read them very clearly."

    Harry and Ron nodded for her to continue, however still quite dubiously.

    "It was quite foreboding," said Trelawny dreamily. "The words felt extremely urgent. I'll recall it as best I can, though I doubt I've forgotten any of it as I don't often receive 'messages' of this nature. Let me see…

    'The strongest link shall lead the fight, from dawn of day to dark of night.

    The second link, his closest friend, from start to finish shall defend.

    The third link; the stablest one, shall heal until the fight is done.

    Should the equal fail the fight, darkness shall fall and veil the light;

    lest one whose worth is not yet known, should yield his life for his own.

    Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one.

    For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain.

    All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand.' "

    When she was done, Harry and Ron, both with gazes that revealed they weren't sure of anything anymore sat facing the Divination teacher with nothing to say. And for the first time they could remember, Trelawny dropped all signs of pretence.

    She stared at the two for a time before speaking in the most sincere voice they'd ever heard her use.

    "I know what you two think of my class. I know you think I'm a right old fraud…"

    Harry swallowed. "Well…you see it's not…"

"At times, I've wondered it myself to be quite frank," she continued bluntly.

• • Ron glanced at Harry as if he needed reassurance he'd really just heard what he had. The look on Harry's face gave him no doubts.

    "However, if I've ever been sure of anything in my whole life and career, I'm sure of this one thing…It was real what I experienced last night. Call it a dream or a vision, whatever you must… but dark times are ahead, darker than ever before…I feel it in my bones." She gave the two boys her most piercing gaze, but they would've felt the rightness of her words even without it. She continued gravely.

    "For some reason, you three are directly involved. Mr. Potter, we've known of you ever since the night You-Know-Who gave you that scar, but as for Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, I think it safe to say that none of you met by chance."

    Once again the two sat still, staring numbly at her until Harry finally spoke up quietly. "I think we agree on something, for once."

    A few minutes later and Trelawny was left by herself in her warm pastel classroom, the only sounds coming from the pinkish flames crackling in the hearth. Yet she still hadn't moved from her place behind her desk. She felt useless for once, purposeless; surrounded by futile trinkets and crystals and portents that suddenly mattered not at all. Her gaze bored an uneasy hole into the desk before she spoke quietly to no one at all.

    "It begins soon."

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24. Chapter 24: Oblivious Sirius

• • Chapter 24: "Oblivious Sirius"

    Harry left Ron outside the Gryffindor common room and quickly headed towards Lupin's classroom to catch his final class of the day. He'd called a Quidditch practice for before dinner owing to the upcoming match with Ravenclaw, and since what had just happened with Trelawny had left him feeling tired not only in body but in spirit as well, he regretted it. But the match was Saturday, and since it was Thursday, they really needed the practice.

    He reached the classroom slightly out of breath and saw Lupin already waiting for him with the room readied and sword in hand. Harry dropped his arms dully.

    "Sorry. Got tied up with Trelawny after class."

    Lupin tossed him Godric Gryffindor's sword and Harry caught it easily by the hilt, immediately comfortable with its familiar weight in his hand.

    "No worries," replied James easily. "She told me she'd be needing you and Ron during our first class, but I am glad you've made it for this one. Ready?"

    Harry ran a hand wearily down his face and back up through his hair, shaking his head slightly to try rattling all distracting, oppressive thoughts from his head. He hefted the sword up and fixed Lupin with his best centralised stare.

    "All right."

    Lupin stared at him for a moment. "Want to try attacking or defending first?"

    Harry thought for a moment. "Think I'll attack; get rid of some nervous energy."

    "And frustration, perhaps?" said Lupin perceptively, fixing him with a gaze.

    Harry sighed. Apparently there would be no fooling anyone today. "Something like that."

    Lupin readied himself and took his familiar stance. "Want to talk about it later? Might help."

    Harry chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Need to talk on it with Hermione first…but later if you're free, say eight…"

    "I'm free," said Lupin as quickly as he could without sounding too excited. "Make it nine though? Full moon out tonight. Snape's been busy since yesterday brewing me a wolfsbane potion."

    Harry's lips curled ironically on one side. "That might explain his particularly shitty mood today."

    James laughed heartily. "Yes he does love helping me out of a good jam, doesn't he? So Potions went swimmingly, I gather?" He ended sarcastically.

    "He's been right pissed off all day," said Harry a little too cheerfully. "Even took twenty points from his own house. Malfoy went spare."

    Lupin barked out a laugh, and Harry dropped his sword down, joining him. He then realised abruptly that this was the first time he and his father had laughed together. Funny the things you notice when you never had them to take for granted. He wouldn't know it, but Lupin had noticed too.

    They sobered quickly; business to attend to. An hour passed, and the class ended with James flat on his back, his sword in Harry's other hand, and Harry standing over him with the tip of his own blade pressed near his jugular. Nearing the end, their swords a blur of activity with the clashing and clanging of blade against blade, Harry had given James sword a powerful upward arc, wrenching it suddenly from his grasp. In mid-air, Harry had summoned it wandless to his own hand, and had knocked Lupin to the floor.

    Lupin, red in the face from exertion and with sweat gleaming on his face and arms, beamed up at his son.

    "Brilliant Harry."

    Harry, sweating and breathing just as hard, his cheeks blotched with red and his hair wildly in disarray, lifted the tip from his fathers neck and moved backward a bit. In his left hand, he flipped James sword up to catch it by the blade and handed it back to him, hilt first.

    James took it and the hand Harry offered him, pulling himself up with a grunt. "Either I'm getting rather old and feeble or you're getting really good."

    "Let's hope it's the latter," began Harry without really thinking, pulling up the bottom of his button down shirt to swipe his face with it, "We'll need you when all this comes to…a head…" he trailed off, realising he'd just voiced some of his own fears.

    Lupin swiped at his own brow and brought his arm down slowly, gazing at his son. He paused for a moment. "Yes. We will, won't we…"

    Harry stood awkwardly for a moment before glancing up at the clock above Lupin. "Oi…I'd better get going. Got to head to the pitch for practice and then shower and meet Hermione for dinner…" he trailed off once again.

    Lupin spoke quietly. "It's not easy..is it son?"

    Harry stood stock still for a moment. "No it's not. I'll be to your room at nine."

    Lupin nodded and watched Harry walk out, thinking to himself that Harry was living proof of the old adage "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger".

    ************************************************************

    Quidditch practice went swiftly enough, and Harry left the pitch, dirty and even sweatier than before, along with Ron; both feeling great about Gryffindor's chances against Ravenclaw.

    As they walked at dusk back towards the castle, Quidditch robes billowing behind them in the chilly breeze, brooms thrown carelessly over their shoulders, and boots crunching through a new layer of snow, they discussed Trelawny's latest prediction.

    "Well the three links are obvious," said Ron, watching his breath meet the cold and swirl out misty white. "Damn spooky the way she called out the three of us. It's not as if she's seen what's been going on with your bit of wandless magic, or my defensive spells or 'Mione's bizarre healing…"

    Harry nodded his agreement. "Just some parts of her prediction I'm stumped on… Like the part 'lest one who's worth is not yet known gives his life for his own'. What in the hell does that mean? How can one give his life for his own life? And his worth not yet known? To who? Makes no sense."

    "Dunno." Ron shook his head darkly as if trying to figure it out on his own.

    "Don't strain yourself," said Harry snidely.

    Ron growled and pulled a punch to Harry's ribs. But neither had the desire to laugh at that particular moment.

    Harry sighed as he wrenched one of the huge double-doors to the castle open allowing he and Ron to step inside. "Well, once again we head toward our 'stablest link' for answers."

    "I hope she has some to give," Ron smirked half-heartedly. "See you in the Hall."

    ****************************************************

    Harry headed toward his and Hermione's quarters and entered to find her curled on the common room couch asleep; her hand still barely curled around a half-opened book threatening to drop to the floor at any moment.

    Harry smiled and shook his head, leaning his Flametorch broom against a wall. "That's my girl."

    He squatted beside the couch, content for the moment to watch the shadows from the fire dance across her face. He eased the book from her grasp and closed it, laying it on the floor before brushing a hand across her cheek.

    " 'Mione… Wake up sleeping beauty…"

    Hermione stirred and opened blurry eyes to see Harry's face before her. Without speaking a word, the first thing she did was curl a hand round his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When they parted, she blinked and took a good look at him. He was dressed in his full game uniform, scarlet robe, elbow and knee guards as well, his hair stood in twenty different directions, he'd shoved his glasses up onto his head, and dirt mingled with sweat smudged his face. He looked wonderful.

    "You smell like sweat…and grass."

    "Took a few tumbles catching the snitch," Harry grinned and stood, offering her his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure I don't half stink. Left class with dad sweating and sweated even more at practice."

    Hermione's jaw dropped as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

    "Harry!"

    Harry frowned. "What? I'm going straight away to shower, I promise…"

    "No!" said Hermione smiling. "You…you just said…you just called Professor Lupin your dad."

    Harry looked down for a moment and mentally ran through his last two sentences. When he hit on it he looked a bit shocked as well, and scratched at his head with a bit of embarrassment.

    "Er…I..guess I did, didn't I?"

    Hermione sniffed to try keeping back tears. "You did."

    He stared at the floor for a few moments more, unsure what to say. It didn't mean anything…did it? Except maybe I'm getting more used to the idea…or more used to him… Bloody hell, there's too much else to think on at the moment…

    "Well, I'll head to the shower and then we'll meet Ron in the Hall for dinner. We've got loads to tell you," said Harry, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. As he headed towards the bathroom, he threw his cloak over the back of the couch, tore off his boots, tossed his elbow and knee pads to the floor and ripped off his shirt, leaving him clad only in the tight corduroy trousers; his broad back gleaming with sweat. Hermione gawped at him.

    "T..tell me?" she managed to choke out. In those pants his arse seemed to be a wonder unto itself. She cocked her head and watched it enter the bathroom. "All right…What about?"

    "Trelawny's class today," said Harry, his voice echoing from the bathroom. "She said…well, she's had another premonition, of sorts." He shut the door.

    Hermione's jaw dropped and she ran to the door, knocking rapidly. "Harry, she what!? Come out! You can't just tell me something like that and leave off!"

    She heard Harry turn on the shower. " 'Mione, you, Ron and I will talk on it at dinner. We need to discuss it together."

    "But Ron has class with you; he knows already! Let me in there so you can fill me in…"

    Harry paused for a moment and then answered brazenly. "Don't tempt me."

    Harry's arse…sans pants… Hermione did her best to sound indignant. "I meant we could talk with you behind the curtain, you prat."

    Harry laughed at her. "I'll be out soon, love."

    Hermione huffed in annoyance and walked away to sit rather heavily on the couch, playing mental games with herself to try thinking of anything but Harry's wet body at the moment.

    After a brief shower, Harry and Hermione headed toward the crowded noisy Great Hall and found Ron sitting in their usual spot near the front. They took seats opposite him and Harry began filling his plate until Hermione put a restraining hand on both their arms. Ron reluctantly lowered his forkful of bacon and pease pudding.

    "All right, I want information. Now."

    "Mione, I'm flippin' starved here," grumbled Ron around his first mouthful. "I need nourishment."

    "Talk while you eat…" said Hermione annoyed. "For once, I’m asking you to."

    Harry glanced up to see Lavender headed their way and sighed. "Ron, I know Lav's your girl, but we really need to talk the three of us alone, tonight."

    "No worries," said Ron with a grimace. "I'm sure she won't be sitting with me."

    Sure enough, when Lavender got nearer them, she turned up her nose at Ron without giving him a second glance and continued past them to sit beside Parvarti.

    Harry glanced down the table at her and then turned back to cock an eyebrow at Ron. "Trouble in paradise, Ronniekins?"

    Hermione jabbed him disapprovingly with her elbow.

    Ron scowled at him but then returned to looking slightly dejected. "She's upset with me that I laughed at Seamus in class today. Thinks it's an indication what 'sort of man I am'."

    Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly. "Man, is it?"

    Ron scowled once again. "Her words Hermione, not mine. And yes… I'm of age now, aren't I?"

    "I suppose so." Hermione glanced down and suppressed a small smile.

    "Anyhow, it'll be a while before we're speaking again, I think; at least until Parvarti stops trying to jinx Seamus. So we've all the privacy we need."

    "Good," said Hermione rather sternly. "Then let's get started, shall we? Before I start jinxing you two."

    Harry held up a hand. "All right, all right. After Divination today, Trelawny called Ron and I back into the classroom for a while. Said she had something to discuss with us."

    "Professor Lupin did say you and Ron had been excused from Advanced DADA today," said Hermione rather breathlessly. "Go on."

    Harry took a quick bite of his food and continued. "Told us of another vision she'd had. While she slept last night she saw a bunch of words and some shapes."

    Ron nodded and Hermione practically bounced in her seat for more information. "What sort of shapes?"

    "Tr'angw…cucwe quuhted," said Ron around the huge mouthful of pudding he'd just stuffed in. "S'm fing w'v sheen…"

    Hermione screwed up her face in disgust at him. "Ugh, Ron. Try again."

    Ron swallowed with effort. "Sorry…she saw a triangle and a quartered circle. Same as us."

    Hermione bit her lip and took a small bite of food as an afterthought. "Hmm, interesting. And the premonition?"

    "Oi, look!" Ron brightened proudly, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his pants. "Took your advice and wrote it down before we forgot!"

    He pulled out a small piece of parchment and read the whole of it to her.

    Hermione listened intently with her mouth slightly open until he was through and then snatched the parchment from him.

    "Well…" she breathed, her eyes carefully scanning the words. "She really does divine at times, it seems."

    Harry nodded. "That's how we thought. Still, there're a few things we're shaky on; like quite a bit of the last part. The 'one whose worth is not yet known gives his life for his own' completely stumps me…And what the circle represents, I'm not sure."

    Hermione thought for a moment and lowered her fork, most of her food completely untouched. "I have a suspicion…but before I'm certain I'll need to research something…"

    She began to stand.

    Harry lowered his fork as well. " 'Mione, we can at least finish eating…"

    "You and Ron go ahead," said Hermione, once again lapsing into one-track-mindedness. "I want to look this up while it's fresh in my mind…You can meet me at our common room later."

    Harry sighed and shook his head. "All right."

    He watched her go, and a few moments later, Lavender finished as well and sauntered toward he and Ron, flipping her blonde hair haughtily.

    "Well…so you two've managed to drive away another woman, have you? What sort of piggish things have you found to laugh at now?"

    Harry gawped at her in amusement and Ron threw his head back with a groan. "Oh for the love of Merlin, Lav. Let it go, will you?"

    Lavender instantly scowled. "I will not, Ronald Weasley! It's horrible how you, Dean, and you for that matter," she narrowed her eyes at Harry, "started the whole class laughing at poor Parvarti! She thought Seamus really fancied her…"

    Ron stared at her. "He does! He just fancies a few others as well!"

    Lavender suddenly looked incensed. "What!? So you reckon this is all right, do you!?"

    "Of course!" answered Ron incredulously. Harry groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes for a moment. Ron…stop now…just stop now…

    "Better he play the field for a while and find the right one than settle just yet! What if he finds someone more suitable!? It wouldn't be fair to Parvarti either!"

    "And the bracelet?" seethed Lavender.

    Ron looked as if he'd completely lost the plot. "Don't you like jewellery?"

    Lavender stood rigidly for a moment, completely dumbfounded at Ron's idiocy and then hissed quietly. "Ronald Weasley…you great, dumb clot…I don't know what I ever saw in you!"

    She stomped away angrily, leaving half the Gryffindor table, who'd been watching with great amusement, snickering as she left. Dean howled out loud. Only Parvarti seemed unamused. Ron glanced round at them all with a completely gobsmacked look on his face.

    "Gods Ron…" Harry closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

    Ron jaw hung open. "What'd I do!?"

    Harry groaned.

    "WHAT!?"

    (A/N: Bama loves Clueless!Ron. ;0)

    ******************************************************

    Harry and Ron finished their dinner in an awkward silence. It didn't help that half of Gryffindor table were still snickering and covertly discussing Ron's situation with Lavender. Harry spent the better part of the way back to his and Hermione's dorms trying to pound common sense into Ron's thick skull.

    "…so since Seamus had given it to every other girl he'd wanted to make it with, it wasn't a gift at all, you see?" said Harry, putting a different perspective on a situation he'd already tried to explain to Ron more than three times so far.

    "But he gave her jewellery mate," said Ron blatantly as if Harry was somewhat naive. "I mean he wouldn't have given her anything at all if she weren't something to him, right?"

    They'd reached the portrait door, and Harry found himself wishing Sir Cadogen would ride up and hack him to death with his tiny sword. How in Merlin's name was Ron so utterly clueless?

    Harry sighed deeply. "Ron…let's let Hermione try and explain it to you, all right? Dragon's lair." The portrait opened automatically owing to the absence of the tiny knight.

    Ron followed him in muttering under his breath. "…nothing to bloody explain…got a good grasp on things, I think…"

    Harry rolled his eyes, and at that moment, Hermione walked out from her room with her nose in a book, muttering to herself in much the same way. She nearly bumped headlong into Harry before she realised the two of them had entered. He caught her by the arms before she nose-dived into the floor. She looked suddenly flustered.

    "Oh! You're back then, are you?"

    Harry began to respond snarkily to her but she cut him off before he could. "Good. I've got loads to share with you two."

    She and Harry took a seat next to Ron, who continued to look sulky at Harry's insinuation he needed help with members of the opposite sex. If she noticed anything untoward, Hermione ignored it magnificently.

    "All right. So I went to Professor Dumbledore's office right on leaving here," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

    Harry started at her. "Dumbledore's office? 'Mione, you didn't go to share anything with him, did you?"

    This snapped her attention back to him. "If you'll remember Harry, Professor Dumbledore gave us his password to come talk to him anytime we wanted. We are Head boy and girl, after all. Personally I don't understand why you don't want to talk to him about any of this. He cares about you so much."

    "Exactly why," said Harry with a sigh. Seeing Hermione's look, he finished quickly. "Not that I don't appreciate it mind you, it's just that I want to make decisions on my own if I can. I'm bloody seventeen Hermione. I don't need Dumbledore deciding to take any matters on my life into his own hands."

    Ron finally spoke up. "And you don't think your dad is filling him in on everything you tell him…"

    Harry shrugged. "Maybe so. But at least he's noticed it's not me doing it. If I need his help or advice, I'll ask for it. I think he knows that."

    Hermione smiled. "Well if I know Professor Dumbledore at all, he's right glad your talking to your father about things. He'd much rather it be Lupin you're confiding in than himself, I'm sure."

    Harry stiffened just a bit. The subject of him coming to his father for advice usually made him bristle, though he wasn't quite sure what it was about it that made him feel so. The only thing he could deduce was that he'd always had to take care of himself, and he couldn't imagine delegating that task to a man that had been absent his whole life, however out of the ordinary the circumstances were. True, he had shared some things with James, but to be truthful to himself, he would've felt more comfortable sharing them with Sirius. If it weren't for the bloody ministry watching every floo network like hawks, even the ones at Hogwarts, he would've done by now. But there was no way he was going to risk Sirius getting caught.

    Hermione noticed his change in demeanour immediately. "Oh Harry, I’m sorry… I know how difficult it's been for you to share things with him. I didn't mean to…"

    Harry put a hand to her face. "No, it's all right. No worries."

    A short silence filled the room before Ron broke the awkwardness. "So what'd Dumbledore have to say?"

    Hermione seized on the change of subject, and sensed Harry was grateful for it as well. "I didn't exactly go there to see him. He wasn't there anyway. I went to speak to the sorting hat."

    Ron sat up quickly. "The sorting hat? As in have a conversation with it?"

    Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes Ron. It can talk if you'll recall."

    "Yeah but I didn't know it could actually carry on a discussion with you!" said Ron dumbfounded. "I thought all it was good for was sorting and coming up with a new song every year."

    Hermione sighed deeply as if once again she found a friendship with two boys to be very taxing. "Once again Ron, I'd like to stress that if you'd ONLY READ Hogwarts: A History, you would never have to ask me such ridiculous questions again…"

    "All right!" said Ron exasperated, holding up a hand. "Nevermind…it's not worth it! Just go on."

    Harry grinned covertly at the two of them as she continued. "Well…what Trelawny said, about the quartered circle… I had an idea what it could mean but I wasn't certain until I asked the sorting hat to sing for me again the song it did in our fifth year."

    "You actually remember that song?" asked Harry, impressed.

    "I remembered it enough that it seemed to apply to this," said Hermione, holding up the scrap of parchment with Trelawny's prediction written in Ron's untidy, loopy scrawl. "However, I couldn't remember it entirely. I had the hat sing it for me again. Once it was through and I told it the part about the circle, it seemed to agree with me."

    "It agreed with you!?" asked Ron incredulously. "As if the bloody thing's alive?"

    Hermione sighed in aggravation. "Merlin Ron, what'd I just say…"

    Harry groaned despite himself. "For the love of Quidditch just go on. Ron shut it, will you?"

    Ron shot him a filthy look but allowed Hermione to continue.

    "So the prediction states: 'Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one. For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain. All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand'." Quoted Hermione.

    "Now, what can we think of that's been divided into fourths? Something that has sometimes brought about strife because of it?"

    Harry and Ron thought for a few moments before Harry finally spoke.

    "The only thing I can think that might pertain is the four houses in Hogwarts. We know in the beginning the four houses got along fine…and then some conflicts came about because of the division."

    "Too right!" exclaimed Hermione breathlessly. "Which is why I wanted the sorting hat to sing over its song from fifth year. I did a recollection spell so we could hear it in its entirety again but I think I'll just forward to the relevant parts."

    Ron seemed relieved and let out a sigh he hadn't meant Hermione to hear. She fixed him with an exasperated glare before deciding to ignore him. Holding her wand upright and turning it counter-clockwise twice, she then flicked the wand toward the wall above the mantle of the fireplace.

    "Resonomelos Sorting Hat, fifth year!"

    The bit of wall above the fireplace suddenly gave off a gentle purple radiance before words began etching themselves out in an ancient scrawl. An echoing melody began to filter through the dim room, and Harry and Ron leaned forward on their knees staring intently at the wall, at once recognising the old scratchy voice of the sorting hat. It hadn't come up with a new song since fifth year.

    "In times of old when I was new and Hogwarts barely started

    The founders of our noble school thought never to be parted.

    United by a common goal they had the selfsame yearning,

    To make the world's best magic school and pass along their learning…"

    "All right, I'll forward to the parts we need especially to hear," said Hermione, raising her wand once more. She began this time to twirl it clock-wise, and the song sped up almost comically, the words a blur as they appeared astonishingly fast on the wall, and the voice becoming at once high-pitched and very fast paced. But while Harry and Ron might've normally found this funny, there was no humour in it for them this night, only a desire to pay close attention. The song began explaining to them certain parts of Trelawny's prophecy they had previously been unsure about.

    Hermione lowered her wand and the song slowed to normal pace once more.

    "…So how could it have gone so wrong?

    How could such friendships fail?

    Why, I was there and so can tell

    The whole sad, sorry tale.

    Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

    Whose ancestry is purest."

    Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

    Intelligence is surest."

    Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

    With brave deeds to their name."

    Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

    And treat them just the same."

    For each house's name said, Harry held up one finger. Hermione paused the song as he turned to her and Ron holding up four.

    "Hogwarts divided into four houses. A circle, separated into four parts. And what represents wholeness more than a circle? There's no angles to ford off sharply like with a square or rectangle. What other shape describes unity as well as it?"

    Both Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione forwarded the song a bit again, slowing it until it came to another desirable part.

    "…So Hogwarts worked in harmony

    For several happy years,

    But then discord crept among us

    Feeding on our faults and fears.

    The Houses that, like pillars four,

    Had once held up our school,

    Now turned upon each other and,

    Divided, sought to rule.

    And for a while it seemed the school

    Must meet an early end,

    What with duelling and with fighting

    And the clash of friend on friend

    And at last there came a morning

    When Slytherin departed

    And though the fighting then died out

    He left us quite downhearted.

    And never since the founders four

    Were whittled down to three

    Have the Houses been united

    As they once were meant to be…"

    "Notice," said Hermione as she paused the song once again, "When Slytherin left the fighting died off. Maybe Salazar was the one making certain the school stayed in discord and divided."

    "It seems he did his job well too," said Harry thoughtfully. "Even after he left, the damage had been done, hadn't it? The school never reunited as it was meant to, did it?"

    Ron gave a low whistle of surprise. "I never knew the sorting hat would be so important…"

    Hermione chose to leave the comment alone and continue the song where it left off.

    "And now the Sorting Hat is here

    And you all know the score:

    I sort you into Houses

    Because that is what I'm for,

    But this year I'll go further,

    Listen closely to my song:

    Though condemned I am to split you

    Still I worry that it's wrong,

    Though I must fulfill my duty

    And must quarter every year

    Still I wonder whether sorting

    May not bring the end I fear.

    Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

    The warning history shows,

    For our Hogwarts is in danger

    From external, deadly foes

    And we must unite inside her

    Or we'll crumble from within

    I have told you, I have warned you....

    Let the Sorting now begin."

    "Know the perils, read the signs; the warning history shows. For our Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes," repeated Ron with wide eyes as the song ended. The direness of it all was beginning to hit him full force. Hermione 'scourgified' the song from the wall, and the room was plunged into silence and the dim orange glow from the fireplace once more.

    "Voldemort could be the prediction's 'bane'," Ron spoke into the new silence of the room. "He always did want to purge the school, didn't he? He started to with Moaning Myrtle. That certainly could be a warning from history, couldn't it?"

    "He especially wanted it 'cleansed' when it came to his own house," added Hermione quietly.

    Ron suddenly sat bolt upright, his face draining of colour. "The purge of lines…Harry, now he knows you're a Slytherin too, there's nothing more he wants than to get rid of you and the other offshoot of Slytherins' line you represent. The one that should have never been, right mate?"

    Harry looked stunned for a moment. "I never thought of it that way before, but if he got rid of me, the last heir of Aberdeen's affair, or the last he knows of, his 'line would be purged', wouldn't it? And…"

    Hermione spoke up in almost a whisper. "The innocent slain…Voldemort also wants only pure-blooded wizards involved in our world. In fact, he only wants pure-bloods, I believe. The first thing he'd do when able was to rid the world of Muggles and half-bloods." She clasped her hands very tightly in her lap and shuddered despite herself.

    Harry saw her gazing down in fear and took one of her hands, while his other came up to clasp her chin and force her eyes to his. His determined gaze burned into hers, and his eyes held a cold, deadly resolve. "He's never going to touch you, you hear me Hermione? I won't let him near you. I'll kill him first."

    Something began to happen, something that had never happened before. Harry's whole body began to glow in much the same way Hermione's hand had when healing Malfoy's injuries. He seemed unaware at the moment it was happening, but his eyes burned with an almost neon green fire, and the whole of his body began emanating a luminescent sapphire blue. It shimmered and wavered around him like an enormous halo and burned brighter and brighter the longer his gaze locked with hers. Hermione felt a fluttering in her chest so concentrated that it was almost painful. She'd only once before seen that look on his face, one that might send even the fiercest of enemies scurrying for shelter. It was when he'd faced Voldemort in the Kavan Forest last year. But there hadn't been the eerie bright blue glow, and the palpable, metallic taste and smell that seemed to be hovering about him. Even without ever experiencing anything like it before, Hermione was sure of what it was. It was power. Great, unharnessed, pulsing, throbbing power, like a rogue lightning bolt from an electrical storm. She could almost feel the hairs on her body standing. Harry's gaze burned with a fire that almost scared her breathless.

    "H..Harry," was all she could sputter out.

    Ron for his part seemed frozen in place. He was staring at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "Mate…are you all right?"

    The two voices seemed to bring Harry down, and the aura around him suddenly dissipated with an audible SNAP.

    Harry lowered his brows at Ron and released Hermione's hand. "What? Why'd you ask? 'Course I am. I'm just not going to let Voldemort get to Hermione; or you mate…No matter what…whatever it takes…"

    He'd finished the latter part of his sentence as if speaking only to himself, and Hermione suddenly felt a sharp bolt of fear stab at her chest. It would be just like Harry to recklessly sacrifice himself if he thought it would save her or Ron…

    "What'd you mean by that!?" Her voice came out like a breath, and she instinctively gripped at his sleeve. "What'd you mean 'whatever it takes'!?" A pulsing panic began to tighten the walls of her chest and she felt the sudden urge to grab onto Harry like a vice and never let him go.

    Even Ron seemed to have balked at Harry's last statement and spoke up roughly. "Don't say things like that mate. We're all in this together remember? Have done since the beginning. Don't you ever forget that."

    Harry immediately lightened and shook his head. "I wasn't…I didn't mean to scare you two. I just…if he ever…ever tried to… Let's just concentrate on Trelawny's prediction, all right? One thing at a time."

    Ron nodded, at once settling to the task at hand with Harry following, but Hermione merely watched the two talk for a moment, her focus solely on Harry. For some reason the sense of foreboding would not go away. If Harry had a fault that stuck out in her mind, it was that he was reckless when it came to his friends. And now more than ever, the threat that he might somehow be forced, in his own mind, to take certain burdens on himself to spare others, loomed before her like terror made physical and solid, a fear she could almost reach out and grab hold of. If she somehow lost him, Hermione was certain she would somehow live on, though hollow and empty. But the question had never been that. The question had been, if Harry was lost to her, would life be worth the living?

    Her eyes traced his face, somehow boyish and manly all at the same time. His dark messy hair waved all over his head, and the absurdly long lashes were tipped with gold from the fire glow. She watched the dimple mar his left cheek as he smirked at something Ron said, watched his form as he leaned forward on his knees and snuck a glance at her, seeing her and waiting for a reassuring glance back. She gave him one, but though he saw it, he couldn't see the heartbreak that lay within. Voldemort's threat had somehow become more real for her in the span of only a few moments.

    Oh Harry, could I live on if you didn't? Her body would remain, of that she was certain; but her heart and soul would forever be clutched in his hand.

    Harry turned to smile grimly at her, and a physical pain stabbed her chest.

    "Hermione? Come join us, will you? We need you on this too…"

    As she moved over closer to them both, Hermione realised that the subject had changed to Parvarti and the bracelet. Thank Merlin for Ron, she thought with a small smile. Sometimes he brought about a much needed lightness and humour. But as she concentrated on helping him understand the female mind, (although she rather thought it was common sense) she was also supremely aware that a new heavier fear had saddled her heart.

    ***************************************************

    Nine o'clock came round more suddenly than Harry had expected, and he, Hermione and Ron, after Hermione's overly simplified explanation of the bracelet fiasco, had still failed to figure out a few parts of the prophecy. But, he figured, there were some things one wouldn't figure out until they came to pass, weren't there?

    He and Ron left Hermione still doggedly poring over books of prophecy in an attempt to find out more, and when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry left Ron as well, with Ron fervently promising that he now understood why Parvarti felt the way she did, and that he was going to make things right with Lavender straight away.

    "That is if I don't screw it up by making another dumb-arse comment," said Ron frustratedly. "I just never know when one's coming."

    Harry knew he'd meant he never knew when something he said was inappropriate, but he laughed at Ron's wording all the same, until Ron punched him hard in the arm. They tussled good-naturedly outside the common room for a few moments before he swore at himself for the time and ran to make it to Lupin's private quarters, leaving Ron with a matching bruise on his arm.

    As he sauntered along with hands jammed into the pockets of his robes, Harry mused about the fact that he was still nervous, after four months or so of knowing James, to have one-on-one conversations with him. He hated the awkwardness of always being hyper-aware of every word his father said; looking for clues that weren't necessarily there, or hidden agenda's in his father's advice. He supposed it would be hard for him to ever fully trust him, and yet, here he was headed toward his room to talk things over with him. How he wished he could talk with Sirius as well…

    Once there, Harry rapped lightly on the door. He heard a muffled 'come in' and entered the room, closing the door lightly behind him.

    James was seated somewhat rigidly near the fireplace in his small room, with an extra plush chair next to him, obviously for Harry. His father smiled and motioned for Harry to join him, but before he did, Harry took a few moments to survey James' living quarters.

    It was basically one large room, with half-partition walls separating the bathroom from small kitchen, to living area, to small bedroom. The living area consisted only of two plush golden coloured chairs, large shag-like deep red carpeting thrown over the stone floor, a couple of bookcases, and a polished wooden mantle over a large fireplace.

    As Harry made his way toward James, he noticed loads of pictures on the mantle. To his surprise, his parents had mapped out every bit of his short life with them. A picture of a red, wrinkled new-born with a shock of black hair, in the midst of a silent fit of screaming stood in the middle, titled: Harry James Potter, 31 July 1980. In another, Harry was seated in a high-chair with a face full of cake that he had obviously smeared up into his hair. Lily, with James arm round her, was in the background having a hearty laugh at him. There was a "1" candle lit on top of the rest of the cake, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how long after this happy event Voldemort had attacked. More pictures stared at him from worn frames. Harry swinging in between his grinning parents hands, obviously in some park. Harry perched atop his father's shoulders, grabbing onto the shock of dark hair so much like his own for dear life. Lily holding baby Harry and grinning into his face as Harry laughed back. James with little Harry perched in front of him on a Shooting Star (must've been a top model broom then), his father grinning wildly and ruffling Harry's hair much like he used to do his own. Pictures of James and Lily themselves graced the mantle as well. Dancing pictures where they looked so in love, pictures of them at school, wedding pictures. There were even pictures of James along with the rest of the Marauders, grinning and acting like idiots, and Harry felt his mind swirling with the thought that he must now, in his own mind, switch the face of the James in the picture with Lupin.

    Somehow, although Harry knew it shouldn't have, the sight of the pictures came as quite a shock to him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that it was just one more reminder of how unwanted he'd felt his whole life, and how wrong he'd been.

    Harry finally turned to look at his father, who had been silent the entire time, and saw the ghost of a sad tight smile on his face. As Harry sat, Lupin tried to change the mood a bit.

    "Well, it's not much compared to the Gryffindor common room, I'm sure," said Lupin with a small, nervous laugh. "But I assure you it's a palace compared to some of the other places I've lived."

    Harry nodded, still not quite trusting himself to speak just yet, but Lupin spoke first anyway.

    "Harry…I…thought…I thought it might well be time to invite someone else in on our conversations."

    Harry frowned. Lupin sounded as if he were dreading something, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't deduce what it was.

    "All right," he drawled out slowly, eyeing him. "Who?"

    Lupin spoke after a beat of hesitation. "Sirius."

    Harry instantly brightened and sat straight up. "You're wh…I mean really!? But what about the Ministry? Dumbledore's been pounding it in my head they're watching the floo networks here like hawks, especially now they know I've been in contact with him before…"

    Lupin felt a twinge of jealousy run through him at Harry's obvious excitement and raised a hand to stop him. Harry fell silent. "I've worked it out with Dumbledore. The Ministry was certainly not able to bug every single floo network here. There're hundreds of hearths in Hogwarts set to it, and mine happens to be one of them. This room was vacant for years before Dumbledore gave me use of it so they had no need of watching over it. He's conveniently forgotten to inform the Ministry it's now being occupied."

    Harry instantly felt a little more forgiving toward the Headmaster. "So have you been in contact with him this whole time!? Why haven't you let me know!? I've wanted to talk to him for ages…"

    "Actually Harry, I haven't," said Lupin quietly. "I…I haven't been in contact with Sirius for some months now…almost four, to be exact."

    Harry narrowed his eyes at his father until a look of stunned comprehension began to dawn on his face. "Don't tell me…don't you tell me Sirius doesn't know…"

    Lupin sat very straight in his chair, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's. "He doesn't."

    Harry felt as if he'd been punched. "How could he possibly not know!? You and he were best mates in school! If anyone would know the difference between Remus Lupin and James Potter it would be him!"

    "You're absolutely right," said James, nodding along with his son's words. "And if he had found out, Harry…If Sirius were suddenly to find out his best friend was still alive, how do you think he'd react?"

    Harry's reply was instant. "He'd have come after you! He'd have wanted to be with you, help you find Peter Pettigrew, fight your fights, help you with me… with.. Voldemort…" he trailed off, and understood.

    "Yes…he would have," answered James slowly. "And that's why, every time he found out and confronted me with it, how much I spoke like James, how much my mannerisms copied James, I had to make him forget. For his own good I had to make him forget, to keep him out of sight and away from the Ministry's bloody watchful eyes."

    Harry's mouth dropped open. "You obliviated him."

    Lupin nodded sadly. "It's been lonely without him. I can't tell you how many times I was tempted just to let him be. To let him find out I was still alive…but I couldn't put him in that type of danger. Knowing Padfoot, he never would've left my side after that. I couldn't do that to him…or to you. I wanted nothing to tip off the fact I was..am your father."

    And the very next question that popped into Harry's thoughts was one he knew, even in the utter chaos and confusion of finding out who Lupin really was, he should've thought to ask long, long ago. Immediately Harry felt every muscle in his body knot with tension. If James had been alive this whole time…

    "And what about the twelve years Sirius spent in Azkaban," Harry seethed dangerously, now perching as if ready to spring from his seat. "You've known all along it wasn't him that killed those Muggles that day in the street. That Peter Pettigrew survived that attack; that he did it himself…"

    "Wait Harry, let me explain," said James immediately.

    Harry's breathing was very shallow and he seemed on the point of violence, but he sat himself back in the chair, his piercing gaze never leaving his father's. "All right, I’m listening."

    Lupin closed his eyes for a moment, painful memories resurfacing to tug painfully inside his chest. He swallowed down the lump that had risen so suddenly and began to tell the story.

    "After Lily and Remus were killed and you were taken to the Dursley's, I immediately went into hiding in the Muggle world for a while. Dumbledore was my only source of news, so suffice it to say, I didn't get much that often as neither of us wanted the neighbours getting suspicious, or Voldemort and his followers for that matter. But Dumbledore did deem it important information for me to know the day Sirius was framed for the murder of the twelve Muggles and supposedly Pettigrew. I met Hagrid in Diagon Alley the next day, and he took me straight to Hogwarts where Dumbledore and I argued for the better part of the next week over what to do. Of course, I wanted to testify on his behalf as Remus Lupin, but Albus informed me Fudge had already believed him guilty, and had sent him straight to Azkaban without a trial."

    "Sirius never got a trial?" asked Harry incredulously. "Why?"

    "Because even back then Lucius Malfoy had Fudge in his wealthy back pocket. And I believe Lucius was already on Voldemort's side. Having heard James Potter's infant son defeated the most 'powerful wizard in the world', I think nothing pleased Malfoy or Voldemort more than to see James' best friend headed to Azkaban for murder. And with the very wizard supposedly murdered helping Malfoy out with details…well."

    Harry took in the information and filed it away with what he already knew. "So Sirius went to Azkaban. Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get him out? He would've done for you if the situations were reversed. I know he would've."

    Lupin sighed downheartedly. "You and he've become quite close, haven't you?"

    Harry set his jaw and spoke in low tones. "He's the closest thing to a father I've had for a very long time. Yes, we have."

    Lupin felt the impact of his son's words like a blow to the chest, but steeled himself against it anyway. What else could he have expected? And if it couldn't be himself acting as Harry's father this whole time, there was no one else he would've picked over Sirius, was there?. Yet, it was still painful to see how Sirius had virtually replaced James in Harry's life.

    "You haven't answered my question," said Harry bluntly. "Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get Sirius released..."

    "We did Harry," said James quite sadly. He clawed a hand frustratedly through Lupin's straight brown hair. "We fought Fudge for twelve long years trying to get him out until we'd exhausted every witness and resource we had. If you'll remember, before Sirius broke out of Azkaban, there hadn't been a breakout for some odd fifty years. How do you think he was finally able to get free?"

    Harry hadn't considered this before, and he now thought rather stupidly of himself for it. Lupin answered the question for him.

    "Still have my old invisibility cloak?"

    Harry blinked hard and shot his gaze back to his fathers. "No…that doesn't make sense! Sirius didn't have the cloak then, I did. Still do."

    "You think that's the only one in existence?" said Lupin almost dully, as if the memory of the past was beginning to wear him down. "True they are rare. More rare than you could possibly imagine. The wards around Azkaban are so strong, there is absolutely no penetrating it from the outside. Dumbledore and I had one of his operatives hiding out close to there almost every week for years and years trying out some new spell or incantation to break in. Nothing ever worked. Until we found out Sirius was still lucid enough to receive and read the Prophet from his cell. I hadn't thought it possible that he still had that much of his mind about him, but he did. To this day, I still don't know how he managed it. In any case, that's when I began to realise that if we could somehow slip in something for him to use, he was possibly cognisant enough to break himself out. We planned for months, and finally devised the only way to get it in to him. We had one of Dumbledore's own people sent away."

    "To Azkaban?" asked a baffled Harry.

    "Yes," said Lupin. "Only we had a loyal Ministry official from the inside, not one of Fudge's own men escort him in. I would've done myself but Dumbledore thought it would look too suspicious, besides the fact I didn't need to be seen. Anyhow, he hid with him an invisibility cloak we'd nicked from the Department of Magical Artifacts. It took months of torment before Dumbledore's man and Sirius were able to escape; at which time during the waiting, Dumbledore hired me on here at Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Mainly because Hogwarts needed one and I was well versed in it having been in the Order of the Phoenix myself, but also to await Sirius' escape."

    Harry was dumbfounded. "I'm…this is a bit much to take in all at once…on top of everything else," he finished somewhat sourly.

    Lupin closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "I understand…Now you have to understand something. Sirius knows of everything I've just told you, down to the very last detail..except for one thing."

    Harry glanced up at him. "Who you really are."

    James nodded slowly, the weight of such a heavy burden for so many years etched permanently in the lines on his face. "And now that you know, it's time he knows too."

    "What about what you just said though?" asked Harry, leaning forward on his knees. "What about the fact he won't be able to keep himself from wanting to help us?"

    "I've thought that over a lot myself Harry," said James with a wry smile. "And here's the conclusion Dumbledore and I've come up with. The final war with Voldemort is approaching so fast we aren't even assured tomorrow. And when that day comes, I want Sirius standing with us; Ministry be damned. I know he'd want the same thing. Remus and Lily are dead because of that bastard Harry. And I know once the battle is over, new lines will be drawn and old lies will be brought to light. I believe he will be exonerated anyway. Especially if Dumbledore takes over Fudge's position. And he will, either way the battle falls. No wizard or witch in their right minds will want Fudge back in power when they find out how long he's been trying to deceive them."

    Harry nodded slowly. "So you think Dumbledore'll let him fight, do you?"

    Lupin set his mouth into a grim line. "I think once the war finally does start there'll be no way he can stop him. Whether or not Sirius ever found out I was really James, he'd still be involved in this war. After Sirius denounced the Blacks, Lily and I were all he had. Do you see? Voldemort took away part of his family, just the same as he took mine."

    Harry nodded his head heavily, the realisation that the lines in the sand were being drawn and the stage for war was being set weighing down so oppressively on his shoulders, that all he could think of was how much he wanted to get back to his and Hermione's common room and hide away with her again for the night. But he needed to see Sirius as well; needed to be there for him when he found out who Lupin really was; and needed to be there when he came apart. Because he would just as certainly as Harry had, he mused grimly. And as certainly as James was family, so was Sirius, almost more so. He just hoped when the revelation came Sirius would be able to withstand it.

    ********************************************************

A/N: I hope this clears some things up for you guys. I did my best on this, and tried to determine how the characters would react and feel in the situations I've put them in! Anyway, thanks sooooo much to all of you who review, you're all so awesome and really make me keep going! If not for your reviews, I would have probably stopped long ago because you make writing worth it; besides the actual thrill of writing my own storyline! (SQUEE!) Anyhoo, please continue to give me your thoughts, and I will certainly continue to write for you. Cheers! Bama.

25. Chapter 25: Reunion

• • Chapter 25: Reunion

    James Potter turned to his son, sitting beside him in front of the now extinguished fireplace and noted the grim, foreboding look on his face. Truth be told, he felt exactly the same way.

    "You ready then?" asked James quietly.

    Harry shifted rigidly in his seat; cold prickles of nervousness shooting down his spine. His eyes stayed glued to the floo. "Doesn't matter. He needs to know."

    James nodded in agreement and stood, stepping close to the hearth. He pulled up what Harry realised was a fake plant from a flowerpot near him and reached inside, grabbing a small palmful of what looked like lime-green ash. After replacing the false plant, he tossed the substance into the fire and watched as a wall of green flames suddenly whooshed up to lick the insides of the fireplace.

    "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

    As Lupin stuck his head in the flames and felt the familiar nauseating sensation of his head being screwed off like a top, he opened his eyes to finally find himself staring at the sparse unkempt living room of Sirius Black.

    Back on the other side, his eyes planted firmly on the lower torso of his father, Harry wrung his hands in nervousness.

    James took a few moments to let the vertigo pass, and then called out quietly. "Padfoot…"

    No answer. "Padfoot!" Lupin called, his eyes scanning the room as far as his vision could take him. "Sirius, are you there mate?"

    A rushed thumping sound came from somewhere toward his left, and Lupin finally saw Sirius Black rush round the fireplace and throw himself haphazardly on the carpet in front of the fire, his eyes at once scanning the face of his friend.

    "Remus! Where've you been!? It's been months since we last spoke, why haven't you…Hang on…is it Harry? What's happened…"

    Remus quickly shook his head and steeled himself, fighting down the small surge of jealousy that stung him at the paternal sound in his friend's voice. Sirius, though looking pale from all the months of being cooped up inside, looked no worse for the wear. His long, unkempt hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and a few days worth of stubble roughened his cheeks. He looked as if he'd been taking better care of himself. He'd filled out more, and the haunted look that had once been a permanent feature on his face seemed to be slowly disappearing. Inwardly, James felt a bit of relief wash over him. The last thing Sirius needed was to be in poor health for what was in store.

    "No, no. Calm yourself, Sirius. Harry's fine…In fact, he's here with me now."

    Sirius narrowed his brown eyes and moved to perch himself rigidly on the edge of his couch. "There with you…and where exactly might that be?"

    "Hogwarts."

    He started. "Hogwarts!? What in Merlin's name are you doing there? And for that matter, what're you doing flooing me from there unless something's happened!?"

    Just from watching the lower half of his father's body, Harry could see the nerves stiffening his spine. Lupin's torso shifted uncomfortably and for the life of him, Harry wished he could hear the conversation on the other side. Just hurry up for the love of god…get him over here…

    "Dumbledore's offered me the teaching position over the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class," replied Remus as he steadied his voice. "Along with extra classes for Harry in particular."

    "Advanced DADA?" said Sirius surprised. "That's a new one, I take it. And extra classes for what?"

    Lupin paused, feeling out his next words. "Well, I've…been schooling him in a bit of…a bit of fencing."

    Once again Sirius frowned in confusion, but an ironic smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. "Fencing aye? I'm surprised Dumbledore chose you as his teacher, no offence, mate. You never were that steady with the sword, were you? That was always James' strong suit. Took after his father, I reckon."

    Lupin paled. "Yes..er well…suffice it to say I’m glad I've gotten better at it. With what's been happening round here, Harry might very soon have need of it."

    At the last sentence, Sirius stood up so swiftly that the small coffee table in front of him almost toppled over. He reached behind him to grab his wand out from his back pocket. "With what's been happening!? What'd you mean!? Does this have to do with Harry!?

    "Harry…among others," said Lupin quietly after a small pause.

    "And why, might I ask, is this the first I've heard of it?" Sirius hissed angrily. "We bloody well did promise we'd keep the other informed if one of us got any news, didn't we!? Or was that some other two wizards I'm getting us confused with!?"

    "I'm here telling you now, aren't I?" said Lupin quickly.

    "And yet for some reason I get the feeling you've waited to get in contact with me. In fact, I get the distinct feeling you've been trying to avoid me for some months now," said Sirius with a hard, sardonic edge to his voice. "In case you've missed it Remus, I'm his bloody godfather, for shitsake! I more than anyone else am entitled to know what's going on with Harry!"

    "More than anyone else!?" James suddenly blurted out angrily through his teeth. "You're not even his fa…" But he stopped himself before what he had to divulge came out in a much different way than he'd intended.

    "I'm sorry, Padfoot. I'm sorry." James shook the brown hair from Remus' eyes frustratedly. "Look old friend, I've had a talk with Dumbledore. He's agreed so long as you stay in my room and don't leave it, you can come to visit Harry and I whenever you like. I really think now would be a good time. We…I mean I have things to discuss with you."

    Sirius glanced down to the floor angrily and leaned forward on his knees. "Brilliant. So he's agreed to allow me to transfer occasionally from one prison to another, is that it? How generous of him."

    "You're not wanting back into Azkaban, are you?" asked Remus harshly. "Because the way I see it until the Ministry clears you; if anyone other than Dumbledore, the Order, or Harry and his two friends sees you that's exactly where you're headed."

    Sirius eyed him angrily for a few moments but wisely decided not to answer, knowing full well the truthfulness of his friend's words. He finally stood. "And where am I headed now?"

    "You have floo powder?" asked Remus shortly.

    Sirius favoured him with a curt half-nod. "Ironically, yes I do."

    "Good. Room number one twenty one, Hogwarts. We'll see you in a few." And Remus Lupin's head disappeared from the floo.

    Harry leaned forward on his knees, nervously bouncing his leg up and down; his hands clasped white-knuckled before him. As his father finally, mercifully pulled his head back from the fire and stood upright swiping ash from his face, Harry immediately noticed the look of frustration. He quickly jumped to his feet.

    "Well?" said Harry anxiously.

    "He'll be here in a few moments," said Lupin as he moved his chair away from the hearth and motioned for Harry to do the same.

    As he did so and stood back, Harry's heartbeat began to pound out wave after wave of dread and he nervously clawed a hand through his hair. His eyes stayed glued on the hearth as they had been moments before. For some reason, he felt more nervous for Sirius than he had for himself the night he sat facing Dumbledore and Lupin, knowing they had kept some earth-shattering secret from him they were about to divulge. He guessed knowing how it had effected him made it almost unbearable for him to watch the same happen to Sirius. He felt though, that the impact for Sirius might somehow be even more intense than it had been for himself.

    Sirius had known Remus Lupin as long as he had known James Potter. Not only would he soon be shocked with the knowledge that his best friend was still alive, but he would also have to deal with the fact that for all these years, he hadn't been sharing a relationship with Remus Lupin at all. That in fact, his friend was dead, and had been for the past sixteen years.

    Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other and jammed his hands in the pockets of his robes; all thoughts of what he'd previously come to discuss with Lupin banished from his mind. Once again he fought the desire to run back to Hermione and seal their portrait door shut to the world. He immediately felt selfish, but it was hard to suppress the urge to return to where he felt safest and most normal. After sixteen years of never having a loving haven to retreat to, it was hard for Harry not to wish he was there most of the time. He sighed out loud, and Lupin glanced at him.

    "You don't have to be here for this Harry," he said quietly.

    Harry instantly had to push down the outraged response that leapt to his mind. No…he just doesn't understand, that's all…he doesn't understand… "Yes I do. I have to be here for Sirius. You can understand that, can't you?"

    "Yes I can…" Lupin gazed over at his son without resentment, but swallowed down the lump that seemed nowadays to reside permanently in his throat. "And I will, Harry. I'm proud of you son. No matter what, I'm proud of you."

    Harry blinked a few times, obviously surprised at the response he'd just gotten. Those simple words of acceptance from James over Harry and Sirius' relationship did more for Harry towards his father than anything else before combined. He only had the willpower at the moment to nod gratefully at him.

    A great whoosh sounded in the fireplace, and a gusty cloud of ash preceded Sirius Black as he landed unsteadily on his feet in the hearth and stepped out, his eyes immediately falling on his godson and Lupin. He cleaned the mess and himself with a flick of his wand.

    A genuine grin split his face, and it seemed to Harry as if it'd been a long time since he'd last seen that expression on him.

    "Harry," Sirius walked over to him and gave him a swift hug.. "It's good to see you."

    Harry felt himself grinning back despite the situation. "You too."

    Sirius nodded cordially to Lupin, missing the fact that for a moment, he'd looked away from the two.

    "Good to see you again," said Lupin, walking over to the two to shake his friend's hand.

    "You too Moony," replied Black, finally moving to seat himself at one of the three chairs surrounding the small dining table near the kitchen. As he sat, he took a brief moment to eye his friend's surroundings. "Not bad…not bad at all."

    Lupin nodded his agreement, and he and Harry took chairs at the table as well. Sirius eyed the two as they sat, making note of the fact that both men, the younger and the older, seemed a bit strained, at best. His suspicions began to rise even more.

    "Butterbeer?" asked Lupin as he made to rise from the table as soon as he'd sat.

    Sirius raised a hand and spoke up sternly. "No, thank you, Remus. But what I would like is an explanation. Being holed up in the old estate I don't get a lot of information but from what you've said it's obvious Voldemort's been showing himself again. Whatever's been going on here, I want a part of it. I'm entitled to it, I think."

    "No!" Harry barked out. He turned to him directly, instantly frightened at the thought that Sirius might do something to get himself caught. "There's nothing you or anyone else can do right now. We don't know where he is or what he's planning as of yet."

    Lupin watched Sirius eye them furtively, and decided to move ahead with the issue of Voldemort first. "I reckon you've heard about the Dementors defecting…"

    Sirius nodded. "Thankfully Dumbledore floo's me the Prophet daily; too risky with owls. He at least understands I need to keep up with the news. Of course my first thought was to contact you, but I didn't know where you'd gotten to, did I?"

    "There is a reason," said Lupin quietly, leaning forward to place his weight on his elbows. Harry shot him a look.

    "I'm listening," said Sirius with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

    "I've had something I've needed to tell you for a long time," said Lupin, glancing down as he clawed a hand through his hair. Upon seeing this, Sirius squinted closely at him, a feeling of familiarity ticking in his mind. Without really thinking about it, his gaze turned toward Harry who so resembled his late father. Odd, he'd never noticed Moony with that habit…

    Lupin seemed to stiffen and decided it would be best to get all other business out of the way first. "I think first we should let you in on what's been going on here. Harry, I'll let you start."

    Harry shared a slight nod with his father, and Sirius felt himself getting angry at the cloak and dagger game his godson and Remus seemed to be playing. "I don' t know what the bloody hell's going on here, but one of you had better tell me something, now."

    Harry turned to his godfather and instantly affected a relaxed posture. "Sorry Sirius. Things have been strange for a while. Believe it or not, it goes all the way back to this past summer at the Dursley's. Started rather oddly with a nightmare…"

    And for the next couple of hours, Harry explained everything that had happened to him, Hermione and Ron, from the day he met them in Diagon Alley up to last night, when they'd been able, with the help of the sorting hat's song from fifth year, to figure out some of the cryptic message Trelawny had divined. Lupin interjected some when he could, from when he'd gotten there, to when he was able to add insight, being careful for the moment to leave out certain things. And the thick tension in the room dwindled to a slight unease for the time being.

    "So, I reckon Trelawny's not quite the batty old crackpot we always took her for," said Sirius in all earnestness.

    "Seems that way," said Remus as he massaged his temples.

    "But about the old prediction she made involving you and Voldemort," said Sirius as he turned toward Harry and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Harry, I want you to know, I don't give a damn if Merlin himself comes back and tells you to face him alone. It's never going to happen, you hear me?. You will never be alone in your fight with him. Remus and I, along with the rest of the Order member will be right along side you, fighting to the end."

    Harry paused for a moment, the heavy burden sinking its claws into his flesh with an icy numbness once more. "I know that's what you'd like to happen; but Sirius, in reality, I think it'll turn out exactly as Trelawny said."

    "We decide the future Harry, not the other way round," said Sirius, stubbornly setting his jaw. James recognised the expression on his face and knew it would do no good for Harry to further argue with him.

    To Harry's surprise, although he shouldn't have been, James agreed with Sirius. "He's right. You won't be alone Harry. Neither of us would ever let you, and for that matter, I don't believe Ron or Hermione would ever permit it, either. Do you?"

    Harry clasped his hands in front of him and chose not to answer. The question had never been would there be those out there willing to sacrifice for him. The question had been, when it came down to it, would he allow them too? Harry had been grappling with the same torturous thought night after night in his nightmares. He would wake, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he was sure it would soon wake Hermione, nestled so close to him. He could still see them in his mind's eye even now, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, his father, all laid out on the ground before a grinning Voldemort, eyes dead and unseeing, but plastered on Harry all the same. And the forgiveness he would read in their expressions…We would do it all over again for you in a second, Harry… But in the mirror of his mind, accusation and hatred would stare back at him forever.

    "Harry," repeated Sirius, louder this time. Harry's attention snapped back to the present.

    "You all right, son?" Lupin, concerned for him, had barely noted what he'd just said. Instantly, Harry shot him a panicked look, and his father realised what he'd done. jealous

    Sirius looked more angry that he did confused and turned a resentful gaze on Lupin. "And when exactly, did you start calling him that?"

    Harry felt the blood draining from his face, and could see that his father was equally as pale. But the gaze James shot him translated in his mind immediately. It's time he knows… And Harry nodded to his father, watching him slowly take a seat and turn his attention back to his old friend.

    Sirius' gaze shot between Lupin and Harry, and he suddenly, angrily slammed a fist down onto the table. "All right. Just what the bloody hell is going on? I've let the secret glances and the strange behaviour go on all night! It's obvious you've been keeping something from me and I want the right truth now, damn it!"

    "Calm down Sirius," said Lupin quietly, his gaze directed at the tabletop as he folded his hands in front of him. "I've been planning on telling you all along as I said before. I just wanted you to understand what's been going on round here first."

    "And I appreciate it," replied Sirius impatiently, fixing the other two with a piercing stare. "But now I want to know what the bloody hell's got you two acting so strange. Let's hear it."

    He looked from Remus to Harry, and the expressions of dread on their faces did nothing to alleviate the already growing panic fluttering in his chest. Remus, for his part, looked absolutely terrible; his eyes red and swimming with tears. And Harry looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

    Lupin spoke up. "I…I don't really know of a way to explain it to you, except to try telling you the same way I told Harry. What happened that night should never have occurred in the first place, but on retrospect, I don't imagine anything would've changed…"

    Sirius' flustered gaze drifted to Harry who had slumped dejectedly in his seat, utterly silent except for the deep breaths he seemed to be taking. The young man seemed unable to meet his eyes. He turned back to Lupin.

    "What night? What're you on about, mate?"

    Lupin swallowed harshly and his voice broke as he continued. "The night Voldemort attacked. The night Lily and J…James were killed."

    Sirius eyed him sharply. "Wh…I don't understand. Moony, we've been through this thousands of times since then…"

    "Let me finish," Lupin croaked out.

    Sirius saw Harry hadn't moved an inch, and he felt a cold dread building in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here…something was very wrong… What don't I know…What…

    "Sirius…on the n..night…a few hours before Voldemort attacked James and Lily, Re…I was there in Godric's hollow…at the cottage with them."

    Sirius glared openly at him, clearly in shock. "What'd you mean you were there!? That doesn't make any bloody sense! If you were there how in the hell did you survive!? And WHY THE HELL AM I JUST HEARING OF THIS!? This doesn't make sense…this doesn't make a bit of bloody sense…" He stood and began pacing the floor, once again noticing that Harry continued to stare blankly at the table in front of him.

    Lupin went on, his grief-stricken voice taking on an almost monotone quality, as if he'd been preparing the speech for years… "Rem…James and…We'd been having a discussion on how we both felt Wormtail had been acting suspicious. James felt that he wanted to confront him…"

    "James wanted to confront him!?" said Sirius whirling around to stare at Lupin. "I didn't even know he'd had time to suspect him before Voldemort attacked."

    Lupin nodded his head jerkily. "He did. Re…I..didn't want James going off to find him, but…but he bloody insisted. I guess in retrospect it made sense of course. Since I wasn't Lily and James' secret keeper, I couldn't really question Peter on it, could I?"

    Sirius sat down slowly, absorbed again, as he had been so many times before, in the details of the night Lily and James Potter died. A fresh wave of pain rose in him sharper than it had in a very long time, and he felt as if the scab was being peeled back from an old wound that had even as of yet not properly healed.

    He watched Remus face contort with grief the same as it had so many times before on the same subject, but this time, something was different…something in the way he looked; his face, the way he held himself…

    Something nagged at the back recesses of Sirius Black's mind, something that seemed long forgotten, but at the same time, just recently misplaced in his mind, as if the answer was just on the tip of his tongue, ready to spring back to remembrance at any second…

    "So…" continued Lupin tremulously, now more shaken than Sirius had ever seen him. "You know…remember how stubborn James was to a bloody fault."

    Sirius nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "He was that."

    "I couldn't dissuade him, no matter how hard I tried. James decided then and there, that he was the only one to confront Peter."

    Sirius frowned. "But how could James have confronted Peter with his own suspicions? Besides that fact, Prongs was never very sympathetic to Peter, was he? How in the hell did he think he was going to get anything from him?"

    Lupin turned haunted eyes to his friend, eyes that could've spoken volumes without a single word. "He didn't…that's why he chose Remus."

    Sirius set his jaw and stared at Remus Lupin as if he were completely cracked. "You've bloody lost me."

    "W…we…we decided the only way to get Peter to open up, was to have James confront Peter…as Remus."

    Sirius stiffened, his heart for some reason now jack-hammering against his chest, leaving him breathless. He felt himself leaning away from Lupin; the nagging in his brain now practically screaming at him to remember…remember something…

    Lupin gripped the table as the weight of his final confession dropped from his shoulders, and simultaneously sent a shock wave of fear rippling down his body. It was too late to take it back now, and even if he could, he wouldn't. He owed the truth to Sirius, and now that he was finally able to give it to him, he wasn't going to slink away from it. He felt Harry's eyes now boring into him, and somehow found the strength to continue.

    "James and Remus decided to perform a switching spell, Padfoot. But while Ja…J…I was gone,," he finally spat out, "Voldemort attacked."

    Sirius stood and began to back away from the table, clutching his wand, suddenly terrified of the tears that were streaming down Remus Lupin's face…a face that suddenly seemed wrong, out of place…

    "Remus and Lily died that night, Sirius…my old friend. And when I returned, I found my son as the only survivor."

    Harry stood shakily, prepared to move toward Sirius, but a look from James told him to stay where he was.

    "Y…You're a liar," breathed Sirius hoarsely, backing toward the floo with his wand outstretched. "You're a bloody frickin' liar, and I can't for the life of me figure out why…"

    He didn't even know what he was going to do with the wand, except for the immediate thought that the two people sitting in front of him weren't who they said they were. Perhaps they'd both taken a Polyjuice Potion, perhaps both Remus and Harry were lying somewhere around Hogwarts, attacked, dead…maybe horribly injured…

    "Sirius," said Remus, moving just slightly toward him and holding up both hands to show he was defenceless. "Look at me, mate. Listen to me…Remember all the times you helped Lily and I sneak from the common room late at night, under Moony's prefect nose? Remember how you distracted Philomena Hirum, the pretty brunette prefect along with Remus in sixth year?"

    "Anyone could know that," hissed Sirius almost hysterically, raising his wand to ward James from coming any further. "Anyone who went to school with us could've found that out…"

    "What about my parents? Thaddeus and Augusta Potter…how they took you in that final time you ran away from your mum? How you and I were practically brothers from then on, do you remember Padfoot? Do you remember how we used to sneak out during the summers and catch the Knight Bus over to Moony's house, where he and Wormtail were waiting? How we four used to tromp about town till all hours of the night and sneak back in the window just in time?"

    Sirius began vehemently shaking his head, his eyes wide and confused, and the colour seemed to be draining from his face. "Easy facts to find out…anyone…anyone who really wanted to could've found that out…"

    "Sirius he's telling the truth," said Harry quietly. "Please believe him. I've come to accept it too."

    "Shut up! Shut the hell up, both of you!" screamed Sirius, raising his wand toward them both. Harry instantly raised his hands as well. "Who are you!?" hissed Sirius. "I don't know why the bloody hell you'd want to do something like this…"

    "This isn't a prank," said James quietly.

    "I'LL SAY IT BLOODY WELL ISN'T!" bellowed Sirius dangerously, raising his wand at both James and Harry's eye level. "Now, either you start telling the truth, or I'll stun the both of you and force veritaserum down your throats…"

    Lupin raised his hands and made as if to move forward once again.

    "If you don't want to be thrown across this room and slammed into a wall, I suggest you keep still," growled Sirius menacingly.

    Lupin slowed his movements dramatically. "Wait Sirius, just listen to me. There's one time I can tell you, no one else could possibly know. Do you remember, the night we decided to let Peter be secret keeper rather than you? We had to obliviate the information from your mind so you'd never be forced to tell anyone what you knew. Do you remember what we did after, though Padfoot? So that we'd always have a permanent reminder of our friendship? Of the fact that I would still trust you with my life, and the life of my family?"

    Sirius blinked rapidly at the two before him.

    "We cut our hands, remember mate? We cut our hands and shook on it. Brothers by friendship, brothers by fortune, brothers by blood…Even though this body doesn't bear the scar of that night, I still remember. I know you do as well."

    Sirius felt his knees buckling under him and grabbed at the mantle for support. He turned his right hand over to examine the faded old scar, and the blurred pictures behind it suddenly came into focus. It was then that he was finally able to study the faces up close. Pictures of James and Lily, their wedding…James, Lily and baby Harry…intimate moments of their short lives together; pictures only James Potter would have…

    Remus nodded sadly to him when Sirius turned stunned, overwhelmed eyes back toward him. "Happier times, weren't they mate?"

    "He's telling the truth," said Harry quietly, his eyes swimming with tears. "I wasn't there for all of that, I know. But Dumbledore'll confirm it for you, Sirius."

    Sirius just continued to shake his head, feeling as if he was trapped in some nightmare he couldn't wake from, as if every moment of the past sixteen years were some horrible dream as well, that he might suddenly wake from it at any moment and have to face the fact that those past sixteen years had never really happened at all…

    "Let me do something for you," said James suddenly as a thought hit him. "Let me revisit all those times on you, that you almost had me figured out. Let me help you remember all those times I've had to make you forget."

    "Wh…what'd you…wh..how…" asked Sirius shakily, eyeing Remus as if he saw him now only through some sort of opaque glass, something that blurred him from reality…

    "It's a simple recanting spell," said James reassuredly as he made for his wand. He picked it up, and then set it back down again in front of Sirius. "You see? You can have me in an instant if I'm up to no good."

    Sirius merely stared from him to Harry and continued to hold his wand on them both. Something in his mind, the same something that had been nagging at the back of his brain was now telling him to let it happen. Let Remus do it…let him help you remember what it is you've forgotten…what you've possibly been made to forget…

    And James raised his wand. "Commemini Oblivium."

    Blue energy flowed forth from James Potter's wand, and suddenly, snatches of countless blank areas of Sirius Black's memory began to fill with images. Minutes of his life that had been unaccounted for suddenly rushed back into his thoughts like the pounding of ocean waves, one after the other, and Harry, from the other side of the room could almost see the recognition forming in Sirius' eyes.

    Flashes filled the small voids of his memory; a laugh that seemed out of place, countless gestures that seemed all too familiar on the wrong person. Careless bits of knowledge accidentally given, information that shouldn't have been known, the way Remus rode his broom, unlike the careful steady Lupin Sirius knew, and all too similar to the recklessness of James Potter. Simple conversations that seemed to easy and carefree; too familiar; too unlike the serious Remus of old…and suddenly, a time when Sirius had almost confronted Remus with the truth…the truth he'd found staring him in the face as he'd picked up and accidentally read the first of a series of lines from Lupin's personal journal…

    'I don't know how long I can keep up the charade. It kills me not to tell him who I am; kills me every day I think of how I've had to hand my son's emotional well-being over to him, though there's no one else I trust as fully as Padfoot…'

    Sirius felt as if he were falling, though he still felt his feet under him. "Oh my god…oh god…J..James…oh my god…"

    His face had gone solid white, and alarmed, both James and Harry began to rush forward as one, but Sirius held up both of his hands. "N..no…"

    He stumbled backward, ducked into the hearth and ripped up the pot on the floor beside him, grabbing a handful of green powder and tossing the rest aside onto the floor.

    "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London!" He cried out, and was gone in a flash of green fire.

    Suddenly, the room was thrown into silence once again, and James stood lifelessly with Harry beside him, his arms hanging uselessly at his side. He was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, vaguely aware that his son now stood away from him, one hand jammed into the pocket of his robes, the other covering his eyes, tears streaming over the knuckles.

    James summoned the strength to continue breathing and sat himself miserably down in a chair. "My god…" he rasped out quietly to himself. "Look what I've done to everyone I love…look what I've done…"

    *********************************************************

A/N: Ok readers. I truly hope I've done justice to how the characters would feel in this situation. I'm trying to stay as true to them as possible, while at the same time, conveying to you how they're thinking and feeling. I hope for all of you that I've done it right. I really enjoy your feedback, so if you have a second, please leave me a little note! Thank you thank you thank you to all the very faithful wonderful (and talented as well!) people who take time to read and review. You make my day!!!! Next chapter out very soon…

26. Chapter 26: An Invitation

• • Chapter 26: An Invitation

    December came to the Scottish highlands blustery and bitingly frigid, the howling wind and whirling snow carrying an icy chill that numbed anyone caught in it to the bone. The purplish mountains that served to outline the horizon of Hogwarts were now topped with snowfall, and the grounds outside were a thick blanket of powdery white, with the trees, looking strangely skeletal for lack of leaves, bowing heavily under piles of snow. The castles eaves, along with Hagrid's hut for that matter, dripped with long thick icicles that glistened in what little sunlight peeked out during the day, but the sky had mostly decided now to colour itself in only two ways; grey for the daytime and grey-black for night.

    Since their conversation with Sirius some three weeks prior, neither Harry nor his father had been able to contact him. They'd figured out, after a week or more of trying to floo him that Sirius had somehow charmed his fireplace to disconnect from James' floo only, since both Harry and his father assumed he was still in contact with Dumbledore. He would need to be, if only to receive news from the outside world.

    It was for this reason that Harry and James, along with Ron and Hermione, were headed down the cold castle hallways at that very moment to Dumbledore's office on a dull grey, freezing Friday afternoon. They'd finished Advanced DADA a couple of hours ago, with Harry finishing fencing after, and had decided to finally seek out the Headmaster's advice; though Harry and his father rather thought to themselves that their reasoning had more to do with the fact that Dumbledore was the only one who now knew of Sirius well-being.

• • "D'you think he's in?" asked Ron as they faced the two stone gargoyles that hid Dumbledore's office from the rest of the castle.

    "Don’t see why not," said Lupin as he absently ran his hands over his arms. "For the love of Godric I wish there was some way to keep the entire castle warm."

    Harry nodded his agreement and wrapped his arm tighter around a shivering Hermione. "Sherbet Lemon."

    The ugly statues hopped out of the way to both sides and a door ground opened to reveal a twisted staircase, ascending slowly with the grating sound of stone against stone. The four jumped on one after the other and rode the steps to the top, where they stepped into a decidedly warmer and more inviting area.

    Dumbledore's office had always been for Hermione particularly, an area of fascination. It was circular, with some walls filled from top to bottom with nothing but enormous curved bookshelves that reached toward the ceiling. As she passed the sorting hat she greeted it politely.

    The dozens of trinkets fascinated Ron; all sorts of delicate silver baubles and gadgets lined polished tables strewn here and there along the deep red carpeting. The portraits of long dead Headmasters of old pretended to be sleeping, as always, though Harry swore he saw one peek at them from the slit of an eye and then close it again quickly, affecting a rather loud snore after.

    One step up took them to the slightly higher second level where Dumbledore's desk sat gleaming a dark finished wood in the middle of the floor. It was covered in scrolls and parchments, devices and instruments, but no Headmaster. Fawkes perched regally on a tall stand by the staircase leading toward the uppermost floor, and Harry thought to himself that he was looking rather as if it was coming time for him to burn again.

    Four chairs suddenly apparated with a *pop* in front of the Headmaster's desk causing Hermione to squeal unexpectedly. Lupin looked up to discover Dumbledore in dark purple robes with silvery moons and stars on them, peering over the top floor railing at them through his half-moon glasses, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

    Lupin favoured him with a half smile. "Headmaster."

    Dumbledore smiled and began to descend the staircase slowly owing to his age, finally coming to stand before them. "After all this time I think it safe by now for you to call me Albus, James. Have a seat, please." He gestured politely for the four to have a seat and rounded his desk to do the same.

    "Er…Professor Dumbledore," began Harry a little hesitantly. "We wanted to…discuss something with you, Professor Lupin and I. Though we want it made clear we're not trying to get information from you you're not at liberty to give us…"

    Dumbledore held up a hand and favoured Harry with a light smile. "Say no more, Harry. I'm right in assuming this is about Sirius?"

    So Lupin had been keeping the Headmaster informed, Harry thought to himself. He wondered secretly what else his father had chosen to share with him.

    Harry nodded sadly in answer to his question. "Yes sir."

    "He hasn't tried to contact either of us since the night I told him who I really am," said Lupin in a small, tired voice. "Not that I blame him, mind you. But Harry and I've tried to contact him ourselves, and he's cut us off from his floo network. We're assuming he's still in contact with you?"

    Dumbledore nodded from behind steepled fingers. "He is. Though I'm sure you know he wouldn't be confiding in me on something this personal. Our conversations consist of Ministry news and the Daily Prophet, nothing more… He's had quite a shock, you know. Might take him quite a bit of time to come to terms with it."

    "I'm sure," answered Lupin matter-of-factly. "And I completely understand it. I never considered he'd pour his heart out to you. It's just, well…Ms. Granger here has had an idea she thought might help and I feel she may have something, though we'll need the use of your floo to do it since you're the only one who can reach him."

    Dumbledore, looking slightly surprised even for him, turned his attention toward Hermione, who shifted a bit nervously in her chair.

    "I thought, well… I thought we might invite Sirius to spend the holidays here with us in the castle," began Hermione. "I figured he might be able to come to terms with things more easily when surrounded by his friends…While still being with Professor Lu…er, Mr. Potter, he wouldn't yet have to face the awkwardness of having to meet with him alone."

    "You can call me James out of the classroom, Hermione." Said Lupin with a perfunctory smile. Hermione nodded gratefully, and Harry blinked hard once. The sound of his father's first name coming from Hermione would be a bit odd for him to hear.

    Dumbledore appeared to be considering what Hermione had said and the four waited silently for his response.

    "You've all decided to spend the holidays here at Hogwarts, then?" asked the Headmaster.

    "Well, I'm not. Mum insists we all spend Christmas together…especially since…well..since Percy won't be joining us." Ron ended the sentence with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "Normally it'd be Harry too, and Sirius would be more than welcome as far as Mum is concerned I'm sure, but all of the Weasley's on top of everyone else would be too much for Sirius to handle right now, I think."

    "I would tend to agree with you on that," said Dumbledore, a wry smile twisting the very corners of his mouth.

    "So it'd be just myself, Hermione, Sirius…and dad," said Harry, forcing out the last word in a small voice. Lupin shot him a surprised glance which Harry ignored. "He'd probably want to stay in the Gryffindor common room; have a bit of privacy. And from looking over the holiday rosters, Hermione and I are the only students who're staying over the holidays this year. No one should find out."

    Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes taking a far-off look as he thought over the plan and the implications it might have. If Sirius were seen by anyone other than himself or the ones in this room, the consequences could be very dire indeed, yet… he needed somehow to be able to come to terms with the news he'd just received. Dumbledore could think of no better and less troubling of a situation for Sirius than to have him over for the holidays. He could floo home whenever he wished, no pressures to right things straight away, and Ms. Granger was right in saying that the situation would be much less threatening to him with others around to lessen the awkwardness, and to soften the blow…

    "I'll permit it," said Dumbledore amidst a group of suddenly relieved faces, but continued with a very stern voice that sounded as if he thought the situation would normally be against his better judgement. "However, I want it made absolutely clear Sirius is to stay within the walls of this school. I'll inform Severus and Minerva of his coming as they're the only other professors staying over, but I can't stress enough what could happen should Sirius be somehow found out. Not only would he have every Ministry-loyal Auror and hitwizard directly after him, but the school would come under immediate attack from the Ministry. Fudge would take this as an opportunity to have me ousted and the school taken over. I'm trusting all of you to keep this in mind."

    Lupin nodded gravely. "I understand the implications Albus. You can be certain we'll take every precaution."

    "It'll be good for Sirius to get out from Grimmauld Place for a while," Harry stated, almost more to himself than anyone else.

    "Yeah," agreed Ron. "He can't be very happy cooped up in the old dark estate alone with no one round to keep him company…"

    "Especially during the holidays," finished Hermione for him. "We'll have to work hard at making him feel comfortable and welcome. It'll probably be really awkward at first, but hopefully he'll come round to talking with…everyone. Though it might just be Harry and I for a while."

    Lupin nodded sadly at this, and Dumbledore eyed him with a look of understanding. "You did what you had to do James," he said quietly. "You kept your identity hidden to keep Harry and Sirius safe and I think once he understands it, Sirius won't be able to fault you for it. It may take him quite a while to come to terms with the shock, but once he does, I can't imagine he'll be anything but happy to have his closest friend back… no matter the circumstances."

    Harry said nothing during this exchange, but somehow in his own mind, he wasn't so sure Dumbledore understood how Sirius must feel. It would take longer than one shared holiday for him to suddenly feel right with everything. After all, Harry was still sorting through things in his own mind, and he couldn't imagine, with Sirius having even more to deal with what with having to grieve for the death of a friend he hadn't even known was dead, that he would come round so quickly. Besides the fact, Sirius would probably have the same feelings of confusion and betrayal Harry had been battling for some odd three months now.

    Dumbledore watched the four leave his office and could tell just from the look on Harry's face that he doubted what the Headmaster had just said. But Harry didn't know that the subject wasn't one Dumbledore was just pretending to understand. In fact, it was something he dealt with everyday…something he held closely guarded and wrapped in his own shroud of secrecy. Something, the Headmaster thought as he watched Harry exit, laying his head heavily in his hands, he wished he could unburden himself of with every waking moment…

    ***************************************

    The grey, frosty days of the middle of December meant to the students, who chatted excitedly in the halls between classes, that time for the Yule Ball was fast approaching. Scads of house elves, along with a grudging Filch who made Ebenezer Scrooge seem almost loveable by comparison, had begun the yearly chore of decorating the castle for the holidays. The halls leading to every classroom were covered in wreaths, decorative baubles, snowmen charmed to stay frozen, and great bright Christmas trees. Even Trelawny had gotten into the holiday spirit and had decided she at least hadn't seen Harry's early demise happening in December, so he could have a pleasant holiday now, couldn't he? Ron had loved that one.

    Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate Harry and Hermione's quarters personally with loads of gaudy ornaments, streamers, a large Christmas tree, and had charmed an entire back wall of their common room to spell out "Happy Christmas Harry Potter!" in great electric blue lights. They'd nearly been blinded by it coming in one afternoon from classes and it took Harry nearly an hour banishing it all away, though he did leave the giant Christmas tree in a corner near the hearth, having finally charmed his face off from every ornament.

    Ginny had decided to make Hermione her personal confidant with all things Draco Malfoy, and was still working at making headway with him. They had gotten closer, though he seemed to keep her at arms length whenever other Slytherin were around, or when the subject of "feelings" came into play. It angered Ginny to no end for Draco to suddenly act as if there was nothing between them when a housemate of his passed by. And the fact that he skirted easily around having to describe what he felt for her made her wonder at times if he was merely having his fun with her until he'd had his fill.

    This particular Saturday evening, Hermione had sent Harry and Ron off with the premise that they needed some 'male bonding time', which neither seemed to mind as Ron immediately punched at the air grinning that Seamus and Dean had set up a Quidditch match between sixth and seventh year Gryffindors that night for fun. As soon as they left, Ginny showed up to the common room ready for conversation.

    She and Hermione sat opposite each other on the soft rug in front of the fire, looking through catalogues of Madame Malkin's robes and fashion issues of Witch Weekly, discussing what they would be wearing for the ball, among other things.

    "…and any time one of his housemates comes near, he immediately makes as if we're not together. Moves away from me and drops my hand. Sometimes even makes some half-arsed comment just to make me angry at him so we'll start arguing…I'm sure of it!" Declared Ginny as she held up a picture of a witch dressed in deep purple robes for Hermione to see.

    "Yeah, I like that one," said Hermione absently as she thought over what Ginny had said. "Have you asked him why he does it? Why he's afraid to have anyone know you're together?"

    "Not anyone," said Ginny huffily. "It doesn't matter if some Ravenclaw passes by while we're snogging outside, does it? Or some Hufflepuff while we're holding hands? It's only one's from his own house!"

    "I don’t think it's that he's ashamed of you then," said Hermione reasonably, thumbing through the 'Best Dressed Celebrity Witches' section. "If it were that, he'd not want anyone seeing you together. Is there some reason he'd be afraid for any Slytherin specifically to see you've grown close?"

    Ginny sighed in defeat. "I dunno. I've asked him a hundred times in a hundred different roundabout ways, but he scrubs round the question. And if I keep asking him he gets upset and we end up in a row."

    "I'm sure you don't stand for that," smiled Hermione. She gasped at one picture of a witch in a sky blue velvet gown with snowflakes charmed to sparkle all down the length of it. Her slippers were clear, made of some crystal-like substance, the same colour. Ginny beamed at her.

    "Found yours, have you?" she asked with a smirk. "And to answer your question, no I don't; not normally. But he seems so adamant about it that I can't imagine he's not got some good reason. Doesn't mean I don't want to know what it is though, does it?"

    "You have a right to know, Gin." Said Hermione firmly. "If it were Harry, I'd be furious."

    "It wouldn't be Harry though, would it?" said Ginny a bit wistfully. "He'd never do something like that…Oh don't look at me like that I don't have anything for him! I just wish Draco would think on how it makes me feel when he does that. Does make it seem as if he's a bit ashamed of me…" she ended a bit quietly.

    "And if you find out that's what it is," said Hermione fiercely, suddenly looking her straight in the eyes, "No matter what dumb-arse excuse he might give you… You'd better drop him like a bad habit, you hear me Gin? You're worth much more than that. You're beautiful, intelligent, and have a great personality. You could have anyone you want; and you don't want someone who'll treat you badly."

    Ginny returned the look with one of her own. "You have nothing to worry about there, Hermione. Besides the fact my brothers would shred him to a pile of wizard meat." Hermione grinned at her. "Still," continued Ginny, "I really don't think that's what this is about. I wouldn't be giving him near as much leeway on it if I believed that. I'm trying to be patient. He's got to have a reason, however mysterious it is to me, but I don't know how long I'm going to let it continue though, that's for certain."

    Hermione nodded with reserve, still looking as if she thought Ginny shouldn't abide by any of it, but Ginny merely returned to thumbing through the magazines strewn on the carpet before them. She was sure whatever was going on in Draco Malfoy's head she would eventually be able to pull from him...she hoped.

    ********************************************************

    The day of the Yule Ball approached quickly, and as with the All Hallows Eve bash, Hermione and Ginny had decided to dress together. But with Ginny's insistence that it would be great fun, Hermione had finally conceded to dress with all of the other girls in Gryffindor up in their dorms. As of this particular moment she had come to regret it.

    Lavender was bemoaning the fact that she had no earrings to go with her gown, a crimson dress so covered in lace and frills that she looked as if she were headed to some rich society brothel. Both Ginny and Hermione thought it was rather too much, but Lavender had balked at the idea of charming it back a little. Parvarti, in a silk amethyst gown that trailed the floor, was currently arguing with Lavender that she needed the earrings she was wearing and that she would have to borrow some one else's. Other girls in the room, girls from Ginny's year that Hermione barely knew were whining amongst themselves as well. I'm too fat…my dress is ugly…I didn't get who I wanted to take me to the ball…my hair looks awful…I have no jewellery…etc.

    Hermione, who had never grown up with other girls, and was now used to the peace and quiet of her and Harry's own rooms, began to grow annoyed at the whining and confusion of too many bodies and voices in one space. Clothes and makeup were strewn everywhere, things were being borrowed and passed around and subsequently lost amid the mess, and girls were bickering and complaining, frantically trying to get ready as they were sure their dates were downstairs waiting. Hermione thought to herself as Ginny helped zip up the back of her dress that she would never do anything like this again. The disorganisation and barely controlled chaos was beginning to drive her mad.

    She turned, along with Ginny so that both could take in their reflections in the double wide mirror lining one wall of the girls dorms, and both gasped at their images.

    Ginny's jade green dress had straps that fell off the shoulders, and a tight bodice that showed just the right amount of cleavage. The full skirt trailed the floor, and tiny emerald coloured gems were sown all along the length of it, getting closer and closer together as they reached the floor. Her shoes were the same colour silky jade, with around three inches of heel. The robe she wore over it was the palest shade of green she had ever seen, almost white, with shimmery trimming round the edges. Her thick red hair had been pulled into an elegant uptwist, and her lips and cheeks were tinged with red, with a hint of mascara on her lashes and a sweep of brown shadow over her eyelids. She wore tiny emerald earrings to top it off, and a thin gold chain with one green gem clasped in the middle. (Silver and green would've been too Slytherin like, Ginny had explained earlier with much sarcasm).

    "I still can't believe Draco just handed me a bag of galleons and told me to pick out whatever I fancied," breathed Ginny as she twirled in the mirror. "Apparently he's not afraid at anyone seeing us at dances together, just together at everyday things… I reckon being someone's date to the Yule Ball doesn't make it appear as if you're actually dating in his eyes. Though I hope that's not what's going through his mind."

    Hermione nodded her agreement, though she was half listening. Harry had done the same for her as Malfoy had done for Ginny as they had perused Hogsmeade with the rest of the fifth through seventh year students last week, although she'd had a hard time accepting it. It seemed a frivolous thing to do to spend loads of money on a gown and shoes to be worn only once, but Harry had insisted, and she had decided on the dress she'd seen advertised in the catalogue of Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions.

    The sky blue of the dress slowly faded into a deeper blue as it swept the floor, and the snowflakes that seemed to be falling down the dress as if from the sky, sparkled and gleamed as if made from white crystal. Her shoes, a clear sort of substance charmed the darker blue colour, were heels around two inches high, and Ginny had helped charm very tiny glimmering snowflakes into her hair, which she'd decided to wear down and only pulled back slightly from her face. She wore the bare minimum of makeup and jewellery as usual, but a sweep of white shadow across her lids, a bit of mascara, and some barely pink gloss added to her lips gave just the right touch, along with a delicate silver chain with a small string of sapphires. Ginny smiled at her.

    "You look like a princess. Harry'll drop dead when he claps eyes on you," she beamed happily as she helped Hermione into the shimmery white robe lying on the bed behind her.

    Hermione's jaw continued to hang open. "I've never owned anything like this in my whole life."

    "Neither have I," agreed Ginny as she twirled one last time in front of the mirror. "And I doubt I ever will again. But Carpe Diem I say, right?"

    Hermione smirked at her and stepped out of the way of one frantic sixth year who'd misplaced a long white glove. "Right. Let's get then. Is Malfoy meeting you there?"

    Ginny sighed wearily as they walked from the busy room and headed toward the stairs. "Yes. I think he's worried some of his housemates will start asking questions like they did after he came and picked me up from your and Harry's common room for the All Hallows Eve party. He hasn't said so, but I get the feeling he really doesn't want them assuming anything."

    Hermione stopped midway down the stairs and turned to eye Ginny gravely. "Look Gin. I really don't think you should put up with that. You could do so much better. Don't let Malfoy treat you less than what you're worth."

    "I don't intend to, Hermione," replied Ginny patiently. "I think something else is going on I can't see. I'm not going to let it go on for much longer. You can rest assured, if I think for one minute it's because he's ashamed of me, he'll have my Comet Two Sixty jammed so far up his arse he won't be able to see straight. So no worries, all right?"

    Hermione grinned and laughed at the younger girl despite her misgivings and nodded, deciding for the moment to let the matter rest. Ginny was able to take care of herself; she'd shown herself more than capable on several occasions thus far. And in the end it would be up to her how she allowed herself to be treated.

    As the two girls entered the common room, Ginny gave Hermione a wink and made her way toward the portrait door and out to head toward the Great Hall.

    The common room looked like some sort of formal waiting area, littered with Gryffindor males dressed to the nines in suits and dress robes. Some were waiting patiently for their dates, others were looking quite grumpy as they yanked frustratedly on ties and jackets, and still others were looking quite green and sweaty as they fidgeted and paced, stealing nervous glances toward the staircase leading toward the girls dorms. Every now and then some girl would emerge and one boy was reprieved, with the rest sighing and settling back again to wait.

    Hermione spied Harry and Ron seated in chairs near the fire. Both were sprawled out haphazardly, arms and legs thrown where ever they'd decided to land, jackets thrown behind them on the backs of the chairs and ties loosened. Both looked like they felt overdressed and under-appreciated.

    She fought the urge to laugh out loud at them and rounded the back of Harry's chair. Even sitting carelessly in front of the hearth, tie hanging loosely round his neck, white button down shirt undone a bit for comfort, and black slacks now slightly wrinkled, Hermione found herself staring at his long, fit form. His black hair was still untamed and messy, and his overly green eyes behind the thin lenses seemed glossy from staring into the flames for too long, but he looked gorgeous to her. He hadn't seemed to notice she'd walked almost in front of him and it took Hermione's voice to snap him from his stupor.

    She rapped lightly on the top of his skull with her knuckles, standing slightly behind his chair. "Harry, love…you still in there?"

    Harry sat up, twisted round quickly, and found that he wasn't the only one in the room now staring open-mouthed at his date. A few whistles sounded behind him and he stood and gave the others one of his best 'hands off' scowls before returning his attention back to Hermione.

    "Hermione…you look absolutely…I mean, just…amazing! Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts, but gods you look smashing…Beautiful, really."

    Hermione had the good grace to blush, before giving Harry's now tall, standing form a once over. How could a seventeen year old manage to make standing in a tuxedo look roguishly sexy? Wasn't he supposed to come off as some sort of awkward? As not looking quite comfortable? And yet Harry stood, his weight slightly more on one foot than the other and slung his jacket over his back winking at her. She felt her knees begin to knock. He still had quite little idea the effect he had on her, damn it…

    Ron stood and gave her a peck on the cheek, managing to look quite handsome himself. He'd tamed his hair much more effectively than Harry had. "You do look wonderful, 'Mione… Any idea when my date's coming down? For the love of Godric, I swear I've been waiting for an hour now."

    Hermione laughed at him. "She was almost dressed when Ginny and I left. Shouldn't be too much longer."

    Ron scanned the room over Hermione's head. "Ginny? Where is she, then?"

    "Left a few minutes ago," said Harry. "Walked right past you. Didn't you see her?"

    "Obviously not. Did she leave with the ferret then?" asked Ron darkly. "Can't see how I missed that."

    Hermione took a deep breath. "Ginny and he decided to meet there…Now hang on before you go off…"

    "WHAT!?" barked Ron so loudly that Seamus and Dean turned to stare at them. "You mean he didn't have the frickin' decency to come get her from here!?"

    "Calm down Ron!" hissed Hermione frustratedly. "Ginny's got a good head on her shoulders. She knows what she's doing…"

    "So do I," Ron seethed dangerously as he whipped his wand from his robes and proceeded to stomp towards the portrait door.

    "Ron hang on," said Harry exasperatedly, grabbing onto his arm. Ron stopped but whirled to give Harry a very dirty scowl. "You can't just go off trying to blast Malfoy when things don't suit you between them! Ginny's got to decide things for herself."

    "Easy for you to say, Harry. That's not your sister being treated like shit out there, is it!?"

    Harry frowned slightly at him. "She's as good as, mate. And you know it."

    Ron continued to scowl at him, breathing heavily, but finally dropped his arm. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry Harry. But I don't like Ginny being treated like that. She deserves more."

    "She knows how it seems Ron," said Hermione placing a hand on his arm. "But she's got a good handle on things. She won't let herself be treated wrong. You know that."

    Ron smirked. "Yeah I do, I guess."

    The Great Hall was decorated to resemble a sort of ballroom of old, with large floating candle chandeliers hanging from the bewitched ceiling, now glowing with a fuzzy moon, very dark grey clouds, and a whirlwind of snowflurries. Great Christmas trees, once again decorated with live fairies glowing different pastel colours, stood in every corner. Great long silvery streamers hung from the walls, icicles hung magically from the large windowsills, and live snowmen greeted students as they came in.

    The impossibly long tables used as house tables for the Hall, now lined the walls, covered in refreshments and pumpkin punch, being constantly fussed over by one or more house elves. Some of the earlier arriving couples were already dancing slowly to the WWN Dumbledore had charmed to sound throughout, and the professors who were dressed nicely themselves in festive looking robes were all on hand here and there, mingling with each other or manning tables as chaperones.

    Ron greeted the snowman on his left gruffly, having already taken in the image of Ginny below, dancing with a distinctly stiff Draco Malfoy. Lavender pouted neatly beside him.

    "Ron, just for tonight let's forget about your sister and have fun, just you and I."

    Ron eyed her more harshly than he'd intended too. "She's my sister, Lav! I can't just forget about her! She's being used!"

    "You don't know that," said Harry with Hermione from behind the two.

    Ron turned to look at him. "I don't, do I!? How else do you explain the fact he wouldn't come get her from the common room tonight? Or the fact he doesn't want any of his mates knowing he fancies her!?"

    Hermione instantly looked alarmed. "What?…How did you…I mean, I didn't tell…"

    Ron rolled his eyes at her and then planted his gaze back on the couple below them. "Aw come off it, 'Mione. I watch them closer than anyone else here, don't I?"

    "I'm surprised you haven't turned him into a newt by now then," said Harry with a frown.

    "It's not for lack of wanting too," said Ron begrudgingly. "But if I did Ginny'd never speak to me again. I do have to let her handle it…for now."

    Ron's last words left the distinct feeling about him that he hadn't let go of it by a long shot, nevertheless, the four entered the 'ballroom' and immediately set to dancing and having fun. More and more couples joined them soon, and by the time eight o'clock rolled around, the hall was teeming with young formally dressed witches and wizards.

    "…and the most gorgeous by far, Miss Hermione Granger," finished Harry, grinning as he twirled Hermione outward and then caught her back to himself.

    Hermione beamed up at him. "You clean up well yourself there. And you're not half-biased, are you?"

    "Not a bit," said Harry with a mock look of annoyance. "Completely impartial."

    "Right."

    Harry smirked at her in that charming, roguish way that made her heart turn over, and Hermione felt herself giving into him once again. He held her so close, the distinct aroma of wind and outdoors and everything feverishly Harry about him. His soft, full lips brushed hers and she intensified the kiss, tangling her fingers in the fine hair that swept his nape. She never could seem to get enough of him…

    Gods she tasted like Elysian Fields, some sort of honeyed utopia he couldn't get enough of, even with all the times he'd fallen into her before. Harry felt the familiar drunken desire beginning to well up in him and decided to himself that he'd do better to just hold her for now, lest they end up in a full blown snog that embarrassed the hell out of everyone else.

    He pulled back from her somewhat dizzily and turned his head slightly to see Ron, dancing closely with Lavender, leering at him and giving him a suggestive wink and thumbs up. He blushed a bit and turned back to Hermione.

    "Er, love…much as I love kissing you…I don't think I'll be able to control myself if we keep on."

    She followed his gaze and saw Ron waggling his tongue brazenly at them while Lavender did her best to admonish him. Hermione gave him her best 'sod off' glower and returned her attention back to Harry.

    "It's all right. I feel the same. Can't help it if your devastatingly handsome now, can you?"

    "And now who's biased?" said Harry with a surprised grin as he held her even closer.

    "I resent the insinuation," said Hermione with a cock of one eyebrow. "I've always been an extremely unprejudiced judge of your overall…package."

    Harry leered at her in much the same way Ron had and lowered his voice an octave. "My package? We still talking about the same thing, 'Mione?"

    He'd expected her to punch him for the insinuation, but Hermione merely returned the look. "I mean that I personally think your outside is as beautiful as your inside. And as for your package…I haven't yet had the privilege of unwrapping it, have I?"

    Harry's jaw dropped and he grinned at her. "You'll never stop surprising me, will you?"

    Hermione looked pleased with herself as she let Harry dip her in a silly, overly-proper way.

    "And I rather think that when the time comes, we'll be unwrapping presents together, don't you?" he whispered down into her ear. "I can't wait to see mine."

    Hermione turned three shades of bright red as he lifted her back upright.

    **********************************************************

    From the other side of the ballroom, Ginny looked up at Draco as he swayed with her and caught a slideshow of indecipherable emotions crossing his face. He'd been stiff and almost awkward with her the whole night. Anytime one of his housemates passed by he made sure to hold her at arms length, and even acted at times as if he felt he would be glad when the whole thing was over. His attitude was beginning to grate on her, and Ginny felt, as Theodore Nott passed with his date, and Draco stopped looking at her to find one of the snack tables interesting, that she'd rather had enough.

    "If you're having such a horrible time why'd you ask me in the first place?" She whispered angrily above the song that had just come on the WWN. The station had decided to play some of the older, more famous Muggle Christmas songs this year, and the American Bing Crosby's low voice flowed smooth as melted butter into the Great Hall.

    *I'll be home for Christmas…You can plan on me…*

    Malfoy blinked a couple of times before her words sank in. "What? What're you on about?"

    "You!" said Ginny, setting her jaw. "All night long you've been distant and strange with me. 'Specially when one of your damn Slytherin friends pass by."

    Draco pulled her to him closer and looked down at her fiercely. "They most certainly are not my friends, Red. You know that."

    *Please have snow, and mistletoe…and presents 'neath the tree…*

    Ginny sighed and put her arms round his shoulders. "Then why d'you care what they think?"

    She felt Draco stiffen again but he brought a hand up to smooth a flaming red lock of hair back behind her ear that had fallen out of Ginny's upsweep. "I did tell you how smashing you look tonight, didn't I? Green is definitely your colour. You look like a jewel… Makes me want to wear you."

    *Christmas Eve will find me…*

    Ginny's eyes rounded at his obvious intimation but she decided she wouldn't be swayed off topic. "Mmmm…sort of like Harry's eyes, right?"

    Draco's eyes flashed and he suddenly held her at arms length. "What? You got some thing for Scarhead? What's going on with you two!? One witch not enough for him!?"

    Ginny smirked triumphantly. "Of course I don't have something for him, but I did just get you to stop play-acting now, didn't I? Now maybe you'll answer my question."

    Draco scowled at her. "Not very nice of you, Red."

    "No, it wasn't," said Ginny. "Now answer my question."

    *Where the love light gleams…I'll be home for Christmas…*

    "Which one was that?" asked Draco innocently as he twirled her outward and then brought her back in.

    Ginny gritted her teeth in aggravation. "The one where I asked you why you care what your classmates think of you and I?…if you can remember that far back…"

    Malfoy smiled down at her. He loved when she got feisty with him. "What makes you think I do?"

    He really was infuriating her now, and Ginny was on the verge of leaving him alone on the floor. She'd finally had enough. "Oh, I dunno… Maybe it's the fact that whenever one of them comes near it's as if you feel absolutely nothing for me…or maybe its that sometimes you actually start a fight with me so that it'll appear as if it's just another Weasley-Malfoy row going on…or it could be that you won't hold my hand or kiss me anywhere near a Slytherin…"

    Ginny's voice had begun to raise in pitch at the last sentence and Draco began to look alarmed. He stopped dancing at once and gripped her by the top of her arms. "Not so loud! You want the whole school hearing you!? Be quiet for god's sake!"

    *If only in my dreams…*

    Ginny stopped, breathing hard, eyes flaming with fury and hurt and wrenched her arms away from him. She stared hard at him for a few moments and then turned and began striding purposefully out from the Hall, obviously sure that he was going to follow. He did.

    When they'd gotten to the great oak double doors of the castle and wrenched them apart, Ginny met him at the bottom of the steps, her eyes shining with angry tears.

    "All right." Her voice was very steady, but low pitched and whispery as if she couldn't trust herself to use it fully. "You'll tell me what's going on right now, or we're through. You hear me?"

    Draco gave her his best scowl. "I don't take well to ultimatums, Red."

    *Christmas Eve will find me…* Drifted out muffled from inside the castle.

    "That's too bad," said Ginny, enunciating every word clearly. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know NOW."

    Malfoy stared at her for a few moments, those infuriatingly unreadable emotions crossing over his face again. He swallowed roughly.

    Ginny cleared her throat to keep her voice steady and spoke quietly. "Are you ashamed of me?"

    Draco looked confused. "Ashamed…"

    "Of me, yes," said Ginny clearly. "…Am I too poor for you? Is that it? Not high-class enough for a Malfoy?"

    "What!?" said Draco, angrily. "That what kind of wizard you think I am, Weasley? Equating me with my father now, are you!?"

    *Where the love light gleams…*

    "What other explanation have you given me!?" asked Ginny hotly. "I don’t know what to think anymore! I've let it go for too long and now I want the truth!"

    Draco screwed up his face and hesitated. He was going to hate himself in the morning. "Truth is that I have my reasons…and that's all you need to know for now."

    Ginny backed from him and crossed her arms over her chest, instantly telling him she was cutting herself off from him. That had done it. He'd lost her now and he knew it.

    "You know me better than that by now, I think." Ginny's breathing became more laboured and she spoke dangerously low. "You don't seriously think I'm all right with that, do you?"

    *I'll be home for Christmas…*

    Malfoy hesitated again. He knew she expected answers from him, but they were answers he wasn't willing to give. The answers would be worse for her than what had brought on the questions. He knew his next words would drive her completely from him, but hadn't he known all along it wouldn't last? He'd known. Trying to mix a Weasley with a Malfoy was like trying to successfully merge oil and water. It was never going to happen.

    He answered her last question steadily. "No…I don't."

    Ginny looked a bit stunned and stood, shifting uncomfortably, blinking quietly as if willing her eyes to keep from betraying her with tears. She just continued to stare at him until he felt almost burned by her gaze and could no longer meet it. He stared at the ground, hating life, hating himself, most of all, hating his last name…

    *If only in my dreams…*

    Then Ginny gave off a very soft derisive laugh at herself and began to sweep past him back up the steps and into the castle. He heard her mumble through sobs as she passed.

    "What was I thinking…"

    The huge oak door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, and Draco suddenly began to notice the snowflakes falling over him. The wind whistled round the corners of the castle, a thin layer of ice covering the lake shone dully to him as the moonshine hit it, and he watched apathetically as the wind began to blow layers of snow from the heavy bows of the surrounding trees. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his robes, and as the icy wind seeped through his robes and suit, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather clutched hold of his heart once again.

    Alone again, Draco thought to himself. Just as I knew I would be.

    *If only in my dreams.*

    *****************************************************

    Much later that night, after the ball had gone on for another two hours and ended, after Hermione had tried consoling a distraught Ginny who'd shown up to their common room at around midnight, and after Harry and Hermione had already changed back into their regular clothes, Harry finally sat with Hermione to compose a letter to Sirius. Christmas was only a week away now, and they knew the sooner they were able to ask him to join them, the longer he would have to get used to the idea of seeing them again.

    Every sentence he wrote, Harry turned to eye Hermione for approval, and she suggested small changes here and there when she found it necessary.

    They headed straight away down the dark cold hallways toward Dumbledore's office where they knew the Headmaster, himself a night owl, would still be awake. Dumbledore took the letter from them, bade them a good night, and promised them he'd floo it straight away to Sirius.

    Fifteen minutes later in London, Sirius sat on his couch at Grimmauld Place in front of the hearth, still clutching the letter he'd received some ten minutes ago with shaky hands. He'd recognised the untidy scrawl his name was written in immediately. Harry.

    Thinking to himself that it did him no good to prolong the inevitable, Sirius slit the envelope open and began to read with his heart thudding against his ribs.

    Dear Sirius,

    • • • • I hope all is well with you in London. I understand that what we told

            You comes as quite a shock to you to say the least. Honestly, I've had a right time coming to terms with it myself as you can imagine. I understand more than anyone how you must feel. It's taken me a while to even be able to speak with James, but I know once you've heard him out you'll understand a bit more why he's done what he has.

            Please don't shut us out, Sirius. You're still like a father to me, and no one will ever replace you for me. James knows that. But I need you both. You're both family and James and I love you more than you know. Please give him a chance to explain himself.

            Hermione's had the idea that maybe you could come spend Christmas with us here at Hogwarts this year. It'd be just you, Hermione, James and I. I hate the thought of you being alone in Grimmauld Place over the holidays, and I know you hate it as well. You could floo home whenever it suited you if you felt you needed to. We've made it all right with Dumbledore so all we need is your response.

            I would love my family to be with me on the holidays. As much as you, James and Hermione are all I have, I know James and I are all you have, Sirius. We both miss you. If you don't think you're able yet, I understand. Just please consider it, all right?

            Hoping to hear from you soon,

            Harry

    ***********************************************************************

A/N: Hey guys. I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out. I knew where I was trying to go but wasn't quite sure how I was getting there, you know? Anyway, after this things are going to begin heading downhill for everyone as far as the war is concerned, so be on the lookout for that. I dedicate this chapter to Claire, who owled me saying she was waiting patiently for the next chappie. Claire, you're the nicest evil fairy I know! ;0) Cheers! Bama ( P.S.- Don’t worry D/G fans).

27. Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

• • Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

    The black steam billowing in great clouds from the smokestack of the Hogwarts Express mingled with the spinning snowfall as Harry, Hermione and Lupin stood together at a bustling Hogsmeade Station. Ron, Ginny and Lavender Brown, who had been invited to spend Christmas holidays with the Weasleys, were currently in the process of hauling their trolleys over to the baggage handlers who looked slightly overwhelmed with the luggage of over two hundred Hogwarts students, currently milling about and boarding the train in a mass of barely controlled madness. Although there were still noticeably less students this year, the workers managed to seem grumpy, despite the lesser work load.

    Ron neared the three after leaving his luggage with a handler, breathing on his cold chapped hands and smirking at a shivering Hermione who was nearly wrapped invisible with Harry in his heavy black, winter robes. All he could see of her was a cold pink nose, a pair of large brown eyes, and a mop of corkscrew curls that Harry was having a hard time keeping the wind from blowing into his mouth.

    "And here I thought 'Mione cared enough to see us off," deadpanned Ron as he glanced round Harry and Lupin. Ginny and Lavender trotted up beside him having dispensed of their loads as well. "Nice of her not to show, wasn't it?"

    Ginny saw a pair of large brown eyes narrow at her brother from under Harry's chin and smiled. Lupin laughed and Harry chuckled, giving a slight 'oomph' as Hermione jabbed him in the ribs.

    "Ron, you know I'm here you great prat," came Hermione's muffled voice. "Now come here you two so we can send you off proper."

    Ron and Ginny neared and Hermione untangled herself from Harry and his robes long enough for the both of them and Lupin to hug the two goodbye, and bid Lavender a good holiday.

    Hermione held Ginny close for a few moments and whispered in her ear. "Please try to have a happy Christmas Gin. You'll be with your wonderful family…all those other redheads that love you so much! Try thinking on that."

    Ginny pulled back from her and gave a sad smile before answering her just as quietly. "And what would you say if the situation were reversed and it was Harry who'd broken with you?"

    Hermione paused and tucked a strand of Ginny's thick red hair back behind her winter hat. "I'd tell me to sod off."

    Ginny gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin and hugged Hermione again. "I know you're trying to help. Just knowing you're there to talk to is enough."

    "You can owl me anytime while you and Ron are away, you know that."

    Ginny nodded. "I know."

    The shrill whistle from behind the six and the conductor's bellow of "All aboard!" told them the Express was moments away from beginning its journey.

    Ron took Lavender's hand and nodded to Ginny, who seemed now to be staring morosely past him at something nearer the train.

    "Well mates, Professor Lupin," said Ron backing towards the train and deciding in Lavender's presence to keep Harry's fathers' identity a secret. "I guess we'll be off. See you after holidays. Christmas won't be the same without you, Harry. Mum's already had a solid cry and we've not even got there yet without you."

    Harry grinned fondly and called after him. "Give her a peck for me, mate! I'll most likely see her at graduation, I expect."

    "Right!" called Ron with a grin as he ushered Ginny and Lavender ahead of him onto the train and hopped the first step toward the doorway. The attendant was motioning him inside a bit agitatedly as the train had already begun its first sluggish pull down the tracks. "See you soon! Give Padfoot a good thump from me! Bye 'Mione, wherever you've got to!"

    Hermione knew he was referring to the fact that she was once again swimming in Harry's cloak with him, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She'd seen where Ginny had been looking a bit earlier as Ron had been saying his goodbyes; seen the tall, blonde-headed form of Draco Malfoy slumped dejectedly, peering unhappily back at her from the entrance of the train, his hands shoved into his pockets, breath billowing out in front of him smoky white in the cold. She'd also seen him turn away quickly and head through the entrance, most likely to find a compartment to hide in by himself; headed home for the holidays as well.

    Hermione had seen Lavender follow her gaze and give her a quick searching glance, but she was sure Harry and Ron hadn't noticed anything. Men could be so oblivious sometimes.

    She hoped for Ginny's sake that some sort of naturalness could be worked out between them soon, pushing down her own underlying feeling of relief that Ginny was no longer with the Slytherin. Hermione knew she had no right to judge the 'book' by its cover, and yet the thought still nagged her mind that the farther away from Draco and his father Ginny stayed, the safer she was.

    *************************************************

    Sirius swept long dark hair from his face and bending forward at his kitchen table, put quill to parchment with a shaky hand. After a few moments of staring at the words 'Dear Harry and…' he lowered the quill once again, letting his fatigue reddened eyes close and his head drop wearily into one hand.

    He'd experienced such a hailstorm of emotions during the past month that he'd almost not been able to think straight. Not long after the meeting with James and Harry he'd disconnected them from his floo network, needing time to sort things out in his own mind before hearing from them again. He'd wept countless nights over the loss of Remus Lupin, lain awake tossing and turning over the thought that he'd had James with him the entire time and not known it, and had grown angrier and angrier at his so-called best friend for having kept him in the dark for the past sixteen years.

    Oh it'd been easy enough to reason out why James had done what he had; Harry's safety, and even Sirius' own welfare had probably been the biggest, most obvious factors, with the preservation of James' own life coming in almost last on his list if Sirius knew him at all. But still, the thought that his best friend, more of a brother if the truth be told, had lied to him over and over again for so many years; not to mention the fact that he'd let him believe that another close friend who had died was still alive, kept him tossing and turning on wave after wave of confusion for countless hours.

    He'd begun dreaming again of the night Lily and James were murdered. A time he'd finally been able to hide away into the back recesses of his mind after so many years, had snuck back up into his consciousness as quickly and certainly as a thief, stealing his thoughts again; bringing back feelings of emptiness and pain, and most of all, overwhelming guilt. Well he remembered the nights he'd spent in Azkaban having the same awful dreams over and over; visions of their deaths and baby Harry alone in his crib all night long, watching over the dead bodies lying before him, ran through his head like some mental horror film. The regret had eaten his joy away more than the dementors could have ever done.

    He'd been away the night Voldemort had struck. Lupin and he had been taking turns staying with James, Lily and Harry those final days, because of the looming threat they had been sensing. Had it been his night with the Potters, perhaps he would be the one now lying in the ground. Perhaps Remus' life could've been spared, maybe even Lily's. Maybe he would've been a stronger opponent for Voldemort than Remus had been. Remus had always been the smarter one in school, that much was true, but Sirius had always had the upper hand at duelling. What might've changed that night?

    And Harry…gods that boy had already been through enough despair to last two lifetimes. He'd lost his parents, lost any type of loving family and support he could've come to know, and then been thrust into the hell and abuse that defined the Dursley household. He'd never known love, respect, or kindness until he'd come to Hogwarts and met the few that cared for him, and even then he wasn't granted reprieve. Because then he was made to endure constant threats on his life from Voldemort and constant pressure to be some sort of saviour to some of the wizarding world, while at the same time having to fear ridicule, unbelief, and slander from others. How might Harry's life have turned out differently if Sirius had been around to take care of him instead of in Azkaban? Molly Weasley had inadvertently brought that fact to his attention during a row two years ago and he'd not forgot it since.

    And yet of all the guilt and pain that weighed on him like some cement block hung round his neck, he was sure none of it compared to the agony James must feel; for Remus, Lily, and for Harry. And the continuing heartbreak he must be going through having to try to build a relationship with a son he barely knew, and who barely knew him.

    In that moment of clarity, Sirius decided that he owed it to himself, his friendship with James, the memory of Remus Lupin, and most of all Harry, to try.

    With a steadier hand than before, Sirius dipped the nib of his quill into the clay inkpot next to him and began to scratch out his reply.

    • • Dear Harry,

        It has taken me a good while to even be able to reply to your letter. I understand that it must've hurt both you and James for me to cut myself from you for a bit after all of that, but I needed time to think things through, you understand. I'll not try to write out my questions here, or what's been on my mind; those are things better left said face to face, I think.

        Suffice it to say Harry, when you said I would hate spending Christmas alone here in the old Black dungeon, you were right. I'm surprised to even hear myself say it, but its lonelier here than before Kreacher died. Barking old rotter of a house elf that he was, at least he was another living body. And the Order hasn't met much here lately, and won't be during Christmas, I'm sure. So all of that to say, I'll accept your invitation, and make arrangements with Dumbledore as to the day and time I'll arrive.

        I'll say no more here, except to say that this will be difficult on all of us I think, but I'm willing to give it a go. I'm most glad for you, that you have Hermione to lean on for all of this. She's quite the rock, isn't she?

        I need my family and friends much as you do, and count myself lucky you consider me part of yours. I'll be seeing you sometime round next week, I expect.

        Sirius

    And with that, Sirius walked to his hearth, and flooed his letter straight to Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster got it straightaway, with a twinkle in his eye that said he felt something was finally going to be put right.

    **************************************************

    Draco Malfoy sat stoically in the very back of his father's immaculately shined limousine and peered with dull grey eyes through the blowing snow as the driver turned down number 66 Hawthorn Way, where loomed at the end, the museum-like estate of Malfoy Manor.

    A cold, rigid looking mansion towered smooth cream and grey, taller than all others down the stately area, surrounded by very even, very formal gardens, and a tall ominous looking black wrought iron gate with the Malfoy crest imperiously set above it. Lucius had designed it that way. Lofty and unyielding with almost cruelly straight lines; the house was his father put to stone design. Draco cringed inwardly as the chauffeur drove them through the gates that magically swung open.

    Much like Harry Potter, although Draco would never admit it, he loathed having to come back to his 'home' during holidays and summers. Though most of the time he was given free reign of the place, what with his father out taking care of god knew what, and his mother most likely off at one of her esteemed 'rich witch' social functions, he found himself almost always starved for company. There were times when he would've taken Crabbe and Goyle's unintelligent blather over the emptiness and quiet.

    Narcissa had hired servants, but they'd been trained to be silent and have little to no personality about them while going about their chores. It was more like having a house full of zombies than people. He'd grown up with most of them, but could count the conversations he'd had with them over his seventeen years on his two hands, barring his nanny. But she'd been cold and impersonal, and at times even cruel.

    Yet, Draco reminisced with a shudder, he would've taken her cruelty any day over his father's. With his permanent sneer, and general disdain for anything Draco tried to accomplish outside of his own express orders, he was the epitome of everything cold, distant, and hard. Well could he remember the beatings he'd gotten from his father for making low marks in school, disobeying him indirectly, or failing to complete some task to his exact liking. He'd learned not to cry out at an early age; it only served to fuel his father's rage even more. After all, a real wizard took his punishment and learned from it, he didn't run off to squeal like a young witch, did he?

    He exited the car and walked toward the great solid wood door without a backward glance at the driver. He fixed his facial expression by instinct before he even put his hand to the knob…aloof, in control, and tough as steel. Lucius Malfoy would take no less.

    Draco strode into the massive foyer and was quickly relieved, if only for a moment, that no one was there waiting for him. A round polished mahogany table always laden with fresh flowers as per Narcissa, no matter the season, stood regally in the centre of a large marble floor. An intricate winding staircase loomed directly behind, and to the left, the archway that led to an impeccable dining room with white carpet, and two large crystal chandeliers hanging over an incredibly long mahogany dinner table laden with silver ornamentals; a table that more often than not, he usually sat at alone. The corners of Draco's mouth held a slight frown. Such opulence, all for nothing. It wasn't as if his parents were often there. The house and all of its rooms and riches were merely status symbols. This is how the Malfoy's were expected to live. And yet, the house, with all of the worldly comforts one could possibly ever hope to have, had a depressing, forlorn feel about it. It seemed whenever Draco came home he could almost hear the place mourning, echoing its lack of warmth.

    "Draco."

    A smooth, glacial voice sounded from behind him, and Malfoy stiffened inwardly as if his heart had just been frozen. He fixed his face and turned to greet the impeccably dressed wizard, hatred coursing through his veins like ice water.

    "Hello father."

    ****************************************************

    Hermione, with her nose currently stuck in the folds of a thick book, could almost feel Harry continuing to pace across the room. It was December 24^th, Christmas Eve, and the castle was deserted save them, the Headmaster, and the few professors who'd chosen to stay behind.

    She and Harry were currently standing in Dumbledore's office, which he'd kindly offered to abandon to them as Sirius was now due to arrive. He'd felt Black might feel more comfortable if only Harry and Hermione were there to greet him initially. Harry'd been inclined to agree, and he and Hermione now stood waiting for the great whoosh that would signal his godfather's arrival.

    Hermione glanced up from the volume she'd snagged from one of Dumbledore's large bookcases and gave a small sigh. Harry was pretending to scan the books as well, but was giving himself away by fidgeting and pacing. He was currently chewing the nails on his right hand to nubs, something he rarely did, and Hermione felt he was trying to keep his mouth occupied rather than voice his fears.

    "Harry…"

    "Mmm, what?" said Harry quickly, whirling to face Hermione and quickly glancing past her at Dumbledore's hearth. No Sirius yet…

    Hermione smiled tenderly at him and put her book down, walking over and reaching her hands up to his face. She turned his gaze to hers.

    "He'll be fine love," said Hermione softly.

    Harry frowned. "I know that..I know…" But he said it a bit too earnest to be taken seriously.

    "Do you?" She smiled.

    Harry relaxed beneath her touch and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment. She knew him too well. "I just want him to feel part of us, you know? I want him to be happy. For him to get his best friend back… I just want everything to be all right." He turned his head to kiss one of her palms.

    "I know," she whispered, pulling him into a hug which he sagged into gratefully. She buried her face in his chest, taking in his scent, and Harry dropped a kiss on her hair, lingering there; the scent of honeyed berries blanketing him in comfort once again.

    A whoosh of greyish debris suddenly littered the hearth, and Harry quickly turned Hermione around to face the fireplace with him, though still holding her tightly against his chest.

    A decidedly soot-covered Sirius, dressed in a long, slightly ragged black cloak an a pair of black Muggle trousers ducked out from the hearth, shaking grey and black ash from his clothes and mane of shaggy hair much as Padfoot would've done.

    "That could do with a good 'scourgifying'," said Sirius with a thumb jabbing behind him at the floo. He favoured Harry and Hermione with a small but warm smile. "Hullo you lot."

    Hermione felt Harry grinning behind her and decided to step out of his embrace to encourage him to move forward.

    Sirius and Harry met each other mid-stride in a warm handshake and quick hug.

    "I'm so glad you decided to come," said Harry, beaming. "Wouldn't have been Christmas without you."

    Sirius paused, a bit of sentiment stealing across his face at Harry's warmth. When he next spoke his voice was a bit gruff with emotion. "W…well, couldn't stand being holed up in the old Black estate over holidays, you know."

    "I can well imagine," Harry nodded in understanding. "Have your trunk with you, then?"

    "Shrunk it," said Sirius, patting his cloak pocket, which sounded a bit with the clanking together of objects. "Got some other things as well," he added with a wink.

    He turned his gaze toward Hermione who was smiling with unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

    "And you," he smiled, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You seem to have gotten more beautiful every time I clap eyes on you."

    Harry faked a scowl and placed hands on his hips. "Putting the moves on my girl?"

    Hermione managed a choked laugh, while Sirius grinned like a fool. "Best keep a close eye on this one, Harry. Some bloke'll come round and steal her right from under you, ugly thing that you are."

    "Won't be you, will it?" replied Harry without missing a beat. "Ugly and old."

    Both began to laugh and Hermione scoffed as she headed toward the spiral staircase that was now leading downward toward the ugly gargoyles guarding the office's entrance.

    "C'mon let's get, then. Couple of idiot nits, the both of you."

    Sirius grin stretched wider as he and Harry followed her down the staircase and out of the office, toward the head boy and girls dorms.

    "So much like you're mum its downright scary," whispered Sirius to Harry as they trudged dutifully behind her. "Even scolds like her."

    "I can hear you, you know," said Hermione from ahead with a hint of humour in her voice.

    They'd decided, before Sirius had got there, to wait on taking him to see James, and as Harry watched Sirius visibly relax having realised they were leading him to their common room, he decided he, Hermione and James had made the right decision. There would be plenty of time over the week he would be there for Sirius and James to reacquaint themselves, and Harry'd thought it best for Sirius to get as comfortable as possible with the idea first. The others had agreed, and had decided to give Sirius the option of staying in Harry's room for the week while he bunked with Hermione, or taking Gryffindor tower.

    Hermione was least surprised with Sirius decision as he scanned their quarters with approving grunts. He'd probably love staying in a place with others. Being in Gryffindor tower all by himself would most likely remind him too much of the loneliness of the Black Estate. He'd come here to escape that, Hermione knew.

    "I'd like to stay here I think, Harry. If it won't be too much of an inconvenience for you two."

    Harry looked a bit surprised but agreed. "No, not at all. I'll just bunk with 'Mione."

    Sirius gave him an odd look, and Harry quickly realised how the situation must sound to him. He immediately began to stutter.

    "W..well I…that is, it's not how it sounds…You see…we've been sleeping together…I mean…NO! That's not what I meant…" Harry shifted from one leg to the other, gesturing with hands that suddenly felt like comical rubbery things. Hermione had turned a deep shade of magenta.

    Sirius tried hard to keep from laughing and held up a hand. "Harry! What you two do or don't is none of my concern! You're of age now, aren't you? I don't presume anything, you know…"

    "As well you shouldn't!" said Harry with conviction. "We…we're not…"

    "Absolutely not!" squeaked Hermione vigorously, flushing a deep scarlet. "We're not…not yet…"

    "Really you two. It's none of my business. I think nothing of any of it, all right?" said Sirius firmly. "Maybe I should stay in Gryffindor tower. I don't mind."

    Harry and Hermione, sharing quick looks of deepest embarrassment, shook their heads.

    "No," said Harry. "I'd like you here with us. Really, I would."

    Sirius looked thoughtful. "We'll decide it later." He turned toward the large, decorated fir tree Dobby had set in the corner of their common room for them near the blazing hearth, and smiled easily. "Well, you've even got a tree, have you? Got some things for it, then."

    And as Sirius fished in his pocket and pulled out a handful of tiny wrapped boxes, the tension and embarrassment in the room dissipated. He began righting the gifts to their original sizes with an engorgement charm and placing them gleefully under the tree, his face shining like that of a child's on Christmas morning.

    Harry frowned at him as he and Hermione sat on the couch in front of the fire. "Hang on… how've you been able to shop for Christmas? You haven't been out and around, have you!?"

    Hermione gasped, clearly upset. "Oh Sirius how could you!? It isn't safe! I can't believe after all the times you've nearly been spotted before… and you can't buy gifts in your animagus form, can you!? What did you do, then!?"

    Sirius waved a hand at them. "Settle down, you two. I haven't been anywhere, unfortunately. I sent my list to Dumbledore, and he sent Snivellus out to Hogsmeade to do my shopping for me. I'm sure he appreciated the opportunity to help me out…" Sirius ended with a wicked chuckle.

    "Oh…" Hermione let out a relieved sigh and relaxed against Harry, who was now chuckling along with his godfather.

    "Sure he did, just like he would a good hex on his privates…" Harry grinned. "Has to help out dad as well with his wolfsbane potions. He's well pissed with that…" But Harry had suddenly noticed Sirius posture stiffen and realised what he'd done.

    Sirius turned from his task a bit pale and moved to sit in the plush arm chair next to the couch near them with a shaky sigh, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

    Harry mentally berated himself. How could he've slipped like that!? Gods, after what Sirius had already been through just getting up the nerve to come here…

    "Sirius…I'm sorry. It's not as if you're not choked enough without my banging on about…well…"

    "No Harry," said Sirius quickly. "You've got every right to mention your own father. It's just something I've got to get used to, is all. It's just…hearing him mentioned… in a state of being alive, and moving and talking and breathing and… just being… It's a bit like being punched hard in the gut; takes the wind out of me. Don't know how else to explain it."

    Harry grimaced. That was perfectly describing it in his book. "No need to explain. I understand perfectly. Still going through it a bit myself, you know."

    Sirius nodded and then shook his head at himself, leaning forward on his knees to stare at the floor. "And now I should apologise to you. I'm sorry, Harry. Have to remind myself sometimes that this didn't happen only to me. Probably harder on you than it could ever be on me, I reckon."

    Harry ran his fingers through his hair, feeling slightly uneasy and at a loss for words. "I…I don't know."

    An awkward silence followed before Hermione finally spoke up quietly. "Well…now you both know you can help each other, don't you?"

    Sirius, staring into the flames, smiled with an ironic upcurving of his lips. "You have a smart witch there, Harry. She's one I'd keep round, I think."

    Harry saw Hermione blush from the corner of his eye and pulled her onto his lap between his thighs, giving her a kiss on the temple and smoothing her curls back from her face affectionately. She sighed blissfully and snuggled back against him, burying her face in the soft crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms round her and held her close; one hand resting on the back of her head with the other on her hip. He felt her plant a soft kiss on his nape and melted into contentment, closing his eyes.

    "Yeah…think I will," he said softly, not sure later whether he'd said it out loud or not.

    *********************************************************

    Draco immediately recognised the once-over his father was giving him; sizing him up from his stance to his demeanour to his body language in a matter of only seconds. His cold grey eyes, always scrutinising him from above an uplifted, aristocratic nose and stern chin, swept every inch of him, shaking him from the inside, though Draco never gave any indication of it. Any sign of weakness would be punishable, so Draco had learned early, no matter what state he felt himself in, to always exude confidence and a cold detachment.

    Satisfied for now, Lucius addressed his son. "Back for the holidays, are we?"

    "I am," replied Draco stiffly.

    "Good," said Lucius stonily with the subtle raise of one silvery eyebrow. "I trust you've been excelling in your studies, what with N.E.W.T.s coming round. I expect nothing below an E in any of your classes. We wouldn't want the embarrassment of presenting the dark lord with a half-witted apprentice, now would we?"

    Draco's stomach felt suddenly as if it'd shrivelled down to nothing but a hard, cold lump of fear. He showed none of it and raised his chin haughtily.

    " 'Course not, father."

    Lucius paused for effect before accepting his son's response. "Udolphus has taken your things, then?"

    Draco nodded, knowing full well the driver/butler would have already unloaded the boot of the limo and placed his trunk in his room.

    Lucius inclined his head coolly at his son. "Your mother is currently off on one of her long socialite functions I gather, from what Eleanor tells me. So for the next week, it'll be just you and I round the house. I expect we'll be seeing a bit of one another."

    Draco's stiff posture wavered for a moment and his gaze shot up to meet his father's. He'd fully expected his mother not to be there. She never was. But he'd hoped his father would be away as well for most of the time, on some business venture, or some Death Eaters meeting. Anything to keep him away long enough so that Draco wouldn't have to see him.

    At the same time this thought hit him, Draco found himself mentally picturing his mother's latest 'social endeavour'. He wondered who it was this time. Perhaps Berkeley Wilson, the filthy rich owner of Wilson's Wizarding Travel Company; he'd seen them getting cosy on more than one occasion during one of the Malfoy's famed parties. Or maybe she'd chosen to take up with Nott's father again; Theodore had said his mother was out of town.

    It was almost amusing the lengths Lucius and Narcissa went to avoiding the issue of their own infidelity. Although it'd been going on for as long as Draco could remember, they never acknowledged it openly. Such was the life of the rich, beneficial, and socially dominant marriage. Stray all you like, but stay together for the power.

    But shit, did Lucius have to be here, now? Draco actually wanted to be alone after what'd happened with Ginny… She'd been the first genuine person he'd ever really experienced…

    Lucius studied his son through narrow, suspicious eyes. "Is there a problem, Draco?"

    Draco's heart stuttered in its beating for a moment, and he mentally raged at himself. Don't show him anything, idiot! You want him suspicious!? Keep your cool!

    "No father, of course not," lied Draco evenly. "I just assumed you'd be away on business. It's so rare these days we're able to spend any time together."

    Funny it never crossed Lucius mind to doubt his son ever had anything but an awesome respect for him, Draco thought as his father continued.

    "Under the circumstances I would not normally be here at all," said Lucius with a sneer. "If I were seen outside of this house, I'd be arrested for the attacks done at Hogwarts some months ago. Dumbledore suspects me." He smiled icily, a deadly glitter in his grey gaze. "He's right to do so. I did attack Filch, Pot…(he paused and cleared his throat..no need for Draco to know too much)…Lupin and the Granger mudblood. But all with good reason."

    Draco blinked at him. "Why?"

    "It is enough for you to know it was necessary," answered Lucius with a voice of steel. "The dark lord has need of me now more than ever. He'll soon have the Potter boy on his knees, begging for mercy, his friends broken before him on the ground. And after, with me as his chief advisor and right hand, the whole of the world, wizard and Muggle alike, will feel the crush of his fist as he rules supreme."

    Draco stared at Lucius, a death-like chill creeping up his spine. It was just then, when the elder Malfoy had made a fist to further purvey his point, that Draco had noticed the large, golden hand. The sound of those fingers closing tightly around the palm had sounded like the swift snap of a bone, such was the power in his grip.

    Lucius followed his son's gaze and smiled coldly. "It won't be long before you'll understand first hand what it is to be in his illustrious service."

    Draco lifted his head as if he felt honoured by this, but his insides roiled with loathing. No way in hell is You-know-who getting his damn talons sunk in me…

    "And now," said Lucius, "There are a few things that have been brought to my attention as of late…"

    Draco's stomach lurched. Oh my god…he knows…

    "Follow me into the livingroom," continued Lucius quietly. "We'll be more comfortable there."

    Draco's lungs suddenly squeezed uncomfortably in his chest, and he followed his father toward the livingroom as if he were being led toward the gallows. Did he know?… Had one of his housemates said something to their father?…One of Lucius' Death Eater associates?…

    If this was the case, Malfoy knew he was in for a long night…if he survived it.

    *************************************************************

    Soft moonlight filtered through the half-moon window above the closed crimson drapes in Hermione's room, bathing she and Harry in the dim glow as they lay facing each other. They had stayed awake talking with Sirius for the better part of two hours since he'd finished setting himself up in Harry's room, and they'd finally decided when midnight had rolled round to drag themselves to bed and finish catching up in the morning.

    Harry continued to stroke Hermione's face, so close under the warm blankets, his arms and legs tangled with hers, whispering his commitment to her as the quiet and dark often effected him to. His intense green gaze burned into hers, lips only inches away, mumbling nonsensical, affectionate things. Both kept stealing kisses from the other that quickly turned into full blown snogging. These moments away from everyone else were theirs to take advantage of. It became harder and harder each time to sleep them away.

    "You were good with Sirius tonight," Harry whispered to Hermione as his eyes raked her face.

    "I was?" answered Hermione as she stroked his cheek, a bit of stubble roughening it. "I didn't do anything but talk to him…"

    Harry smiled at her. "You helped put him at ease. You have a way of warming people 'Mione, though I'm not surprised you don't know it."

    Hermione scooted closer to him and whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Oh, I do? So which was it that first warmed you and Ron to me? Was it while I constantly tried to prove what a know-it-all I am? Or maybe it's been all the times I've nagged you two on your studies. I know…it's my bossiness, isn't it? I always knew that would get you..."

    Harry smirked at her and tucked her hair behind the soft shell of her ear. "That's not all you're about. And you don't think Ron and I recognise that's your way of caring for us? No matter how much it irks us at the time…"

    Hermione pinched him playfully on the arm. "And you'd never get anything done if I didn't, would you? I swear what with N.E.W.T.s being right round the corner it's more important than ever we study extra hard! 'Specially on the subjects you need for Auror. For example, I was thinking you could do with bringing your Potions grade up a bit, and…"

    Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed, slapping his hand over her mouth and laughing as she mumbled beneath it. "I never meant to get you started…what'd I have to do to shut you up?"

    But he immediately noticed the twinkle in Hermione's eyes and brought his hand away to see that she was smiling. He narrowed his eyes at her.

    "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

    "I was hoping you'd think of a way to stop me going on," she smiled coyly. "There's one sure way I can think of…One you're really good at…"

    Harry favoured her with a sexy, lopsided grin that made her heart lurch. He wrapped his legs more tightly with hers, pressing her body flush against his. They had already exchanged their warmer pyjamas for cooler ones when the snogging had gotten them too heated, so Hermione now wore a pair of his boxer shorts and an oversized tee shirt, while Harry wore only a pair of flannel pants. His hand began moving gently up and down the left side of her body and he followed her dropped gaze, watching as the blush crept over her face. He immediately felt the fire beginning to build between them once again. And Merlin how he welcomed it…

    "What would that be?" he murmured with a smouldering gaze, his lips inches from her own. He moved as if to kiss her, and then let his lips brush hers to move almost idly to her neck, moving up toward her ear. When he began sucking on the lobe, tongue dipping in and his hand sliding under her shirt to the curve of her waist and down toward her hip, Hermione felt familiar desire zing from her chest outward like an electrical current.

    "I…I think you've hit on it," said Hermione breathlessly tangling her hands in his hair as his fingers swept the soft swell of the side of her breast. She decided that turnabout was fair play, so she brought her hand to his chest, tracing the firm lines there and bringing her palm downward to slide carelessly over the lowest part of his abdomen. She felt him groan against her ear and he pulled back, his expression carnal and his voice low.

    "Merlin, Hermione. Don’t do that…it isn't fair."

    Hermione eyed him innocently. "Mmm? What isn't fair?"

    She brought her hand to above his knee and swept it slowly upward toward his inner thigh, stopping just below his groin, smiling in wonder at the quick response his lower half was giving her.

    Harry growled almost dangerously. "You're really asking for it…"

    "I don't remember asking for anything," she whispered seductively, watching Harry try to shift himself comfortable. "I'm rather enjoying the giving part…"

    Her hand moved to his other thigh and gave it the same treatment, massaging the hard muscles there; at the same time her lips moved to his own and gave him a lust-filled kiss. A moment later and Harry was on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, and the result of her handiwork pressed firmly in-between her thighs.

    "It's your fault, you know," Harry's low voice whispered against her cheek as he felt her breathing increase. "You give me no choice… I have to torture you now."

    "W..well do what you have to…oh...ohmygod," Hermione breathed out as one of Harry's hands slid slowly down her stomach and back up between the valley of her breasts. He moved downward, lifting her shirt to just cover the tops of her naked breasts and kissed below them, drawing his tongue along the underside of each one. Hermione gasped.

    "I…I think you're being…quite a bit meaner to me than I was t..to you," she panted quietly as his lips moved downward. She felt him smile against her navel, dipping his tongue in for a slow swirl and continuing downward, his hands gliding lazily down the sides of her waist and down to her hips, holding them firm. Damn you, Harry Potter, but pleasedon'tstop…

    He spread her legs slowly and moved down toward the end of the bed, kissing her ankles and taking his time moving upward, sliding his hands, mouth and tongue over her smooth calves, her thighs… He felt her quivering and a fierce hunger welled up inside him, shooting straight downward. Take it easy Harry, it isn't time…take it easy…

    He wanted to taste her so badly it was palpable, but he kept himself in check. I love her…I want to wait…she wants to wait… but he grinned to himself. No harm in a little foreplay though… His tongue laved its way upward, his mouth stopping every now and then to suck on a particularly soft area, his fingers resting on the top inside of her thighs, thumbs moving in tiny circles so near...

    Hermione's body was shaking with desire, fire burning downward with every stroke his tongue and Quidditch roughened fingers made against her; his soft, wild black hair tickling the insides of her legs…oh Merlin, would it never come fast enough, they'd waited so long…

    "H..Harry…"

    He finally slowed his torture to pull himself up between her legs, his hands on her hips and his chin resting on her lower abdomen. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

    "You like?" His voice was low and sultry, rumbling in a bare chest that was currently settled between her legs, vibrating against… And Hermione shuddered out a breath.

    She nodded. "And p..perhaps you should stop…before 'I like' too much."

    Harry's eyes darkened to jade and he moved back up to lay next to her, pressing himself firmly between her thighs. He felt her tremble and drive a bit against him. Lust shot through him like a cannonball.

    "I want you so badly," he moaned through gritted teeth, his hands pulling her completely flush against him. "But I also want to wait for you."

    She nodded her agreement, unable to speak at the moment, and Harry pulled her over to lay on top of him, carefully avoiding his painful erection. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair softly, his last thoughts before finally drifting off being what a lucky wizard he was.

    ********************************************************

    Draco perched motionless across from his father on the edge of an expensive suede chair and stared into the fire roaring in the hearth. Although on the outside he appeared cool and indifferent, on the inside he was falling apart. What did Lucius know? If he knew of his relationship with Ginny…Great Salazar, what would the bastard do…

    "I've received some disturbing reports as of late," sneered Lucius quietly. "About you, curiously. And from the most unlikely of sources…"

    His fathers snide voice infuriated him, yet Draco dealt him his most unaffected gaze. "About?"

    "It seems you've been seen consorting with one of the more…undesirable... sorts at school," continued Lucius in the same poisonously quiet voice. "Have you any idea of whom I am speaking?"

    Malfoy set his jaw and answered flippantly. "Not a clue." You arrogant son of a bitch…

    Lucius surveyed him coldly. "Be careful, Draco."

    Keep it in…just keep it in…reign it, you idiot… "Of course, father."

    "Since it seems you're at a loss, I'll spell it out for you," continued Lucius with a hard sarcasm in his voice. "It appears young Theodore Nott has seen you on several occasions consorting with…a Weasley." The name rolled so disdainfully off his tongue it was almost as if he'd vomited it up. "I trust with that sort of rumour, you can imagine the damage and embarrassment that could be inflicted upon the family name…"

    Draco studied his father as if all of this was news to him.

    Lucius eyed him with a gaze of steel and leaned forward, his voice seething with anger. "I won't have the name Malfoy tarnished by poor Muggle-loving filth such as Arthur Weasley or his church-mouse daughter. We are bred for much higher association, do you understand Draco?"

    Draco felt his breath coming harder and shorter and fought the urge to jump from the chair and pound his fist into his father's face. Outwardly, he was as still as a stone.

    "Father," he spoke quietly. "I think Theodore misunderstood what he saw…"

    "There should have been nothing for him to misunderstand!" Lucius barked out suddenly, his cold grey eyes flashing and his cool demeanour forgotten. "You think it has no bearing on the rest of the family what you do at your school!? Do you think inviting the little Weasley whore to social functions with you, be it a ball or anything else is acceptable!? Don't for one moment assume I'll allow such lowering of standards by you, Draco. Or must I remind you the lesson you were taught some years ago…"

    He needed no reminding. His father had caught him playing with a boy of lesser social standing a few streets over. Draco had been viciously caned and sent to his room for three days with nothing but water to sustain him.

    Being as he knew his father, Draco thought a way out, although he loathed himself for it. But what might Lucius do not only to himself, but Ginny if given the chance? There was only one thing for it… His stomach roiled sickly. Gods how he detested Lucius Malfoy…

    "She's a good lay, father," smirked Malfoy smoothly. "I gather you'll find I'm not the only Slytherin who knows it." It's a lie...I never touched her; not in that way...she's worth more than that…She's worth a thousand of you…and me for that matter…

    Lucius looked as taken aback as he ever allowed himself to appear. He stared at his son maliciously, willing him to crack, to waver in his story, but Draco sat relaxed, as indifferent and cold as the lie on his face. On the inside, he determined himself not to vomit.

    Lucius continued his gaze for some moments before an insinuating sneer finally etched its way onto his face. He sat back and surveyed his son with a little more respect.

    "I see," he drawled out quietly.

    For a few agonising minutes, Lucius steepled his fingers in front of him, gold on flesh, and scrutinised Draco as casually if he were some mildly interesting new development. Finally he leaned forward, his heartless eyes gleaming with something terrible.

    "Well," said Lucius quietly. "This being your last year at school, and coming of age, I believe some…changes..are in order."

    Again fear zinged through Draco at the subtle implication his father's words held, but he kept his face coolly impassive.

    "Changes, father?"

    Malfoy merely inclined his head at his son. "Whore or not, I forbid you to consort with the young Weasley witch ever again. Find someone more your equal, no matter what your intentions are. Understood?"

    Malfoy hesitated. "Of course, father."

    "It's time you're prepared for life after Hogwarts, Draco. This Christmas is sure to be one you'll not soon forget."

    Something in the way his father had spoken made Draco instantly uneasy. But he held Lucius cruel gaze with one of his own, wishing like everything he had someone to talk to, someone to help him escape this mess…

    ********************************************************

    The next couple of days with Sirius passed in a blur of preparations. Neither Harry nor Hermione had gone Christmas shopping as of yet, and as there was no way Sirius could be seen in Hogsmeade, whether in Snuffles' form or not, they left him chatting with Dumbledore, knowing that in two days time, Christmas day, he would need to be ready to face James.

    Curiously, Hogsmeade was bustling with activity, so much more so than Diagon Alley had done previously in the year. Since Hogsmeade was much nearer to Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest, and consequently the Kavan Forest where Voldemort had last been seen, Harry and Hermione found it odd the amount of business the town was receiving. However, they chalked it up to the fact that nothing had been seen or heard from the dark lord or any of his followers for some months now.

    At twilight, the town resembled something out of a Christmas card. The sky twinkled merrily with only a few stars owing to heavy greyish-white clouds threatening more winter weather. Snow lined curbs and sidewalks in white heaps, where it had been magically blown to either side to ease foot traffic. Multi-coloured and white lights draped windows, and the jolly tinkle of bells sounded with every open door. The air smelled of homemade bread and candy wafting enticingly from shops. Witches and wizards bustled past balancing loads of packages, dressed in their heaviest wool robes, mittens and scarves; cheerful greetings and conversations making their breath swirl out misty white. A thin wizard named Caligulus grinned overjoyed to all passers-by; his coffee cart teemed with business this time of year, the words Caligulus' Coffee Carriage magically lighted up in bright red and green over the awning.

    With the last of his presents bought, Harry left Zonko's Joke Shop laden with a fresh batch of dungbombs, hiccup sweets and nose-biting teacups for Ron, who would have a field day opening all of them when he returned from the Burrow. After this last shop, he was left wondering how Fred and George were doing with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley when he saw Hermione exiting Honeydukes with a large box. He hoisted up all the bags he was carrying and crossed the road to meet her.

    "Got everything, then?" he said over the noise of the crowd near them.

    Hermione tugged her scarf higher up her nose. "No. I still need to get to Gladrags for the sweater I ordered Mum, and to Scrivenshafts to get a new quill for Ginny. Oh! And I wanted to go by the post office to owl a card to mum and dad. They were so disappointed when I told them I was staying at Hogwarts over holiday. I want to at least wish them Happy Christmas. Were you already done?"

    "Yep," said Harry tiredly. "Been everywhere but the Three Broomsticks. I was hoping we'd go there next for a butterbeer, and then back to Hogwarts. Don’t want Sirius waiting too long for us."

    Hermione smiled at him. "Just a bit longer and then we'll go."

    Gladrags and Scrivenshafts were done very quickly, and not for the first time, Harry was immensely thankful Hermione was not one of those witches who took forever perusing each and every item. They were in and out very fast, and found themselves nearing the post office within fifteen minutes time.

    The building sat at the very end of the long row of businesses that marked the main drag of Hogsmeade. The outside was painted a dark blue, hard to see in the ever darkening twilight, and the words "Wizard Post" were emblazoned with magically lighted white paint above the doorway. A notice board loaded with fliers and notes that waved and snapped in the slight breeze, greeted their eyes before entering.

    Harry merely glanced at it as he prepared to lead the way inside, but Hermione caught his arm suddenly with a gasp and pointed to a particularly large notice that seemed to have been hung there for a while owing to its weather-beaten state. Next to another "Wanted" flier bearing Sirius' face, (which was no shock to them), a young wizards face stared happily back, frozen in time. It had apparently been Muggle photocopied as the image did not move, and Hermione swiped away a tear as the image of Dennis Creevey, apparently done at Hogwarts since he was wearing his Gryffindor robes, smiled down at them. The words underneath had apparently been scrawled with a trembling hand.

    "Have you seen this boy? Dennis Alvador Creevey, fifteen years old. Disappeared August 21^st near Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley, London, England.

    Reward for any information leading to his location. Anonymous tips accepted, no questions asked. Contact Auror Headquarters, Ministry of Magic, or Pembert and Alva Creevey, parents…"

    An address and telephone number followed.

    "Great Merlin," breathed Hermione, her face ashen with shame. "I'd almost forgotten about poor Dennis. Hardly ever see Colin for a reminder…"

    Harry nodded, feeling just as sad and ashamed. "Ron says he keeps to himself mostly. Said he's come out a bit more lately, but he's still not like he used to be. He stays all quiet and drawn up into himself. Can't blame him."

    Hermione nodded her agreement and resolved with herself to have a talk with Colin when he returned from holiday.

    She and Harry moved indoors and quickly found a spot in a long, noisy queue of witches and wizards burdened down with packages to send and letters to deliver. Behind a cluttered counter, where an overweight, harried looking postmaster and his fidgety assistant stood receiving packages and scrolls, a large set of shelves stood, each one painted a different colour and holding cages with different sized owls. When each package or scroll was weighed and checked for it's destination, an appropriate owl was chosen and sent, along with its delivery, to the back with another post wizard to be set on its journey. When most of the crowd had thinned, Harry and Hermione finally neared a cluttered counter with a large sign reading "PRICE AND SWIFTNESS OF DELIVERY DETERMINED BY COLOUR-CODED OWL FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE."

    The postmaster did not look up at them as he shuffled through incoming mail.

    "Destination?" he asked in a thick Cockney accent.

    "Number twenty one, Hyde Street, Winchester, Hampshire," said Hermione. "I've written the address on the…"

    "Type a' deliv'ry?"

    "…envelope," finished Hermione a bit annoyed.

    He finally glanced up at them and caught sight of Harry over Hermione's head, his eyes quickly settling on the lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow. Harry frowned and quickly ruffled his bangs to cover it.

The corners of the postmasters thick lips turned down a bit. "You 'Arry Potter?"

• • Inwardly, Harry cringed. "Well…yeah."

    The postmaster's frown deepened and bent down with a grunt to rummage beneath the counter, mumbling audibly. "Well I'll be buggered…Dunno 'ow they knew you'd be comin'. Sixth sense, I reckon…"

    He re-emerged red-faced some moments later with a small rolled up parchment magically sealed. "Came fer ya earlier t'day," said the man bewildered, as he handed the small note to an equally befuddled Harry. Hermione looked on with interest.

    "Ain' no return addy," continued the wizard. "Jus' th' name 'Arry Potter' on its outside. Guess they reckoned we'd know ya when we seen ya. I mean, everyone does, don' they?"

    Harry eyed the roll and answered irritatedly. "I suppose…"

    He pocketed the note intending to open it later, and noted the postmaster and assistant rock back on their heels with looks of disappointment.

    "Well, bang it up 'ere young miss," said the fat wizard. Hermione passed him the card and he bobbed it up and down in his hand for a moment. " 'Course it don' weigh much. 'Ere Smitty…"

    He handed it to his assistant who immediately turned to choose a large ash-coloured owl.

    "No, you ruddy nit!" scowled the postmaster at Smitty. "A card don' take no Gian' Grey, them's fer packages an' th' like! Jus' sen' one a' them lit'le Scop owls, it'll do!"

    The assistant blushed deeply and reached higher up for one of the smaller owls, attaching the letter securely to its tiny leg and taking it round to the back.

    "Tha'll be five sickles," said the postmaster, turning back toward Harry and Hermione.

    Harry reached into his pouch to pay the man, and he and Hermione left, headed outside into the now darker night toward the Three Broomsticks.

    They sat toward the least crowded part of the dimly lighted pub, echoing with the noise of bottles clinking and witches and wizards talking and laughing. They chose a small, secluded booth away from most of the other patrons, and over mugs of steaming hot butterbeer, Harry pulled out the small parchment and tried to open it. Whatever ward had been used to close the scroll was extremely powerful as he soon found out, and it took Hermione remembering a seal breaking charm to finally reveal its contents.

    She pulled out her wand and pointed it.

    "Dilorico!"

    The note instantly unsealed and even unfurled itself to lay flat in Harry's hand. Hermione scooted closer to him to read the few words inside.

    "In two days time you shall receive the first."

    Harry frowned and turned the note over as if looking for another part. "What the bloody hell…"

    "Do you recognise the handwriting?" asked Hermione, grimacing.

    Harry shook his head, his thoughts immediately turning black. Who else would be so cryptic? Voldemort loved playing games…could this be a sign something dark was about to rear it's ugly head again? Without even realising it he snaked an arm round Hermione and pulled her closer to him, a look of apprehension creasing his face.

    Hermione's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. "Harry, what is it?"

    "I dunno," said Harry quietly, kissing the top of her head. "But I think we should get back to the castle now."

    Hermione nodded at him and let him take her hand, leading her out into the cold December evening, where snow had begun to come swirling down once again.

    ***************************************************

    Dear Ginny,

    • • I know I'll most likely see you round school but I wanted to tell you all this in a letter as I don't think we'll be having much contact back there. I know you'd like nothing more than to punch me right now. I honestly don't blame you. I wish on everything I own I could explain my actions to you, but I can't. I'm just writing you because I want you to know one thing. It's damn near impossible for me to tell you this as I don't normally go round expressing my feelings, but what I felt for you was real. Just know that.

        It never could've worked with us. I guess I could've told you that and spared your feelings before all of this, but I'm a selfish son of a bitch as you well know. I enjoyed being with you, even if it was only for a short time. You're the only beautiful, genuine person I've ever known, and I hope to god you never lose that.

        I just wanted you to know. I hate myself for hurting you. You're the first person I can honestly say that about. Be happy, Red. You deserve it.

        Yours, Draco

    Draco Malfoy watched the black owl take off into the dark night until it was unrecognisable against the sky, his heart grown even heavier than it'd done when he'd been downstairs with his father.

    *****************************************************

    The next two days passed too quickly for Sirius as the time to face James drew nearer.

    Christmas dawned grey, snowy and cold, and Harry and Hermione awoke to find him already awake, dressed and seated in front of the common room fire, his face drawn tight with nerves. Harry decided not to embarrass him by asking him how he felt, but rather followed Hermione's approach of cheerfulness.

    "Morning Sirius," yawned Hermione, plopping down on the couch beside him as Harry made his way into the bathroom for a shower.

    Sirius glanced over with a small smile at the sight of Hermione, whose hair was in low pigtails. "Morning."

    For a few moments they were content to listen to the crackling of the logs in the fire and the muffled spattering of the shower until Sirius finally spoke up quietly.

    "So, what'd you think of him?"

    Hermione turned to look at him. "Of James? He seems very kind...and patient. He's a great teacher. I can tell he loves Harry very much."

    "He asked you to call him James?" said Sirius, another small smile smoothing some of the lines from his face. "Always said he'd never allow anyone to call him 'mister' or 'sir'. Sounded too old; too much like his father."

    Hermione nodded. "I feel he's trying his best to make Harry comfortable round him. Maybe he knew if I called him by his first name rather than Mr. Potter it might sound less awkward. At least that's what I've thought, anyway."

    "You might well be right," said Sirius thoughtfully. He paused for a few moments, trying his best to think how to phrase his next question.

    "So, how do he and Harry…get on together?"

    Hermione eyed him for a moment. "You don't want to ask Harry these things?"

    "I just don't want him feeling more uncomfortable than he already is," said Sirius. "I don’t want him thinking he has to explain himself to me. I just want to know…I want to know if things are getting better between them."

    Hermione paused for a few moments to think through how Harry and his father's relationship seemed to be progressing. "Well, it's certainly less strained than before. They're able to talk about things now, important things. But by no means is Harry over everything yet. I'm not sure he'll ever be."

    Sirius grunted in understanding and sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the popping logs and the sound of Harry whistling some nameless tune as he shut off the shower.

    Very unexpectedly, Hermione suddenly placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly. "And Sirius…If you're wondering if James is somehow going to replace you in Harry's life…he isn't. Harry relies on you and feels the same about you as before his father reappeared. You can feel secure in that."

    She gave him a small understanding smile before jumping up as Harry emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled and a fresh pair of jeans on. Hermione pretended to ogle him like a randy tart before passing him to take her turn for the shower. Harry grinned at her and rounded the couch to sit near Sirius.

    "Alright?" he asked cheerfully.

    Sirius smiled at his godson and nodded, more light-hearted than he had been in days. "That girlfriend of yours is a keeper, Harry. Smart as they come, isn't she?"

    Harry gave him an odd sort of smile but agreed.

    The castle seemed oddly empty and echoing without the sounds of hundreds of students tromping its halls, talking with each other, and hundreds of cups, forks, and spoons clattering around plates and bowls in the Great Hall. The ghosts and portraits kept the place from being completely soundless. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron were seen chatting amiably around hallways, the Fat Friar was making gloomy noises over the missing Hufflepuff students and sulking that the Grey Lady continued to haunt the castle in silence, choosing not to speak to anyone. Peeves continued to reek havoc on any and every being who passed near him.

    Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair. Harry, Hermione and Sirius joined Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Snape and James at one long table set in the middle of the huge room as the others had been cleared away for the holidays.

    Sirius greeted them all in turn, even James, though it was a bit uncomfortable and forced. However, James seemed to take it in stride and greeted him back serenely, hoping that his own calm exterior would help Sirius feel more at ease. By the time the food had apparated to the middle of the table, a great pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hot tea and pumpkin juice, his efforts seemed to be working.

    True, Sirius had not yet had to face him one on one, but James was hopeful that once they did, having already shared breakfast together might make it a bit better.

    While they ate, Snape passed looks of deep dislike from Sirius to James and stayed morosely to himself, something which helped to bond the two friends together a bit more as they frequently shared observant glances about it between them. Dumbledore talked mostly about the Ministry and how they were still refusing to believe reports that Voldemort had returned. McGonnagol interjected her opinion on the whereabouts of the missing Dementors, stating somewhat unnecessarily that she was sure they'd gone to join Voldemort's ranks.

    Lupin spoke up every now and then when he could, while at the same time filling Sirius in on the dark happenings at Hogwarts since the beginning of the new school term. For proving his point, he lifted up one long sleeve of his robes to show Sirius the long, angry, red scar that he now bore on his left forearm.

    Sirius seemed eager to help in defending the school, although with Dumbledore's strong objections and reminders that he was still at large, some of the wind seemed to be taken from his sails. But Harry knew when time for the final war reached his godfather's ears there would be no stopping him from leaving Grimmauld Place and joining in the fight.

    Time after breakfast until that evening was spent with Harry, Hermione and Sirius wrapping packages and getting things ready for James arrival to their common room. Hermione set out the load of food Dobby had made especially for them on a blanket in front of the hearth. Sirius was getting noticeably more tense as time drew nearer for James to arrive, and he ended up having to rewrap some of the packages as he was paying little attention to what he was doing .

    A sharp rap on the portrait door around seven, followed by Sir Cadogen's tiny muffled voice, ("Halt! Who goes there!? You trespass on private lands, knave! Remove thyself or be forced forthwith!"), alerted them to the fact that James had finally arrived.

    Hermione opened the portrait door, admonishing Cadogen and receiving James in with a kiss on the cheek. As he entered, smiling first at the Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the corner, Harry couldn't help but notice how nervous he looked as well. He and James greeted each other with a handshake and after placing his presents under the tree, James joined the other three in front of the hearth and loaded his plate.

    After a long dinner, during which Hermione and Harry kept the conversation flowing as smoothly as possible, Hermione handed out the presents, making sure to add bossily that each was to be opened one at the time so everyone could see what the other had gotten.

    Sirius had gotten Harry a very nice broom servicing kit, (Bernard's Complete Broom Servicing Kit: Official kit of the Salisbury Slayers) complete with twig trimmers, a splinter sander, and handle polish.

    Hermione had gotten him a book, So you want to be an Auror?: A Wizard's Guide to Making the Grade by Eamon Merriweather, which when he'd opened it and faked extreme surprise, she'd scowled at him.

    James had found him a book as well, but it worked more as an interactive teaching hologram. When opened, A Guide to Advanced Fencing by Englehard Parry, showed two translucent characters suddenly popping from its pages and standing in attack position. Harry only needed to touch the written fencing move he wished to see with his wand, and the characters acted it out for him.

    "Thought you'd advanced far enough to use this in your spare time," added James with a smile as Harry thanked him.

    But while Sirius gave the fencing book a once over, checking out different moves with a touch of his wand, Hermione looking on, James slipped a small box with a card attached into Harry's hand. Harry looked at him quizzically, but James merely gave him a small nod and mouthed to him to pocket it and open it later.

    Harry'd gotten Hermione a beautiful silver bracelet at the new jewellery shop in Hogsmeade, Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. He'd made sure to set a deep blue star charm on it to similarly match the necklace he'd given her last year, and had enchanted it as well, but with a spell that would act as a mood ring for her, and tell her Harry's mood when she wore it and thought specifically of him. As she threw her arms round his neck, Sirius gave Harry a thumbs up behind her back. Harry grinned.

    Both James and Sirius had given her books, as neither of them could think of anything more perfectly suited, and she of course, loved them.

    James opened his presents as well, one from Harry and one from Hermione, and found, to his immense relief, that Sirius had decided not to get him anything the same as he had done. The situation was awkward enough, and both had apparently thought far enough ahead to consider how hard it might be to open a gift from the other.

    Sirius appeared equally relieved to have not received anything from James as he opened one of his two gifts, the largest of them all. It was a Muggle television, charmed somewhat illegally by Arthur Weasley earlier in the year to display every local channel it could get, and when turned to channel "0" to sound with the WWN. The gift was from both Harry and Hermione for him to take back to Grimmauld place so that he could stay aware of the goings on in the Muggle and wizarding world, and also to entertain him when he was bored out of his skull. Sirius was immensely grateful.

    However, as he opened his second gift and realised what it was, he was left speechless. Harry and Hermione had sat up all night a few weeks ago compiling as many old photos as they could find in the school of the Marauders and placing them carefully in an album. They had, of course, "scourgified" Peter Pettigrew from every picture making them a bit different than they had been originally, but Harry was sure Sirius didn't mind.

    The book had the desired effect. Harry saw James strain his neck far enough to see what Sirius was holding, and saw his eyes widen and begin to water. The image of a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and mischievously grinning James Potter, who had just picked up a struggling, scowling Lily Evans in his arms, yelled and waved silently at the camera. Lily finally succeeded in the next picture to punch James in the chest hard enough for him to drop her. While James wheezed and the others laughed, Lily smoothed her robes and hair and stood grinning and waving as well.

    James saw Sirius beginning to grin at the image and sat on the couch near him. "Remember that day, mate? Lily wouldn't speak to me for two days. Said I'd embarrassed her."

    "You were doing that all the time, weren't you?" said Sirius flipping the page and grinning at a picture Lupin had taken of he and James giving a low fly-by over his head during a Quidditch match.

    It had gotten late already, and Harry turned to Hermione who stood staring at the two with tears in her eyes. He winked covertly to her and she nodded.

    "We'll be right back," he said grabbing hold of Hermione's hand. "Just need to get something from the room." James gave him a small wave to let him know they'd heard him, his eyes still keenly focussed on the album.

    Harry led Hermione to her room and shut the door, both knowing full well they weren't planning to re-emerge until morning. He smiled and hugged Hermione to him in the dimly moonlit room, his own tears threatening to spill out over his cheeks. Sirius and James had just been given a way to finally open up to each other, although a bit underhandedly. He just hoped they would take advantage of it.

    Much later in the evening, when Hermione had fallen asleep on Harry's chest, he found himself still unable to sleep, thinking about the two most important men in his life out in the common room. He'd heard no yelling, no raising of voices, but perhaps that had more to do with the thick oak doors his and Hermione's rooms were furnished with rather than the actual conversation. He'd just been thinking to himself what a pleasant, uneventful holiday it'd been when he heard the tap of something hard against the glass of Hermione's window behind him.

    Instantly, Harry shoved his glasses back onto his face, grabbing onto Hermione with one arm and his wand with the other and pressing both of them as flat onto the bed as possible.

    But as he turned to peer at the window from between the thick parted scarlet canopy, he saw only a grey barn owl perched on the sill, its feathers puffed up from the cold, and a small scroll tied to its leg.

    "Harry," whispered Hermione sleepily as he made to rise from the bed. "What is it?"

    Harry replied quietly, pulling the thick quilt back over her shoulders. "Nothing love, just a post owl. I'll be back."

    Hermione nodded, a small frown creasing her face at the thought of a post owl delivery this late, but she'd fallen back to sleep before the thought could fully register in her head.

    Harry padded toward the window and opened it slowly, his wand still clutched in his hand. He untied the note and watched as the owl flapped its way back out into the night. Again, the note was powerfully sealed. Remembering the spell Hermione had used before, Harry pointed his wand at it, keeping near the window to use the moonlight for illumination.

    "Dilorico."

    The note unfurled instantly, and words began to form in an eerie red blazing scrawl, one that reminded him too well of the note he'd received last year concerning Hermione's abduction. His heartbeat quickened and he gripped his wand tighter, glancing over to make sure she was still safe in her bed.

    "Harry, you were warned..." the first words etched themselves. And as the rest began to form, Harry felt himself grow shaky with all of the repressed fear and anxiety he'd been saving up, knowing that eventually, something else was to happen.

    "The time draws near to meet our fates.

    The winds of change draw nigh.

    No time, no hope its much too late.

    The first are marked to die..."

**************************************************

• • Snowflakes fell gently on top of the precisely manicured lawn outside, the moonlight against the dark making them gleam as if sprinkled with glitter. But as Draco Malfoy sat sprawled in an expensive easy chair in front of a large domed window, his eyes dully following their journey toward the ground, he could find no beauty in it. His fathers house marred all that touched it. Nothing on these grounds could ever be considered a thing of beauty.

    "Master Malfoy," said a cowed voice from behind him, sounding a bit strange as if from lack of use.

    Draco sat up slowly and turned to see Marietta, the cook, eyeing him nervously as she wrung her hands.

    "Dinner is served…b..but, your father wishes you to meet him in his study for a moment. He says he has your Christmas present." Marietta gave him a hopeful smile as if she'd just informed Draco of his father trying to make a nice gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to be fooled.

    He nodded to her and she scurried away toward the kitchen to bring everything out to the table.

    Malfoy headed down the long marble hallway, somehow reminded of a death-row wizard taking his final stroll toward the room where he was to be dispensed of. But Lucius wasn't about to kill him…yet. He had too much for Draco to accomplish first, of that he was sure. Sorry you won't get the pleasure you trumped up pile of shit…

    He entered his father's study with his hands plunged deep into his robes. Lucius sat stiffly in a large leather chair facing the lit fireplace, a look of deep satisfaction smoothing the usual harsh lines in his face. Draco scanned the room and saw no wrapped boxes; nothing out of the ordinary. He began to immediately grow wary and took an involuntary step backward.

    "Be seated, Draco," said Lucius quietly, gesturing at an identical chair near him.

    Draco sat himself down slowly, perched on the edge of the seat as if prepared for instant flight if needed. "Marietta said you had something for me."

    "Indeed I do," said Lucius, the hint of malevolent satisfaction making chills creep up and down Draco's spine. He was just thinking to himself that he should've listened to his instinct and escaped this dungeon last night when, with a wave of Lucius' wand, the door behind him slammed shut and locked with a frighteningly secure click.

    Malfoy turned his wide gaze from the door toward his father and gripped the arms of the chair so hard his fingernails broke the soft leather.

    "Father," his voice sounded cold even to him. "What's this about?"

    "I told you last night some changes were in order," said Lucius softly with a small smile. A hot log in the hearth gave a particularly loud crack and Draco fought the urge to jump at the sudden noise.

    "When I'd heard of your…dealings…with the Weasley witch from Nott, I knew my decision was the correct one," continued Lucius. "I believe Dumbledore thinks he can draw some sort of…misguided good…from you, thus your inclusion into the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Therefore, you could be one of the essential elements in his undoing, and consequently in reinforcing the dark lord's new movement. Therefore, we can't have you influenced by any of the bleeding-heart idiots at school who don't understand where the true power lies."

    Draco tensed. "Father, I told you…She meant nothing to me…just another whore…"

    Lucius stood. The look of intense determination in his father's eyes was what did it for Draco. Lucius wasn't hearing him. Whatever he'd decided to do, he wasn't going to turn from it, no matter what his son said.

    There was no time for more thought or planning. In an instant Draco's fingers had curled round his wand and he'd whipped it out toward his father.

    "Petrificus Totalus!" The spell hit him directly in the chest.

    Draco did not wait to watch the results, he whirled toward the door and bellowed "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, but the second his hand reached the knob something hit him from behind.

    "Immobulus!"

    Draco bashed into the door and fell with a limp thud to the hardwood floor, his eyes squinted hard shut against the pain shooting through his head. He eyes were the only thing still able to move.

    Lucius Malfoy calmly strode over to his son and dragged him back up onto his chair.

    "Ah Draco," he sneered, only a bit out of breath and holding his wand steadily on him. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't prepare myself for just such an eventuality? Shield charms are easy to conjure. I'd hoped you'd decided to continue in the ways of our lord, but unfortunately, as you've now made it quite clear, you've already been tainted by Dumbledore and those who believe in him. You've given me no choice but to force loyalty upon you, I'm afraid. And I'd so hoped we could do this the easy way. Ah well, such is life..."

    Although his face was frozen, on the inside, Draco was screaming. Bastard! Son of a bitch! Oh god, he's going to do it…oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod…

    Lucius bent down and carefully, calmly rolled up the left sleeve of Draco's robe, watching his sons eyes narrow hatefully as he spied his golden hand.

    "After I'm done I must return to our master," he said almost conversationally. "He's expecting me. Udolphus will take you back to King's Cross when it comes time for your return to school."

    Oh god…ohmygod don't let this happen to me…

    "By way of explanation," continued Lucius as he straightened up once again and towered over his son's prone form. "From now on, you will feel the master's draw. When he calls, the mark will burn, as I’m sure you've already seen. Of course, you won't be expected to give response until after you've done with school, at which time you will immediately join in his service. With this mark, the dark lord has access to your feelings and emotions. If he is focussing on you at the time, he will sense any feelings of betrayal, and mark my words Draco, you will be found and dealt with accordingly."

    Son of a bitch…you great son of a bitch…I hope you rot in hell…

    Lucius raised his wand, ironically held by the huge golden hand. Draco determined not to show fear in his eyes.

    "Be cheered son," said Lucius, smiling coldly. "Receiving the mark is a great honour. Morsmordre!"

    Immediately after, Lucius disapparated with a loud crack.

    And as the mark burned his skin, etching even down into his muscle the brand of Voldemort, silent screams echoed through Draco's head, who now felt as if his soul had been branded as well. Unclean…unclean…

    Some half an hour later, when a shaking, white-faced Marietta had finally been allowed to remove the curse and help him to the table, Draco sat completely alone at the end of it, surrounded by row upon row of Christmas dishes. They steamed hot, all of his favourites, but his mouth was too dry to eat. Even if he'd been able to force any of it down, Draco wasn't sure it would stay there. The long opulent table screamed of emptiness as he stared down it, wondering what it might be like to have others there with him. But even if he could at this moment, he would turn them away. He was tainted. Dirty. He was now, truly a Malfoy.

    "Happy Christmas Draco," he whispered to no one at all.

    *************************************************

A/N: So sorry for the tremendously long wait, but it’s a really long chapter so I hope that makes up for it some! Cheers! Bama

28. Chapter 28: Marked

• • • • Chapter 28: Marked
        

    Harry jerked awake next morning not quite sure when exactly it had been that he'd fallen asleep. Hermione was moulded closely to him, her warm cheek pressed against his chest, chestnut hair half concealing her face, and her arm thrown peacefully round his waist. He realised he must've fallen asleep with his arms and legs wrapped tightly about her, and in waking, still felt the urge to keep her securely against him, though the steady rise and fall of her breathing seemed to calm him a bit.

    After having received the threatening note last night, Harry had stood guard at the window for some time, his wary gaze travelling back and forth from the sleeping form of Hermione to the darkness and white-blanketed grounds outside. The moonlight filtering through the clouds and shining down on the snow had made the otherwise black night almost luminescent, and he'd been grateful for the advantage.

    For two solid hours he had fought drowsiness and stood rigidly watching, and though he rarely needed it anymore, he had kept his wand clutched tightly in hand, his eyes keenly searching the grounds for any sign of movement. Though he knew Dumbledore had tripled the strong wards and protections round the school, the memory of Hermione being swept right from Hogwarts' grounds last year haunted his mind constantly.

    In fact, it had been the sound of her crying out from another nightmare that had finally brought him back to bed. He'd decided quickly to place a protective ward on the door and window, and then had crawled back under the covers with her, gathering her to him and stroking her hair until she finally fell back into a peaceful sleep.

    For hours it seemed he'd lain awake holding her, adamantly willing his protection around her and wishing for the life of him that he could protect all others Voldemort might harm as well. He was anxious to figure out who the dark lord had marked to attack, and the thought of sending warning owls first thing next morning was his last one as sleep finally dulled the sharp edges of his mind and lulled him under. Once again that night, as so many times before, Harry dreamed of he, Hermione and Ron dying at the hands of Voldemort and his followers.

    The heavy scarlet drapes began charming themselves open as the sun hit them fully not more than four hours later, and Harry, fully awake and once again lost in anxious thoughts, watched a bright white beam spread over he and Hermione like another quilt. He felt Hermione begin to stir beside him and tilted his gaze down toward her, deciding at once not to alarm her with news that he had begun dreaming the same horrifying dream on a regular basis. Besides, it was bad enough what he did have to tell her.

    Hermione breathed a long sigh and opened her eyes with a squint from the sunlight, as completely rested from a full night of sleep as Harry was not. She looked up with a smile at him, but immediately noticed his grim expression.

    "Harry…how long've you been awake? What's wrong?"

    Harry hesitated a moment and then sat up running a hand down his face and back up through his messy hair. Hermione noticed his bloodshot eyes and frowned concerned at him.

    "You don't look as if you got any sleep. Did you?"

    Harry sighed. "A bit. Listen, love…d'you remember the post owl that came last night?"

    Hermione eyed him. "Not exactly…"

    " I don't wonder; you were half asleep," Harry replied wearily. He leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the note from the floor and handed it to her. "Here, read it."

    Her eyes flew over the short note and a look of horror quickly stole onto Hermione's face. She turned her gaze back to Harry. "Oh no…oh my god, Harry…"

    "The bastard's finally ready to attack and I can't do a bloody thing to stop it," said Harry in angry frustration. "Only thing I know to do is send a post to everyone we figure he might immediately target. It'll be someone close I think, someone who'll make a first impact…on me especially." He sighed and again clawed a hand through his hair. "Of course my first thought was to contact the Ministry, but it's not as if they'd take it seriously what with them determined to stay ignorant about his return."

    (A/N: I started this story pre-OotP so in my story the fight at the Ministry, Sirius' death, and Fudge finding out he was wrong all this time never took place.)

    "No they wouldn't." Hermione shook her head, her eyes again glued to the glowing red words as if she might somehow glean more information from them. "They'd only make more trouble for you and Professor Dumbledore. They won't believe Voldemort's back until it's proven he's done something, I’m afraid. But I think you're right; we should send warning owls."

    Harry paused and turned more toward her, taking her by the arms and gazing gently at her, dreading his next words. "Look…love, I don't mean to scare you, but…but I think we should send one to your parents as well."

    Stunned, Hermione shot a fearful gaze at Harry and quickly grabbed his hands. "My parents!? Harry, you don't actually think he would attack them!? He knows the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government share information…if he was caught harming Muggles, law enforcement would contact the Ministry immediately! And remember what Bellatrix Lestrange said to you? She basically said Voldemort wouldn't risk having himself seen by the Ministry and give up the cover they're ignorantly providing! He'd be out in the open; no longer able to move in secret! There's no way he wants that!"

    Harry put a gentle hand to her face and spoke in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Things change, love. If he's moving toward a final war maybe he thinks it's time everyone finally chose sides. Maybe now, it's exactly what he wants."

    Panic began to pound Hermione's heart relentlessly hard against her chest. She was normally a very calm witch, able to stay cool and think logically in times of stress. But if Voldemort was trying to draw Harry out as his note would indicate, and he did decide to target Muggles, the loss of his girlfriend's parents would be a sure way of affecting Harry.

    "It's not certain who he'll target yet, love." Harry said as gently and reassuring as he could. "As for him attacking Muggles, I dunno if he'd do it himself or use Death Eaters…or possibly send Dementors again. Remember what happened to me fifth year in Little Whinging? What if Umbridge was working for him like you, Ron and I think she was? And if Voldemort was behind her sending Dementors after me, in Muggle England, I don't see what would stop him doing something like it again. His goal has always been to purge the wizarding world of half-bloods, but I'm certain now he's decided to broaden his horizons. I think he's just mad enough to want run of the whole world, and that would include ridding himself of Muggles as well. We want to be sure to warn everyone we can think of, don't we? "

    Harry felt a pang of regret run through his chest at the stricken look on Hermione's face. A few warm tears rolled down her cheek and he reached a hand up to thumb them gently away, pulling her to him.

    "It's alright love," he whispered. "We'll just owl them straight away. It's all we can do for now."

    Hermione pulled away from him for a moment and gave him a determined look. "It's not all we can do. Harry, I want you to listen to me for a moment…"

    Harry frowned, slightly puzzled, but nodded for her to continue.

    "We need to tell Dumbledore on this one," said Hermione firmly. "No arguments, Harry. This goes far beyond your being too old for his advice. He needs to know about this."

    To Hermione's surprise, Harry agreed with her at once. "I know love, you're right. It's not just my life we're dealing with anymore. I'm going to tell him this morning after we've sent the posts and had breakfast. But I have a favour to ask of you."

    Hermione gazed at him. "You know you can ask me anything."

    Harry nodded. "I don't want Sirius knowing about this. He's still not safe with the Ministry and I know he won't go back to Grimmauld Place if he finds out Voldemort's about to strike. Especially if he knows I'm being sent bloody notices beforehand."

    "I understand," said Hermione. "But Harry, you yourself said once the war begins there'll be no stopping him …"

    "I know," said Harry grimly. "And I still believe that. But I don't want to know something I did or let him in on got him sent back to Azkaban or… or worse. I couldn't live with myself. I want him alive and safe as long as possible…Maybe that's selfish, huh?"

    It was Hermione's turn to gaze gently at him and she took his hand in hers, noting the familiar worn look on his face. She knew how heavily the lives of everyone Harry knew and loved weighed on him; knew the colossal burden he carried day after day, and knew he blamed himself for the deaths that had already taken place, though he shouldn't. She also knew what an enormous heart Harry had beating inside his chest, a heart she loved more than any other in the world.

    She stood from the bed and began rummaging for clothes for the walk down to the Owlery. Harry turned his back as she dressed and she did the same for him. She took his hand as they made to exit her room and turned him to her for a moment more.

    "You're a wonderful man Harry, and I love you. Never forget that."

    As Harry kissed her and hugged her closely to him, the thought entered his mind that she might feel a bit differently when even more began to die for the immense hatred Voldemort had for him. It was inevitable; he knew they would. It was only a matter of who, and when.

    So Harry lived for today…and today, Hermione Granger loved him.

    He'd long before given up hoping for the future. Within the life of the boy-who-lived only one black certainty stood out amongst all of the uncertain: Harry Potter was never promised tomorrow.

    **********************************************

    Aunt Petunia,

    I'm sure this is a shock to you hearing from me

    during school, but I've just got some bad news as of late and

    thought I should warn you. Voldemort is on the move again.

    I've addressed this to you Aunt Petunia as you know

    what I'm on about when I mention him. He'll be looking to

    strike at those he thinks I'm close to, or in your Case, one's

    who provide me with any type of protection. I'm sure you

    remember Professor Dumbledore chose to leave me with

    you and Uncle Vernon because you're my mother's sister and

    having the same blood, I'm protected with you in your house.

    • • Come graduation, I'll be moving out and you won't have anything more to worry on, but in the meantime, watch yourselves.

    Harry

    Ron's letter was decidedly more warm, though Harry couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed of it. He had done his duty in warning the Dursley's, but he had never felt anything but profound dislike for them. He probably never would, he supposed, but then again, he was sure the feeling was mutual.

    Ron,

    • • How are you? Hope you're having a happy Christmas so far.

        I hope Percy decided to show though I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. I hope it wasn't too hard on your Mum and Dad, though I expect they've got used to it, haven't they? Tell Gred and Forge I can't wait to see their shop and I expect a good return on my investment. (But for the love of Merlin don't say it in front of Molly.)

        Mate, I hate to bring you bad news during holiday, but I needed to warn you and the rest of the family. While Hermione and I were at Hogsmeade a few days ago I got a rather strange note. It read: "in two days time you shall receive the first." I'm pretty sure it was referring to the note I got last night round midnight at Hermione's window.

    I've written it out for you:

    • • "The time draws near to meet our fates.

        The winds of change draw nigh.

        No time, no hope its much too late.

        The first are marked to die..."

        I'm sure you know who it's from. There's no way to know who he's targeted first, but I wanted you warned. I'm certain Voldemort would love to hurt anyone close to me. Warn everyone to keep a close watch out, and please tell your dad to notify the Order, though I'm sure as soon as we've gone to him, Dumbledore will do it as well. Also mate, please make sure to tell your father not to let Sirius in on it. I think you know why.

        You and Ginny keep watch for anything suspicious on your way back to the castle. I mean it Ron, watch your back. Hermione and I will see you two in a week. Take care, mate.

        Harry

        *****************

    Though Harry's words had calmed Hermione somewhat, she still composed the letter to her parents with a shaky hand. As she wrote, horror filled thoughts continued to assault her brain; images of her parents laid out dead in their home, her house destroyed, even neighbours and their children she'd grown up with flashed dead and mangled in her mind, their glassy, lifeless eyes staring accusatorily through her. She shuddered and tried to shove the images away as she continued.

    • • Dear Mum and Dad,

        I hope you're having a happy Christmas so far. Harry and I had a wonderful one with his father and godfather. I think Harry's made real progress with his father, (as I explained before) and it seems as if his godfather and James will be able to become friends again. At least, Harry and I are hoping so. We left them last night talking and reminiscing on old times, and I hope it'll get them thinking on what their friendship is all about.

        Mum, Dad…It's hard for me to write this next bit in a letter, but as I have no other way of talking to you right now, it's necessary. I've been honest with you for some time now about Harry, on what happened to him when he was a baby, and on the dark wizard who's been after him. For a while now we've not heard anything from him, but last night, Harry received a message we're certain is from Voldemort or one of his followers. It basically stated that he's targeted someone. Before you start worrying I want to let you know that on Hogwarts grounds, as always, we're safe. But neither of you are. It makes sense Voldemort might decide to attack those he hates most, and you being Muggles and my parents makes you a likely target.

        I would like very much to know you're safe…perhaps for a while you could go stay with Grandmother or leave on an extended vacation? Please find somewhere else to stay until I've let you know the danger is over, and please try not to worry over me too much. And before you decide to owl me back, know that I have no intentions of leaving Hogwarts, or Harry. I love him, but you know that. I'm safe here and Harry watches me like a snitch; he never lets me out from his sight. Please owl back a reply soon as you receive this. I won't be able to rest until I know you're safe.

        All my love, Hermione

After having received the owl the night before, Harry had decided it

• • would be better if they sent any messages via the floo network since it seemed

    pretty certain Voldemort would be watching the owl posts. So he and Hermione watched their hearth as the green flames rushed each letter to its destination, their hearts hanging heavier than they had done for a long time.

******************

• • Unbeknownst to Harry and Hermione, they had not been the only ones so late the Friday night before to receive mail.

    On his bed in the Slytherin boy's dorms, Draco Malfoy sat rigidly staring into nothingness, the curtains of his four poster shut tight around him both to ward off the early morning sunshine and the prying eyes of any other awake dorm mates. His pale skin seemed even paler within the dimly lit hideaway he'd fashioned for himself. Purple circles had smudged themselves under his steely grey eyes as a way of reminding him he had not slept. The parchment he kept crushed in his fist had the wrinkled, slightly grubby appearance of having been read and then re-crumpled over and over again.

    He should have expected it. Lucius had not given him the dark mark for no reason; he'd had plans for him all along, even for the five or so short months he had left at Hogwarts.

    Draco miserably lifted a hand to the mark his father had given him as a 'gift' over Christmas and rubbed the still smarting area. Lucius had made it quite plain he and his damnable 'master' wanted Draco to act as a spy, and to use Ginny to better do it.

    Voldemort would know if he didn't do what his father had instructed him to in the letter, he knew… If only he were skilled at Occlumency like Professor Snape or even Scarhead for the matter…

    He didn't give a damn about Potter or any of his drooling fans, nor any more what his father and Voldemort did, or did not find out about them. The one thing he did care about concerning anything Gryffindor however, was Ginny Weasley. What he decided to divulge to Lucius, and therefore Voldemort, could and would have direct consequence on her, and that above all was the one thing that most plagued him.

    For what seemed the tenth time since he'd received it, Draco again unrumpled the letter and smoothed it out before him, reading the glowing red words as morosely as if they were a eulogy for his own funeral.

    To Draco himself, they might as well have been.

    • • • • Draco,

          I trust by now you've made it back to Hogwarts.

          I would have done before, but I am writing you now to give you instruction, having just now received it for you from the dark lord.

          As you are by now aware, our lord is no longer able to directly access Potter's thoughts and emotions, nor is the blood traitor able to access his in turn, as he has effectively shut them out.

          Though he is still capable of reaching him through dreams, our lord wishes to know what Potter is thinking and planning, as well as any thoughts or plans from Dumbledore. You are to watch both of them carefully Draco; shadow Potter and Dumbledore as much as you are able. Listen to every conversation you can; and though you are from a different house, stay as close as possible and glean information. Although there is already at Hogwarts one a bit closer to Potter who is now spying for us, our lord believes he cannot have too many of his loyal infiltrating our enemies.

          For this reason I have discussed with our lord your previous involvement with the young Weasley witch. He feels, as I now do, that you will be of better assistance if you resume your relationship with her. She will be able to unwittingly provide you with information concerning Potter and his friends, as well as any dealings with Dumbledore she may have heard from them. Our lord wishes you to accomplish this straight away. And, I shall add of my own accord Draco; you are not to develop any type of emotion toward the whore. She is nothing more than a means to an end and when the time comes, she will be destroyed along with the rest of our master's enemies.

          Lord Voldemort will very soon be fulfilling the warning Potter has just received from him, and has many more plans to rid himself and those faithful to him of the mudbloods and Muggle filth that taint our world.

          Finally Draco, I will warn you yet again. If for any reason you decide to defy our lord and master, he will sense it straight away, and you will be done away with. Neither he, nor myself, have any tolerance for traitors.

          Second in command to his majesty,

          Lucius Malfoy

    'Our lord'… 'his majesty'… Bullshit.

    Once again Draco crumpled the note in his fist. His face blotched scarlet with rage, while at the same time his stomach gave a nauseating churn of fear. He would no sooner use Ginny and then give her over to be killed than slice his own throat, and yet here Lucius was commanding him to do just that.

    Not for the first time in his young life, Draco was forced yet again to think desperately for a way out from between a rock and the proverbial hard place.

    • • **************************************************

    Christmas holidays came and went more quickly than Harry or Hermione could have imagined, and though the remainder of them were spent in a state of extreme unease, nothing was heard from the Ministry of Magic or Muggle law enforcement that seemed to point toward Voldemort.

    The morning of January first Sirius flooed himself back to Grimmauld Place, carrying back with him a pocketful of shrunken presents and belongings. To Harry and Hermione's great surprise, he hugged James goodbye as well as them although a bit awkwardly, and promised to keep in touch through Dumbledore. The smile on James' face as his friend left told Harry far more than words could have done how well his and Sirius' talk had gone over.

    Far too soon, Harry and Hermione found themselves faced with the renewed prospect of N.E.W.T. level classes and returning students pounding the silent halls of the school awake once again. In fact, late next afternoon, it was as if the quiet had never been. Around five o'clock the great double doors of the school slammed open, and hundreds of talking laughing students began pouring inside carrying smaller bags and presents and leaving their trunks on the outside carriages to be apparated in later by the house elves. Within school grounds only the house elves were able to apparate anything, it seemed.

    Ron met Harry and Hermione for dinner in the Great Hall an hour later, looking quite a bit less carefree after holiday than he had done last year. He plopped himself down heavily opposite Harry and Hermione and between Seamus Finnegan and Colin Creevey, who if possible, seemed paler and even more withdrawn than he had done even before holiday. Ron made sure both Colin and Seamus were engaged in other conversations before favouring his two best friends with a grim smile. His first words to them upon returning were about the warning Harry had sent him, and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised.

    " 'Lo mates…any news yet?" He asked quietly as he grabbed two turkey legs and heaped a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

    Harry shook his head dourly and filled his plate as well, plucking a roll from a basket nearby. "Not a bit and it's frustrating as hell. Dumbledore's got Kingsley Shacklebolt among the Ministry Aurors keeping an ear out for news, and of course he's got his regular connections with the Muggle network."

    Ron nodded. "Mum and Dad were in a right state when Ginny and I read them your letter. Dad's already cast about three dozen protective charms over the Burrow but Bill and Charlie'll be over until around January fifteenth, so Mum feels a bit safer, I think. But she's half nutters over you, mate. Thinks you'll be safer with wizards than Muggles when time comes to leave school, especially what with the Dementors attacking you a couple of years ago. She said f Voldemort's still running about come graduation, she'll have you at the Burrow than back with the Dursley's no matter what Dumbledore says. Besides she hates them anyway, the sods…"

    "I know she does," Harry smiled fondly. "But if that does happen, I'll be out on my own by then, won't I? I'll be getting my own flat."

    Harry missed Hermione suddenly shifting her eyes downward at the table at his words as he was still focussed on Ron.

    Ron goggled at him. "Bloody hell…I suppose you will…and so will I once I get the money for it! I still can't believe it's our last year." He sat still for a moment staring blankly through Lavender who was talking with Parvarti a few spaces down the table until he remembered what he'd been just about to say. His gaze moved back to Harry and Hermione.

    "Dumbledore's already met with the Order and put them on triple alert. Has them set out in different places all along Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even undercover in some Muggle areas. Did you know?"

    "I'm not surprised," said Harry evenly looking toward Hermione. "He's always right on top of things isn't he?"

    "Yes he is," said Hermione quietly.

    Ron angled closer to them and continued, but in a much quieter tone. He could've sworn he'd seen Colin leaning into their conversation a bit over his plate of turkey. "And you don't have to worry about Sirius, mate. Dumbledore's already warned the Order to keep quiet near him. He's as worried about him getting involved and being seen as you are."

    Harry nodded, feeling some of the heavy, invisible weight slip from his shoulders. "Well, Sirius is helping in a way though he doesn't really know it, what with him now able to watch Muggle news."
    

    Ron quickly shot he and Hermione an incredulous look. "What'd you mean watch Muggle news!?" He hissed out. "You mean he's out running about with them waiting to see if something bloody happens!? Has he gone completely nutters!?"

    Hermione rolled her eyes at him until she remembered Ron had no idea about television. It had been one of the few things Arthur Weasley had yet to get his hands on. She grabbed his arm before he could begin to rant even louder and attract attention.

    "No Ron, of course not. Harry and I gave him a television set for Christmas. It's a box that transmits information to you much like the WWN does; only with pictures. He'll be able to see if anything important happens; maybe even before the Ministry finds out depending on how quickly the Muggles report it to them."

    Harry nodded. "It's the one thing I'm afraid of. But Sirius wouldn't stay ignorant forever; he'd find some way of getting information whether or not he had the television. In any case, Muggle reporters are quick with their news."

    "Bugger me…" Ron goggled at them, showing Hermione a mouthful of turkey and potatoes before he swallowed. "Well I guess they are quick what with having those fellytones to communicate with and such."

    "Telephones," corrected Hermione.

    "Tha's wha' I said," said Ron around a mouthful of roll.

    "No you didn't Ron, you said…" began Hermione before a quick nudge and subtle shake of Harry's head reminded her that it was useless to argue with him further.

    Hermione sighed, disappointed. She felt somehow unfulfilled when she wasn't allowed to correct a glaring mistake.

    *************************************************

    Ginny passed Hermione, Harry and Ron next afternoon on her way from a gruelling sixth year potions, realising too late that the next class in line was seventh year double potions with the Slytherin. She'd only had a moment to nod to Hermione who, right before entering Snape's classroom had mouthed to her that she wanted to talk later, before she ran almost headfirst into the brick wall visage of Vincent Crabbe, shadowed by the even larger, Gregory Goyle.

    "Watch where you're going Gryffinwhore," Crabbe growled out menacingly. Behind him, Goyle snickered dumbly.

    "What'd you just call me!?" Ginny reddened, her breath coming in short furious pants.

    Theodore Nott, who'd just passed the group backed up with a gleeful expression and cackled. "Listen at this, mates. She acts as if she hasn't heard it before… I know I haven't banged her, but I’m willing to give it a go Weasley, if you're up for it. From what I hear, you always are."

    Ginny swept her hand guilefully under her robes and wrapped her fingers tightly round her wand, her eyes blazing violently. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was still a virgin for Godric's sake and even if she wasn't, there was no way in bloody hell she'd give herself to a Slytherin. Well…there'd only ever been one she'd considered before, but that was apparently over. Ginny forced those thoughts away and smiled grimly. Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had her beat as far as largeness was concerned, but she knew her skill with the wand far surpassed theirs.

    "Blow it out your shorts you bloody mong," she hissed at Nott whipping out her wand too quickly for any of them to reply. "I don't know where you three get your information, but I wouldn't sleep with you or any other Slytherin for the matter if you paid me all the gold in Gringotts! Now I suggest we all get along to class before I decide to rearrange your arses with your heads...assuming that hasn't already been done."

    Nott and Goyle made a motion to move forward, but a sudden glance over the top of Ginny's head quickly made them think otherwise and they slowly backed off. To save face, Nott merely shrugged his shoulders disaffectedly and re-shouldered his books once again.

    "Whatever you say Weasley. We've all heard how you like to rip up the sheets with any bloke who'll have you. It's quite pathetic, really," he chuckled poisonously with a sudden nasty glance behind her. Crabbe and Goyle laughed aloud. Ginny gaped at them but still made no move to turn round and see what they were all staring at. Nott continued. "But I have heard poorer witches can climb their way higher up the rich social ladder if they'll just shag the right wizard. Guess you're just giving them all a good test run, aye? How 'bout it Gryffinwhore…up for doing a train?"

    Ginny inhaled sharply and made to scream out a reply but was given no chance to. Someone behind her, a someone with a very familiar deep voice suddenly roared ferociously and charged past her.

    "Son of a bitch! I'll rip you in half!"

    Draco Malfoy was a blur of blonde hair and black school robes as he threw down his books, pounded past her, and launched himself at Nott. Both crashed hard to the floor. His fists began pounding into him wherever they could, and Nott, severely startled at an attack coming from the usually cool Malfoy, finally gained enough wits about him to begin to fight back. Ginny squealed in fright and began to approach them yelling, before Draco shouted at her and shot a hand out to shove her roughly back.

    "NO! Stay the hell out of it, Red!"

    Nott took that moment to land a hard punch to Malfoy's jaw. He immediately returned it, along with an answering punch to the gut. The sounds of shouting and cursing quickly sent the whole of seventh year potions racing excitedly out from the classroom and into the halls, yelling wildly and punching fists in the air despite Professor Snape barking loudly for them to stay put while he went to investigate. A good fight livened up any class, especially a dreadful N.E.W.T. level Potions.

    Snape shoved through the throng now surrounding Draco and Theodore, bulldozing students out of the way and nearly knocking Harry to the ground. Harry snarled at him as he passed, and pushed Hermione behind him to keep her from an errant flying limb or fist. She narrowly missed falling into Colin Creevey. As always, he stood toward the back of the fray to garner the least amount of attention, his face a picture of misery.

    "Bloody hell," exhaled Ron loudly as he gaped at the two young men scrambling to beat each other senseless. Draco gave another furious roar at something Nott said and hammered his fist into Theodore's kidney, baring his teeth and bleeding from his nose and lip like a feral animal. Beside Ron, Lavender gave him a poke in the ribs.

    "Not now Lav. This's getting good," said Ron keeping his eyes glued to the scuffle.

    "Ron," hissed Lavender in an annoyed tone. "Look at your sister!"

    Ron whirled to eye Lavender at once. "Ginny? Where!?"

    Lavender rolled her eyes at him and pointed toward the very front of the crowd opposite him. Ron strained to peer past Snape, who was now grabbing at both boys and trying without success to pry them apart. Ginny stood dwarfed by a couple of cheering seventh year Gryffindor boys, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. A few tears stole down her cheeks as she watched the fight.

    "Wha…" began Ron, flabbergasted. "What the bloody hell is she doing here!? She's supposed to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

    Lavender clucked her tongue impatiently at him. "Well I suppose you might find that out by going over and asking her while Professor Snape is busy, mightn't you?"

    Ron merely nodded, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and threaded his way through the crowd toward his sister. But as he neared her, it became quite clear from the look she shot him that she was by no means in the mood for explaining herself.

    "Ginny…why aren't you…"began Ron above the din.

    "I don't want to talk about it," Ginny closed her eyes briefly and shot him a warning look. "Just leave me alone, Ron…please."

    Ron looked as if it was beyond his better judgement to do so, but having been on the receiving end of Ginny's temper too many times before, he merely nodded at her, puzzled, and headed back toward Harry and Hermione, who was looking Ginny's way with concern.

    
    

    Snape finally realised he wasn't going to be able to yank the two fighting boys apart physically. Furiously, he snatched his wand from his robes and bellowed out a spell.

    "Difflare!"

    Draco and Theodore were immediately shoved apart by an unseen hand and thrown opposite each other to the floor, breathing heavily.

    For his part, Draco seemed the less scathed of the two. His normally slick blonde hair fell wildly abound his head, and a cut near his eye dribbled blood down his face, as well as a deeper one on his lip, already beginning to swell. Harry could see a large reddened area on one cheek that would likely be turning into a great purple bruise. His robes were dusty and ripped in places, one sleeve almost completely torn off and his prefects badge now hanging from his tattered robes by only a torn shred of material. The cut and nicked swollen knuckles of his right hand showed obvious signs of recent hard use.

    The most obvious place they'd been used was Nott's face. One already small brown eye was already swollen shut, and his nose bled freely from both nostrils. When he turned to the side to spit a mouthful of blood and saliva on the floor, much to Parvarti and Lavender's disgust, Harry could swear he heard a tooth clatter to the floor along with it. His robes were equally ripped, tattered and dirty from the castle floor. He seemed to be reeling a bit as well, no doubt from some of the well placed blows to the head he had received from Malfoy, who was now standing as still as a stone wall opposite him and glaring at him with a snarling face full of hatred.

    Breathing heavily, Nott coughed and again spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor, glaring at Malfoy with a completely gobsmacked expression. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Draco!? She's a Gryffindor for Salazar's sake! I was only telling the truth! I didn't deserve any of that shit! I didn't do anything wrong!"

    "NEITHER DID SHE!" Draco bellowed in reply, swiping at his mouth with a torn sleeve and beginning to stomp forward again. Harry quickly strode out from the crowd and snatched Draco's left arm before Draco suddenly hissed in pain and yanked it furiously from his grasp. Harry fixed him with a hard look of warning and shook his head slightly at him.

    "Don't touch me, Potter." Malfoy glared at him rigidly, his gaze full of hatred…and something else Harry couldn't define.

    Puzzlement washed over Harry's features before he spoke up roughly. "Leave it. You're in enough trouble as it is."

    " 'Leave it'…right. You're one to talk," snorted Malfoy spitefully.

    "So," began Nott again with an ugly sneer. Snape was currently distracted snapping loudly at students to return to the classroom. "You lied then…all to throw daddy off your trail, no doubt. What would he do if he knew his son'd gone soft?"

    Before he realised what he was doing, Draco absently raised a hand to touch his left bicep. Nott's eyes flickered down to the hand and then back up in an instant; his jaw falling open with sudden realisation. He spoke again in an awed whisper.

    "What's he already done?"

    A flash of alarm suddenly passed over Malfoy's face and he dropped the hand quickly. Harry glanced at the two, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as if the answer to something he hadn't even asked a question to was just out of his reach. But Malfoy was spared a reply by Snape, who suddenly reappeared from his classroom to stomp between the two boys.

    "Silence!" He hissed out furiously.

    Most of the other students had already retreated from Snape's fury to the relative safety of the classroom, including Crabbe and Goyle who'd slunk away earlier like a couple of fat, oily snakes. Only Harry, Malfoy, Nott, and Ginny, who was still gazing at Malfoy with a mixture of hurt and scepticism, remained behind.

    Snape approached the four looking by all accounts like a greasy black panther stalking its prey. He circled them menacingly until his eyes fell on Harry.

    "Potter," he drawled, eyeing Harry through narrowed, hateful eyes. "What do you have to do with all of this…"

    Harry gaped at him. It was obvious he'd shown up same time everyone else had. "Not a thing."

    "You don't honestly think I believe you," Snape snarled. "You're far too arrogant for your own good, as usual. You'll be serving detention this weekend along with Malfoy and Nott."

    "What!?" Harry bellowed furiously, his hands closing into fists. "I had nothing to do with this and you know it! I showed up same time as all the others! Besides Gryffindor has a game on Saturday!"

    Snape favoured him with a scheming smile. Malfoy glanced from one to the other, offering nothing but blank detachment, but Ginny decided to speak up.

    "Professor Snape I've been here the whole time…Harry had nothing to do with it; in fact he stopped Malfoy attacking Nott again."

    Snape smirked coldly and kept his eyes on Harry. "Then detention for existing, Potter. Now get to class."

    Bloody hell… Harry flushed, looked very much as if he would like to wrap his hands round Snape's throat and squeeze until his eyeballs popped out. He shot the Professor a look of purest loathing, which had a much greater effect on Snape than it had ever done before since Harry was now almost taller than he. Snape wrapped his fingers round his wand, mentally begging Potter to do anything to give him reason to blast him, but Harry merely scowled at him and entered the classroom.

    Looking thoroughly satisfied with himself, Snape turned his attention back toward the remaining three, his gaze piercing them once again. He turned toward Ginny first. "Ms. Weasley…last I checked you'd not graduated to seventh year potions; in fact, I'm most certain none of the Weasleys will ever make it to a N.E.W.T. level class. Therefore I'm inclined to ask what you think you are doing here."

    Ginny alternated glaring from him to the others and opening and closing her mouth as she fished for a plausible excuse.

    "As I thought," sneered Snape. "I suggest you get out from my sight and to your next class."

    Ginny wanted to have to explain the situation about as much as she wanted to be hexed with boils, so with a last betrayed glance toward Draco, she mutely turned on her heel and headed down the empty hallway. Draco watched her go, his expression carefully neutral. When she had turned the corner out of sight, Snape turned his wrath on the final two students remaining in the hallway.

    "I WILL NOT tolerate behaviour of this nature from my own house; grappling about on the floor like some excitable, asinine Gryffindor…" he seethed contemptuously. He narrowed his eyes angrily at Malfoy, "Especially from a Slytherin PREFECT."

    Again Malfoy stared at Snape, blankly unaffected. Nott opened his mouth to speak but Snape whirled nastily toward him. "NOT..A..WORD. I don't want to know what started this little melee; I couldn't care less. But be forewarned… If my class is ever interrupted as such by either of you two ever again, Slytherin or not, I'll have you expelled."

    He whirled from them, striding inside and obviously expecting them to follow. Nott shot Malfoy a filthy look and made to head inside as well, but Malfoy stepped in front of him, piercing him with steely grey eyes. When he spoke his voice was low and very even.

    "If I hear you speak about Ginny Weasley like that ever again, I'll tear you apart."

    Nott wanted to point out that he'd got the rumour from reliable sources; that he'd got Ginny's reputation from none other than Draco Malfoy's very own father; his son's words passed on as a joke to Theodore's father during a Death Eaters meeting as a way of once again insulting the Weasley family. But something in the way Malfoy looked at him kept him silent.

    As Theodore stepped around him to head into the classroom, Malfoy following, it occurred to him that Draco had finally chosen his side, and it most certainly did not seem to be the same Lucius Malfoy or most of the other Slytherins had chose.

    Nott smiled grimly as he dumped himself into a seat and licked another droplet of blood absently from his lips. Draco might soon enough find out just how dangerous wrong choices could be; although it seemed he might have already done just that…

    ***********************************************

    Surprisingly enough for Harry, Hermione and Ron, double Potions class went just as it did any other day that afternoon, with Snape either ignoring them as usual, or finding any excuse he could to belittle a Gryffindor, no matter who it was. He had never been particularly fussy about his victims unless it concerned Harry Potter.

    As the three headed out from the classroom and towards Advanced DADA, surrounded by fifty or so Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years who couldn't stop talking on the row they'd seen before class, Ron took the opportunity to cross-examine Harry over what Snape had said to him to make him enter the classroom after them so angrily.

    "He did WHAT!?" shouted Ron, incensed.

    "Gave me detention," answered Harry. "The whole weekend…with Nott and Malfoy, no less."

    Ron gripped his wand tighter in his hand, enraged. "What for!?"

    " 'What for!?' It's obvious, isn't it?" Harry shot at him, pointedly. "For absobloodylutely nothing, that's what, the grotty git. He's never needed a reason, has he?"

    Hermione gazed up at him with concern. "But Harry don't you have a match against Ravenclaw this wee…"

    "We sure as hell do, and he knows it! Greasy scrote…" Ron interjected furiously.

    Hermione blushed scarlet. "RON!"

    Ron ignored her. "Harry, tell me you're going to Dumbledore on this…"

    Harry paused. "No, I don't think so."

    "What…Why not!?" Ron yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "Are you mad!? He'll overturn Snape for sure; he knows he's always shafting you! Anyway, you're Quidditch captain, mate. You have to be there."

    "Ron," began Hermione in the tone that usually drove him completely mad. "I think Harry's taking this rather well. Whether or not Professor Snape was right in punishing him, Harry's showing him how to be adult in all this. In the end I think it'll be Professor Snape himself who'll feel ashamed."

    Ron goggled at her as if she'd taken complete leave of her senses. Harry rather felt the same, although he decided it would be in his best interests not to show it.

    If there was one thing Snape was not, it was humble. He would never admit he'd been wrong; in fact, when it came to punishing Harry, he had proven over and over he really didn't care. But Harry had never been one to concede defeat where the greasy git was concerned; he had his own agenda.

    Ron turned his gobsmacked expression back to Harry. "So…You going to tell me WHY you're just going along with this or do you want to leave me in suspense?"

    "Something strange happened between Malfoy and Nott while Snape was making everyone get back to the classroom," said Harry. "I want to find out what it was."

    "What," smirked Ron. "Did they finally admit they were a couple of fairies and start snogging?"

    Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "Ron, for the love of Godric…"

    "No," Harry smirked back at him. "Actually it was more something Malfoy did. Nott was banging on about Lucius opinion of his son now he's gone 'soft' and Malfoy sort of…rubbed at his arm, like something's happened. It's just a suspicion, but I'm curious all the same."

    Hermione gawped up at him as they entered Lupin's classroom. "Harry…you don't think…"

    "I dunno," said Harry more quietly as he nodded to his father and the three took seats near the front. "But it's worth checking. When else will I get the chance?"

    Ron conceded with a sigh and finally nodded. "Alright then. I can be Quidditch captain for one game if you think it's important. Ginny'll have to play seeker again, I guess; she wasn't half bad…Not you, though…"

    "Thanks mate."

    Hermione took a moment to glance over Malfoy's way and then turned back to gaze at Harry and Ron. "Malfoy…a Death Eater? It sounds strange I know, but I've really never believed once it came down to it he'd actually take the mark."

    Harry quirked an eyebrow. "I just thought he'd be too chickenshit to do it."

    "Harry!" Hermione hissed with a scandalised glower. Harry smirked playfully at her.

    "Well if it's true I'm glad Ginny broke with the bloody gump," said Ron. "I don't care if he was defending her over whatever Nott said… I won't have him near her again."

    He paused and glanced over to where Malfoy now sat at the back of the class, still battered but perched stoically upright in his desk. He shot him a vicious glare, but when Malfoy caught his gaze he merely sneered at him and looked away. Ron frowned. That was most certainly an un-Malfoy like thing to do; it was unlike him not to go farther with it… Just what had happened to him?

    ****************************************************

    Saturday came round much too quickly for Harry, and since he was currently spooned so warmly with Hermione in his bed in the early morning grey-lighted room, he decided rather than leave to start his punishment himself, that he would make Snape send for him.

    The smell of Hermione's hair, even the fabric of her pyjamas against his bare chest relaxed Harry into the familiar feeling of home. He wrapped an arm round her stomach and pushed his hand under her top rubbing slow circles on her stomach until he felt her stir against him. He tried backing his hips from her a bit as her movements began waking parts of his body he preferred to stay asleep at the moment, until he saw a smile creep onto her face.

    Harry growled down at her and although her eyes were still closed, her smile widened.

    "Enjoying yourself?" he whispered down to her.

    Hermione cracked one eye open. "Tormenting you? Always."

    "You're evil, you know."

    "I know."

    Harry decided to do a little tormenting himself and, before she knew what was happening, he had flipped her from her side onto her back, straddled her and pinned her arms beneath his knees.

    Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh Harry, don't…"

    "Don't what?" Harry asked innocently.

    "Please, you know I can't stand it," begged Hermione desperately, squirming beneath him.

    Harry flushed and adjusted his position. "Stop that!"

    "What?"

    "Stop moving like that!" said Harry flushing slightly. Hermione found a blushing barechested Harry cute as hell and couldn't resist moving again. Harry scowled down at her.

    "Alright, you've done it. I was gonna be merciful but…"

    Harry dug his fingers into her ribs and Hermione began laughing and wriggling even more until he found it almost impossible to keep her pinned underneath him without a certain part of him reacting. He rolled off her but still pulled her to him and attacked her sides.

    Hermione screamed shrilly and tried wrapping her arms round her ribs but Harry simply attacked the back of her knees. "HARRY! Stop please! Stop, I'm sorry! Please!"

    Harry grinned at her and grabbed an ankle, his fingernails running along the underside of her foot. "Apologise…"

    "I DID!" Hermione cried, jerking spasmodically. Harry narrowly missed a kick to the face.

    "I didn't hear it." Harry continued his torture.

    "Yes you did, you git!" Hermione growled and then kicked and screamed again as Harry's fingers made it to the back of her thighs and pinched her butt. "Oh Merlin stop…STOP! I'M SORRY! PLEASE!"

    Harry paused for a moment and Hermione fell back against the bed, breathing raggedly.

    "Hmmm…"

    Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Wh…what…"

    "Tell me what a great wizard I am."

    "You stuck-up clot," began Hermione, but Harry again raised claw-like hands and put them to her sides to tickle her.

    "ALRIGHT!" Hermione laughed. "You're a great wizard."

    Harry pretended to search her face for honesty. "How great?"

    "The greatest ever born," said Hermione, and then let her eyes drag down his body and back up to his face and messy black hair appreciatively. "And the best looking, though I'm certainly biased."
    

    Harry pretended to be satisfied and twisted as if to hop from the bed but then turned back to her. "Noooo…that won't do." He attacked her again.

    Hermione laughed and screamed again as Harry wiggled his fingers into an armpit and then squeezed the base of her neck, grinning evilly. He knew all of her spots…

    "HARRY! S..STOP IT RIGHT NOW, I M..MEAN IT!"

    Harry laughed out loud as he attacked the back of her legs and again gave her butt a pinch. "Once more with feeling…"

    "STOP IT YOU BLOODY GIT!"

    Harry finally stopped his torture and fell back onto the bed laughing maniacally until Hermione threw herself onto him and began a frenzied attack on his own ribs. She loved it when he thrashed about and laughed high-pitched like a young boy…

    The tickle torture soon grew into more passionate touching and before Hermione knew it, Harry had rolled her beneath him and both were kissing desperately. Very soon, his tongue began moving against hers in the same hot, slow, methodical way his hips were moving…

    No… Hermione thought heatedly. Most definitely not a young boy…

    He slid a hand down her side and hip and over to the inside of her thigh, feeling more than hearing her pant into his mouth. Damn her for moving like she was…

    Harry slid his mouth from hers and steadily kissed a burning trail down her neck, suckling on her collarbone and lower. As he moved, his wild black hair tickled the side of her cheek and then under her chin, and Hermione felt a thrill travel from her chest straight downward. She gripped at his bare shoulders, marvelling to herself how painfully erotic such a small, normally insignificant thing could be…

    Harry's hands moved to rest on the lightly covered, soft rounded sides of her breasts, his tongue and lips moving down the few open buttons of her nightshirt to lave its way between them. Hermione sighed and dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his back, sliding them up over his shoulders and down his defined chest to his nipples, bringing her mouth to his neck and suckling in just the way she knew he liked. He was so hard against her… She breathed in his unique scent, marvelling at how familiar she'd become with it…

    Harry moved his mouth back to hers and felt her touch her tongue to his once again. Gods she tasted good, like honey…like Hermione…

    He rolled her on top of him, his hands travelling over her back and sweeping over her butt, to pinch it again playfully. He felt her grin into his mouth and playfully dig a few fingers into his ribs. She pulled back to ask when he had decided to keep his wand in his boxers, and Harry replied with a naughty smirk that he had yet to use this particular 'magic wand' on her but was heartily looking forward to it.

    He had just begun to describe the 'wood' it was made from when Hermione gave a scandalised huff and tackled him yet again.

    They continued playing on for some time, snogging, laughing and tickling until both had rumpled the bed covers into a completely wrecked state.

    A knock on the portrait door followed by a tiny voice: "Trespasser… Miscreant…Knave! Have at thee!" alerted them to the fact that playtime was over.

    Harry let his head slam back to the pillow with a miserable muffled thud. "Time for detention…"

    Hermione frowned sympathetically.

    "Stand and fight! Beslubbering boar-pig! Coward!" CLANG! Cadogen must've fallen from his horse again…

    "Shut up you little nutter!" Came a familiar muffled voice from the other side. "Harry open up mate, it's Ron…"

    Harry threw some jeans on, padded to the door, and caught the familiar tiny 'swish, swish' of Cadogen's sword, followed by another clattering of armour. An evil grin spread slowly across his face. "Ron? How'd I know it's really you?"

    "…What!? 'Course it's me! Who'd you think it is!?" Thwip! A tiny arrow sounded, followed by several more…

    Harry smirked. "I dunno, your voice is a bit high for Ron… Professor McGonnagol, is that you?"

    "Thou art an ill-bred molewart! I shall storm thy castle and seize thy native lands! A pox on thee!"

    Ron huffed angrily. "Harry, you sod… Open up or I'll slice the titchy shortarse right from his portrait!"

    Harry chuckled and swung the door open to reveal a scowling, greatly annoyed Ron gripping his wand and dressed in full Quidditch gear.

    "Ho, ha ha! The coward flees the fight! The birds of prey shall feast on thine entrails!"

    Ron stepped inside and slammed the portrait door shut behind him, punching Harry hard in the arm right after. Outside, Cadogen raved on.

    "Bastard. When are you and Hermione gonna switch him with a SANE portrait!?"

    "He grows on you." Harry shrugged noncommittally.

    Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Right."

    "Well I'm glad it's you," Harry grinned as a fully dressed Hermione came out from his room. "Wasn't quite ready for detention, you know."

    "Well hold that thought mate," scowled Ron grumpily. "Snape met me as I was headed out with the team to practice. Thought it'd be right hilarious to send me for you, I guess. Says to be at his classroom in a half hour."

    Harry's grin faded and he turned to see Hermione beaming approvingly at him. "I'm not doing this to be a better man, 'Mione. It's just information I want."

    Ron smirked down at her.

    "I know!" said Hermione gruffly. "But it doesn't hurt Professor Snape might see it that way, does it?"

    Harry sighed.

*************************************************************

• • Harry dragged his feet, his hands jammed around his robes into the pockets of his worn jeans, and his damp hair, freshly washed from the shower he'd just taken, either sticking up all over the place or laying in clumps against his forehead. The long trudge to Snape's office was not a pleasant one, though Harry knew he could easily have told Dumbledore the situation and had the Potion professor's detention thrown out. But Harry had no wish to appear a spoiled little boy who tattled his abuse to the adoring Headmaster. The thought of it made him queasy. Besides if he had gone that route Snape would loathe him more than he had ever before done, and there was no reason to further fuel the Potion professors hatred of him.

    As he walked, Harry's thoughts took a swift turn back to fifth year when he had been left alone in Snape's office during an Occlumency lesson, and he had dared rather recklessly to take a peek into the professor's pensieve left unguarded on his desk.

    He remembered as he had seen into the misty silver depths, how his father's behaviour toward Snape had sickened him, and how unfair the attack on him had seemed. James, it appeared, had been arrogant and extremely fond of himself, and had decided in order to make himself appear better, especially where Lily Evans was concerned, that he would torment more unpopular students; even one's who seemed to have been minding their own business and did not deserve it. Harry's high opinion of his father had plunged drastically as of that moment, but Sirius had later on helped him realise he was only seeing Snape's biased memories in the pensieve, and what he had seen was not necessarily how the event had actually occurred. From then on, Harry had learned to be sceptical of the accuracy of any events seen in a pensieve as they could be skewed by the person's point of view.

    After this, Harry had decided to reserve his opinion of his father until he had found out more from Sirius, and eventually, he did. Snape and James, much like Harry and Draco Malfoy, had been bitter enemies in school from the start, and were constantly after each other in one way or the other. James, it seemed, hated the dark arts, which Snape had been deeply involved with. Consequently, James had also wanted Snape kept as far away from Lily as possible. He'd never missed an opportunity to lessen Snape in her eyes, though most of the time, it only served to make her angry with him and sympathetic toward Snape.

    Snape on the other hand, had been as infatuated with Lily Evans as James Potter, and in his own gruff, awkward way had unsuccessfully tried to woo her. He was also jealous of James and Sirius' popularity in school, though he had tried to mask it by making as if he hated who they were because of it.

    Sirius' different point of view had served to make Harry think his father might have not been such a bad wizard after all; just normal. This was definitely a good thing, as he would learn two years later his father was still alive.

    Harry paused outside the Potion master's classroom and closed his eyes for a few moments before entering. Time free to let one's brain wander where it would was not always necessarily a good thing. Today it had served only to remind Harry of the even more chaotic turn his life had taken recently, and the fact that with Voldemort's now renewed threat, the madness was far, far from over. He just hoped spending detention with Lucius Malfoy's son might give him some type of information into Voldemort's dealings.

    Harry rapped sharply on the classroom door, averting his eyes rather embarrassed as two fifth year Ravenclaws passed by on their way to watch Gryffindor practice and gave him an odd look.

    The door swung open and, much to Harry's non-surprise, Snape stood at the front along with a sullen Malfoy and Nott looking in a particularly nasty, but satisfied mood.

    "Good you could join us, Potter. You're ten minutes late."

    Harry ignored him and ambled up to the front, avoiding Malfoy and Nott's gazes much as they were avoiding his.

    Snape waltzed round his desk and yanked out from behind it a large, black cauldron, slamming it down on the first table he came upon. He then turned and gestured towards the huge bookshelf lining the east wall of the classroom.

    "I've acquired a great lot of specimens throughout my years as a Potion's master. The top shelves consist of dried roots, plants and such, but the bottom shelves hold ingredients which must be suspended in a preserving solution."

    Harry eyed row upon row of slimed, sometimes scaly looking plants and creatures floating in jars of murky yellowish fluid and felt his stomach give an odd churn. He could only imagine the stench that must come from one of those opened jars. That might explain Snape's particular scent, he thought with a smirk of satisfaction. Both Nott and Malfoy looked a bit sickened as well.

    To Harry's regret, Snape had been studying him.

    "I'm glad you find this amusing Potter. We'll see if through the weekend you can keep that smile." Snape narrowed his eyes at the three and pointed lazily at the cauldron and then back at the bookshelf. "You three will be brewing a new vat of pickling potion to re-preserve each and every one of these."

    Nott blanched. "Professor Snape there's got to be at least two hundred jars there!"

    "And that's why I've been so gracious as to allow you the whole weekend to accomplish it, Theodore." He smiled genuinely at the way all three faces suddenly fell and whirled to stride toward a bookshelf across the room. After a moment of searching the shelves, he plucked out a thick, dusty black volume and walked back over to toss it onto the desk with a loud bang. The Complete Primer of Preserving Potions stared back at them in large gold letters from the book's cover.

    "I was quite dreading this task, I have to admit," continued Snape as he made lazily for the classroom door. "Luckily for me you three fell into it. In that book will be all the instruction you will need, along with every ingredient you'll need in the usual supply cabinet. Certain of the items you may find will require a different potion. If I find upon my return this evening you three were lazy in your research and have destroyed any of my specimens, the consequences will be most dire. Good day."

    The door shut behind him with a loud snap, and Harry, Draco and Theodore were left to scowl nastily at one another.

    ********************************************

    Some three hours later, Harry took a moment from sweating over the steaming cauldron to glance up at Snape's classroom clock. It was one in the afternoon, and as if in reply to Nott's constant complaining about lunch, his stomach growled angrily at him. But as he continued to stir the foul smelling concoction counter-clockwise, Harry was sure the Potion's master would not suddenly decide to grow a conscience and offer them a break to eat. Apparently Malfoy had decided the same.

    "Shut your gob Nott, for the love of Salazar," snapped Malfoy roughly as he used a gloved hand to pluck a slimy, dead creature from it's dirty solution and plop it unceremoniously into a jar full of clean stuff. "We're not getting lunch; stop whining."

    "I never had breakfast either…"

    "Neither did I," said Harry. "Get over it."

    Nott growled as he dipped and filled another jar and sent it sliding dangerously toward Malfoy, who grabbed it just before it went crashing to the floor. He slammed it down and turned to scowl dangerously.

    "Watch it, you filthy smeg! You want us in more trouble!?"

    "Wouldn't have done in the first place if you'd kept your ruddy head about you, you stupid lombard!" Nott dropped the dipping ladle and whirled furiously on Malfoy. "What's with you, anyway!? Coming to the Gryffinwhore's aid…"

    Harry whitened with rage. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL…"

    But Malfoy roared furiously and lunged at Nott landing a few well-placed punches before Harry could jump at them and finally throw them apart.

    "Don't touch me, Scarhead!" roared Draco taking a swing at him as well. Harry threw up his arm and caught the punch on his tricep, shoving Malfoy back at the same time.

    "GET OFF IT!" Harry thundered at them. "You want Snape giving us another weekend of detention!?"

    Nott, breathing heavily and swiping at yet another bloody lip, spoke up sarcastically. "Oh what…is Potter the Great coming to put an end to the madness again? Go on then, sort us out."

    But Harry merely glared furiously at him. "What's all this 'Gryffinwhore' shit you're banging on about!?"

    Malfoy gritted his teeth, completely enraged, but Nott merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Harry with a smirk. "Don’t tell me you haven't dipped your wick, Potter. Ginny Weasley's drooled after you for years. Been having a bit of the afternoon delight, aye?"

    This time around, it was Malfoy who pulled Harry from Nott, but only after a few punches to the face. Harry shoved him away angrily and stabbed a finger at Nott.

    "You bloody bastard! I hear you say anything like that again and I'll rip you a new arsehole unless Ron gets there first! Ginny's like my sister!"

    Nott stood shakily, holding his stomach and gesturing toward Malfoy. "Maybe," he grunted. "But Malfoy might tell you different."

    Malfoy straightened and lifted his chin reflexively, but Harry could swear he saw a bit of guilt in his eyes.

    Harry speared him with a dangerous glare. "You tell me what he's on about or so help me I'll rip you both in two. Or worse, I'll let Ron at you."

    Malfoy sneered at him. "You could try."

    Harry took a step toward him. "Don't tempt me…"

    Malfoy worked his jaw thoughtfully and stared from Nott to Harry, who looked ready to kill. He made his decision quickly and pulled out his wand.

    Harry raised a hand, prepared to counter-attack when Malfoy aimed it toward Nott, whose mouth suddenly went slack.

    "Petrificus Totalus."

    Nott's body snapped together, suddenly rigid, and slammed backward to the floor with a loud thud. His eyes, large with surprise, stared unseeing at the cobwebs waving from the ceiling.

    Harry glanced a bit confused from one to the other, and Malfoy watched as he slowly lowered his hand.

    "Forgot about the wandless magic," sneered Malfoy sarcastically, shoving his wand back into his robes. "Potter the Great seems an appropriate name, doesn't it?"

    "Slag off," said Harry testily. He turned toward the cauldron he'd forgotten and scourgified the now thick green contents with a wave of his hand. The mess disappeared instantly, and he turned back toward Malfoy who now sat perched lazily on the edge of a desk.

    "I lied to my father," said Malfoy simply.

    Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "About?"

    "Ginny," Malfoy sighed.

    Harry set his jaw angrily and glared at him. Draco seemed to honestly regret it, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be fooled. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep calm. "And she thought you really cared for her…"

    "I DO!" bellowed Draco suddenly bolting upright.

    "THEN WHY!?"

    "Because father found out about us, that's why!" continued Draco, suddenly beginning a frustrated pace about the room. "I tried to break with her before anyone could see and let him in on it…"

    "You mean any of the other damn Slytherins," said Harry with a contemptuous sneer.

    "Yeah Potter… the other damn Slytherins," Draco whirled on him with a hard sarcasm to his voice and jabbed a finger toward the rigid prone form of Nott. "But that bastard had already told his father, who let mine in on, you see?"

    Harry stood. "They're both in the same costume club, I guess," he shot out sarcastically. "Black hoods and slitted eyes, right?"

    "You're missing the point as usual, Scarhead," seethed Malfoy.

    "Enlighten me," Harry growled back.

    Malfoy rolled his eyes at him and made a fist as if to punch something from frustration. "I had to make father believe Ginny was just a…distraction."

    "So you thought you'd take the easy way out, and now half the school thinks Ginny's some sort of slag," Harry shot back.

    "Easy way out…" Malfoy whirled back toward him, a look of utter hatred on his face and took a step forward, but seemed to think better of it in an instant. For one brief moment he'd raised a hand as if to touch his bicep again but caught himself in time and dropped it. "You don't know shit, Potter."

    But Harry hadn't missed the sudden movement, nor had he missed the expression that had flitted over Malfoy's face when he'd realised what he'd almost given away. He leaned against Professor Snape's desk, watching Malfoy carefully.

    "You think you had it so bloody awful growing up," Malfoy continued, looking so full of hate he seemed sick with it. "Having to live with Muggles; knowing your parents were killed by some mental evil wizard who's out to get you now, aye? Poor, sad Potter…that's what everyone thinks, don't they? D'you love all the sympathy you get, Scarhead? D'you love being everyone's bloody hero? D'you stay awake at night thinking on your dead parents; the ones who loved you so..very..much…"

    "D'you wish your father was dead?" asked Harry quietly with a blank expression.

    "My father is dead, Potter. He's been dead to me for years…just not quite dead enough." Malfoy stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Harry. "What the hell are you on about? As if your fussed over anything I want. And the feeling is wholly mutual, you can be sure."

    Harry had never seen someone as consumed with hatred, though he felt as if he sometimes bordered on it when an image of Voldemort burned in his thoughts. The look of pure loathing burning in Malfoy's eyes told Harry much more than what he needed to know. "So you want to kill him, is that it?"

    Draco fisted his hands and snarled at Harry. "D'you have a point Scarhead or d'you actually think you're that fascinating to…"

    "Is it because he gave you the dark mark?" said Harry finally.

    And Malfoy suddenly stopped every motion he'd made, his face completely draining of colour.

    Harry watched him work his jaw, a thousand different conflicting emotions crossing his face as if he were a theatre screen set on fast forward. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively, his eyes darting from every corner of the room, to Nott now moving a bit on the floor, to the door behind Harry as if possibly contemplating escape. He looked as if he had no where to run.

    Nott sat up slowly, his eyes fixed on the two young men facing each other. But rather than the look of confusion Harry and Malfoy had expected, Theodore's eyes were widened with triumph, and since the spell was now fully worn off he stood, although slowly owing to the hard fall he'd taken.

    "You do know the petrifaction charm does nothing toward a person's hearing," he breathed out, his face a mirror of excitement. He moved toward the other two sneering, and gave a short scoffing laugh. "Knew it moment we fought in the hallway, but until now I've had no proof. I saw you grab at your arm when I'd got hold of it, Malfoy… Guess daddy wouldn't let his son embarrass OR betray him, would he?"

    At the sudden murderous look on Malfoy's face, Harry knew he might be contemplating something desperate and shifted a bit where he was, ready to take action if necessary. But Malfoy and he were roughly the same build and height…

    Malfoy stood, eyeing Nott with a very dangerous snarl. "You say a WORD to anyone on ANY of this you grotty little bastard and…"

    "What…" Nott chuckled derisively. "You try anything else and you'll be chucked out of Hogwarts so fast you won't know until your arse hits the street. And now you have nowhere to go, do you? Poor little rich wizard… There's loads of people who'd love to hear this, I think…"

    Malfoy moved toward him with fists raised, all thoughts of using his wand gone from his head as his body throbbed with fury. But Nott whipped out his own wand and aimed it, cocking his head at him. Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

    "Scared I've got something on you now, Malfoy? You should be…I'm telling the first load of Slytherins I come across…"

    "Obliviate!"

    Nott suddenly blinked, confused, and then took a few moments to stare blankly ahead. Malfoy whirled around.

    "No your not," said Harry simply, lowering his hand.

    Malfoy stared at him with not a trace of appreciation and instead, scowled angrily. "I don't need your help, damn it. I can take care of my own bloody problems…"

    "Bullshit," said Harry.

    Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but next moment the door to the classroom banged open and both boys jumped back, expecting an angry Snape to begin hexing them for their lack of anything to show for hours spent 'working'.

    Professor McGonnagol rushed in, her black teachers robes billowing behind her. With her nostrils flaring, her lips set in a thin line, and her face white with fear, even Nott, who still looked as if he wasn't sure where the last half hour had just gone, could tell something was drastically wrong.

    Harry opened his mouth to speak but she waved her hands frantically at him. "No time Potter. Come with me, NOW."

    "Professor, I'm in detention," said Harry. "If I leave, Snape'll have my head…"

    "Charlie, Bill and Arthur Weasley were just attacked," said McGonnagol briskly, her voice cracking a bit. "Dumbledore wants to see you straight away."

    Both Harry and Malfoy started with surprise, but for very different reasons, and Harry ran out of the room after her, leaving Malfoy thinking more heavily than he had done even previously, on Ginny.

    *************************************************

A/N: Sorry this took soooooooooo long guys. I've been super busy. I know you want to hit me in the head with a bludger now, but this is another long chapter so I hope that makes up for it. Send howlers to the North Pole.

29. Chapter 29: First Victims

• • Chapter 29: First Victims

    Harry pounded quickly down the dimly lit hallways after Professor McGonnagol, whose face was tightly drawn and very pale; and although he was now a good three inches taller than her, he was surprised at the difficulty he was having keeping up with her pace.

    Charlie, Bill and Mr. Weasley attacked… an image of their bodies, hopelessly mangled and twisted almost beyond recognition, flashed in his mind as he ran. A cold shiver travelled through Harry's body. If they were dead, well… he knew whose fault it would be.

    They came to an abrupt halt in front of the twin stone gargoyles that marked the entranceway to Dumbledore's office. McGonnagol was completely breathless after running, and rightly so owing to her age, so Harry barked out 'sherbet lemon' for her.

    The gargoyles leapt aside, and the stone staircase behind them suddenly groaned to life, scraping and grinding its way upward. Harry and Professor McGonnagol hopped a step and were wound swiftly upward toward Dumbledore's office, finally stopping on the warmly lit first floor.

    Harry was not surprised to see Ron and Ginny already there waiting. The late afternoon sun streamed orange and dark yellow through the great window behind Dumbledore's desk, illuminating both of their equally stricken expressions as they paced trails into the scarlet carpet of the room; both dressed in moderately soiled Quidditch gear. Ron glanced up from chewing on his nails to see Harry and McGonnagol enter and dropped his hand to quickly stride over to Harry.

    "You've heard?"

    Harry nodded, noting with concern how Ron's face had paled to such a shade of white that his brown freckles stood out sharply in contrast. Ginny's less dotted complexion was equally as pale, though long wet trails now marred her pink cheeks.

    "Professor, any news?" Ginny asked with dread as she strode toward Professor McGonnagol.

    "Not yet," said McGonnagol grimly, "but he's only just left, Ms. Weasley. We must give the Headmaster time to meet with the rest of the Aurors to find out exactly what your father and brothers were doing; and more importantly, where they were when attacked. It'll be vital information for the Order's next move."

    Ron whirled angrily on her and yelled. "But we don't even know if they're dead or alive! He could at least come back and let us in on that bit before he just sends a message our family's been attacked and runs off to investigate the whole bloody thing!"

    McGonnagol sighed in understanding. "Ronald, the note Professor Dumbledore received was scrawled out so quickly; whoever wrote it obviously had no time to go into detail. The fact of the matter is when the Headmaster portkeyed for St. Mungo's he himself knew nothing of their states. As soon as he has word he'll let us in on straight away, I'm sure. He doesn't want you left in agony any more than I do."

    She eyed them sympathetically as they stood closely together looking by all accounts, lost. "Try not to worry until we've got word… Please, won't you two have a seat…try to calm down a bit?"

    Ginny shook her head rapidly still staring at the carpet as she paced. For his part, Ron goggled at the Professor with such disbelief that she felt forced to look away.

    "So he's not even here?" said Harry, finally able to edge into the conversation.

    McGonnagol shook her head and made her way round Dumbledore's dark polished desk to plop wearily into the wingback chair. "Fortunately I was here with him when he received the message or you three wouldn't be here even now. He had just enough time to tell me to have you three waiting in his office when he returned before he left straight to London for the hospital."

    No sooner had the words finished leaving her mouth than a huge, bright green fire erupted in the grate of the fireplace with a loud whooshing sound, leaving after it a cloud of smoky ash, and a rolled up piece of parchment.

    Ron practically dove for it and grabbed it up, tearing at the small red tie holding it closed. Ginny, Harry and Professor McGonnagol quickly gathered round, all peering anxiously down at it.

    Minerva,

    Have Ronald and Virginia portkey to St. Mungo's

    straight away. Molly Weasley will be in the lobby waiting

    for them. Harry and Hermione may accompany them if

    they wish it. I should return shortly; until that time

    please act as Headmistress in my stead.

    Albus Dumbledore, H.M.

    Ginny slapped her hands over her mouth and gave a sudden muffled sob. "Oh gods… If they were alright he would've said in the note… he would've said, I KNOW IT! Oh gods Ron… "

    Ron looked very much as if he agreed with her and only had the energy at the moment to wrap a hand about her trembling shoulders.

    McGonnagol's eyes quickly swept the office for some suitable object to be used as a porkey, when they finally landed on Dumbledore's purple and gold starred nightcap hanging limply near his dressing gown on a coat rack in the corner. Finding it to be as good as anything else, she grabbed it and headed towards the three teens standing and staring miserably at each other.

    Ron's frightened gaze locked with Harry's as the professor approached. "I guess…m..maybe they were the first targets."

    Harry screwed up his face in an attempt to control himself, feeling very much as if he would like nothing more than to melt down into the hardwood floor of Dumbledore's office and dissolve until he was no more.

    He desperately wanted to run to them before they vanished into disorientating swirls from the portkey; to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness for allowing them and their family into his life, and as a result, for dooming them to danger and possible death. But the shame that tightened his throat, stung his eyes, and churned coldly in his stomach, only allowed him to stand and stare.

    Ron swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "You'll be following us over, then?"

    Harry paused quietly.

    "If you want."

    Ron frowned at him. "Wh… 'course we do… And bring Hermione too, all right?" He looked down at Ginny who stared ahead, terrified. "We'll be needing the both of you, I think."

    McGonnagol moved tentatively toward Ron and Ginny and handed him the nightcap. He held it limply in his hands.

    "Both of you grab onto it," she said in a strained voice, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the cap. "Y…You'll arrive in the front lobby of the hospital, so…so no worries…Portus!"

    Ron and Ginny's forms appeared swirled and disfigured before Harry, until they both coiled into nonexistence with a loud *pop*.

    As soon as the both of them had vanished, McGonnagol turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You may go get Ms. Granger now, Mr. Potter. I'll still be here when you return. You can leave straight away."

    Harry nodded, feeling as if his head had been stuffed with cotton. Too many emotions fought for control of his thoughts, but guilt and fear raged louder than the others in his mind. They pounded in his head like a resounding deep drum, screaming accusations from the darkest recesses of his mind like a jury that had always lurked there, just waiting to pass judgement. His fault… their lives were on his head… all his fault…

    As if in a dream, he moved heavily toward the stone archway that loomed over the downward spiralling staircase, but stopped at a hand that gripped his shoulder.

    "Something for you to think on as you go," said McGonnagol; her voice a mixture of compassion and reason.

    Harry froze in place, neither turning nor moving.

    "Just you remember who did this, you hear me?" Harry nodded miserably once and moved as if to continue on, but she gripped his sturdy shoulder again. "No, look at me, Potter… You..did..not..DO..this. You are NOT to blame. You have no more control over Voldemort's actions than you have over the sun and stars." Her nostrils flared angrily as she continued. "He's held command of your life and emotions for too long, Harry. Don't you give him any more, you hear me? Don't you do it."

    Harry found that it had become almost impossibly hard to breathe. He barely heard her as he gently pulled his shoulder from her grasp to jog down the moving staircase into the cold hallways of the school, leaving her, and her empty well-meaning words behind.

    As he ran toward the common room he shared with Hermione, Harry felt cold dread begin to trickle down his spine. So it had begun. Voldemort's hatred and jealousy of him had finally begun to catch up with those he loved. Who would be next? Another Weasley; Ron perhaps, his father, Sirius… Hermione?

    Harry's every nerve ending electrified with fear. He would NOT ALLOW IT. No matter what he had to do or what he had to sacrifice, he would NOT ALLOW IT. They meant too much…Great Merlin, SHE meant too much. Hermione was worth everything. She was priceless.

    Harry passed several students as he jogged past, including Colin Creevey who miserably avoided his gaze, as usual. He passed Snape as well, noting quickly how the Professor looked immediately torn at the thought that his normally rotten behaviour toward Harry was for now, inappropriate. He settled for cold impatience.

    "Don't think you're out of detention now Potter," Snape called severely after him. "Tomorrow morning I'll expect you in my classroom."

    Harry suppressed the urge to tell him where he could go and decided on ignoring him.

    He finally reached his and Hermione's rooms, calling out the password to Sir Cadogen quick enough so as to avoid yet again being challenged to a duel. He could practically feel Cadogen's disappointed frown from beneath his visor.

    As he stepped inside, it took Harry only a quick glimpse of Hermione perched on the common room couch to guess what she had been doing. Her wavy hair sat piled atop her head in a messy bun secured by a spare quill, and opened books and parchments littered the area surrounding her. In a lesser situation, Harry would have grinned fondly at her only seconds before tackling her to the floor and snogging her breathless.

    Now however, he found himself oddly distant.

    Hermione frowned up at him as he approached. "Harry? Surely you've not done with detention already…"

    He opened his mouth to speak, but as he looked at her, he found that his throat was too tightly constricted. She sat in front of the glowing fire, her smooth skin and large doe eyes lit with orange and dancing with flame shadows…She was so beautiful, so alive… and he was so unworthy of her…

    Hermione noted the strained look on his face and her heart leapt to her throat. She was on her feet and near him in an instant, grasping his hands. "Harry, what is it love… What's happened, tell me…"

    "Mr. Weasley," Harry choked out finally. "Bill and Charlie…They've been attacked."

    Hermione blanched. "Oh my god…Oh god are..are they…"

    "Dunno," said Harry thickly. "I don't know how they are. Dumbledore's already sent for Ron and Ginny. We're to meet them at St. Mungo's."

    Hermione swallowed hard, tears now sliding down her cheeks. She moved to circle her arms about him. "Oh Harry…"

    But Harry pulled back from her as if her touch burned his skin. "No…no, don't. Don't feel bad for me, Hermione. Save it for Ginny and Ron; they're the ones who need you now, not me."

    Hermione studied him carefully as he held her at arms length, avoiding her eyes. Somehow, it terrified her. "But…the Weasley's are like family to you…"

    Harry moved from her and grabbed up her cloak, helping her into it. He knew she was staring at him, bewildered, and still he couldn't bring himself to look at her. As an afterthought, he gently pulled the quill from her hair to allow it to tumble free once more. He knew she would forget to take it out.

    "LIKE family, Hermione," he said flatly. "But they're not really mine, are they? I have no right to them."

    Hermione stared at him and somehow, for some unknown reason, fear began to simmer within her, like a warning signal zinging from every nerve.

    Harry shook his head and moved toward the portrait door, his steady façade now built like a wall around him. "Let's go; they'll be needing us."

    **************************************

    It was strange to Harry, to suddenly appear in the busy reception area of St. Mungo's. The last time he had been here along with the Order, they had walked along the bustling streets of London before stopping in front of an old-fashioned, red brick department store known as Purge and Dowse, Ltd. He had found himself then, staring into the eyes of a shabbily dressed female mannequin that had seemed to have seen better days, before one of the Order had spoken to her. She had then, to Harry's immense surprise, given them a slight nod and beckoned them forward to walk through her glass window; a window that, as they had passed through it, felt to them like a sheet of icy water.

    They had come to see Mr. Weasley then too, although that time it had been only him, wounded by Voldemort's incredibly large python, Nagini. At least that time circumstances had turned out all right. Somehow though, Harry felt this time would not turn out the same.

    Despite himself, Harry held tightly onto Hermione's hand as they wound their way through the crowd of patients and healers clad in lime-green, to stand in queue behind a few others in front of the reception desk.

    A couple of spots in front of them stood a wizard with a small child who had obviously contracted a bad case of dragon pox. He continually pushed her small hand away as she tried to scratch at the scaly spots on her skin. Behind them a wizard, with the long, thin orange legs of a chicken, and a witch, whose body had been mostly turned into a cow, were still bickering loudly with one another. It didn't take many guesses to figure what their argument had been about.

    Hermione had just enough time to goggle and point out a slightly red-faced teenaged wizard who had yards of engorged tongue wrapped about one arm as he was led away (Merlin, Harry…d'you think…Fred and George?) before it was their turn to approach the welcome witch.

    She was a plump blonde witch dressed in the same lime-green uniform with a crossed bone and wand badge resting on her ample bosom. Her expression was almost blank with boredom as she let her eyes rake blandly over the young couple.

    "Well… You two don't look injured. Here to see someone, then?"

    Harry swallowed, once again trying to fight around the lump in his throat to speak.

    "Arthur, Bill and Charlie Weasley," Hermione supplied quietly for him and squeezed his hand. Harry looked gratefully at her.

    The witch took her wand and waved it briefly over the large tattered, yellow ledger in front of her, watching dully as it's pages began to flip by themselves. They stopped fluttering and landed toward the back, and she began tracing down the page with her wand, muttering to herself. Hermione held herself on tiptoe, curious to see how St. Mungo's patient tracking system worked, though Harry had a good view of the book, and the welcome witches suddenly more serious expression.

    "Weas…oh. Oh! Oh, Weasley…I umm… This is… is your first time visiting the Weasleys, I gather…"

    Harry frowned suspiciously at her. "Yeah, 'course it is. They were only admitted a few hours ago."

    "Please, we'd like to see them now," said Hermione urgently.

    But the witch only smiled comfortingly to her. "They're on the fourth floor, intensive care unit. But just you let me call the Weasley's Healer first. It might be a good idea for him to talk with you a bit before visiting, I think. If you'll just budge to the side for a moment… that's the way," she waved to the right of her desk. "I'll page him now; he'll be here shortly."

    But Harry was having none of it. "What aren't you telling us? What's happened?" A bit behind him, Hermione was beginning to pale.

    "Healer Jabilo will be with you shortly," said the blonde witch almost desperately, "Please, he'll explain everything if you'll just wait for him to arrive…"

    "Wait my arse," said Harry through gritted teeth. He turned to tell Hermione he was going to head to the fourth floor and find them himself, but she was no longer behind him.

    He took a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the crowd when they finally fell on her familiar brown head of curls standing near the lifts, though she was not alone. Harry's father now stood beside her, where both were engaged in conversation. He lifted his head when Hermione pointed Harry's way, and recognition sparked on his face. He waved him over, and Harry moved swiftly to join them. He hadn't even known his father had been informed...

    Upon reaching them, he could tell James had been crying. It scared the hell out of him.

    "Dad?"

    But Lupin merely took Harry by the shoulder. "Come with me, son. Ron's been waiting for you."

    He and Hermione entered the lift with him, and as the doors closed on them, Harry knew instinctively that he would rather wait the few moments it took to get to the fourth floor before hearing the bad news. At least for those few moments, they were blissfully unaware.

    Upon reaching their desired floor, they walked on, passing numerous doors bearing the names of witches and wizards who had been incorrectly or almost fatally jinxed or hexed with one irremovable spell or another. However, all Harry could allow in his line of vision was the large orange door of the magical intensive care unit looming larger and larger before them as they walked.

    The intensive care unit was full of curtained off areas, with healers, their helpers, and relatives of the sick or injured milling about, all looking hopeless and sad. As they passed the warded off areas, they saw loads of patients, all hooked up to one intricate looking machine or another; some awake, some not, and some looking as if they were only just grasping on to life.

    Mrs. Weasley's swollen red eyes were the first Harry finally recognised amidst the crowd. Past her, members of the Order stood morosely nearby, though Ginny and Ron were no where in sight.

    "Oh Harry," she sobbed, suddenly bustling toward him and squeezing him tightly to her. "Harry, you came...and you too, Hermione. Thank you, thank you…"

    Harry stood there woodenly and let her hug him, thinking to himself that she should rather want to hurt him.

    "Th...thank you James, I knew they'd probably be down there." She whispered to Lupin, and then turned back to Harry and Hermione, her expression full of pain. "I would rather have you told by myself or R..Ron o..or Ginny…"

    Lupin patted Mrs. Weasleys arm, and Hermione looked from one to the other, her eyes brimming with tears.

    "I...I've seen it s..so often in my dreams, but somehow... somehow I j..just never really saw it coming. And even after all of the w..wards and charms on the house, it made no d..difference...my god...my god, why..."

    Mrs. Weasley was rapidly coming apart, and Hermione suddenly grabbed her in a hug, and then held her at arms length, watching her face twist in agony.

    "Please Mrs. Weasley... Tell us what's happened…"

    But she had already dissolved into tears and would have fallen to the floor had Harry and his father not caught her in time. Lupin helped her to a seat, when Harry and Hermione saw Fred, and then George walk slowly out from behind one of the curtains. Both faces were a picture of misery as George saw them and waved them over, and the absence of that usual mischievous smirk somehow made Harry sick. He'd never experienced George and Fred like this; it was almost as if he didn't know them.

    With Lupin left to console Molly, Harry and Hermione moved tentatively over toward the others. Were it not for the presence of the Order, they would have felt like outsiders, intruding on a family in mourning. But the twins immediately ushered them inside where Ginny and Ron sat closely together in-between two beds, their backs turned. The absence of the third bed was immediately noticed.

    "They need you," said Fred quietly. He moved Harry and Hermione inside and let the flap of the heavy sheet drop shut behind them.

    Ron and Ginny turned, having heard the noise behind them, and Harry was shocked to see that not only Ginny, but Ron had been crying so hard, his eyes and nose were swollen and red.

    "Got them while they were headed out on w..watch... for the Order, you know."

    Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his cloak, turning his eyes upward, his face screwed up in an attempt to keep himself from breaking. He had no right to it... He had no right, they weren't his...

    Ginny stood and stumbled toward Hermione, who immediately took her into her arms where both girls began crying.

    "Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

    "Bill always had the worst temper," said Ron as he held his father's hand from one bed, and Charlie's from the other. Both laid still and pale, tubes and magical devices dripping and beeping all around them. "If he hadn't taken the last one on, Dad would be dead. Was just about to be killed when Bill took the bastard over. I...imagine he gave as good as he got you know... B..before he died."

    And Harry's heart sunk like a stone. He had hoped, prayed even, that Bill's absence only meant he had been sent to some other ward; some ward to deal with spells not done here… But somehow, he had known. Mrs. Weasley had lost a son; it had been evident on her face the moment they had clapped eyes on her.

    Ron looked up at Harry, and in that moment he looked by all accounts, completely lost. "Thanks for coming, mate. I..we... need you here. You're family, after all."

    Harry winced. Family… The word stabbed him as if it were a blade. He turned his gaze back to Hermione and she met his eyes over Ginny's shoulder, her gaze red and watery.

    And upon seeing her eyes, Harry broke. He could barely breathe past the painful lump in his throat. His chest constricted and hitched over and over as hot tears splashed down his cheeks. He shook his head as overwhelmed, he stared down at the tile floor. Bill had died because Voldemort wanted to taunt Harry, plain and simple.

    Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, James, the rest of the Weasleys…Surely they would all soon come to realise how all along, he had been selfish in allowing them to love him. He should have refused them when they insisted on being with him. Instead of thinking of his own needs, he should have left them to live their lives in relative peace and safety. He had known all along that some time, a time when he least expected it, his self-service would result in the harm of those he had kept close to him. He had been too weak; he had broken. He had allowed people into his life, and as a result, they were all now beginning to pay. And the price was too immeasurably high.

    He tried to speak clearly, but his throat could only strangle out a whisper. "Ron…"

    "Don't Harry," said Ron quietly, beckoning a hand out to him. "Don't. Just come sit with us."

    Hermione led Ginny to a chair next to Harry and moved to Ron, where she leaned over and hugged him from behind. Ron sagged into the hug gratefully.

    Harry sat immobile as a statue staring at Mr. Weasley and Charlie, feeling the complete irony of a situation totally reversed from his childhood. For once, he was surrounded by too many caring souls.

    ******************************************

A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but it's all that belonged here. I'm sorry readers but things are going to get worse… It's how I feel the real war will be. *sobs uncontrollably!* I hope you aren't too angry with me, but I feel for the story to be plausible, I have to make it as real as possible, even though I hate it. The final war is fast approaching…

30. Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

• • Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

    No Man Is an Island

    Traditional / by Ingemar Olsson

    " ...No man is an island, no man stands alone

    Each man's joy is joy to me

    Each man's grief is my own

    We need one another, so I will defend

    Each man as my brother

    Each man as my friend."

    "Harry…" Hermione tried quietly.

    But still he said nothing, a miserable, strained expression on his face, and moved determinedly forward in the now torchlit halls of the school towards their quarters. Hermione swallowed painfully. They had spent the remainder of the day in the intensive care ward of St. Mungo's with the Weasleys until Mrs. Weasley had made them leave, only due to pure exhaustion. They had protested, exclaiming over and over that they would rather stay for Ron, Ginny and the twins; to be there when Mr. Weasley and Charlie came out from their unconscious states, but Mrs. Weasley had been insistent. Tomorrow was Sunday, she had reminded them, and they were well in need of a day of rest. She had promised Ron and Ginny would be back with them soon as for now they were staying nights at the Burrow, and had even managed to choke out that she would floo Dumbledore information for them on Bill's funeral arrangements before she had fallen completely apart again, supported on either side by Fred and George.

    They had portkeyed back to Dumbledore's office where he had been waiting for them, but the wise Headmaster had decided with one swift glance over Harry, that he was in no shape to discuss anything this night.

    The day had been horrific enough without knowing Harry blamed himself for Bill's death. It was too much to handle. And if it was too much for her, Hermione knew Harry must be in absolute agony.

    He had been distant and almost silent all day long, and though Hermione was not a skilled Legilimense by any stretch of the imagination, she had known Harry for so long she could practically read him inside and out. She could almost see the thoughts playing out on his face.

    Their hands stayed clasped together as they walked, but Harry held hers loosely and far enough away from his body so that when their arms swayed they would not brush against one another. Almost as if human contact burned him; as if he was unworthy of it; as if he was sure now his company, possibly even his very touch was a prelude to doom.

    And the thought that Harry felt these things was so evident to Hermione that she felt sick with it.

    Harry even managed to enter their common room completely ignoring the insane antics of Sir Cadogen as they brushed past him. He made to let go of Hermione's hand and began heading immediately toward his room, but she would have none of it.

    "Harry, stop."

    "It's late Hermione; I'm tired…We can talk in the morning." He managed to release her hand and turned to move toward his door.

    Hermione stared at his back for a moment. "Whose room do you want to sleep in?"

    Harry's posture went rigid then, and tears quickly stung Hermione's eyes. He turned slowly to her, managing to avoid her gaze, and slouched as if under some heavy load, shoving his hands in his pockets.

    "I…maybe I should…We'll get more sleep if we…go it alone, I think."

    He raised his eyes only slightly and gazed at her from under wet lashes until her face, surrounded by orange firelight, began to crumble.

    Acting on instinct he began to move quickly toward her, but then caught himself before he gathered her to him, looking for a moment as if he was unsure what to do with his arms.

    "Hermione, I don't...Please don't cry..."

    She breathed in deeply. "It's not for me, Harry…"

    Harry blinked. "I know today's been hard...I just thought, if we... separated ourselves a bit, we could find some perspective..."

    "I don't need perspective, I can see perfectly clear," said Hermione suddenly quite certain as she raised wet eyes to him. She breathed in again to calm herself. "I won't let you do this, Harry."

    Harry backed away from her a few steps and hardened his expression, still avoiding her eyes. "I don't know what you mean. It's been a long day, Hermione. We both need to sleep."

    Hermione grabbed his hand before he could get any further and pierced him with a gaze. "I won't let you do it, Harry. I won't let you go."

    "Hermione..."

    "No," she said calmly. "Come sit with me."

    "I don't want to!"

    "What?"

    "Sit!… I want to be alone!" He said finally, frantically, and then mumbled out the rest quietly. "… I have to be alone."

    Hermione shook her head. "No you don't."

    "You don't understand…"

    "I do," she said quietly. "More than you know. I know you, Harry."

    Harry worked his jaw and then mumbled quietly. "You shouldn't."

    Hermione peered at him. "What?"

    "Nothing. Forget it," said Harry as he made to walk to his room again.

    However, Hermione grabbed his hand again. "No, it's not nothing, Harry! What'd you mean 'I shouldn't'? Shouldn't what?"

    And Harry whirled on her and lost it. "YOU SHOULDN'T KNOW ME! I should never have ALLOWED it! What will being close to me get you, Hermione? I mean be honest; what has it ever got anyone!? It gets you closer to losing your life prematurely, that's what! Every person I touch that BASTARD takes away! It's only a matter of time before it's Sirius, my dad, Ron or another Weasley and MY GOD did you SEE Molly today!? And Ron and Ginny and Fred and George…I did that Hermione…I..DID..THAT! I let them in! D'you think he would've picked the Weasley's as a target if he didn't know they're like family to me!? If he didn't know I love them!?" Harry's deep voice cracked with emotion and Hermione found that she almost couldn't take the suffering in it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she moved toward Harry to hold him, but he backed quickly from her.

    First it had been that Harry felt unworthy of love, and now, when he finally had it, after she and Ron had spent years making him understand he was worthy of it, he felt the only way to keep those around him safe was to deny himself of it. The irony of it nauseated her.

    "Harry," said Hermione franticly, "Please try to understand…"

    "And you…gods Hermione…if anything happened to you, I couldn't…" Harry choked out. "I wouldn't want to live."

    Those unclouded, crystal green eyes Hermione loved so deeply stared at her with such anguish. His longing gaze travelled over her form and just then, Harry looked to her like the thirstiest man in the desert, staring at an oasis on all sides surrounded by iron bars.

    He took a moment to breathe deeply as he looked at her, and she immediately recognised the blank look that finally washed over his face. He was trying to resign himself.

    That hideous voice in the back of his head, the one that must sound conspicuously like Vernon Dursley, shouting to him he should have known he was not worthy enough to keep anything good or lovely, so why long for it? She'd seen it crawl like a dark shadow over him before. It was as if he'd known all along that for him, nothing good could last.

    By god but she would make it…

    She grabbed him and pulled him to the couch with her, knowing full well he could easily escape from her grasp but would never hurt her to do so, and planted her hands on either side of his face forcing him to make eye contact with her.

    "Harry, listen to me…"

    He shook his head determinedly and made to stand but she moved quickly to straddle his legs so that he was pinned there.

    "No, you listen!" she said grabbing his face again. "You don't get all of the say in this, you hear me? The Weasley's, Sirius, your dad and I, we love you because we want to, not because you've somehow tricked us or lured us in! I love you because I choose to, plain and simple, and nothing you do, no amount of pushing them or me away will change that…"

    Harry fiercely grabbed her arms. "I won't let him hurt you.".

    "And I won't let you isolate yourself!" said Hermione, equally as fierce. "And if you think Ron or the Weasley's will either, you're bloody wonkers."

    She sat silently for a moment, waiting for his protest. When it didn't come, she continued.

    "It won't matter how far you back from us. He already knows you love us. He'll know why you've suddenly chosen to go it alone, and it won't make a bloody bit of difference in the end. And Harry, you've got to know Bill didn't give his life just for you. He died trying to protect his father and anyone else Voldemort might attack. We're all targets in one way or the other; all of us. Everyone. You're not the sole deciding factor."

    Harry sighed deeply, breath whooshing out from his lungs as if he were exhaling out some poison. He felt in his heart she was right, but fear still lurked in the corners of his mind. Bill Weasley was not the first of Voldemort's victims, and he certainly was not to be the last. How could he live with himself knowing some were to be targeted simply because of their connection to him? Moreover, what was Voldemort's reasoning behind whom he chose? Harry knew he hated him and loved to cause him pain, but wouldn't drawing all of his enemies out for his final war be a better use of the dark lord's time? Wasn't that his ultimate goal? Why all of the playing round the issue first? Harry had never taken Voldemort to be a patient wizard no matter how much he might love torturing the boy-who-lived. It simply didn't add up.

    Hermione stared at Harry until she could take his silence no longer. "Harry what are you thinking? Please tell me…"

    Harry snapped back to the present and realised Hermione still had a hold of his face and was peering anxiously at him. And despite all the dark thoughts running rampantly round in his head, they dissolved away to be reformed later when his gaze met hers.

    "I'm sorry… I'm sorry for scaring you or…or hurting you. I don't want to push you or the Weasley's away, it's just sometimes...I'm not sure what to do." Hermione winced. She so often wished he didn't have to take the burden of everyone else's safety upon his shoulders. It was enough what he already had to deal with. She let her gaze sweep back over the familiar face she loved more than any other in the world. His desperate expression frightened her.

    "Sometimes I actually lie awake nights thinking on how to keep all of you safe," Harry continued, now with an ironic twist to his lips. "Only thing I ever come up with is to somehow go back seven years in time and keep myself from ever meeting any of you. I've wished so hard for a time turner that could go back that far. Sometimes, you know…I dream on it. Finding a way to travel back and right everything."

    Hermione cried out and pulled Harry to her, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent with something akin to desperation. As if he might somehow, someway find a way to go back and do just that. And Harry finally slumped free of the false hard wall he had built round him and crushed her to him, his face buried in her thick hair, tears wetting the long curls. Gods but without Hermione where would he be?

    "I don't ever want that to happen Harry…NEVER. I love you so much. Please don't ever wish it again. Please don't. Merlin I'd be so empty… Please don't ever say that again."

    Neither said anything more until hours later, they made their ways to Harry's room and crawled under the thick golden quilts on his bed, curling up tightly together until they felt secure enough to let their eyes drop closed on the horrific day.

    ***********************************

    Sunday morning came round unbidden and unwanted. Harry knew moments upon waking up with Hermione snuggled close to his chest, he was still to serve detention in Snape's classroom with Malfoy and Nott. And what with all of the drama he'd endured with them yesterday, and the even worse drama that had followed, it depressed him to think he had to face another day of it.

    Thinking to himself that the quicker he got to it the sooner he could escape, Harry finally untangled himself from Hermione's long smooth limbs and eased out of bed, snugly tucking the golden quilt back around her.

    Upon reaching their small common room he found to his surprise, a large breakfast still steaming warm waiting on the coffee table. Eggs, sausage, bacon, toast and jam and a full carafe of pumpkin juice, freshly squeezed as it still had pulp floating on top. He smiled to himself. News tended to travel fast round Hogwarts halls, and he was sure Professor Dumbledore had alerted a certain adoring house elf of Harry's punishment. He grabbed some of it up and stuffed it in his mouth, feeling slightly better, if only for the moment, about the morning. Thank God for Dobby.

    However, despite his full stomach, the long trek to the Potion's classroom was even more unpleasant than it had been morning before, what with fresh thoughts of Mrs. Weasleys agonised face and the rest of the Weasleys, minus Bill, looming sad and ghostly pale in his mind. He also couldn't stop himself from frantically trying somehow to figure who would be the next victim to warn them. There was no way of knowing, and yet he felt if he could just concentrate hard enough, he might somehow be able to think as strategically and twisted as Voldemort did. Beyond all of that he still had his talk with Dumbledore to not look forward to. Harry thought to himself he might not be able to stomach the Professor gazing at him with his wise, kindly eyes, telling him he was somehow not to worry or to blame himself, and to leave everything up to the Order. As if Voldemort was to be left up to them in the end. Dumbledore knew Trelawny's old prophecy even better than Harry did…

    As he pushed open the large oak door, Harry was surprised to find only Malfoy and Nott staring malevolently at one another at the front of the classroom, surrounded by the usual potions paraphernalia. Malfoy turned to look at him, and Harry was surprised to see a tiny bit less of the usual hatred for him in his eyes.

    "Potter."

    A very small, minute, almost microscopic bit less.

    Draco turned immediately to the cauldron on the table before him and began adding dry and liquid ingredients to the already bubbling mixture. Harry approached them, noting immediately how Nott still had the slightly bewildered look of someone who couldn't quite remember something they weren't sure had been important anyway. Harry glanced again at Malfoy, who this day had been sure to wear a long sleeved shirt under his black Hogwarts robes. Harry wasn't quite sure why he had decided to keep Malfoy's dark mark a secret, except for the fact that for some odd reason, he truly believed the Slytherin had been forced to receive it.

    "Where's Snape?" asked Harry.

    "Left suddenly," said Nott in a most unfriendly voice. "Dunno why… Something about dead Muggles needing to order something."

    Harry stared at him. "What? What the ruddy hell does that mean?"

    "Glove up and shut it, Scarhead," said Malfoy irritated as he stirred the clear, foul-smelling mixture clockwise. "It's obvious he only caught bits of the conversation. That freak werewolf old friend of your father's came in ten minutes ago and whispered to him for a few minutes. They bolted off, after."

    "Professor Lupin?" said Harry quickly. What had his father wanted with Snape?

    "You know any other mutated freaks round here?" asked Malfoy.

    "I can think of a few," said Harry, eyeing him viciously.

    Malfoy sent him a hateful glare but chose to ignore the comment. "We've switched jobs. Nott's got the pickling; you'll be the jar filler."

    Harry had too much on his mind to argue they had picked jobs without him, and pulled on a pair of heavy plastic gloves, absently beginning to fill jars and send them Nott's way. After, Nott plucked various slimy things from their old jars and plopped them unceremoniously into the new, grumbling and complaining under his breath the entire time.

    Around noon, and still under little to no supervision save a teacher popping their head in every now and then, Nott announced rather forcefully he was taking a rest. Neither Harry nor Malfoy seemed to think this a bad idea and all three put down what they were doing to retreat as far away from one another as possible to different parts of the classroom.

    With his feet propped up in front of him, Harry slouched down in a desk. After a few minutes he noticed Malfoy taking surreptitious glances his way, with a look on his face that said he was obviously fighting with something in his mind.

    One side evidently won, and Nott's suspicious gaze followed Malfoy as he finally sauntered over.

    Harry had been chewing absently on his knuckles as random thoughts ran unsorted and unorganised through his mind, but he couldn't keep from dropping his hand and raising one eyebrow at Malfoy as he approached.

    Draco sneered at him. "Don't piss yourself Potter, I'm not coming for an autograph. I just want information."

    Harry gazed impassively at him. "About?"

    Malfoy thinned his lips and tightened his fingers into knuckles, once again looking as if he were waging an inward battle. "About… About Re… Ginny. I want to know what happened yesterday…with her family."

    Harry blanched and shifted in his seat. Yesterday was the last thing he wanted to discuss; and Malfoy was certainly one of the last people he wanted to discuss it with.

    "She and Ron'll be back soon. You can ask her yourself."

    Draco glared at him. "Ginny and I aren't exactly on speaking terms for the moment Scarhead, in case it slipped your attention."

    "Can't imagine why," Harry shot back.

    Malfoy snarled at him. "Just tell me what happened damn it. Is she alright?"

    "Not really, no." said Harry. "Her father and brothers were attacked."

    Malfoy glared at him. "I've heard that part Potter…"

    "Bill Weasley's dead."

    Malfoy froze and stared at Harry for a few moments, studying the hardened, almost dead look on the other's face. He turned his back to him and ground his fists into the desk in front of him. Ginny...

    "SHIT."

    "Yeah." Harry stared expressionless at him for a few moments before he spoke again. "Three guesses who headed the whole thing."

    Malfoy rounded angrily on him, and Harry noted his face was even paler than usual.

    "I don't need you to remind me about Lucius, Potter," he growled furiously. "I've had a token of his shitsorry affections burned into my damn arm, if you'll recall." He glanced Nott's way and when he saw the other wasn't paying attention for the moment, rubbed gently at his bicep and mumbled to himself. "All last night bloody thing burned like hell."

    Harry stiffened and sat up straight letting his feet slam to the floor. "What!?"

    "Yeah, well it does that from time to time," sneered Malfoy scathingly.

    Harry scowled at him. "If he's calling his Death Eaters together it means he's planning something else!"

    "You think?" Malfoy replied with a harsh look. "Trouble is no one but the Death Eaters know where he'll strike next. There's nothing you or Dumbledore's pathetic secret Order can do until it's done, is there?"

    The expression on Harry's face as he eyed Draco froze in shock. He slowly stood and took a careful step forward. What he'd just said… He didn't know what he was going to do but he knew however the ferret had found out… something had to be done…

    "Where'd you hear about a 'secret Order'…" said Harry in a dangerously calm voice.

    Malfoy smirked at him and lowered his voice as well. "Please, Potter. Whatever they call themselves… The moment five or six of them burst in on you and yours frolicking round with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries two years ago, Voldemort had them figured. He knew Dumbledore would try building a resistance against him."

    Harry's expression hardened. "I suppose Daddy filled you in on all this, then…"

    "Lucius did yes," said Malfoy without blinking.

    "And where do you get they call themselves an 'Order'," said Harry, determined to give away nothing.

    "Dead Muggles needing to 'order' something," said Malfoy flippantly, referring to the snatch of conversation he and Nott had overheard earlier. "The conversation according to Nott. Along with what I already know, it doesn't take a science wizard to figure it out."

    "So you eavesdropped," said Harry with a subtle raise of one eyebrow.

    Malfoy reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of what appeared to be flesh coloured string. "These helped a bit."

    Harry snatched the stuff from his hand and looked it over. "What the bloody… Where in the hell did you get these!?"

    "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; Diagon Alley, Scarhead or haven't you heard?" said Malfoy snatching the string back from Harry and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Extendable Ears. Quite a clever invention for a couple of dirt poor mongs… Probably wouldn't have sold to me directly; our history and all. But they'll sell to another Slytherin if the price is right, won't they? It wasn't hard."

    "But when did you…"

    "Shopping for school supplies late August for Salazar's sake," said Malfoy disparagingly. "Your little triad of do-gooders aren't the only ones round here interested in the goings on."

    Harry stared at him for a moment, a look of complete dislike on his face before he finally spoke. "Well?"

    Malfoy stared indifferently at him. "Well what…"

    "What did they say, dickhead!?"

    "Pots and kettles Potter," glared Malfoy with hatred in his voice. "Even if I gave a damn whether you knew or not and I don't, it wouldn't matter. All I heard was some crap about dead Muggles and the Order."

    Harry growled in frustration and brushed past Malfoy to head back toward the mess of jars, potions and slimy specimens, shortly trailed by Nott and then Malfoy, who was smirking to himself. Although he was equally as angry at the lack of information, a frustrated Potter still never ceased to lift his spirits.

    The entire afternoon passed by Harry completely Snape free. As he glanced up at the magically boiling cauldron clock above his head and watched it belch up a bubble from its inside reading four o'clock, he thought to himself that under any other circumstances he would be rejoicing in the fact he hadn't yet had to face the Professor. However this day, every time the classroom door cracked open a bit he would lift his head hopefully, only to be disappointed by Professor Sprout or some other teacher checking in on them. The snatch of conversation Malfoy had heard between his father and Snape had been eating away at his mind, and he was desperate to find out what exactly had happened to keep Snape away all afternoon.

    The door to the classroom finally banged open right as five o'clock bubbled out from the cauldron clock and popped with a wet squelching sound. Snape walked in, looking weary, but by no accounts any less irritated or condescending.

    He waltzed over to the three and glanced over their progress with disdain. "I see you've managed to get them all, though I suppose I shouldn't have expected the job to look any less sloppy or carelessly done." He turned his small dark eyes on Malfoy and Nott. "You two may leave. Potter, you're to head to the Headmaster's office straight away. He'd like a word with you."

    Harry knew Snape had stressed the last part in an attempt to make him think he was in trouble with Dumbledore, but he wasn't fooled. He knew it had something to do with the snatch of conversation Malfoy and Nott had overheard, and without a word to Snape, he rushed out of the classroom.

    Malfoy, thinking to himself he would like a bit of information as well, shot him an unreadable look as he ran past.

    ************************************************

    Immediately after Harry disappeared at a full run round the corner, Nott wasted no time engaging Malfoy in an almost chest to chest staring contest.

    "Decided to make friends with Potter as well?" said Theodore in a disgusted voice. "Oh dear… Daddy'll be so disappointed."

    "Though he is good for the occasional bit of information I never have and never will be friends with Potter, dipshit." Malfoy regarded him with a haughty sneer. "And as for what Lucius thinks, I really don't give a damn."

    "Right," said Nott brusquely, stepping back from him a bit. "After school you know what he expects of you. Your new 'fraternisations' as of late, are really making it seem as if you're thinking on betraying him and Voldemort; and believe me, I'm not the only Slytherin who's noticed it…You piss daddy off any more and come graduation you won't have a home or an inheritance."

    Or a life… thought Malfoy darkly. Despite himself, he was grateful Potter had obliviated Nott's memory of the 'dark mark' incident. It would have given the little arse-wipe more to use against him.

    "Because I'm feeling generous today," said Malfoy angrily. "I'll let you in on a little something I don't think you've understood before I decide on again beating the shit out of you. What I do or don't do, is none of your ruddy-arse concern, so from now on, you can stay the hell out of it."

    "WRONG," spat Nott flatly. "What you do is most of Slytherin's concern, Draco. You're Lucius Malfoy's SON in case you've not noticed. For years most, if not the whole of our house has looked up to you. You've been THE example of what Slytherin is. We've waited to see what you would become after Hogwarts; how high you would rise in Voldemort's ranks. We've known because of your father you were on the strongest path, and most of our fathers are directly in line under yours for Voldemort's power. In fact, Lucius Malfoy is the very one Voldemort listens to the most, the only one Voldemort has allowed to recruit others for him. If Lucius' own son would betray him, if he's seen as so weak that he loses respect from his own son, how d'you think Voldemort will see our fathers, or their successors?! After that, d'you think he'd trust Lucius or anyone linked to him? D'you think he'd trust their sons and daughters? And I won't let you influence my friends or any of the others away from our chance at real power!

    See Draco… it DOES concern me what you do; it concerns ALL of our house loyal to the dark lord. It could effect how the rest of us, and our entire house are seen, and I won't let you ruin us."

    Sodding Salazar… Draco had always prided himself on knowing everything going on round him, but this revelation had come as a complete shock. So the Slytherin were watching him? Up until this point, had he been making Voldemort proud? The thought nauseated him. He had no dillusions of grandeur like Potter and his bootlicking entourage; to be good, honest and always forthright or any of that other shit. However, to think all this time he had been looked upon as the prototype of a future head Death Eater, gods… He'd always known what Lucius had in store for him, he'd just never known how much it might affect those around him.

    Nott had an almost mad gleam in his eye, and to a less ballsy wizard it would have been unnerving. But Malfoy continued to stare blandly at him.

    "You are a barking little gimp, aren't you?"

    "As they say Malfoy, one shitty apple ruins the whole otherwise impeccable barrel," Nott unaffected, continued in a low voice. "I'd rather see that one exposed for what it is and chucked out. What happens to you after is your problem."

    And with that, despite the new revelation Nott had given him, Malfoy had finally had enough.

    "Shining example or not, I've had enough of you shoving your fat arse in my business," he snarled furiously, moving to grab a fistful of Nott's shirt and bring him close to his face. "But if you want to dick around, fine. I've got time enough to again beat the hell out of you."

    Nott narrowed his eyes, but said nothing in reply. Although during their last match he had landed a few well placed blows himself, he knew he had taken the brunt of the beating. Malfoy was a bit more toned from Quidditch than he, Theodore, was.

    Draco shoved Nott back from him, ready if need be to begin and finish another fight, but Theodore backed away a bit as if beginning to head back toward the Slytherin part of the castle.

    "You just watch your step," he pointed menacingly as he made to turn on his heel and stride away. "I'll be watching you. And Merlin knows you stray out of line, my father will hear about it straight away; and then guess who'll be next to know?"

    Nott left the question hanging as he left knowing there was no need to answer. However, as far as Malfoy was concerned, his threats were ignored.

    If he stepped out from line Lucius would not need to rely on Nott's father for information, would he? Draco grimaced as he rubbed his still smarting left bicep… The moment he stepped out from the protective confines of Hogwarts grounds, Voldemort would attend to him personally.

    With that morbid thought playing havoc with his mind, Draco decided to himself he needed a stroll in fresh air to clear his mind and turned to stride as stoically as possible the opposite way down the hall.

    ****************************************

    Completely out of breath, Harry skidded to a halt in front of the ugly gargoyles guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and barked the password. The thought that something else may have happened to others he loved made his blood pump even faster in his veins, and as if he were in a state of blind panic, he tore up the revolving staircase taking two steps at a time.

    As he had expected he found the Headmaster sitting behind his desk in deep thought, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, and worry lines creasing his face, belying his usual calm exterior. As Harry approached he glanced up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

    "Harry, sit...please."

    Harry kept his eyes glued to Dumbledore and threw himself into a chair. "Professor, what's happened?"

    Dumbledore pursed his lips and dropped his fingers from underneath his chin to clasp them familiarly before him on the desk. When he spoke his voice was serious and even. "Unfortunately Harry, one of the things we've feared most."

    Harry stared at him. "We? Who d'you mean, we?"

    "Your father, Sirius and I," said Dumbledore, sighing. "We've felt for some time Voldemort might choose to target those who've had close association with you. Though his first attacks were on Arthur, Charlie and Bill Weasley, it could have been seen as mere coincidence that you're involved with their family. However, with this new round, we've become more certain than ever that Tom is not choosing his targets randomly. I fear there is method to his madness."

    Harry pounded a fist angrily into the desk before him. "DAMN IT! Who is it? What's he done…"

    "Early this morning Sirius flooed me an urgent note on an item he'd just seen over the Muggle news. Privet Drive in Little Whinging was attacked," said Dumbledore, with a regretful look on his face that said he wished he could deliver the news in an easier way. Harry started in surprise. "Your old house at number four, along with another house further down was destroyed. Vernon Dursley was killed."

    Harry stood up suddenly, almost knocking the chair beneath him to the floor. "No! It can't… that doesn't make any sense! You've always said that house is safe what with my mother's sacrifice being such a strong ward and Aunt Petunia sharing the same blood… You said the magic protecting me was ancient and almost unbreakable!"

    Dumbledore's head nodded down as if from under too much weight. "You are right, Harry. And as long as you were there, the wards and protections that followed you made the residence safe. However, the moment you leave it… Harry every September when you've come back to school, the protection has left with you. Do you remember six years ago how Professor Quirrel, possessed by Voldemort, was not able to touch you? The sacrifice Lily made placed that magical bond over you, not the house. Although the bond your Aunt Petunia shares with you makes the magic that much stronger when you're there, you, not the house itself, are what has made the residence safe. I can only imagine Voldemort had specific reason for waiting to attack the Dursleys now."

    For a moment Harry, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, could only sit and stare. Uncle Vernon, dead… He wasn't sure how to feel. He had very few relatives left in the world, and he felt even after all the Dursleys had put him through over the years he should feel, if not sadness, at least some type of remorse. However, all he felt was a glaring emptiness. When he'd gathered himself enough to clear his mind, he asked the next obvious question.

    "Aunt Petunia and Dudley... are they..."

    "Alive," said Dumbledore quickly, "though quite shaken and a bit banged up for it. Your Aunt was with your cousin in his room this morning it seems, something to do with a nightmare he'd had from what I've understood. There was a loud explosion on the first floor. Apparently your uncle made your aunt and cousin stay put and went downstairs to fight off the intruders." Dumbledore shook his grizzled white head and sighed sadly.

    "Though he did manage to get one of them, even with a shotgun a Muggle is no match for three Death Eaters …"

    Harry was cognisant enough to wonder quickly how Dumbledore knew about Muggle firearms before his thoughts took him back to more pressing matters.

    "And how did Aunt Petunia and Dudley escape?"

    "Petunia heard what had happened and somehow found the presence of mind to take Dudley and escape out of his window. They fled to one of the neighbours houses."

    Harry dropped his hands from his face and sat upright. "From Dudley's window!? On the second floor? How did they manage?"

    "They jumped Harry," said Dumbledore with a bit of respect in his voice. "Your Aunt Petunia suffered from a few sprains…unfortunately Dudley broke one of his ankles and wrists. Had quite a bit more bulk for the fall, I imagine. Only moments later members of the Order showed on the scene, but they were too late for your Uncle." Dumbledore gazed sadly at the younger man sitting before him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

    Harry merely thinned his lips and nodded. He hated himself for the little emotion he was feeling over his uncle's death. Though the man had shown almost no kindness to him in the whole sixteen years he'd been living with him, he was human, and family. The thought that he felt almost nothing but regret that Voldemort had struck again made Harry's insides squirm with guilt.

    "So… Aunt Petunia and Dudley… Where've they been taken?"

    "Well, first let me say their injuries have been healed. Madame Pomfrey flooed straight away to their new temporary place of residence to take care of it, though you can be sure she did endure quite a bit of protest over the use of magic." And here, despite the situation, Harry noticed Dumbledore almost couldn't hide the twinkle that suddenly lit his eyes.

    "You must understand Harry, we couldn't very well leave them without protection in the Muggle world. Of course, to stay at Hogwarts was never a possibility, and there are too many untrustworthy wizards and witches at the ministry to let them in on, so the Endangered Muggle Relocation Program is out of the question. We had to put them somewhere they would be protected; somewhere completely hidden from sight… Your godfather has generously offered to share his estate with them."

    Harry sat bolt-upright in shock. "Grimmauld Place!? You've sent Aunt Petunia and Dudley to Grimmauld Place!?"

    He clawed a hand through his hair. Despite himself, an image of Aunt Petunia having a simultaneous coronary/stroke over the bachelor-like, wizarding state of the house, and Dudley hiding behind her, as pale and shaking with fright as her and again pressing a hand over his arse, played through his mind. For a moment, Harry felt as if some sort of sick, inappropriate laughter might suddenly come bursting out. Eloquent words left him as he stared open-mouthed at the Headmaster.

    "Holy shit."

    Dumbledore favoured him with a wan smile and sighed. "Though I do wish I had no more bad news for you Harry, unfortunately there is still the matter of the other destroyed house further down from number four. It was Arabella Figg's residence, I am deeply saddened to say. She was killed as well."

    Harry's gaze snapped up to Dumbledore's once more. Gods, Mrs. Figg… Merlin, she'd done nothing but live quietly by herself; a lonely old woman with too many cats for company. Nevertheless, for probably as many years as he had lived at number four she had been keeping watch over him and reporting his welfare to Dumbledore. Voldemort must have somehow found out about her... No. Not somehow. The dementors two years ago... directly following their attack could they have seen Mrs. Figg running toward him? Upon retrospect, it was almost certain they were working for Voldemort, then and now. It was probably also how Voldemort knew to find the Dursleys...

    Harry found he had very little to say he wanted Dumbledore to hear. Here again was another person who had lost her life simply because she knew him. And the real bitch of it all, was there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. Whatever sick headgame Voldemort was playing with him, he was giving him no out. If he was trying to draw Harry out, why the bloody hell wasn't he giving him somewhere to meet him and end everything? What other reason was there except simply to torture him? Perhaps for all of it, the torture aspect was strictly the only reason. If it were true, that would make Tom Riddle an even sicker bastard than previously thought.

    "Though members of the Order have informed Muggle authorities of the reality of the situation, they've officially reported what happened at number four and ten as related gas main explosions to prevent panic," said Dumbledore. He studied Harry carefully for a few moments before he next spoke.

    "Now, not only wizarding officials, but Muggle ones as well have been made known of Voldemort's renewed threat. We can only conclude he now wants his presence known throughout the entirety of England."

    "England…" Harry had been bowed low in his chair with his face in his hands, but he now sat up and eyed Dumbledore.

    "Purging just England of half bloods and Muggles won't satisfy that mental son of a bitch," he said bluntly. "He won't rest until he's done the world Professor, mark my words."

    Dumbledore eyed him and nodded slowly before his clasped hands. "You are right, Harry. England and our part of Scotland is just the beginning for Tom. It is for this reason even now, several Aurors, Hit Wizards and members of Magical Law Enforcement not deceived by the Ministry's lack of belief in Voldemort's return, and loyal to our cause, are in extra training with the Order of the Phoenix. Some others are being sent to recruit as many creatures of our world we feel might be sympathetic to our cause."

    "Recruit…" Harry's gaze flew back to Dumbledore once more. "Which creatures? Who?"

    "Whomever in the end will stand with those on our side and fight. Centaurs, giants, goblins, even freed house elves… Voldemort is almost certainly recruiting his own army even as we speak," said Dumbledore wearily. "We've always believed the discord and division in our world would cause a rift that would one day culminate in war. That time is now fast approaching, it seems."

    Harry nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed with the overflow of information he was receiving, and impatient to share it with Hermione. "And the Aurors and Ministry Wizards… where are they being trained?"

    "Inverness, Scotland at a secure location. They've been apparating weekly for extra training, if and when final war is made reality," said Dumbledore, leaning forward to clasp his long-fingered hands in front of him and once again peering seriously at Harry over his glasses. "Our situation is dire, indeed Harry. Between our factions, more than ever before the threat of war is most imminent. You've known for some time the final battle with Voldemort himself was to be in your hands. It is for this reason I ask you to begin training with James at the sword, and using your abilities with wandless magic, harder than ever you have before."

    Harry stared at him for a moment and then spoke. "I've been in training with dad since the beginning of the year. Our last class of the day is with him. He and I spend an hour extra on the sword, and I do regularly use wandless magic."

    Dumbledore nodded but fixed Harry with a grave look. "I am aware. James has kept me informed of your progress. He's stated many times you're a natural at the sword and that your wandless use of magic is improving. However, I want you to understand something, Harry. The real situation will be far removed from the quiet, twofold environment you share in James' classroom. You must be capable of concentration amidst a chaos of commotion and sound. You must be able to focus your magic; at times, even centralising on two tasks at once while confusion and disorder surge round you. When the final conflict takes place, I would be sorely remiss in allowing you to be ill prepared. I could never stand for it, especially for a member of…" Having said this, Dumbledore paused and for a moment seemed heavily burdened by something. When he next spoke, his voice was melancholy and more subdued than Harry had ever heard it.

    "I could never forgive myself for it, Harry."

    With the sudden unexpected show of emotion Dumbledore had just done, Harry felt for a moment oddly out of sorts. He scrutinised the Headmaster carefully for a moment, but when it became obvious he was going to get no explanation for it, Harry leaned uneasily back against his chair, keenly observing him.

    "Alright Professor. It makes sense what you're saying, of course. I'll train harder and longer with my father."

    Dumbledore nodded briefly, and for a moment, seemed to be examining Harry just as closely as Harry had done to him.

    Believing their conversation was over, Harry stood as if to make his way out from the office until Dumbledore's kind, softly rasping voice called to him once more.

    "Harry a moment more, please." He fixed him with a compassionate look, and upon seeing it, Harry immediately found he was sure he did not want to hear what else the Headmaster had to say.

    "I understand you've heard this before and from my own mouth no less," began Dumbledore quietly, "but you mustn't blame yourself for all that has happened. Whether or not Voldemort has been choosing his victims based on their relationships with you, he, and only he is to be condemned. He chose you as his enemy, not the other way round. You've had no choice in any of this."

    I've had choices... Every person I've let into my life I've chosen, thought Harry darkly, and the jury in his mind began screaming accusations at him once again.

    As if Dumbledore could read his thoughts, he continued. "I wonder Harry, if you've ever heard the expression, 'no man is an island, but every one a piece of the continent.' It was written long ago by a quite insightful Muggle named John Donne. Not only does this statement make us realise we need others with us to travel life's journey, but also that what happens to one, happens to all."

    Harry felt that to look into Dumbledore's face would reveal what he was thinking and feeling, so he continued to avoid the professor's eyes. That wise, penetrating gaze that seemed always able to search out his innermost workings, and that kind old face, the one that every time he saw it, seemed to be almost etched in understanding of him; these were things he couldn't bear to accept tonight. Bill Weasley, Uncle Dursley, Arabella Figg… three people, innocent, yet executed… and their only crimes had been knowing him.

    If he had been looking though, Harry would have seen the Professors face lined with more than understanding. As he continued, he also peered at him with concern.

    "You're father has spoken with me on this 'renewed covenant' you've recently made with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and on the strange occurrences following. I believe as they, your father, and you do that your meeting those two was by no means chance. I believe it was meant to be. Why Sibyl's prediction with you and Voldemort having to kill the other came first, before her most recent ones, we'll never know. However, it is certain she is correct in that you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley are somehow bound on more levels than simple friendship. Your entire careers at Hogwarts are living proof of it. Except for a few glaring instances, you three have always faced challenges together. As much as Ronald and Hermione need you to fight against the evil that is threatening our world, you need them. Don't turn your back on them, Harry. Don't try facing these challenges on your own. Don’t try fighting the pain on your own. As much as you fail to accept it, this war involves all of us. Whether or not Voldemort's victims have had some connection with you, the fact is certain, there would have been victims. If not Bill, Arabella and your Uncle Dursley, it would have inevitably been others. Know this, Harry. You are neither the cause, nor the blame. But where Voldemort is concerned, you will in the end be the deciding factor."

    Dumbledore then looked gently and sincerely at him. "And if I were able, I would take your place."

    Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and found himself staring into the Headmaster's eyes in slight confusion. Why would anyone wish his place on themselves? However, the answer he found staring back at him, more than the question left him confused and feeling slightly uneasy, as if something else were being hidden from him…

    He stood quickly. "I need... I've got to go. I need to talk with… with someone."

    Dumbledore nodded and watched him sadly as he left, letting the solid oak door concealing the revolving staircase click shut behind him.

    "Go talk with her Harry," he whispered.

    ********************************************

    Draco pushed open the gigantic oak doors of Hogwarts and stalked out into a late January evening. He had had only a few minutes before the house elves automatically apparated away the remains of supper to bolt down a bit of it, and had taken a moment to survey the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall for the weather.

    It was no surprise then, when he stepped out into a drizzling, depressing dark blue and black evening lit only by the moon, with a scattering of grey clouds just for adding a bit of drab colour.

    He pulled his heavy wool cloak tighter about him and shoved his hands into his pockets to ward off the cold and icy drizzle. Without even having to think much, he knew where he was headed. Besides the large tree growing just outside the Quidditch pitch, to him there was no better area for thinking at night than by the lake. He began walking towards the area where the thickest brush and plants grew. In case someone else had decided on an evening walk as well, he would be well hidden sitting there, away from intruding eyes and mouths.

    Gods... he had problems enough to work through and worry on without Nott poking his bastarding nose in. The letter from Lucius practically ordered him to begin using Ginny and any other means necessary in order to gain information on what Dumbledore's resistance was next planning. How he was supposed to just happen upon such information, being in the right place at the right time, was beyond him. He wondered just who it was at Hogwarts Voldemort already had working for him and gleaning information.

    Malfoy had no desire to see Voldemort win the war, even if it meant Potter had to win to fix it. And it was just thoughts like these he knew Voldemort might catch him on if and when he decided at any given moment to focus his uncanny mind on him. He tried keeping his thoughts well hidden, but at times they would slip past when his defences were down. It would only take one lapsing moment while Voldemort was centred on him to doom him.

    These thoughts hammered at his mind as he stepped round a large clump of bushes, and found himself coming to an abrupt halt, staring at the back of quite possibly the last person he needed to see at the moment. Right then, Malfoy came to think it was a distinct possibility he was cursed.

    Ginny sat with her back toward Hogwarts and her knees drawn up toward her chest, watching the lake ripple thousands of multiplying rings with each tiny drop of rain. The moon shone as a huge lump of gold towards the back of the water, sending a great golden beam of light beginning large and ending small towards the shore. The end of it seemed to land on her head, making her damp red hair shine.

    Damn.

    She must have just got back from the hospital. As he wrestled with himself on what to do, indecision clenched at his stomach. He shouldn't get close to her again; it was exactly what his father and the dark bastard wanted, yet if he didn't, he was taking a dangerous risk. Nott's threat darkened his thoughts as well. Besides the glaring notion that he might very well not anymore have a home or inheritance to live on after school, these were the least of his worries. His life ending prematurely had decidedly landed the top of the list.

    If he was stealthy enough, he might be able to back away before she saw or heard him. It was for the best.

    He began moving backward slowly, his feet making no noise on the damp ground, until without turning or even indicating she'd heard him approach, Ginny's bitter voice shattered the quiet, sounding rather odd and echoless in the openness of the grounds.

    "You're not leaving on my account… Don't think for one minute I care what you do."

    Malfoy's heart gave an odd jump at her voice, and he gritted his teeth for it. Damn it to hell.

    "How the bloody hell…"

    "The lake, Draco. Acts as a sort of mirror at times; reflects things. Amazing, I know."

    "I was just... I didn't know you were out here, Red."

    "Obviously," she said blandly.

    Malfoy thinned his lips in anger, but he would find later, it was more at himself than at her. "I hate to disappoint you, but I can walk anyplace I damn well please. Last I checked, this wasn't private property."

    To his surprise, Ginny hardly reacted to his statement and turned her face to the side. "Seems the week is just full of surprises then. Last I checked, I was still a virgin."

    Malfoy grimaced. He'd known the time for this conversation would be soon, but he felt now was definitely not the time.

    "I'm sorry for that... really. Look, I'll just go and leave you to it, alright?"

    However, as he moved to walk away, Ginny stood to her feet abruptly, turned, and glared at him. Her nose and eyes were reddened, and he could see wet trails running the length of her cheeks. Gods… he'd never known what to do with a crying female. Bloody hell.

    "Running away are we?" said Ginny harshly, but the shakiness in her voice belied her in control exterior. "I've just got one question… What in the bloody hell possessed you?"

    Draco found himself getting instantly defensive, just as he always did when confronted by someone. Old habits died hard. "What d'you…"

    "I mean I might understand you wanting to brag to your entire house about shagging the poor, gullible Weasley witch had we actually done it..."

    "I don't brag shit to any of my housemates Red," said Malfoy.

    "Oh no!?" barked Ginny. "Then every one of them just simultaneously came up with the idea on their own, I suppose?"

    Draco thinned his lips and shook his head. "That bastard Nott started spreading round our house you were easy."

    "And you had nothing to do with it, I suppose…"

    "Not with that no," said Malfoy, with his hands balled frustratedly in his pockets. "I told father I was just shagging you to throw him off our trail. I never expected him to brag it to anyone…"

    "What was it then?" Ginny cut him off in a hard voice.

    Draco blinked at her. "Wha... I don't know what you're... "

    "Was ruining mine and my family's reputation not enough for you? Did you and your father have a nice sit together to plan his attack on my dad and brothers!?"

    "What the hell're you..." began Draco, completely confounded. "I had nothing to do with that!"

    "Oh right," cried Ginny, taking a step back from him. "You've always hated my family! What was it you've always called us? Blood traitors? An embarrassment to pureblood wizards? I'll bet you threw a right large celebration once you'd heard my brother was killed!"

    "Your talking about Lucius Red," stated Draco in a hard tone. "Not me."

    "I'm talking about ALL of the Malfoy's!" yelled Ginny, choking on her sobs and pointing an accusing finger at him. "It WAS your father who murdered Bill, they've found, did you know!? Charlie woke earlier this afternoon and told us everything. Very early in the morning he, father and Bill were headed some thirty yards behind our house to portkey to their guard positions. Your father and two of his son of a bitch underlings jumped them from behind!"

    Draco sighed and shifted his feet. He wasn't sure what to do or how to react. It was obvious Ginny was hurting and simply taking it out on him and yet, he was completely unequipped to handle it.

    "I'm sorry... but I had nothing to do with... "

    "My mum found them in the field behind our house a couple of hours later when she headed out to do some gardening," spat Ginny hoarsely, "did you know!? My own mum found them!"

    "Gods… I’m sorry Red. Really…"

    Ginny made a snorting sound and began to walk round him to head back toward the castle. "Don't lie! You've always hated my family! I should've listened to Ron… He told me you were just using me… He told me not to fool myself into thinking you really cared for me…"

    "I do, damn it!…"

    Ginny whirled round to glare at him. "Sure… sure you do. Well save yourself some time and effort and don't bother! I don't need the Malfoy type of caring, do I!? I'd rather keep the rest of my family!"

    Draco growled angrily in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you Red, I really am. But I had nothing to do with it for shitsake!"

    However, Ginny only narrowed wet, swollen eyes at him and hissed quietly. "Just you stay away from me."

    She turned on her heel to stride back up to the castle, but Draco grabbed her arm and spun her to him. She stared back at him with a startled look mixed with, to Malfoy's surprise, a bit of fear. He recoiled instantly and dropped her arm. She really must now equate him with his father. But no matter. If it kept her away from him, and accordingly, his instructions from his father, it did the job.

    "I will," Draco seethed through his teeth in almost a whisper, though he felt as if he were dying inside. "But you remember something. It's my father, and his instructions from Voldemort that's done this, and it's not over. I would never hurt you or your family, whatever you may think of me… But Voldemort won't stop until everyone who stands against him is done in. He has loads of people on his side. Even now he has some spy in the castle working to get information on Dumbledore and Potter. He's a mental son of a bitch, Ginny. Don't at any time think you're safe. Don't ever stop looking over your shoulder, and don't think he's done with your family. As long as any of you breathe he won't be through, you hear me?… Anyone who isn't for him is against him, pureblood or not. And whether or not you believe it, by the end he'll want me dead as well."

    Ginny stared up at him, watching conflicting emotions flit across his face just as steadily as they did over hers. She found herself unable to say anything else, so she simply nodded brusquely at him and turned to walk back to the castle, sensing his eyes on her the entire way.

    Malfoy sighed as he watched her go, feeling as if he had been wrung dry, and left for dead. There was no one left, now. He truly was alone, but by now, he'd got used to it. He'd always been alone, really. But at least it had taught him to be resourceful. He had never had anyone else to help him through much of anything, and he had known all along his time with Ginny had been nothing more than a breath; a short sigh of reprieve. However, he hardened his jaw with an iron-like resolve as he began to walk round the lake. Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a survivor.

    *************************************************

    Harry swung Sir Cadogen's portrait open with only a wave of his hand, startling the knight so much he fell from his backwards perch on his horse to land to the ground with a loud clang.

    As he entered, knowing for certain he would find Hermione on their common room couch incessantly cramming for N.E.W.T.s, he had his mouth already open to blurt out to her what Dumbledore had just divulged to him, but the sight before him made him shut it with a quick snap.

    Hermione was there just as he had predicted, surrounded by parchments and opened books and quills with her knees drawn up to her chest, but Ron sat beside her, with Lavender Brown on his other side holding his hand. His whole form was slumped on the couch and bent with a type of heavy depression Harry had never seen on him, and his eyes and nose were still red and swollen from a recent bout of crying. Harry could see Hermione and Lavender had been crying with him.

    Without looking up, Ron spoke quietly, sounding congested. " 'Lo mate."

    Harry stood staring for a few seconds not sure what to do, until Hermione beckoned silently to him with her hand to come sit with them. He approached slowly and sat himself down carefully next to Hermione, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to peer at Ron.

    "Ron… something else happen?" He asked dreading the answer.

    "No… nothing like you think. Mum's just set the funeral date for Bill." Ron sighed and pulled himself up a bit straighter. "March first. He'll be buried in the field behind the Burrow where he was found. Mum says it's fitting…also said she wanted him near, you know… so she can visit him often."

    "I'm sorry mate." Harry's throat began to ache. "Where's Ginny?"

    "Wouldn't come here with me," said Ron. "I told her it would do her good to be with friends, but she said she'd rather be alone. Can't blame her, I suppose. She's always been that way."

    Harry sighed. "Yeah she has… though I wish she wasn't."

    Ron simply nodded and clawed a hand through his shorter red hair. "Charlie's awake, too."

    Harry looked at him quickly. "That's good mate… has he said anything?"

    Ron paused for a few moments, staring at his hands, which he began gripping and ungripping before Lavender grabbed one of them back from him again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

    "He's still a bit out of it," said Ron quietly, his voice suddenly turning bitterly cold. "But he did manage a few details… like who attacked them."

    The change did not slip Harry's notice.

    "I've had an idea…who did he name?"

    "Lucius Malfoy," said Ron in a dangerously icy, numb voice. "Charlie's also said one of the others might've been Bellatrix Lestrange, he thinks. Said before she cursed him he yanked her mask and caught a bit of her face. Thought he recognised her from the photos in the Prophet."

    Harry let his back slap against the couch and scowled through his teeth. "I don't doubt it."

    Silence ruled for a while, and Hermione continued to glance from Ron, who was being consoled and whispered to by Lavender, to Harry, giving him worried glances and grabbing onto his hand. Harry understood what she was conveying to him. Ron looked almost murderous. He must feel now, some of the same emotions toward Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters that Harry himself had carried round in his heart toward Voldemort. He now knew how it felt to have a family member murdered. The change in Ron was evident, and Harry hoped the cold, dead feeling would stay surface enough not to drain down into his soul. He'd had enough experience with it himself, and it was a diseased, festering thing; almost impossible to cut away from oneself once it took root.

    Harry decided then, that it was time he told Hermione and Ron of what Dumbledore had just revealed to him. Though he loathed throwing more anxiety into the mix, if he didn't tell them now, he was certain he would never. A constant wall seemed to continue building itself around his insides, brick after brick, layer upon layer. He could almost feel its effort to reach the top. Bill is dead… a cemented brick slapped onto another. Clink… Charlie and Mr. Weasley injured… Clink… Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Figg, dead… Clink… Murdered. All to get at me. Clink.

    Harry forced the darkness away. Now was not the time. "I've got more bad news, I'm afraid."

    Instinctively, Hermione scooted closer to him and grabbing at his arm in an effort to prepare herself. Lavender sat up suddenly, and Ron for his part, glanced at him with an almost anaesthetised look on his face, as if his head were trapped in a fog.

    "Go on. It can't get much worse."

    It can Ron. It will. "This morning, Sirius flooed Dumbledore. Last night Death Eaters attacked Little Whinging and my Uncle Vernon and Arabella Figg were attacked… they're dead."

    Lavender gasped and bolted to her feet. "B..but they were Muggles, weren't they!?"

    "Mrs. Figg was a squib, so she might as well have been," said Harry quietly. "They never had a chance."

    "Oh my god," Lavender sat again and spoke breathlessly to Ron. "Ron I've… I've got to go. I've got to owl and see that my parents are all right and that they've heard… We live near Surrey… please understand… I'll be back soon."

    Ron nodded and kissed her cheek. " 'Course. Go on."

    Lavender stood and nodded to Harry and Hermione before sprinting toward the portrait door and throwing it open, letting it slam shut behind her.

    Silence fell in the room so heavily, it seemed almost alive and breathing. That was until, Ron spoke quietly.

    "I'll kill them, you know."

    Both Harry and Hermione suddenly turned to look at him. It was the first time he'd finally looked both of them full in the face since Harry had entered the common room earlier, and the expression on his face was full of determined hatred.

    "Ron…" began Hermione, her voice shaking a bit.

    "Don't say it, 'Mione," said Ron with a deadly quiet, his body completely still. "I don't care what you think on this… you either, Harry. When time comes, when Voldemort finally sends for you mate, I'll be right there. I'm going to make sure they're both done in; the third bastard as well when I find him out. All of them, mark my words."

    Harry knew it was useless to try talking to him on it. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he would say to him if he could. He wanted just as badly to kill Voldemort; for the deaths of his parents, for Hermione's kidnap and torture only last year, and for the ones he had killed and undoubtedly would kill in the near future.

    He knew that kind of hatred, the kind that ran too deep… the kind that flooded wide and high, utterly filling. With practice you could keep it from completely drowning you, though Harry knew Ron had had little experience. Harry found he again didn't have the words to help Ron or anyone else. It was like a drained pitcher trying to fill another, almost empty other than a few drips.

    "Ron… I know how you feel. I'm sorry. It's all I've got." Harry put his arm round Hermione, who grabbed Ron's hand, and his and held tight. "I know he's not done though, mate. There'll be others..."

    "Soon, I know." Ron nodded almost blankly and settled back against the couch again. "It's clear, isn't it? He's baiting you until he's ready."

    As soon as he had said it though, Ron knew how Harry must feel upon hearing his own worst thoughts spoken aloud, and he knew him enough to know what he must feel.

    "But we don't blame you Harry," said Ron clearly, piercing him with a serious look. "You can't claim fault for that sick bastard."

    Harry nodded in agreement but Hermione caught the faltering in his eyes and squeezed his hand. He turned to her and she leaned forward, placing her forehead on his.

    "He's right," she whispered. "Listen to him."

    At the absurdity of hearing Hermione entreat him to listen to Ron's opinion, which she normally held in a bit of low regard, Harry began to smile. His first smile of the day, and it suddenly occurred to him that those facial muscles had been sadly long, underused.

    The insanity and utter derangement of it all played havoc with his emotions. He felt suddenly as if he would like nothing more than to scream aloud until his voice gave way, or punch something, to pound and pound it until it was left as nothing but a splintered pile of rubbish, to laugh hysterically until it ultimately ended in sobbing… to jump out from his skin and take someone else's.

    However, if he had known what was to come in comparison, the complete underwhelming of what had already occurred would have shocked him into silence.

    A tapping came to the window, and all three turned to see a large brown barn owl with a scroll tied to its leg banging its beak against the window, the cold drizzle on its feathers illuminated by the moon.

    Harry's heart sank as if weighted. Owl post never came this late unless it was…

    Hermione stood to approach the window, but Harry quickly grabbed her hand and pushed her back to the couch, shaking his head sternly at her and placing a hand quickly to her face.

    "I'll go."

    Pulling out his wand even though he rarely needed it somehow made him feel more armed, and Harry neared the window slowly, throwing it open quickly and stepping back with his wand arm outstretched. The sudden action startled the owl into flying backward from his perch for a moment, but he had been well trained. He returned instantly, and stuck his leg out.

    Harry hesitated and then quickly untied the letter from her leg, watching her again as she flew off into the wet darkness of the sky.

    He sat himself on the couch and Hermione and Ron surrounded him instantly as he charmed the letter to unroll.

    The chosen first are not the last

    Peaceful reprieve is now elapsed.

    A short delaying of the hour

    Then hard and swift a heavy power.

    A mighty fist and sweep of hand

    A cleansing reckoning at command

    Grieve and bow with bent soul hollow

    Tell me, who is next to follow?

    Harry, Hermione and Ron sat slowly back against the couch together, one after the other, feeling, on anything still dependable in their lives, more shaken than ever before; because at any time, in any still, unassuming moment, it might be ripped away.

    As for Harry, just as he felt himself closer, crawling back to the ones he loved, he encountered the accusing jury inside his mind; the one that screamed his blame, and the one that held him accountable for everything.

    And part of it, he knew was true.