Circle's Close

Chapter 1: Meeting the Grangers
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Harry spends his last two weeks with Hermione at the Grangers, but for Harry, it's no picnic in the sun. Find out what happens when Harry is faced with the prospect of meeting Mr Granger as Hermione's boyfriend.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: First, I must thank my amazing beta and friend, Gary Skinner. He's great at what he does, and without him, this story wouldn't exist. And secondly: to my readers and reviewers of "Snow." Because without your wonderful support, I wouldn't want this story to exist. Because I wouldn't want to write it. Thank you all!

Author's Note: Well, here it is. The sequel that I promised. Ain't I a quick one? You may or may not find that this story starts off slow, and there are reasons for that. At least here's the most obvious answer: it starts off slow because it's more of a romance/drama/mystery more than a full action-packed story. But in truth, it starts off slow because originally I had no idea where I was going with the story. But now I do. :D

Feel free to leave a review, (as it's the only sure way that I'll know if you're enjoying the story). And the more responses I receive, the quicker I'll be at posting the next chapter. See? It's a give-give relationship, eh?

I would also like to point out a slight warning: the majority of this story was written before OotP, so some things definitely don't follow canon. (Just like in "Snow"). However, I hope you can still enjoy the story, in spite of that little detail!

Well enough of my babbling! Go and read the story! And enjoy it!

Harry Potter's stomach gave a sudden nervous lurch, like the feeling someone would get when on a roller coaster, slowly speeding upwards before the big drop. The title "The boy who lived" typically provided a sense of comfort for him during one of these moments, and even now that reassurance was quickly fading. He tried to tell himself firmly that everything would be all right. Everything would work out. But the cloud of doubt kept hovering over him, stubbing out that optimistic voice.

Because today would be the day he arrived at the Grangers. Upon receiving a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry found out that he would be the Head Boy for his 7th and last year at the wonderful school of magic. He found out as well that Hermione, his soul mate, would become Head Girl. As soon as he had receieved his Hogwarts letter, Hedwig had flown into his bedroom with a note from Hermione.

Her parents wanted to meet him. The letter also had said that they would be having a quiet celebration in honor of the Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts. This was the reason he was nervous. He had already met the Grangers in the past, who were very nice people, and had always been wonderful to Harry.

He wouldn't be meeting them as Hermione's best friend, but as Hermione's boyfriend. He had never worried about meeting his girlfriends' parents before. Sure, he had had dates inside of Hogwarts, where one would never have to worry about peering eyes, scolding parents, the unfairness of having an over protective, psychotic father. Outside of Hogwarts he never dated and Hermione had been the only one he was serious about. Not that it mattered anymore. He was sure he would never survive her father and he cringed for the hundredth time just thinking about it.

"This is it," announced the driver.

Harry pulled himself out of his self-pitying state and stepped out of the cab that was now sitting in the Grangers driveway. Already Hermione, bushy brown hair, tanned body, wearing shorts and a tank top, was speeding out of the house at top speed. Apparently she had been waiting by the window for his arrival.

"Harry!" she shouted as she launched herself into his arms.

He laughed happily at her enthusiasm, and quickly responded to the hug. It had only been two weeks since he last saw her, but those two weeks were torture, and suddenly the prospect of being murdered by her father didn't seem to matter anymore. He was with his true love.

The cab driver smiled in amusement as he heaved Harry's own trunk out of the trunk of the car.

"There you go. You're all set," he told Harry, again peering closely at the lightning bolt shaped scar beneath his ebony bangs.

Harry paid the driver, thanked him, and Hermione helped by taking Hedwig's cage.

They walked side by side to the house, Hermione chatting non-stop.

"Was the trip OK? Are you hungry? Did it take a while? When was the last time you ate? Isn't this exciting!"

Harry laughed, trying to answer every one of her questions.

"The trip was long and boring," he replied honestly. "Which makes me appreciate my arrival all the more."

Hermione grinned and nudged closer to him as the reached the veranda.

"I've missed you," she said softly, gently pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed her back and pulled back nervously.

"I've missed you, too," he told her as he glanced anxiously around him. Hermione caught the nervousness in his voice, and the way his eyes twitched in every direction.

"He won't hurt you," she soothed.

Harry's eyes widened.

"What makes you think so?" he asked. She giggled. He just looked so cute.

"I've lived with the man all my life. I should know a little about how he acts towards my friends," she said and added, "Besides, it's not like you haven't met him before."

"Oh, Hermione. It's not the same," he said quietly. The last thing he needed was for Mr Granger to be lurking around the corner, eavesdropping on their conversation about him.

"I understand. Really I do. But you're getting all worked up for nothing," she insisted, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He nodded slowly, and motioned for her to open the door since both of his hands were occupied with the now growing heavier trunk.

Hermione swung the door open and called out to her parents as they both stepped inside.

"Oh good, Harry, you've made it," Mrs Granger called out happily as both she and Mr Granger stepped into view from deep within the house.

"Hello, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger," Harry greeted.

"Hello, Harry. The trip was fine I hope?" Mr Granger asked with a non-threatening smile.

At this, Harry started to feel the nervousness automatically returning. No one but Hermione noticed this, and Harry had to wonder why he was so terrified of Hermione's father. What was it about girlfriends' fathers that made them so intimidating?

"It was fine. Long, but fine," Harry replied before being led around the house as Hermione gave him the tour.

After a delicious dinner that involved barbecued chicken, baked potato, and corn on the cob, and after a scrumptious desert of apple cobbler and ice cream, Hermione showed Harry to his room, the spare bedroom right across the hall from her own bedroom.

"My parents were a little nervous, knowing that you'd be right across the hall from me," Hermione giggled. Harry chuckled in amusement as Hermione continued to chat away.

"Like we'd ever do anything in their presence. Honestly," she added.

Harry nodded in agreement, looking around the room.

"It's not your four poster, I know...," Hermione said, feeling a little anxious.

"No, it's perfect. As long as I'm here with you," and he pulled her close, getting lost in her scent. A mixture of vanilla and citrus.

"I'd sleep in the depths of Hell to be with you," he said softly into her hair.

Hermione sighed happily, lifting up her face to meet his emerald gaze. Every time she saw him she could swear that those eyes became more bright, more clear. Just like they were now.

"I love you," she said, and he smiled as he lowered his lips to her own, ignoring the fear of being caught by her own parents.

"I love you, too." He closed the gap and she moaned into the kiss, suddenly realizing just how much she had missed him. His loving kisses, his strong hands, and the way her body responded to him.

They broke apart from the passionate kiss and hand in hand they both headed back downstairs to sit with her parents.

"We were just discussing where we should go for dinner, darling," Mrs Granger informed them as they sat on the sofa.

"I thought we could go to Gusto's," Mr Granger suggested.

Hermione glanced at Harry and nodded. He shrugged politely.

"I think it sounds good. Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Well, to be honest, I've never even heard of it," Harry said.

"It's an Italian restaurant. Great food, great prices, great service and dancing," Mr Granger informed him.

"It's very cozy. I love it there," Mrs Granger said and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Sure. I love Italian," Harry agreed and Hermione squeezed his hand, giving him a loving smile.

"All right then, it's set. We'll go to Gusto's. It's semi-formal. So that means..."

"No jeans and tank tops," Mrs Granger finished, glancing meaningfully at her daughter.

Hermione giggled and nodded. "I'll find something nice to wear. Don't worry. Maybe we could go shopping. Did you bring anything?" Hermione asked Harry.

He nodded.

"But I may have to buy a new shirt. I don't like the one I have," he said regretfully.

"Then we'll go shopping tomorrow," said Hermione.

The two parents and the two young lovers continued chatting for the remainder of the evening.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, a blank look on his face. Sleep would not come easily tonight. At three in the morning, the rest of the house was deathly silent, so with that Harry got up from his bed, stepped into the hallway, forced himself downstairs, (as opposed to bedroom that was across from his own) and made his way outside to the backyard. He had a yearning to try out the porch swing that he had seen in their backyard earlier.

The stars were crisp and clear tonight. Not a cloud anywhere to be seen. The moon was full and shone what light that illuminated the backyard. Thinking of the full moon made Harry think of Remus Lupin. Thinking of Remus made Harry think about his godfather. Thinking about Sirius Black made Harry ponder about the home he missed terribly.

He hadn't been there for long, but it hadn't taken him that long to grow accustomed to the new home he shared with his godfather. He wondered if he was alright. But then, Harry had to remind himself that Sirius had survived twelve years in Azkaban, and had dodged the ministry for another three years after that.

"He's fine," he told himself.

"Who's fine?" came a voice behind him. Harry spun around in the porch swing, trying to find the owner of the voice. Upon finding it, his stomach did loops, turns and flips he didn't know was capable of doing.

"I'm sorry, Mr Granger. I couldn't sleep," Harry apologized quickly, aware he sounded like a very frightened ten-year-old. He scoffed at himself. He could face Voldemort, the Dark and powerful Lord himself, and he couldn't face a muggle dentist.

Mr Granger put up a hand to stop Harry from further apologies.

"Can I sit?" he asked. Harry's eyes widened and he nodded, sliding over to give Mr Granger some room.

"I couldn't sleep either, to be honest. I suppose it's difficult to, when you know your daughter is just twenty feet away from her boyfriend," Mr Granger told him.

Harry's face contorted to a look of horror.

"I...I--I'd never..."

"Not you, Harry. It's Hermione," the older man said.

Harry's jaw dropped and Mr Granger continued to speak as though he didn't notice this.

"She's been going on and on about you non stop. She loves you. I can see that even without her saying so. Both her mother and I know it's taking a lot of willpower for her not to go to you at night. But she promised us. It's part of the reason why we let her have you here," Mr Granger told him.

It occurred to Harry that Hermione's father was not only someone you should never cross, but he was also someone you could trust. Someone you could look to for advice, or speak to in confidentiality. He realized that Mr Granger actually trusted him enough to tell him this.

He also knew that Mr Granger was wrong about one thing. It was taking both Hermione and himself a lot of willpower not to go to each other at night. But he didn't want to correct her father on that matter. He would let him think what he wanted. He figured it was better than facing his wrath.

"So tell me about your godfather," Mr Granger said, breaking Harry from his thoughts.

Harry's spirits brightened slightly at this opportunity. "Hermione must have told you...that he was an escaped..."

"Convict...who's innocent. Yes I know. How was it that his name got cleared?" he asked.

"Oh...The man who actually committed the crime was caught. Sirius came through after hearing this and there was a court case for months. Wormtail--er--Peter Pettigrew, eventually came clean and admitted to the crime. That was what cleared Sirius's name," Harry explained.

"How did this...Pettigrew?" Harry nodded. "How did he get caught?" Mr Granger asked.

Harry shrugged. "I never found out. Sirius told me that Pettigrew screwed up somewhere along the line," he said, and suddenly wondered how Pettigrew really did get caught. Not that it mattered. As long as he was put away for life.

"He was the one who killed your parents," Mr Granger said softly.

Harry nodded, avoiding Mr Granger's caring and thoughtful gaze.

"He didn't actually do the killing. That was Voldemort. Pettigrew sold my parents to Voldemort," Harry explained, and launched into full detail of the Secret Keeper.

"Fascinating," Mr Granger said after Harry finished. "And this Voldemort was the one who gave you that scar. Correct?" he asked.

Harry nodded, reaching up to touch the scar he was referring to. He knew that Mr Granger was just trying to get to know him. In the wee hours of the morning it was a thought that could make him laugh. Mr Granger actually wanted to get to know him? Did that mean he liked him?

"So it's been you, all these years, who Voldemort has been after," Mr Granger finally said.

Harry half shrugged, half nodded, remembering the previous year when Hermione had been the Dark Lord's target. "But we think he's gone for good now. After last year..."

"I heard about that. Hermione gave us a very vague explanation. Usually she's so apt to telling us everything though," Mr Granger added.

Harry grinned. He sincerely hoped that Hermione didn't tell her parents everything.

Thinking about this made Harry suddenly very nervous. Exactly what did Hermione tell her parents? Mr Granger could know everything, and could be playing with Harry's mind. He didn't want to linger very long on these thoughts, afraid his fear would show.

Again he had to wonder what was it about meeting girlfriends' parents. What was it about the idea that sent chills down his spine?

He's a muggle, he could be carrying a shot gun.

"Is something bothering you?" Mr Granger asked. Harry's eyes shot upwards nervously to meet the older man's firm gaze, whose brows were furrowed together in confusion.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking," he answered, and mentally smacked himself for possibly giving himself away. Just then a slow blush crept along his cheeks, thinking of Hermione in ways that would give Mr Granger more than ample reason to pull out that imaginary shot gun.

"You gave her that ring, didn't you?" came Mr Granger's voice, apparently thinking that his reason for nervousness was the fact that Harry had given Hermione a ring nearly a year ago.

"Er, yeah, I did. For Christmas," Harry told him.

This time Harry looked confused. Had Hermione avoided telling her parents the truth behind the ring? Mr Granger seemed to look completely clueless, as though he was seeking answers from him.

Mr Granger nodded thoughtfully, taking liberal breaths. His eyes roamed the vast backyard, strewn with flowerbeds and on the far west of the yard grew a vegetable garden. His eyes then shifted to the dark sky, and he sighed deeply.

"Do you love her?" he finally asked.

His voice was quiet, though thick with emotion. Mr Granger wanted nothing but the best for his daughter, and in the early hours of the morning, he was coming to the conclusion that Harry was the best. He had known the young boy for years now, and not once had Mr Granger ever doubted him. He knew that in time if ever came the day, he could love Harry like the son he never had. Mr Granger sighed again. In fact, he was sure that he already did.

"Yes," came Harry's reply, his voice only betraying his most deep and profound love for the girl that lay asleep in the house, in the room across from his own.

Mr Granger nodded, not pressing the meaning behind the ring. True, Hermione had told them that the Ring had come from Harry, that it was a Promise ring, and nothing more. Yes, Hermione had told both her father and her mother of the Dark Lord's return (and even as he thought this, he could swear he was living a real life fairy tale...Dark Lords...Witches...Wizards...He wondered if he would ever get used to it).

Something had deeply haunted Hermione upon her return. A witch that had too much on her mind. She was happy, Mr Granger had no doubt about that. He was sure that Harry had much to do with that. But there was something about their previous year that Hermione wished to keep to herself. Mr Granger had always thrived on granting ones wishes for privacy. He trusted that in time Hermione would come to him when she was ready.

Mr Granger then looked at Harry, who had a determined look on his face. Harry did not, above anything else, want Hermione's father to doubt his love for her. He knew that if he told him the story of the Ring , that it would cancel out any doubt whatsoever. But knowing Hermione, Harry knew that she had her reasons for secrecy. He would ask her later, when they were alone. For now he stuck to looking fierce, honest, and as challenging as ever.

Mr Granger chuckled softly, aware of Harry's determination. "It's alright, Harry. I believe you. Though you are quite young...not an adult even..."

But Harry cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Not to sound like a hopeless romantic, Mr Granger, and no disrespect intended, but I believe that love holds no boundaries. Including age. My parents, as I found out, fell in love at the same age, and from what I've heard, they were happy until the day they died, and even now, they're still together in the afterlife. I hold no illusions of my love for Hermione. I know it's real. It's the only truth I really know," he told him.

Mr Granger then smiled. Harry was too wise beyond his years. Already in love, planning a future with his own daughter. When he had been 17, he was still in high school, ready to attend University. Becoming a dentist. Career first, family later. Though he hadn't counted on meeting his now wife.

"I believe you, Harry. I hardly think I could doubt you in the slightest, regarding the love you feel for my daughter," Mr Granger said.

Harry cringed inwardly again. He wondered if Mr Granger could see right through him. Could he tell that his and Hermione's relationship was more than just mere affection, and had escalated to making love on warm summer nights? The distinct sound of a shot gun clicked in his mind, and his heart gave a fear-ridden lurch. Mr Granger, Harry knew, most certainly couldn't read minds. Nor could he detect such details in their relationship. Harry mentally checked himself, and the shotgun produced in his mind disappeared abruptly.

"We should get to bed. My wife will start to miss me," Mr Granger said, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry nodded, and silently followed the man inside the house.

Bidding Mr Granger goodnight, Harry made his way to the guest bedroom, only to stop and longingly stare at the door that closed him off to his beloved Hermione.

Opening his door he stepped inside the dark room and closed the door firmly behind him.


To Be Continued...

Chapter 2: Ghost Of A Nightmare
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: In this chapter, a familiar dream begins to haunt Harry and he makes the decision to keep it from Hermione.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: To my beta, Gary Skinner. And to the reviewers from Chapter One. Thank you! At least I know where I stand, and I can continue to post because you "apparently" want to see more. Well, here it is! Chapter two! Enjoy, people.

All Harry could see was green light. Not that of an electric lamp, or of a gentle glow, but only of darkness and evil. It made his blood run cold. Harry hadn't had this nightmare in a long time, at least not since he and Hermione had discovered their growing feelings for each other, and had acted on them.

He was witnessing the death of his parents again. The Killing Curse was always relentless, the screams of his parents deafening to his ears, so terrible in fact, that Harry felt he--himself--was dying. He could never see his parents in these dreams. But he could sense them, as though they were apart of his spiritual being. After being blinded by the bright, green light he only heard a high pitched, icy laughter. Voldemort.

Harry instantly woke up with a start. Knowing it was only a dream while he was dreaming was the only benefit to these nightmares, so he could pull himself out before the face of Voldemort loomed before him, as it had years ago. He could somewhat control these nightmares, another benefit from having them for so long, and for so often. Usually, he could pull himself out well before he could see his parents dying, sacrificing themselves for Harry. Maybe the reason he couldn't pull himself out this time was because he hadn't had the nightmare in a very long time.

Whatever the cause may be, it still didn't stop him from shaking with fear and paranoia. The fact was, it wasn't so much that he had just watched his parents die once again that bothered him so much. The real problem was: the star of the dream was none other than the Dark Lord himself. And that could only mean one thing.

"But it's impossible," Harry told himself firmly, and reached a shaky hand to find his glasses on the nightstand beside him.

Adjusting the glasses to his face, he realized upon looking at the digital clock that sat on the nightstand, that it was indeed morning, and he found the sun beaming happily through the curtains. Ignoring the stab of fear and doubt which was the aftermath of the nightmare, Harry sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side as he concentrated on the sweet aroma of breakfast wafting through the bottom crack of the bedroom door. Pancakes and bacon. His stomach wailed in protest and Harry decided that the dream could wait. After all, there was no pain in his scar. Which meant that he really was paranoid.

He brushed his hair, desperately trying to tame it, all efforts proving futile. He imagined the mirror making some witty remark towards his appearance. Heading downstairs, finally deciding that the Grangers would have to take him as they saw him, he came to the conclusion that he would not disturb Hermione with the dream. Deep down he knew she would want to know, but he personally thought that they were on vacation, and he wasn't going to let anything interupt or ruin their holiday.

It's nothing, he told himself firmly, ignoring the rebuttal his logic shot back.

The things that brightened Harry's morning was being able to sit at breakfast with his girlfriend, and the other was knowing that Mr Granger had accepted him wholeheartedly. The older man didn't say it with words, but Harry could sense it. Perhaps it had a lot to do with the conversation he had had with him the night before, or perhaps Mr Granger had always felt that way, and Harry had been too stubborn and afraid to believe otherwise. The latter was more likely.

Hermione observed her father and Harry from beneath her lashes, hiding the desire to burst with happiness. The moment Harry had walked into the kitchen, she could feel that a weight had been lifted. Harry had finally accepted her father. She knew in her heart that Harry would never feel anything but respect for her father, but he had shown a great fear. That fear seemed to have vanished now.

Hermione felt her heart rise as she heard her father and Harry eased into a conversation about Quidditch. Harry listed off full details of the three types of balls, the positions of the players, what the uniforms looked like, how the points worked, and how to win the Quidditch Cup. Harry explained his job as the Captain and how he had become Seeker. Hermione remembered that day clearly, and in her minds eye she saw 11-year-old Hermione Granger, insisting that Harry could be expelled if he mounted that broom for the first time.

"You seem awfully quiet, dear," Mrs Granger said softly, peering at her daughter with curiosity in her eyes.

"Oh," Hermione said and swallowed down some orange juice. "I was just thinking. Memories have a way of...casting a spell on me...so to speak," she replied, smiling back at her mother.

Mrs Granger smiled and patted her daughter's hand gently.

"Would you like me to drop you and Harry off at the shopping center?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

At this point Harry and Mr Granger turned their attention to the women of their lives.

"Yes, I actually have some shopping I need to do myself. We could all go, separate, and meet up after an hour or two," Mr Granger suggested.

Hermione nodded and smiled in agreement, Harry doing the same. He hadn't shopped in a while. Though he detested shopping for clothes, he knew Hermione would help out in that department. He knew he and Hermione still had to make a trip to Diagon Alley, but that could wait.

"Well I think I'll hop into the shower. We should head out in an hour if we're going to beat the lunchtime traffic," Hermione suggested, and excused herself from the table.

"She's always been the take-charge type," Mr Granger warned Harry after Hermione was out of earshot. Harry grinned.

"Yes, but she wouldn't be Hermione if she wasn't the take-charge type," he answered, getting a nod of approval from Mrs Granger as she stood up to clear the table.

"I'll help clean. It's the least I can do," Harry quickly offered.

"Nonsense, Harry. You're our guest and we want you to be as comfortable as possible. Don't you dare lift a finger!" Mrs Granger snapped, slapping Harry's hand away from the empty plate at Hermione's seat. She gave him a warm smile and sent him to the family room with Mr Granger.

"Now you know where Hermione gets it from," said the older man.

"I heard that!" called out Mrs Granger from the kitchen as Mr Granger cringed.

Harry laughed.

The shopping centre on a Saturday was quite busy, even before lunchtime. Immediately the Grangers separated from the young couple and Harry and Hermione found the first and best store in the whole mall that supplied men's shirts.

"This is perfect," gushed Hermione, lifting a dark blue dress shirt from the rack. Harry observed it, running a hand across the material, and decided that he quite approved of the long sleeved shirt.

"It matches perfectly with your black pants. You are going to look so handsome," Hermione said dreamily.

Harry frowned, and gave what he hoped looked like a pout.

"Hey. What are you trying to say?" Harry replied defensively.

Hermione giggled and linked an arm through his, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"That I love you. And you always look gorgeous. In fact, maybe you shouldn't wear this. You'll have all the girls' attention at Gusto's," Hermione said dejectedly.

Harry rubbed a hand up and down her back and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I only want your attention, love," he told her. Hermione beamed.

It was at this point that a short, balding man approached them, speaking in a nasal voice. "Can I help you two?"

"Yes, thanks. He'd like to try this on," Hermione told the salesman and handed him the blue shirt.

"Excellent choice. Right this way. I'll get you a change room," said the salesman.

"Thank you," Harry murmured, following the man to the back of the store.

For the second time that day Harry found himself standing in front of his mirror, arguing with his reflection. He almost wished that this mirror could talk back to him. At least he'd know what he was doing wrong.

He admitted he really liked the shirt. Hermione had also chosen a dark yellow tie to match, and he was quite impressed with her ability to create perfect outfits for the slightest of occasions.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked from the other side of his bedroom door. Like always, she was quick and to the point, very concise in every situation, and had already finished getting ready for their dinner reservation at Gusto's.

Harry opened his bedroom door and felt his mouth hanging slightly, his heart doing leaps.

Hermione had always been beautiful in his eyes, and he was a very firm believer that appearance did not matter whatsoever. Hermione had a beautiful soul, and that's what attracted Harry in the first place. However, tonight, he could make an exception.

A blue skirt hung to her knees, hugging her hips and then flaring outwards. The skirt held an intricate flowered pattern, beautiful and what he would describe as very 'feminine.' Her v-neck pewter shirt was snug, though not too tight, the sleeves cut off just past the shoulders. A silver necklace hung around her neck, dangling diamond earrings to match. No make up for her, though her lips were slightly glossed and Harry could smell the distinct scent of vanilla. Her hair was left down, though pulled back by two large camouflaged barrettes. She looked heavenly in Harry's eyes. He had said it before, and would say it again: she was an angel.

"Would you stop gawking at me and come here," Hermione giggled, pulling Harry into an embrace.

To say the least, Harry looked divine. She couldn't believe after nearly a year, (more so since she had liked him well before that time), he could still have this effect on her. The 'weak in the knees' effect. The one that sent her heart pounding and her love for him soaring.

She pulled back and looked up at him, immediately sensing something was wrong. She couldn't really explain where the feeling of doubt crept in, but it was there nonetheless and she said the only thing that logical Hermione could say.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, and before he could mask his doubts and fears, she pressed on, now knowing something was wrong.

"Tell me, Harry. You always do this," she hissed impatiently, keeping her voice low so as not to startle her parents.

Harry sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders, pulling her close again.

"It's nothing. I swear. Let's not dwell on matters that can be discussed later," he said quietly. His voice was soothing, and somehow wiped most of her frustration away. He had that effect on her as well.

"Harry, there's something wrong. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me," she said in her most stubborn voice.

"There's nothing wrong," Harry insisted but heaved a weary sigh in spite of himself. He held her at elbows length and met her steady, stubborn gaze, her chin lifted defiantly.

"Alright. I'll tell you," he caved, and Hermione's face softened with relief. Then Harry added, "After dinner. I promise, honey. Let's just enjoy a delicious dinner, I'll even take you dancing. Just...please let's not worry about it. There really is nothing to concern yourself about," Harry protested once Hermione's face turned into a scowl. A few moments passed, and Harry knew that Hermione was thinking it over.

"You'll take me dancing?" she finally asked, a hesitant grin teasing her lips.

He raised his right hand and placed his left hand on his heart. "I solemnly swear," he intoned.

She laughed then and nodded before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'm holding you to that, Potter," she told him. She turned to leave but abruptly turned back, her long curly hair flowing with her every movement.

"I almost forgot," she said, and this time there was the distinct glimmer of mischief in her eyes, "after dinner Mum and Dad are going to a late night movie," she finished.

Harry's mouth simply dropped. This was something he did not expect. Why in the world would the Grangers want to leave Harry and Hermione alone in the house?

"They felt that maybe they were crowding us, and wanted to give us time to ourselves, without them lurking around the corner. I know...weird. Dad must really like you," Hermione answered.

Harry was still speechless. He would actually be left alone with Hermione? For at least two hours? Was he hearing things? It seemed that his brain wasn't processing the information. He just stared blankly at Hermione, jaw hung low.

Hermione giggled and waved a hand in front of his face, she snapped her fingers repeatedly, clapped her hands, and finally Harry returned from his trance.

"The house to ourselves? " and he yawned dramatically, covering the teasing smile that crept up. "I don't know, Hermione. After our dinner and dancing, I think I might just want to go straight to sleep," he said.

Hermione gave him an appalled look, and then realized that he was teasing her.

She quirked a brow and poked a finger into his chest. "Be careful, Potter. Or you may just get that wish," she said and turned back to the doorway, and down the hall towards the stairs.

He refused to believe anything she had to say at that moment, knowing she was looking more forward to their time alone than he was. He followed her, keeping in mind that dinner would only take a couple of hours.

"Dinner was delicious," Hermione sighed two hours later as she leaned against Harry, his arm around her waist as he lead her up the steps to her house. Mr and Mrs Granger remained inside the car, waiting until the two teenagers were inside before pulling out of the driveway, and driving out of view.

Harry and Hermione kicked off their shoes and made their way to the family room.

"Now will you tell me?" Hermione asked, snuggling against Harry on the couch.

Harry sighed. He had secretly hoped Hermione would have forgotten about his promise. He should have known better. 'I do know better', he told himself and then searched for the proper words so as not to frighten or worry Hermione.

"I had another nightmare about my parents," he said simply. There. That sounded fair. After all, it wasn't that uncommon for him to have nightmares about his parents' death.

Hermione, however, looked alarmed.

"Do you mean...like the ones you had before? With Voldemort?" she asked.

Harry mentally kicked himself. Naturally she would remember the nightmares he had told her about, time after time. Hermione was hardly someone to forget such a thing.

He nodded slowly, not sure whether to tell her everything: all his worries, or rather, just his main concern.

But he loved her. And if it were she in his position, he would want her to tell him. She trusted him and he trusted her. That had been one of the gifts the Ring-Spirit had given to them. To trust each other. To be loyal to each other. To love each other. And he did not intend to take those three gifts for granted.

"Most of the time I was able to control my dreams, to the point where I could end the dream before it got too graphic," Harry began as Hermione listened with rapt attention. "This time I couldn't. It was like an invisible force chaining me. It was relentless," he said softly.

Hermione said nothing at this point, allowing the information to sink in. She knew it was difficult for Harry to confess such a painful dream. She knew that all he wanted to do was protect her, and she knew that he was trying to protect her from the dream's implications. If he was having nightmares about Voldemort, surely that could only mean one thing.

"Does your scar hurt? Did it hurt when you woke up?" she asked suddenly.

"No, that's the thing. Because it didn't hurt, I now have my doubts as to what the dream truly meant. If I don't have another nightmare, I doubt there will be anything to worry about. I've always had a keen intuition when it came to Voldemort," Harry told her.

Hermione placed a palm on his cheek, turning his face to hers so she could look straight into his emerald eyes. His gaze was faraway, and almost too painful to bear.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. His pain was also hers, after all. She knew she didn't experience it first-hand. But there was a link from her sould to his that allowed them to share the same pain and the same happiness.

Harry couldn't decide what she was apologizing for. Was it for the dream? The fact that he would never shake off the Dark Lord? Well, whatever the reason, he was glad he could confide in her. Destiny certainly couldn't have provided a better soulmate. His hand reached up to hold hers, and he brought it down to kiss her palm.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm sure the dream meant nothing," he said.

"Don't say that. Just because it may not mean that Voldemort is returning--which seems next to impossible--doesn't mean the nightmare doesn't mean any thing. They were your parents," she gently reminded him.

"I know," he replied defensively. "But I have the feeling that these dreams will always haunt me. Whether Voldemort is gone or not. It's like my subconscious refuses to let go," Harry said.

Hermione offered him a smile. "There will be times in your life, Harry, when you'll be glad your subconscious never forgot your parents' image," she said.

Harry smiled back and gave her a soft, gentle kiss on her cherry-flavored lips.

"I love you," he said, pulling back. He'd never get tired of saying it.

"Of course you do, silly," she said playfully and pulled him closer, kissing him back. He responded immediately, pressing a hand onto her back, also pulling her as close as possible. He could forget about the dream for now. He had more important things to do. Hermione pulled back and wiggled her eyebrows seductively at him.

"My bed? Or yours?"


To Be Continued...

Chapter 3: Back to School
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: The Crew returns to Hogwarts where a pleasant surprise awaits them. Hermione and Harry familiarize themselves with their Head Boy and Girl duties, and enjoy some time alone, while Hermione expresses some deep concerns.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: It's all down to Gary Skinner, who's not only an amazing Beta, but a wonderful Friend as well.

Author's Note: Well...here's another chapter to tide you over until...well...probably tomorrow. Because I've been posting pretty much every day. Anyway, thanks for the amazing support! Aw, guys...I don't know what I'd do without you. Probably shrivel up and die. Keep reading, and enjoy!

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry greeted as his snowy white owl perched herself on Harry's shoulder. He retrieved the burden from her clutches and she pecked his fingers affectionately.

"It's a letter from Sirius," Harry informed Hermione after reading the signature at the bottom of the parchment.

Hermione crossed her brows in confusion. "But we're leaving today. Why would he be writing?" she asked.

After another moment of scanning the letter with his eyes, Harry frowned as certain words jumped out at him.

"He says he'll see us soon," he told her.

Hermione straightened, more puzzled by this bit of news than the fact that he had actually written.

"How? Will he be seeing us off at the station?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, tucking the note into his jacket pocket, and he shrugged. "If he is, I know nothing about it," he said, brushing off the subject. He turned his face upwards, towards the sky and took a deep breath.

"I'll miss it here," he told his girlfriend. Hermione smiled warmly and took his hand, leading him back up to her house.

"You have everything you need?" Mrs Granger asked hurriedly from the kitchen. The 1st of September always filled the Granger home with an air of excitement.

"We think so. We're going to double check upstairs," Hermione told her parents, leading Harry up the staircase.

When they returned to the main floor, they discovered the Grangers outside loading the minivan with Harry's and Hermione's trunks. Hedwig and Crookshanks in their respective cages took the very back seats, Hermione and Harry took the very middle seats, while the Grangers took the front.

Looking out the window, Hermione gave a slow, wistful wave, and whispered "Good bye, home. See you in a year."

Harry smiled at this, and squeezed her hand gently.

"This is going to be a great year," he promised. She smiled back, and nodded in agreement.

"Well, I say. It's about time you two got here. We almost thought you had gotten lost," piped up the youngest male Weasley.

"Hello, Ron! Hello, Ginny!" Harry greeted, waving them over. The red-haired Weasleys hurried over, barreling Hermione and Harry over with hugs and greetings.

London's King's Cross was presently scattered with adults and children of all ages, some standing between platforms 9 and 10. Many of them were eager to push their way through the barrier that would lead them to the Hogwarts Express.

"Did you have a good vacation?" Ginny asked curiously.

Harry and Hermione nodded furiously, smirking like young teenagers in love. Ron rolled his eyes playfully and then his eyes widened.

"Did you hear the news yet?" Ron asked eagerly. Ginny jabbed Ron in the ribs, and he yelped. Hermione observed the two, as the youngest Weasley gave odd looks to her older brother. Ron frowned, obviously in pain.

"What news?" Harry interrupted.

"Nothing, Harry. Ron is being a git again. Aren't you, Ron?" Ginny said, her eyes narrowing in a dangerous way.

"Absolutely," he muttered, before turning to his mother.

"Hello, Harry dear. Hermione! You look lovely," Molly Weasley complimented. Hermione gave a modest smile and greeted the older woman back.

"But where are your parents? Did they not come to see you off?" Molly asked, peeking her head above the crowd.

"They have to work. It's fine really. They'll probably write to me the moment we get to the school," Hermione insisted. Harry reassured Molly with a nod, and she relaxed.

"Well then, best be off, children. Wouldn't want to be late now," Molly warned, and sent Ginny through the platforms first. Ron ran through, followed by Hermione and just before Harry was about to run through, Molly stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the barrier.

"How are things, Harry?" she asked with concern in her eyes. Harry knew that she wasn't trying to pry. She had been like the mother he had never known in the past six years. He understood that she was simply concerned for his well being.

"I'm fine. Wonderful actually. I don't think I've ever been happier," he replied, knowing it was the truth.

"How's living with Sirius? How's that going?" she asked.

"It's going great," Harry said while nodding. "He treats me like an adult. Like an equal and we have a great time together."

Molly smiled warmly at him, and pulled him into a last hug before he faced the barrier.

"Good luck this year, Harry. Don't let anyone get you down. You hear?" she said.

Harry nodded, desperately wanting to fulfill her demands. He wanted to believe that this year would be better than any other year. He could do it. He knew it was possible.

That is, if Snape wasn't teaching, and if Malfoy would fall off of the face of the earth.

"Go along now. Don't keep them waiting," Molly ordered, stepping back so Harry could speed through.

"Good bye, Mrs Weasley! Thanks!" he shouted, before passing through.

"Don't tell me Mum kept you," said Ron, as Harry made his way to the three that had been waiting for him. Their trunks were already on the Express, the train that now whistled shrilly.

"She wanted to say good bye. Now let's hurry. We'll miss the train," Harry reminded them.

"So how does it feel to be Head Boy?" Ron asked once they had found a compartment to share as the Express sped on towards Hogwarts.

Harry shrugged while poking through a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"I haven't really had time to think about it. I don't imagine it will be any different than how it usually is at school," he answered without looking up.

"Oh, yes it is. Don't you know? Head Boys and Girls and Prefects all get their own dormitories. Of course, you can't be separated from your own houses. Didn't you know that all houses have a separate area for all authority figures? It's kind of like getting your own bathroom," Ron explained.

Harry looked surprised, as he usually did. He seemed to be the last person to find out anything of importance. It was ironic enough, considering he was supposed to be the "famous" Harry Potter.

"Yes. We get our own dormitories. But we do share different rooms, Ron. So don't get any ideas," Hermione warned.

"Yes, one lousy wall separating the boys from the girls. Are you sure you won't need someone to keep you warm at night, on those cold, blustery--"

"Cut it out, Ron. You're not really all that funny, you know," Hermione said, though she was smiling and blushing at the same time.

Harry grinned and elbowed her softly.

"I do believe Ron's got a point, Hermione. Who's going to keep me warm at night?" he asked, and gave a heavy pout.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opted to start another conversation with Ginny, completely ignoring the two boys sitting next to them.

This only fueled their laughter, as the Hogwarts Express continued onwards towards its destination.

"I can't wait to eat," Ron declared once they arrived at Hogwarts as all the students piled together behind Harry and Hermione. Some of the students snickered at this and even Harry grinned, knowing of Ron's fetish for food, whatever shape, size or color. Taste also didn't seem to affect Ron's decision. He ate anything.

Harry opened the grand doors, and lead the students through the Entrance Hall. He took a deep breath, instant memories flooding his mind, heart and soul. This was his home away from home. At one point, it had been his only home, his only refuge.

The First years had yet to arrive for the Sorting, and Second years to Seventh took their seats at their proper house tables in the Great Hall.

The excitement of being back and the bustle of conversations floating around Harry distracted him from the front table which was lined with all of the professors, as well as the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Had he not been distracted, he would have seen Dumbledore trying to get his attention.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted into Harry's ear. Harry reeled back from the volume of her voice and rubbed his ear, frowning.

"All you had to do was tap me. Jeez, Hermione," he grumbled.

"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes," Hermione said and nodded towards the Headmaster. "Dumbledore wants to see us. He's been trying to get your attention, too," she told him.

"Oh," was all Harry could say, and turned himself away from Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, making his way to the High Table beside Hermione.

"Hello, Harry and Hermione. I hope you enjoyed your holidays," greeted Dumbledore. He wore the same warm smile, and the same twinkle gleamed in his eyes, which were framed by half-moon spectacles.

"We did, thank you, Professor. You wanted to see us?" asked Harry.

The door that stood behind the table opened suddenly, and Harry reeled back for the second time in two minutes.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?" he cried in astonishment.

"I hope that's not an "I-don't-want-you-here" question, Harry," said Sirius warmly, taking his seat beside the Headmaster.

"No! Of course not. But...why are you here?" he asked again. His excitement was contagious, because Hermione was grinning as well.

Suddenly Ron and Ginny made their way to the High Table, also sharing wide, knowing smiles.

"It's taken me a lot not to blurt it out. Ginny here has been jabbing me every five minutes," Ron pouted.

Ginny smiled proudly.

"Blurt what out? What's going on?" Harry asked again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave an impatient sigh.

"Harry, honestly. Isn't it obvious? The new Defense against the Dark Art's teacher?" she said.

Harry turned back to his godfather, his jaw hanging. "It's true? You're going to be the new teacher?" he asked.

"Of course it's true. Lord knows I gave you enough hints, too. And you made him Head Boy," Sirius said to Dumbledore, and laughed when he saw the look of disbelief cross Harry's face.

"You never gave me hints! What are you talking about?" Harry demanded, secretly thinking back to when many hints were in fact given.

"The letter, Harry? He said he'd see us soon. We're both idiots," Hermione said.

"Important idiots, I'd say," Sirius said. Both Hermione and Harry glared at him, and he laughed again.

"Way to start on the wrong foot Sirius. Don't get these two angry. I certainly wouldn't want to face their wrath," Ron said.

Sirius turned to Ron, smiling.

"That's Professor Black to you, Weasley," Sirius retorted, eliciting a laugh from those around him.

"Well then. Now that you know of Sirius's well kept secret, I suggest we all take our seats. Harry, Hermione, we'll talk after the feast," Dumbledore told them. They nodded, and the four Gryffindors went back to their table.

It was all Harry could do to keep from jumping for joy. Already, his Seventh year was shaping up to be a wonderful year indeed.

Harry and Hermione walked wearily back to their Gryffindor common room for the first time since they arrived at Hogwarts. Having spent what seemed like hours in Dumbledore's office (it had actually been an hour) they were exhausted. Too much travel, a full stomach, and the only thing keeping them awake was the desire to spend some time together alone. Naturally, the only thing they could think of doing was talk. They had spent another hour taking on their duties as Head Boy and Girl (this included making sure the Prefects knew their positions, their own duties and responsibilitie. And it also included checking on the students).

It was no surprise to them when they found the dormitories completely deserted. It was still too early for the students to go to sleep. All the trunks were accounted for, each student and Prefect having already chosen their beds. The Head Boy and Girl, however, got special treatment: a special perk to being the Head of the school. Their beds were still the same four-poster, but the bed seemed double the size of their regular ones. Harry could get used to this. He also had his own bathroom, just as Hermione had her own.

Hermione twisted the silver and gold band that circled the finger next to her pinky on her right hand, a look of deep concentration etched in her brows.

Harry stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her slim figure and enjoying the feel of her relaxing in his arms.

"What are you thinking about, love?" he asked.

Hermione's mind went blissfully blank as Harry's arms wrapped around her. But when he spoke her former worries returned to her.

"Have you...been having more of those nightmares?" she inquired softly.

They hadn't discussed Harry's nightmares since that first one nearly two weeks ago. Harry supposed that they both had come to a silent agreement not to bring it up and ruin their vacation.

He shook his head and hugged her closer.

"I haven't had a single one. That's a good thing, Hermione. There's no danger. It was just a fluke dream," he said.

"Nothing is fluke in the wizarding world, Harry," she said quietly. Deep down she wanted to believe him. More than anything she wanted to believe that no one had anything to worry about. Maybe he was right. But that still didn't diminish the majority of her fears.

Harry sensed this and prodded gently, asking what exactly she was worried about.

"Do you think we can pull this off? Us, being Head Boy and Girl. I mean, we're responsible for every student," she reminded him.

Harry turned her to face him.

"You doubt your abilities, Hermione? I never thought I'd see the day," he said.

"Don't tease," she pouted. "I have a right to worry."

"Then let's put this into perspective, shall we? Do you doubt my abilities?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes widened, shocked, thinking that she could never doubt such a thing.

"Exactly," Harry said, reading her thoughts. "We have the advantage here, Hermione. We have each other. Ron knows it, he said it: when we're together, no one wants to face our wrath. Likewise, we are probably two of the most approachable people in this school. People like and trust us. Well... at least they like you. I'm just in for the ride," Harry told her.

She punched him playfully in the arm.

"Don't be silly. They love you, and will always love you. You're Harry Potter. The hero. The boy who lived," she reminded him.

He shook his head in denial.

"I may be Harry Potter, 'the boy who lived.' But you're the hero, Hermione. Even Voldemort knew it. And I don't care if they love me. I only want you to love me," he told her.

Hermione gave him warm smile, the same warmth that she felt in her heart while she listened to his reassuring words.

"Thank you," she said and reached up to place a kiss on his lips.

He kept his arms wrapped about her and tilted her backwards, deepening the kiss.

She giggled into the kiss and pulled back, running a hand through his hair, the other hand clutched to his arm. And their eyes blazed as they sent the secret message of love to one another.

"We should go back to the common room," Hermione suggested. "Our friends are going to start to wonder what we're doing up here."

"Let them wonder. Heck, invite them up," he said and Hermione laughed.

"Isn't that what video cameras are for?" she teased back, and he nearly dropped her on the floor from the shock of what she had just said.

She laughed harder this time and loosened herself from his grasp.

"See you downstairs, Romeo," she called, already heading out of the room.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He liked the fact that Hermione could loosen up, and lose that composure that labeled her as 'the brain'. If only others could see what she was really made of.

They would probably never find out, and Harry had to remind himself that if that were the case, then all the better for him. He could have her all to himself.


To Be Continued...

Chapter 4: Prediction of Doom
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Harry's first day of classes goes from bad to worse, and it doesn't help that Ron won't even speak to him. So what exactly does Professor Trelawney have to say to Harry this term? Read and find out!
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: Thanks to Gary Skinner; an amazing Beta, Friend, and Writer. And to all the reviewers (good or bad) for remembering that this story is slightly AU, because it was written before OotP was released, as I clearly stated in an earlier AN. Well, now that I've got that out of my system, I hope the majority of you can still enjoy this story even if I do fall for cliches. (God forbid).

Morning came sooner than Harry expected, and with it a feeling of excitement and anticipation. Today would be the first day of classes, and normally the first day of school would fill Harry with a feeling of dread and reluctance. But this year was different, he knew. Nothing bad was going to happen, and he was determined to prove to everyone that he was a good choice for Head Boy.

"We've got Potions with the Hufflepuffs," Ron said as Harry took his seat in the Great Hall for breakfast.

He reached over for a piece of toast and started munching.

"That's good," he said after swallowing. "No Slytherins for us."

Ron shook his head. "We have Divinition with the Slytherins. I'm having a hard time figuring out what's worse," Ron said and shoved some scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Harry's stomach gave a sudden lurch of dread. Professor Trelawney always had a habit of predicting Harry's death, or predicting something just as horrible in Harry's life. He would never hear the end of it if the Slytherins caught wind of her crazy predictions.

"It'll be all right, Harry. What's the worst they can do?" said Hermione, who had just taken her seat across the table from them both.

"Now that's just asking for trouble," Ron pointed out.

"Harry is Head Boy. If anything, they'll show more respect towards him. If not, just take points from their house," Hermione said in matter-of-fact tone.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, more with amusement than horror.

"What?" Hermione replied innocently as she spread some jam over her piece of toast. "No one insults my Harry and gets away with it."

Harry laughed while Ron gagged.

A tap on Harry's shoulder made him turn his head.

"Hey, Sirius," he greeted brightly.

Sirius was obviously in a good mood, as he beamed down on the three students.

"How's your timetable? Not too rough I hope," the older wizard said.

"Actually, it's a little heavier than my former years. But it's nothing I can't handle. I see we don't have your class until tomorrow," Harry said, glancing back down at his timetable.

"I have the Slytherins today with the Hufflepuffs. That's going to be a disaster," Sirius noted.

"Don't be so sure. You're supposed to look on the positive side," Hermione reminded him.

Sirius smiled. "You're right. But at the same time I remember clearly what it was like here in my day. The Slytherins were ruthless towards the Hufflepuffs."

Ron nodded. "That sounds about right," he said.

"Well I should get going. I have class first thing. I'll see you at lunch," Sirius said and he sauntered off.

"We should be going as well. I have Arithmancy in a couple of hours and I'd like to start reading right away," Hermione said and polished off her toast.

"What? You mean you haven't read the whole book already?" Ron asked in disbelief.

Hermione sent him a piercing glare.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you are not funny?" Hermione shot back. She stood up from her chair and glared at Ron before she exited the Great Hall.

"You can be so mean to her," Harry said in an off-handed tone.

"And you always seem to defend her. No surprise there. And besides, it's not even a big deal. I was only teasing her," Ron said.

"Sometimes it is a big deal. Just...watch what you say, alright? Sometimes you have a tendacy to be a little insensitive and I just don't want you to be the reason Hermione is upset," Harry told him, and dismissed the subject as he stood up and gathered his book bag.

But Ron's stubbornness wasn't letting him dismiss the subject so easily as he followed Harry out of the Great Hall.

"Watch what I say? So when am I allowed to talk to her, Harry? Should I make up a timetable to go with that, too?" Ron asked.

Harry knew he had gone too far, and immediately wished he hadn't said anything in the first place. Ron's childish temper was not something he wanted to face this year, let alone the first day of school.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry sighed impatiently. "I just don't want you to say something that could hurt her. You know how sensitive she can be when it comes to school. It's important to her, and all you do is laugh at her when it comes to school. You're supposed to be her best friend, not her best tormentor," Harry said, feeling like he was explaining this to a five-year-old.

"I'm not her best friend anymore, don't you see?" Ron nearly shouted. The halls were empty, since most kids were still in the Great Hall, so Harry didn't feel the need to tell Ron to keep it down.

But he did stop in his tracks.

"Could you be even more of a prat, Ron? Of course you're her best friend. We both are," Harry said, and knew instantly what was coming.

"No, Harry," Ron said more quietly, and somehow Harry preferred the shouting to this calm demeanor Ron had suddenly developed. "You're her best friend. Her protector. Her boyfriend. Her future. I'm on the outside, looking in, waiting to see if she'll ever need me. And she never does," he said.

"That's not true," Harry choked, not wanting to believe that it was possible that they could have ignored Ron over the past few months.

"It is. Why come to me when she can go to you? When she has a nightmare, when she has a problem with a teacher, when she feels lonely, when she just wants a hug...who does she go to?" Ron asked.

Harry stood there, pondering not the questions Ron had asked, but the tone in which he asked them.

Ron, on the other hand, didn't wait for an answer. He took off to their common room, walking much faster than they had before.

Harry sped to catch up with him, but realized with a sharp pain that Ron would not be talking to him for a while. Harry knew this, because he had been through it before. In which case, he also knew to give Ron his space so he could cool down. Eventually the red head would calm down and they could have a mature discussion about the problem at hand.

They arrived at the portrait hole and Ron gave the password in an agitated tone.

Harry trudged reluctantly behind him, wanting more than anything right now for everything to be right. Why did he have to get Ron angry with him on their first day?

"What's up with Ron?" Hermione asked. They both watched as Ron made his way to his side of the dormitories, completely ignoring his best friends as he walked up the stairs and out of view.

Harry made his way to Hermione, who sat at one of the tables, her Arithmancy book opened to the first chapter.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, sitting down beside her.

Hermione took this as a hint, and closed her book. She gave her full attention to Harry, a determined look on her face.

"Try me," she said.

Harry took a deep breath and explained exactly what had happened just moments ago between him and Ron.

"Oh, Harry. He'll come around," Hermione finally said.

"Don't you see! He feels we've left him out of something. But I never meant to. He's my best friend," he insisted, feeling completely helpless.

"Of course he is. He's mine, too. Which is why we know he'll come around. He will if he truly values our friendship," she said.

"That's not it, Hermione. He feels that we don't value his. Somewhere along the line we neglected him, and this is the result," he said.

Hermione sighed. She loved Ron, but sometimes he could be so difficult. She supposed it had a lot to do with having six other siblings, five of whom were older. But she had hoped that in time Ron would grow up a little. They were no longer the dramatic 14-year-old's they once were. Hermione laughed at this. She had remembered clearly what it was like to be 14. She shuddered to think about it.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, still bitter about Ron.

"Nothing really. Listen. I read that red heads tend to be more passionate than others. I don't know if the hair color has anything to do with it, but in Ron's case I'd say it fits. He's a very emotional, stubborn, passionate and angry person at times. The most we can do is ride it out," she said.

"He's angry with me, not you. You're safe," he told her.

"If he's angry with you, he's angry with me. Don't forget..." Hermione said softly and knelt down to his level. She rested her chin on his lap and looked up at him, her brown eyes shiny and earnest. "We're one. No matter what the situation, we're in it together. You don't have to face Ron's wrath alone," she promised.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Hermione. But this is Ron we're talking about. Not Voldemort," he reminded her.

This time Hermione smiled and placed a kiss on his hand.

"All the same. I've read that those red heads can be a handful," she joked and stood up.

Instantly Ron came down the stairs, head lifted haughtily as he made his way to the portrait hole.

Once he disappeared through the hole, Harry stood up as well.

"Class will be starting soon. I should get going," he said mournfully.

Hermione wrapped him in an embrace, and she kissed him softly on the lips.

"Have a good class, Harry. Don't let Ron get you down," she advised.

He nodded, kissed her back and left through the same hole.

After three years of previously taking the class, Harry had no problems finding the North Tower, contrary to his third year, his first year taking Divination. He noted with dread that Professor Trelawney was still currently the teacher for that class, and the fact that Ron was not talking to him (again) did nothing but sour his mood greatly. But he was Head Boy, and he forced a smile to his face as he passed younger students in the halls, making his way up to the dreaded classroom.

The room was the same as ever. Stifling warm, and dimly lit with lamps covered with red scarves, giving off a crimson light. He was early, he noticed, and also noted that Ron had yet to arrive. He took his seat at the usual round table he had been sitting at since his first day taking Divination. And he waited patiently.

Soon enough, the remaining students popped up through the trap door, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley amongst them.

Harry didn't bother to greet Ron, but was secretly relieved when Ron pulled up a chair beside him. Ron didn't say anything, or give any indication that he was no longer angry, but him sitting next to Harry was the next best thing. Surprisingly enough, Malfoy passed him without a word, not even a sarcastic sneer, and pulled up a chair to the table next to him.

This unnerved Harry. The last thing he wanted was to be seated next to his arch-enemy. But it seemed that that was the way it would be for the remaining year. Malfoy was without his two goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Harry figured that they too, did not exhibit the 'Inner Eye'.

"Good morning, my students. My first class," came Professor Trelawney's misty voice. She glided out of the darkness, her hands spread out in a majestic manner.

"We have very little time this morning, and most of it will be shortened due to my long over-view for the rest of the year. First, I am happy to note that most of you from my previous classes have returned. An excellent decision, one I knew you would come to."

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. Already he was regretting taking the class.

"Second, I will tell you all now that by the end of next term, only two of you will walk away with a deeper sense of the Inner Eye."

She paused at this, and nodded towards Lavender Brown, who only stared at her.

"You were going to ask something, child?" she asked.

Both Lavender and her best friend Parvati Patil looked deeply impressed.

"Actually, I was wondering... if only two of us will have the Inner Eye, then why are the rest of us wasting our time?" she asked nervously. She felt nothing but deep respect for her teacher. Harry knew this because she took every single one of Trelawney's predictions to heart.

"Of course, dear. This class is by far the complete opposite of 'wasting your time'. This is something I never mention in your younger years, I always wait until you are in your 7th year. Every single one of you possesses the power of the Inner Eye. Most--I regret to inform you--are clouded. We are all of the magical world, and in every sense of the word. Whether you have the power to harness the Inner Eye is not up to you, but up to your magical being. We all have our strengths," her eyes flickered to Harry and then back to the rest of the class, then added "some, more than others. This will be the year you will discover them. Not only in this class, but in all subjects. You may not See it, but your strengths will play out your future," she smiled briefly. "And I foresee a wonderful future for you all."

Harry almost did roll his eyes again. He was sure that this was a speech she gave to all her 7th years.

"Now, onto more pressing matters. To discover whether Divination is your strength, we will have to work very hard. There will be an assignment at the end of the year which will determine the outlook of your future. To start this we must master the art of palm reading, tea leaf reading, and of course the most difficult, the crystal ball. This will not be like your previous years, because your previous experiences in those classes are to help you with this one. We'll start today with Crystal-gazing," the teacher announced, and floated around the room while handing out the crystal balls.

Harry reluctantly took his globe and sat it in front of him. Ron did the same, and continued to ignore Harry.

Harry wondered if Ron would ever start talking to him, and tried to foresee that in the crystal globe.

Nothing useful appeared. However, his globe started to take on a blackish colour and the only thing visible in the darkness were silver dots that seemed to appear, slowly, one-by-one, out of nowhere.

"Interesting," Trelawney said mistily.

Harry's head shot up to meet his professor's concerned gaze. Harry felt the painful dread return, and wished he could instantly Disapparate.

"Silver points on a field of black," Trelawney said softly.

She said it so quietly that it would be impossible for the furthest person in the room to hear her. But the room was so entirely focused on Harry and the Professor, that every last person caught her words.

"You can see that? I thought only the one crystal-gazing could see," Harry said, the coldness of dread seeping in. He knew that this could not be good. Suddenly, the vision in the globe disappeared, and Harry sighed with relief.

"I have the Inner Eye. Not to give myself a swelled head, but I see all. Including that which you see. Very good, Mr Potter. You've made your first successful prediction," Trelawney said.

"What makes you think it's successful? That could very well be stars coming out at night. Some prediction. The sun sets every night," Ron interjected. Harry was surprised. Ron had just defended and insulted him at the same time.

Ron seemed to have suddenly realized what he had just done, as well. He tightened his lips and looked furiously into his own globe again.

Trelawney apparently chose to ignore his argument, and floated over to Parvati and Lavender's table.

Though the vision had disappeared, Harry's fear remained. Deep down Harry knew this could not be an ordinary night sky. Those specks of silver could not be simple stars. And yet he found it hard to believe that he could have had his first vision.

He brushed this all away, determined instead to focus on getting Ron to talk to him again.


To Be Continued...

Chapter 5: Ravenclaw Vs. Gryffindor
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Hogwarts just isn't Hogwarts without a game of Quidditch! But what about Harry and Ron? Can they put aside their differences for the game?
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: To Gary Skinner, for supporting me in all my endeavors. He's a fantastic beta. And I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of those who have read/reviewed this story. It means so much to me!

Enjoy!

With Ron angry at him, Harry found it very difficult to concentrate on school work. He found it so ironic that after insisting this year would be the best, he had failed miserably at making it so. Hermione was the only one right now keeping him focused, reminding him to always look for the bright side. Harry knew that Ron couldn't stay angry forever. After all, they had Quidditch practices and games to consider. Could he really stay angry that long?

Harry was actually looking forward to the Quidditch season, which was set to begin in two weeks time. That left him two weeks to get his team into shape, which left him months still before the game which would determine which house got the Quidditch Cup. This was Harry's last year at Hogwarts. He had never felt so determined in all his life to win something. He suddenly knew what it had felt like for Oliver Wood, a graduate who was once Gryffindor's captain. Ruthless, determined, but fair. And one Hell of a Captain. After winning the Quidditch cup his final year, they had never lost it since. Minus, of course, Harry's fourth year, when Quidditch had been cancelled to host the Triwizard Tournement.

"Harry, stay focused," Hermione said impatiently.

Harry snapped back to reality, visions of him on his Firebolt instantly disappearing.

"Sorry. My mind's not exactly on Charms today," he apologized.

Hermione sighed heavily, and shut both of their textbooks.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

Harry smiled and said, "I was thinking about Quidditch."

Hermione moved closer to him, also smiling.

"You were always happiest on that silly broom," she said. Harry then looked at her, and frowned.

"I'm always happiest when I'm with you. The Firebolt is just a perk. You know how I love to fly."

"I also know just how dangerous that broom is. Not to mention the sport," she replied, her brows creasing even more deeply.

He put an arm around her to pull her closer, and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"That never stopped you from coming to the games," he teased.

Hermione gaped at this, then reluctantly admitted, "It's an exciting game. That doesn't mean I enjoy watching you get bludgered up there."

"And when I catch the Snitch? How do you feel then, Miss Granger?" he asked. He loved teasing her about this. Quidditch was something he favored, and he eagerly rose to the occasion when somebody had something bad to say about the sport.

Hermione knew that he had trapped her. She was trapped, because he had a point. Her heart soared when he caught the Snitch (which was more often than not). Not only did her heart soar, but it also seemed to burst with a certain pride, a joy that she couldn't explain. Even when he didn't catch the Snitch, it didn't matter to her. Because he was alive and well coming out of most games. And even when he lost, he still had an aura of excitement, an excitement that only came with the sensation of flying. She, on the other hand, detested flying. She only did it when it was necessary, and to achieve the compulsory credits which were required to graduate from Hogwarts.

"Well, since we're on the topic, and since you'd rather talk about Quidditch than our Charms assignment, when exactly were you planning on holding the first practice?" Hermione asked.

"I've already booked the Pitch for Friday evening," Harry told her.

"And Ron?" Hermione asked delicately.

"And Ginny will tell Ron about the practice," Harry said stubbornly.

Hermione sighed, desperately holding in her frustration. Why couldn't they work out their differences? They were best friends. Best friends did not stay angry at each other for more than two minutes. At least, that was the way it was supposed to be. But Ron was Ron. And Harry was Harry. Both stubborn and determined to wait for the other one to come around.

"Shouldn't...maybe you tell him? It's been over a week now. You're supposed to be adults," Hermione finally said.

Harry had heard this argument before. So naturally, he knew what was to come next.

"You're Head Boy, and as Head Boy you're supposed to set examples for the younger students. If they see the hostility between you and Ron, not to mention anyone else, they'll get the idea--"

"I know, Hermione." Harry sighed. He didn't want to get into it. "I'm just as upset as you are about it. I think he just needs more time to cool down," he said.

"Well... did you ever consider that maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move? He's a very stubborn person, Harry. Maybe if you approach him first, he'll take that into light and know that stubbornness isn't everything," Hermione suggested.

"To him, stubbornness is everything. He's the second youngest of seven, Hermione. What else has he got left?" Harry asked.

"He's got you. If you'll step past this childish behavior, act like the 17-year-olds that you both are, and face up to your friendship, then these six years of memories will not have been for nothing." Hermione paused, then added more softly, "He's your family, Harry. Don't lose all of that over petty stubbornness."

Harry turned his body on the couch to fully face the woman he was destined to be with for all eternity, and again silently thanked Destiny. She knew what she was doing.

"Why do you put up with me?" he then asked.

She gave him a sweet smile, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Your guess is as good as mine," she joked lightly and stood up.

Just then Ginny walked in with Dean, Seamus and Neville, all of them chattering and bubbling with excitement.

As Hermione walked over to the set of stairs, she looked over her shoulder and said, "I think I'll hop into a shower. Do try and work on that assignment," she suggested.

Harry twisted his body around to face her at the stairs, while the other four Gryffindors took the remaining seats by the fire.

"I'd rather take a shower," he said, rather slyly.

"Well then, go take a shower," Hermione suggested, as though this was the obvious thing to do. Harry just stared at her, while Dean, Seamus, and Neville stifled laughs (the latter of whom with a face as red as a tomato). Ginny's face contorted to a look of shock.

Hermione seemed to have finally grasped Harry's implications, and she sent him a scathing glare. She could hardly speak, half laughing, half exasperated. She pointed a finger at him, still glaring. "Harry James Potter! If you weren't Head Boy...I'd...I'd...."

Harry laughed then, which gave the others full permission to laugh at Hermione's stuttering.

"I love you too, sweetums," Harry cooed.

Hermione fumed, turned at once, and practically flew up the stairs.

"You're so cruel," Ginny finally said, once Hermione was gone.

Harry turned back to his fellow Gryffindors, still smirking.

"What's got you guys so excited?" he asked them.

Dean calmed down enough to finally answer. "What else? Quidditch."

Harry smiled. "Hermione and I were just talking about that. Practice is this Friday," he informed them. They all nodded, and continued talking about the sport that had everyone's attention.

Harry was the first to arrive at the Pitch that same week on Friday. He held out his Firebolt at arms length, surveyed it, then mounted it. Next to Hermione, this was when he was happiest. This thought crossed his mind as his feet lifted off of the ground swiftly, and soon he was 20 feet above the ground....30...40...50...He swooped through the air, free as a bird. The breeze teased his already wild hair, the warm whoosh of the wind tickling his ears. He closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't on the broom at all. Instead he was soaring through the air, like Hedwig. Broomless and free...

"Who d'you think you are? Superman?" called Dean.

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he realized that his team had arrived. He reluctantly descended, only wanting to stay up in the air for the rest of his life. But then he realized that this was a practice. Plenty of time for flying. Right now, he needed to be Captain.

"Well then," Harry observed as he landed swiftly back on the ground. Taking a mental count, he surveyed his team.

Ginny Weasley:Chaser-6th year
Ron Weasley:Keeper-7th year
Dean Thomas:Chaser-7th year
Seamus Finnigan:Beater-7th year
Kevin Willis:Beater-5th year
Leah York:Chaser-5th year.

He looked at the team and smiled. "It's good to be back, isn't it?" he asked.

They all nodded, not nearly as excited as Harry was, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

"Do you think we'll win this year?" Dean asked.

"Right now, what I think doesn't matter. I know what I know, and what I feel." Harry paused, aware now that he had everyone's rapt attention. He continued. "I have such strong faith in our team. We have two weeks to shape up. Two weeks to get to know each other again, as a team. Well, no use sitting down here. Let's go!" Harry announced.

Excitedly, they all mounted their brooms, and soon after, Harry released the Quaffle, then the Bludgers, then the Golden Snitch. He watched as his team passed the Quaffle around to each other, then watched as Dean caught the ball, and made a getaway, aiming to shoot a goal. Harry watched with anticipation as Dean neared, zooming at high speed towards Ron. Dean released the ball with a powerful blow, and Harry cheered as Ron swung upwards, and caught the ball in such a manner that left everyone cheering madly.

Ron did a grand, dramatic leap, evidently proud.

"You lazy git! You forgot to catch the Snitch!" shouted Seamus, who was now swooping down to meet Harry at ground level.

Harry, grinning like mad, mounted his broom. "I didn't forget. This is part of being Captain. I need to observe my team, so I can assess what needs to be changed, fixed, and what doesn't. Now, excuse me," laughed Harry, and he soared up into the air, searching for the little winged nugget. He felt a sudden flutter around his left ear, and almost as instantly--the Golden Snitch was gone. But this time Harry didn't lose sight of it. He swooped down, towards the Snitch, and in just four seconds time, the wings were beating furiously within his grasp.

His team cheered once more, as Harry lowered himself to the ground, and the others ran towards him.

"Why do you even bother, Harry? It's us who needs the practice. You've been catching that snitch for six years now," piped up Kevin.

Harry gave a sheepish smile, and shrugged. "Makes good practice. I'm a little out of shape," he admitted.

Ginny laughed. "Harry, if you're out of shape, then we can kiss that Cup good-bye," she told him. The team laughed, silently agreeing that Harry was by far the best player on the team.

"Shall we have another go?" Harry asked.

The team agreed enthusiastically, as half mounted their brooms. The other half seemed preoccupied, however, and Harry finally noticed why.

"We've got company, Boss," Seamus pointed, straight across the field.

It was clear, even in the night, who the 'company' was.

"Slytherins," snarled Ron, who stood beside Harry.

"This Pitch is ours for the next hour. You know that just as well as we do. There's a notice in Madam Hooch's office!" yelled Dean.

"Dean, enough." Harry stepped in front of his team, just as Draco Malfoy came to a stop a few feet in front of him, his own team standing directly behind him, looking massive and menacing. Harry, being tall and thin, like the rest of his team, was nothing in comparison to the Slytherins, who looked to be just one large mass. Nevertheless, Harry, though not the least bit intimidating, seemed to possess a quality of control and authority that none of the Slytherins could ever possess themselves.

"Your practice is over," barked Goyle, Slytherin's Beater.

"Harry, let's just go," Ginny suggested lightly, placing an arm on Harry's shoulder. Malfoy's icy gray eyes flickered to each of Harry's team members, as if sizing them up.

"No, we'll go," Malfoy finally said, not taking his eyes off of Harry.

His team suddenly flew into an uproar, obviously not liking his hasty decision.

"We'll go," Malfoy repeated, not quietly, not loudly, but with a sense of unmistakable authority. The Slytherins instantly quieted, not needing to be reminded as to who the Captain was.

Ginny's grip on Harry's arm loosened, but she still remained by his side. The others stayed silent, watching as the Slytherins made their way back to the castle.

"What was that about?" asked Leah quietly.

Harry waited until he could no longer see the Slytherins in the distance, and turned back to his team.

"My guess is that they wanted to get a look at our team. They do it every year as a desperate attempt to intimidate us," Harry finally answered.

"They're huge," Kevin said worriedly.

"They've always been like that," Ginny consoled. "And Harry's right. Don't let them get to you. They might have size, but we've got talent. We'll see who's the better team."

"And until then," Harry began, "we should finish our practice. I'm holding a team meeting on Sunday, common room. No practice intended. This is talking purely strategy and other topics worth mentioning."

Taking this as a sure sign that practice was to continue, they all mounted their brooms and resumed to their practice, with more fervor and excitement than before.

After another half an hour of their first Quidditch practice, Harry decided it was getting too dark to continue on.

"Excellent practice. Let's head back," Harry suggested, concluding an hour's worth of practice.

His fellow teammates walked in two's and three's, heading back to the castle. Harry seized the only opportunity he had, stemming down his nervousness. It's now or never.

"Ron," he called after the red head.

Ron looked over his shoulder to Harry, then looked back at Ginny, who stared furiously at her brother. For a couple of minutes they seemed to be sharing a silent argument. In the end, Ginny won, because Ron turned towards Harry and made his way up to him.

He did not look pleased. But he didn't look upset either. This gave Harry all the push he needed, while Hermione's voice echoed in the back of his mind. Ron was family.

"I think we need to talk," Harry began, nodding towards Ginny. Ginny smiled, waved and followed her teammates.

To Harry's utter amazement, Ron nodded. "I think so, too."

Suddenly, the words that Harry had rehearsed in his mind seemed to be leaking. He didn't know what to say. He had expected Ron to frown, stomp his foot in anger, maybe even flee. But Ron was showing maturity in his instant agreement. This meant that Ron had been thinking about their argument too. Had he been dwelling on it just as Harry had, the past week and a half?

"About what I said..." Harry finally said.

Ron put a hand up to stop him.

"I don't want to hear it," he told him firmly. But he was smiling.

"But--it needs to be addressed--" objected Harry.

"I said some things too, Harry. We're both sorry. Let's just forget about it," said Ron.

Harry finally smiled, relieved and happy. Together they walked back to the Hogwarts Castle, chatting nonstop about the previous week that they had missed experiencing together.

The next two weeks flowed by so quickly, Harry had very little time to reflect on Time's frightening speed. Autumn was upon them once more, the most breathtaking season of the year. The Forbidden Forest resembled a majestic painting, bright hues of orange, crimson, and gold seemed to glow from the forest. A seasonal temperature reminded the students to wear their sweaters and mittens for the first Quidditch game of the season. As of now, each side of the pitch was crowded with every student and professor in the school.

Ravenclaw would play against Gryffindor. This was not good for Harry's team, considering how good the Ravenclaws had become in the past year. Not good enough to gain the Quidditch Cup, but definitely a rival to shake a fist at. So it was no surprise to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, when Harry paced nervously up and down their bench, as they all sat in the change room, all fitted into their uniforms.

"Words of encouragement, anyone?" Harry asked lightly.

His team caught the joke, and laughed with him. Yes, Harry was nervous. But he had not lost hope.

"I think now is the only time, if any, to sound overly confident. Ravenclaw has nothing on us," boasted Dean.

Harry nodded, grateful for his enthusiasm and faith.

"I'm not good at this. Pep talks have always been Oliver Wood's field. I'm just Harry, trying to do the best possible thing for his team. If we lose, that does not mean the end for us. If we win, it means only the beginning. My faith has never wavered when it came to my team. To you." He paused, knowing he had them hanging on his every word. Then, "We are as tight as we can possibly be, especially with three practices a week. You guys have exceeded my expectations, always. That does not mean I'll be disappointed if we lose, because in my eyes, we will always be winners."

Ginny and Leah emitted tiny squeaks of encouragement, visibly touched by Harry's warm speech.

"Girls," muttered Kevin teasingly.

They both glared at him.

"That's good enough for us, Harry," Ron announced, standing up to join him at his side.

There was a silence that filled the room just then, as all of them contemplated Harry's words.

"Shall we go?" Ginny asked, still glowing from the comfort Harry's speech brought to them.

Harry laughed softly and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I couldn't have put it better myself. Let's go," he announced and they all stood to follow him outside.

The air was crisp and refreshing. Harry looked all around him, standing just underneath the stands beside Ginny. Behind them stood Ron and Seamus. Behind them stood Leah, Dean and Kevin. Each one clad in their scarlet robes, broomsticks in hand.

On the outside, Harry looked like the confident leader they all knew him to be. But on the inside, he was a jumble of nerves. Not necessarily because he feared this game would be lost to him, or because Ravenclaw seemed ten times better this year than they did last, or because Ravenclaw also seemed ten times more confident than last year. But mainly because he didn't want to disappoint anyone. This, above everything else revealed, terrified him more than anything. Throughout his Hogwarts years, he had disappointed many, only wanting to prove himself. Was he a good wizard? A good Seeker? A good Captain? A good friend? His team had never failed to reassure him of these things, but he still worried.

If they lost this game, he knew it was not the end, that they still had a shot at the Cup. But the light of hope would dim in his team's eyes, shadowed by disappointment and faltering confidence, and he couldn't bear that.

The crowd's increasing enthusiasm reached Harry's ears, and thoughts of worries fled instantly. He was here for the game. A game he had spent six years playing, improving year after year, game after game. Nothing else mattered anymore, because he felt inside himself his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was the feeling he loved. This was Quidditch.

Dennis Creevey began his commentary, which sent the crowd into a cheer.

"Welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch match of the season! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw!" he announced, and being a Gryffindor himself, he emphasized on Gryffindor. "Gryffindor is currently in possession of the Quidditch cup! Here come the teams now!"

Harry and his team mounted the brooms instantly, and from the opposite side of the Pitch, Ravenclaw's team flew up into the air, circling the pitch, clad in their own Royal Blue robes.

Harry lead his team to do the same, and soon the air was nothing but a blur of blue and red.

"For Gryffindor: Weasley, Weasley, Thomas, York, Willis, Finnigan, and Potter!. Potter is Seeker and Captain for his seventh and final year at Hogwarts! This year will be his last chance to win the Quidditch Cup! For Ravenclaw: Boot, Brocklehurst, Patil, Ross, Sibley, Hallman, and Frederiks!" Dennis continued to announce.

The crowds on both sides gave ear-splitting shouts and screams, each eager to cheer on their own team, or their preferred team.

Minutes later, teams in position, Madam Hooch on the ground below them waiting to release the Balls, the crowd silenced with Dennis.

She tossed the Quaffle into the air, released the Bludgers and finally the Golden Snitch, which Harry lost sight of almost immediately. His heart pounded with excitement and nervousness as Dennis continued his commentary.

"Gryffindor starts with a swift catch, as Ginny Weasley shoots across the field! Weasley passes to Thomas, but wait! Ross intercepts! Ravenclaw now in possession, Ross scores! Not even five minutes into the game! Ravenclaw now takes the lead with ten to nothing!"

The disappointment didn't linger on Harry. He had more important things to focus on, but he found it difficult when his team was losing by a large margin. After 45 minutes of fair play, Ravenclaw was in the lead by 120 points. Gryffindor had 50. Another hour passed, only to reveal that Ravenclaw was now at 200 points, and Gryffindor hung at a depressing 60.

Harry called a timeout. This was something he should have done ages ago.

"Potter's called a time out! Ravenclaw remains in the lead with 200 Points! With Gryffindor only at 60. If they catch the snitch now, they can still win the game!" Dennis announced.

Harry waved his team over, and they all crowded together.

"I don't know what's going on! I can't seem to block their goals," Ron whispered shrilly. He was evidently embarrassed.

Harry waved a hand to stop him.

"It's just a game, remember that. But if we're going to win, I need to find that Snitch. Ron, you have to at all costs, block those goals. I know you can do it. If I know you at all, then you can do this," Harry insisted. The others agreed, patting Ron while Ginny and Leah hugged him.

"Remember, distraction is the key, now more than ever. They cannot get another goal. So, that is why it is so important that you put all your skill as Keeper to use, Ron. I have faith in you," Harry said.

Ron managed a smile. "It's you we need to rely on," he told him.

"No, Ron. Don't you get it?" snapped Ginny impatiently, but she was smiling, "It's you. This is your moment."

"Yeah, so no pressure Ron," said Kevin. The others laughed.

The game resumed, and Dennis continued with his commentary.

"Ravenclaw in Position! Zooming in on another goal is Padma Patil! There it goes and it's not good! Ron Weasley saves the goal!" Dennis shouted, clearly as excited as the rest of them. The Gryffindor students in the stands roared with excitement, hope at last being restored.

"Potter is moving...does he see it!? Yes! It's the Snitch!" shouted Dennis.

Harry had seen the Snitch moments before, but had kept his position, instead opting to keep an eye on the winged nugget from where he was. It was a difficult task, considering how fast the Snitch was, and only years of practice had allowed him to accomplish such a trick. He wanted to make sure that he was within the Snitch's area, while the Ravenclaw Seeker, Frederiks, was not. An opportunity presented itself, and Harry leaned on his Firebolt, urging it forward, and he streaked across the pitch.

Ron saved two more goals before Harry finally grasped the Golden Snitch, and the cheers that followed would leave him deaf for days to come.

Relief and utter joy surged over Harry as he descended, and his team ran towards him and Ron, showering them with high fives, hugs, and soon the other Gryffindors in the stands were on the pitch, running towards them.

Dennis made his final commentary, "POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH. LEAVING GRYFFINDOR WITH 210 POINTS, RAVENCLAW WITH 200!"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

More cheers erupted from the pitch and the stands. The game was over, though the thundering excitement had just begun.

Hermione made her way through the crowd, and stopped in front of Ron and Harry, beaming.

"You were amazing, Ron," Hermione said, through happy tears. This was her weak moment, when Harry saw just how much she loved Quidditch. Who couldn't?

Hermione wrapped Ron into a fierce hug, and they both laughed with giddiness.

"Hey, save some of that lovin' for me," Harry interrupted, and Hermione eagerly slipped from Ron to Harry, sliding her arms around his neck, his hands lingering at her waist. She looked up at him, her brown eyes shiny from tears.

"Congratulations, Mr Potter," she said.

"And what have you got for the winning team's Captain, Miss Granger?" he asked coyly.

Hermione gave a wide, beautiful smile. Then she kissed him, quite passionately, rocking him backward from the force.

The Gryffindors laughed at Hermione's enthusiasm as she pulled away, leaving Harry breathless and quite speechless, his glasses askew.

"Is that any way for a Head Girl to behave?" asked Sirius Black, who had made his way to the team as well.

Hermione giggled, red in the face from having acted so boldly in front of so many fellow classmates.

Sirius had a wide happy smile on his face. "You guys were incredible. All of you," he encouraged.

"We have Harry to thank. He's been our Captain and Coach for the past few years," replied Seamus.

"No," objected Harry. "We have Ron to thank. It was his idea."

A slow silence followed this statement as the other puzzled over what Harry had just said.

"Idea?" pressed Ginny with a frown on her pretty face.

"Well, do you honestly believe that Ron is that terrible of a Keeper? We knew this game didn't count for much, so we thought we'd have a little fun," Harry explained.

"WHAT!" Ginny shrieked.

"I faked most, if not all of those goals. I figured, even if we did lose, it wouldn't matter. We wouldn't be out of running. But I knew we'd win anyway. Harry's a superb Seeker," grinned Ron.

"Besides, it's our last year. We had to do something to make it more memorable," Harry added.

The Gryffindors looked utterly shocked, though quite impressed.

"I wondered why you were sucking so bad up there," Dean finally said to Ron.

"I was about to hit you with my bat," Seamus admitted.

"So you were FAKING IT! The WHOLE TIME!" Ginny shrieked.

"Chill, Ginny. We just wanted a dramatic ending to the game is all," Harry explained, trying not to laugh at her reaction.

Hermione was frowning as well. She naturally didn't approve of his and Ron's antics, but after more contemplation, and since everyone else (besides Ginny) thought it amusing, Hermione soon agreed, and finally smiled.

"That's just brilliant. Wish I had known," Kevin said.

"It was taking all of our energy not to tell you guys. We've only been planning it for the past couple of weeks, and we realized that we wanted the game to look as real as possible. So I acted like an incompetent Keeper, while Harry kept himself busy deterring Frederiks from the Snitch. It was just perfect that Ravenclaw kept getting the Quaffle. It meant more goals for them, which sped the game up even more. We could have been up there for hours," Ron explained.

"Brilliant," Kevin gushed again.

"Good thing you won," Hermione said.

"Why's that?" asked Harry, an arm still around her waist.

"Party time, Mr. Captain?" she asked, smiling innocently and sweetly.

Harry grinned.

"I suggest you get inside quickly. Looks like it's going to rain," Sirius noted, looking at the darkening sky. It was still morning. "However, I'd like to speak with you two," Sirius added to Harry and Hermione as the others went on ahead to the school.

"What's up, Sirius?" asked Harry.

"I thought you should know, Hagrid will be back within the next couple of weeks," Sirius informed them.

"Really? So everything's well then? Has he succeeded this summer?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"It seems that way. He sent an owl to Dumbledore yesterday. Everything is well, and so is he."

Harry sighed with relief, and he heard Hermione do the same.

"We should pay him a visit upon his return," said Hermione once they were inside the castle.

"We'll take Ron with us. He'll be happy to see him as well," Harry said.

Once they entered through the portrait hole, they saw that the party was in full swing. Food, candy and drinks littered the tables, music seemed to be playing from nowhere in particular (Harry couldn't find the source), and people were laughing, singing, dancing, and celebrating.

They deserved this celebration, even though Ron and Harry had practically staged the game. Because the others had worked hard to win. Most of the team's success was due to them.

"JOIN IN THE FESTIVITIES!" shouted Leah York from the corner. She was sucking on a Sugar Quill and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself as she bounced around the room on a sugar-high.

Harry and Hermione laughed at this, and joined her, Seamus, Dean and Ron while the party went on well into the night.


To Be Continued...

Author's Note: In my defense, I already know that Gryffindor plays Slytherin in their first match of the season pretty much every year, and I'm perfectly aware that the Quidditch season started a little too early, and that I'm not necessarily following "canon." I did this purely for one reason: it worked for my story. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

So what's in store for the next chapter? What will Hagrid have to say to the trio? And will the mystery to Harry's prediction be resolved? Stay tuned and you'll find out!

Chapter 6: Hagrid's Back!
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: The Trio visits with Hagird, who has mysteriously broken his wrist. Harry, Hermione and Ron take themselves into the Forbidden Forest, in the process discovering something that none of them ever expected.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: Thanks to Gary Skinner, for his ideas, his opinions, and his lessons in grammar. And to the readers and reviewers, for your support and critical reviews. I enjoy both!

The next couple of weeks to follow were some of Harry's busiest of all. Quidditch practices continued with its three days-a-week course. Classes ran as scheduled, Head Boy duties took up some of his time, whether in classes, at lunch, or when Dumbledore needed him (and/or Hermione) to run a special task for him. The rest of his time (when he wasn't running tasks, doing homework, coaching practices, and having somewhat of a social life) was taken up by the most disturbing, grueling task of all. And he kept reminding himself that he was Head Boy, and that it was his duty alone that was forcing him to the task at hand.

The Halloween Ball.

Just thinking about it made Harry shiver. Though, he had to admit he was handling it a lot better than Ron, who indeed cringed when Harry or Hermione made mention of it. The only reason for their mention of the Ball (which was coming up in two weeks time) was because Harry and Hermione had been put in charge of planning it. However, there were so many details that had to be taken care of (such as theme, music, food, etc...) that Harry and Hermione couldn't do it all on their own, due to their already full schedule.

Thankfully, Ginny had volunteered to help. And somewhere along the line, Ron became involved as well. Ron detested this upcoming Ball because every year he never failed to ruin his own date. Harry figured Ron was a complicated person, with complicated emotions, and just needed to find that one person who would just--understand him. It seemed that that person was not destined to meet Ron anytime soon, because he was still miserable with the future prospect (though he liked to compare it to raising Blast-ended Skrewts) of finding a date.

And so the planning continued, well into mid-October. The temperature had dropped a considerable amount, which allowed for the usage of the fireplaces. The fireplace aglow, with Harry and Ron concentrating on their homework, with other students in the common room either doing homework or gossiping (Lavender and Parvati more likely), Hermione and Ginny came bustling through the portrait hole, in obvious high spirits.

Ginny clutched a big folder to her chest, which contained the planning of the Ball. Since she had volunteered, and since she had so much time on her hands, she had insisted upon taking on most of the work. Likewise, she never went through with any of the details until asking permission from Harry and Hermione. They had insisted that asking them was silly, because they trusted her judgment and knew that she knew what she was doing.

Hermione was clutching her own books, and her smile brightened even more when she saw Harry and Ron sitting down to work.

"Don't give me that look," Harry said to her indignantly.

"What look?" Hermione asked innocently, sitting down next to Harry and giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"The look that suggests I don't do my homework. The look that suggests that this is the first time in the six and some years we've been here that you've actually seen me do my homework," Harry replied. From beside Ron, Ginny giggled, and grabbed their attention by slamming down the folder on the table.

Startled, Harry turned from his girlfriend to the youngest Weasley.

"I've done it. They've finally agreed," Ginny said, beaming.

"Well, don't you look proud. So spill," said Ron.

Ginny cast a worried glance to Ron, and then took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Suddenly, she seemed reluctant.

"I, er--got the Weird Sisters signed for the Ball," she said.

As Ginny expected, Ron turned bright red with her revelation and he suddenly seemed ten-times more interested in his assignment than anything else, as he began to scribble furiously on his parchment.

"Really!" Harry exclaimed. "How'd you manage that?"

Ginny turned her half-apologetic, half-concerned gaze from Ron to Harry and her former expressions evaporated as she beamed at him.

"With my cunning and talent, of course," she bragged, perking up in her seat and puffing out her chest much like her older brother Percy would do.

Harry laughed in delight.

"But seriously, I conned them into it. One of my finer moments," Ginny said.

"But how!" exclaimed Harry.

Ginny sighed, tilting her head to the side, trying to look knowledgeable. "Oh, but Harry, if I disclosed that information to you, I would no longer be cunning, and my talent wouldn't be so unique now, would it? I'm afraid it is too much of a risk to take," she said dramatically.

Harry laughed again while Ron stayed solemn.

"Oh, Ron," comforted Hermione. "I'm sure it'll work out better this year."

Ron flinched, and Harry knew he was only remembering what he had tried so hard to forget.

Ginny placed a hand on her brother's arm, her brown eyes warm with concern.

"It's just a Ball. You don't have to go," she told him.

"Yes, I do," Ron mumbled, now hiding his face in his hands. He couldn't believe that after a year, he still felt like such a fool.

The year before, it hadn't been a Halloween Ball, but a Valentine's Day Ball. Romance was in the air, couples were happy, love was the theme of everyone's conversation. Ron, of course, didn't have anyone to love, let alone to go to the Ball with. So he went alone. And while he was there, alone, one of the Weird Sisters had approached him with love in her eyes. Disturbingly hairy, Ron turned her away. Not because he was disgusted, as he constantly denied, but because he felt uncomfortable on the dancing floor. The result of this was horrifying on Ron's part. The Slytherins taunted and teased relentlessly, and the Weird Sisters, for the remainder of the evening, refused to play any more slow songs, which made everyone bitter since it was a Valentine's Day dance, and it was an opportunity to get some one-on-one time with their loved ones.

The tormenting had stopped now. Summer had come and gone, and since school had started, Malfoy had said nothing to either Ron, Harry or Hermione. This puzzled Harry greatly, and up until now he had chosen not to reflect on its meaning. Malfoy was as complicated as Ron, but with more of an evil twist to him.

In spite of all of this, there had been many times when Malfoy could have had a perfect shot at insulting Harry. He shared his Divinition class with him, where the barmy Trelawney always had something to say about Harry. But nothing. Not a smirk, not a sneer, not a gesture. Draco hadn't completely ignored him however. Even when they weren't in class, they still had Quidditch and a Pitch to share. And during these practices he seemed to be more interested in Harry's team than he was his own.

Harry didn't react to this, trying to keep as calm as a Captain could be. But he had become convinced that Draco Malfoy was spying. Though, the blond Slytherin wasn't doing a very good job of remaining inconspicuous. He showed open interest, and Harry decided that it was high time to bring this up to his team. They already seemed concerned with the fact that the Slytherins could in fact, be "stealing their moves".

It was only when Hermione headed to her own dorm that Harry approached Ron and Ginny with the plan of a future Team Meeting.

"Sure. What's up?" asked Ron curiously.

"The Slytherins," Harry replied. There was no distaste in his voice, or even open hostility. He was as cool as a cucumber.

"What for?" asked Ginny, who was bending over to collect her school work and Halloween Ball folder. Ron copied Ginny, gathering his books.

"I just have some concerns I'd like to address. Nothing really serious," he told them.

"But why the Slytherins? What have they done?" asked Ginny, her hair blocking her face as she was bent over, picking up her things.

"They've been to nearly every single practice we've had. We have to think of a way to deter them from spying on us, or-- we have to devise a plan that will throw them off. Think of new tactics, new strategies, so that when it comes to the game, they won't know what hit them," Harry explained.

"What makes you think they're spying on us?" asked Ginny, still ruffling through her books, making sure she had her quills.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't believe they are?" replied Harry, slightly puzzled by her attitude.

"Are you saying," Ginny said, still ruffling through her books, head bowed, now making sure she had her ink, "is that because they hang around our practices, practicing themselves, that means they're trying to steal our tactics?" she asked.

"Maybe. Have you got any other suggestions?" asked Harry.

She ruffled through her books, making sure she had her parchment.

"Maybe they have a thing for you Harry. I've seen the way Draco looks at you," purred Ginny. She looked up now, grinning slyly.

Harry laughed dryly.

"That's sick," was Ron's reply.

Ginny giggled. "See? It could be any reason. And I was only kidding," she added.

"Say anything like that again, and I'll have you thrown off the team," Harry finally said in his most serious tone.

Ginny gave him a sweet smile, and shook her head.

"You'd never, because you know we can't win the Quidditch cup without my superb skills as a Chaser."

Harry grinned. "Got that right. And getting back to the subject at hand--I have a feeling that something is going on with the Slytherins. Just you wait," Harry told her.

"And I'm just trying to tell you that I think you're wrong about what your instincts are telling you," she said calmly.

"I'm going upstairs!" Ron announced as he made his getaway to the dormitory stairs. "I can't take much more talk of Slytherins." He tossed the last part over his shoulder as he disappeared up the stairs.

Harry and Ginny continued talking as though they hadn't heard Ron.

"Really? I'm wrong? What makes you so sure?" he asked.

At this, Ginny faltered, as if searching for the right answer.

"I'm not sure. But--you can't just assume the worst of them, you know. They aren't all bad," she said.

Harry pondered this, and regarded Ginny curiously. Malfoy hadn't been the only one acting strange the past month and a half.

But before he could linger on these thoughts, Hermione had returned, books gone, but wearing her cloak.

"Nighttime stroll, love?" asked Harry, suddenly forgetting about his debate with Ginny.

"We're going to visit Hagrid, now that he's back from doing that special task for Dumbledore. Go get Ron," Hermione instructed.

Ginny, with her books, quill, ink, and parchment in hand, went up to her own dormitories, saying goodbye to Hermione on her way up.

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione called after her retreating back.

"Yes?"

"Thanks," said Hermione. Ginny turned back briefly.

"For?" she asked curiously.

"You really have amazing organizational skills, you know that? It really is quite a talent," she told her.

Ginny tried to suppress a smile, but found that it was useless. She beamed, and turned back to finish climbing the stairs.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood facing Hagrid's cabin. Harry knocked hard, three times, before Hagrid opened the door, first peering out cautiously, then his eyes fell upon his visitors.

"'Ello yeh three! Bin waitin' fer yer visit," exclaimed Hagrid, beaming fondly at the three of them.

"Welcome back, Hagrid," Harry greeted as Hagrid opened the door wide, stepping out of the way for them to walk through the massive doorway.

Harry scanned the little cabin, familiarizing himself with all the things he had grown used to over the years. The fireplace, Fang (Hagrid's Boarhound), the large chairs that seemed to swallow any normal sized human. He then spotted the flowery pink umbrella in the corner. The same one that had given Dudley Dursley a pig's tail so many years ago. Harry felt a warm tingle cascade over him, remembering the first feeling of leaving the Dursleys, the feeling of the newfound knowledge that he was a wizard.

"Hagrid! What happened to your arm!" exclaimed Ron, his mouth agape. They all found seats and faced Hagrid, who's bandaged arm was in a sling.

The half-giant looked slightly embarrassed, and more than reluctant to tell them what happened. "Ne'er yeh mind," he said in an attempt to avoid their prodding questions.

"We're your friends, Hagrid. You can tell us," Hermione said gently. She took her seat next to Harry, with Ron on the other side of him.

"Alrigh'. I fell," was his simple reply.

"Fell?" asked Harry, deeply concerned for his professor and friend.

"In the Forbidden Forest. Puzzlin', ter me, t'is," Hagrid said.

"You know that forest like the back of your hand! How could you possibly have fallen?" asked Ron.

Hagrid regarded the three of them with his beetle-black eyes, suddenly aware that he had no choice but to answer their questions.

"I was takin' Fang fer a walk and we--I-- stumbled into a hole in the groun'," he told them.

"What were you doing there, Hagrid?" asked Harry.

This time Hagrid didn't look embarrassed, or upset. He looked downright terrifying. Angry, almost vengeful.

But he hesitated nonetheless, not wanting to startle or worry his three students. But he had always tried to be honest with them. He also knew that nothing short of the Avada Kedavra Curse would stop them from their constant questions.

"There's been a unicorn killin'," he replied grimly, and sniffled as his eyes grew dewy. Harry instantly felt sympathetic. Not necessarily for the unicorn, but for Hagrid as well. He normally took animal killings personally. He had a real love for rare creatures, even dangerous ones.

"When did this happen, Hagrid?" asked Harry.

Hagrid stiffened, yet with a resolve that told the trio that he had no desire to reveal any more information.

"Who killed the unicorn, Hagrid?" Harry pressed with determination. Yet at the same time he was afraid to hear the answer, his mind reeling from possibilities and memories of the past.

"I dunno the answer ter that, Harry. But do yeh need one? I'm sure yeh'll draw yer own conclusions. But yeh'all have ter promise ter not go lookin' fer the source. Promise me," Hagrid demanded, his beetle-black eyes narrowing.

The three exchanged looks, and they finally nodded.

Hagrid sighed with relief, and relaxed by sitting back in his seat. "Now, don' worry 'bout me arm. It don' hurt," Hagrid assured them.

"But why don't you just go see Madam Pomfrey?" asked Hermione.

Hagrid lowered his eyes, flushing with embarrassment once again.

"I'll be righ' healed soon. I don' want ter bother the nurse," he said.

Harry knew that his real reason was that he was more ashamed than anything else, and wanted to keep his accident a secret. He'd have kept it from Harry himself, if he hadn't shown up at his door.

"Well, we don't want to keep you, Hagrid. You're tired and everything, and you've had quite the trip," Harry said. They all stood to make their leave.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Hermione promised, reaching over to give the giant a hug.

"Yeh better, or I'll grow mad wit bored'm," Hagrid replied gruffly.

"Don't you have classes to prepare?" asked Ron curiously.

Hagrid gave a loud, gruff laugh. "S'pose so. Thanks fer remindin' me."

"We'll see you later, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Remember yer promise!" Hagrid said in a booming voice which startled them. Hagrid took a deep breath and exhaled as he regarded his three students with narrowed eyes. "Yeh know the sayin'. Curiosity killed the cat, is all I'm tryin' ter tell yeh." he added more calmly.

"Yeah," Ron said, smiling slightly. "But satisfaction brought him back, Hagrid. Goodnight!" he said cheerfully as they exited the cabin.

They stepped outside, and were greeted by a cool, sweeping wind that made them pull their cloaks tighter around them.

"Anyone else besides me have the jitters?" asked Ron as they walked down the steps to the hut and walked a few small paces.

"Hagrid looked slightly worried," Harry admitted, shivering against the cool wind.

"More than usual," Hermione added softly, in a thoughtful manner that told Harry she was concerned about something.

"Do you guys see what I see?" asked Ron.

Harry and Hermione followed the direction of his eyes, and saw what he was talking about.

Large, swelling round pumkins. About two dozen or so growing in a patch.

"They're massive," said Harry.

"Yeah, but he's grown them before, remember?" reminded Hermione.

"How is it possible that they could already be this large?" asked Ron. "I mean, he's only been back for a few days."

Hermione gave him a pointed look.

"Isn't it rather obvious?" she asked.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind that he might have used magic. But he's not allowed, is he?" asked Ron.

"I suppose every now and then Dumbledore gives him a little leeway. Just a little Engorgement Charm to do the trick," answered Hermione.

Harry smiled. Good ole Hagrid. "They'll be ready for Halloween," he said.

The three left, only to talk about what Hagrid had mentioned inside the cabin.

"Do you think...?" Ron asked, but cut himself off. First, he didn't like to mention the terrifying implications of a dead unicorn, and second, he didn't want to worry his best friend by insinuating these implications.

"There's only one way to find out for sure," was Harry's reply. Ron and Hermione knew this would be his response, and in light of the consequences (and their promise to Hagrid), they could only agree and support him.

"I'll get out my dad's cloak."

There was a chance that after everyone was in bed that they could still run into someone, anyone, such as professors, or students of other houses. The Gryffindor house was completely silent, however, which made sneaking out less difficult than predicted.

They also took into account that they had had lots of practice sneaking out at night under the comfort of the Invisibility Cloak. Though, as Hermione pointed out, there was no way that three grown students were going to fit under one cloak without showing some finger, nose or foot. It was then that Harry made the decision to go on ahead and pretend that he was scouring the castle for prowling students (the irony of the situation) and made his way outside, waiting for Ron and Hermione to arrive invisible.

"Harry," came Hermione's shrill whisper, after Harry had been waiting for nearly 15 minutes.

The cloak came undone, and Harry saw through the darkness the visible forms of Ron and Hermione materialize.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

They nodded, staying mute, and crossed the field with Harry, Ron clutching fast to the Invisibility Cloak.

They reached the woods, no longer under the guiding light of the stars and the moon. The three pulled out their wands and muttered "Lumos."

Instant nostalgia filled Harry as they walked deeper into the woods. The last time he had been here it had been the previous May, when the Spirit of the Ring had been released, and had destroyed Lord Voldemort on the spot.

"Where do you think Hagrid tripped?" asked Ron, visibly terrified, and struggling to look as brave as Harry.

But Harry didn't feel brave. He felt like the 11-year-old he once was, during his first time in the forest.

They circled trees, rocks, clearings, and the most exiting part of their trip through the forest was when Ron jumped after he heard scurrying to their left. But the sound disappeared quickly, and they were once again alone.

"Spiders," Ron muttered.

"There are no spiders. We aren't that far in," Harry comforted. Hermione shuddered, and moved closer to Harry, who put an arm around her waist to support her.

"Do you want to go back? We don't have to go through with this," he said to her.

Hermione shook her head firmly, and stuck by Harry's side.

Trying to keep her mind off of the terror of the forest he said, "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

Hermione smiled in remembrance. "How could I forget?"

"Oh sure," sniffed Ron. "Go ahead and leave me out of the conversation!"

The others laughed with him, feeling slightly lighter as they trudged through the dark woods. After searching for what seemed an endless amount of time, they decided to give up.

"Well, since we're here, you may as well show me where the Spirit appeared. I wasn't there for it, remember?" Ron said, after an hour of searching. They were all getting very cold, and very tired.

Harry and Hermione agreed, thinking of this particular landmark as a happy memory, even in the gloom of the forest.

"Here it is," Harry pointed. He looked all around the clearing, recognizing the trees and the bushes.

"Harry," gasped Hermione, a look of horror etched across her face. She pointed a solitary finger owards the ground, where a small version of a crator now resided.

"Remember, that's where Voldemort--"

"I know. But...look," Hermione hissed, and all three knelt down to observe the hole.

Specks of silver dotted the black depths, and a nagging voice at the back of Harry's mind told him that this was important.

"Unicorn blood, like Hagrid said," Ron voiced, and looked up to meet Harry's eyes, which were flashing with concern, curiosity, and worry. Silently they seemed to send a message to each other without Hermione's knowledge. They exchanged the long forgotten prediction in Professor Trelawney's class.

'Silver points on a field of black' was the vision that had been foretold to them on their first day of classes, over a month ago. Now with the realization that the prediction looked to be authentic, Harry shivered.

"This must be where Hagrid fell," said Hermione, oblivious to the exchange between the other two.

"Must be," agreed Harry. What did this hole mean? It hadn't been here before, that was for sure. Yet this was the exact spot that Voldemort had died. And now, there was the knowledge that a unicorn had been killed nearby.

"Well, this is puzzling," said Hermione, voicing Harry's thoughts.

They all stood up, still peering down at the hole.

"So are you guys eventually going to tell me about Professor Trelawney's prediction?" Hermione asked.

Harry's eyes widened with Ron's, more freaked that she knew about the prediction than anything else.

"Er, how'd you know?" asked Harry nervously.

"I've known for weeks now. Honestly, Harry. I expected better from you," Hermione huffed.

"Even if I did tell you, you'd only ridicule it. Besides, I never took it seriously, neither did Ron," Harry said in his defense.

"I still don't," muttered Ron, though there wasn't the usual strength in his voice. He had been thoroughly shaken by the sight of the hole. For more reasons than just the one prediction.

"You should have said something," Hermione replied stubbornly.

Harry sighed. True, he should have told her. But what would be the use? Was this even the prediction that Trelawney had foreseen?

"How'd you know about the prediction?" asked Harry.

"Who else? Lavender and Parvati practically knocked me down the stairs, so excited to hear Trelawney's first prediction of the year," she said in a mocking tone.

"And what'd you think?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. "What was I supposed to think? I ridiculed it, as you said I would," she admitted.

"And now?" Harry wondered.

Hermione sighed, looking as puzzled as he felt. The girl who normally had all the answers couldn't even find comfort in her far-reaching knowledge. They all left the chilling atmosphere of the forest, eager to surrender themselves to sleep. They would think about everything later. Right now, ignorance certainly was bliss.


To Be Continued...

Author's Note: gil: First, I noticed you have reviewed 'The Joining' by Stoneheart. That is great! I was really excited when I saw that review left by you. That's my favorite story written by him, and I've read a lot by him. He is a fantastic writer.

Anyway, when you asked about Trelawney's/Harry's "first" prediction, I thought: that makes sense. Technically, it should only be considered Trelawney's prediction. However, I consider it Harry's and only because he's seen it, too. Had it only been Trelawney's vision, Harry would not have seen it, and it wouldn't be considered Harry's prediction at all. (I apologize for sounding redundant. It's early still, and I haven't had my coffee yet). In any case, I know that Harry didn't voice the prediction, which really doesn't even make it his. And this is where Trelawney comes in. Harry sort of "speaks" through her. She's his voice when these visions come to him. And yes, this means that there are more predictions to come. I appreciate your reviews so much. I hope you continue reading.

And thanks to everyone else!

Chapter 7: The Hallowe'en Ball
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@Hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: In this chapter we watch the students celebrate Halloween night at the Ball. Who's going with whom? And why is Ginny acting so mysterious?
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks:First, to Gary Skinner, a fantastic Beta to boot, and then to my brother, who has supported me from day one.

Dedicated to all the girls out there that want to be Sirius's date for the Ball

October 31st. The Halloween Ball.

Harry stood in front of his mirror, in his single room, frustrated for more than one reason. First: He couldn't seem to get his robe fitted just right. He struggled with the material that seemed to want to go one way, when he wanted it to go the other. Second: Hermione had locked herself firmly in her room with the firm promise to curse Harry if he tried to get in. She obviously wanted to be alone to get ready, which left his frustration number three: he needed her help, and she wasn't there to give it. Cursing his robes, he jumped when a desperate knock came at the door.

"Come in," said Harry, from his spot at the opposite side of the room.

Ron stepped in, and Harry could swear he had never seen him looking so excited and flustered in his whole life.

"She said yes," he blurted, sitting on the corner of Harry's bed. But immediately the red head stood up again as he paced the room.

"Who's 'she'?" asked Harry, as he turned from his mirror to his best friend.

"Leah."

"Leah?" Harry asked in bewilderment. He hadn't even known that Ron was interested in Leah York, their Gryffindor Chaser for the Quidditch team.

"Hey, don't look so surprised," Ron said, mistaking the look.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "I just never saw that coming." And indeed he hadn't. Leah was pretty and had a wonderful personality. Being able to make anyone laugh, (she was as funny as Hermione was smart) and all in all, she was a very lovable person. Not to mention that she was an excellent Chaser.

"It just sort of--happened," Ron admitted in a highly anxious voice. "Well, I can't stay. I just thought I'd let you know. I have to get ready too, you know," he added as he made his way to the door.

"Hey, Ron."

Ron turned back to Harry, who smiled.

"I'm happy for you. Really. She's lucky to have a guy like you," he said.

Ron smiled back.

"It's just a dance. Nothing more." But he looked disappointed at the prospect.

"This is the last Ball you'll ever attend here at Hogwarts. Make it more," insisted Harry.

Ron smiled and left, only to leave Harry to his own devices. He cursed his robes again.

"Yes," said his mirror in an amused voice. "You'd think a Head Boy would know how to dress himself."

"Shut up."

The late hour was approaching, and with Ginny's help, Harry managed to fix himself up. Now all he had to do was wait for the girl of his dreams (and reality) to finish getting herself ready.

"Girls will be girls," cautioned Ginny, who also waited completely ready. She chose to wear a deep sapphire blue gown, her straight, red hair swept back into a twist, the ends of her hair sprouting out at the top. Harry had to admit that Hermione wouldn't be the only one attracting all the attention tonight.

"You're not bringing anyone to the dance?" asked Harry.

Ginny shrugged. "I didn't really want to. I don't mind going alone," she said.

Harry raised a brow, just as Hermione finally exited her room, and appeared at the top stairs of the common room.

In Harry's opinion, the wait was well worth it.

A long flowing gown, like Ginny's, cascaded to her ankles. Her dress, a spaghetti strap, flowed down to her ankles in a deep crimson shade that matched the ruby which dangled from a fine chain that hung around her neck, and the rubies that decorated her lobes. She chose not to wear a stitch of make-up, though her lips did look a deeper shade of red, probably to match her dress. Her hair was not as straight as it had been the night of the Yule Ball in their 4th year. Instead it was curlier, with tiny ringlets swept back, a few left astray, tickling her shoulders.

By the time Harry had finished memorizing every last detail of the way she looked, Hermione had made her way to him and Ginny, a sweet smile playing on her face.

"Are we ready?" she asked.

Harry was speechless. He felt like he was standing in front of a temptress. His temptress. He wasn't jealous by nature, in fact he scorned jealousy. Irrational behaviour was Ron's department. Harry's was to be fair and logical. But right now all of that seemed to fly out the window. But a voice in his head kept reminding him that he was not in the least possessive, and that Hermione would inevitably catch most of, if not all, everyone's attention.

"You're breathtaking," sighed Harry, pulling her into an embrace. She giggled softly, running a hand through his soft and naturally wild hair.

"You don't look so bad yourself, love," she drawled seductively.

From behind them, Ginny giggled. She could just imagine Harry's rambling, incoherent thoughts in response to Hermione's teasing voice.

Harry held out both elbows. Hermione latched onto his left side, while Ginny slipped her arm through his right. The two girls exchanged broad grins.

"I'll consider myself the luckiest guy in the school," Harry announced, as they made their way to the portrait hole.

"Let me guess, smooth talker that you are. You get to escort the two loveliest girls in Hogwarts?" wondered Ginny.

Harry smiled knowingly. "I was actually going to say 'two loveliest girls in the wizardry world'."

Ginny sighed impatiently. "Always trying to out-do the other, aren't we, Harry," she said.

Hermione sent Ginny a teasing grin, and squeezed Harry's arm playfully.

Harry laughed. "I could never out-do you, Ginny. You have a bit of a nasty streak when the occasion arises."

"And don't you forget it," was her quick reply.

They made their way to the Great Hall, which Ginny had decorated with the help of Dumbledore and Hermione. The Hall was a flourish of black and orange, and all around, Hagrid's giant (magical grown) pumpkins were visible to everyone's eye. Over a thousand bats fluttered high above their heads. They had decorated right after the feast, when the younger students had trudged out of the Great Hall with much reluctance. Their desire was to stay for the Ball, but they knew that it was against the rules, unless invited by a student in 4th year or older.

"Fashionably late, are we?" asked Sirius.

Harry and Hermione, as Head Boy and Girl, had seats at the High Table. Sirius and Dumbledore served as chaperones, The Weird Sisters provided the music, and the House Elves supplied the food. The students provided everything else: Dancing, laughter, chatter, and the overall cheery atmosphere.

All of Harry's nervousness ebbed away, and he grew comfortable sitting next to Hermione at the High Table. Even the worries of the previous two weeks couldn't take away from how he felt tonight. Harry looked across the room and found Ron and Leah dancing to one of the Weird Sisters slower tunes. They seemed to be having an in depth conversation as they moved closer together.

Harry smiled and nudged Hermione. She looked in Ron's direction, then looked back at Harry and smiled.

"It's about time, don't you think?" she asked.

"They seem happy," he replied.

Hermione slipped a hand into his, and their fingers interlaced. "We seem happy, don't we?" she asked.

Harry nodded and brought their entwined hands up to his lips to kiss her fingers. "We are happy, love. I just hope Ron's happiness can match our own, because right now, I doubt I could feel any happier than I already am," he told her, feeling impulsively romantic.

"Oh, you're that happy, are you?" she replied coyly. She kissed him softly before he could reply.

"Hey, there's a time and place for everything," Sirius teased.

Hermione turned a thoughtful gaze to Harry's godfather. "I see you haven't brought a date. Why's that?" she asked.

Sirius's light eyes widened, and he exchanged looks with his godson.

"I'm a professor, Hermione," he said, taken aback.

"So? Since when can't professors date?" she asked.

"Well, there are many reasons," and he began to tick them off with each finger. "One: A professor doesn't have enough time to date. Two: It's unprofessional for a professor to bring a date to a Ball that is meant for students. Three:--"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Sirius," said Dumbledore, overhearing their conversation. "Tell them the truth. You know as well as I do, that professors are allowed to date. And I was the one who insisted that you bring one. You simply refused."

For the first time in Harry's life, he saw Sirius go red with embarrassment. His godfather avoided the look of amusement that appeared on Harry and Hermione's face.

"Thank you for that, Headmaster," replied Sirius. Dumbledore chuckled in return.

"I don't see why not," continued Hermione. "You're still young. You've still got your looks."

"Is she always this incorrigible?" Sirius asked Harry with a look of disbelief on his face.

"Did he just say incorrigible, or absolutely adorable?" Harry cooed, his hand resting on the swell of Hermione's hip.

"Speaking of incorrigible," Sirius muttered, shaking his head at Harry in mock wonder.

Harry and Hermione both laughed as they ate and talked some more. Harry then led his girlfriend out onto the dance floor once another slow tune started up.

They danced to the rhythm of the music, doing a minor impression of the waltz.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, looking up at him with a frown of worry.

He met her gaze, and nodded firmly.

"I can tell, you know," Hermione pressed. "You can't hide it from me. What's wrong?"

"Does it show? I thought I was doing a good job of keeping my thoughts in the dark," Harry admitted.

"You probably are-- to everyone else. Is it the hole? The unicorn?" Hermione guessed.

Harry nodded. "I can't help it. Even tonight, when I want everything to go as smoothly as possible, it's still there in the back of my mind. What do you make of it?" asked Harry for the millionth time in the two weeks since they had come across the mystery in the forest.

"Of what exactly?"

"Everything, all of it. The hole, the prediction, the unicorn blood," Harry said in a low voice.

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, pondering her answer in a way so she wouldn't sound redundant to Harry.

"It matches, doesn't it? 'Silver points on a field of black'? But the question is, what does it mean?" Hermione replied.

Harry shrugged, looking as confused as he felt.

"I have some theories. None of which are on the positive side," Harry replied darkly. "A unicorn is dead. Someone needed the blood. Do you remember the last time we heard a unicorn was killed?"

"Yes. I remember. Don't forget who you're talking to," replied Hermione. "What do you think, then?" she asked.

Harry sighed, and shook his head, not wanting to answer.

"You should go to Dumbledore," Hermione suggested with a sudden inspiration.

"No," Harry shook his head firmly. "Not until there's something to worry about." Harry looked up as though a voice in his head told him to. He saw Malfoy standing nearby, regarding him with a curious, but equally knowing look. There wasn't the same coldness in his eyes, but nevertheless, Harry shivered.

He looked back down at Hermione.

"I think we should talk about this later. There's a lot of people around. People could unintentionally eavesdrop," he said, looking back up at Malfoy.

The blond boy took this as a sign, and started to move through the sea of dancing couples. Harry lost sight of him, and finally regained his composure. There was something going on...something he couldn't put a finger on. He would find out, he knew. Inevitably, he always found out. But he'd do anything to at least have a clue, so he could wash away his curiosity and confusion.

Sighing with agreement, Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, placing their entwined fingers against his heart.

"I love you," she said.

Harry looked down at her, feeling his heart swell with a love that would run deep for all of eternity. This love was for real, and how lucky he felt. How privileged.

"Back atcha, love," he said. Soon the dance came to a close.

They shared another dance, which was longer than the last, and then they made their way to the High Table where Ron and Leah sat side by side in Harry and Hermione's chairs, talking to Sirius and Dumbledore.

"Trying to replace me, Ron?" asked Harry, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I would never dream of it, Harry. Have you guys seen Ginny?" Ron asked.

The Head Boy and Girl both shrugged.

"The last time I saw her was when she was dancing with Dean. That was...when...?"

"More than half an hour ago," Hermione answered for Harry.

Ron looked puzzled.

"That's quite a while," he said, then shrugged. "She'll be back. I'm sure she's fine."

"Do you want to go look for her? I could, if you want," offered Harry.

"No, don't worry yourself. I'm just being paranoid," Ron insisted.

Harry exchanged looks with Hermione.

"You sure about that, Ron? Hey, maybe she made off with a Slytherin," Harry joked.

Ron scrunched up his nose, and made some gagging noises to go with it.

"Don't joke about that," Sirius said calmly, and it appeared that he was trying not to laugh. "Mr Malfoy is missing as well," he told them.

Hermione saw the humor in this, and burst out laughing, along with Harry.

Ron shot them deadly glares.

"Well you're both wrong, because there he is now," Ron said, pointing.

Draco Malfoy had just walked into the room, apparently searching for Crabbe and Goyle, though he didn't have to search long. His two goons were massive.

Not two minutes after Malfoy had walked in, Ginny appeared.

"It's about time. Where have you been?" demanded Ron, as Ginny made her way to the High Table.

"None of your business, dear brother of mine," Ginny replied with annoyance laced in her voice. "But if you must know, nature called. These gowns are a pain to get back on, which is why it took me so long to get back," Ginny explained, as though she had rehearsed this phrase from a textbook.

"I suppose using a Charm would be out of the question?" asked Ron mockingly.

Ginny's face grew blank, and finally she shrugged.

"I left my wand on my nightstand. But what does it really matter? I'm here now. Did you miss me that much?" she asked. Everyone at the table sniggered.

Ron scowled. "Don't get coy with me. When you're gone for no apparent reason, and for longer than half an hour, I worry," he said.

"Well... don't worry. I'm a big girl. If I get into trouble, I know how to defend myself. And I highly doubt that a bathroom stall is going to attack me in the middle of a Halloween Ball," Ginny shot back.

Everyone at the table watched with amusement, listening to Ron and Ginny's petty bickering. They were so alike it was scary.

"Don't be so sure," Ron replied coolly. "This is a Wizardry castle, is it not? Anything can happen. Just forget I mentioned it. I'm not going to get sucked into your games tonight."

"Well, goody," Ginny replied sarcastically. She turned to Harry then, dismissing Ron.

"Harry, would you care to dance? Unless, of course, Hermione isn't willing to share."

"Just bring him back in one piece. It's all I ask," Hermione said with a smile.

Harry happily led Ginny out onto the dance floor, where another slow tune curbed the pace of the previous fast song.

"So let's hear the truth now," said Harry, placing a hand around Ginny's tiny frame, clasping a hand in her spare one.

"The truth?" Ginny asked.

Harry's emerald eyes twinkled down at her. "I'm not as blind as you might have assumed me to be, Miss Weasley. Out with it," he said.

Ginny's face contorted to so many different emotions, Harry couldn't decide which one was the dominant. Nervousness, confusion, secrecy, or even relief.

"There is something, isn't there?" Harry said in a rhetorical tone. There was no denying it. She had a secret.

"No, there's nothing. Nothing big. Please, just don't ask me. Not right now. I promise that when the time comes... I'll tell you. Right now I'm just not ready," Ginny replied in a rush.

Harry stared at her long and hard. He could keep pressing it, or he could let her confide when she was ready. What to do?

"You can't even give me a hint?" he asked.

"You're not stupid, Potter. If I gave you one hint, you'd figure out the truth in an instant. This is something I'm not prepared for. But--if it makes you feel any better, you'll be the first to know when the time does come," she promised.

That was good enough for Harry. He dropped the subject.

"You do realize that you have attracted a lot of attention here tonight?" he asked.

"Oh," Ginny waved a dismissive hand. "That's because I came here alone. You see, even if every guy in here was taken, a single girl will always look attractive. Not to say that they'd approach me, or want to leave their significant others for me, but that's just the way it goes. Attached guys will always have that secret desire for a single girl," she explained.

Harry smiled. "Is that a fact?" he asked.

"It is. Though we have our few exceptions. For example, you and Hermione. I, on the other hand, am not looking. And you, Mr. Potter, had better stop flattering me so much this evening," Ginny warned, grinning.

"I'll stop if you pay me," Harry suggested lightly.

Ginny laughed. "I'm not going to pay you," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Well...if you won't pay me, then I'm afraid I'll have to decline your request."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I don't know what has gotten into you this evening. But I would suggest you stay away from the snacks and the drinks."

Harry laughed. "Well, at least we know it's not Fred or George spiking the punch this year."

"Hear, hear!" Ginny's giggles soon disolved into a serene smile as she looked up at Harry in wonder. "She's so lucky, you know."

Harry returned the smile, thinking that it was really the other way around. "Same to the guy that eventually steals your heart."

"But what about my brother and Leah? What's going on with them?" Ginny asked, hastily changing the subject. She nodded towards the High Table where Leah, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Dumbledore seemed to be in a very amusing conversation.

"They're very cute, aren't they?" said Harry, storing away in his mind Ginny's abrupt change in subject.

"I'm happy for them both. Though, I'm sure that they haven't even realized just how wonderful they are together. They came as friends, you know," Ginny said.

"Yes, Ron told me as much. Won't it be interesting when it turns to something more? We all see it. I look forward to the day when Ron realizes it."

"Leah, too. She's very pretty, don't you think? Oh, don't answer that. I wasn't trying to trap you. But I'm sure you know what I mean," said Ginny, slightly flustered.

"That Leah could have nearly any guy in school?" Harry elaborated. "She's got everything Ron needs, I think. And I honestly didn't even realize that until this second."

"Me, too."

The dance came to a close.

"Harry, please don't mention anything to the others, over what we talked about," Ginny said.

"You have my word," promised Harry. And he meant it.

"Thanks. I'm going to find someone else to dance with! Thank you for the dance, Harry," and she kissed him on the cheek.

Harry watched her saunter across the dance floor, making her way to Colin Creevey, then Harry made his way to his own table. Across the room Harry spotted Draco Malfoy dancing with a good-looking Slytherin Harry recognized as Jessica Williamson, and Harry realized with a certain amount of amusement that Malfoy didn't seem to be enjoying himself.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, taking notice that Hermione was now sitting where Ron sat, talking with Leah.

Harry took the seat on the other side of where Leah was sitting and leaned over so he could be included in the conversation.

"He went to get some drinks," answered Leah.

Harry took notice of the permanent smile that had appeared on her face since the beginning of the dance, and said, "you both seem to be enjoying yourselves."

Leah grinned, her face turning slightly pink.

"The truth is, I've liked him since as far back as I can remember," she confessed. "There's just, something about him, isn't there?" she said in a softer voice that Harry wasn't used to hearing from her.

Harry nodded. "He's a great friend. I think you two would be really good together," he told her.

Leah's face fell. "I don't think he's in it for that. I think he just wanted me as a date for the Ball, you know? But that's OK. That's good enough for me. Maybe someday..." and she trailed off, looking straight ahead, avoiding Harry and Hermione's puzzled looks.

Obviously, Ron had feelings for Leah, and apparently Ron hadn't done anything to make that obvious to Leah. Leah had just confessed that she had liked Ron for (what it seemed) years, and though she had an outgoing personality, she was undoubtedly shy about telling Ron how she felt.

Harry grinned. This could prove to provide endless amounts of amusement: to set Ron and Leah up. Ginny would want to take part in this as well.

Then Leah continued, not speaking directly to them. She spoke as though she were writing in her diary. "Out of all the guys I've ever been interested in, he's the only one who's ever made me feel this way. It's so confusing, yet it's so wonderful. I feel so warm when he's around," she said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said, and caught Harry's eye. "I know exactly how you feel."


To Be Continued...

Chapter 8: A Picture's Worth
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Ginny and Harry have a late night talk where Ginny tells him something he wasn't prepared to hear. Trelawney makes another prediction, and Draco Malfoy's strange behavior is finally explained.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks:To Gary Skinner, for all his undying support, and to all the readers and reviewers, for simply being there. And to the readers and reviewers for continually giving me the support I need!

Author's Note: I've been meaning to post, but life gets in the way. Anyway, here it is! Enjoy! (Expect more chapters to come within the next day or two).

Dedicated to Gary, for Colin's role in the chapter

It was a weary Harry Potter who made his way to his common room at a very late hour. He was sure that he was the only one in the whole school that was left awake, considering the time of night it was. Even Hermione was tucked away, sleeping soundly, and Harry's heart fell when he realized he would not have her to talk to before he went to sleep. So when Harry stepped through the portrait hole, and crossed the common room, he was certainly surprised to find that someone was indeed still awake.

Ginny Weasley.

She stood by the window, staring out onto the vastness of the grounds that stretched out beyond the school. Her arms were folded across her chest, her forehead pressed against the cool glass. She didn't seem to notice Harry at all. And if she did, then she was ignoring him. It didn't take a mind reader to see that Ginny wanted to be alone. Her back was straight and stiff, and an unfamiliar coldness washed over Harry like shards of ice--as though that coldness was coming from Ginny, herself, despite the warm fire that lit the common room.

Curiosity came naturally to Harry, and he resented it. Yet there was the need to satisfy the nagging in his brain. It was obvious to him that he had two choices. The first was to go straight to his room, without another backward glance at the red head (which, at this point, seemed to be the preferable choice) or he could stay, and let Ginny make the decision.

He doubled back to where she was standing.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" he asked, standing directly behind her.

Ginny jumped, completely startled. Harry laughed, as Ginny clutched her heart, no doubt convinced that it was going to jump out of her chest.

"Harry!" she hissed, while Harry continued to chortle with laughter.

"Sorry, Ginny. You ...just...the look on your face...priceless," he gasped between his fit of laughter.

Ginny punched him in the arm playfully, a smile teasing the corner of her lips.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"That much was evident," Harry said after calming down enough to make conversation.

Ginny nodded and turned back to her window gazing, suddenly looking solemn.

"Is something the matter? You can tell me, you know," he offered.

Ginny turned her face back to him, a small, wistful smile on her lips. "I know, Harry. I just...don't know. You know?" she asked.

Harry gave her a look that suggested otherwise. The red head giggled and moved towards the sofa and sat down. The roaring fire melted away the coldness Harry had felt coming from her earlier. He followed her to the sofa and sat down as well, watching the dancing flames reflect in her brown orbs. There were lines of worry and apprehension in her face, but also of peace and contentment. An odd combination, Harry reflected, which made everything even more complicated. How was he supposed to react to her?

"Christmas is coming up," Harry reminded her, trying to make light conversation.

"Yeah," sighed Ginny. "Then a whole New Year. What do you think next year will bring, Harry? Will it bring peace, and prosperity? Love and forgiveness? At least...that's what my parents always taught me. Now I'm not so sure," she told him softly.

Silence stretched between the two, while Harry pondered the answer to her question.

"I don't know," he finally said, trying to understand the quiet pain in her voice. "I think it will bring many things, as each New Year does. I can only hope that it will bring all the things that would make our world a better place. For Muggles, wizards, and witches."

Ginny seemed to be pondering this, as she curled her legs beneath her and started to twirl a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly.

Harry smiled. "Do you always do that when you're nervous?" he asked, pointing to her hair-bound finger.

"No," she lied, and wrenched her finger from her hair. "I just have some stuff on my mind."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Harry offered. It was then that he realized that Ginny was deeply troubled. Not the normal teenager angst, but a much deeper, more knowledgeable pain or fear. Harry knew that if Ginny confided in him, he would have to be as strong as possible to deal with what she had to say.

Ginny tilted her head to the side, staring at Harry, as if sizing him up. Was he a worthy confidant? Ginny knew in her heart that if she was going to tell anyone, it was going to be Harry. Not because once upon a time she had fancied him, but because he was Harry. Not because he was famous, or Head Boy, or had the smartest witch in the school for a girl friend, or even because her brother was his best friend. But because Harry was just one of those people. She couldn't put a finger on it, so she took a deep breath, and exhaled very slowly.

"I do want to talk about it, Harry. I'm afraid, though," she said, blinking back burning tears. She was more than just afraid, she was terrified. If she told Harry, she could lose him as one of her closest friends. This was not something she was willing to sacrifice.

"Ginny," Harry said softly, and he took her hand, holding it securely. "I'm here, you know. And whatever you have to say, it won't change my mind about you. About who you are. Do you see? No matter how horrible it might be, I'll always love you for you. I'm here for you, Ginny. Whether you need me now, later, or never. Know that I'll always be here," he promised.

Ginny's heart lifted. This was why she knew she could tell him. He always knew what to say. He knew what real friendship was all about.

"Technically speaking, I feel wonderful. I haven't felt this wonderful in a long time," Ginny began, and slowly, but surely, a smile crept onto her lips, her eyes took on a faraway look.

Realization dawned on Harry.

"Of course!" he cried, and then lowered his voice. "Ginny, you've found him, haven't you?" he said. It was not a question meant to be answered, but she nodded shyly anyway.

"I'm not sure, but I think so," she added quickly.

"That would explain so much. So who's the lucky guy? And why the secrecy?" he asked, and then he knew what it felt like to be Lavender Brown. He had never felt so "gossipy" in all his life.

Ginny grew quiet again, and looked away, but Harry caught the worry and apprehension on her face.

"Ginny..." he said slowly. What could be making her act this way? If she found "the one", shouldn't she be happy? Shouldn't she be blurting out his name every time she had the chance? And even if she wanted to keep it secret, she had practically just told Harry (though he had to guess), so shouldn't she be ecstatic, wanting to tell him every possible detail?

Ginny turned back to him expectantly.

"You haven't worked it out in your mind yet?" she said softly.

The truth was, Harry had. It was just...the thought was so ludicrous--so out there--that he couldn't find it in himself to believe it. His calculations couldn't be right. All of it. All the signs. Ginny defending the Slytherins. Ginny wanting to go to the Ball alone, and disappearing for long periods of time during the Ball.

Draco Malfoy.

This also explained his behaviour. Ginny had been right. The Slytherins were not spying on the Gryffindors during Quidditch practice.

Draco was concentrating solely on Ginny.

Draco wasn't just being moody and solemn; he was watching what he was saying around Harry, his only purpose to stay on Ginny's good side. Come to think of it, Draco had also disappeared for periods of time during the Ball.

Draco and Ginny. Ginny and Draco.

How could this have happened, he wondered. It just didn't make sense. A Malfoy with a Weasley?

He looked at Ginny then, and knew there was no denying it.

Ginny and Draco had been dating in secret.

A shower of questions bombarded him just then, and it took a while for him to make sense of what Ginny wanted to tell him. The stronger, angry, and resentful part of Harry wanted to scream with rage, kick at something that would feel his outburst or fiercely deny that the girl he had always considered his sister could possibly care for someone like...that.

The other part of him, the friend, the brother, and the romantic in him realized that Ginny had just confided in him. In spite of the fact that he and Malfoy were enemies, she chose him, above her closest of friends, to share her deepest secret with. The logical part of him told him that in the near future she would have to tell her family. And only God knew what their reactions would be. Including everyone at school. He knew not all of them would be accepting, and a lot of them would meet Ginny with hostility. She needed him, and trusted him. He'd be damned if he would be the first to betray that trust.

"For how long?" he said aloud, shocked at how calm he sounded.

Ginny's eyes widened, wary and expecting an outburst. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and whispered, "Two months. Since the beginning of school."

Harry sighed, then removed his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, and closed his emerald eyes.

"I told you," hissed Ginny shrilly. Tears were flowing freely from her brown eyes, and she sobbed through her words.

"I didn't want you to know. You more than anyone else. But I knew that you were the only person I could tell. And now, knowing that I'm dating your arch enemy, you hate me." She choked on her outburst, and continued to sob. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm not sorry for being with Draco, I'm sorry for hurting you. If that makes no sense to you, well then I don't think I can clear that up any better. But I'm hoping that someday, you can forgive me," and she stood up in a heated rush.

Forgive. That struck a chord in Harry's memory. Only moments ago she had pondered the gifts that the New Year would bring. He realized that her concern didn't lie with the rest of the world. It rested with Malfoy and herself. He grabbed her hand and forced her back down onto the couch.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said with a quietness that managed to calm Ginny's tears and sobs. Or maybe she had stopped crying because of Harry, as he wrapped his arms around her, wanting to chase away all her demons with his comfort.

"I told you before, and I'll tell you again. Nothing could ever change my mind about you," Harry told her softly. "If this revelation has done anything, it's only made me sure of everything that is good in life. And what a good person you are." He pulled, forcing her to look at him, so she could see that there was no mocking glint in his eye.

New tears threatened to fall and she wiped them away before they could. She sniffled as she looked at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You see something in Draco that not one single person does, even his own friends. You see the goodness in him. Even I don't see that, but knowing you do has given me some hope that maybe he's not as bad as he seems. That's something I've wondered for a very long time, Ginny. And though I can't completely trust or like him, there's a part of me that wants to give him a chance. A small part, but it's there. And maybe with your help... that part can grow."

Ginny's brown eyes widened.

Harry continued. "One thing is for sure. You and Draco won't have to face Ron alone. You have me, and eventually, when the time comes, you'll have Hermione as well."

Fresh tears glossed Ginny's eyes, and this time, she didn't stop them.

"Harry," sobbed the tearful girl. She didn't know what to say. Harry had rendered her completely speechless. "But...Draco...arch enemy..." stuttered Ginny.

"You're more important to me than that. You're my little sister, and I'll protect you with everything I've got. Even against your brothers," he said.

Ginny smiled uncertainly. She didn't know what to say, as her relief and love for Harry washed over her like a warm summer's breeze.

"You're the best friend any one could ever ask for, Harry," she said, standing up again with a timid, yet bright smile on her face.

He stood up with her, ready to retreat to his own room.

"Then you'll be alright?" he wondered.

Ginny beamed, hardly able to contain her excitement.

"I'm 100%!" she exclaimed, her chocolate brown eyes alight with humour.

"Good, now off to bed. I'm exhausted myself," Harry told her, and yawned for great effect.

Ginny placed her hands on her hips, giving Harry the strong impression that he was in the same room with Molly Weasley, and not Ginny.

"Exactly," she inquired, quirking a brow, "what are you doing up so late, mister?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wish I knew. Studying, I expect. Not that it did any good," he added, yawning again.

Ginny laughed, and shook her head in wonderment. "Go to sleep," she ordered, looking more and more like her mother.

"Yes, mother," Harry said with a light laugh, turning to his own set of stairs.

Ginny was already heading up her own steps, when Harry heard her call his name for the final time that night.

"Yeah?" Harry said, poking his head around the bend to look back at her.

Ginny gave an awkward, shy smile.

"Thank you." She then sped up the stairs in a flash, leaving Harry to ponder the ironies of life.

"That was a nice thing you said down there," said Hermione.

Harry looked startled for a moment, and then crossed his room to sit next to his girlfriend on his bed.

"I could tell that you were listening on the stairs. I didn't think you'd come to my room, though. It's late. You should be sleeping," he told her.

"I should say the same for you, Head Boy. What is your purpose for being up so late?" asked Hermione.

"Studying, believe it or not. But I'm never studying this late ever again. I'm exhausted," sighed Harry.

Hermione crawled onto the bed, and positioned herself behind Harry. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and started to rub them in circular motions, kneading his aching muscles. A satisfied groan escaped Harry's mouth, and Hemione giggled.

"All you do is work. You need to relax," she told him.

Harry didn't say any thing, and leaned back, closing his eyes. He even ignored the fact that it was always Hermione who worked more than anyone else did, and that her statement was purely hypocritical. All his muscles and bones seemed to melt under her touch. He felt like a Jell-O mold. Hermione continued to massage him until her fingers ached.

"Thank you, love. I really needed that," Harry said, turning to face her. They sat Indian style on the bed, in front of each other.

"Any time. Now about this Ginny business..."

"I promised her I wouldn't talk about it. I don't want to betray her trust. However, since you've already heard about it..."

Hermione held up a hand to interrupt.

"My intention isn't for you to betray her trust. I just want to tell you that I'm very proud of you. In Ginny's time of need, you haven't hesitated in being there for her. I realized when listening, that you're very much like a young Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione quickly shushed him again.

"There's nothing to deny, Harry. You're far too wise beyond your years. I just want you to know that I love you."

"Oh, Hermione." There were no words now. Harry pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I will always love you," he finally said.

Silence passed, and Harry broke it by saying, "so what brought this on?"

Hermione giggled. "Which part?" she asked.

"Well," Harry said, "it's not every day I find my girlfriend sitting on my bed at two in the morning, on a school night, no less."

Hermione looked at him, all traces of humour disappearing from her serene and gentle looking face.

"It never really occurs to me to tell you just how wonderful you are. A part of me worries that I'll never get to tell you just how much I love you. After hearing your conversation with Ginny, I knew that you needed to know, no matter what. I just couldn't bear it if something happened..."

Harry leapt forward, grabbing her by the shoulders with gentle strength, and forced her to look into his eyes.

"Nothing will ever happen to me. I swear it, Hermione. You have to know that I'm here, and here to stay. You have nothing to worry about," Harry insisted, and pulled her into his arms. She responded to embrace his with equal desperation. He kissed her then, crushing his lips to hers, desperate to make her see the truth in his words. Pulling apart, they both gasped for air, breathless and now speechless.

"OK," she whispered in final agreement, and they stayed silent for a few more minutes in each other's arms, each basking in the other's presence.

"Alright. I should go," she finally said, standing up and facing him, as he sat up on his bed.

"I'd rather you stay," he insisted, pulling her back. Hermione smiled, reaching a free hand to run her fingers through his dark, untidy hair. His radiant green eyes shone back at her, looking earnest.

"Dumbledore would have my head on a silver platter, Harry. It's a big risk," she reminded him.

Harry gave her a sly smile. "A bigger risk than brewing Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" he asked.

Hermione grinned in return. "I said it was a risk, Potter. Remember, it's never stopped me before from acting against the rules."

Harry laughed with her, pulling her back onto the bed.

"Then make yourself comfortable, Miss Granger."

The next morning started off as one of the best mornings Harry had ever woken to. The sun, despite the cold of the November month, was bright and cheery, an unseasonable warmth filled the castle and the grounds. In spite of the glorious morning that Harry was enjoying, he found himself starting off incredibly late for class. This was due to Hermione, who clung to him as he tried to rise up from his bed.

"Just because you have a spare this morning, doesn't mean that I get to lounge around with you," Harry reminded the love of his life.

"Oh come on, Harry. Trelawney won't miss you that much," she insisted, sleepy-eyed. A blissful smile curved her lips, tempting Harry to smother them with his own.

"Now look! Stop doing that, Hermione. I have to go to class," Harry said, pulling himself away.

"You know you don't want to. Just stay," pleaded Hermione.

"Look, I'm late," laughed Harry, wrenching himself away from the bed. "And youare an evil temptress! Stop it! I won't have it!" he cried, flinging himself into his bathroom. Hermione's light giggles followed him as he locked himself in. He looked at his reflection.

"Don't you look happy. I'd know that look anywhere," teased his mirror.

"Don't start. And for your information, we didn't do anything last night. She merely spent the night in my bed."

"In your arms..." added his mirror, delighting in Harry's embarrassment.

"That's none of your business," snapped Harry, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face.

"Ah, young love," sighed his mirror.

"Harry! Hey Harry! Wait Harry!"

Harry stifled an impatient groan, and turned to face Colin Creevey, who was speeding down the hallway.

"I'm going to be late for class, Colin! Can't this wait?" he asked. The corridors were deserted, since the bell had already gone.

Colin acted as though this didn't matter to him, and he finally caught up to Harry.

"I thought you'd like to see these," he said, and whipped out a wad of pictures. Harry frowned, but took the stack anyway, humoring the 6th year photographer.

His scowl soon turned to a look of worry, as he shuffled through each picture. His face drained of all color.

"Harry? You alright?" Colin said, obviously distressed at the prospect of upsetting Harry.

These were not just any ordinary pictures. Each one unmasking the secret relationship between Ginny and Malfoy.

"Where'd you take these?" Harry demanded, not bothering to keep his tone in check.

"The Hallowe'en Ball. I happened to be exiting the bathroom, when I saw Ginny heading towards one of the back corridors. I followed her, and hid myself from view. Then Draco showed up and, well, I just had to get these pictures," Colin explained. He was peering closely at Harry, worried.

Harry continuously flipped through the pictures, amazed more than anything else. Because these pictures didn't just reveal their relationship (which Harry, thank Merlin, already knew about), but it exposed much more than that.

Draco Malfoy had a soft side.

Harry observed the moving pictures, watching as Malfoy undid the clips in Ginny's hair. The next picture revealed Malfoy running a gentle hand through her flaming red hair, his face inches from hers. Another picture showed them sharing a tender kiss, and Harry flipped instantly to the next one, blushing guiltily. The rest of these pictures revealed more of this, and a side to Malfoy that Harry had never seen.

"Are there any other copies of these?" asked Harry to Colin.

"Nope! I was going to make Ginny a set after I showed them to you, though. Aren't they great, Harry? Though, I don't know how I feel about a Gryffindor being with a Slytherin," Colin added as an afterthought.

"But you're sure these are the only pictures? Has anyone else seen them?" asked Harry.

Colin shook his head furiously. "I just got them developed," he answered, looking proud. He then went on, excited that he had Harry's attention and eager to keep it.

"After taking these pictures, I was thinking maybe after Hogwarts I could do this as a career, you know? Taking secret photos for the Daily Prophet, or the Witch Weekly? What do you think, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath and glanced up and down the hallway, feeling rather nervous.

"I think I'm going to have to confiscate these, Colin," he told him.

Colin looked puzzled. "Can't it wait, Harry? I'd really like to get those doubled, if I could," he said.

"Sorry about this, Colin," said Harry. Before Colin could respond, Harry lifted his wand up and pointed it at him. "Obliviate," he called.

Colin blinked and looked at Harry.

"Harry! What are you doing standing around in the halls like this! You'll be late for class!" shouted Colin, panicking immediately.

Harry sighed with relief, tucking away the pictures safely beneath his robes. If anyone was to have them, it should be Ginny.

Harry found his class, and saw that he was indeed late. Everyone looked up as he pushed the trapdoor open, and his head popped up in the classroom.

"Have a seat, Mr Potter. Knowing you would be late, I took the liberty of holding off the lesson until you arrived," came Professor Trelawney's misty voice.

Harry did as told, rolling his eyes over at Ron. Ron hid a smile by tucking his face into his shoulder.

"Thanks, Professor," said Harry, avoiding the urge to look at Malfoy as he took his seat next to Ron.

"Now, class," Trelawney began. "Today we will broaden our horizons by taking a step forward in what is called Smoke Divination. This is merely another form of crystal gazing, but far more useful in case you do not have access to a crystal ball. There are many ways to use this advanced fashion of unleashing your Inner Eye, and I warn you, it is far more dangerous, and in many ways, more mysterious than any form you have previously used," Trelawney explained.

The class exchanged many excited glances, eager to begin today's lesson.

Trelawney started to pass out small copper bowls, about the size of an ashtray, while explaining how Smoke Divination worked.

"I've already given out small portions of the incense you are to use, in order to start your flame. A simple flame-inducer will work just fine. Now, I insist that you don't sit too close to the smoke, and don't lean into it. However, I have Madam Pomfrey on standby. I made her aware that I am teaching you the beginnings of this unit, and yes, Miss Patil, it's that dangerous."

Harry glanced at Parvati and noticed how her mouth was hanging slightly open, about to say something. She closed her mouth, and gave Trelawney the look of utter respect. Across the room, Neville Longbottom gave a tiny squeak. Copper bowls were placed in front of Harry and Ron, and they exchanged looks of bewilderment.

"Let's get this over with," said Harry, with a bitter glance at Trelawney's retreating back. They both pulled out their wands, and pointed them at their incense-filled bowls.

"Incendio!" they cried, and a burst of light shot out of their wands, igniting the incense.

All around the room people duplicated Harry and Ron, and soon smoke lifted out of each copper bowl. Across the room Harry could see Lavender Brown helping Neville with his own bowl.

It didn't take long for the room to take the appropriate scent of perfumed smoke, and after a few minutes of staring blankly into his smoke, Harry started to feel light-headed. His vision became blurry, then un-blurry, then back to blurry. The room seemed to disappear around him. Mutterings of his classmates faded into the thick gray-black smoke that swam in front of him. The smoke itself swirled in front of him, until it reached a circular shape, leaving a clear surface of air for him to look into. It reminded him vaguely of a muggle television set.

He reasoned that his reactions to Smoke Divination was due to lack of sleep. How he longed to fold his arms on the table and rest his sleepy head. But, he firmly reminded himself, he was Head Boy, and (with a groan) it was his duty to set the proper example. Taking naps during a new lesson didn't qualify.

He reluctantly turned his tired eyes to the Smoke again. What was he supposed to be looking for? He lifted his head to Ron, raising a skeptical brow. Ron shrugged in return.

Heaving an impatient sigh, Harry focused on his Smoke, once again, in frustration.

Then something started to take shape. He felt so sleepy he couldn't be sure if he was dreaming or not, but then he realized that it wasn't something that was appearing in his smoke, but someone. In fact, many someone's. Harry's vision became clear once more, and he leaned a little forward, carefully heeding Trelawney's advice. He squinted his eyes. The faces that became clearer were gaunt and pale, their lips curled into twisted smiles, their eyes dark and piercing. Harry observed their style of old-fashioned clothing, and upon looking closer, he realized that they were not normal "Muggle" clothes, they were old-fashioned robes. Harry was staring into the faces of old Witches and Wizards. How old? He couldn't tell.

Their mouths opened then, and they let out a loud, deafening moan that made Harry's insides twist in agony. His chest closed in on his already fiercely pounding heart. He tried to breathe, but each breath for him was nothing but intense pain. The people in the vision slowly melted away, but Harry could still hear their desperate moans echoing in his pounding head.

"Oh dear."

Harry didn't have to look up to see that Professor Trelawney was peering into his own vision, and he didn't dare peel his eyes away from what he was seeing, no matter how terrified he was.

"Cursed souls screaming on the longest night," Trelawney announced in a fluttery voice. Her face was pale, and her magnified eyes were wide.

The vision became clearer once more, and Harry could see the shape of one man, but what nearly threw him into a panic was how the man was standing. He wasn't standing at all, but he seemed to be floating while standing. No, Harry corrected himself. This man wasn't floating, he was dangling! Sure enough, Harry could see a noose wrapped securely around the man's neck. A tall, lanky object appeared beside the dead wizard, so blurry that Harry couldn't even guess as to what it was. Before he could get a closer look, the object exploded, throwing Harry back with a shock. His copper bowl spun at a rapid pace, faster and faster, until it was nothing but a mere blur, then flew across the room, over the heads of students, and it smashed through the glass window.

The entire class sat in stunned silence, staring at Harry with a mixture of wonderment and fear. Trelawney's eyes were wide and fearful, and she stood clutching her heart, looking as though someone had just died.

After a few minutes, the shock of the recent events passed. Parvati and Lavender rushed over to Trelawney and sat her down in a chair. Harry looked at Ron, and saw that Ron looked exactly how Harry felt. His face was pale, even his lips had lost their color. His blue eyes were wide and fearful.

"What did you see?" he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Harry swallowed down a nervous lump. His classmates seemed to have lost interest in Trelawney's proclamation, as they turned back to their Smoke Divination.

Harry spoke in a low voice, explaining exactly what he had seen. Sure enough, Ron's reaction doubled. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Behind Harry, Ron could see Malfoy take a sudden interest in what Harry had to say, but there was no self-satisfying grin. He wore an all-knowing frown.

"We'll talk after class, Harry," Ron told him.

It seemed that the end of class was going to be sooner than expected. After Trelawney's newest prediction, she decided that she needed to spend some time alone, and focus her Inner Eye on the Dark forces. She left the classroom after fixing the window, leaving the students to pack up their books and leave after her.

"Dark forces. Yeah, right," muttered Ron, but he didn't look as sure as he sounded.

Harry stood up with Ron, when someone called out his name.

They turned to find Draco Malfoy standing completely alone. The entire classroom was empty. The only ones left were Harry, Ron and Malfoy.

"It doesn't take a mind-reader to know what you saw in your vision, Potter," Malfoy said, as calmly as possible. Harry knew he was only using this tone because he was trying to remain on Harry's good side. But Malfoy didn't know that Harry knew of him and Ginny. Did this give Harry the upper hand? He couldn't decide.

"What do you know of it then?" asked Harry, a little colder than intended. Ron continued to stare at Malfoy with a loathing that had built over the years.

"I know enough. And if you're smart, you'll heed my advice. Don't ignore the signs, Potter. They've come to you for a reason. If you belittle them, there will be a world of trouble."

The cold chill Harry had felt while looking into his vision returned. But he didn't dare show it.

"I'll take that into consideration, Malfoy," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Malfoy's icy gray ones.

"Get off it, Harry!" Ron burst out. "You're not going to believe what he has to say, are you?"

Malfoy broke the staring contest, and turned his eyes to Ron for the first time.

"It's a shame you feel that way, Weasley," he drawled. There was no menace in his voice, but Harry could detect a certain feeling of dislike coming from Malfoy. This was no surprise to him. He assumed that it was enough that Malfoy had to be nice to him, let alone to two of his archenemies.

"You've given Harry plenty of reasons to not trust you. Give us two good reasons why he should give your words any thought at all," retorted Ron.

"I could give you a book full, Weasley. But I thought that we are all a little too old to be playing these games. Let's act our age" he suggested, a little too condescendingly for Harry's liking.

"Hmmph," muttered Ron. "I'm not the only one who remembers clearly what your more charming qualities are, Malfoy. Perhaps you're simply trying to get Harry into trouble, or even worse, killed. It's not going to work, Malfoy. Harry isn't stupid."

"If he doesn't listen to what I have to say," Malfoy replied coolly, "my more charming qualities will be the least of your worries."

"I'm still in the room, and I can speak for myself," Harry said, interrupting Malfoy and Ron's exchange. "I promised to consider it. I believe that's enough for now," Harry said.

Malfoy seemed satisfied with this. He grabbed up his bag, and left the classroom through the trapdoor.

"That was entirely creepy," Ron mumbled.

"You have no idea," Harry said, thinking of Ginny, Malfoy, and the pictures that lay hidden in his robes. He followed Ron out of the classroom.


To Be Continued...

Chapter 9: Confessions of the Heart
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: fae_child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, D/G and others on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Snow is on the ground, and the students are thrilled for the nearing of the Holidays. However, Harry has become more concerned with Draco Malfoy's intentions, and finds that in order to look for the truth in his heart, he has to look deep into his own as well.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: To Gary Skinner, again for his undying support, his wonderful "touch-up" ideas on the story as a whole, and for his friendship. Also to Occamy (a.k.a Leah), for letting me borrow her name, and for giving me her support before I post. Luv ya, doll. And finally to the reviewers, just for being there. Thanks, guys!

Author's Note: Expect an update pretty much every day until Wednesday--because that's when I go back to work (these three days are my days off, which is why I'm able to post quickly). Enjoy!

Dedicated to Willis, Oliver, Luka, Shadow and Scooter, for keeping me company

By December, a descending chill floated over the Hogwarts castle, reminding every last student that Christmas was well on its way, and so were end-of-term exams. Over the bubble of excitement that usually came during this time of the year, conversations of Hogsmeade and returning home for the holidays could be heard all over the castle.

These events, these conversations were at the very bottom of Hermione's list, as far as worries were concerned. Presently, she was more concerned with her boyfriend, or rather, more concerned for herself, considering the circumstances.

"Harry! Will you please tell me what is going on?!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry was slowly leading forward a few feet at a time, while standing directly behind her, his hands covering her eyes, obscuring her view completely.

He gave a light chuckle. "Trust me," he told her for the hundredth time.

Her body relaxed ever so slightly, and Harry continued to direct her in her blindfolded state.

Hermione took deep breaths and concentrated. She did trust Harry, and consciously knew that Harry would never deliberately put her in danger. She also knew the school as well as anyone else, maybe even better, considering her wild history with breaking rules, and roaming the halls after hours throughout all the years with Ron and Harry. So she used this assured knowledge to trace where he was planning to take her.

A few moments ago Harry had urgently steered her from the Gryffindor common room, "blindfolded" her and began to lead her down a seemingly deserted corridor. They had turned left and headed down another corridor, this one not so long.

Now he was leading her down a series of staircases. She waited for that to end, and then realized that they were on the main floor.

"We're almost there," she heard Harry whisper from behind her.

She nodded as best as she could, desperately trying to calm her thumping heart, and waited for Harry's surprise to unfold. According to Hermione's swift mind, they were in the Entrance Hall. She could hear voices echoing from the Great Hall. Harry whispered an incantation and a burst of light flooded the hall. Even Hermione could see the bright light, seeping through Harry's fingers.

A sudden chill overwhelmed her, and she automatically wrapped her arms around herself. They just had to be outside. That's where the burst of light must have come from, she thought.

"OK," Harry said to her, and released his hold on her.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and took in the sight before her. She giggled with delight, taking in the spectacular view.

"Oh, Harry!"

It was white. Everywhere. Snow covered the grounds, the forest; and looking behind her, Hermione observed that Hogwarts was covered, too. Hagrid's hut looked like a gingerbread house in the distance, covered in a thick sheet of icing sugar. Hermione was vividly reminded of Heaven on earth.

"It's amazing!" she squealed, tossing her arms about Harry and hugging him with amazing strength.

Harry laughed, returning the embrace, and suddenly Ginny, Ron and Leah stepped into the Hall, as if waiting for a cue from Harry.

"You'll need these, hon," Ginny said, holding out Hermione's winter cloak, scarf, and mittens.

The others were all swathed in their own winter clothes. Ron handed Harry his own winter clothes.

"Come on! We haven't got all day!" Ron said with mock exasperation.

Hermione laughed and slipped on her winter cloak, shaking with excitement. Her outfit complete, they all headed outside and found that many other students were taking advantage of this glorious winter day. Some were creating snow angels, others were building snowmen, and Hermione could swear that she just saw a bewitched snowball hurtling across the grounds towards an unsuspecting 4th year.

As Head Girl she would normally have to punish the poor soul who found it in his heart to misuse his or her magical knowledge. But Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to do so. This was the first snowfall of the year, after all.

"I'm so pathetic!" Hermione exclaimed, with a slight pout. "I always miss the first snowfall."

Harry laughed and hugged her close.

"You're not lame. You just study a lot. There's no shame in that. And besides, it's not like you're missing out on the snow. We'll make sure of that," Harry assured her, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Exactly what do you mean by that?" Hermione wondered. There was a slight giggle from behind her, and Hermione sensed, rather than heard, a snowball being whipped at her.

She dodged just in time and the snowball sailed past her, instead hitting poor Seamus, who was lazily constructing a snowball of his own to hurl at Dean. He spun around sharply, seeking the perpetrator. His steely gaze focused on Hermione and Harry, and a slow grin crept along his face.

"WAR!" he shouted.

The five Gryffindors, soaked, out of breath, laughing and freezing, headed up to their common room hours later, eager to divest themselves of their outer wear. They all changed into comfortable clothes and then gathered in front of the roaring, inviting fire, their sole purpose to warm themselves up.

Hermione sat with Leah and Ginny, teaching them how to use a Drying Charm on their hair. Harry and Ron talked in low voices about the upcoming holidays, which put a smile on everyone's face. Everyone except...

"Hey, Leah!" Ginny exclaimed, as though just dawning on a thought. "What are you doing for Christmas?" she asked.

All eyes zoomed on the usually perky brunette, who now looked like she wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and live there forever.

"Staying here, at Hogwarts," she told them, avoiding their sympathetic looks. She began to concentrate on a piece of fluff from her sweater.

"Here!?" Ginny gasped, absently pulling her hair into a long ponytail. "Why?"

"Well..." Leah said slowly, "My parents are visiting my grandmother for the holidays, and well, personally, I don't really like her." She fidgeted a little, as though uncomfortable with the subject.

She looked at them then, a determined glint in her eye.

"I don't mind, honest. I love Hogwarts."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment of the fact, not sure what to say, but knowing that he at least agreed with her. From day one he had always considered Hogwarts his home. He couldn't so easily forget the longing he had felt for the school, when he spent he summers with the Durselys.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ginny said, looking at Leah in a new light. "You should come home with us," she told her.

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks, surprised by Ginny's boldness.

"Mum would just love to have you. And Harry and Siri...er...Professor Black... live right across the road from us! And our brothers are coming home, you can meet them, too! And Hermione will be coming to stay with Harry. Please say yes," Ginny pleaded.

"Your parents don't mind that you're staying with Harry...with little to none parental units?" Leah asked with a sly grin.

Hermione waved a hand in dismissal. "They trust me," she said, with a knowing glance in Harry's direction.

Harry smiled in return, and discreetly turned his head away before his friends could start badgering him.

Leah gave a nervous laugh, and Harry sensed that more than anything she wanted to accept Ginny's proposal. But then Leah glanced at Ron, who at this point looked completely out of the zone. His blue eyes were focused intently on the glowing fireplace.

Ginny caught this as well, and nudged her brother as discreetly as possible.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"You'd like her to be there, wouldn't you, Ron?" asked Ginny.

Harry had to hold in a laugh as he witnessed his best friend's face turn from his usual freckled, to a bright, beet red.

"Sure I would!" he insisted, blushing even deeper now. "It'll be great, having everyone together. Come home with us, Leah," he said, his face returning to its normal color, his bravery turning up a notch.

Leah looked from one face to the next, seeking encouragement. Finally, she turned to Ginny and Ron and nodded enthusiastically.

"Exactly where do you think you're going?"

Harry paused in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and turned towards the sofa where the voice addressing him came from.

Hermione's head popped up and she propped her knees onto the sofa so she could face him properly.

"Hey," he greeted softly, stepping towards her.

"Hey, yourself. Going outside?" she asked, her brows creased in curiosity.

Harry looked down at his left arm, which carried his winter cloak. Then he looked outside, then back at Hermione with extreme longing.

"I'd give anything to be here, with you, in front of that glorious fire, love," he said, and then heaved a depressed sigh. "But I have something I need to take care of first."

Hermione looked like she wanted to ask what, or why, but she didn't say anything in regards to his late night excursion. It was as though she understood his reasons, whatever they were, and she was confident that he would explain everything to her later.

Harry stepped closer to her and ran a hand through her soft, chestnut hair. She smiled and reached her own hand up, lacing her fingers through his.

"I'll be here when you get back," she told him. "Just don't be too long."

He nodded and kissed her warmly, tasting strawberries and whipped cream.

Then he shrugged on his cloak and made his way from the common room, to the Entrance Hall, then he pushed through the wide oak doors and made his way through the snow that crunched softly beneath his feet.

It wasn't extremely late, so there was no need for Harry to bring his Invisibility Cloak, and the fact that he was Head Boy gave him some leeway, so if a Professor ever spotted him, he wasn't obligated to explain his whereabouts to them. More often than not, he just told them he was scouring the perimeter for students who shouldn't be lurking about. It worked like a charm every time.

Turning a sharp left around the bend of the castle, Harry saw a dark figure emerged from the creepy shadows.

How fitting, thought Harry cynically. He took a deep breath and exhaled softly.

"I'm here, just as I promised," he said, as Draco Malfoy's face became visible under the light of the moon.

"I'm surprised," Malfoy said, bringing himself closer, in turn making Harry edgier. "And I don't surprise easily," he added.

"I hope there's a good reason why I'm here, in the cold, when I could be inside," Harry answered indifferently.

"Let's walk," Malfoy simply suggested, moving past him. He strode a few steps, and Harry decided that moving under the minor moonlight was better than lurking in the shadows. Shoving his hands deep into his cloak pockets, he took step beside the Slytherin.

"Have you taken my advice?" Malfoy asked with a suddenness that multiplied Harry's uneasiness.

Harry delved deep into his own mind, trying to find the words that wouldn't startle Malfoy, and at the same time wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction of knowing that he had caused some worry in him.

"There has been very little to worry about, Malfoy. How do you expect me to accept your advice when you won't even tell me what the hell the predictions mean?"

Not good, Harry thought, knowing that his voice betrayed some of his deepest concerns.

Apparently Malfoy sensed it too.

"I can't tell you, Potter. I don't know anything about them either. But they've been sent to you for a reason."

"What reason?" Harry asked, straining for patience.

Malfoy paused, and looked Harry straight in the eyes, not unkindly and not with scorn, but with a look of desperation. Desperation for what? For Harry to accept him? For Harry to believe him?

"Maybe it's because of who you are..." he replied, trailing off for dramatic effect.

Harry shivered against the chill that swept over him, wondering if the cold was due to the December weather, or due to Malfoy's implications.

"They're stupid predictions," Harry insisted, wanting nothing more than to believe his own words. "They're not even predictions...they're just the aftermath of a bad night's sleep."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy chuckled softly as he shook his head.

"Do you really believe that, Potter?" he asked, as a smile slowly crept along his face.

Harry felt as though his mind was crashing. Lately, more and more, he found it difficult to decide what he believed, and whether he still believed in what he always thought he had. Was this a part of growing up? Of maturing?

Draco Malfoy had been his enemy since their first day at Hogwarts. Harry found that it wasn't as easy as he anticipated, trying to look at Malfoy in a new light. Even if it was for Ginny. The old Malfoy, the new Draco, they would always be the same person.

So maybe it was that reason alone that made him resist the nagging in his gut, in his mind, in his heart, and give in to the Malfoy that stood before him. Could he really accept the fact that Malfoy wanted to help him? Was he trying to redeem himself for all those rotten years that now lay behind them?

Because, in truth, Harry feared over the predictions. What could they mean? And how would they play out? These predictions were far too sinister for even Harry to ignore, which at this point, would be the preferable choice.

In short, Malfoy wanted to help, and in short, Harry realized that he would probably need his help, regardless of the past. Harry would need to get past all the anger and hate he had once felt towards Malfoy if, in fact, Malfoy was there to help.

This is some trick, Harry thought wildly, searching for any excuse to turn Malfoy away. A depressing, ironic trick.

"Well?" Malfoy pressed.

Harry looked at him, not having to look down or up, because they were generally the same height.

"I don't know what to believe," Harry told him, deciding that the truth was better than anything else.

"It's a start. My question now is, can you trust me?"

Harry laughed in spite of himself. Trust a Malfoy? There had been a day when he wouldn't trust a Malfoy if his life depended on it. Now...

Now the closest thing he had to a sister was Ginny Weasley, and now Ginny was dating Draco Malfoy. The tables had turned on Harry, and he realized that this wasn't just a test on what kind of a Wizard he would turn out to be, but what kind of man he would turn out to be.

"Trust is a funny thing, Malfoy. For you, it's something you'll have to earn," Harry told him, silently praying he was doing the right thing.

"I suppose it's a lot better than where I used to stand," Malfoy replied. "And I suppose I have Ginny to thank for that."

Harry's head snapped sharply at that.

"What? You mean...you...knew? You know that I know?"

"It was my suggestion that she tell you, Potter," Malfoy said, and heaved a soft sigh. "Ginny's unhappy," he told him.

Harry frowned, but realized that Malfoy needed to say what he had been holding in for a while.

"She hates keeping our relationship a secret. So do I, for that matter, but she cares about her family..."

"Whereas you don't care for your own?" asked Harry, a little too sharply.

Malfoy focused his gray eyes on Harry, and for the first time ever, Harry actually felt...sad for him. He shook himself, firmly reminding himself not to feel sorry for a Malfoy.

"My parents never cared about me," he replied shortly. "Not the way Ginny's family cares about her. She feels like she's betraying them, betraying her friends, betraying you. It's been eating away at her. I want nothing more than to take away her pain. I want to make her happy, Harry. I want her to want to be with me with no regrets, do you see?"

Harry started, slightly in awe, but mostly in bewilderment. Malfoy had just referred to him as Harry. Was that just a slip up? Or was this Malfoy's way of...keeping the peace?

He returned his thoughts to the topic on hand, and thought back to the night when Ginny had confessed about her and Draco. Happy? Hell, he had never seen her so happy in all his life.

"She is happy. And she loves you, and she's doing what she feels is necessary. Just as you are," Harry told him. "But what do you mean, it was your suggestion?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You're as close to Ginny as any of her brothers. The difference is you're not her brother, not by blood, anyway. She needed someone she could tell, confide in, without the fear of losing everyone that she loves. You...you're different, Potter. You care about her, and see things from perspectives that her family and close friends would never be able to. Understand?" Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded, comprehending. It made perfect sense for Ginny to confide in him, but what didn't make sense was-

"Why did you suggest me, Malfoy? Tell me the truth," Harry said.

An odd smile tugged at the corners of Malfoy's mouth, and he nodded.

"My selfish motive...you're smarter than you let on," he said and laughed softly. "I want you to trust me. I..." Malfoy hesitated, unsure of how to approach him with what he wanted to say.

"I love Ginny," Malfoy insisted in a tone that threw Harry off. "More than I ever thought possible, more than anyone will ever know. Her fiery nature, her desire to make everyone around her happy, her "take nothing from anyone" approach. She's everything in a girl I hadn't realized I wanted. And now I want to be a better person for her, a person she can walk around proudly with. A person that she can bring to her family reunions, where, no doubt, you will be. I want her to see that I can ditch the past, and past feelings, and past enemies. I want her to love me as much as I love her."

Harry felt like he had just been hit with the Stunning Curse. He felt moved by Malfoy's words, touched, and he felt a warmth towards him, mainly because a part of him realized that Ginny was in good hands.

Maybe Malfoy deserved a chance after all, Harry pondered shortly. For Ginny's sake?

"These belong to you," Harry said, reaching into his robes, searching.

He pulled out Colin's pictures and handed them over to Malfoy, who looked at him with furrowed brows.

"They're yours. Yours and Ginny's. You ought to be more careful," Harry warned him, nodding to the pictures.

Malfoy looked down at the small stack and began flipping through all the photographs that Harry had come across weeks beforehand.

"I know you love her," Harry continued. "Anyone with two eyes can plainly see that. I know she loves you, too. I think...I think she wanted to tell me because of Hermione and me. A part of her knows that I would understand, because I'm in love, too."

Malfoy gave a smile that was reminiscent of the ones in the photographs, and Harry was left wondering which Malfoy was the more arrogant; the rival of the past, or the friend of the future?

Time will tell, Harry thought, and Malfoy's true colors will surely shine through.

There were still a few nights left before the holidays, and the atmosphere of the castle was welcoming, if not warming. Christmas was, without a doubt, Harry's favorite holiday. He remembered a time, long ago, when he didn't have a single favorite day. Living with the Dursleys did that to a person.

Night had settled, and the castle was silent, yet buzzing with that same yearning and excitement of holidays to come. Harry, restless, pulled himself from his room to check up on the students.

Hermione had told him earlier that she would be in the library checking up on information that she would need for her report for the next term. Harry chuckled softly. Hermione, however different she may be now from the day he met her, would always be the same bookworm he had grown to love. And he had to remind himself that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey, Harry!" Kevin, his Quidditch teammate, greeted as Harry made his way to the common room.

"Oh, hey, Kevin. Have you seen Ron anywhere?" Harry asked him.

"Oh sure," replied the 5th year Gryffindor. "I just saw him heading outside."

Harry nodded his thanks and made his way outside to find the youngest male of the Weasleys.

He marched his way through the snow, shivering only slightly because he hadn't brought any outside-wear. He wouldn't be able to stay out very long.

He saw Ron then, at the Quidditch Pitch, flying on his broom.

"Late night practice?" Harry wondered. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Ron wasn't alone. Leah York sat in front of Ron on the broom, nuzzled securely in his arms. They both seemed completely oblivious to Harry. They were very high up, and still at a great distance. But Harry could see them plain as day.

He felt guilty watching such a display of affection, but more than guilty, he felt a tugging at his heart that had nothing to do with guilt or embarrassment.

Harry loved Hermione so much it hurt sometimes. He loved everything about her. He loved every aspect of their relationship, friendship, their past and their present, and God willing, their future. But still, after all of that, Harry could still feel a little envious. Not resentful, not jealous, just...envious. And not enough envy to actually affect him. But it was enough to keep him glued to his spot, and watch Ron as he nuzzled Leah even closer.

Hermione would never get on a broom with him if her life depended on it.

Well, Harry thought, maybe if her life depended on it, he corrected himself.

Flying was such a major part of his life. Sometimes he felt like he was born to do it. It hurt to think that he couldn't even share such an exciting part of his life with the woman that he knew he was destined to be with. She would never know what it was like. She would never care to know, and that hurt more than anything.

Still, he couldn't hold it against her. She had a fear of flying. That wasn't her fault, it wasn't his fault. It was just another cruel, ironic twist to his life. He and Hermione had plenty of other stuff to do, right? Who needed flying...right?

Harry looked back up at Ron and Leah, yearning tugging at his heart, knowing that he would never hold Hermione on a broom, just as Ron was holding Leah.

"I hope you know just how lucky you are," Harry breathed upwards. He turned and headed back to the Castle, wanting nothing more at that moment than to see Hermione, and tell her just how much he loved her.

"You're freezing," Hermione gushed, bombarding Harry midway to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry laughed, hugging Hermione closer. "Then warm me up, silly," he purred into her ear.

Hermione laughed with him, giving him a teasing wink.

"What do you think we'll be doing during the holidays? Silly..." she said.

Harry's laugh increased. "Oh, so that's how it is..."

"Yes, that's exactly how it is. Come on, we'll get you upstairs and in bed," she told him urgently.

"I thought we were waiting until we got home," Harry said, with a grin that melted Hermione to the core.

She slapped him playfully.

"You're going to bed. I'm going to tuck you in, got it?"

Harry gave her a disappointed pout, and she laughed again.

They made their way through the portrait hole, and found that there were a few students scattered all around, still edgy over the end-of-term exams, and desperately excited for the holidays to begin.

Without a word to the students, Hermione led Harry up to his private chamber, closing the door behind them. Muttering a lazy "Incendio," Hermione directed Harry further into his room as the lamps flickered to life.

Without hesitating, Hermione rushed into Harry's arms and hugged him with all the strength she possessed. In the dim lighting, her lips found his and they remained that way for a while.

"I can not wait until we get home," Hermione panted, pulling away slightly.

Harry nodded in agreement. It had been months since summer, the last time they were able to make love.

"Crawl into bed with me," urged Harry, pulling down the covers.

Hermione grinned and nodded, jumping into the bed with him. Once they were tucked in, Harry wrapped her spoon fashion, her back facing his front, her legs curled neatly into his, his powerful arms wrapped around her front.

They lay there for a time, concentrating on the silence of the room, broken only by their own steady heartbeats.

"You seem distracted," Hermione said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry thought back to the Quidditch Pitch, Ron with Leah, and shook himself of the image.

"I'm fine. How about you?" he asked.

Hermione sounded like she didn't want to let the topic go, but knew that if it were serious, he would tell her.

"I'm great," she replied.

Silence fell again, and for a while they both reveled in it. Then Hermione spoke again, this time a little more tentatively.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?" Harry opened his eyes, only to find that he was staring at the back of Hermione's head, and instead tightened his hold on her a little, a light squeeze to show that he was listening.

"What's your goal in life?" she asked him.

Harry's grip lessened, and Hermione turned slowly to face him.

"My goal?" he asked, and felt his face growing hot. He hoped that Hermione wouldn't notice his face growing red, even in the dimness of the room.

"Yeah, your goal. Your biggest accomplishment. What do you want to be in the future?" she elaborated, not taking notice of Harry's embarrassment.

Harry stared at her, not sure what to tell her, not even sure what happened to his voice. He felt his throat constricting, felt his heart hit rock bottom. His hands were suddenly clammy, and he wondered why he was reacting this way.

Instead of answering her straight away, he stood up, out of his bed, and started pacing the room like an expectant father.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, suddenly concerned. She had never seen him act this way.

Then Hermione realized that she had asked a question that was deeply personal. But she loved him, and he loved her, so there should be no need for the secrecy.

Either way, she couldn't take back the question, so she just waited for him to answer her.

"Harry?" she asked again. She stood up and went to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and forced him to look into her eyes.

"You can tell me. I won't laugh," she promised.

Laugh? Harry shuddered involuntarily, praying that laughing was the last thing Hermione would do.

But could he tell her?

Yes, because he loved her. She loved him, too. Love makes the world go round, Harry reminded himself. Love.

"I...I want to..."

He sounded like a child. But Hermione was looking at him with wide brown eyes, urging him to tell her. In the end, she would understand. She always did.

"I want to be a father," he blurted out.

Hermione's mouth dropped, and he instantly regretted telling her. But there was no turning back. Now it was his turn to wait for her.

Hermione's head whirled at a fantastic speed. A father! She had never expected that, never in a million years!

Harry Potter was destined for greatness, everyone knew that. She had expected his answer to be a simple one. Like an Auror or something. But a father...

She felt the heat rising to her face, her eyes burning with the coming of tears. She suddenly felt like the Grinch who stole Christmas. She could feel her heart multiply three times its size, ready to burst with the amount of love that she felt for the man in front of her.

The love overwhelmed her, warming her like a cup of hot chocolate.

The tears fell, and Harry looked at her with that puzzled look pasted to his face.

"A father, Harry?" she whispered, and wiped foolishly away at the tears, which only caused more to fall. She started to sob, and Harry reacted instantly, pulling her into the comfort of his arms.

He sighed, and felt no reason to lie, or to take it all back.

"Yes," he whispered back, "a father," he repeated. "The kind of father my dad could have been...should have been..."

He found it odd that he had never told her that before. Why not? They had been best friends for ages. Why couldn't he have told her such a secret years ago? He had always dreamed one day of being the father that his Uncle never was to him. He wanted to be every thing that was denied to him. A real, loving parent.

Hermione was shaking in his arms, sobs wracking her body, until finally, there was nothing more than a mere hiccup coming from her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her worriedly, wondering what he had said that had made her react this way.

"I'm OK," she told him, and smiled to reassure him.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Don't take it back, please, don't take it back," she pleaded, her eyes growing moist again.

"Take what back?" he asked her.

"You wanting to be a father...I don't want you to take back that statement...because..."

"Because?" Harry pressed.

"I've always wanted a family, Harry," Hermione confessed, her heart swelling. "It's always been a part of my dream to have a large family."

This time Harry's mouth dropped.

"I've always been an only child, and...I take a look at the Weasleys and I feel so...envious towards them, you know? I mean, not towards them, but towards the idea of such a large family. They'll always have each other, and me? I love my parents, that's true. But it was so lonely growing up, and I don't want that for my children," Hermione told him.

Harry's heart burst with happiness. He lifted her into his arms and swung her around the room, feeling he had to expose his happiness somehow. She giggled loudly in response, holding fast to him. He set her down, and planted a kiss on her lips.

"I've always wanted a large family. And for the same reasons. Oh, I love you, Hermione. I love you so much," he said, kissing her deeply.

Hermione giggled and sobbed into the kiss, and they withdrew, looking at each other, not shyly anymore, but with a love that had multiplied tenfold.

The future was a touchy subject, they both knew, for muggles and wizards. A couple in love discussing the future was tough because there was no certainty that the other party would have the same outlook, or the same vision for the future.

But when Harry looked at Hermione, and saw her looking at him, he knew, deep in his heart, that the promise of their future would be the ties that bonded their love forever.


To Be Continued...

Author's Note: Next time on 'Circle's Close'... Harry and his friends go home for the holidays. Will Ron and Leah become an official couple--or will Gred and Feorge manage to scare her off? And will Ginny lose her nerve and tell her family about Draco? Tune in to find out.

Chapter 10: A Gift From Harry
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: fae_child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Part one of the Christmas chapters: The entire crew head back to the Burrow for the Holidays. Harry and Hermione discuss the many things that they are planning for Christmas, while having a private celebration of their own.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks to: Gary Skinner, for his speedy Beta-work, his fantastic ideas and in-put, and for being a friend on those miserable days when I need one. And to the readers/reviewers still reading: Thanks.

"I'm a Dumbledore/McGonagall shipper, myself." ~My 17 year-old brother, on Harry/Hermione stories.

It was a frenzy at the Hogsmeade Train Station, where the majority of Hogwarts students were busy finding their compartments and piling their trunks into the train.

Harry was no exception to this at all, as he stood in front of the bright red steam engine, the Hogwarts Express. He felt a warm tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that had started a week beforehand. For the first time ever, he would be leaving Hogwarts for the Christmas Holidays, just like everyone else. He wasn't getting left behind this time, and he found it extremely difficult not to jump for joy when this thought crossed his mind.

But then sadness would wash over him for a moment, and he found himself wishing that he wasn't leaving at all.

"You'll see me Christmas Day," Sirius Black assured his godson for the hundredth time.

"I really don't want to leave you," Harry said, deeply torn between the joy of going home for Christmas, and the guilt of leaving his godfather behind.

"It's only one week until you'll see me again. You'll have a great time with the Weasleys, and you've got Hermione," Sirius reminded him.

At the moment, Hermione was in the Express with the Weasleys, finding their own compartment.

"I know," said Harry, smiling suddenly. "It's just my first Christmas away, and you won't even be there," Harry replied.

"But I will be there," Sirius told him, sighing with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "In a week. Christmas Day. And don't get into any trouble. Please," Sirius pleaded, with a knowing smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Who, me?" he asked innocently, laughing with Sirius.

"What's so funny?" asked Hermione, appearing at Harry's elbow. She latched onto it firmly, a gentle reminder that the Express was getting ready to depart.

"Nothing," Harry assured her. He turned back to Sirius. "The house'll be ready for when you arrive," he told him.

"You've got the key?" Sirius asked.

Harry held up the silver house key and nodded, then tucked it back into his cloak.

"Take care, Sirius," Harry said, giving his godfather a warm embrace.

"Same goes for you both," Sirius said, after wrapping Hermione in a hug.

"We'll see you on Christmas Day, around breakfast?" Hermione asked, pulling away.

"That seems to be the plan," Sirius said, and Harry shot him a threatening look.

"Don't you dare think for one second that I won't use one of the Unforgivable Curses on you if you don't show up," Hary said, which made Sirius laugh.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world. This is my first real Christmas, too, remember?" he told them.

Harry's expression softened slightly as he realized that this Christmas meant a lot to him as well.

"We'd better go," Hermione said, nodding towards the train where Ron, Leah and Ginny were calling for them to hurry.

"Have a good one, Sirius," Hermione said casually, giving him a kiss on the cheek and in turn avoiding the jealous, seething looks of the other girls boarding the Express.

Harry smirked, taking notice of this. It hadn't taken very long for the female students of Hogwarts to grow rather fond of Sirius Black. Hermione had been right in saying that his godfather still had his looks. He supposed the girls were also attracted to Sirius' dark and deeply mysterious nature.

Sirius nodded to them both, and they turned, heading to the train.

"He'll be OK, right?" said Ron, as Hermione and Harry sat across from him, Ginny and Leah.

"He'll be just fine," Harry said, turning to the window. He could see Sirius standing there, waving reassuringly and enthusiastically. Everyone in the compartment returned the wave, and soon the Express hissed to life, and it started to pull away.

Harry only stopped waving when the Express turned around the bend, and fell away from the station at an increasing speed.

If it was a frenzy at the Hogsmeade Station, it was nothing compared to the frenzy at the Burrow. At King's Cross Station, Mr Weasley had arrived, and had driven Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Leah to the Burrow. Ron hadn't been kidding when he said his whole family would be there.

"Oh, good! Everyone's here," Mrs. Weasley called excitedly, hurrying from the kitchen to the front door. Mr Weasley ushered the five teenagers further into the house.

Percy, Fred, George, Bill and Charlie were all seated at the kitchen table, which was now large enough to fit at least 20 people. Harry suspected that perhaps Mr Weasley had the kitchen magically enlarged in order to fit all of those who would be dining at the Weasleys during the holidays.

Instantly Percy was up and rushing to Harry, extending his hand and shaking Harry's vigorously.

"Good to see you, Harry," he said in his usual pompous way.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Percy. Good to see you, too," he said as Ron, Ginny and Hermione were greeted by the other Weasley brothers.

"Everyone," Ron said, distinctly clearing his throat and addressing the entire household, which was now squished comfortably into the kitchen. He took Leah's hand and stood her in the middle of the kitchen so everyone could get a clear look at her. They all stopped talking at once.

Harry could see Leah's face turn a brighter shade of magenta as Ron introduced her to the entire family.

"This is Leah York," Ron said. Leah covered her eyes with one hand, lowering her face in embarrassment, and raised her head again as Ron named off his older brothers.

"It's a pleasure, Leah," said Mrs Weasley kindly, getting up from her chair. "Have a seat. I'll get you all some juice. Cookies anyone? I've just baked them." She walked over to Leah, gave her a comforting squeeze on the arm and led her to a seat. Ron sat down next to her at the table, where Ginny was squished between her twin brothers, Harry took a seat next to Hermione, who was settled next to Bill.

"Ron told me you're a Quidditch player," said Charlie, turning to Leah, whose face had gone back to its original color.

"I'm a Chaser, along with Ginny on the Gryffindor team," she told him, quickly growing out of her shyness.

"I was a Seeker when I was at Hogwarts. Captain, too. I could teach you a few moves myself, if you ever need any pointers," Charlie offered as Mrs Weasley set two heaping plates of warm chocolate chip cookies in front of the whole group.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry and Hermione chorused.

"Yeah," said Fred, plucking a cookie from the platter. "Thanks, Mrs Weasley. Where's the juice, eh?" he asked, quirking a brow.

Mrs Weasley ambled back to the fridge. "You can get it yourself, young man. I cringe to think what your flat looks like," she muttered to herself, pulling open the refrigerator.

"It looks great, mum!" George called back. "Mould never tasted better," he said and everyone except Percy sniggered at the table.

"Indeed," Mrs Weasley said with a stern glance at her twin sons. Though she smiled.

After an hour of sitting around the table, chatting about Hogwarts, Quidditch, and Fred and George's joke shop, Harry stood up, claiming he had to open his house for the holidays.

"Thanks for the snack, Mrs Weasley," said Hermione as she stood up with Harry.

"Will you two need a lift?" asked Mr Weasley. "Your trunks are still in the car," he reminded them.

"Nonsense," Mrs Weasley said, turning to her husband. "We'll just drop off the trunks later," she said, giving him a meaningful look.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat and nodded. "Not a problem. Have a good evening, you two," he said to Harry and Hermione, the latter of whom didn't understand in the least why Mrs Weasley was insistent on letting them both have some time alone together.

"It's because they figure we want a private snogging session," Harry explained to Hermione, as they walked hand in hand to Harry's home.

Hermione giggled, rolling her eyes. "It's not us they'll have to worry about," she said, thinking of Ron and Leah.

Harry sniggered with her in complete agreement. "Not just Ron, either," he added, reading her thoughts.

Hermione grew solemn, pondering how to phrase her next question. Then:

"You really think you're doing the right thing, Harry? Are you sure?"

"Well...if I'm not...then I'm in trouble, because I can't back out now. And besides, I am sure. Though to be quite honest, I don't know how. All I know is that if Ron finds out...it'll be over between us. He'd never forgive me," Harry said, his voice shaking.

Hermione said nothing to this, because the same bout of guilt that hung on Harry's shoulders also hung on hers. If Ron did indeed find out about the new secret that she and Harry were keeping from him, her friendship with Ron would be as over has Harry's.

"How about you? Are you OK with it?" asked Harry.

Hermione squeezed his hand in reassurance, and gave him a warm smile. "I trust you. And you need to do this," she added. "For Ginny, for Malfoy and for yourself."

Harry nodded gratefully, ignoring the queasy feeling he was getting in his stomach.

"It's probably a good thing," Hermione continued, as they made their way up the veranda of Harry's home, "that Leah is here. She can keep Ron occupied. It'll be easier to keep Ron out of the house," she told Harry.

Harry brightened slightly at this, seeing her reasoning.

He unlocked the door with the silver key, and pushed open the oak door, revealing the darkened household that was Harry and Sirius' home.

"Come on," Harry told her into the silent house. "Let's get started."

Hermione followed Harry through the house, lighting lamps and candles, opening curtains and fixing the house by dusting miscellaneous objects, fluffing cushions and doing a general job of tidying.

About half an hour later, Harry checked his watch for the hundredth time, and heaved a resigned sigh, looking at Hermione, who didn't know what to say.

Harry approached the fireplace and lit a blazing fire that warmed the house instantly. Hermione approached Harry, stood next to him, and gazed at the framed photographs on the mantle.

There was one of Baby Harry, being held by his father and mother, who were smiling brightly and waving at the camera. Another picture was taken of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Lily Evans, in their early years at Hogwarts. Each of the guys seemed to be struggling to get the best spot in the picture, while Lily desperately tried to get the picture-taker (probably Peter Pettigrew) to wait until they were ready. The next framed photo was of the more recent years, with Ron, Hermione and Harry grinning into the camera with playful tongues sticking out, mischief in their clear eyes. The last picture was of the Weasley family, all nine of them. Fred and George stood behind them all, sticking out "bunny ears" from Ron's and Ginny's heads as the two youngest Weasleys stood next to each other. Each Weasley was smiling broadly into the camera, though Mrs Weasley, after noticing Fred and George, started to scold them.

Hermione glanced sideways at Harry, and slipped her hand into his surprisingly cold one.

"Hey," she said, snapping his attention from his own deep thoughts.

He looked down at her, smiling reassuringly, and nodded as though to say that he was all right.

Then a distinct swooshing noise came from the fireplace, and Harry and Hermione stepped back automatically, just in time to see Draco Malfoy appear from the fireplace in a swirl of emerald green smoke.

His robes were sooty, and he coughed out some smoke before opening his eyes completely. His trunk lay at his feet, and he nearly tripped over it, blinded by the soot in his eyes.

"Watch it," Harry warned, stepping forward to remove the obstacle in his path. Malfoy coughed again, loudly, and then all was silent.

"Everything went all right, then?" Harry asked Malfoy.

"As well as they could have," Malfoy replied, now glancing around the family room, taking in the surroundings.

"Criticize all you like, Malfoy. I have no problem with letting you sleep outside," Harry said testily, mistaking the expression on his face.

Malfoy smiled. "So quick to jump to conclusions, Harry. It's cozy," he added after a few seconds, nodding approvingly.

Harry. He had said it again. Not Potter, in his usual sneering way. He had called him Harry.

At Hogwarts, when Malfoy and Harry had had their last conversation, Harry had suggested to Malfoy that he come spend the holidays with them, having found out that Malfoy was not, in fact, planning to go back home to his Manor. This was mostly a favor to Ginny, and only Harry's deep fondness for the red-head he considered his sister drove him to suggest such an idea.

When Professor McGonagall went around collecting names of those students who would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, Draco Malfoy did not sign up, and instead pretended that he would be going to his Manor for the holidays. He had sent an owl to his father, stating clearly that he would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. Lucius Malfoy hadn't even bothered to reply, and so the plan continued to form itself.

Earlier that day, when all the students were piling into the Hogsmeade station to board the Express, Malfoy had sneaked away, and hidden himself in the Three Broomsticks, waiting for the prearranged time when he would travel by Floo powder to Harry's home.

The most difficult part of Malfoy staying with Harry and Hermione was keeping himself hidden. None of the Weasleys, with the exception of Ginny, were supposed to find out that Malfoy was staying at Harry's. Harry had forewarned Malfoy that he would be spending a lot of his time hidden upstairs in the spare bedroom, and Malfoy had agreed wholeheartedly, without a single complaint. He had told Harry that even if it meant spending only five minutes out of the entire two weeks with Ginny, it was a far better holiday than spending it with his own family, firmly reminding Harry that he, in fact, loved Ginny and would literally do anything for her. Which satisfied Harry -- and Hermione -- when he had told her about the plan before the holidays had started.

That had been the other catch to Malfoy staying with them. If Hermione did not agree with it, the offer was out. But Hermione, instead of being shocked, repelled and disgusted, had claimed with her usual optimism that Malfoy staying with them could prove to be extremely promising, and perhaps would end the tiring, life-long feud between Potter and Malfoy.

Harry took a deep breath, considering something for a moment, then stepped around the sofa, motioning for Malfoy and Hermione to follow him.

Harry led them to the spare bedroom upstairs, down the hall from Harry's own room.

"You can stay here," Harry told him.

Malfoy passed Harry, stepped into the room, taking a long look. He dropped his trunk at the foot of the bed, and turned to Harry with a blank expression on his face.

"Well, I'm sure it's not anything like your room at the Manor," Harry said, jumping to the defensive, clearly interpreting his silence for great disgust of where he'd be forced to sleep.

But Malfoy smiled and turned back to the bed, his gaze fixed on a teddy bear that lay on the pillow. He turned back to Harry, quirking a brow.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, and rushed over, picking up the bear. "Sorry, it's mine. I must have left it here the last time I stayed," she explained. And Harry remembered the previous summer when Hermione had spent two weeks with Harry and Sirius.

Harry stared at Malfoy, who stared back, and finally Harry seemed to come to his final decision.

"If we're going to be friends, Draco, I want to tell you something...one friend to another."

Hermione shot a surprised look at Harry, but said nothing, letting him continue. Malfoy also seemed to be focusing on every word he spoke.

"If I ever hear the word "Mudblood" again, even one more time..." Harry said, straining to keep his voice under control, "I will have no problems unleashing all the Weasleys on you, one by one. Do you understand?" he asked, calmly looking into Draco Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's face remained carefully blank, but Harry thought he could see his throat twitch, as if wanting to say something, but unsure how to say it. He seemed to be struggling with his own thoughts, and finally he turned to Hermione.

"I'm sorry...Hermione," he said, matching Harry's same calm tone, but with a touch of unmistakable regret. Harry knew that in most cases, an apology would typically require an elaboration of sorts. But he also knew at this moment that Malfoy meant every word. The problem was, did Hermione?

Hermione, who's face had turned red with Harry's approach to defend and protect her from Malfoy, and then from Malfoy's direct apology, drew a deep breath, now dealing with her own contradicting thoughts.

Slowly, coming to the decision, she pardoned him with a single nod.

And then it seemed as though an invisible switch had just flicked on. Immediately the house cleared of the tension that had been born since Draco had arrived. Hermione smiled reassuringly to Harry, who sighed with relief.

Draco smiled, too, and grinned at Harry.

"Well then," Draco said, also feeling that the air had been cleared of many unspoken thoughts, "if this is where I'm sleeping, where will Hermione be spending the next two weeks, I wonder?" he asked slyly, looking from Hermione's blushing face to Harry's mischievous grin.

Draco returned the same grin, and Hermione glowered at the both of them.

"Oh, get off it!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "I'm still in the room, you know," and huffing in embarrassment and mild anger, she turned on her heel and exited the guestroom.

And for the first time since the two former rivals met more than six years ago, Draco and Harry shared in a delighted laugh.

The following week passed comfortably enough, with little incident. Only once had there been a close call, when Ron had shown up quite unexpectedly early one morning, marching into the kitchen where Harry, Hermione and Draco were eating breakfast. Draco, as fast as his feet could carry him, hid himself in the pantry until Harry could hastily direct Ron into the recreation room, so Draco could speed through the living room and upstairs to his own room.

Since that incident, Harry had become extra cautious and pleaded with Ron to knock first before entering the house. Ron, in his infamous ways, found it necessary to question this hasty pleading, and to Harry's embarrassment, Ron had come to the conclusion that Harry and Hermione were getting quite "experimental" during their time alone.

"Well, it's a lot better than Ron knowing the truth, isn't it?" said Hermione once Harry had told her this. Harry goggled at her.

The week before Christmas, Hermione had spent her nights with Harry, and Harry, after much contemplation, realized that he had never slept so well than when Hermione was in his arms.

Now December 25th dawned bright and cheerful, though very chilly. Harry didn't feel the cold, however. He only felt Hermione's warm breath on the base of his throat, her naked body pressed against his own, with a thick comforter thrown over them.

Harry didn't want to get up. It was Christmas morning, after all, but Harry felt that he would much rather stay in bed for the rest of the holidays. He had never felt so peaceful and contented. Later that day he was to spend with the Weasleys. They wanted him and Hermione over for both lunch and dinner, and Harry was very much looking forward to it...but nothing would ever measure up to the feeling of Hermione snuggled tightly in his arms.

She wasn't sleeping. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eyes were closed, but her breathing was steady, and there was movement behind her closed eyelids.

"Hey," he whispered, as his one hand found a stray lock of her hair and moved it away from her face.

She moaned a barely audible sigh.

"Happy Anniversary," he greeted as his heart suddenly swelled with love for her.

One whole year had passed, and it felt so unreal that it had only been just a year. So much had happened since then, and yet...nothing at all. At one end of the spectrum it felt like Harry had been with Hermione for years and years, then at the other end it felt just like yesterday that Harry had given Hermione the Friendship ring, the same ring that circled Hermione's third finger on her right hand. It wasn't called the Friendship ring anymore. After freeing the doomed spirit half a year ago, Harry had dubbed it the Promise ring, and Hermione had never taken it off once since that fateful day in the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione gave another small moan, and without opening her eyes her hand sought out his, and she squeezed it tightly within her grip.

"I love you," she murmured, and on impulse, Harry pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Thank God for that," he replied, making Hermione giggle. Keeping her eyes still closed, she pressed her body to his, and gave a happy sigh.

"Goodness," she said, in a dreamy stupor, "have I ever told you that you have an amazing body?" she asked, her hand gripping his one arm appreciatively.

Harry smiled. "No, actually, I don't believe you have," he told her. "Care to elaborate?"

The hand that had gripped Harry's harm slid under the covers away from view until it latched onto a body part that made Harry yelp with considerable volume and immense alarm.

Hermione giggled, withdrawing her hand. "Where to begin?" And then she cracked open one eye, giving him a sly smile. "And you had better keep your voice down," she told him. "You'll wake up poor Draco."

Harry turned his face into the pillow and gave a muffled snort of amusement. He turned his face back to her, finding that he couldn't keep his wide grin at bay.

"Me?" he said, a mad gleam in his green eyes. "That's only if you didn't keep him awake all last night. Gosh, the noises that you made. I never knew you were capable..." he said.

Hermione covered her face with her one hand in embarrassment, finding that it was burning with humiliation.

"Well," she said, after Harry's laughter died down, "I do learn from the best, do I not?" she asked, a single brow quirked, as though daring him to deny what she was suggesting.

"I do not make noises like that," he replied in mild indignation.

Hermione buried herself into his chest to muffle her laughter, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible to him. Their laughter died, and the silence increased, but it was a comfortable silence, full of soft touching, occasional kisses and dreamy expressions on their faces.

"Sit up. There's something I want to give you," Harry said, his heart thumping with excitement and a touch of nervousness.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "What is it?" she asked, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"It's a surprise," Harry answered, sitting up and reaching down underneath his bed.

Hermione sat up, propped up against the pillows just as Harry was. Her smile had not faded.

Harry brought out a small wooden case, (big enough to hold jewelry) with intricately carved flowers and wreaths all around the edges.

Hermione, taking the box eagerly, but with a touch of suspicion and humor said, "more enchanted jewelry? Didn't you learn your lesson last time?"

Harry tossed her a fake indignant look. "Hey--if it hadn't been for that ring--"

"I'd still love you. And just as much," Hermione responded before he could finish his sentence.

"Open it!" Harry urged eagerly, making Hermione laugh at his enthusiasm. She pried open the box, glancing down.

"Wha-" she gasped, lifting out a small pendant.

Harry's gift appeared to be a clear glass sphere, small enough to match the size of a large marble. Floating inside the marble, as Hermione peered at it very closely, was something that made Hermione's heart leap into her throat. A young and very beautiful girl floated within the glass sphere with eyes closed. She had long, waist-length silvery hair, and porcelain-like features.

"Harry! Is that the--"

Harry smiled. "Yes, it's the Princess," he told her, as she looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. He laughed nervously.

"But...how!?" she exclaimed.

Harry shrugged, remembering the steps he had to take. "I had Dumbledore place me in a trance so I could envision the Spirit in precise detail, just as I remembered her. While I was still in the trance, Professor McGonagall coached me to Transfigure the heart of the glass sphere into the vision of the Ring-Spirit," Harry explained.

Hermione was staring at the pendant, mouth opened in awe. She ran two fingers along the smooth sphere, a tear coursing down her cheek. She could practically hear the sweet, melodic voice of the Princess' Spirit.

"She's exactly like how I remembered her...Oh, Harry!"

Hermione threw herself into his arms, which was difficult considering how they were sitting, but their mouths seemed to be able to find each other, and they shared a warm kiss.

Pulling away, Harry said, "I thought it would be nice if I give you something that reminded you of our...first year together. When we're old and decrepit with 50 grandchildren, 20 great grandchildren and so on...you can look at this and remember how it all began..."

Hermione smiled, eyes moist. "The future you see sounds so wonderful..." She looked down at the pendant, still smiling. "I love it. I'll always cherish it," she promised, clutching it tightly in her fist, and she felt the heat from the sphere warm up her whole body.

"But just so you know," she added, tucking the pendant back into the box, "I'd never forget how it all began. You know that, right?"

Harry took the box from her and placed it on his nightstand. He took Hermione's hand and kissed her fingers.

"I love you so much," he told her, his eyes burning like coals.

Hermione smiled. "You've told me that a hundred times already. It's like you're afraid that I'm going to forget how much you love me."

"Aren't you?"

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly into hers, her eyes moist.

"As much as you tell me how much you love me, as often as you say "I love you", whether it's constant or not, I'll always know. I love to hear you say it to me all the time, but I don't want you to think that I don't feel your love whenever you're not sharing a bed with me, or sitting beside me at breakfast. If there's one thing that the Princess has taught me, it's that your love is in me, with me, and it's something that just grows stronger with every passing day."

Harry sighed, brushing his fingers through her messy, brown hair. "Thank you."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "What for, honey?"

"For washing away my insecurities," answered Harry. "Thank you for being you."

"Just as long as you never change," Hermione replied.

"It's a deal, love."

Hermione lay back down and settled her head on Harry's chest, her arm draped over him, his arms around her frame. They lay, silent and thankful of each other.

"We should get up," Harry told her, after what seemed a very long time.

Hermione, whose face was buried in Harry's chest still, shook her head vehemently.

"Let's just stay here until the end of time," she said dreamily.

"Oooh, I'd sell my Firebolt for a chance at that," he said truthfully. "But it's Christmas, and Sirius is going to be here very soon. Not to mention the Weasleys, who are expecting us in a few hours time, and Draco Malfoy, who's still stuck in his room," Harry reminded his girlfriend.

"And don't forget Remus," Hermione added, sitting up again.

Harry slapped a hand to his forehead. "Blimey, I did forget. See? Do you see how much we have to do today?" His face showed nothing but calm, but Hermione could detect the worried tone in his voice.

She looked at him in mild concern.

"Are you OK? I mean...you don't sound so well," she said.

Harry looked sideways at her. "I just realized that Sirius is returning today...and that Remus is going to be here later. It's just that..."

"You thought you'd have more time?" Hermione asked.

Harry answered her with a short nod.

Hermione touched a hand to his arm, squeezing reassuringly.

"It's just that," Harry continued, "I have to tell Sirius about Draco. And then I have to tell him about his Christmas present. Am I doing the right thing?" he asked.

Hermione gave a sly smile. "Isn't it a little late to be backing out now?" she asked, laughing lightly. "And besides, you've worked hard on Sirius' present. However, you don't have to give it to him if you don't want to. But don't forget either, that Remus will be there when you give it to him."

Harry nodded again.

"And as far as Draco is concerned, Sirius doesn't seem to be the type to get angry over something like that. The worst he'd do is toss Draco out on his behind. And Sirius would never go that far."

Harry nodded, smiled, and gave her hand a light squeeze in return.

"Thanks," he said. "But even you can't say how he'll react to his Christmas present," he added logically.

"Maybe not," Hermione agreed. "But you had Remus and Dumbledore help you with it, and they know him better than anyone else we know. They would never have agreed to help you if they didn't think it was a good idea...or if they thought that Sirius wouldn't want to know."

Harry considered her logic for a moment, agreeing with it, but still unsure of himself.

Hermione gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek and sat up, letting the comforter fall from her naked body before slipping into a house robe.

"I'll be a few minutes in the bathroom," she told him, smiling sweetly.

She exited the room, and not even two seconds later she burst back into the room and threw herself onto Harry with an excited screech. She rained his face and chest with kisses.

"Happy Anniversary," she whispered into his ear before pressing a heated kiss to his lips. She pulled away and exited the room without a backward glance, leaving Harry quite light-headed, his body pulsing with love for her.


To Be Continued...

Note from Fae: Well--part one is over. There are 4 chapters in total which take place over the Christmas holidays. Some questions have been answered and still many more remain to BE answered. How will Sirius react to the thought of a Malfoy in his home? What exactly did Harry get his godfather for Christmas? And what does Remus have to do with any of it? I'll promise to post if you promise to come back!

Thanks again,

Fae

Chapter 11: Christmas at the Burrow
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: fae_child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: While enjoying Christmas Day at the Burrow with the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Ron discover a sinister occurance, at which point Harry decides to follow his instincts.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Fae's Quickie: This chapter takes place directly after the last. I normally don't do chapters like this, but here I was left no choice. (Don't ask why). Anyway, enjoy!

Special Thanks: To Gary Skinner, as always, for this chapter entirely. He's a brilliant beta, friend and writer. And more thanks out to the readers and reviewers, for taking the time to read and review!

Harry's thoughts trailed off to his godfather, who would be arriving within the next hour or so. His stomach tightened with guilt. Sirius Black did not know that Harry had been keeping Draco Malfoy hidden in their home. And personally, Harry had no idea how his godfather really would react. He did, however, assume that Sirius would be extremely disappointed in him, and he feared more than anything that he would lose his godfather's trust, as it meant every thing to him.

15 minutes later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, re-entering Harry's room, her hair in dripping wet, tight curls. She busied herself with getting dressed while Harry quickly took his own shower, waves of nervous guilt washing over him as he did so, still thinking of Sirius' reaction.

When Harry got dressed, he and Hermione made their way to Draco's room, finding him rummaging through his trunk, seemingly looking for clothes to wear.

"Sirius is going to be here around 10," Harry told him, as he and Hermione sat comfortably on the bed.

"Right," answered Draco, looking up from his trunk with a faint smile on his face.

"Don't worry, though," Hermione jumped in quickly, "once Harry speaks with Sirius, it'll be OK. Just for now…"

"Stay in my room, and be a good boy," Draco finished for her.

Hermione's jaw snapped shut, looking genuinely apologetic.

"It's OK, guys. I don't mind. Ginny keeps saying that good things are worth waiting for. Patience was never my virtue--but I'm starting to believe her." Draco admitted.

Harry smiled in reply, thankful for Draco's acceptance, even if it was just for show. Later on that night, every thing would be out in the open, and Harry couldn't wait until everything was just so much...simpler.

Harry also had to marvel at how comfortable the three of them felt around each other. After Draco's apology to Hermione, things had changed drastically for all of them, and Harry found that there were things about Draco that he actually found admirable, even enjoyable. He couldn't believe that he and Draco had lived in total hatred of each other over six whole years. Hermione also had confessed to Harry that she could see what Ginny saw in him.

"Expect Ginny over around lunch time," Harry said to Draco. "She plans to skip out after we open presents."

Draco smiled appreciatively. "Thanks. At least I don't have to wait until dinner to see her."

"Oh, yeah," Hermione piped up. "I'll pre-make your dinner and you and Ginny can eat upstairs, here. All you'll have to do is heat it up. OK?"

Harry thought it would be impossible for Draco to look even more appreciative than he already was, but Draco proved him wrong by giving Hermione a look of deep, utter respect.

"You don't have to do that, Hermione," he objected.

"Don't be silly!" exclaimed Hermione, smiling her own sweet smile. "It's absolutely no problem. Besides..." Hermione looked sidelong at Harry.

Reading her thoughts, Harry finished the sentence for her.

"We know exactly what it's like having to keep a relationship a secret. We had to; last year. For most of the school year. We didn't really have anyone to help us through it. Eventually there'll come a day when you will be able to 'come out', but until then, Hermione and I are here for you."

"And you won't have to worry about Remus and Sirius. They'll keep this to themselves. As it turns out, last year Sirius knew all about Harry and me, and never said a word. We know we can trust them," Hermione added.

Draco's already pale face seemed to lose whatever color it held.

"Remus? As in Remus Lupin? He's coming too?" he asked in a choked voice.

"Oh," Harry said, realizing he had forgotten to tell Draco about their last-minute addition. "Something came up. I had to contact Remus, and he'll be arriving in time for dinner. Though he'll be eating dinner with us at the Weasleys, he will be spending the remaining holidays with us...here," Harry explained.

Draco gulped audibly.

"It's just that...he hated me...Lupin. Both he and Sirius hate me..."

"We've told you not to worry about that," Hermione insisted. "I have extreme faith that they'll accept you. They have to...if for no other reason than the fact that they both care for Harry, and respect him."

Draco seemed visibly relieved to hear this. He nodded, staying silent.

Harry took this opportunity to get his day going, and stood up, Hermione following suit.

"I'll bring you up your breakfast, Draco. Just take it easy up here. Enjoy the peace while it lasts," she told him with a wink and exited the room.

Harry followed her, then stuck his head back in the door.

"Hey," he said to Draco, whose head was bent into his trunk still. He looked up.

"Merry Christmas...in spite of the conditions," Harry greeted with a grin.

Draco grinned back. "Same to you, Harry."

"There," sighed Hermione, looking at the clock on the mantle over the fireplace. It was just a few minutes before 10 am, and Hermione had just delivered Draco his Christmas morning breakfast. Harry and Hermione had a few minutes to spare, and they spent this time tidying the house, and making sure that the Christmas tree looked immaculate with piles and piles of presents underneath.

During their first week of holidays, Hermione, Harry and Draco had kept themselves busy by decorating the entire house full of Christmas decorations. Harry had been startled when Draco had revealed that he had never decorated a Christmas Tree in his entire life, and that the Malfoy Manor had never seen a Christmas decoration since Draco could remember. The idea of such an absurdity made him laugh with mild bitterness, and Harry had given him an apologetic smile.

It was then that Harry realized that this was a Christmas that not only he would remember until the day he died, but it would be memorable for both Sirius and Draco as well, even if Draco was forced to stay in his room mostly during the day. Night seemed to be the only safe time for him to exit his bedroom, and night was when Ginny found herself at Harry's house, with or without her parents' permission.

Harry could hear a car pulling into the driveway, and he and Hermione rushed to the front door, yanking it open to reveal Sirius Black exiting his car, looking strained. But once he saw them at the doorway, rushing out to help him with his bundles and trunk, his handsome face split into a wide grin, and he waved enthusiastically.

"Merry Christmas, Sirius!" exclaimed Hermione, who was the first to reach him and wrap him into a welcoming hug, which he returned in abundance.

"Same to you, same to you," he exclaimed jovially, as Harry reached them both and included himself in the hug.

Together, with their hands full of packages and bundles, they walked into the warm, inviting house, and Harry heard Sirius in front of him give a satisfied sigh.

"It's so good to be home," he said.

"It's good to have you home," Harry said truthfully, dropping the packages under the brightly decorated tree, and he motioned for Hermione to do the same. He chose to ignore the bout of guilt he felt again, concentrating completely on his godfather.

"How was work, then? Since you found it so necessary to keep working during the holidays," Harry said, with a tinge of bitterness.

Sirius turned to him after surveying the house with a quick glance. His expression was not one of annoyance, but one of apology.

"Sorry," Harry quickly apologized, before Sirius could. "I just...missed you. Having you around all the time...and then suddenly not having you...I just get paranoid sometimes."

It felt much easier to speak his mind, now that the spoken situation had passed. He felt silly expressing his concern, but he would have felt a lot sillier had he said these things a week ago.

Sirius smiled, his light eyes shining with appreciation.

"I missed you, too. Both of you," he added to Hermione, who smiled in return. "And to answer your question, my work isn't done."

Harry's eyes widened, flashing with brief anger. "They're still making you work?!" he exclaimed incredulously.

"They're not making me. I'm doing a special favor for Dumbledore," said Sirius. "I have enough time to sit with you for a couple of hours, then I have to do this one last thing. I'll be gone just for a couple of hours."

After a moment, Harry realized that his mouth was hanging wide open, his green eyes flashing with anger. Hermione sensed his frustration, moving to him and placing a delicate hand on his upper arm. She squeezed gently, peering into his face with a look of calm serenity.

"Hey," she said, jarring him out of his angry stupor. "It's OK. If this is what Sirius has to do..." She looked back at Sirius, who was watching Harry closely.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know this means a lot to you. But it's just this one last thing, and I swear, once it's finished, I won't lift a finger for the rest of the holidays." Sirius' eyes shone with sincere apology that didn't go unnoticed by Harry.

"Yeah," Harry finally said, thinking of Draco Malfoy upstairs, the guilt on his own shoulders and deciding that being a hypocrite wasn't exactly a Harry Potter thing to do. He forced a smile on his face. "I understand."

Sirius smiled and sighed with relief, and they all sat down in the living room, in front of the fire and the Christmas Tree.

"It looks wonderful," Sirius told them while looking at the colorful tree, as they explained what they had been up to all week.

Hermione continued to talk with Sirius while Harry's thoughts drifted, glancing at the framed photos on the mantle that hung over the fireplace.

During the first week while Draco and Harry had been decorating the living room (at which point Hermione had been in the kitchen cooking), Draco had lifted one of the photos from the mantle into his hand and had stared at it for what seemed a very long time. Then he had looked at Harry with the oddest expression on his face.

"Your parents?" he asked.

Harry nodded, and realized that even though Draco had known all about his parents' death, he had never known what they had looked like.

"You have your mum's eyes," Draco said, with a trace of a smile on his face.

"So everyone tells me," Harry replied, surprised that he didn't feel the least bit threatened by this supposed violation.

"You're tall like your dad, though. Got his hair, too," Draco remarked. He looked up at Harry from the framed photo of Lily and James Potter who were holding Baby Harry.

Harry smiled back. "I've been told that I look exactly like my father," he said.

Draco nodded in agreement, smiling again. "Isn't it funny how for some people, looking like their fathers makes them proud, even happy? And for others...they consider it a curse?"

Harry looked at him in surprise. But before he could say anything Draco was speaking again.

"For what it's worth, Harry," and he gave a small laugh through his nose, "and I very much doubt it's worth anything at all, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway..."

Harry stared at him, waiting.

Draco looked back down at the photo. "I'm sorry," he said shortly.

Harry didn't know what exactly the apology was for. Was it for his parents' death? Or the fact that Draco Malfoy had tormented him for six years about it? Or perhaps because his own father had been involved with the one who actually killed his parents? Then again, maybe he was apologizing for all three, so Harry nodded briefly.

"Thank you."

"--dreaming again."

Harry sat up, startled out of his memory.

"Sorry?" he asked, looking at both Hermione and Sirius who were looking at him with humorous eyes.

"You weren't paying attention, were you," said Hermione. "Dreaming again?"

Harry smiled guiltily. "Sorry," he apologized again. "I'm a little tired...didn't get much sleep last night."

Sirius cleared his throat. "Is that so?" he said, quirking a brow.

Hermione stood up suddenly, and declared that she was going to finish up making their breakfast. Harry laughed, catching the redness in her face as she sped off through the living room.

They ate breakfast and chatted until just before noon, when Sirius announced that he had to leave, and would see them in a couple of hours. Which meant that Harry was free to go upstairs, inform Draco that he and Hermione would be going to the Burrow, and assured him that Ginny would arrive around noon.

"This one is from both Leah and myself," Ron said to Hermione, holding out a large bundle to her.

Hermione accepted the Christmas gift, nearly dropping it from its weight.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, looking more bashful than Harry could ever remember her looking.

She delicately removed the red and green wrappings as a large, hard-cover book fell out.

"Muggle-born Witches and Their Contribution to the Magical World," Hermione read, her mouth dropping in awe. She looked up at Ron and Leah, positively beaming.

"Mum and Dad helped us find it. It's old, it hasn't been updated in years," Ron explained, looking slightly embarrassed.

"But chances are when they put out a new edition, they'll have a whole chapter on you," Mr Weasley added, making everyone laugh, including Hermione.

"I love it! Oh thanks, you guys!" And Hermione threw her arms first around Ron, then around Leah, thanking them profusely.

"Well, I think that leaves just one more," said Charlie, standing up. "We wanted to save this for last, Ron," and he exited the living room, all of the other eight Weasleys, Leah, Harry and Hermione waiting for him to return, with Ron looking extremely puzzled and amazed at the same time.

Charlie returned with a long, thin package and handed it to Ron, before taking his seat next to Percy.

Everyone seemed to be bubbling with a quiet excitement, Ron staring at the package in utter shock. It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out what the gift was by looking at it.

"Open it!" hissed Fred impatiently, smiling with everyone else.

Ron shook himself out of his stupor, tore off the deep blue wrapping paper and revealed the present within.

"Oh, wow..."he gushed, his mouth dropping open, finding that he couldn't keep it closed.

It was, of course, a broom. Perfectly polished, well kept and beautiful to every last detail. The handle read: "Nimbus 3000".

"Wow!" he exclaimed again. He knew that the Nimbus 3000 wasn't the best, as the Firebolt would exceed any of the Nimbus series, but he also knew that it was extremely expensive, and considered a first-rate broom.

"We all chipped in," Bill said, nodding to each Weasley.

"You deserve one, honey," said Mrs Weasley. "We know it's not the best, but--"

"It is the best, Mum. This is incredible!" Ron said, breathing heavily with excitement.

"One thing's for sure-- Malfoy certainly doesn't have a broom as good as this," George said with some satisfaction.

Harry shot a glance at Ginny, who was staring at her own feet, afraid that the expression on her face would reveal what she was keeping from her whole family. Looking beside him, he could see Hermione doing the same.

The Weasleys laughed at George's statement.

"Just wait until we get back to Hogwarts, eh, Harry?" said Ron, a triumphant gleam in his bright blue eyes. "I can't wait to see the expression on Malfoy's face."

Harry gave the Weasleys a fake smile, guilt hitting him in the form of nausea. He hoped the Weasleys hadn't noticed his face flushing red.

Hermione gave a high, false cough, while Ron, Leah and the others continued to ogle at the broom.

"Mr Weasley?" she said, catching the older man's attention.

As if speaking in a silent, understood language, Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, nodding enthusiastically before exiting the room.

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion, and Hermione explained to him what Mr Weasley was getting for her.

After having disappeared for a moment or two, Mr Weasley returned with Hermione's request and handed her a stack of newspapers before taking his seat next to his wife.

"What's that, Hermione?" asked Ron, just barely taking his eyes off of his broom.

"The Daily Prophet, a weeks worth," Hermione said shortly, glancing at the top issue with a mad gleam of excitement in her eyes.

"Why would you care about week-old news?" asked Ron, looking aghast.

"Like I've told you time and time again, Ron. It's always good to keep up with the wizarding world," said Hermione without looking up.

"Hey? Where's Ginny gotten to?" asked Leah, looking around the living room, which was now cleared of most of the Weasleys.

Harry and Hermione glanced quickly at each other, and Harry shrugged at Leah, hoping he looked clueless.

"Maybe she went for a walk," he suggested. And he breathed a silent sigh of relief at the fact that no one found this suspicious.

"Well, I'm going to use her room to read up on the news in peace. If you need me, you know where to find me," said Hermione, and with her head still bent over the papers, she marched up the many staircases to Ginny's room.

"Leah!"

Harry and Ron jumped. Charlie, who had left a few moments beforehand, had just re-entered the room, his Nimbus 2000 draped over his shoulder.

"Oh, right!" Leah exclaimed. She looked at Ron anxiously.

"Do you think it'd be OK if I used your broom, Ron? I left mine at Hogwarts..."

"'Course," said Ron, looking at his brother curiously. "What's going on then? You gonna teach her your moves?" he asked, grinning.

"Just giving her a few pointers. Though I doubt she'll need any. This is just for fun anyway," he added.

"You don't mind, right?" asked Leah, kneeling down in front of Ron, her dark hair shining from the light that seeped through the curtains. Her big brown eyes twinkled with amusement, her dark red lips spread in a warm smile.

"Course not," Ron said again, and blushed furiously as Leah gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"See you later, then!" and she bolted after Charlie with Ron's new Nimbus thrown over her shoulder.

"Come on," said Harry, standing up himself. "Let's get some fresh air."

Together they walked through the kitchen and through the back door, stepping out onto the snow covered ground dressed in their new jumpers.

"Things are OK with you and Leah?" asked Harry.

Harry couldn't tell whether Ron's face was red from the cold, or from actual embarrassment, but he nodded all the same.

"Good," said Harry, fighting off a smile. They shuffled around the yard, talking about Quidditch. When ten minutes passed, Ron smacked his hand to his forehead.

"Oh, right! I wanted to hear the score on the National Teams," he said and hurried over to the kitchen window which was open ajar to let out the heat that the stove was emitting. "I hope I didn't miss it," Ron added as they approached the window.

The radio was tuned to WWN, Wizarding Wireless Network, but what Harry heard being announced had nothing to do with Quidditch whatsoever.

The newscaster for WWN spoke in a clear voice, "-- still no comment from the Ministry of Magic on the destruction of the Hanging Tree in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole."

Harry and Ron, exchanging extremely puzzled and curious looks, stepped forward to listen better.

"This ancient tree was witness to abominable acts of violence against witches and wizards, many of whom vowed everlasting curses against--"

The newscaster was cut short as the radio was turned off abruptly. Harry and Ron could hear Percy talking to his parents in a heated sort of way.

"You know the kids aren't supposed to know--"

"Kids?" whispered Ron indignantly, glaring. Harry shushed him, and nodded for them to continue listening.

"We know, Percy. We already talked with Sirius about this. The last thing we want is for their vacation to be ruined," came Mrs Weasley's voice, which was slightly higher than usual. Their voices began to fade, and Harry knew that the older Weasleys were taking the conversation elsewhere.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, a deep feeling of foreboding arousing his nerves. Ron grabbed Harry's arm in sudden inspiration.

"Hermione!" he said.

"What about her?" asked Harry.

"She's reading up on the Daily Prophets. Maybe they'll have something about what we just heard in there?"

"It's worth a shot," Harry agreed, as they entered the house.

The two of them hurriedly made their way to Ginny's room and found Hermione sprawled on her stomach on Ginny's bed, reading the most recent Daily Prophet article. The other articles were strewn all over the bed, some scattered on the floor.

They told her about what they heard on the radio, and Hermione, as though a switch in her brain had been flicked on, sat up instantly, and they all searched through the tossed about papers.

"Here!" said Hermione, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet at them. Harry and Ron sat down on the bed next to her, and listened as she read:

"Monday, December 22, 1997.

The Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole was the scene last night of an incident that has caused ripples throughout the Magical Community.

Shortly after 8:00 p.m., a freak bolt of lightning struck and destroyed the infamous Hanging Tree in the town square. A remnant of an earlier, less civilized age, it has been shunned and all but forgotten by respectable witches and wizards for generations. In times of past, countless victims, both wizard and Muggle, met a horrible end at the hands of hysterical mobs via this barbaric instrument of death.

Many are openly celebrating its destruction, eager to wipe out the dark stains of the past and embrace the fast-approaching 21st century with a clean parchment. Others, however, consider its sudden and violent end an ill omen.

"It was evil to the core," said an old wizard who declined to be named. "Full of Dark Magic, it was. And where's it all gone, then?"

Many are voicing this same question in more concrete form, in letters owled to the Ministry of Magic. Percy Weasley, speaking on behalf of Minister Cornelius Fudge, promises an investigation after the holidays. But the Ministry's official position remains one of unconcern."

"So that's it then," said Harry, as Hermione finished reading, and lowered the paper. "The Hanging Tree."

Hermione handed him the article at his request and he looked at the photo below the article. A large, charred stump was the focus of the picture, while wizards and Muggles moved past it, some puzzled enough to stop and take a look at the destroyed tree. Over the stump, in the background, Harry could clearly see the Clock Tower in the distance.

Hermione frowned, pondering the article that was still clutched in her fist. "There's something odd about this," she said softly, almost speaking to herself.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

Hermione looked up at them both. "I'm not sure. That's just it. But there's something about it..."

Puzzled, but trying to sound reassuring, Harry said, "you'll figure it out. Whatever it is."

In spite of Sirius' warning to stay out of trouble, and in spite of Ron's parents wanting to protect them all, Harry felt that this new situation was more than just a tree being destroyed, and knew that there was more to the Hanging Tree than what most people thought.

Is this what my vision was about, he wondered.

He had told both Hermione and Ron about Trelawney's latest prediction from a month ago, but he didn't have the heart to worry them with his concerns about the article until there was something to worry about. He wanted to be sure before he said anything.

"I want to go into town and check this out," he told them, his mind set in determination. Ron and Hermione both knew that even if they tried to reason with him, their efforts would be futile. Hermione nodded.

"Dad'll let us borrow the car," said Ron, though the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. "We just won't tell him we're going into town. He'll know instantly why we'd be going there," he said.

"I'll drive then," offered Hermione. "I'm not taking any chances with you guys getting behind the wheel. That's just what we need; to hit a tree on Christmas Day."

"You're never going to let us live it down, eh, Hermione?" Ron said indignantly. "It was five years ago!"

Hermoine rolled her eyes, smiling, and led the boys out of Ginny's room.


To Be Continued...


Author's Note: Thanks for reading! And I hope you return for Part Three of the Christmas holidays to find out about the Hanging Tree. And find out what happens when Harry tells his godfather about Draco.

Chapter 12: The Hanging Tree
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: fae_child@hotmail.com
Summary:Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: It's a History lesson taught by Sirius, as he sits down with the trio and tells them all about the mystery behind the Hanging Tree.
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer:Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: I'd really like to thank Gary Skinner for all his patience, his brilliance and his awesome beta work. I don't even want to think about what this story would be like without him.

And another thank you to Occamy and Bluejello, for their pressure! ^_^

Fae's Quickie: About a week ago I was sitting around, sulking, and drinking away my sorrows with my comfort booze. At which point my Muse directly removed my bottle of whiskey and insisted that I get writing. She sat me down in front of the computer and even rested my fingertips on the keyboard. And then I started writing. But my Muse did not like what she was seeing. She got frustrated with me. I got loud and obnoxious. (What the hell did she expect when she took away my whiskey?) We ended up arguing.

And then--I left the room in a huff. (I'm a lover, not a fighter--and even in my drunken state, I'd rather not lash out at those who are clearly acting out against me in pure hatred). When I left the room, I walked up the stairs...and turned right. I entered my bedroom, yet when I walked in, it wasn't my room. I found myself standing in an endless field of silver daisies. Each petal glittering with a velvety warmth that made my breath catch. And then an overwhelming sense of beauty wrapped around me like a cacoon... and I felt the thrill and excitement of wonder pulsing through my veins once again--like blood pumping endlessly, feeding life into me.

And then my Muse appeared before me, beckoning me with a comforting smile barely gracing her lips, her eyes filled with acceptance and reassurance. And then all I felt was a sense of calmness. I wanted to write. I needed to write. My Muse led me back home (literally and figuratively) and here I am. Telling you my sensational story because I felt I needed to explain to you all why I haven't posted in what...a week?

Thanks for taking the time to read! Enjoy!

"That is the sexiest half man, half horse I have ever seen."
~My brother, spotting Firenze in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

The drive from the Burrow to Ottery St. Catchpole was quite peaceful, as light flakes of snow drifted down from the gray sky above them. Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to leave Mr. Weasley's car out of sight, along a more private road, so as not to attract any Muggle attention. From where they deserted the car, they walked the rest of the way to where the Hanging Tree once was. As they approached the scene, a strong, howling wind started to blow from the North, making the falling snow whip against their faces, and the trio struggled with their scarves to block the harsh weather.

It was times like these that Harry wished he could wear his own warm, hooded cloak, as opposed to the winter ski jacket that he was forced to wear. Why couldn't Muggles have the sense to include the same features in their standard clothing? One glance at Ron and Hermione told him that they were wondering the exact same thing.

"Do you think we could go into the cafe over there for shelter?" Ron shouted over the shrieking winds, as he pointed somewhere towards their left. His face was as red as his hair and his teeth chattered as he spoke.

"We can't!" Hermione shouted back. "It's Christmas! Everything is closed!"

Hermione looked far worse off than either Harry or Ron. Her long, chestnut hair whipped across her face, getting into her eyes and mouth as she spoke. Her face was red, her lips chapped, and Harry vaguely wondered if her love for snow stretched this far.

But as they continued to approach the spot where the Hanging Tree once stood, Harry saw a tall figure, his back to them, and oddly enough the cold wind and snow didn't seem to affect the man at all.

Sirius Black simply stood there, hands tucked into his coat pockets, oblivious to the three 17 year-olds approaching him. Harry stopped in his tracks, holding out his arms to stop Hermione and Ron with him.

Ron turned to Harry, his mouth open in horror. Harry could tell exactly what was going through his mind. If Sirius found them there, he would most definitely tell the Weasleys, and Harry wasn't sure whose wrath he'd rather face: A former Marauder, or Molly Weasley.

He thought of turning around and heading straight back to the car, but something held him fast to the ground. Whether it was his cursed curiosity, or whether he was rigid with indecision, Harry couldn't decide.

"Come on," Harry told Ron and Hermione, nodding from them to Sirius. They nodded, matching pained expressions on their faces.

Harry led the way while Hermione and Ron trudged through the accumulating snow behind him.

Harry barely had time to speak, when Sirius slowly turned around, a bemused sort of expression on his face. He didn't look the least bit angry or disappointed, and this was a relief to Harry.

Then he remembered that Sirius was a master at hiding his true feelings, and the relief that Harry had felt quickly evaporated.

"Should I be surprised that you're here?" Sirius asked them.

Hermione and Ron opened their mouths to reply, but closed them, deciding that Harry would probably be the only person able to handle this particular situation.

"We heard about the Hanging Tree, Sirius. First on the news, and then in the Daily Prophet," Harry told his godfather.

"So that would explain why you're here, and not at the Burrow, where you're supposed to be...you know...staying out of trouble like I specifically asked," Sirius said, and Harry flinched.

"We didn't really expect to find you here," Harry said, hoping that this would pass off as an apology.

"And I suppose that makes this OK? Do Molly and Arthur know you're here?" Sirius said, looking sharply at Ron, who took an involuntary step backwards.

"They don't know..." Ron said, swallowing thickly.

"But it was my idea," Harry cut in quickly, drawing Sirius' attention back to himself. He wasn't going to let Ron and Hermione take the blame for something that they weren't responsible for.

Sirius gave Harry a very patient, level look, which in turn only made Harry feel more anxious.

"You weren't supposed to find out about this. The Weasleys didn't want you to know, but I warned them...that you'd eventually figure it out for yourselves," Sirius told them, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

Harry was grateful for the howling wind, which meant that Sirius couldn't hear him sigh with a newfound relief.

"Do you know anything?" asked Ron, somewhat more bravely than he felt.

Sirius gave an audible sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked extremely troubled, confused, the lines of fatigue around his eyes making him look weary and exhausted.

"Let's get back to the house," suggested Sirius. "I'll explain all I can there."

Harry knew that it was safe to go back to the house, Draco and Ginny were probably on the top floor, and Draco had been warned to stay out of sight.

But as Harry, Hermione, Ron and Sirius entered Harry's home, Ginny was already at the front door, her face was flushed, her brown eyes wide with shock at the sight of them.

"Ginny? What are you doing here?" asked Sirius curiously. The Weasleys were allowed free reign of the house whenever they needed it, so Harry knew that Sirius wasn't upset that he found her in his empty home.

Ginny paused for a moment in the doorway, breathing very fast and trying her best to look calm. Harry and Hermione forced their expressions to match Ron's and Sirius' own look of bewilderment, and waited for her answer.

"B-bathroom...I...n-needed," she stuttered. Ginny took a deep breath and took a moment to gather her bearings.

"I needed to use the bathroom, Sirius. Percy has been spending his entire morning in our own. He's so girly it's scary!"

Ron snorted with laughter, while Sirius merely grinned as Ginny pulled on her coat and slipped on her shoes.

"Could you tell your parents we'll be there around 4?" Sirius asked her.

Ginny nodded with a smile, turning to her brother. "When will you be home, Ron?" she asked.

Ron scratched his head, deep in thought. "Within the hour. I shouldn't be too long here," he said, remembering that his mother wanted his help preparing for Christmas dinner.

"We'll see you then," Ginny said quickly, and closed the door behind her as she left.

After hanging up their own coats and taking off their shoes, the three teenagers and adult made their way into the family room, where Sirius immediately created an inviting fire with a flick of his wand. Hermione, catching Harry's eye, told the others that she needed to use the washroom, and practically ran up the stairs. Harry knew that she was merely giving Draco an extreme warning to stay out of sight.

When she returned, they all took their seats, Hermione on the couch with Harry, Ron on the love seat, while Sirius sat in the armchair. They waited for the older man to begin.

"Maybe we could all use some butterbeer," Sirius suggested, and with another wave of his wand, a tray appeared with four steaming tankards of hot, delicious butterbeer. The tray settled itself on the coffee table, and each of them took a mug.

Now that they were warm and comfortable, Sirius cleared his throat.

"I must press upon you that what you're about to hear is in no way any laughing matter," he told them, looking serious. "Not to mention, Ron, that your parents did not want any of you to find out about this. They made me swear that I wouldn't so much as hint at anything, and to be honest, I didn't agree with them. But I respected their wishes...or at least I tried to."

"Why were you there, Sirius?" Harry asked him again. "Was this the favor for Dumbledore that you mentioned earlier?"

Sirius gave Harry an odd smile, and nodded.

"So that means Dumbledore is worried, doesn't it? If he's sending you to investigate for him," said Hermione.

Sirius turned his gaze to Hermione, a thoughtful expression on his face. "He's being very cautious," was his answer.

"So tell us about the Tree, Sirius," Hermione pleaded, looking very much like the eager student that she was.

Sirius took a sip of his butterbeer, put the mug on the table and drew himself up, making Harry feel like he was straight back in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"In the days before the Ministry of Magic was formed, the wizarding world was one of anarchy," Sirius began. "No one meddled in another's business. On the downside, this also meant that if any witch or wizard got into trouble, there would be no one to help them. So if a group of Muggles surprised a wizard and tied him up, what could he do?"

"A wizard without a wand is no better than a Muggle," Hermione added reasonably.

Sirius nodded, smiling.

"Exactly. Take it from me; even when I had been free from Azkaban those few years, without a wand, my magical abilities were useless. The Ministry snapped my wand once I was arrested," he told them.

"And they provided you with a new one from Ollivander's, once your name was cleared, right?" said Ron knowledgeably, having heard this from his own father.

Sirius nodded, and continued with the brief history lesson.

"Even though there was no order before the Ministry was created, there were still occasional conventions."

"Like the Warlock Convention of 1709, which outlawed dragon breeding, right?" said Hermione, and she bit her bottom lip automatically, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Sometimes I just...interrupt people. I don't mean to..."

Sirius and Harry exchanged a grin.

"Not at all, Hermione. Anytime any of you have any questions or comments, interrupt me all you like, OK? Let's just pretend we're in class for a moment."

Harry and Ron nodded while Hermione looked relieved.

Sirius then pressed his hands together, palm-to-palm, and continued with the lesson.

"In the old days, witches were hanged, not burned. And it wasn't just Muggles who did it. In the days of mob rule, a group of good witches and wizards might have hung a Dark wizard."

Ron frowned, puzzled. "Why didn't they just have the Dark wizards destroyed, you know...with the Killing Curse or something?" he asked. "It's obviously more simple than hanging a person..."

Instead of answering straight away, Sirius got up from his seat and started to slowly pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. He looked deep in thought, and Harry wondered if he was actually bothered by the question. But then Sirius turned back to them; his face set in a grave expression, his eyes darker than Harry had ever seen them, reminding him of the person who had spent 12 years in Azkaban.

"Yes," he said slowly, "they could have used the Killing Curse, or some other form of Dark magic. Some did, in fact. But there's a reason why those Curses were finally outlawed. Dark magic corrupts the soul. It exacts toll on the user as much as on the victim. No decent witch or wizard ever relished using it, even in a good cause.

"And even if that weren't the case," he continued, "being destroyed is not necessarily the same thing as dying. Take Harry for example. When Voldemort hurled the Killing Curse at him, it rebounded and hit himself instead. He was destroyed, but not killed. And since he was destroyed by magic... he could be revived by it as well--and he was."

Harry knew that this was true. Voldemort had come back when they had finished their 4th year. And half a year ago, the Ring Spirit had destroyed Voldemort--destroyed--but did that mean he wasn't dead? According to Sirius, this meant that Voldemort could come back.

He looked at Hermione as she looked at him, and he could see her brain working beneath her deep, mocha eyes. She was coming to the exact same conclusion.

But as Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, he heard a peculiar noise coming from outside the family room. A sort of shuffling, a creak of the floor. He turned his head toward the direction of the doorway, expecting to see a certain Slytherin blond lurking nearby. But he saw nothing, and instead turned his attention back to the conversation, where Hermione was now speaking.

"But why this particular tree?" she wondered.

"Well," Sirius said, pondering the question. "The Tree is full of spirits of those Dark wizards who were hanged. In fact, that's what it's mostly famous for. It's even why most Muggles avoid it to this day. People can sense the Dark Spirits that have lingered on after death. Their hatred and desire for vengeance are the ties that bind them to our world. The Tree is pure evil...and it can be used for evil purposes."

Hermione shivered, though the room was far from chilly. Harry resisted the urge to wrap her in his arms, wanting nothing more than to protect her from all that was bad in the world. Instead, he rested his hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she smiled at him in appreciation.

"For now, I'm going to ask you three to watch yourselves, and please...don't get yourselves involved. If there is anything Dark going on, there's nothing that any of you can do."

Harry felt the urge to instantly disagree, but he managed to keep the thought to himself. Maybe Sirius was right; maybe this WAS a situation that would be better off left to the professionals. He glanced at Ron, hoping to get a glimpse of what he was thinking at the moment about this new stack of information, and he noticed Ron's face screwed up in concentration. He looked slightly put out about something.

"Blimey, Sirius," Ron grumbled, avoiding the older man's eyes. "You're still treating us like kids. I'm almost 18, y'know. And as for Harry and Hermione, did you know that Mad-Eye Moody suggested that they would make good Aurors?" he said, and Harry detected a light trace of bitterness in his voice. "I mean, of course it was just Barty Crouch who said it...but the real Moody told Dumbledore the same thing...later on."

Surprisingly, Sirius didn't look the least bit upset at this. In fact, if anything, he looked disappointed.

"I don't doubt it," he said to them. "And a part of me wishes you two were old enough to be trained as Aurors. I'd feel so much better knowing that you two could defend yourselves."

Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised smiles at the compliment, while Ron sat up in his seat, anger flashing in his light blue eyes for not being included, once again. Harry caught this before Ron could say anything by jumping in.

"This is Christmas! We shouldn't be talking about dark spirits, haunted trees, or people getting hanged..."

Sirius heaved a sigh of relief, while Hermione nodded in agreement. Ron simply stared at Harry, looking as though he wanted to say some scathing remark, but nothing came out, and Sirius took this opportunity to swiftly change the subject.

"So, Ron, how's your broom holding out?" Sirius asked the red head, and Ron's eyes widened in sudden remembrance.

"My broom! Leah! I completely forgot about her!"

"You never told her that you were leaving, I take it?" said Hermione, in a lecturing tone.

"I forgot!" Ron cried again, standing up and rushing to the front door.

The others followed him.

"I'm sure Charlie took good care of her," said Harry, a sly twinkle in his eye.

As Ron slipped on his jacket he glared at his wizard friend. Hermione slapped Harry on the arm in a reprimanding way.
"I'll see you at 4, then?" Ron asked.

Sirius smiled kindly at the red head. "We'll see you then, Ron. And if you could-"

Sirius suddenly looked amazingly uncomfortable.

"What is it, Sirius?" Ron asked curiously, not at all certain that he was going to like what Sirius had to say.

"Well...it's just that...could you maybe...not tell your parents what I told you here just a moment ago? Molly Weasley doesn't have a magic eye like Moody, but she seems to miss nothing, and I've never had to face her wrath before."

The two younger wizards and one witch burst out laughing, while Sirius chuckled lightly with them.

"No problem, Sirius. I can't say that I blame you," Ron told the older man, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

As Sirius turned to make his way back to the family room, Hermione tugged on Harry's arm, holding him back for a moment.

"Maybe we should tell Sirius about Draco now, before Remus does show up, do you think?" she suggested.

Harry bit his bottom lip, an overwhelming sense of anxiousness settling in his stomach.

So many thoughts were racing through his mind at the moment. How would he tell him? How would Sirius react? Would he throw Draco out? Send him back to the Malfoy Manor, or Hogwarts? And then another thought hit him, worse than anything he had thought so far. Would he tell the Weasleys?

There was nothing he could do about it, Harry realised. Worrying about it didn't help the situation, and Hermione WAS right. Now was the only good opportunity to tell Sirius all about Draco Malfoy.

"OK. You're right," he told her, trying to gather up some confidence.

Hermione hugged Harry close, planting a kiss on his lips, trying to chase away all his self-doubt.

"You're not in this alone, Harry Potter," she told him. "You never have been. If you take the fall, then we take it together, always, remember?"

Harry took a deep breath and smiled. "Thanks," he simply told her, his hand finding hers as their fingers laced together.

They made their way to the family room, where Sirius sat in the armchair, staring at the colorful Christmas tree. Harry and Hermione sat side-by-side on the sofa, closer together now that Ron had left, with their hands still linked together.

Harry took a deep, cleansing breath, ready to take the plunge. It was now, or never.

"Can I ask you a question, Sirius?" Harry asked.

Sirius turned his gaze from the Christmas tree to Harry and Hermione, and catching the terrified expressions on their faces, his eyes suddenly shadowed with concern.

"You know you can," Sirius told him kindly, somehow sensing that Harry was having a very difficult time with what he wanted to say.

But Harry's whole face changed, from worry and fear, to innocent curiosity.

"I was just wondering..." he said, tilting his head to the side, and focusing his eyes on the corner of the ceiling, "how would you feel if..."

The words weren't coming to Harry, and the panic he had felt seemed to double, gripping him painfully. Get the words out, Harry...you've already prepared yourself for the worst, he told himself.

Sirius frowned more deeply. "Go on, Harry. You'll feel better once you say it," he told him.

Harry swallowed, and gave a short nod. "OK. Actually, my first question is: You know all about Draco Malfoy, right?"

Sirius gave Harry a quizzical look. "I know about the Malfoys, but I don't know much about Draco, no. Other than what I learned about him in class. And of course, how you two never got along," Sirius said, not at all sure where this was going.

Harry took another deep breath, feeling slightly braver. "Well...what would you say if I told you that we no longer hated each other?"

A long silence followed this, where Sirius simply stared at Harry. Hermione tensed, and Harry held a bated breath.

"Well, I guess I would have to ask you what changed your opinion about him," Sirius finally said, and Harry let out his breath.

"What if...I told you that someone showed me that he's not such a bad guy?"

Sirius leaned forward in his chair, piercing Harry and Hermione with a steady look.

"Something tells me these aren't just your regular, hypothetical questions. What are you trying to tell me, Harry? That you've patched things up with Draco Malfoy? If that's the case, then honestly; good for you. It takes a person of strong-will and an open mind to truly bury the hatchet with a school enemy," Sirius told him.

Harry gave Sirius a regretful look. "Actually, that's only part of it," he said, and Sirius had never seen Harry look so apologetic and terrified in all his life.

"What Harry's trying to say, Sirius," Hermione said, taking the lead, "is that while he and Draco have managed to patch things up between them, Harry and I wanted to do something nice for him...for Draco..."

Sirius' eyes now focussed on the young witch, his eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt her.

"You see, Draco didn't really have a place to stay this Christmas. He didn't want to go back to his Manor, and he didn't really want to stay at the school...so we both decided to invite him here, and stay with us."

Another long pause followed this announcement, while Harry and Hermione braced themselves for the worst.

"So he's here...right now..." Sirius finally said.

Harry nodded numbly. Any minute now, Sirius was going to erupt.

"And he's been here all week," Sirius said, trying to clarify the facts.

"Yes," said Hermione.

Another pause, while Sirius registered the information.

"So I'm going to take a wild guess, and wager that the real reason Draco is here is not for either of you, but for someone else...the same 'someone else' that made you see Draco in a different light?" Sirius said.

Harry looked up at the older man, a startled look on his face.

"Ginny Weasley?" Sirius suggested.

Harry looked at Sirius in amazement. "How did you know?"

Sirius gave Harry a pointed look, but Hermione was the one who answered.

"Ginny ran into us at the door, remember? She told us she was using the bathroom."

"But in fact, she was with Mr. Malfoy," said Sirius, smiling crookedly.

Harry nodded in response, not knowing what to say or what to do. Hermione seemed to be the one with her feet firmly on the ground, which made Harry all the more relieved.

"We wanted to tell you before we left for the Holidays, but Ginny swore us to secrecy, and we were worried that you would tell the Weasleys. They don't know," Hermione told Sirius.

"They can't know," Harry added, his eyes silently pleading with Sirius. "It's up to Ginny whether she wants her family to know..."

Sirius looked at Harry, not with the scorn or anger that Harry had expected, but with understanding.

"I won't tell them," he said. "But I take it that Ginny and Draco are aware that you were planning to tell me about this?

Harry nodded. "Ginny wanted to be here, to help us explain, but her mom wanted her home."

"I'm impressed, really, that Ginny can be so forgiving," Sirius said thoughtfully. "After what happened to her in her first year, with the Chamber of Secrets, and considering the fact that it was Lucius' doing that put her in that position. If she can get over the fact that Draco is associated with what she had to live through, that's saying something."

Harry nodded, unsure how to reply to this. Apparently Sirius didn't expect an answer, as he continued on in his thoughtful manner.

"Then it was Ginny who inspired this sudden change in your opinion about your ex-arch enemy?" guessed the older wizard.

Harry drew a deep breath and then let it out slowly, measuring out his words carefully.

"I can't quite put it into words, Sirius. I think...after knowing about Ginny and Draco, I realised that maybe he really deserves a second chance. So that's when I offered him a place to stay here, so he could spend his Christmas with Ginny."

Sirius seemed to be working through an inner struggle. He looked proud and frustrated, looking like he wanted to scold Harry, but couldn't find it in himself to do so.

"And you really believe he's not the horrible arch-enemy that you've grown to hate? He's Lucius Malfoy's son!" Sirius exclaimed.

Harry wondered if Draco could hear Sirius all the way from upstairs, but felt that now wouldn't be the time to ask Sirius to keep his voice down.

"I know who he is!" Harry hissed, suddenly feeling very doubtful about everything. Had he done the right thing bringing a Malfoy into his home? No, he thought again. He'd been through this. He'd spent a lot of time working through all the pros and cons, and in the end, he had made the right choice.

Hadn't he?

"But he's not the same person, Sirius," Harry said, as calmly as possible. The only way to get Sirius to see it the way he did was by showing just how strongly he felt about his own convictions. In order for Sirius to believe in him, he needed to believe in himself.

"If Ginny can see the goodness in him, then so can I. And I'm doing it for her, not for me. I'm sorry for dragging you into this," said Harry, standing up.

"Where are you going?" asked Sirius.

"To tell Draco that he has to go home, or back to Hogwarts," Harry said, feeling and sounding thoroughly disappointed.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius ordered in a soft tone.

Harry obeyed his guardian, trying to avoid Sirius' dark eyes, which were startlingly calm.

"I never said I want him to go home," Sirius told Harry, his tone strong and honest.

Harry slowly rose his head to meet Sirius' kind gaze.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know exactly what I mean. But I want you to listen to me carefully, Harry. I plan to bring Lucius Malfoy down, so I hope that you're right about Draco, or else he'll end up going down with the rest of the Death Eaters. Alright?"

Harry stared at him a moment, hardly believing his ears. Then he said, "If he's really in league with his father, Sirius, you'll be the least of his worries. I can promise you that."

The corner of Sirius' mouth twitched upwards, and he nodded. "OK. We'll talk more about this later, but for now, bring Draco downstairs. I'd like to welcome our guest properly."

Harry gave Sirius a suspicious look that Sirius understood too well.

"I won't say anything inappropriate," he told his godson, grinning in spite of himself. "And I promise not to turn him into a ferret."

Hermione and Harry laughed, feeling lighter and happier, as relief washed over the young wizard. That was one secret out of the way...just one more to go...

To Be Continued...

Chapter 13: Like Father, Like Son?
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: fae_child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: This is the last part to the Christmas Day chapters. Harry searches for physical proof that Draco is good. And Harry's last "surprise" to Sirius is finally revealed.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Harry and Hermione dragged a very reluctant Draco down the stairs to see Sirius, who smiled warmly at the blond and gestured towards the couch for him to take a seat. Draco did as he was told, looking more pale than his usual self.

"I've come to understand that you've been staying here for a week, and you're planning to stay on past New Year's, am I correct?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, sir," Draco said, sitting up straight in his chair. Harry sensed Draco’s determination to prove himself to Sirius. He almost laughed at the thought.

"I don't know what Harry and Hermione told you,” Draco continued, “but I thought you should know that it's not their fault that I'm here. I mean to say, it was my idea, so if anyone is going to get in any trouble--"

Sirius raised a hand to silence the blond boy, and he obeyed immediately. "Relax, Draco. I'm not here to punish anyone. Any friend of Harry's is welcome here in our home. Would you mind, actually, if we took a walk? The storm has died down. It looks rather peaceful out there, wouldn't you agree?"

Draco looked at Sirius as though he’d rather handle a rampaging hippogriff, but he gave a very hesitant nod, and they stood up together.

"We should be back shortly," Sirius informed Harry and Hermione, who merely stared on as they made their way to the front door.

"Remember to stay out of sight!" Harry reminded them.

There was no response as he heard the front door open and close.

Harry felt Hermione slip a hand around his waist, and he imitated her, slipping both his hands around her and spinning her around to face him, as he held her closely. He nuzzled her hair, taking in a deep breath, enjoying the sweet sensation of getting lost in everything that was good and sweet about his girlfriend. Hermione's hand slid around his neck as her fingers lazily played with his hair. His bright green eyes bore into her own brown ones, and they simply stood still like that, as though frozen in a painting.

"Thank you," Harry said softly as he kissed her forehead. Hermione's eyes closed, enjoying the simple touch of his lips on her skin.

"Whatever for, Harry?" she asked, just as softly.

Harry kissed her cheek, his breath tickling her earlobe. "Just for being here for me, with me, and coming to my rescue," he told her.

Hermione giggled lightly, making his pulse go berserk with love for her. "Don't mention it, love," she told him, before his lips met hers in a tender kiss.

As they pulled apart, Hermione rested her head on Harry's chest, listening to his heartbeat, which was timed to her own.

"Are you worried?" she finally asked, pulling back slightly and looking up at him. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were shadowed, and almost just as immediately, Harry swiped the look of anxiety from his face. But she knew he was only trying to hide his concern.

"Nah," he said vaguely, holding her closer to him. "I'm not worried. And you shouldn't be either," he told her.

Hermione grinned up at him. "You're the worst liar I've ever met, Harry. I know what's on your mind," she persisted.

Harry grinned back at her, rolling his eyes upwards. "There's no way to win with you, is there," he said.

"Nope, there’s not! Let's talk about it. What are you thinking about?" she asked.

They flopped down on the couch side-by-side, where Hermione, not letting go of Harry's hand, threw her slender leg over Harry's long one.

"Oddly enough, what Sirius told us doesn't bother me at all. Because what he said is true; there's nothing that any of us can do to help," Harry told her.

Hermione smiled. "That doesn't sound like the Harry I know," she said.

Harry grinned in return, rolling his eyes playfully. "OK...maybe there's something we can do, but we don't know what that is yet. And until we do, we're stuck. But no ... My biggest worry right now is whether Draco overheard us."

Hermione looked puzzled. "But I told him to stay upstairs. It's not like our voices could have carried that far..."

"Exactly. Which means Draco was downstairs listening in on our conversation, and that worries me for more than just one reason."

Hermione’s puzzled expression molded into thoughtfulness. "Well, I can see your reasoning. If Draco was down here listening to us, he'd be breaking his word to us by putting himself in danger of being caught, and he'd be betraying our trust by eavesdropping," Hermione answered.

"Not to mention what Draco would do with that kind of information. Sirius is partially right. He's still Lucius Malfoy's son," Harry said.

Hermione gave Harry a very pointed look. "And I thought you were ready to drop that little fact for Ginny’s sake," she said suspiciously.

"I am," Harry said defensively, feeling a familiar stab of guilt. "But sometimes I feel like I need some sort of evidence that Draco is the person that Ginny loves. I know there are times that I truly see all the goodness that Ginny sees, but my cautious side won’t let me drop the fact that he shares the same blood with Lucius Malfoy. And if he IS spying on us... “ Harry looked away, sighing deeply. “If only I could know for sure...”

Hermione gave Harry a thoughtful look, a fanatical gleam in her eye that Harry knew only too well.

"There is a way, isn't there," he told her, sitting up in excitement.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking deep in thought. Then she finally said, "There is a way, but I’m still trying to decide whether it’s a good idea to use it. I suppose this is a good reason...” she trailed off, frowning in concentration.

"You sound like you're trying to justify using it. What's the problem?" Harry asked her.

Hermione shot him a knowing look. "Well, Harry, this Charm isn’t used to spy on people... and performing the Charm for what we want to use it for? Well, it doesn’t exactly run with our own morals, does it?”

Harry sighed. “So you’re saying that it could compromise our morals? You’re saying this when there’s a chance that Draco could have been spying on us?”

Hermione shrugged. “We don’t know that for sure, but I’m not disagreeing with you. You know I’ll help you, if this is what you want.”

Harry took a moment to seriously think about what she was saying. True, he’d be a hypocrite by using the Charm. But there were more important things than battling it out with his own moral and value systems. Like finding out whether he had a dangerous spy in his home, for one.

“So, what is this Charm?” he asked.

"It's called the Echo Charm,” said Hermione.

Harry frowned. “The Echo Charm? I’ve never heard of it. Unless Flitwick told us about it during a day when I wasn't paying attention..."

Hermione frowned, her eyes narrowing. "With you being Head Boy, I would have thought that daydreaming during a lesson was no longer an option," she lectured.

"Are you kidding?" Harry exclaimed, grinning madly. "As Head Boy, I'm determined to push all my priveleges near breaking point, and that includes sleeping during class!"

"Harry!"

"Kidding, Hermione! I'm only kidding. Gosh, it's easy to get you worked up," Harry observed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Anyway, since you’re wondering, we never learnt the Echo Charm in Charms class. I had to teach myself the Charm sometime near the beginning of first term. Neville got in a spot of trouble with Snape, and he was made to clean up frog's guts, and I offered to help. Snape only let me help because he figured Neville would only cause more havoc.

"I decided to take my ring off in my room, so I wouldn’t muck it up with all the guts. When I came back to my room to get the ring, I couldn’t remember where I had put it. So after a trip to the library, looking up a Charm that would help me, I discovered the Echo Charm. I taught myself how to perform it, and in the end, I found my ring. I simply cast the Charm in my room, and I watched a shadow of myself place the ring where I had put it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds good to me. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course," she insisted, as they both stood up and made their way upstairs.

"What do we do if we find that he had left his room?" Harry asked her, fearing the very thought.

"Well, why don't we deal with that when it comes time to. And what makes you think that Draco even left his room? Especially after we warned him half a dozen times?" Hermione wondered.

Harry shrugged. "I heard a noise outside the room while we were talking with Sirius. I thought it might be Draco," he told her, perfectly aware how lame it sounded.

Hermione laughed through her nose. "Harry, this is an older house. That noise could have been the house settling, you know. Weird noises occur all the time."

"I know!" Harry said. “But it could have been him, too. I guess we're about to find out, right?"

Hermione said nothing as they stepped inside the guest bedroom, which was very close to immaculate. Whether Draco was this meticulous all the time, or he was merely making the effort because he was a guest, Harry didn't know.

Hermione whipped out her wand and whispered the incantation. Immediately two shadows formed, one a thin mist in the form of Draco Malfoy, the other in the shape of Ginny Weasley.

These shadows, or echoes, strongly reminded Harry of the end of his 4th year, when shadows of Cedric Diggory, Lily and James Potter, and a few others had appeared from Voldemort’s wand during that frightening duel that still sometimes haunted his dreams.

"Hermione? This was a couple hours ago, at least," Harry whispered, in awe of this strange and new Charm.

"I know...I don't know what happened. I must have gone too far back," she whispered back, staring at the two shadows in front of her. “This Charm can be very complicated. When I used it all those months ago, I had to go a few hours back, so I had to use a stronger form.”

"Is there any way to fix it?" Harry asked, not truly wanting to be a witness to what was obviously a very private moment between Draco and Ginny. But then something inside him went soft, and he wondered if this was all the proof he needed. "Wait," he whispered, holding up his hand to stop Hermione, who had raised her wand again.

"Wait? But, Harry..." Hermione looked at him helplessly, but Harry was too enraptured with Draco and Ginny to listen to her reasoning. And Hermione had to admit, as she fell silent beside Harry, she was just as curious to see what they were about to witness.

Ginny's echo was the first to speak. "That was really nice of Harry and Hermione--offering to make us that dinner. She and Harry have been so wonderful. You seem pre-occupied. Is it Sirius?” she asked.

Draco's echo drew a deep breath and exhaled. "Yeah, Ginny. But that's not all. Remus Lupin is coming over later this afternoon. They both despise me."

"Yeah...and whose fault is that?" Ginny said, grinning, her hand reaching out to take his. "But they'll grow to like you, and see all the great things in you that I know are there. Even Harry and Hermione see them."

Draco laughed, somewhat bitterly. "Don't get me wrong, Ginny. But they're only letting me stay so I can be with you," he said.

"You're wrong," Ginny persisted. "You don't know Harry as well as you think you do, honey. I admit, at first, they only let you stay for me. But you would have been out of here within the first hour if Harry hadn't found in you...what I found in you. You can trust Harry, Draco. You both are doing an amazing thing here, by getting along. Don't doubt yourself, or Harry, and please...don't doubt Hermione either."

Draco smiled at Ginny, his eyes lighting up just by looking into hers. He lowered his head to hers, his lips softly brushing her own.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Ginny,” he said softly. “I want to make you so happy, but I feel like this secret game we're playing isn't doing you any good."

Ginny's brown eyes bore into Draco's gray ones. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me,” she insisted, patting him on the leg.

“I do worry about you. And- -“

Ginny placed her index finger on Draco’s lips, stopping him from further speech.

“Please, Draco,” she whispered pleadingly. “You promised we wouldn’t talk about this on Christmas day. And the last time I checked, my calendar said it was December 25th, so please...”

“You’re right...I’m sorry,” Draco said, kissing the back of her hand. “And now that we’re on the topic of Christmas, I can give you this--“ and with a swift movement of his hand, he held out a small, rectangular shaped box to her. It was wrapped in bright and shiny red wrapping paper, tied with deep blue string.

Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as she held out a trembling hand, whereupon Draco promptly dropped the box into her palm.

“Go on, open it,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head in an affectionate way.

She peeled back the paper, revealing a smooth, mahogany case. Ginny lifted the golden latch, and she gasped with delight as a thin, silver bracelet came into view.

“Draco! It’s...it’s...” Ginny stuttered, words failing her completely. Draco took the case from her and gently removed the bracelet, turning it over to show her the underside of the bracelet.

“Take a look,” he said softly as Ginny gaped at him. She looked down at the bracelet, and saw the initials “GW+DM” engraved in miniscule writing. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Draco! What if -- what if someone sees it?” she exclaimed.

Draco gave her a nonchalant shrug. “So what if they do? First, they’d have to figure out what it means, and what are the chances of anyone seeing it anyway? I made sure that the letters were engraved on the inside, so you can wear it as often as you like without having to worry,” he told her, and then he leaned forward so their noses were nearly touching. “And that way you know that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, you’ll know that I’ll always be with you.”

Tears glistened in Ginny’s brown eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck, raining kisses on his cheek and placed a long, deep kiss on his lips.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” she gasped, as Draco placed the silver bracelet around her wrist and clasped the ends together. Ginny ran a finger along her Christmas present, her face fixed in a dreamy expression. She looked at Draco again, smiling warmly at him. “I’ll never want to take it off.”

Draco returned the smile, placing a kiss on her forehead. Ginny took a moment to compose herself, still admiring her new bracelet, and then she held out her own gift to him. It was a small square box. This was wrapped in silver paper, though the entire surface of the gift was taken up by a large, golden bow.

Draco grinned at her. “Silver and gold? Was there some greater meaning behind your choice of colors?” he asked her.

Ginny grinned back. “Actually, it was all we had left back in our dorm at school. And not until yesterday did I see the coincidence. But it makes a valid point, don’t you think? Gold and silver...Gryffindor and Slytherin. United at last.”

Draco ran a hand through Ginny’s red hair, smiling at her in a whole new way. “It’s something to work for, and it’s something we’re trying to achieve,” he said.

Ginny took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Go on, open it,” she urged. “It’s not nearly as precious as the bracelet you gave me, and I wouldn’t really blame you if you didn’t like it...but...”

Draco was peeling away the paper, where a small, black velvet box revealed itself. He opened it as Ginny turned her head away, not really wanting to see Draco’s expression.

It was a tiny diamond stud, and it shone brilliantly, looking very much like a single, bright star set against a velvet night sky.

“How did you...how were able to afford this?” Draco wondered, staring at the diamond in awe.

Ginny looked at Draco shyly, her brown eyes shining. “I saved up some money and bought if from a jeweler in Hogsmeade. The jeweler was pretty desperate to get rid of it, because it was the smallest, and it looked pretty dull, so he sold it to me for a cheap price. I managed to buff it up a little. I wanted to put some life into it, you know? But I know it’s a silly gift, and I’m aware it has its flaws,” she added, almost defensively.

Draco tilted her face up with a finger under her chin, his eyes holding her own in a steady gaze. “Oh...Ginny,” he sighed. “Who among us hasn’t?” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her passionately.

“Maybe we should stop now...” Harry suggested, and almost just as immediately, Hermione whispered a counter-incantation with a graceful wave of her wand, and the forms of Ginny and Draco vanished.

Harry sat on the foot of the bed, and Hermione sat with him, cradling her wand as they both sat still and silent, absorbing the scene that they had just witnessed.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Hermione finally spoke. “Well, we know one thing for sure.”

Harry looked at her and Hermione continued.

“Draco couldn’t have been spying on us. There’s no way...after hearing what he said. He wants to earn our trust, Harry. He wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship with Ginny.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “OK, so I was wrong. And now I’m the selfish prat...for betraying his trust.”

Hermione gave Harry a comforting smile, placing a delicate hand on his back and running her hand up and down it softly.

“We all make mistakes, and it’s a hard lesson to learn. But I hope that this is all the proof you need. Do you finally see how hard Draco is trying? Do you see how much he truly loves Ginny?” she asked him kindly.

Harry felt the guilt slowly ebbing away. “Yeah, I see it. Just as I’ve always felt it. I guess I was just being stubborn.”

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek. “Leave the stubbornness to Ron,” she suggested lightly.

Harry chuckled, and Hermione let her head fall on his shoulder, their fingers entwining. They watched their laced fingers for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence, when a loud knock came at the door, startling them out of their comfortable silence.

“Who could that be?” she asked, sounding disappointed that their time alone had come to an end.

Harry was already making his way out of the room. He popped his head back in, grinning. “Our dear old professor,” he told her.

Together they made their way to the front and opened up the door. Remus Lupin stood there in plain, Muggle clothing, including a long, black Muggle coat. Harry spotted a cab pulling out of the driveway.

“Remus!” Hermione greeted, smiling brightly.

“Merry Christmas, you two!” Remus exclaimed, beaming at the two teenagers.

“Here, let me take your bags,” Harry offered, and swiftly lifted the bags from Remus’ hands, not giving his former professor the chance to argue.

They all made their way into the house while Remus took a surreptitious look around, admiring the Christmas decorations.

“The house looks great,” Remus told them as they sat in the family room. “It looks different from when I was last here,” he added. During the Summer, when Hermione had come to visit, Remus had also stayed for a couple of weeks.

“You mean the Christmas decorations?” Harry wondered as he took a seat next to Hermione on the sofa.

“No...” Remus said, his eyes landing on the young wizard. “It feels more...”

“Like home,” Harry finished, smiling.

“Exactly,” Remus replied. “I felt it the moment I walked in ... You and Sirius have truly made this your home.”

Harry felt his heart warm at the older wizard’s words. He had always known it and felt it inside, but it was always a wonderful thing to hear that others felt it as well.

Remus took a moment to rummage through one of his bags, from which he pulled out many packages and parcels labeled with Harry’s, Hermione’s, Sirius’, and the majority of the Weasleys’ names. He deposited them under the tree where he spotted other gifts still there, some labeled "Remus," or "Lupin," and one present had a tag with the name "Moony" on it.

Harry caught the grin on Remus’ face, and he said, “When Sirius returns, we’ll exchange presents.”

The older man sat in the armchair, turned to face Harry and Hermione. “Where is Sirius?” he wondered.

Harry and Hermione took turns explaining all about Draco and Ginny, and the fact that they had just told Sirius about it. Thankfully, Remus did not overreact to the news that a Malfoy was dating a Weasley, and also promised not to say anything.

“Although,” Remus added, looking thoughtful, “Draco and Ginny will not be able to keep this a secret forever. And if the Weasleys find out the wrong way...I wouldn’t even want to think of the repercussions.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what’s been on my mind lately,” Harry told Remus, and the older man caught on.

“You’re not worried about Sirius, are you?” he asked.

Harry gave Remus a very pointed look. “This isn’t exactly the most ordinary of situations. I’ve been sneaking behind my own godfather’s back, exchanging letters for the past two months with a person whom I’ve never met before in my life-“

“You’ve met her. You were just a baby,” Remus corrected the younger wizard.

“Right. So I have no memory of her whatsoever. Either way, Sirius won’t be happy that I’ve been keeping something like this from him.”

Remus drew himself up, giving Harry a very level look. “I would not have encouraged it if I had thought it was a bad idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you, Harry,” Hermione interrupted, placing her hand on her boyfriend’s knee and keeping it there.

Harry looked between Remus and Hermione, giving them a crooked smile.

“But I should warn you,” Remus continued, before Harry could say something discouraging, “that he won’t jump up in excitement, dancing and cheering either.”

Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. Though Sirius was a very easy-going person, very lovable, kind and fun, neither of them could picture a man who was once considered a convict, dancing around the family room in excitement.

“He’ll be very shocked,” Remus added once the laughter died down. “He could react many different ways, but I can assure you one thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Harry.

“He won’t lash out at you in anger, and he most definitely won’t hate you. Telling him about Claire is probably the best thing you could give him, regardless if he wants to hear it or not. Just as telling Claire about Sirius was probably the best possible thing you could do for her, and it took you a long time to convince her to write to him.”

“Yeah...” Harry said, looking sulky. “But it wasn’t enough to get her to come back...to us...”

Remus gave Harry a very kind look. “It’s taken you a lot of courage to go through with something like this. You’ve allowed yourself the patience to deal with it the past two months, and you know it’s going to take a lot more time for something dramatic to happen.”

“I’m no matchmaker,” Harry said, almost sadly. “I just want them to be friends...just to talk to each other.”

“Who do you want to be friends?” said a deep voice from the doorway.

Harry, Hermione and Remus all jerked their heads to the door, where Sirius and Draco stood, their faces red from their walk in the cold weather. Sirius grinned at the guilty look on Harry and Hermione’s faces, and then his eyes landed on his oldest friend.

“Hullo, Sirius. Hello, Mr Malfoy,” Remus greeted brightly, standing up.

“Remus,” Sirius said, shaking his head back and forth, grinning. “I’d ask what brings you by, but I have a feeling that I'm about to find out...” he said, shooting Harry a sly look.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, Draco,” Hermione suggested lightly, giving Harry a pointed look.

Draco narrowed his eyes in polite puzzlement. “Alright...”

“That way,” Hermione added to Remus, “you three can talk.”

Remus smiled before nodding briefly, and Harry felt his stomach drop considerably. Hermione led a puzzled Draco out of the room and out of sight, while Sirius took a seat next to Harry.

“How are you, Remus? We talked...just yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Remus smiled at the pale look on Harry's face. “Yes, actually. And I’m perfectly fine. Although, I don’t believe I’ve seen Harry look so nauseated in all the time I’ve known him.”

Harry frowned at the grin on Remus’ face. How could he act so calm and collected? Why couldn’t some of that rub off on him? He felt as though there were a thousand garden snakes writhing and twisting inside his stomach, desperate to escape.

“Yes, I’ve been noticing that all day, to be honest,” Sirius admitted, his grin matching Remus’. “I have to admit...it’s got me quite curious.”

“Oh, bloody Hell,” Harry muttered, staring at the floor, feeling utterly helpless. “You’re both teasing me.”

Remus sighed, drawing Sirius’ attention to himself. “Actually, Sirius, part of the reason I’m here is because of what Harry needs to tell you. So the guilt lies on my shoulders as well.”

Sirius gave Remus a puzzled look. “Well now you’ve definitely gained my curiosity. What else have you been keeping from me?” he asked Harry.

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled, vanilla envelope. The name “Sirius” was written in neat handwriting across the front. He had been carrying it around with him all day, as a constant reminder.

“I’ve been keeping something from you for the past two months,” Harry told him, handing Sirius the envelope. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Claire White.”

Sirius stared at the envelope in his hand, his whole face going blank. But he hadn’t screamed at Harry in rage, or ripped the envelope into shreds, which gave Harry all the courage he needed, with a prompt nod from Remus.

“Do you remember that picture I found over the summer? In your room? I asked you about the girl in the photo, but you never gave me a straight answer. But I knew I recognized her from somewhere, and that’s when I looked in my old album. The one Hagrid gave me at the end of my first year. She was in a couple of pictures. One with my mother...and one with you. But I knew that you were never going to tell me anything about her, for whatever reasons you had. So I met with Remus one day, and he told me everything I needed to know. With a little encouragement, I managed to locate Claire, and with a little bit more encouragement, I wrote to her, and eventually... she wrote back.”

Harry took a moment to pause, trying to decipher some sort of emotion running through Sirius at that moment. But Sirius was so good at keeping his face blank, that Harry just couldn’t figure out his own godfather.

“She’s in Canada, Sirius. She’s been there for the past 16 years,” Remus said softly.

Harry looked at his former teacher, suddenly realising what this kind of news was doing to him, too. Though Claire White had been Sirius’ fiancée, she had also been one of Remus’ best friends. Harry hadn’t thought or even put any consideration into what he must be going through at the moment.

Sirius cleared his throat, finally looking up from the envelope, clutching it tightly, as though afraid it would suddenly vanish into thin air.

“Well...” he said, nodding slowly. “How did you find her?” he asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant, as though this sudden and new information did not affect him in the least.

But Harry knew better. He may be good at hiding his true feelings, but Harry also knew that Sirius was one of the most feeling people he knew. He could only imagine what was flowing through his godfather’s mind at the moment.

“I...went to Dumbledore. I figured if there was only one person on the planet who knew where she was, it’d be him,” Harry explained. “Listen, Sirius. I don’t know what’s in that letter, but I do know that Claire wanted me to explain a few things to you, just so she could get right to the point. Her parents were the ones who convinced her to move to Canada.”

Sirius sighed. “They had tried for years to drag her away from here...away from me...they always wanted to take her to Canada. That's where her parents are originally from. And their ambition only grew stronger once she graduated from Hogwarts. But Claire never wanted to move. So they stayed for her. Until...”

Sirius stopped, and Harry didn’t need to know what he was about to say. He knew what had finally driven Claire to move to Canada with her Muggle parents. But that, of course, was a story all on its own.

“She...she left the wizarding world, Sirius,” Harry continued, terrified of what this information might do to him. But he had promised Claire that he would tell him, no matter how painful.

“She snapped her wand?” Sirius asked, surprised. He was clutching the letter so tightly in his fist that his knuckles were turning white. His sapphire eyes suddenly darkened, making Harry jerk back slightly. A low growl escaped the older man’s throat, and he stood up, pacing back and forth as though needing to burn off this extra burst of anger.

“She didn’t snap her wand, Sirius,” Remus said quietly, looking at his old friend as though he knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling.

“Her parents never supported her!” Sirius exclaimed, his voice full of malice that Harry had only heard once, at the end of his third year, when they were face to face with Voldemort’s servant, Wormtail. “They only put up with it because Claire begged them, and they expected Claire to pull out. But as Claire spent more time at Hogwarts, she refused to listen to them. She was too happy at Hogwarts...And then...we happened.”

He said it so quietly, Harry had to strain his ears to listen. Was this what heartbreak sounded like? He didn’t like it, not at all. This was his godfather. He had already suffered 12 years in Azkaban. He didn’t deserve to lose his freedom as well as his true love and both at the same time! Sirius was too good for that. But it had happened. And the injustice of it all wanted to make Harry kick and scream, cursing everyone in the Ministry along the way. They had done this to him.

No, he corrected himself, Voldemort had done this to him.

“Remus told me all about it, Sirius,” Harry said softly.

Sirius looked sharply at Harry. “Did he? So he told you about Claire being my fiancée? Did he tell you that she was your godmother?”

“Is my godmother,” Harry corrected. “Just because I haven’t seen her in 16 years and can’t remember her at all, doesn’t take away from the fact that she was, is, and always will be my godmother. Just as you have always been my godfather. 12 years of being separated from each other didn't take away from that fact, either."

Harry couldn’t tell why he felt so strongly about his "relationship" with Claire. He had only been talking to her for a couple of short months, and only through owl-post, but he felt a very strong connection to her. He reasoned it probably had a lot to do with the fact that she was connected to the past he couldn’t remember... to the parents he never got to know.

“Yes,” Sirius said, nodding. “I wonder as well, what she’s doing writing by owl-post if she’s living the life of a Muggle?” he wondered.

“Even you can answer that one, Sirius,” Remus said, looking sadly at his old partner in mischief.

Sirius returned the look, shaking his head. “If she’s living her life as a Muggle, then she wants nothing to do with us. Or else she wouldn’t have left,” he said coldly.

“She had to leave!” Remus said, jumping up and coming to Claire’s defense instantly. “Don’t let your mind be your judgment, old friend,” he pleaded.

“And let my heart make all the decisions? Just like last time? We all know where that got us, Moony,” Sirius said bitterly.

“This is not like you. You’re forgetting that Claire is not at fault...no one is. If you're going to blame her, then you might as well blame me, too. We can’t change the past, but we can do something about the future!”

Harry watched the exchange between the two older wizards, utterly fascinated with where the conversation was going. What had Remus meant by being part of the blame?

“There is no future. Not with her. My future is here, with the school, the Ministry, and first and foremost, with Harry. If you want Claire back in your life, then by all means, be my guest.”

Remus sighed with a mixture of frustration and determination. "Why do you blame her, Sirius? She didn't do anything wrong."

“I don't blame her! And if you really need to know, I've gotten along fine without her while in Azkaban, during my escape, and even now, I'm doing perfectly fine. And I'm not having this conversation with you," he said abruptly, sounding as though he was regretting saying too much already.

“Why not?” Remus asked. “You’ve already started, and in my opinion, this is a conversation that's long past due.”

Sirius sighed, glancing down at the letter still clutched in his fist.

“She wouldn’t have written to you if she had something bad to say, Sirius. It’s worth it just to read. But if you don’t want to...that’s fine. Burn it for all we care,” Remus said. “But keep in mind that she did write. She’s leaving the Quaffle on your side of the Pitch now.”

Sirius still said nothing, still staring at the envelope. Harry took this time to jump in.

“In one way, when you think about it...it’s almost as if she wants to come back. Think about it logically. She’s been living her life as a Muggle for nearly two decades, and then she starts using the owl-post as though she were still a witch? It’s like she’s waiting for the right push to come back. I’m not enough for her to come back, and evidently, neither is Remus, but if all three of us were to do this together, that might be enough. Maybe she’s just waiting for you, Sirius.”

“She never wanted to move...I can’t believe her parents convinced her,” Sirius muttered.

“She wanted to stay,” Remus said quietly, sliding back into his seat, his eyes pale, the memories as clear to him as though it were happening all over again. “Did you know that she always knew you were innocent? Well, as sad as it is to say, she was the only one. After you were sentenced to life in prison without a trial, she realised there was no hope left. And during her moment of weakness, her parents pounced, and managed to convince her to leave with them, saying that there was nothing left for her. She didn't even want to say good-bye to me. I had to chase her down. That was when she gave me her wand -- and told me to dispose of it."

“Her parents always hated me. I was too much of a rebel for their taste...but I guess their worst thoughts were confirmed...when I was taken to Azkaban,” Sirius said, his eyes shining with that same faraway look. He looked at Remus. “So what did you do with her wand?”

Remus lowered his head, sighing deeply. “I kept it. I still have it. I always thought that she’d be back for it someday...but she never came.”

Sirius sat down in his own seat again, giving his friend a very thoughtful look.

“Sometimes I forget how that day destroyed you, too. First Lily and James, then me and Peter...the only person you had was Claire, and she left you as well. I’m sorry for it...for it all.”

Remus smiled crookedly, glancing at Harry then back at Sirius. “Well, whatever doesn’t kill us...” he said, grinning in spite of himself.

“I’ll read the letter,” Sirius confirmed for them both, and Harry’s heart hammered beneath his ribcage. “But I’ll read it later, when I have a moment to spare. As for now, I noticed there are some presents under the tree that still need to be opened!”

Harry had never enjoyed a Christmas dinner to its full capacity before. He thought that the Christmas dinners at Hogwarts were good, and they definitely were-- compared to Christmas dinner at the Dursleys. But now, as Harry looked all around him and at all the people seated on both sides of the long dinner table, he came to the decision that nothing could compare to a Weasley Christmas. He felt a swell of happiness building in his chest, and he knew at that moment that he was truly the luckiest wizard alive.

Hermione sat to his left, conversing with Leah and Mr Weasley. The older wizard seemed to be telling them an amusing story about Ron.

“He was just a baby when he showed his first sign of being a wizard,” Mr Weasley was saying with a trace of pride.

“What did he do?” Leah wondered, her hands clasped casually under her chin, looking very keen to hear the answer. On the other side of Leah, Ron's ears were turning pink, and he fidgeted in his seat.

“He set Bill’s head on fire,” Mr Weasley said, and at this Leah, Hermione, Bill, Harry, Mr and Mrs Weasley all burst out laughing.

“It was an accident!” Ron exclaimed. "I only made it smoulder a bit..." he added, and Harry had the distinct impression that this was a topic Mr Weasley had brought up on more than one occasion. It was also a story Mr Weasley liked to tell, just to embarrass his youngest son.

Leah placed a comforting hand on Ron's arm. He calmed down and struck up a new conversation with her, one that didn't inlcude his father.

That was Harry’s own calming effect, as everyone chatted together about one thing or another. Sirius (who sat to Harry’s right) and Remus (who sat diagonal from Sirius) were engaged in their own conversation, Hermione was chatting with Molly and Arthur, the twins were harassing Percy, who was sitting at the very end of the table. Bill (sitting on the other side of Sirius) chatted with Charlie, who sat at the other end of the table. The only one not saying a word was Ginny.

She stared at the bright, Christmas coloured table cloth, clutching her abdomen, as though she had a bad stomachache. Harry and Hermione had suggested that Ginny should fake being sick, so she could excuse herself from the table and sneak over to visit Draco, who was busy at the house setting up a table for two. So Ginny, taking the advice but wanting to make it look sincere, began to moan and gripe about a stomachache earlier in the afternoon.

Looking at Ginny at that moment, Harry could see that she really did look genuinely sick, and wondered if it was due to nerves. All this sneaking around must have been taking a physical, emotional and mental toll on her. He wondered, however briefly, if she was going to crack. But then he reminded himself that Ginny was as strong as they came. All of the Weasleys were, but Ginny seemed to carry more strength and integrity than any of them. Of course, Harry thought with a wry smile, it would take that kind of a person to handle Draco Malfoy. And then Harry thought that that probably went both ways.

Just then Mr Weasley raised both of his hands into the air, requesting silence. And immediately everyone at the table stopped talking.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” he exclaimed joyfully. With the clap of his hands, the empty dishes on the table filled to the brim with food. A large turkey appeared in the middle of the table, potatoes, stuffing, all sorts of vegetables and other food that Mrs Weasley had been preparing all day appeared all around them. The sweet aroma was making Harry’s stomach gurgle in protest. He suddenly couldn’t remember when he had last eaten. All that mattered was stuffing himself as much as possible with all the food that was on the table.

“This is great, Mrs Weasley,” Harry sighed, before shoveling some turkey into his mouth. Hermione nudged him, frowning in a reproving way. Apparently she didn’t appreciate his eating habits. He grinned back at her from one cheek to the other, with a mouth stuffed with turkey. She rolled her eyes at him before spooning some sweet potato into her mouth.

“It was well worth it, dear,” Molly said gratefully. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“The Hogwarts food is shabby in comparison,” Harry confirmed for the older woman.

“Don’t let Dobby hear you saying that,” Hermione cautioned, waving her fork around for emphasis.

“Now, dear,” Mrs Weasley said to Harry. “What are your plans for the future?”

“Molly, honey...” Mr Weasley said, shooting his wife a warning look.

“I’m allowed to ask, Arthur,” Molly insisted, glaring at her husband, who suddenly seemed to be interested in what the twins were talking about.

“Er,” Harry said, not sure of the nature of the question. “I plan to...graduate...”

“I meant after Hogwarts, Harry dear. What are you going to do with your life?”

Harry knew he should have had an answer ready, but the truth was, he never really thought about it. On one hand, he didn’t want to think of a future that didn’t include Hogwarts. On the other hand, his future was with Hermione, so what he did for a living didn’t seem to be one of his main concerns. Of course, that didn’t stop other people from telling him what he should do with his life. Some people thought he was cut out to be an Auror, others thought he should be a Professor. The twins were constantly trying to get him into their joke shop and Hagrid was always trying to convince him to get into the Magical Creature business.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly, not at all feeling the pressure of the question, as nowadays he was getting it more and more. “I haven’t put much thought into it.”

“Harry!” Molly exclaimed. “You only have a few short months before you decide. What happens when you graduate when you still have no idea what you want to do?”

Harry gave Molly a serene smile. “Oh,” he said, turning his smile to Hermione, whose interested face glowed with affection for him. “I reckon we’ll do just fine.”

Late that night when Harry returned to his home with Sirius, Remus and Hermione, they found Draco and Ginny on the sofa in the living room, chatting away animatedly. Harry loved watching them together. It gave him reassurance that he was right in helping Ginny. Not that he needed it. What he had seen earlier in Draco’s room was all the reassurance he would ever need.

Harry walked Ginny home, stopping in front of her house, still standing on the driveway so no one could overhear their conversation.

“Don’t you think your parents will get a little suspicious if they see you walking through the front door?” Harry asked her anxiously.

Ginny waved a hand, dismissing the idea immediately. “I’ll just tell them I needed some fresh air. Once I walk in and they see that I’m feeling better, they won’t care that I was outside. They’ll just assume that the fresh air did me some good after all.”

She sounded as though lying to her parents didn’t bother her, but Harry knew she was worried and sick to death of the need to lie. She frowned, looking anxious herself.

“What kind of a person am I if I can lie to my parents so frequently and so easily, Harry?” she whispered, her eyes glossing over with tears.

Harry didn’t say anything, and instead pulled her into his arms, hoping to chase away all the doubt and sadness in her life. Ginny sobbed quietly onto his shoulder as he rubbed her back and placed a kiss on the top of her head. A moment later she pulled back and looked up at him.

“Thanks, Harry. For everything. You and Hermione are two of the most amazing and understanding people in the world. Just one thing; what you said at the table, about your future...you said ‘we’ll do just fine.’ So you’re really serious about her, huh?”

Harry drew back, looking at her thoughtfully. “I never even realised I said it like that. But yes, I’m dead serious about her. She’s my other half, Ginny. Just as Draco is yours, right?”

Ginny nodded, another tear sliding down her cheek. “Were you ever scared, Harry? When you and Hermione first began? Did the thought of how much you loved her scare you so much that it left you in a panic? Like you’d be lost without her?” she said softly.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. He ran a thumb across her cheek to wipe away the tear and he nodded fervently. “I still feel that way. That feeling never goes away, Ginny. At least, I hope it never does.”

Ginny nodded in agreement, and she spoke with a desperation that shocked Harry.

“I’ve felt that way, I still feel that way, and if anything, it only gets stronger. When you love someone, how can you love them more than you already do? How is it possible?”

Harry looked at her with a brotherly sort of affection. “I don’t know, Ginny. And maybe that's a good thing, that we don't know the answer to that mystery. But I do know that there are a lot of things that are possible now because of Hermione. Things I never knew I would experience.” And then another thought hit Harry.

“Are you having doubts?” he asked her suddenly.

She shook her head, pulling her hair back. “I’m so frightened, Harry,” she whispered shrilly, her eyes welling up with tears again. “I’m scared because I love him, because I’m not supposed to love him, because I’m lying to my whole family. And I’m scared that if I ever tell them about us, they’ll never let me see him ever again... and as much as I love my family, and you and Hermione...Leah,” she added, “my life would be over. I know that sounds awful... but I can’t help but feel that if he was suddenly wiped away from my life, if I could never see him again, then...” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“As much as you may not believe it Ginny, I do understand. I know exactly what you mean. And for the record, your parents can’t prevent you from seeing him. First of all, they’re not like that. They love you too much to ruin your life like that. They’re not controlling, and they would never make you live a life that you’d never want to lead. They love you Ginny. And when the time comes to tell them, they'll find a way to support you. If I can do it, if Hermione can do it, then so can the people who have known you and loved you your whole life. That's what family is all about."

Ginny didn’t say anything, but she looked less anxious anyhow, which satisfied Harry.

“Now get back inside, before you do get sick,” Harry ordered her, and Ginny looked back up at him with a brighter smile lighting up her face. He smiled in return. “Now that looks like the Ginny I know,” he said.

Ginny gave an involuntary sniffle, whether it was due to her crying or the actual cold, Harry didn’t know. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Harry. Probably’d go mad,” she said.

“We’ll keep each other sane, how about that?” suggested Harry, smiling.

Ginny threw herself into his arms, and he returned the embrace, hoping that he had given her the reassurance that she had needed.

“Merry Christmas, bro. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, backing away slowly.

“Not if I see you first, sis. Good night,” he called, as she turned around and ran the rest of the way up the driveway to the Burrow.

He made sure she was at the door, waited for her to wave and enter the house before he turned and made his way back to his own house, his thoughts drifting on happy thoughts.

When Harry returned to his home, sleeping arrangements were made. Hermione would take Harry’s room, Remus would take Sirius’ room, and Draco would remain in the spare bedroom. Sirius and Harry, having no other choice, were perfectly content to camp out in the living room.

After everyone had gone to bed, Sirius cleared the floor and conjured mattresses and blankets for them to sleep on. After getting into their pajamas they laid down in their new beds, and as long and busy as Harry’s day was, he didn’t find himself the least bit tired. There were too many unsettled thoughts floating around in his brain. Most of them concerned his godfather.

A few more moments of silence passed, and then Sirius said, “Is there something bothering you?”

Harry smiled into the darkness. Sirius could be extremely perceptive when he wanted to be.

“With Draco being here, I still don’t know how you really feel about it. And even though you were really nice to him earlier, I still can’t help but worry that you’re going to curse me in my sleep,” Harry said, slightly joking.

Sirius laughed through his nose. “I won’t curse you, Harry. And to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have been nice to Draco if I didn’t want to be.”

“Oh. So you’re not angry with me? Wait a minute,” Harry said quickly, “why would you want to be nice to Draco?”

Sirius laughed even harder now, covering his mouth to muffle the sound so as not to wake everyone upstairs.

“I’m taking a page from your book,” Sirius told him, finally calming down enough to speak.

“My book? I don’t get it...” Harry puzzled.

His godfather looked at him in all seriousness. “You showed real integrity bringing Draco Malfoy here, Harry. And knowing that you did it for Ginny, and gave of yourself so willingly, it made me realise how truly proud of you I am.

“And not just because of your amazing magical abilities, but because of the kind of person you really are. You have a good heart, and while I’m always proud of you for everything that you do, whether it’s for your friends, family, the school, you manage to shock and surprise me every time I turn around.

“You may not see it now, Harry, but by letting Draco stay here, that’s going to lead your life down a very different path. You’ll see it someday, years from now. The goodness does triumph, and you’ve proven that to everyone here today.”

Harry felt too stunned to speak. He had never thought that he would gain anything from bringing Draco here. He was simply thinking of making Ginny happy. That was the one thing that was carrying him through with the plan.

“So tell me, Harry. I’m curious to know; you and Draco don’t seem to hate each other any more at all. Why?”

Harry didn’t hesitate in answering. It was as though he had been waiting for this question, and wanted nothing more than to answer it just to prove to Sirius that he had made the right decision.

“Like I said earlier, Draco’s not the same person he once was. Everyone deserves a second chance, and I think that Draco really wanted this second chance. He doesn’t have a good life at home. And everyone is always stuck on this idea that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But Draco can break that cycle. He doesn’t need to follow in his father’s footsteps, he doesn’t want to. At first, I was worried that he was simply using Ginny. But after seeing them together, Sirius; I know perfectly well that he can’t possibly be pretending to love Ginny. That’s why I trust him now.”

Harry paused a moment, letting the words sink in. He wanted his guardian to take him seriously.

“Just because Lucius Malfoy was a Slytherin, a Death Eater, and Merlin knows what else, doesn’t mean that Draco has to be the same way. Blood doesn’t count for that much. Take you and me for example.”

“What about us?” Sirius wondered, incredulous.

Feeling embarrassed and flustered, Harry answered. “You’re the only father that I’ve ever truly known, and we’re not blood related. The Durselys are my only living relatives, and they hated me with a passion. You’ve cared for me more than any other adult, and that makes you my father in every sense of the word.”

More silence followed. Then Sirius spoke in a very choked voice. “You really feel that way?”

Feeling more relieved than foolish, Harry replied, “Yes. I’ve always felt that way.”

The two smiled at each other, and Harry was relieved to find that his mind wasn’t full of worries or bad thoughts any more. Knowing that his godfather was not upset with him was a relief all on its own.

A few minutes later, when Harry was sure that Sirius was asleep, he whispered, ‘Goodnight, dad.”

Another moment passed, the silence deafening in the darkness as Harry felt sleep taking over. But before he surrendered to it, he heard the voice of his godfather, blissfully comforting in the darkness, warming him to his very core.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter 14: Friendly Advice...All Around
Author:Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Once everyone is back to Hogwarts, things appear to be back to normal. That is, until Harry and Hermione are faced with a brand new challenge...
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. Leah York belongs to me, but I borrowed her name from the REAL Leah. And the REAL Leah does NOT belong to me.

Special Thanks: First and foremost, to Gary Skinner, for EVERYTHING he's EVER done for me. (Including putting up with my incessant ramblings). Next, to Leah, for reading the chapter a loooooooong time ago and giving me enough courage to go on with the story.

Author's Note: Mmm Hmm. They don't call me "slacker" for nothing. I meant to post this chapter (and a few more) over the weekend, since I had all this time off. And then I was like..."Whoa...why post when I can... watch Finding Nemo a hundred times?" And now that you know where my priorities lie (that was sarcasm, guys), I'll leave you with this one chapter, and I hope to post the next one within the next few days. Thanks for the very kind reviews. It's nice to feel appreciated! **Sniffle**

"I shall call him Squishy, and he shall be mine, and he shall be my squishy."
~Dory, Finding Nemo

Harry looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet as Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Ginny sat to Harry's right side, oblivious to everyone in the hall (besides a certain blond Slytherin who was now sitting at his own table) and Ron sat across from Harry, grinning stupidly from ear to ear to himself. It was this Hermione noticed as she took her seat next to Ron.

"Don't we look cheerful this morning," Hermione observed to the youngest male Weasley.

"And why shouldn't I be?" Ron countered as he nibbled on a piece of toast, unable to contain the wide smile.

Harry smirked at Hermione as she helped herself to scrambled eggs and toast. She gave a shrug. "No reason," she replied just as quickly. She halted, then looked at Ron curiously again. "So...is there a specific reason for your obvious ... light-hearted mood?"

Ron merely grinned again, lowering his toast and finally turning to her. "We did win that match on Saturday," he reminded her, raising his voice an octave in hopes that the Slytherins would overhear him.

"Ron, that was two days ago!" Hermione hissed, rolling her eyes. "You can't seriously still be on a high."

"Oh... that's where you're wrong, my friend," Ron replied coolly. "I still haven't had a chance to rub it in Malfoy's stinking face that we won."

Ginny's fork slipped from her hand to the floor, the loud clanging sound mixing with the chatter and noises resounding in the Great Hall. Harry shot the youngest Weasley a short look, and bent down to retrieve the fork, handing it back to her. Ginny, grinning sheepishly, tapped her wand to the fork and muttered a simple cleaning Charm and then she continued eating her breakfast.

"And you really think he's going to care about anything you have to say?" Hermione pointed out to Ron.

"Maybe not..." Ron admitted. "But revenge is sweet! What comes around goes around! You know all the regular cliches. They all apply, Hermione dear."

"You could try being the bigger person, Ron. You know Malfoy...he's not going to care that he lost to you," Hermione said kindly, trying a new angle.

"I don't think he really got a good look at my Nimbus 3000," Ron continued while ignoring Hermione.

"Oh, I noticed it," said a cold voice. Draco Malfoy stood directly behind Ron, sharing a venemous glare with Harry. Harry observed a shiny glint coming from his left earlobe. Ginny's Christmas present to him, the diamond stud, and Draco wore it proudly. It was simply another small detail to add to the list of things which had once shocked Harry about the Slytherin boy.

"Did you, now?" Ron replied, just as coldly. "I believe it's ranked higher than the Nimbus 2001, am I correct?"

"What difference does it make if you can't even fly it?" Draco responded, his cold grey eyes glancing between Ron, Harry and Hermione.

"I wouldn't talk, Malfoy," Harry said softly. "You seem to have forgotten who lost the last game."

Draco's top lip curled and his eyes narrowed maliciously. "Well, I'm sure I'd be shown favoritism as well, if I had an ugly scar on my forehead. But as it is--"

"I wouldn't finish that thought if I were you, Malfoy," Ron interrupted, a threatening tone in his voice.

At this point they had gathered quite a bit of attention from the Gryffindor table. Anyone within earshot had stopped eating and talking, and watched keenly to see if anything interesting would transpire between Malfoy and his regular foes.

"What are you going to do about it?" Draco wondered, his eyes shooting from Harry to the red-head.

"Not him. Me," said a new voice. Sirius Black stood behind Draco, a stern look distorting his usually handsome and friendly face. Suddenly everyone at the table didn't seem to be interested in watching anymore. They knew now that nothing was going to happen.

"Hello, Professor Black," Draco greeted mockingly. "We were just discussing Saturday's game."

"Well, it's certainly good to see you all getting along," Sirius replied, shooting a glance at Harry and then returning his eyes to Draco. "Don't you have a class to attend, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco tossed Harry another dark look before sweeping out of the Great Hall. Sirius then turned to Ron.

"And as for you, Mr Weasley... "

"I know, I know. I started it," Ron muttered.

"Alright. But don't forget all those times Draco made you feel small to make himself look and feel better. It doesn't give you the right to do the same to him," Sirius said calmly, before leaving the Great Hall as well.

"Oh, that's swell," Ron muttered, spearing a sausage onto his fork. "I sure showed Malfoy. Well, at least things seem to be back to normal," he added thoughtfully.

"Normal?" Harry asked curiously.

"You know...You remember how odd Malfoy was acting before the holidays. He barely said two words to you, other than that one time in Trelawney's class. Heck, he barely said anything to me! I'm just saying... He's acting like the Malfoy we're used to," Ron explained.

"Oh...well...Maybe his father whipped him into shape over the holidays," Harry suggested, and felt Ginny's arm twitch next to him.

Ron shook his head and swallowed down his food. "He didn't go home, remember? We didn't even see him on the train."

"Well, that's odd," said Seamus Finnigan, who sat two seats from Harry, and had evidently been listening in on their conversation.

"What's odd?" asked Ron, and Harry felt that he knew what Seamus was going to say next.

"Malfoy wasn't here either, was he, Dean?" Seamus said, nodding to the darker skinned Gryffindor. "We both stayed behind this year. Mum and Dad went on their second honeymoon, and Dean stayed to keep me company. Anyway, we would have seen Malfoy if he had stayed behind."

"He's right," Dean added for emphasis. "We never saw him."

Ron frowned. "Well, he could have stayed locked up in his room," he offered.

Seamus and Dean both shook their heads. "Not a possibility," said Seamus. "Two weeks of staying locked up in his room? No...Malfoy's not that weird. He had to eat sometime, right?"

Ron sighed in annoyance. "Well, what do I care where he spent the holidays? It has nothing to do with me! Anyway, Harry," Ron said, changing the subject. "When's the next Quidditch practice?"

Later that night Harry and Hermione sat together in the semi-occupied common room, enjoying the freedom of not having to do Head Boy and Girl duties while the moment lingered. Since their return to Hogwarts three weeks ago, school had become painfully exhausting. Everything from classes, to Quidditch, to duties were enough to push Harry down into the ground. And now he not only had to keep Ginny's relationship with Draco a secret, but he had to put on the act of despising the Slytherin boy, when in fact, he could now call Draco a friend. He was no longer an enemy, no longer just a mere acquaintance. The holidays had drawn them both closer than either of them had anticipated.

It had been Sirius' and Remus' suggestion for Harry and Draco to go back to their original antics. The two adults seemed to realise that if they continued on in the direction they were heading, then Ron would most definitely get suspicious. And that was something Harry wanted to avoid at all costs, so he and Draco had both agreed to it. And Harry had to admit (now that he was just pretending to hate Draco), it was slightly amusing.

And now that the holidays were over, there were new things to seriously worry about. Harry and the rest of his fellow 7th years were now steadily preparing for their N.E.W.T.'s, which were to be taken at the end of the year. He knew that at least Ron hadn't started studying. And Hermione was the only one he knew for sure who had.

Presently, Hermione leaned into Harry's strong and comforting body, her head resting on his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head. His hand was draped over her right one, his thumb lightly tracing the ring she wore on the finger next to her pinky. He felt the smooth, intricate design of the silver and gold band, and the three symbols of Trust, Loyalty and Love, which bonded their symbol of eternal love. Harry remembered the story of how Hermione had nearly lost the ring, and his heart leapt with anxiousness.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione wondered, feeling his body stiffen beneath her. His thumb rested protectively on her ring.

"I was just thinking about what you told me...about your ring...and how you couldn't find it..."

"And you were wondering how I could be so careless?" Hermione finished.

Harry kissed the top of her head as she craned her neck to look up at him. "I wouldn't put it that way, Hermione."

She laughed softly. "Well, it's how I put it. And you don't have to worry about it anymore. After I found my ring, I charmed it with the Impervius Charm, so now I don't have to take it off for any reason at all. I no longer have to worry about getting disgusting frog guts all over it, since all such things will forever be repelled!"

Harry stared into her eyes, amazed that she could surprise him at every turn. That was one of the things he loved so much about her.

"Clever little witch, aren't you?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Hermione grinned. "I feel so awful that I was so carefree with this ring, when it means the world to me. But I've taken the proper steps to ensure that I'll never lose it. So you have nothing to worry about."

Harry sighed with relief, running his hand through her thick, brown hair. "I love you so much," he told her. He kissed her softly on the mouth, concluding his thoughts on the matter.

Just then Ron came crawling through the portrait hole, looking haggard and flustered.

"Stupid library. Stupid Madam Pince," he grumbled. He eyed Harry and Hermione sitting on the sofa as they looked up towards the entrance, and he approached them.

"Having fun studying?" Harry asked delicately.

Ron's face suddenly flushed a deep crimson, and it took only a moment for Harry to figure out why, as Leah York came in a few seconds later, her face blotched, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. She spotted Ron and amazingly enough, their faces turned an even deeper shade of red. There was definitely an air of awkwardness about them, and Harry instantly knew why.

"You have got to be kidding me!" he cried out in amusement.

Hermione's mouth dropped in realisation, as she sat up from Harry's arms instantly. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

"That depends on what you think it is," Leah said quietly; her blue eyes, normally a deep shade, were alarmingly bright and alert.

"Don't bother," Ron told the dark haired 5th year. "They can read me like a book."

"You and Leah..." Harry said in awe, staring from one embarrassed face to the other.

"Were in the library..." Hermione continued, as she perched herself on her knees.

"Doing a little quiet study time..." Harry added slyly as he mimicked Hermione behind her, wrapping his arms around her entire frame. She placed her two hands on his arms, still grinning from ear-to-ear at the horrified expression on Leah's face, and the knowing one on Ron's.

"And you both decided to take a stroll down one of the aisles, supposedly looking for a book..." she continued.

"But we all know that you would never deliberately go looking for a book," Harry pointed out logically, and Hermione nodded knowingly in agreement.

"So instead you pulled Leah to the back of the library..."

"And we got caught by Madam Pince for snogging our brains out, ALRIGHT?!" Ron exclaimed.

The light buzz floating around the common room died down instantly, as each curious head turned towards Ron.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Ron snapped irritably, and everyone, no longer interested, returned to their conversations.

Harry and Hermione burst into laughter, amused by the expression of embarrassment crossing Ron's and Leah's faces.

"Oh, come on!" Leah exclaimed, quickly getting over the awkward moment. "I suppose you two are going to say you've never been caught doing anything you weren't supposed to be doing?"

Harry and Hermione paused their laughter, considering the question. They exchanged a thoughtful look, sharing a secret smile.

"That's for us to know," Hermione answered, turning back to Leah. Then she winked at the younger girl and whispered, "I'll tell you about it later."

"You will not!" Harry replied hotly, staring at the back of Hermione's head. He could preactically feel Hermione's mischievous grin.

"Of course not, sweety," she cooed, patting his leg gently. Leah grinned and smiled at Ron before leaving for her dorm.

Ron flopped down in the empty armchair, sighing. "You both are complete prats, you know that? By the way, McGonagall wants to see you."

Harry sighed deeply. "I suppose she didn't tell you why?"

Ron shook his head. "Not that she would need to. She probably needs you to sort out some detention. You know how it is."

"Well, looks like quiet time is over," Hermione said sadly, as she stood up, dragging Harry up with her.

"See you later!" Ron called after them.

"You wanted to see us, Professor?"

Harry and Hermione stood in the doorway of McGonagall's office.

"I was looking for you, but it's Professor Dumbledore who wants to have a word with you both. You know the way?"

"Of course, Professor. Thank you," Harry said, and they both left, hand-in-hand.

"What do you think Dumbledore wants with us that McGonagall can't tell us to do? Do you think we did something wrong?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"No, I don't think so. McGonagall would have dealt with us if that were the case. And more importantly, we didn't do anything wrong," Harry assured her.

They found the gargoyle leading to Dumbledore's office, gave the password, (Butter Tart), and found themselves on the circulating staircase that would take them straight to Dumbledore.

Harry knocked on the door in front of them, and heard Dumbledore's voice calling for them to come in.

"Hello, Headmaster. You wanted to see us?" Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled at them both, making them feel entirely welcome and at ease.

"To put your minds at rest, I can assure you that you are not in trouble," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with warmth and caring.

"Is it about a student?" Harry asked curiously.

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed it is. It concerns the both of you. Please, have a seat." Harry and Hermione both sat down in the cushy chairs Dumbledore motioned to which sat in front of the older wizard's desk. "Can I offer you a drink? Butter tarts? I fear I have grown quite fond of them."

Harry smiled. "We're fine, Professor."

"Suit yourselves," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, and he conjured a butter tart with a wave of his wand. He nibbled on it, while Harry and Hermione waited patiently.

"Oh, of course," Dumbledore said suddenly. "I suppose I should get to the point. I've taken the liberty to update myself on your current situation."

"Situation?" Hermione wondered, exchanging a baffled expression with Harry.

"Your class marks," Dumbledore emphasized with a smile. "But I was only concerned with your grades from your Defense Against the Dark Arts class," he said, clasping his hands together and peering at them with a long, penetrating look.

Harry suddenly felt very anxious. If Dumbledore was thinking of getting rid of Sirius because of their relationship, he wouldn't allow it. Sirius wasn't a distraction! If anything, Harry was doing well in that class. He had to be. Unless...maybe Dumbledore believed that Sirius was playing favorites? But that couldn't be right...

Dumbledore was looking very closely at Harry, watching him as his thoughts rambled on incoherently.

"Relax, Harry," he finally said. "It isn't what you think."

"May I ask what this is about?" Hermione wondered earnestly. Harry guessed the same thoughts were circling through her mind, too.

"You may," Dumbledore said, smiling. "You both are doing exceptionally well in that class. I know that Sirius isn't showing favoritism, Harry. You've always had top marks in the Defense class, higher than anyone else, in fact, over the past six and some years."

"I don't understand," Harry said quietly.

"Maybe I can clarify a few things," said Sirius Black. He stepped into the room from another entrance that Harry had never noticed before.

"Hullo, Sirius," Harry greeted, his confusion increasing.

"We've been thinking it over," Sirius said, standing next to Dumbledore. "And it's taken us a while to finally come to a decision, but in the end there's no other way. How would you two like to take on some extra-credit?"

Harry's head swam. "Extra-credit? What does it involve?" he wondered. He noticed a strange look in his godfather's eyes. It matched Dumbledore's expression, and this only fueled Harry's messed up, incoherent thoughts and questions.

"It involves a lot of hard work, and very little free time to yourselves, should you take this on," Sirius explained.

Harry stared hard at the dark-haired man, trying to see if he could read his mind. But nothing came.

"I would very much like to emphasize that we do not want you to feel obligated. If you choose not to go through with this, we will support you, one way or the other," Dumbledore added as an after-thought.

"What is it?" asked Harry calmly, not sure if he could handle taking on something extra, with everything else on his plate.

"We want to give you Auror Training," Sirius said.

Hermione's eyes widened, and Harry felt both a burst of excitement and a feeling of impending doom settling in his stomach. To be trained as an Auror! He hadn't seen that one coming, and there were many who believed he was cut out for it. But he knew what kind of training they went through. It wasn't exactly a picnic at the beach.

"Auror Training?" Harry repeated in amazement. "Isn't that a little...rash?"

"Maybe you could explain to us why we would need to be given Auror Training," Hermione suggested calmly. Her eyes met with Harry's and he instinctively reached for her hand, linking his fingers through hers.

Sirius smiled. "For one, you both have the highest marks in the Defense class, and you both show more potential to be trained than any other student in this school."

"But we're still students," Hermione pointed out. "Surely the Ministry wouldn't agree with it?"

"They have. Which is why it's taken us so long to bring it up to you. We wanted to make sure you'd be allowed before approaching you with the idea," Sirius told them.

"So that's the only reason for the training?" Harry wondered. "Because we have top marks?"

Dumbledore sighed, drawing the attention of the small company to himself. "In spite of all our efforts to protect this school, Harry...to protect you...we know our limits. There are some things we are powerless to prevent, as I'm sure you've realised. Even though Voldemort was defeated last year, there are Death Eaters who still remain very alive, and continue to blame you for their master's death."

Harry looked at Hermione, his mind drifting to the predictions, and how they seemed to be leading up to something. He and Hermione had spent many nights talking over Harry's visions, and they had both decided to keep them quiet for the time-being. And even so, Harry and Hermione had expressed their concern that the visions (and their clues), could mean the return of Voldemort. And now it seemed to Harry that Dumbledore and Sirius were fearing that exact possibility.

"The point of the Auror Training," Dumbledore continued, "is to prepare you for what might come. Anything can happen."

"Remember the Triwizard Tournament, Harry. Voldemort was working right under our noses, and no one caught onto anything," Sirius reminded them. "That should give you some insight to how he works. As his prime target, Harry, you need to be prepared. And you, Hermione, need to be just as equally prepared. When you consider that Harry is Voldemort's sworn enemy, and that you've associated yourself with him--"

"I understand," Hermione said, squeezing Harry's fingers gently.

"A part of the Auror training will include Apparation," Sirius added as he watched his godson closely, waiting for some sort of sign, whether it be positive or negative.

Hermione looked up at this statement. "The Ministry--"

"--Has agreed," Sirius cut in quickly. "They have agreed to all the terms, Hermione."

"But we're underage! I thought all students have to wait until after graduation to receive an Apparation license," Hermione pointed out.

"And that hasn't stopped them from allowing you to train to become Aurors," Sirius responded. "Just consider it to be a part of the whole package."

Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to think or what to feel, beyond confusion. Deep down he knew this was something he wanted to do, something he could do--if it helped to protect those around him.

"It would put my mind at ease to know that you both will be able to protect yourselves," Sirius added, dropping the professor act, and looking at them with fatherly kindness.

Harry exchanged a single look with Hermione in order to decipher how she felt about the situation, without verbally asking her. After a moment he nodded shortly and turned back to Dumbledore and Sirius.

"When do we start?"

"You--you're kidding me, right?"

After the meeting with Dumbledore and Sirius, Harry and Hermione had dragged Ron off to Hermione's private bedroom to tell him the news. And as always, there was a very dumbfounded look on his face. Harry and Hermione knew that the Auror Training would have to be kept a secret from the rest of the students. But they had requested one small exception, and that was to tell Ron. It was bad enough they had to keep Draco and Ginny a secret from him, they didn't want to have to make up more lies to tell their best friend. Dumbledore (thankfully) had agreed to it.

"It was Sirius' idea. You must have confirmed it for him when you told him that Mad-Eye (and here Harry did an air-quotation mark movement with his fingers) thought we'd make good Aurors," Harry said.

If at all possible, Ron's mouth dropped even further. "I--I--"

"You're the only person who can know, Ron," Hermione said, almost pleadingly. "That means you can't tell Ginny, or the rest of your family, or Leah. No one can know."

Ron's mouth snapped shut and he looked at them with the utmost sincerity. "I can't believe this...you guys...Aurors..."

"We can hardly believe it either, and I'm not too sure it's anything to brag about," said Harry. "Sirius and Dumbledore were sure to remind us how difficult the training is going to be."

Ron nodded slowly. "OK...You guys know you can trust me...but I still can't believe this. Will this take time out of your classes?"

Hermione sighed. "Sometimes. But apparently all the professors are aware, so they won't ask any questions."

"What makes you think the other kids won't notice their Head Boy and Girl missing from lessons, and both at the same time?" Ron asked them.

"Chances are they won't care that we're missing. And we can just use our N.E.W.T.'s as an excuse, right? We'll just say we're off studying," Harry said calmly.

"Any excuse will fly, really," Hermione pointed out.

"But there is an even more important reason why we wanted to tell you, Ron," Harry said, drawing a deep breath.

Ron stared at them expectantly.

"As for Quidditch--" Harry began.

"You're not leaving the team!" Ron exclaimed, jumping off Hermione's bed where he had been sitting.

Harry smiled warmly. "No...I'm not leaving the team. Sit down, Ron," he urged softly.

Ron did as he was told, looking at Harry curiously. "What is it?"

"I have a lot on my plate, with school, N.E.W.T.'s, Auror Training and Quidditch. I just don't have enough time for everything anymore. There's no way I can juggle all these things without at least one thing suffering. And as much as I love Quidditch, and our team, I feel that you guys deserve a Captain who can be there for the team, whenever they need him. Someone who can make the best possible decisions for the team... We need a true leader."

"But you are all those things!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry's face softened and he shook his head slowly. "No I'm not, Ron. Maybe I was at some point... Don't get me wrong. I love the team, and I love being Captain, but we need someone who can give everything the team needs. So... what do you say, Ron?"

Ron stared at Harry as though he had just suggested they should swap girl friends. He shook his head slowly, looking at Hermione for confirmation. But this was a decision that she had nothing to do with. As much as she didn't want Harry giving up his role on the team, a part of her knew that Harry truly had no choice.

"Why would you want me to take over? I'm just a Keeper... I --"

"You're the best person for the job. Of course, I alone can't make this decision. The whole team has to agree. I just wanted to toss the idea in the air. But I know for a fact that once I step down, everyone will turn to you," Harry insisted.

Ron shook his head again, this time with a little bit more urgency. "No... I--I thank you Harry, but you're wrong. There's only one person on the team fit to take over as Captain. The mother of our team."

Harry's eyes widened as realisation dawned on him. "The glue that holds us together," he said.

"Do you think Ginny would want to?" Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but just as instantly a new thought came into his mind. Ginny was the mother of the team. She was the person whom everyone relied on to keep things cooled down. And she knew everyone on the team on a very personal level, and always knew how to make anyone new feel welcome on the team.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Harry," Ron continued, "the Quidditch season is over in a few months, and graduation will be another month after that. What's the point in sticking me in the spot? Ginny, at least, will be here for another year. That gives her enough time to get used to it this term."

Harry found himself looking at Ron with renewed respect. "Are you sure about this, Ron?"

Ron smiled reassuringly. "'Course I'm sure. Besides, I have N.E.W.T.'s coming up, too. I'm gonna need all the time I can get if I'm going to scrape up some good marks."

Harry sighed with finality. "Alright. We'll hold a team meeting tomorrow, and...tell the team about the small change."

"It'll be OK, Harry," Hermione said sweetly. "Once they realise Ginny will be taking over, they'll find that change isn't so bad after all."

Harry grinned at her. "I'm not sure if that's supposed to make me feel better or not," he replied, feeling miserable on the inside.

Harry couldn't sleep. The end of the week was drawing to a close, and this weekend would be the last free weekend he'd have for a while. His and Hermione's Auror Training would begin on Monday. And though he was excited, he couldn't help but be a little bit nervous, anxious, even. He still had no idea who would be in charge of training them. And he had no idea where they would be trained. He had a thought that it would have to be outside of the school grounds, so they could keep the training hushed up from students in the school. It would also help for when they began their Apparation training, since it was impossible to Apparate inside the school grounds.

Harry found himself wandering the school halls late on a Friday night. The whole school was so silent and serene, Harry was tempted to curl up on a set of stairs and pass out then and there. But he'd never dare. Not when the staircases moved, and ghosts roamed the halls (luckily, Peeves the Poltergeist was nowhere to be seen). And Harry gave a start of surprise when his godfather turned a corner into the very corridor he was walking.

"Sirius?"

The dark-haired man stopped in his tracks and did a double take. "Harry? What are you doing up?"

Harry shrugged, making his way to the older wizard. "Couldn't sleep. What about you?"

They met and continued down a different corridor, walking side-by-side. "That's not important," Sirius answered, looking sidelong at his godson. "Are you nervous about Monday?"

Harry gave a short laugh. "I'm trying not to be...but I guess it's easy to get nervous over the unknown. Are you sure we're going to do OK?" Harry asked.

"I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, would I?" said Sirius, grinning slightly.

"Yeah, you'd think so. But are you sure your faith in me isn't a little on the unrealistic side?" Harry wondered.

Sirius gave Harry a pointed look, his eyes narrowed with mild impatience. "You know, I placed my faith in Hermione, too. And have you ever known me to make a decision without a damn good reason?"

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, shrugging helplessly. "I know that you want to protect Hermione and me, but how can we protect ourselves from an invisible enemy?"

Sirius sighed. "For one, if I'm going to place my faith in you, you have to do the same for me and trust that I know what I'm doing. And for two, you need to stop worrying.”

“That’s not a good answer,” Harry pointed out.

“It’s an answer,” Sirius replied with a smile.

As they walked along, a silence fell, neither of them truly wanting to continue the conversation regarding Auror training or the enemy. Though Harry’s mind was alert with anxiousness over what was to come, he suddenly realised that he hadn’t truly thought of Sirius and his plight over the Claire White situation in quite some time. Taking Remus’ advice to heart, Harry had deliberately not asked his godfather about the letter, and he silently prayed that Sirius would come to him when he was ready. In the weeks that had proceeded since Christmas, neither the letter nor Claire had been brought up, and Harry was suddenly wrought with desperation to hear what Sirius thought of it all.

“I know it’s been a while since we talked..." Sirius began. "About Claire, I mean," he added, bringing up the topic as though by some sheer will of thought.

Harry looked sideways to the older man, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and expectancy. Now that Sirius had brought up the topic, did he truly want to hear what he had to say?

Harry mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Sirius’ thoughts and feelings were what mattered. Whether Harry liked what he had to say or not was irrelevant.

“Did you read the letter?” Harry asked, prompting Sirius to continue on with what he wanted to say.

Sirius nodded slowly, tilting his head as though trying to block Harry from seeing the expression on his face.

“What did she say?” Harry then asked, hoping against all hope that what Claire had to say would have a positive impact on Sirius’ decision.

“Well,” sighed Sirius, “she mainly talked about her life since--well since...she moved. And she mainly brought up small topics -- asking how everyone at Hogwarts was doing...She asked me questions about you--“

“Me? What could she possibly have asked about me that I haven’t already told her?”

Sirius shrugged. “She’s never met you, Harry. In all honesty, if you care to know, she’s just as curious about you as you are about her.”

Harry felt his face melt into an expression of awe. He was amazed that this woman actually wanted to get to know him. Sure, for months they had exchanged letters, but they were few and far between, the distance of their homes hindering the swift exchange of each letter by owl.

But Harry could think about that later. He was happy to hear that Claire, his own godmother, truly did care enough to ask about him. But right now he wanted to hear Sirius’ opinion on the matter.

“Is that all she said?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

Sirius turned his head slowly as he shrugged his shoulders again. “She might have said more,” he said quietly, so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears just to hear correctly.

“What did she say?” Harry wondered, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest. The way Sirius was acting... it was almost as though he was filled with sudden shyness. As though he’d rather keep the words Claire had written to him a deep secret, locked away in his heart forever. Well, whatever Claire had said, it had done the trick. But Harry was desperate to know what she had managed to tell Sirius. Privacy be damned.

“It’s not important what she said...” Sirius said calmly, though there was a small hint of a grin on his face that suggested otherwise.

Harry shook his head. "So -- what are you going to do about all of this?”

“I’m going to do nothing, Harry,” Sirius said casually. But Harry could see the light twinkle in his eye, and Harry knew that what Sirius really wanted to do was something.

“Nothing? Have you written back?” the young wizard asked.

Sirius smiled. “Yes, I’ve written back. But I want you to know, Harry... I don’t intend for anything to happen. I’m not looking for romance, or old friends. I’m happy with my work, and with you. Those are the two most important things to me, and I’m not going to sabotage the comfort I’ve found in my life just to patch things up with an old flame--“

“She was your fiancée!” Harry exclaimed in puzzlement. “That’s an entirely different situation--“

“You’re right,” Sirius agreed. “A situation which requires a fair amount of delicacy. Even if I wanted it, Harry...things will never be the same between us ever again.”

Harry stopped walking, prompting Sirius to stop as well. Something like anger rose slowly and heatedly through Harry's body.

“I guess that’s what makes us different,” he murmured, looking at Sirius.

“What do you mean?” asked his godfather, looking at him quizzically.

“If it were me, I’d never--“ Harry took a deep breath, trying to take control of his frustration, and also trying to piece together what he wanted to say. “If there ever came a day when Hermione was stripped from my life by circumstances beyond our control, I’d never give up on her -- on us.”

“But that is different. Don’t you see?” Sirius insisted, though he sounded quite unsure of himself.

“No, it’s not. Don’t you see? Hermione and I are as in love with each other as you and Claire once were. I’m going to marry her someday, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so certain of anything in my entire life. If something tore us apart and then one day I was given a chance to be with her again--I would take it in half a heartbeat, no questions asked. Our love will never die, and it’s the same with you and Claire.”

Sirius studied Harry for a moment, looking at him in a new light.

“And what makes you think that Claire and I are ‘meant to be,’ Harry? Things aren’t always the way they seem,” Sirius said.

“You wrote to her, didn’t you?” Harry pointed out, fighting off a knowing smile. “And she wrote to you. Sometimes, Sirius, you can’t fight fate. What is meant to be, will be. You can try to deny it all you want...but in the end... Destiny wins.“

After a moment of staring defiantly at each other, Sirius was the first to break down his defenses as he cracked a smile, his eyes lighting up.

“When did you get to be so wise in the affairs of fate and destiny?”

Harry found himself chuckling lightly, in spite of the very serious conversation they were having. “I suppose it helps being in love. Life is much more different when you have the love of your life by your side."

"You're telling me," Sirius said quietly. And then Harry didn't know what to say.

They started walking again.

"So..." Sirius said, heaving his shoulders and sighing. "Did...Claire ever mention me in her letters? Or talk about me at all?"

"Isn't there a godmother/godson confidentiality thing involved in my relationship with her?" Harry replied, grinning. "You wouldn't want to make me responsible for spilling all our private conversations to you, would you? Thanks for the chat, Sirius. I'll see you tomorrow." And he left before Sirius could open his mouth to reply.

Once Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, he discovered Ron was still wide awake, sitting by himself in the corner of the room in a chair.

"Hey, mate," Ron greeted, seeing Harry enter through the portrait hole.

"What are you doing awake? I thought I was the only one with the insane insomnia problem," Harry said, making his way to Ron.

"Nah," Ron replied. "You're not the only one with things on your mind."

Harry sat down across from the red-head, folding his arms on the table. He was starting to feel tired. The talk with Sirius had calmed and relaxed him, which was exactly what he needed. Sleep wouldn't come to him now though, until he learned what was bothering Ron.

"Is this about Leah?" Harry ventured a guess.

Ron grinned. "I'm so wide awake and excited ... I can't even explain it. Is it supposed to be like this?"

Harry returned the grin. "It's a great feeling, isn't it? So, is it official? Are you two together?"

Ron raised his eyebrows, though his eyes never left the table as he contemplated. "I don't know... We both know how we feel about each other, we just haven't really talked about it seriously, I guess."

Harry's eyes widened. "Exactly what are you waiting for, Ron?"

Ron stared at Harry a moment, his brows furrowed in utter confusion. "You think we should?"

Harry gave Ron an exaggerated pointed look. "You think she'll hang around forever, waiting for you to say something? You have to take action, Ron. You could end up regretting not approaching her sooner than later."

Ron said nothing for a moment, thinking about what Harry was talking about. "You're right," he finally said, nodding thoughtfully. "I should know by now that the only way to live is in the here and now... Who knows what could happen tomorrow?"

"Now you're just getting morbid," Harry said with a grin. "But it's good to see that you're getting the point. So what are you going to do first thing tomorrow?"

"I'm going to have a nice chat with Leah. Harry, I really, really care about her. I mean, it's not just a physical attraction...I really care about her. I worry when she's upset, and I'm happy when she's happy. It's such a different feeling from what I'm used to...compared to the other girls that I've been with. On top of that...I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... when I'm not with her, I want to be with her so bad."

"The hard part is pulling yourself away," Harry agreed. "But it gets easier with time. It's important, actually, to have time apart."

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder," Ron sighed wistfully, in a mocking tone.

"You have no idea. Just you wait, when you're separated from her this summer. Or next year even, when she's still in school and you're not. It's going to kill you."

Ron's earnest and shiny expression suddenly evaporated. "You're right...She's still going to be in school for the next two and a half years... Why would she want to be with me? She's still young... I mean, she'll still be surrounded by tons of guys she could be with..."

"She's surrounded by tons of guys she could be with now, isn't she? And she's with you. She knows what she wants. You have nothing to worry about," Harry assured his freckled friend.

"Maybe..." Ron said slowly, sounding as though he wanted to believe what Harry said, but actually too afraid to.

"Listen to me, mate," said Harry. "I know what I'm talking about. If you don't go for it tomorrow, I'll sic one of Hagrid's ugly--deadly-- creatures on you."

Ron shuddered, standing up. "Alright, you made your point. I'll see you tomorrow."

"That's right," Harry agreed. "Ginny's first Quidditch meeting as Captain!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. She's been rambling on about it for days now," he said as Harry stood up as well. Both of them made their way to the staircase.

"She's just nervous," Harry said. "Are you sure you're OK with her being Captain? I mean, I know you suggested it...but..."

"'Course I'm alright with it. My sister's happiness is all that matters to me," Ron replied.

Later as he lay in bed, Harry reflected on his conversation with Ron, and he silently prayed that Ron meant what he said. For Ginny's and Draco's sake.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 15: Auror Training
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: This chapter takes place throughout the month of February, starting with Harry and Hermione's first A.T lesson, and ending with another sinister message.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. Leah York belongs to me, but I borrowed her name from the REAL Leah. And the REAL Leah does NOT belong to me.

Special Thanks: Thanks Gary Skinner, for your encouragement and constant support! **huggles my beta**

Author's Note: OK, here's the deal. The first 14 chapters of this story were written before "Order of the Phoenix" was released. I wrote this chapter and the next few coming up after I read "Order." Which means that while the 5th HP book doesn't affect this story as a whole, I did include some things from the book--little things that you'll notice as you read along. Certain things (such as the little Sirius detail I'd rather not mention) I couldn't change. But I don't think I'll see any complaints! (Unless you've got a major hate-on for Sirius. And if you do, you shouldn't be reading this story). Now that I've said my piece, thank you all for reading! I really, really appreciate it!

Enjoy! (And review!)

"Wake up, Harry.”

Harry turned over in his sleep, believing the voice speaking to him was coming from his dreams. It took him a moment to realize that Hermione was actually leaning over his bed, shaking him awake. As he cracked open one eyelid, he found he was facing the window, and the curtains were drawn. The sun had not risen yet.

“I’m sleeping...” Harry murmured drowsily. He heard Hermione giggle softly, and felt her fingers brushing his hair back from his face.

“I know you are, sweetie. Don’t you remember? We start training this morning. We can’t be late,” Hermione reminded him.

Harry gave a loud groan as his dream-state floated away, and he came face-to-face with reality. Of course he hadn’t forgotten about the Auror training. In fact, he had stayed up most of the night full of anxiousness and excitement. He had finally passed out from exhaustion, and to him that felt like only an hour ago.

He turned over to face Hermione, who was still dressed in her nightdress. “I was having the most amazing dream,” he said before covering his mouth to stifle a long yawn.

“What was it about?” Hermione wondered, sitting on the edge of his bed and turning to face him.

Harry searched his mind for the details of his dream. This was the first good dream he’d had in a long time, and he didn’t want to forget it.

“You were in it,” he began. Hermione raised her brows interestedly. “And we lived in our own home.”

“We’re married?” Hermione asked, a delighted smile lighting up her face.

Harry nodded.

“And where were we living?” she wondered.

Harry shrugged at this. “I don’t know exactly. I just remember the surroundings... There weren’t a lot of buildings or anything. But there were a lot of trees and plants.”

“What were we doing in the dream?” Hermione asked.

“There was a huge party," he said, his eyes narrowing as he desperately tried grasping at the details which were quickly slipping away. "It was in our backyard. Everyone was there."

"Who's everyone?" Hermione wondered, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm not entirely sure," Harry said, looking at her sheepishly. "All the Weasleys were there, along with Sirius, Remus, and there were a lot of children I didn't recognize. Some of them were our own children," he said, nodding his head with conviction.

Hermione perked up at this. "Really, now?”

"I remember now -- why we were having the party. It was for our oldest son, Remy," Harry told her, looking into her eyes. They were wide and full of wonder. "He had just published his first novel."

"He was a writer?" Hermione exclaimed joyfully.

"A very talented one," Harry added with a smile. "And he had a twin, our daughter... Her name was Jamie."

"Twins? Oh my..." Hermione sighed. "Your dream sounds so magnificent."

"It was," Harry said, looking at her sadly. "It felt so real. You can imagine my surprise when I woke up...here."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And I take it 'here' isn't nearly as exciting?" she demanded, looking at him sharply.

"It's not like how it sounds, love," Harry assured her, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "It's just..."

"What?"

"In my dream... we were all so happy," Harry explained. "There was no threat of darkness, there was no danger. We could go anywhere; do anything, without fear and the constant desire to look over our shoulders all the time. We were free, Hermione. And it felt so good."

Hermione's face softened. "Do you think it could have been a prediction?" Over time Hermione had learned to take Harry’s dreams seriously, whether they were happy or ominous.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I can only hope it was. And if not -- then I'll just have to do everything in my power to make sure it comes true."

"I wonder whose bright idea it was to start Auror training this early in the morning," Harry grumbled, as he and Hermione left the school grounds.

It was a very cold, early February morning, and the sun had just risen. As they chatted on the way, they could see their breath in front of them, puffing out like smoke with every exhalation. Before they had left, Hermione had charmed their winter cloaks with some sort of a Thermal Charm Harry had never heard of before. It kept the wearer warm and comfortable, from neck to toes. The face was the only part of the body the cloak couldn't cover, but there was nothing Hermione could have done about that. And Harry felt so warm (with the exception of his nose and ears), that he felt no desire or reason to complain.

"I believe it was yours, Harry," Hermione reminded him.

"And why didn't you smack me into sense?"

"Because that's not my style," answered Hermione. "And besides, I was in complete agreement with you. It's just easier this way. First -- we can leave the grounds before any students wake up, which means they won't even know we've left. We're supposed to remain discreet, remember? If we did the training after classes, then everyone would see us leave, and they'd always wonder where we're going. That's the last thing we need. Secondly -- no shops open this early in Hogsmeade, and no one is ever awake this early, so we won't have to face any inquiries as to where we're going."

"We never did before," Harry pointed out.

"That's because there were too many kids around on the Hogsmeade trips, so when we went to visit Sirius, no one ever missed us, because they never noticed we were gone. Two Hogwarts students, alone, walking to the outer-edges of Hogsmeade nearly every afternoon would look extremely suspicious." Hermione told Harry. "And besides, there's no harm in being cautious."

Harry sighed, but said nothing. Sirius had instructed the two of them to meet him at precisely 7 am, in the same caves just outside Hogsmeade, where Hermione, Ron and Harry had visited the innocent fugitive many times in their 4th and 5th years. Harry felt like he was 14 years old again, sneaking off to those same caves with Hermione to meet his godfather. The only difference was, Ron wasn't with them. And he wasn't carrying a large and heavy backpack full of food. The only thing Sirius had instructed them to bring was their wands.

They arrived in Hogsmeade, passed Dervish and Banges, and made their way to the edge of the small village, following the very familiar path which would lead them to the caves. Half an hour later, they came face to face with Sirius and --

"Remus!" both Harry and Hermione exclaimed, bright smiles lighting up their tired faces.

"Hello, you two," Remus greeted, smiling warmly.

"What's going on? Why are you here?" Harry asked suddenly, feeling very confused. As far as he knew, only Sirius would be training them.

"There's been a change of plans, Harry," Sirius said. Harry and Hermione looked at their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, waiting for him to explain what their former Defense teacher was doing there. "As it is, my schedule is very full. I'm sure you both know exactly what that feels like. So Remus has offered his services. Most of the time, he’ll be training you. During the days when he physically can’t—i.e the full moon—I’ll be training you."

Harry raised his brows in surprise. "That's great!" he said, and Hermione nodded enthusiastically beside him. Remus had always been one of Harry's favorite teachers, and he had no doubt that he and Hermione were in good hands.

“Just out of curiosity, Remus, who’s making the Wolfsbane potion for you now?” Hermione asked. “Chances are it isn’t Snape. He doesn’t know you’re back, does he?”

“We’re keeping my presence under wraps for now,” Remus told them. “But as for your original question, I managed to come across a wizard in Hogsmeade who has been more than accommodating to make the potion for me. It’s really quite convenient, since I’m now living in Hogsmeade. I have total access to the potion maker.”

“That’s good news,” Harry said.

"Are you two warm enough? We know it's a long walk," Sirius said.

Harry snorted with disdain. "That's easy for you to say, Padfoot," he said, knowing that his Animagus form was exactly how Sirius had traveled from the school to the caves.

Sirius smirked as Hermione answered, "We're fine, Sirius. We're perfectly warm. Are you two alright? I taught myself a Charm that will help keep you warm. I know how drafty these caves can get, especially in the winter."

"The Thermal Charm. We know that one, and it's impressive that you know it too," Remus said. "Though not the least bit surprising," he added with a grin.

"Then if everyone is good to go, why don't we get started," Sirius suggested.

“What do we do?” asked Harry with interest, suddenly not feeling as tired as he did a moment ago.

“Sirius and I will demonstrate for you both first, to give you an idea of how it’s done,” Remus explained, taking on the attitude of a professor once again.

Harry felt he should tell them both that he already knew how to duel, but he decided against it. Sirius and Remus obviously wanted to do a thorough job of training.

The two older wizards put some distance between them, wands held out in front of them.

There was no preparation, no countdown, before Sirius hurled the first Curse at his opponent.

“Stupefy!”

To Harry’s surprise, instead of dodging the oncoming Curse, Remus swirled his wand in a complicated fashion, which—to Harry’s absolute disbelief—actually repelled the Curse.

“Expelliarmus!” Remus exclaimed.

Sirius stepped back slightly just as Hermione gasped with realization. Harry couldn’t understand what conclusion she had come to that he hadn’t, but he did notice Sirius raise his wand in the air and it looked as though he drew an equally complicated symbol in the air. The Disarming Spell had failed, but before Harry could put much thought into the matter, Sirius advanced on Remus.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Remus began to walk backwards, but again—just like before, the Spell had been deflected as Remus drew another similar symbol in the air. It was then that Remus fell, tripping over a stone he hadn’t noticed in his wake.

Sirius raised his wand with finality. “Avada Kedavra!”

But Remus had vanished! He Apparated at Hermione’s side, panting slightly and testing out his ankle.

“Thanks for the warning, Sirius,” Remus said in a slight growl that was reminiscent of Sirius’ own voice when he was angry.

“Hey… It can happen just like that,” Sirius replied innocently, with the snap of his fingers. “And that—Harry and Hermione—is why you must learn how to Apparate. As there is no way to counter or block the Killing Curse.”

“What were you—How did you—“ Harry stuttered, unable to form the right words. He may have felt alert, but apparently his brain still had a lot of waking up to do.

“Why they made you Head Boy, I’ll never guess,” Sirius teased in a fatherly fashion.

“Did either of you notice what we were doing?” Remus asked, looking expectantly at Hermione.

“You were blocking the Curses with your wands,” she answered promptly.

“I noticed that,” Harry replied in his defense to Sirius’ comment. “But was it really safe for you to use the Killing Curse on Remus, Sirius?”

With a mischievous grin, Sirius aimed his wand at Remus again and called out, “Avada Kedavra!”

Remus gave a loud yelp and jumped as though he had been given a small electrical shot. Sirius, finding this highly amusing, doubled over in laughter.

“Really funny, Sirius,” Remus muttered, smiling in spite of himself as he recovered.

Sirius fiddled with his wand while talking. “These are Training wands,” he explained.

Hermione gave another noise of recognition, as though one of her more burning conclusions had just been confirmed. “I thought they looked different from your real wands!”

“Can either of you tell us how we blocked the Curses?” Remus asked them.

“You were drawing symbols in the air,” Hermione answered automatically.

“But—how?" asked Harry. "I mean—how does a symbol block a spell?”

“That’s a good question,” Remus said, “which gets an easy answer. You both should know by now that no two Curses sound alike. In which case, you must learn the sound of each spell.

“You start the counter-curse, or block, once you hear the first syllable of the Curse being hurled at you. You can block the Curse by drawing symbols in the air. Just as with the Curses, there are no two symbols alike.”

“That’s a lot of symbols!” Harry exclaimed, starting to feel like he wasn’t cut out for this at all. If this was just the beginning, he was toast.

“I know it’s overwhelming, Harry,” Sirius agreed, seeing the look on his godson’s face. “But just like with everything else, it comes with practice. If we didn’t believe you could handle this, you wouldn’t be here. Trust me on that one.”

“Don’t you remember Second year, Harry?” Hermione asked. When Harry frowned in bewilderment, she added, “In the Dueling Club. With Professor Lockhart?”

“I remember. But what does that have to do with this?” Harry asked her.

All eyes were on Hermione as she answered. “Do you not remember when Lockhart tried to do the exact same thing Sirius and Remus were doing just a moment ago?”

Harry laughed. “That git couldn’t block a spell if his life depended on it. In fact, I remember clearly that he had dropped his wand.”

“Well—yes,” Hermione agreed. “However, just before he dropped it, he did a sort of complicated wiggling with his wand. Right?”

“Yes…” Harry replied slowly.

“Anyway, it was years ago, but after that Dueling lesson, I went—“

“--To the library—“ grinned Harry.

“--To look up what Lockhart had been trying to do. And that’s when I discovered how Spells and Curses can be blocked by drawing symbols into the air,” Hermione finished.

“You are a teacher’s dream, Hermione,” Sirius said fondly.

“We have to match every spell to every symbol which would block it, right?” Hermione asked for confirmation.

“It’s as simple as that,” Remus replied, as impressed with Hermione as Sirius was. “Of course, you have to train your mind to be constantly on guard. What you saw with us wasn’t exactly real.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius muttered, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I was dead serious. Er—no pun intended…” he added with a grin.

Remus rolled his eyes in an exasperated way, vividly reminding Harry of the way Hermione reacted towards Ron and himself. “Always the joker, Padfoot. Anyway, as I was saying. In a real life situation, it’s always a difficult job to be prepared. Sirius, over here, showed me mercy,” he reminded them, while rolling his eyes again. Sirius grinned with satisfaction. “A Death Eater, however, would sooner end his own own life before showing you mercy. Therefore, the first rule of fighting a Death Eater is not to out-fight him, but to out-think him. Are you both following me?”

Harry and Hermione nodded. While they both realized how important their training was, they deeply appreciated how relaxed Sirius made them feel throughout the rest of the morning. Over the course of an hour, Sirius and Remus introduced them to the Training wands, which Sirius had obtained from the Ministry.

“They act as real wands, only with one small difference,” Sirius told them.

“Which is?” Harry asked, as Remus handed them each a Training wand. Harry ran his forefinger along it curiously.

“On the giving end of a Curse, they act the same as a normal wand. On the receiving end, however, you merely receive a minor shock. The idea is to block the curse. If say…I tried to hit you with the Cruciatus Curse, and you tried to block it, but used the wrong counter-curse, you’d receive nothing more than a shock. However, if you blocked it properly by using the right counter-curse—“

“I’d know it,” Harry finished for him.

“Exactly,” said Sirius with a short nod.

Harry, feeling ten times more attentive than half an hour ago, was eager to try out the wands. And by the time the lesson was over, he felt confident that the Auror training would be very successful.

Harry looked up from his textbook as Hermione slammed her own closed, her face twisted in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked her.

“Nothing,” Hermione muttered, sighing. “I’m just sick of studying.”

Harry raised his eyebrows disbelievingly while Ron, Leah and Ginny all looked at the Head Girl as though she had just sprouted two heads.

“Excuse me?” Ron squeaked.

Hermione grinned wryly, shrugging. “It was bound to happen, right?” she said to them.

“I’m speechless,” Ron said in a whisper, earning a reproving look from Leah.

“She’s entitled, you know!” the youngest of the five Gryffindors told him. Leah also had books spread out in front of her while she desperately worked at her Transfiguration assignment. Her O.W.L.’s were coming up, and Harry was reminded of his fifth year, and the many sleepless nights he spent trying to finish his schoolwork.

Shaking his head of the terrible memories, Harry instead chose to turn his head as he watched Hermione sink into her seat, watching the flickering flames in the fireplace as they gave the common room an eerie glow. He could tell she was exhausted. What she needed was a good night’s rest and some relaxation.

The past two weeks since their training had began were very busy, and even while they weren’t attending sessions, Sirius and Remus always made sure to hand them material to read at night whenever they had a chance. Secretly, Harry was beginning to worry about Hermione. She had become more irritable than normal lately, and he was sure it had a lot to do with her homework load, as well as everything else she had to cope with. He knew Hermione had a love for learning, and he knew she could handle almost anything. But he was positive that she was wishing she had a Time-Turner right about now. He couldn’t blame her at all.

Harry turned his attention to Ron and Leah, who sat bickering on the sofa. Ginny caught Harry’s eye and they both grinned, thinking the exact same thing: Ron strikes again.

“You can be so insensitive sometimes,” Leah breathed impatiently.

“And you can be so impatient sometimes,” was Ron’s heated reply.

“How can you expect me to be so tolerant of you all the time, when all you are is impossible?”

“She’s certainly opened up quite a bit since they got together, don’t you think?” Ginny asked Harry.

“I think they’re perfect together,” Harry said.

They spoke in hushed tones, that way Leah and Ron couldn’t hear their conversation.

“Sort of remind you of my parents, huh?” said Ginny.

“Which is why they’re perfect together,” Harry answered with a smile.

“I think it’s all so sweet,” Ginny continued quietly. “The way my brother asked Leah to be his girlfriend.”

“Ron told me—he asked her like it was a proposal, didn’t he? With a candlelit dinner and roses, and he got down on one knee…”

“Can you believe that?” Ginny said in a slightly shrill voice, full of admiration for her brother.

“I heard Leah was pretty surprised,” said Harry.

“She told me that she thought they already were boyfriend and girlfriend. Ron was horrified. He had gone through all that trouble…”

“Yeah, but now look at them,” said Harry, turning back to Ron and Leah, who were still both bickering back and forth. “Wasn’t it worth it?”

Ginny laughed just before Hermione sat up in her seat.

“Will you two stop? You’re giving me a migraine,” she moaned.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Leah apologized sincerely, glaring at Ron in a way that vividly reminded Harry of Mrs Weasley.

“I’m sorry, too,” Ron echoed, and Harry couldn’t help shaking his head as Leah smiled, reaching for Ron’s hand. They’re fingers linked, and they sat together in silence, while Leah flipped through her textbook with her free hand.

“Unbelievable, I know,” Ginny agreed, shaking her own head.

“Hermione?” Harry said, looking at his girlfriend.

“Yeah, Harry?”

“Maybe you should go to bed…get some sleep. You need it,” Harry told her.

Hermione’s eyes, which had been closed, opened slightly as she looked at Harry. His hand covered her own and he squeezed it gently.

“I don’t know…there’s still so much to do…”

“Hermione, you’re entitled to one nap. If I have to, I’ll enforce my Head Boy status and make you go upstairs.”

Hermione smiled gratefully at Harry. “Alright…I’m going. But make sure those two—“ and she pointed at Ron and Leah, “—don’t get out of hand.” She said the last few words with a smile and she stood up.

“That would be like trying to tame a Hungarian Horntail, Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, as Hermione disappeared up the stairs to her room.

“Good one, Ginny,” Ron replied sarcastically, while Leah giggled.

“This is a first,” Ron said under his breath to Harry, as the Divination class made their way to the Greenhouses.

“This way class…to Greenhouse three. Excellent,” Professor Trelawney called to the students.

Professor Sprout was already inside, smiling jovially to the students as they entered the greenhouse.

“Thank you, Professor Sprout,” Trelawney said softly as the portly teacher made her way to the door. “And dear—do try to stay indoors.”

Professor Sprout frowned in a puzzled way at the Divination teacher. “What do you mean?” There was a distinct tone of skepticism in her voice that Harry understood all too well.

“I mustn’t say—“ Trelawney said, closing her eyes and sighing. “It is such a burden with the knowledge—“

“You can tell me, Professor, or you are more than welcome to keep the information to yourself. But I have another class to run. Good day, class.”

Professor Sprout turned on her heel and vacated the greenhouse.

“What was it, Professor?” Parvati Patil exclaimed fearfully.

Trelawney smoothed down her robes and began toying with the beads around her neck.

“She will catch a dreadful cold,” she said quietly, slowly shaking her head.

No one in the class commented. They all knew perfectly well that Sprout would catch a cold. She worked in the greenhouses all year round, and they were sitting in the middle of winter. It was perfectly natural. Even Parvati and Lavender looked remotely disappointed.

“You are all no doubt wondering why we are here today, as opposed to our more comfortable classroom in the castle,” Trelawney began. “After our study with Crystal Gazing and Smoke Divination, I would like to introduce you to another form of fortune-telling. Scrye Divination.” She allowed a moment for this to sink in while the class pondered what “scrying” was.

“It is the practice of seeing visions in the surface of any form of reflecting liquid, whether it is water, or even a tub of oil. The liquid merely reflects the vision, just as the glass of a crystal ball would.”

Harry felt butterflies of dread in his stomach. Each time Trelawney introduced a new unit to study, he always managed to have visions. Would today be the same?

“Professor Sprout has been kind enough to allow us to use her pool, here,”

Trelawney motioned with one hand to a large, round pool which sat at the far end of the greenhouse. Harry remembered from a previous year when Sprout had used the same pool to grow magical plants. It reminded him of the kid-sized pools Muggle children used in their backyards during the summer.

“So if you all would be gracious enough to gather around, there’s enough room for all of you…that’s it…”

Harry and his classmates made their way to the other end of the greenhouse. They all dropped to their knees, placing their hands on the side of the pool. Draco Malfoy had managed to squeeze his way next to Harry, as Ron took his right hand side. Every student looked at Trelawney expectantly.

“We’ve been practicing quite a bit at working our Inner eye. Focus your energy as you look into the water, and tell me if you see anything,” Trelawney instructed.

“We’ll be here forever,” Ron muttered miserably.

Harry felt his insides squirming. He could see Draco’s reflection in the water, and felt slightly better as the blond Slytherin winked encouragingly at him.

“Focus, children,” Trelawney said in her own encouraging manner. She walked around the pool, also keeping watch for any signs.

“Oh! Professor Trelawney! I think I see something!” Lavender shrieked excitedly, pointing down into the water.

Trelawney made her way to her. “What is it, dear? What did you see?” she asked.

But at this point Lavender’s face had fallen with disappointment. “Oh…never mind…it’s just a leaf…probably from Professor Sprout’s plants.”

Ron snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. Parvati glared at him from across the pool.

Harry’s knees were starting to throb. He tried to concentrate, but it was difficult being squished between two other people, while sitting in the most uncomfortable position possible.

At this point, when Harry was seriously starting to consider standing up and stretching, an eerie shadow passed over the reflected sunlight on the surface of the water. Harry jerked his head over his shoulder and squinted up into the steel-white February sky, expecting to see some large, dark creature with its wings outspread, blocking out the sun. He thought it might be one of the thestrals, which he knew lived in the Forbidden Forest. No one else in the class seemed to have noticed anything odd, but that was not surprising, as Harry was one of the few people at Hogwarts who could see the skeletal, black-winged horses that pulled the carriages which bore the students to and from Hogsmeade. Thestrals were visible only to someone who had seen Death, so it was only to be expected that Harry, alone of all the class, had seen.

But when he squinted in the direction of the pale sun, he saw that there was nothing there. The sky in every direction was as bright and featureless as an inverted pewter cauldron. Bewildered, Harry turned his attention back to the pool—and he gasped. The reflection of the sun on the water’s surface was still obscured, as if by a pair of great, black leathery wings. But—it couldn't be a reflection, for the sun shining feebly overhead was not blocked out.

But if it was not a reflection—and Harry experienced a sudden chill that was unrelated to the cold of the early winter’s morn—that could only mean…

“Black wings blocking out the sun,” Trelawney whispered over his shoulder.

Harry was pointedly avoiding looking into Professor Trelawney’s large, unblinking eyes, which he could feel boring into the back of his head like twin Incendio spells.

“My dear,” Trelawney whispered, looking at Harry in a new light. “You have the gift!”

The entire class was staring at Harry with a mixture of puzzlement and amazement.

“N-no I don’t,” Harry denied, as Ron shot him a look that told him he thought Trelawney was as batty as ever.

“You know what you saw, child. And you are aware that I have seen the same vision,” Trelawney persisted.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“The world covered in shadow,” Trelawney reminded him, and Harry felt ice slipping into his stomach. “The wings, my dear, the wings!”

“There were no wings…I was just—“

At that point the signal for the end of class rang, yet all of Harry’s classmates remained where they were, still staring at Harry.

“I have to go,” Harry said suddenly, and Ron stood up with him. He noticed Draco making his way up as well, as if to follow him. But he seemed to think better of it, as he sat back down.

“You may try to deny it, Mr Potter,” Trelawney called after him. “But the Seeing Eye knows all! And you have the gift!”


To Be Continued...

Thanks from Fae: Thanks again for the thoughtful reviews, and taking the time to read this story! It means so much to me. :) I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to post again. The thing is...I took on a second job. So...yeah... I'm gonna be a busy girl.

Hmmm... So what's coming up next? More Auror Training? A Birthday celebration? Some guest appearances? Tune in next time to find out!

Chapter 16: The Golden Eagle
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, D/G, R/OC and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Join Harry, Hermione, Ron and Leah as they celebrate Ron's birthday at the most distinguished restaurant in Hogsmeade. Ron? Distinguished? What's this world coming to?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. In addition: Anything you don't recognize belongs to me. Except for Leah... because I gave her to Ron. ^_^

Special Thanks: To my homefry, Gary Skinner. I don't know what I did to deserve such a cool beta, and I don't think now is the time to question it. I don't want to jinx it! But I'm having so much fun working on this story with him.

Fae's Quickie: Thanks for all your kind words, guys. I don't know what I'd do without you! I probably wouldn't post, actually. Anyway, I meant to post this weeks ago, but instead I ran out of time and patience, and I ended up...not posting it. I'm a lot busier these days, so bear with me, please! Christmas is coming up, and I'm working two jobs at the time. Those two things combined leave very little time for anything else (other than sleep, food...and sometimes a shower...) Enjoy the chapter! I have today and tomorrow off, so I hope to get the other chapters into shape so I can post them!

As for the chapter itself, you'll find that from Chapter 15 on involve things from OotP. The thing is...I wrote this story up until chapter 14 and that was before OotP was released. When I read the book, it almost became natural that I include some things from it as I continued to write the story. Small things. Things that don't affect the overall story or plot. (I really didn't want certain details from OotP to affect my story). Anyway, that's just a friendly little reminder!

And I'm not entirely sure if this is customary, but a really massive thanks and a great massive hug goes out to Talion. Thank you so very, VERY much! :D

Read and Enjoy!

“I still think you should go to Dumbledore,” said Hermione quietly as she flipped through the book sprawled open before her.

“And I still disagree with you,” Harry said defiantly.

Harry and Hermione sat across from each other in the library, doing research for their least favorite class, Potions. It was mandatory that every 7th year student in Potions find a draught that they had never studied or brewed before, learn it by heart, and teach the class how to mix it properly. It was worth 30% of their final mark, and Severus Snape, their Potions Master, had made it abundantly clear that the success of their potion depended greatly on how well the class performed in brewing the mixture given to them.

At the moment, however, Hermione was barely concentrating on her potions assignment. Two weeks had passed since Harry's prediction in the greenhouse, and once Harry had told Hermione about it, she immediately insisted that he go to Dumbledore. But Harry seriously doubted that this prediction was anything to worry about, and had disagreed with Hermione on the subject.

Harry clearly remembered having similar conversations with her long ago, when he had had his first vision. Even now, Hermione’s persistence was not wavering. Throughout the past two weeks, she would bring up the subject at odd moments, hoping to catch Harry at a weak point and convince him to see Dumbledore.

"Do you honestly believe that the predictions you've been having don't mean a thing?" Hermione demanded sharply.

Harry fought hard to control whatever remaining patience he had. It was times like these he wished Hermione hadn’t begun to believe in prophecies and visions.

"It's not that," Harry told her, very calmly. "I just don't believe there's anything Dumbledore can do."

As he stared hard at the book he was reading, Harry could see that Hermione was staring at him fixedly. He sighed and lifted his head so his eyes were level with hers, and what he saw lifted his sour mood and made him want to laugh. She was giving Harry a look that he knew she was using as a last resort. The "puppy-dog eyed" look, where she raised her eyebrows into a small arch above a pair of hopeful brown eyes, completing the picture with a protruding bottom lip.

“Don’t give me that look, Hermione,” Harry pleaded, melting inside against his iron will.

Hermione seemed to sense that he was finally relenting, too, because she increased the look ten-fold. Harry sighed, wondering how he could face off against the Darkest wizard ever known to mankind, and yet cave in almost instantly when it came to the woman he loved.

“Alright, alright,” Harry finally conceded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Hermione beamed at him. “Now that we’ve covered that problem, I was wondering--have you made reservations for dinner yet?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry. “Keep your calendar clear next Saturday. I’ll tell Ron and Leah to do the same.”

Just at that moment, Hagrid’s massive form emerged from the bookcases behind Harry and Hermione’s table. He was clutching a book to his chest, and when Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes landed on the witch and wizard, his large hand discreetly covered the title before either Harry or Hermione could see it.

“Hello!” he exclaimed jovially, at which Madam Pince hushed him immediately with a deadly glare.

“What’s that you’ve got, Hagrid?” asked Hermione curiously.

“I got me a book,” Hagrid replied vaguely.

Hermione laughed. “You’re not getting secretive on us again, are you? Haven’t you learnt by now that it’s impossible to keep anything from us?”

“’S no harm in tryin’, ain’t there?” he asked in return, and Harry grinned at Hagrid’s innocent reply.

Hermione sighed.

“What’re you both up ter?” asked Hagrid curiously.

“Potions,” said Harry, his nose crinkling in disgust, and he told Hagrid about the assignment.

Hagrid made a noise of sympathy and nodded. “Well--best ter get it o’er with, I always say. Ye’d do good ter go firs’, maybe.”

“He is going first. In two weeks,” Hermione told the half-giant. “But I keep insisting that he has nothing to worry about. Harry's a wonderful teacher.”

Harry smiled at Hermione appreciatively while Hagrid cleared his throat loudly. “Well--got a lotta work ter catch up on. I’ll see yeh two later.”

When he left, Hermione looked at Harry sharply. “Did you notice what I noticed?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Er--“

“He was coming from the Restricted section, Harry!” Hermione hissed.

Harry’s stomach dropped with a heavy feeling of dread. “This isn’t good...”

“Well of course that all depends on what book he picked out...” Hermione replied with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I mean--he’s not introducing us to some new and dangerous creature. We already know the general outline for our Creatures class.” She paused, looking deep in thought for a moment. Then: “It’s not...that likely, is it? You don't think he'd spring something up on us? Like a...a...Manticore or something?” she asked worriedly.

This time it was Harry’s turn to give Hermione a pointed look. “We know Hagrid better than that,” he told her.

Hermione heaved another sigh. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

The following week-end Ron was staring at Harry with a mixture of horror and awe on his face. He then turned his bright blue eyes back to the restaurant they were standing directly in front of.

“You’re joking, right?” he said to Harry, utterly dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked him innocently.

“This is the Golden Eagle,” Ron said in a hollow voice.

“I know it is,” Harry said, smiling.

“The most prestigious--expensive restaurant in Hogsmeade,” Ron added.

“That’s right,” Harry agreed. “Happy Birthday, mate,” he added as Hermione linked her arm through Harry’s.

“Shall we go inside?” she asked, shivering against him.

Leah slipped her hand into Ron’s, and the two followed Harry and Hermione into the restaurant.

“Welcome to the Golden Eagle. How can I help you?”

A young man wearing a fancy, forest green set of robes, stood at a podium which was located to Harry’s left. He was smiling at them in a welcoming way.

“We have reservations for Potter, please,” Harry told the man.

The wizard consulted the list laid out before him, at which point Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear, “You look beautiful.” And before she could reply, the host looked up at them again and nodded.

“Follow me, please, Mr. Potter and company,” he instructed.

Hermione and Harry grinned at each other and obeyed the host, while behind them Ron and Leah gasped with delight. Harry attempted to keep a straight, nonchalant face as they walked through the restaurant, as though he dined richly all the time. But he couldn’t stop himself from feeling an overwhelming sense of awe as he glanced all around him, taking in his surroundings.

The restaurant was shrouded in furniture as deep a shade of blue as the walls. There wasn’t a single window anywhere to be seen, and no lamps to give light. Instead, the restaurant was illuminated by hovering candles lit with soft, blue flames. Gentle music echoed through the restaurant, which left the atmosphere calm, giving the customers a feeling of peace and serenity. Harry could instantly see why this place was so expensive and such a success.

They passed many tables and booths occupied by elegantly dressed witches and wizards, some sipping wine from crystal goblets, others using utensils Harry had never seen before. Harry spotted the source of the music to their far right. A beautiful witch garbed in shimmering silver robes strummed her slender fingers along a large, golden harp. The body of the harp was shaped like a giant eagle, complete with a set of golden wings which spread out at either side.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she,” Hermione whispered at Harry’s elbow as they continued to follow the host.

Harry nodded as he looked at the harp-playing witch. He felt enchanted just by being in the same room with her. “Is she a Veela?” he asked Hermione.

“No, she’s an Eternal. An immortal witch,” she added before Harry could ask. “They’re as rare as a true Seer, and a hundred times more useful.”

“An Eternal? Here?” Ron gasped with delight, his head swinging in the same direction where Harry was looking. “Wait until Mum hears about this.”

“How do you know she’s an Eternal?” Harry asked Hermione curiously.

Hermione smiled at him, but it wasn’t with her usual knowledgeable grin. Her eyes seemed to light up, as though drawn from a power within her. “You know that feeling you’re experiencing right now?” she asked softly. “Eternals fill you with hope and tranquility. They take away all your bad feelings and thoughts, and leave you with nothing but your best memories. Basically, they’re the total opposite of Dementors.”

Just as they passed the Eternal, she looked up and met Harry’s eyes. The emotional sensations that followed were instantaneous. Harry felt the joy of life and love as he had never experienced it before. And something in him began to rise, filling every dark corner of his being -- a feeling of peace and prosperity. He felt blessed for everything he had, and grateful for being alive. Harry remembered the Cheering Charm he had learnt in Third year, but what he was feeling now was far more intense.

The witch smiled serenely at Harry and inclined her head in acknowledgment. She then turned back to her harp and continued to entrance the restaurant as she played.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry with concern.

He turned and looked directly into her eyes, feeling so happy he could cry.

“I have never been better,” he told her, his voice thick.

The host finally brought them to a plush booth at the far end of the restaurant which seemed isolated from all the other tables.

“The best seat in the house, sir,” said the host with a bow. “Your waitress will be with you in one moment. I sincerely hope you enjoy your meal, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said sweetly, taking her seat before everyone else. As the host left, Leah followed Hermione’s lead by sitting across from her, and Harry and Ron took their seats next to their partners.

“Harry--“ Ron said in the same tentative tone he had adopted outside the Golden Eagle.

“I’m paying, Ron. I don’t want to hear any more arguments on the matter,” Harry said shortly.

“You can’t pay!” Ron hissed, suddenly indignant.

“Oh believe me, mate, I wouldn’t be paying in any normal circumstances. What am I? Made of gold?” Harry joked. “But it’s your birthday, and as we didn’t get to celebrate it properly on your birthday, this was literally the best thing I could do.”

“You can’t pay,” Ron repeated, but with less fervor than before.

“What are you planning to order, love?” Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Ron with a smile.

“I’m not sure...” Hermione replied thoughtfully as she opened the menu in front of her.

“How did you know about this place, Harry?” Leah wondered, still staring around in awe.

“Sirius told me about it,” he said without hesitating. “He told me that this was the first place my father took my mother when they started dating.”

Hermione looked from her menu to Harry, her eyes wide in mild shock. “You never told me that.”

Harry shrugged, feeling uneasy. He found himself staring at the other tables where other witches and wizards were dining peacefully. And a familiar ache pierced his heart as he wondered where, all those years ago, his parents had sat on their first date.

“It didn’t come up,” Harry finally told her as he turned his attention back to the present.

“Good evening,” greeted their waitress. She was young, and wore plain, black dressing robes. She was a pretty blonde, with stunning blue eyes and a smile to match. In addition, her wand was tucked behind her ear and she looked very familiar. “My name is Natty. I’ll be your waitress for the evening.”

“Hello,” the others greeted, returning the smile.

“Did you need a few more minutes to order? Could I get any of you anything to drink to start?”

The four exchanged glances until Hermione piped up. “Just a tea for me, thank you.”

Natty promptly pulled out her wand and waved it into the air. A shimmering silver number 1 with the letter T appeared in the air before disappearing completely.

“That’s marvelous!” Hermione exclaimed joyfully. “Is that new?”

“Actually, it is,” Natty replied, flashing Hermione another brilliant smile. “It’s a new development we’ve been testing out for the past couple of weeks, and it seems to work amazingly well. It makes our jobs much easier, and the service is much faster,” she confided.

“How does it work?” she asked with polite eagerness.

When Natty hesitated, Harry nodded his encouragement. “Indulge her,” he said, just as Hermione swatted him playfully.

Natty giggled. “Alright. The number 1 you saw represents the table number, and the letter T represents the order--for instance, you ordered a tea. If you had ordered coffee, I would have drawn a C in the air.”

“Wouldn’t that get confusing with food orders?” Hermione asked interestedly.

“Food orders are slightly different,” Natty explained with the same enthusiasm Harry recognized in Hermione. “We don’t use letters, we use code-numbers. For instance, if you ordered a roasted chicken which comes with any salad of your choice, the code would be 147. Each number symbolizes something about the order. The number 1, obviously, symbolizes your table number. The 4 represents the food group, which would be chicken. And the number 7 tells us which dish you ordered.”

“And what happens then?” Hermione asked.

“It goes directly to the kitchens, where the Taker receives the orders, and informs the chefs.”

Hermione suddenly frowned. “And who are the chefs, may I ask?”

Harry and Ron both closed their eyes, fighting the urge to groan. If Hermione discovered that there were house-elves in the kitchens…no more Golden Eagle.

But Natty was grinning as though she had read Hermione’s mind. “Don’t worry, honey. Only wizards and witches cook here. My parents never supported house-elf slavery.”

Harry and Ron both opened their eyes and looked at Natty in shock. “Your parents?” they both said in unison.

But Hermione was positively glowing.

“You’re JOKING!” she exclaimed. After she realized that she had raised her voice unbecomingly, she regained her composure. “I mean--that’s fantastic. Good for you--and your parents!”

“Your parents?” Ron repeated.

“My father is the owner of this restaurant,” Natty explained with a wry smile.

“Hang on--“ said Harry, frowning up at Natty. “Do we know you? I feel like I…recognize you, somehow.”

“I do, too,” Ron agreed.

“Well you would, wouldn’t you?” said Hermione in her usual know-it-all manner. “She’s Natalie Lovegood. She was Head Girl the same year Percy was Head Boy, remember?”

“Ah, I remember,” Ron said, nodding.

“LOVEGOOD?” Harry exclaimed. “As in--Luna Lovegood?”

“She’s my cousin. You know Luna?” Natty asked.

Ron snorted rudely and yelped when Leah poked him roughly in the ribs.

“Yeah, we know Luna,” Harry answered. “I can’t believe you’re related. And come to think of it...you do sort of...look like her.”

Natty giggled appreciatively. “We tend to act alike, which is probably why you notice a resemblance. Our fathers are brothers.”

“Are you two very close? You and Luna?” Hermione asked.

“She’s the best person I know,” said Natty forcefully. “She’s the little sister I never had.” She looked at her watch. “And listen to me--chatting away when you’re all getting hungry. Anything else to drink?”

A minute later, Natty left, leaving the four to sort out what they wanted to order, and also to discuss the interesting coincidence of meeting another Lovegood.

When Hermione finished reading through her menu, she passed away the time by toying around with the condiments on the smooth, polished mahogany table in an absent-minded way. As she moved the salt shaker, she gave a loud gasp.

“What is it?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, desperately trying to keep her voice down. “Look!”

She pointed to where the salt shaker had been and Harry leaned over, squinting down at the polished table.

And then he saw it. ‘J.P + L.E.’ The initials were small and barely visible upon first glance. But then again, Hermione always did have a keen sense of sight.

“They were here!” Hermione said, a noise escaping her lips like a short sob of joy. “Harry--your parents. They were here.”

A slow warmth cascaded through Harry from head to toe at these words. He felt lighter than air. And he knew this feeling had nothing to do with the Eternal witch.

“How romantic,” Leah sighed dreamily, glancing at Ron shyly.

“I was always told my dad didn’t have very much respect for rules,” Harry said, thinking of the reckless damage his father had done to the smooth, expensive table-top. “But I had no idea he was a sentimentalist.”

Hermione’s hand touched his gently. “Well now the mystery is solved.”

“What mystery?” Harry asked her quizzically.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. “I finally know where you got it from.”

Ron was shaking his head in wonderment. “Now there's a coincidence if there ever was one,” he said, referring to the carved initials.

When Natty returned with drinks for them, she was looking at Ron curiously.

“You’re Percy’s youngest brother,” she said.

“I am,” Ron said, receiving his coffee from her.

“And you have a younger sister as well, don’t you?” she said.

“Ginny,” Ron told her. “Why?”

Natty shrugged as she handed Leah her glass of iced sugar-lemon. “I saw her here a little while ago. With a--“

“I am starved,” Harry exclaimed suddenly. “Are we ready to order yet?”

At the thought of eating, Ron immediately forgot about what Natty was talking about. When Ron wasn’t looking, Harry shot Natty a wide-eyed look, suggesting that it would be better if she didn’t mention Ginny again. And surprisingly enough, Natty seemed to understand the look, and she gave Harry a discreet nod.

“Speaking of Ginny,” Ron said casually as Natty (after taking their orders) traveled to another table, “Tell them what you told me, Leah.”

Harry fought off a groan as Leah sighed. “It’s not a big deal, Ron. I told you I never believed it.”

“Harry and Hermione will get a kick out of it. Trust me,” said Ron.

“Well...” Leah started hesitantly. “According to my friend Justice from Ravenclaw, Ginny has a secret admirer.”

Harry frowned at Leah while alarm bells were ringing loudly in his head. “And how exactly would Justice--“

Hermione gently pressed her foot against Harry’s toes beneath the table, cutting him off mid-sentence, and she shot him a silent look of warning. It then occurred to him that if he pursued the matter, Ron could possibly become even more suspicious than he already seemed.

“That’s a little far-fetched,” Harry finally said, instantly changing the direction of the conversation.

“That’s what I keep telling Ron, but he refuses to drop it,” Leah said in her defense.

“It’s not that necessarily,” said Ron. “I just keep getting this feeling that Ginny is hiding something from us.”

“Paranoid,” Leah muttered with a smile in Ron’s direction.

Ron didn’t say anything to this, and Harry found himself holding his breath, wondering if he was going to continue with the topic about Ginny. Would he remember that Natty had mentioned Ginny, and would he ask her about what she had wanted to tell him?

“I guess so,” Ron finally admitted.

Harry let out a slow sigh of relief.

A few minutes later, Natty returned with four gleaming silver plates. “Food is ready!” she chirped cheerfully. After setting down their plates in front of them, she withdrew her wand from behind her ear once again and tapped each of their plates in order. Their orders magically appeared with each tap of her wand.

“There you are,” she said. “Enjoy!”

They all thanked her, and she left to tend to another table.

It wasn’t until they were half-way through their meal when Ron gave a straggled cough, as though he was choking on his steak. He was looking directly behind Harry, and it took him a moment to get the words out of his mouth. But when he finally did speak, it was in a voice filled with shock and hesitation.

“Hey Harry--isn’t that--Cho?”

Harry and Hermione both twisted around in their seats, and sure enough, Cho Chang was gliding smoothly past the rows and tables. And while Cho was still very pretty, with her long, smooth black hair and cherry-red lips, Harry distinctly noticed the shadows under her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept decently in ages. Her usual gliding walk was more brisk than graceful. She resembled a once flourishing flower which had wilted over a short period of time.

But what mostly caught Harry’s attention was not Cho herself, but the tall man her arm was linked to. Harry recognized the dark hair, the stooped shoulders, and his duck-footed walk.

“And isn’t that--KRUM?” Ron gasped.

Harry and Hermione turned back in their seats to face Ron and Leah. Harry knew Hermione didn’t want to have the evening spoiled by seeing Cho, as her feelings towards the former Ravenclaw were only slightly less than hostile. Harry had his own reasons for not wanting to talk to Cho, and when Ron’s eyes suddenly lowered to his plate, Harry knew that Cho Chang and Viktor Krum had spotted them and were now making their way to Harry’s table.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up at Cho and Viktor with a genuine smile. “Hello, Cho. Hi, Viktor,” he added, nodding to the Bulgarian Seeker.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” said Cho, smiling brilliantly at him. “What brings you all here?”

“We’re celebrating Ron’s birthday. He turned 18 last week,” said Harry. “And how are you both?”

Cho tossed Harry a devilish smile and thrust out her left hand right under his nose. A massive diamond was perched atop a thin, gold band which circled her wedding finger.

“Married?” said Hermione, looking at Viktor with an odd look in her eye.

“We got married just last month,” Cho gushed, her cheeks flushing with excitement.

“Congratulations,” Harry said sincerely. Hermione nodded next to him.

“Thanks!” Cho beamed.

“I see ve vere right za whole time, Harry,” said Viktor, looking from him to Hermione.

It was Hermione’s turn to blush.

“I should have listened to you the first time you hauled me to the side,” Harry agreed.

Cho gave a short laugh. “You make it sound like he was the only one who pointed out your feelings for Hermione.”

“What can I say?” said Harry with an innocent shrug. “I was a mindless git.”

“Yes...” Hermione agreed with a sweet smile. “But a very cute git.”

Cho narrowed her eyes slightly at Hermione, and swept her long, dark hair back over her shoulder with her left hand. “Well, it was nice to see you all,” said Cho in a falsely cheerful tone.

“Congratulations to you both,” Harry repeated with a sincere smile. “You deserve to be happy.” He said the last part to Cho.

She looked at Harry in surprise, as though a part of her believed she didn’t deserve such kind words.

“Thank you,” she said. She turned to Ron. “Happy birthday.” And the next thing Harry knew, they were gone.

A moment later, Harry could see Hermione shaking her head through the corner of his eye. She gave a soft, impatient cluck of her tongue.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“She’s pregnant,” Hermione said without preamble. She didn’t look up as she said it, but continued to eat as Ron and Harry stared at her searchingly. Leah, on the other hand, nodded her head.

“Who's pregnant?” Ron finally asked.

“Cho! She’s pregnant,” Hermione hissed.

“How can you tell?” asked Harry, feeling as confused as Ron looked.

“Never, ever doubt a woman’s instinct,” said Leah.

“And how is it that girls can tell and guys can’t?” Ron asked, slightly annoyed.

Leah shrugged, unperturbed. “I guess it takes a girl to know one, Ron.”

But Harry was looking at Hermione with a slight frown, finally understanding what she was insinuating. “You’re not saying he married her because--“

“He got her pregnant? Yes, yes I am,” Hermione replied cynically.

“Hermione!” Harry said in an exasperated tone. “Did it ever occur to you that she could have gotten pregnant after they were married?”

“They’ve only been married a month. Cho has been pregnant longer than that. Six weeks,” Hermione predicted. “At least.”

“Hermione...” Harry murmured gently.

“If you don’t believe me, then don’t take my word for it. In seven months we’ll look through the paper and watch for birth announcements. Alright?”

“You just--you sound upset,” said Harry, more gently still.

“Viktor never wanted to get married!” Hermione hissed. “Never. It’s true...we haven’t talked since our 6th year, and maybe he did change his mind about his values. But I doubt that,” Hermione said, speaking very fast and heatedly. “And it’s perfect isn’t it? Cho gets pregnant, traps Viktor into a marriage, because if he didn’t marry her, it’d be all over the national news that Viktor is nothing but a scumbag. And she and her child will always live under his support, and never have to do without anything ever again.”

More silence fell at their table after Hermione’s speech.

“Hermione,” Harry said calmly, reaching for her hand which was clenched tightly in a fist. “There’s a chance he married her because he loves her.”

“Viktor didn’t want marriage or a family. He wanted to focus on his career and she deprived him of that!” Hermione whispered shrilly. “I’m sorry, but I know Viktor, and I know he deserves better than that sneaking, conniving--“

“One would get the impression you don’t like Mrs. Viktor Krum,” said Ron.

“I’ve never liked her,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know she was your first--“

“It wasn’t much of a relationship, if you ask me,” Harry assured her. And then he added for good measure, “Any time we were alone was time well spent talking about you.”

Hermione tossed him an appreciative glance and gently squeezed his hand.

Ron shook his head, cutting off another piece of steak with his knife and fork.

“The Golden Eagle isn’t just the most prestigious or expensive restaurant in Hogsmeade. It’s also one happening place.”

Harry smiled, thinking of their evening thus far. And he silently agreed.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 17: Auror Training: Apparation
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, D/G, R/OC and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: As Harry and Hermione's Auror Training continues to progress they dive into Apparation with Remus's aid.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

Special Thanks: To Gary Skinner!

Author's Note: This chapter originally was a part of the last chapter. At least...I intended for them to be together. But apparently that wasn't meant to be. Because for some bizarre reason, I can't upload them together. I had the same problem at FF.net, so I know it's not the site. Anyway, I'm posting them back-to-back for ya's. Enjoy!

As the month of March was drawing to a close, so was winter. Every passing day brought sun and warmth, along with fresh patches of grass throughout the Hogwarts grounds as the snow melted away.

The walks to the caves on the outskirts of Hogsmeade became increasingly easier, although muddier. Harry and Hermione spent five minutes before each Auror lesson zapping their robes free of mud so they could practice their training properly. Harry couldn’t wait until the sun became hot enough so that it melted the rest of the snow, and dried all the mud.

When they arrived for their latest Auror lesson, Harry and Hermione both discovered that their instructor still had yet to arrive.

“While we’re waiting, did you want to put our lessons and hard studying to use?”

“Are you challenging me to a duel, Potter?” Hermione asked with a smirk.

“That’s if you’re not too worried that I’ll win,” Harry added playfully. “Do you accept?”

“What do I get if I win?” she asked, approaching him.

Harry grinned. “The knowledge of knowing that you actually beat me,” he told her.

“And that’s supposed to be a prize?” Hermione demanded.

Harry laughed. “Come on--this is me we’re talking about,” he said with an air of smugness. “And what are the chances that you’ll beat me, anyway?”

Hermione laughed in return, stepping back and whipping out her Training wand.

“Famous last words, Potter.”

Harry pulled out his own wand and they took their positions.

A moment later they were shooting out spells, jinxes and curses, each in turn deflecting them and putting all their practicing and long hours of studying to use. They went on for over 15 minutes, and it wasn’t until Harry caught Remus entering the caves that he stopped.

At which point Hermione shouted, “STUPEFY!” And Harry squealed as he received an electrical shock.

“Funny, Granger!” Harry exclaimed.

“Does that mean I win?” Hermione asked him sweetly.

“Excellent work, you two,” Remus said, interrupting them. “I watched you from outside,” he added. “I was thinking we can dive straight into Apparation. Did you read the passages I marked for you both?”

When Harry and Hermione both nodded, Remus smiled at them and clasped his hands behind his back, standing tall.

“Alright--Apparation. We’re going to start today by doing small exercises with our minds. Because initially, it’s with our focused minds that we are able to travel from one place to the other.

“You both know that basic Apparation is a matter of stretching out your mind to another destination, and pulling your body after it,” said Remus. “So what I want you to do is start by slowly casting out your mind and then I want you to snap it back. Sort of like a Muggle yo-yo. And I want you to use me as your focus point.”

Hermione nodded while Harry thought back to the lesson he had read on Apparation. He closed his eyes and opened his mind. It took a moment, but soon enough Remus began to take shape in his mind. His instructor looked the same in his mind’s eye as he did standing before him: hands clasped behind his back, his feet spread apart by a few inches, his eyes traveling from Harry to Hermione.

Harry cleared his head of all thoughts and images and concentrated solely on the man in front of him. He could feel his mind expanding and stretching out to Remus. And as instructed, he banished Remus’s image from his mind and he opened his eyes to find that Hermione had just opened hers.

“That was the strangest sensation,” Harry said aloud, rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t expect either of you to learn how to Apparate this very second. Apparation is tricky, sometimes even dangerous. You need to concentrate, and you need practice. You also will need a lot of patience,” Remus told them encouragingly. “Try again.”

They practiced some more, and after more than half an hour of casting out their minds to Remus, Harry was starting to feel more invigorated than tired--which was strange, because after using his mind this way for such a long period of time, he thought his brain would be mulch by now.

When he voiced this opinion, Remus merely smiled. “This is a way of freeing your mind. While Apparation does require a fair amount of concentration, Harry, this is a lot different from bombarding your mind with other things, like school lessons, or everyday life.

“Now--this time I want you to do the same thing as you did before. Stretch out your mind, use me as your focus point, but this time we’re going to play a little game. When you see me, I want you to tell me how many fingers I’m holding up. Remember: the key is to tell me what you see as quickly as possible. This will help speed up your mind. We’ll do a total of eleven rounds, and the person who gets the most answers correct can go back to the castle early.”

Ten minutes later, Hermione was grinning broadly as she waved good-bye to Remus and Harry.

“You know she’ll never let me live that one down,” Harry muttered with a faint smile.

“The score was close,” Remus said, with laughter in his hazel eyes. “We’ll practice some more...Twenty minutes should do it.”

After another ten minutes of practicing, Harry closed his eyes yet again. He stripped his mind blank, and found Remus behind his closed eyelids. The older wizard stood with arms clasped in front of him, regarding Harry with a thoughtful look. He was inches away from him in reality, all he had to do was stretch out his hand and he could touch Remus. But something in him fought that impulse. Somewhere he could hear a voice—his voice—telling him to follow his mind.

I can't, Harry told his mental self.

His mind debated, telling him that he could do it if he really wanted to.

He felt a curious sensation as though he had just touched a portkey, and was now hurtling through a portal of some kind. But just as quickly as it occurred, it stopped. When he opened his eyes, he found Remus smiling brilliantly at him.

“You nearly did it, Harry,” he said happily.

“I felt like--I had done it,” Harry said in awe. “But then--I pulled back. It was like I chickened out.”

“Let me guess--one part of your mind was telling you to follow, and the other argued with you?”

“That’s exactly what happened,” said Harry, rubbing his forehead as though hoping to massage some sense into his brain.

“That is bound to happen,” Remus told Harry. “Are you ready to have another go?”

Harry agreed and after another ten minutes, he heard Remus clap loudly. Harry knew he had just half-way Apparated again.

“This is your first try at it, Harry,” Remus reminded him. “That is a major accomplishment by any standards. I think that’s it for today. Same time on Friday?”

When they said their good-byes, Harry made the slow march back to Hogwarts castle, all the while practicing at Apparation. He continually cast out his mind ahead of him, finding a spot he knew existed just beyond his vision, and when his mind found it, he could see exactly what was happening.

In his mind he could see Dervish and Banges, and watched as an old wizard sat outside the music shop, carving a stylish flute out of wood. He snapped his mind back, and sure enough when he physically passed the shop, the same old wizard was still there, still carving the same flute.

As he kept practicing, he soon came to realize that he was approaching the Hogwarts gates. He knew he would no longer be able to practice once he was back on the Hogwarts grounds. He stood outside the gates for a moment, curiosity nipping at the back of his mind as it so often did.

Was it possible that he could Apparate around the school grounds? The lake, perhaps? Or even the Forbidden Forest? He closed his eyes and envisioned the school grounds, from the lake to the forest, to the Quidditch pitch. He searched and searched, realizing that he could not see the Quidditch stadium, or even the lake where the giant squid lived. His mind was open to only one part of the grounds. One man appeared in his mind, his towering, overgrown form making his way towards the Forbidden Forest, carrying what appeared to be three large burlap sacks in his arms.

Harry’s mind followed Hagrid into the Forest, and he watched with keen wonder until Hagrid suddenly disappeared. For a short and disappointing instant, Harry thought the reason he could no longer see Hagrid was because he had traveled too far into the woods, and perhaps there were certain parts of the Forest where one couldn’t Apparate to. But then his logic kicked in. His mind couldn’t possibly have been blocked, because he could still see the trees and plants where Hagrid had once been standing. Another thought occurred to him--one that made even less sense than his first assumption. It was as though Hagrid had literally vanished into thin air. Could he have Apparated?

Harry’s question remained unanswered as he decisively made his way past the gates and towards the Forbidden Forest. And again, the logical voice in his head reminded him that Hagrid was not a fully trained wizard, and therefore was unable to Apparate. What other explanation could there be?

Even with the brilliant sun shining down on Hogwarts’ grounds, the Forest had a terrifying aspect to it that still made Harry feel uneasy to that very day, no matter how many other times he had entered the foreboding woods. He had seen far too much in these woods not to know better. He kept his hand steady on his wand, which was hidden in his robes.

He was approaching the clearing where Hagrid had vanished, and Harry slowed his pace, peeling his eyes for any clue as to where Hagrid had disappeared. He stepped forward, his left hand slightly stretched out, and to his amazement and horror, the hand vanished! Yet he felt a strange familiarity at this revelation, and he stretched out his other hand, which also vanished. Taking a daring plunge-- his heart pounding-- he took two full steps and watched his whole body miraculously disappear, before pulling his head afterwards.

And what he saw then made him lose his voice and any coherent thought. He saw Hagrid, whose back was turned to him. The half-giant seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Harry had discovered his hideout. The large burlap sacks Harry had seen Hagrid carrying into the forest now sat to the side on the grassy ground, while Hagrid stood in front of a giant-sized cage humming jovially to--

Harry stumbled backwards, hardly able to believe it! It just couldn't be, he thought frantically. Harry reappeared in the forest. He raced through the trees, jumping over jutting roots and strewn about rocks, and up to the castle, through the oaken doors and before he had reached Gryffindor tower, he heard two familiar voices shouting for his attention.

He spun around and saw Ron and Hermione approaching him. Hermione had a pile of books in her hands and an empty-looking book bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Hey, mate,” greeted Ron, frowning curiously.

Harry stopped for a moment to catch his breath, all thoughts of what he had seen in the forest dwindling away for the time being.

“Why are you carrying your books?” he asked Hermione, not realizing the complete unimportance of this question.

“It’s easier this way,” Hermione told him, brushing away the observation with the wave of her free hand. “Did you run all the way here from Hogsmeade, Harry?”

“Then why are you carrying a book bag?” Harry asked.

“To look cool, of course,” Hermione replied. “Now--what’s happened? You’re all sweaty--“

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, turning sober. “I need you both to come with me now. There’s something I have got to show you.”

Author's Note: Well, what exactly did Harry see in the Forbidden Forest? What is Hagrid up to now? Answers and more are to follow in the next chapter. And I hope you enjoyed this one. Later, peeps!

Chapter 18: Bulgarian Devil's Bane
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, and other pairings on the way. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Hagrid's secret is revealed, some questions are asked, some are answered.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. Anything you don't recognize in this chapter belongs to me and/or Gary Skinner.

Special Thanks: A great, big Thank you goes to Gary Skinner, who is more than just a beta--he's a great friend. And I would love to thank the readers and reviewers for sticking around for this long. Someday, I'll finish this story. Someday...

Enjoy!

Harry sped across the muddy Hogwarts grounds, followed closely by Hermione and a suddenly very reluctant Ron.

It took a moment for Harry and Hermione to realize that Ron was no longer with them. They both turned around to find their red-headed friend staring open-mouthed and silent at the Forbidden Forest, which now stood mere feet in front of them.

"Ron, come on," Harry insisted.

"You are not going to convince me to go in there," Ron said with wide, angry-looking eyes.

"We're not going in that far," Harry told him. "What I have to show you, it's...it's not that bad," he said hesitantly, knowing deep down that it was pretty bad. It didn't matter, though. Hermione and Ron just had to see what he had seen.

Ron shook his head forcefully. "I'm perfectly content standing here, thanks. In fact, I just remembered I have to meet Leah--" He made to turn back to the castle, but Hermione grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Ron, you have to come with us," she said in a gentle tone. Ron looked back at her. "Because we're a team--and what Harry wants to show us...it just wouldn't be the same without you."

"Hermione's right," Harry agreed. "And I promise—this is the last time I’ll ever drag you in here."

Ron looked at Harry and then Hermione again, thinking deeply. He nodded and they took long strides, closing the distance between them and the dark trees.

“And don’t expect me to hold you to that promise,” Ron said bitterly.

Harry looked over his shoulder. “Why not?”

“Because I know you’ll break it,” Ron answered dryly just as they entered the woods. They each closed a hand on their wands and shortened their steps, staying close to each other.

"I think...it was just over here," Harry whispered, turning off the path and turning diagonally. "Follow me, and keep your eyes peeled."

Hermione and Ron obeyed without further complaints or questions. A moment later, Harry found the exact spot where he had seen Hagrid disappear, and where Harry, himself, had vanished only moments before. He reached out his hand, which automatically dematerialized. He heard Hermione gasp behind him.

"This is it. Follow me directly afterwards, alright?" Harry instructed. He turned his head in time to see Hermione and Ron nodding, their eyes trained on Harry's invisible hand.

Harry stepped through the barrier, his whole body vanishing. His eyes landed on Hagrid, who still had yet to notice his visitor. A moment later, Hermione appeared at his side, followed closely by Ron.

"Harry--what?" Hermione whispered, but Harry pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.

He turned to see Ron's face, which seemed to be frozen in a silent scream. His face was pale and shiny with sweat. His eyes had landed on the cage.

Harry turned back to the half-giant. "Hagrid?"

Hagrid jumped and turned at the same time, his large hand covering the spot where his heart was.

"Blimey, Harry! I ain't as young as I once was, yeh know! Give a bloke a great 'eart attack!"

Harry stepped forward, the creatures in the cage coming into his view. Hermione was busy trying to shake Ron out of his stupor.

"Hagrid--what are you doing?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shifted from one foot to the other, looking uneasy and slightly put-off. "Oh, so yeh found out what I've bin up ter, have yeh?"

"I only just found out...I saw you walking into the woods and then I watched you vanish into thin air," Harry explained quickly. "Are you shielded by some sort of Invisibility barrier?"

"That's righ'," Hagrid replied gruffly. "It was all I could do ter take care of these little fellers." His giant-sized hand pointed to the cage.

Four small creatures were sleeping peacefully in the large cage. They were black, with small horns coming out of their spines, scaly wings, and long, pointed faces. Even as hideous as they appeared to be, it was still easy for Harry to recognize them as dragons. Four very well fed and exhausted dragons.

"Hagrid," Hermione said softly, taking a brave step forward until she was standing next to Harry. "You're not allowed to use magic. How have you been able to use an Invisibility Charm to shield these ... dragons?"

Hagrid, still looking apprehensive, looked back at the cage of sleeping dragons as he spoke. "Ter tell yeh the truth, I've bin practisin' magic with Professor Dumbledore. He...he said tha' since I was proven innocen', my magical privileges shoulda bin restored."

"Hagrid! That's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed.

Hagrid looked back at Harry and Hermione, his cheeks slightly flushing at such praise.

"I'm hopin' I can stop usin' this ole' thin'," he said, narrowing slightly at the pink umbrella laying on the ground at his feet. "If the Ministry will allow me ter buy a new wan'."

"I'm sure they will," Harry said encouragingly.

"But I have to say, Hagrid," Hermione continued, "Bringing a nest full of dragons to Hogwarts is extremely dangerous. Not to mention careless."

Behind them, Ron gave a strangled sound. Harry ignored him.

"I had ter, Hermione!" Hagrid exclaimed, his voice booming. He cleared his throat and continued to talk more softly. "These poor babies were left fer dead. Someone had ter look after 'em."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "But not you, Hagrid. This is a school."

"Well, Hermione, this is the Ferbidden Fores'," Hagrid corrected her. "And any studen' who feels the need ter come in 'ere migh' deserve wha' they get."

"Hagrid!" Hermione gasped. "You don't mean that!"

Hagrid looked slightly abashed. "Yer righ', I don'. But on the brigh' side, these fellers are in a cage."

"You're right, Hagrid," Harry suddenly realized. "They are still babies. Where is their mother?"

"Gone, ain't she?" said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious answer in the world. When Harry and Hermione didn't say anything, Hagrid gave a weary sigh. He clearly did not want to discuss these dragons with them. "I gotta friend who...breeds dragons illegally."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something against this, but Harry grasped her hand and squeezed it gently--a silent plea, telling her not to speak.

Hagrid continued as though he hadn't noticed any of this. "A while ago, me mate was found nearly dead an’ the mother-dragon gone. These poor babies were lef' ter die. I got an owl from Mikey--me mate--beggin' me fer 'elp. So...I gotta hold of ole' Mundungus Fletcher...yeh know he'd do anythin' illegal fer gold," he added with a smirk. "And 'e brought 'em over. I bin takin' care of 'em e'er since."

Ron gave another choked sound.

"There were more dragon eggs," Hagrid continued in a quiet tone. "Most o' them were crushed, an' th' others tha' hatched died, bein' the smallest o' the nest. These four were th' on'y ones who survived, bein' the stronges'. If Mikey hadn' owled me in time, these babies also would've died."

"But who would take the mother-dragon and leave the babies to die?" Hermione asked a moment later. "Are you sure she was taken at all? Is it possible that she simply left?"

Hagrid looked furious at the question, making Hermione take a step backwards. "O' course not! Mother dragons...leave their babies!? Tha's the most ludicrous thin' I e'er 'eard!"

"It's not in their nature," Ron finally said, his voice raspy. "It's the mothers' first instinct to care for their children. Leaving of their free will is never an option."

"But maybe...maybe with this breed it is," Hermione suggested timidly, not looking at Hagrid, but trying to appeal to Ron.

Ron shook his head just as Hagrid gently thrust a book into Hermione's arms, knocking her over. Harry caught her in time and put her back on her feet.

"Ye'll learn all yeh need to know about this breed in tha' book," Hagrid told Hermione.

Hermione looked down at the book. "Is this the same book we saw you with in the library, Hagrid?"

Hagrid nodded as Hermione began to flip through the book.

"I can tell you all you'll need to know about this breed," Ron said, his face still pale. "The Bulgarian Devil's Bane. The most dangerous breed that exists--that ever existed."

"Tha's righ'," Hagrid agreed.

"They become very large when they reach adult-size. They're extremely mean, with a terrible temper. And they have the hottest fire in the wizarding world," Ron continued, as though in a trance. "Dark wizards favored them...because only Dark magic could control the Devil's Bane. Do you remember learning that dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock's Convention of 1709?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, as she flipped absent-mindedly through the book Hagrid had given her.

"Now you know why," Ron told them. "Because of this breed. And now Hagrid has brought them here." He said the last part weakly, as though this was nothing more than a bad dream and he was expecting to wake up at any moment.

Harry looked at the dragons again, a sense of familiarity overwhelming him. It only took him a moment to realize that he had seen these dragons before. Or at least one of them -- in his vision at the end of February in Trelawney's class. 'Black wings blocking out the sun.' At the time, he had been convinced that he had seen nothing more than a thestral. But now...

"Here's something interesting," said Hermione, drawing Harry's attention away from his vision. Unable to stay put, she walked around as she read from the book. "It says here that dragons have a homing-sense linking them to their mother, enabling them to fly straight to her when they're old enough to fly." She stopped walking as she looked at Hagrid. "There you go! You can let them go soon enough, and they'll be able to find their mother."

Hagrid looked away, his beetle-black eyes flashing with disappointment.

"Hagrid..." Hermione said pleadingly. "You know you can't keep them. They belong with their mother. And besides, if someone else discovered you were keeping such a dangerous breed of dragons, you could get into a lot of trouble."

Hagrid shook his great, shaggy head. "I know tha'," he said gruffly.

Hermione looked at the half-giant apologetically. "Will you promise us you'll let them go when they're old enough? That still gives you a couple of months."

Hagrid didn't say anything. He merely shrugged and gave a short nod.

"I think that's the most you'll get out of him," Harry told Hermione, turning to her.

He realized she was standing alarmingly close to the dragon cage, and it seemed that one of the baby dragons had just come to the same conclusion. The dragon closest to Hermione reared its pointed face at her, its eyes flashing menacingly. It quickly pounced at Hermione as a long breath of fire came out of its flaring nostrils.

"Get away from her!" Harry shouted, lunging forward, grasping Hermione and pulling her out of harm's way. To everyone's surprise, the dragon stared at Harry as though seriously considering his words. And without another thought, it obeyed as it settled back down and closed its eyes.

Harry checked Hermione over, making sure she hadn't been scorched by the dragon's fire.

"I'm OK, Harry," she breathed, her eyes wide.

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hagrid regarding him with the same look.

"What is it?" he asked, turning back to the dragons, who were all sleeping peacefully. His eyes returned to his three friends who continued to look at him in shock.

"OK..." Ron finally said, seemingly unsure of what to say or do.

"Harry?" said Hermione, scrutinizing Harry. "Did you deliberately speak in Parseltongue to that dragon?"

Harry stared at Hermione, her words sinking in very slowly. "I...just spoke...in Parseltongue?"

Hermione nodded, her worst thoughts confirmed. "What did you tell it to do?"

Harry felt numb all over. Suddenly, flashes of his Second year were spinning through his head--none of them good memories.

"I...told it to get away from you," Harry whispered, his arms falling to his side as feelings of helplessness washed over him. It was difficult to remind himself that he was nearly an adult and far from helpless.

Hermione's arms went around him instinctively. She squeezed him, trying to wash away all the bad memories. Her touch seemed to warm his very heart, driving his past far away where it couldn’t haunt him anymore.

"But how?" Harry asked weakly as Hermione stepped back. "How did I speak to the dragon...in Parseltongue?"

"Well--yer a Parselmouth, ain't yeh?" Hagrid spoke up.

"Yes..." Harry replied slowly. "But these are not snakes, Hagrid."

"Dragons are kin ter snakes, Harry. They're both reptiles," Hagrid replied knowledgeably. "And because they're so young and ain't as violen'... they'll listen ter yeh."

"Wait a second," Ron said, suddenly skeptical. "If that's the case--then why didn't we discover that Harry was a Parselmouth in First year, when you had Norbert?"

"Because Harry never addressed Norbert," Hermione said softly. "There would be no reason for the dragon to respond."

"Tha's righ'," Hagrid agreed, his eyes going soft at the mention of his beloved pet dragon, Norbert.

"Do you think I could borrow this book, Hagrid?" Hermione asked the older wizard, holding the large book up. "Can I take it home with me and return it after Easter break?"

"O' course yeh can, Hermione," Hagrid replied cheerily. "I've read it from co'er to co'er. It's all up 'ere," he told them, tapping the side of his head and winking at the trio.

Harry, Hermione and Ron left then, saying good-bye and glancing one last time at the sleeping dragons.

"Unbelievable," Ron gasped, once they were out of the forest.

"Which part?" asked Harry wryly. "The fact that Hagrid is keeping the most dangerous breed of dragons that ever existed locked up in the Forbidden Forest, or the fact that I can talk to them?"

Ron laughed. "Both."

"This will make a good read for when we go home for Easter, Harry," said Hermione, nodding to the book clutched in her arms.

Harry felt a sudden rush of emotion as Hermione referred to his home as her home. Suddenly the fact that Hagrid was caring for a clutch of dragons no longer seemed to matter.

"Speaking of Easter," said Ron. "Will you two continue your Apparation training there?"

Hermione and Harry both shrugged. "That depends... Remus will be too tired to train us, as that weekend is a full moon," Hermione reminded them both. "I suppose if Sirius wanted to, he could continue training us in Remus's place."

"Lucky kids," Ron muttered enviously. "I won't be able to get my Apparation license until this summer."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked him, as though she had thought of this question before but had never bothered to ask it. "You could have earned your license last summer, easily."

"Didn't have the money, did I?" Ron told her. "But it's alright. Ginny will be old enough this summer to get her Apparation license. We're going to get it together. And we'll both be able to afford it."

"Good," Hermione said. Sensing Ron's moodiness, she added, "Apparation isn't that great, Ron. It's really difficult to learn. Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Is that how you found out about the dragons?" Ron asked Harry, suddenly inspired by a thought.

"Yeah--how'd you know?" Harry asked.

"You just got back from your first Apparation lesson," Ron pointed out logically. "And I know at least this much: According to my brothers, in order to Apparate, you need to 'see' ahead before you actually Apparate. I simply guessed that that’s what you were doing when you discovered Hagrid and the dragons."

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron as they continued to make their way to the castle. It was extremely rare and out-of-character for Ron to sound so... insightful.

"But I never understood why you needed to ‘see’ ahead. Never made much sense to me," Ron added. Harry laughed through his nose.

"Think about it this way," Hermione said, getting ready to recite her knowledge as though she was reading the text straight from a book. "If we didn't see where we were going before Apparating, we could appear in a very dangerous situation! Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup? When Barty Crouch Apparated straight into our campsite? If he hadn't 'seen' where he was going, he could have landed in our fire!"

"That's right," Ron agreed. "But if that's the case--couldn't you simply spy on others as you're ‘seeing’ ahead?"

Hermione shook her head. "Your father Apparates to and from work every day, right? Haven't you considered why perfect strangers can't Apparate into your home?"

"No," said Ron.

Hermione sighed, her tone roughened by exasperation. "Because there are blocking spells around the Burrow," she explained. "Protective spells. Only certain people can enter or exit your home via Apparation. I believe it's limited to your family and close friends. In that case, others who can't Apparate into your home can't 'see' into it, either."

"This applies to...every wizarding building and house?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"Of course it does," said Hermione with a logical air about her. "Otherwise, thieves could just as easily 'see' into any wizarding building and break in. Or worse--they could break into wizarding homes and kidnap children, or act out in violence." Hermione shuddered. "How could you sleep at night, knowing you aren't protected?"

Harry rubbed Hermione’s back reassuringly.

"In actuality," Hermione continued, shooting a grateful look at Harry, "We wizards have about as much privacy as Muggles. We can spy on each other outside, by means of telescopes or binoculars--Omnioculars. But we cannot see through walls."

"Well that makes a load of sense," said Ron. "Don't know why I never thought of it."

"Because your mind is on a certain 5th year Gryffindor," Harry quickly replied.

Ron laughed. "Oh, that's right. Which brings me back to the topic of Easter weekend. I take it you two are going back?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "You're coming, too, right?"

Ron didn't say anything at first.

"Ron?" Harry prompted, peering at the red-head.

"Well--I was thinking of staying back," Ron finally told them. "To keep Leah company."

"You could just as easily keep her company at the Burrow," suggested Harry.

"I could, if Mum and Dad were staying there for the holidays," Ron told them.

"Where are they going?" Hermione asked.

They continued talking as they walked into the castle, through the Entrance Hall and up the marble staircase.

"They've just sent me an owl telling me and Ginny that they're going to visit Charlie and his girlfriend for Easter. So we're going to stay here."

"But you could stay with us," Harry insisted. "With me, Sirius, Hermione and Remus. You, Ginny and Leah are more than welcome--"

"We know that," said Ron. "But Leah and I have decided...well..." Ron's ears went slightly pink. "We'd like to have the weekend alone..." He didn't look at Harry or Hermione as he spoke.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing. "If that's how you feel, then of course we're OK with it! There's nothing to be worried about."

Ron glanced at her hopefully. "Really? You two aren't angry?"

Harry laughed with Hermione. "We'll manage to survive without you this Easter," he said.

"We'll find some way!" Hermione exclaimed, sighing dramatically. Ron smiled, looking very relieved.

They reached the portrait of the fat lady. "Not a word to anyone about what we just saw, alright?" Harry reminded them.

They both nodded and Harry gave the password before entering their common room. They ran into Leah, who was just about to step through the portrait hole from the opposite side.

"Ron, I was looking for you! Hey, guys!" she added to Harry and Hermione.

Ron's ears went slightly pink again. "Everything's set," he told her.

Leah smiled brightly. "Wonderful!"

"Did you want to go to Hogsmeade on Easter weekend?" Ron asked her.

"I'd love to!" Leah gushed. Ron led Leah out of the portrait hole as they discussed their Easter plans.

"I am so grateful that they found each other," said Hermione once the portrait hole was closed off once again.

Harry pulled her into his embrace, holding her lovingly.

"And I'm so glad we found each other," he told her. "Thank Merlin for that Mountain troll all those years ago."

Hermione giggled. "That's easy for you to say, Harry." She looked up at him with a happy grin on her face.

"Actually, a couple of years ago...it was the most difficult thing for me to say," he admitted. "But now I can say it all the time! I love you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled coyly up at him. "What did you just say? I didn't quite hear you."

"I love you," Harry said, raising his voice an octave.

"Pardon me?" said Hermione, inclining her head.

"I, Harry James Potter, am in love--Oh, bugger hell!" He smothered her lips with his own, kissing her with all the passion he possessed.

"Bugger hell, indeed," came Seamus Finnigan's voice from the boys' stairs. "A hundred points from Gryffindor for indecent exposure!"

"We can't take points from our own Head Boy and Girl, mate," Dean Thomas said lightly.

Seamus shrugged. "It's just as well. We never had the power to take away points from anyone, let alone our Head Boy and Girl."

"And if we wanted to see that," Dean added to Harry and a flustered Hermione, "We'd pay a visit to that dance club in Knockturn Alley."

Hermione gave a horrified gasp. "That's not a dancing bar! It's the most distasteful, disgusting--"

"Exactly," said Seamus with a wink.

Hermione goggled at the two of them as they exited the common room, laughing at their own cleverness.

Rain pounded down from the dark skies above. It was raining so badly that it became difficult to see out of the car windows as Remus drove Harry, Hermione and Ginny to Sirius and Harry's home.

"I'm just glad Mum and Dad didn't mind me coming here with you," Ginny told her companions as she stared pointlessly out the window through the passenger's seat window.

"Which reminds me, Ginny. There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Harry told her, leaning forward so he she could hear him more clearly.

"Yes?" Ginny wondered, tilting her head back.

Harry paused a moment, then took an imaginary brave step forward. "You need to tell your family about Draco."

Ginny didn't say anything. She returned her gaze to the outside world, where the rain pounded even harder than before.

"Ron is getting dangerously close to the truth," Harry continued. "And if he finds out the wrong way--"

"I'm well aware of what will happen," Ginny replied coolly.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Harry reminded her, his tone soft. "I'm trying to warn you."

Ginny didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, and Harry was smart enough to know not to push it.

"Sirius is already inside," Remus told them as they approached the house. "He said he'd be upstairs. Would it be better to leave your trunks in the car until the rain slows down?"

They all agreed to Remus's suggestion and they all ran from the car to the veranda, while Harry fumbled in his pocket for the house key. Once he managed to insert the silver key into the key hole, he pushed the door open, grabbed Hermione and pulled her over the threshold.

"We're safe, my love," he whispered in her ear, bringing her into his arms as he and Hermione blocked the doorway. Hermione giggled as Harry kissed her softly on the lips.

"Oh--don't worry about us!" Ginny exclaimed sarcastically. "I don't mind spending my Easter weekend with pneumonia."

Harry and Hermione moved out of the way, allowing a soaked Ginny and Remus to enter the house. Remus closed the door behind him as he shook his head forcefully, reminding Harry of a wet dog just in from the rain. Ginny grabbed her strands by the fistful and squeezed the rain from her fiery hair.

"Sorry for making you angry, Ginny," Harry said, referring to their short conversation in the car and shooting her a cautious glance.

The younger girl sighed. "Don't worry about it," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I guess I just don't like thinking about it. And this is the first weekend I get to spend without...fear."

"I understand," Harry told her, smiling. "And to show my sincerity, I promise not to mention it the rest of the weekend!"

Ginny laughed. "Thanks..."

After taking off their coats and shoes, the four of them made their way upstairs to the attic, where Sirius supposedly was hanging out. Sure enough, the attic door had been left open. Harry climbed the steps first, his head entering the floor of a spacious room which had been lit with numerous lamps. Up here, the rain sounded much louder to his ears.

"Wow," he whispered. He had never been in the attic before. In fact, this didn't seem like an attic at all. It looked more like a loft. And it appeared to Harry that it had been used as a flat before. To his left, there was another room which—to Harry’s best guess-- had been used as a bedroom. The rest of the attic was filled with sheet-covered furniture and boxes. The hardwood floor Harry and the others were now standing on was covered in a sheet of dust. Only Sirius's footprints were visible, leading to the far end of the attic.

"Glad you made it here alive," Sirius's voice echoed back at them. He appeared amongst the many boxes piled in a far corner. His handsome face split into a grin as his eyes landed on Harry and his guests.

"What is this, Sirius?" said Harry, glancing around.

Ginny and Hermione made their way around the room, examining small details and interesting objects they came across.

"This--" Sirius said, spreading his arms out wide, "--Is my new hobby. I'm planning to clean this place out and turn it into a flat--which won't be so difficult, as it was clearly used as an apartment years before we bought this place."

"Why?" Harry wondered. "Are you planning to turn this place into a motel after I move out?" he suggested, laughing.

Sirius scratched his head in a thoughtful manner just as Hermione exclaimed, "This place is amazing!"

"Well...I've been thinking," said Sirius, dropping his arm to his side.

"Uh oh," Remus said softly, grinning.

Sirius glared at his old friend. "This time it's a good idea," he replied indignantly. His eyes went to Harry again. "Since you and Hermione are graduating in a few months, it's my best guess that you two will want to find your own flat to rent?"

At the mention of her name, Hermione immediately returned to Harry's side with a curious frown on her face.

"That seems to be the plan," said Harry, glancing at Hermione for confirmation. She nodded.

"Well...what if you stayed here?" Sirius suggested lightly. "You'll have all the privacy you need."

Harry felt his heart catch in his throat. The idea seemed too perfect to be true. But how would Hermione feel about it? He looked at her glowing face. It looked as though she wanted to accept the proposal on the spot.

"I know it doesn't look like much now," Sirius continued. "But there's a fireplace! And look--all the furniture you'll need! And of course I won't be charging you for rent."

"We want it," Harry said quickly.

"Well, of course I didn't really expect you two to--what?" Sirius said, his mouth dropping.

"We'll take it," Hermione replied, practically bursting with excitement.

Sirius looked from Harry's face to Hermione's, the smile on his face widening. "Really? You--you want it?"

"We want it," Harry and Hermione said together, returning the smile.

"You just made Sirius's year," said Remus, jumping in. "He thought this idea up ages ago."

"I never actually thought you'd...want to..." Sirius admitted.

"We couldn't ask for better," Hermione assured him. "It's a great area, just outside of town. We can remain in close contact with the Weasleys, you, and Remus."

"But we insist on paying rent. It's not like we won't be able to afford it," Harry said. "I've still got some money saved up, and I intend to find a job as soon as I graduate."

"I knew you'd say that," said Sirius, grinning. "And I've already got a plan."

Harry stared at Sirius suspiciously. "What's your plan?"

"To turn a deaf ear to you whenever you mention paying rent," Sirius replied shortly, before turning his back on them.

Hermione laughed just as Ginny gave a great shout. "Look at this, guys!" She removed a large, dusty sheet from what appeared to be a beautiful, mahogany piano.

Harry and Hermione made their way to the large instrument, awe painted on their faces. "Who would leave this here?" Hermione wondered, her fingers trailing across the black and white keys.

Harry looked back at Sirius, who had suddenly lost the smile on his face. Harry glanced at Remus and noticed the same expression on his face as well. They both looked so...sad.

"What's wrong?" he asked them.

It took a moment for Sirius to snap out of his very depressing mood, and he flashed everyone a brilliant, but fake, smile. "I need to go into town and get some groceries. Would you girls like to join me?"

Ginny and Hermione agreed enthusiastically.
"But I'm driving," Hermione insisted while holding out her hand, where Remus promptly dropped the car keys into her palm.

"Fine by me," said Sirius with a nonchalant shrug. "I hate driving in this weather."

They all made their way downstairs, Sirius closing the attic door with a wave of his wand after everyone was out.

"We'll greet and entertain Draco until you get back," Harry told Ginny at the front door, as Hermione, Ginny and Sirius slipped on their coats and shoes.

"Which should be any moment now," Ginny said, casually flipping her still-wet hair behind her.

"Good luck shopping with Sirius," Remus said to Ginny and Hermione. "He's an impossible shopper sometimes."

"Hey!" Sirius shot Remus another indignant look.

"Why do you think he wants you two to go with him?" Remus told the girls. "It's because he knows he'll only come back with junk food. He needs you two to keep him in line."

"Ha-ha," Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes.

Hermione opened the door and they all watched the rain continue to pound down into the earth. Ginny and Hermione instinctively lifted the hoods to their coats over their heads.

"Have fun!" Harry said brightly.

Hermione grumbled something about the rain making her hair frizz up into a rat's nest before she led the way outside, followed by Sirius and Ginny. Harry waited until all three of them were in the car before he closed the door and turned to Remus.

"I don't think this rain is going to let up anytime soon," said the werewolf, leading the way into the living room.

The room looked exactly the same as they had left it the previous Christmas. The only difference was that the tree was gone and the decorations were put away into storage. Harry felt privately relieved that he wouldn't have to leave this house anytime soon after graduation. He still had a place to live, and he could live with Hermione as planned. But mostly...he wasn't exactly ready to leave Sirius. And knowing he didn't have to, and thinking of his new situation, made him feel like he had just entered a room full of Eternals.

Harry glanced at the mantle, looking at each framed photo as he did by habit every time he was in this room. Something caught his eye then, something he had never noticed before. He frowned, completely puzzled, as he approached the fireplace to get a closer look at the photo which had left him feeling bewildered.

It was the one of Lily, James, Sirius and Remus, all smiling and giggling in the photo. Harry had always assumed that it was Peter who had taken the photo. But now there was a new face in the picture. A pretty face, framed by long, black hair. Her deep sapphire eyes twinkled at the camera, topped with a very radiant smile. Her creamy skin was slightly flushed as her body was pressed into Sirius, his arm thrown around her as he pulled her even closer.

Harry had seen this face once before, in the black and white photo he had found in Sirius's top dresser drawer. He knew the girl in the photo as Claire White, his godmother. But why hadn't he noticed her in this photograph before? Had she always been there? And if not, then why was she there now? He was about to ask Remus these questions just as the fireplace burst with green flames and the shape of Draco Malfoy appeared. The blond Slytherin stumbled out of the fireplace and Harry instinctively grabbed his trunk before Draco could trip over it.

"Safe trip?" Harry asked, managing to stifle a laugh at Draco's sooty appearance.

"It could have been better," Draco replied, smoothing down his cloak and wiping the soot from his grey eyes.

"It could have been worse, too," Harry reminded him, having traveled by Floo powder before. The first time he had ever tried it, he had ended up in Knockturn Alley, where he had seen Lucius Malfoy for the first time.

Ridding himself of dark thoughts of the past, Harry busied himself by enlisting Draco’s help with the trunk on the floor. They both carried it upstairs to the spare bedroom, and when they returned to the main floor, they entered the kitchen to find Remus starting a fresh pot of coffee. The two young wizards sat at the kitchen table after re-discovering Harry’s game of Wizards Chess which had been collecting dust in the pantry on the top shelf.

"Tsk, tsk," Draco murmured, moments later into the game. Remus set a mug of coffee in front of him and Harry, placing the sugar and cream next to them, along with two spoons. "You really are the best chess player I've ever seen, Harry," Draco said, his voice laced with sarcasm, his grey eyes never leaving the board.

"Yeah..." Harry replied slowly as he moved his castle into the line of fire. "But in all honesty, I'm not nearly as good at playing chess as you are at playing Quidditch," he said with just as much acrimony, a smile on his face.

Remus laughed as Draco said, "That's below the belt, Potter."

A knock suddenly interrupted their game. Harry sighed, pretending to be disappointed that he had to delay the game. "I'll get it," he volunteered, as Remus finally sat down at the table. "I'm about to lose anyway."

"Dammit!" Draco cursed as Harry stood up and stepped out of the kitchen. He could still hear Draco's voice carry as he added, "He does that all the time!"

Harry made his way to the front door as the knocking became louder and more urgent.

"I'm coming!" Harry called, secretly pondering who could be knocking at the door and in this type of weather. It couldn't be any of the Weasleys, because none of them were even at the Burrow. He yanked open the door.

A young-looking woman stood on the veranda, her long, elbow-length black hair clinging to her face as the rain soaked her from head to toe. Her sapphire eyes shone at Harry, her pretty face glowing as she smiled apprehensively at Harry.

"Merlin!" Harry gasped. He felt the blood drain from his face. He instinctively clutched the door handle for support.

The woman giggled. "Well, I didn't actually believe introductions would be necessary. But I can see that you are clearly confused." Harry noticed the strength in her voice, and how it carried over the pounding of the rain. He vaguely noted that her unfamiliar accent was smooth and warm.

"My name is not Merlin," the young woman continued in a sweet tone, her shy grin turning into a brilliant smile. She thrust out her hand to shake Harry's. "You are more than welcome to call me by my name. I'm Claire."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you tune in for the next chapter, where we finally get to learn a few things about Claire. See you then!

Chapter 19: The Past Returns
Author: Fae Princess
E-Mail: Fae_Child@hotmail.com
Summary: Harry returns for his final year at Hogwarts and his love for Hermione is deeper than ever. Which is good; because dark clouds are hovering once again. H/Hr, D/G and others. This is a sequel to my first ever Harry Potter fanfic, "Snow".
Chapter Summary: Claire White has returned to the wizarding world. Or has she? Discover what happens when she comes face-to-face with those she left all those years ago. And what it might mean if she leaves them again.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, and all related names and phrases are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and/or their respective owners. This is a fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended. Anything else you see that you don't recognize (i.e Claire White) belongs to me.

Special Thanks: I would love to thank my beta, Gary Skinner, for all our wonderful HP chats, from crazy theories to things of lesser importance. (i.e when I tell him my life story). And I want to thank him for the amazing things he's done for this story--a story which wouldn't be the same without him. Also, I want to thank him for bringing me up when I'm down. (Which happens more than I care to admit at the moment).

Finally, I would like to thank the readers and reviewers who have expressed their interest in this story with extremely kind words. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as I continue to post. Thanks again, everyone. Read on! (And enjoy!)

"Claire!" Harry gasped. His hand automatically gripped the door handle, his knuckles turning white with the effort. He stared at the woman before him in silent disbelief, his knees shaking violently as he strove not to collapse onto his godmother’s sandal-clad feet.

Claire White tilted her head to the side, grinning at him. "You weren’t expecting the Easter bunny, were you?” She giggled softly at her attempted joke as she anxiously tucked a long lock of black hair behind her ear, her other hand casually holding the strap to her purse, which was slung over her shoulder.

Harry stared at Claire, knowing that the word ‘confused’ was an understatement as to how he felt at the moment. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Could his godmother really be standing there in front of him? Or had he simply imagined her, wanting to meet her so badly that his mind had simply conjured an image for him? His rational mind told him that even that was a far stretch. But again, the thought of her being here, at his house, didn’t make much sense, either.

When Harry’s voice continued to fail him, Claire's smiling face slowly faded into an expression of worry. "Harry?"

The floor creaked softly behind him before he could gather the presence of mind to finally speak, and he watched Claire’s dark eyes move past his face to the one responsible for making the sound. "Harry -- who's at...the..." Remus's footsteps fell silent along with his voice. Harry didn't bother to turn around. He could only continue gawking at Claire, too stunned to blink.

"Oh...my..." Remus whispered behind him.

Claire's eyes suddenly welled up with tears as she stared past Harry and into Remus’s young face. Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she spoke. "Hey, R.J," she greeted softly, her voice deep with affection.

Remus didn't say anything at first. And when he finally did speak, his voice was filled with disbelief and wariness. "This isn't real.” His doubt-filled voice came out no louder than a whisper.

Claire placed her hand over her heart as a tear fell. "I...I think I'm real," she said, daring to attempt more humor. "I...feel real." The smile had returned to her face, her eyes shining. Harry had the distinct impression that her smile had lit up plenty of rooms on many occasions before now.

He felt Remus brush past him as he approached Claire, who still stood outside in the pouring rain, looking more wary than ever. The older man searched her face, his disbelieving eyes scrutinizing every detail. Without another word, he gently pulled her inside by tugging on the sleeve of her black trench coat. Claire hesitated, clearly surprised by Remus’s actions.

But she quickly grew out of her anxiety as Remus threw himself onto her, squeezing her tightly in a bone-crushing embrace. But that didn’t seem to matter to her, because she was hugging him back with equal fervor, tears freely streaming down her pretty face.

It was a while before they pulled back slightly as Claire wiped her tears away with her fingers. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry," she said brokenly, looking up into Remus's face as he looked down at her fondly.

"I can't believe it's you!" Remus gasped in response, wrapping his arms around her again. Claire's relieved laugh was deep and rich as she continued to cling to him. Remus pulled back again. "It is you, right? I'm not...imagining things?"

"Now when did the logical, sensible R.J Lupin I knew ever seek entertainment by deluding himself?" Claire teased with her hands on her slender hips, her eyebrows quirked as a knowing smile lit up her face. "I'm as real as you are."

Remus smiled at her, his hazel eyes glowing with repressed tears. "You haven't aged at all!"

"Thank God," Claire replied, rolling her eyes Heaven-ward. "It's bad enough I'm approaching 40 years old. The last thing I need is to look it."

"Thanks," Remus said with a sarcastic smile, glancing upwards.

Without the hesitancy she had adopted when she had first arrived, Claire ran her long, slender fingers across Remus’s hair. "What...this?" she said, referring to the few grey hairs on his head. "R.J, you don't look a day over 20. I swear it."

"You haven't changed a bit," Remus replied with a chuckle. "Still sweeter than honey."

Claire gave a modest laugh and glanced at Harry, who had finally removed himself from his stunned stupor. He closed the door gently, shutting out the rain, and turned to find Remus regarding him with a suspicious look in his eye.

"It wasn't me this time!" Harry exclaimed, understanding the look and feeling slightly annoyed by it. "I swear!”

Remus took a deep breath and sighed as Claire looked from one face to the other.

"Don’t mind him, Claire,” Remus finally explained with a wry smile. “Harry has a habit of keeping secrets and then springing them on us at the last possible moment.”

"Ah," said Claire as she nodded understandingly. "Just like his mother. And he didn't have anything to do with this, R.J. I came on my own. Sirius doesn't even know I'm here."

"He's not here right now," Remus told her. "He went into town to buy some food."

Claire nodded, lowering her face. "It's probably better this way. I can't imagine how he'll react when he finds me here." She paused as she seemed to be considering something, and then she added with a nervous laugh: "I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I should leave."

"No!" Harry and Remus both exclaimed. And Claire, startled by the volume and the vehemence in their voices, gave a small jump backwards.

Harry looked at his godmother apologetically, which soon transformed into a warm smile. "I'm a little in shock. I think,” he added as an afterthought.

Tears welled up in Claire's eyes once more as she looked up at Harry, slowly approaching him, her hand slowly reaching out, yet not touching him. "You look just like him," she whispered. "Sirius always told me -- in his letters – but I never dreamed the resemblance was this strong. Except for your -- "

"Eyes. I know," Harry interrupted her with another smile. "I have my mother's eyes."

A quiet sob escaped Claire. "Yes, but that's not what I was going to say," she said softly, her onyx eyes searching his green ones. “You have her smile." Tears fell down her cheeks once again, yet she didn't bother to wipe them away this time. "You are so handsome!" she suddenly exclaimed, laughing at her own enthusiasm.

Harry laughed with her, feeling himself going red. Claire turned back to Remus. "Can I hug him?"

Remus shrugged his shoulders. "He's your godson," he reminded her.

Harry felt tears burning his eyes and was thankful they didn’t fall as Claire wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him with all the strength her slender body possessed. As they pulled apart, Harry realized, upon closer inspection, that Remus had been right. There were no lines of age on Claire’s face, nor any grey hairs in her black mane to betray her true age. She looked as young and vibrant as the girl in the photograph on the fireplace mantle.

"Why don't we all go back into the kitchen," Remus suddenly suggested. "You look like you could use some coffee, Claire. And a nice Drying Charm, as well."

The older wizard helped Claire out of her coat and he hung it up in the closet as Claire slid out of her shoes. They migrated into the kitchen, where Draco had been waiting patiently. His eyes landed on Claire and he slowly stood up, his eyes shadowed with curiosity.

Claire stopped short. And she stared at Draco for a moment, her eyes slowly registering to the sight in front of her.

"Harry," she said slowly, not taking her eyes off of Draco. "You do realize that there is a Malfoy sitting in your kitchen, right?"

"Er — " Harry replied, acutely aware that nothing good was going to come out of this situation. He had never explained to Claire about Draco while they had owled each other over the past few months. He only just realized that he probably should have. A realization that came far too late.

"In which case you must know what the Malfoys did to help destroy your parents. Right?"

"Yes, but -- Draco didn’t have anything to do with that," Harry interjected quickly. “He was only a baby, remember?”

"Yes..." said Claire, very slowly and carefully. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Harry?"

"Claire--" Remus began pleadingly, but Draco's voice interrupted him.

"I know who my father is," he said with quiet control. "And in spite of the animosity you feel towards him, I am Harry's friend."

Claire rolled her eyes, her tone as sharp as the edge of a kitchen knife. "Oh, and you know the saying, I believe? Keep your friends close...keep your enemies closer?"

Remus, who now stood between Claire and Draco, closed his eyes with a soft groan. Harry had the distinct impression that his former professor was very familiar with this side of his godmother.

"You are entitled to believe whatever you want," Draco said calmly and coolly, a smirk on his lips suggesting he didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by Claire’s sudden attack. “I can’t exactly blame you. Furthermore, you aren’t the only one in this house who despises my father. My suggestion would be for you to step in line. Take a number, if you will.”

“Draco!” Harry said, a warning edge to his voice. He had stepped between Draco and Remus to build a stronger barrier in case things got out of control.

Claire had changed her tone though, one much more condescending than before. “You can’t fool your way into Harry’s life. And once a Malfoy...always a Malfoy.”

“Claire — that’s enough,” Remus interrupted her. “You don’t know the whole story.”

"Claire," Harry cut in, desperate for her to understand. "The name 'Malfoy' is just a name! It's not who he is!"

"You of all people should know that, Claire," said a new voice. All four people in the kitchen turned towards the doorway. Sirius, Hermione and Ginny had returned, their arms full of groceries.

The girls entered the kitchen, carefully dropping the groceries onto the counter. Sirius did the same without another glance at the four grouped together, looking as though they were all ready to duel each other — and not necessarily with wands.

"Ginny," said Sirius in a light tone, turning to the red-head. "Would you take Draco upstairs, please?"

Ginny glanced at Claire, curiosity filling her brown orbs. She reluctantly agreed and led Draco upstairs to the spare bedroom without another word.

Hermione walked over to Harry’s side.

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly, tactfully avoiding the urge to stare at the pretty stranger. Harry could tell, though, that she had already deciphered who she was. “Is that--?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied shortly as Hermione fell into an amazed silence next to him.

And now Harry couldn’t tell who the real Claire was. Was she the friendly, giggling woman he had met at the door? Or was she the quick-tempered, vociferous woman who had just verbally attacked Draco?

Harry watched as Sirius grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it halfway with coffee and placed it on the table, where he promptly filled the rest of the cup with cream and countless scoops of sugar. He then crossed the room, gently took Claire by the elbow and sat her down in front of the coffee mug.

"You still take it the same? Good. Drink," he commanded gently.

Claire narrowed her eyes up at him in a threatening manner. "Stop treating me like a child, Sirius."

"I will when you stop acting like one," Sirius quipped in a low voice, his eyes meeting hers briefly and warningly.

He stood up to his full height and made his way back to the counter. And when he turned back to Claire, he noticed she still hadn’t touched her coffee.

"That coffee isn't going to drink itself," he told her in a calm voice. Claire glared at him through her wet hair.

"Oh, right," Sirius suddenly realized. He withdrew his wand and made his way over to her again, where he swiftly touched his wand to her head and whispered a word or two. Claire jerked her head slightly as though she had just been electrocuted. Her wet hair instantly dried, her clothes no longer clung to her skin. Even her tear-streaked face became clear and dry. "Better?"

Harry realized there was the merest trace of a smile on his godfather’s face. He seemed to be enjoying himself. And it appeared to Harry that Claire knew this as well, and was greatly annoyed by it. He found it strange to be watching them interact together. After nearly 17 years, he thought they’d each be on opposite ends of the house, desperate to avoid each other.

But here they were, acting as though this was nothing more than a simple disagreement of sorts, as though they hadn’t been on separate ends of the world for nearly two decades. Neither of them seemed to be truly angry with each other, and even the bitterness which Draco had inspired in Claire seemed to have completely evaporated with Sirius’s arrival.

But the thing that Harry found most bewildering was the fact that no one — not Remus, not Sirius, not even Harry himself — had bothered to ask Claire why she had shown up at the house. If no one had been expecting her arrival (as it appeared to be), then what had made her decide to come back?

But then another thought occurred to Harry — a fairly reasonable explanation for that one prodding question. The ‘why’ didn’t matter to anyone. The ‘why’ was as unimportant to them as Draco being a Malfoy was. The fact remained that Claire was here. And the truth was she simply belonged here with them. Could Claire really be that missing piece of the puzzle that figuratively (and literally) completed the picture?

Right now, though, Claire appeared to be fighting the urge to look grateful for Sirius’s help. Against her will, her face softened and she whispered, "Thank you," before taking a small sip of her coffee.

"Now that that's settled," Sirius said more loudly, turning back to everyone in the kitchen. "Now for the introductions. Hermione -- this is Claire White. Claire, I'd like you to meet Hermione Granger. Harry's girlfriend," he added unnecessarily.

Claire looked up at Hermione, who slowly approached her. Rain still dripped from her hair and onto the floor.

"It's really nice to meet you," Hermione said.

Claire flashed Hermione a warm smile, extending her hand and shaking Hermione's.

"I have heard so much about you," said Claire. "Please, sit down with me."

While Hermione obliged, Harry looked around to find that Sirius had vanished from the room. He looked at Remus, who rolled his eyes in exasperation. Claire cast her eyes around the room and caught the looks Remus and Harry were exchanging. She heaved a great sigh.

"He hasn't changed a bit."

"He's in shock," said Remus. "You can't blame him, C.J."

"You're right. I can't. And I don't," Claire added softly, looking down into her mug.

Harry shot Remus and Claire a very dumbfounded look, at which point Remus shrugged his shoulders. "Sirius has this fixation about not fighting with Claire."

"Really?" said Harry, surprised.

"Yes..." Claire agreed. "It's really enough to drive me crazy. Instead of fighting with me, he'll leave the room -- hide out until he's cooled down."

"That was Sirius being angry?" said Harry, puzzled. He had seen Sirius angry before. But the Sirius who had entered the kitchen to find his ex-fiancée there seemed very cool and calm.

"That was him being angry with me," said Claire, chagrined.

"What did you do wrong?" Harry asked. "It's perfectly understandable that you'd jump down Draco's throat!"

"There's more to it than that..." Claire said, twirling a piece of dark hair around her finger absent-mindedly. "I was in the wrong." She gave a bitter laugh. "Do you see what I mean? Sirius doesn't need to shout or yell at me. He can make me see what I've done wrong without even sparing me another glance."

"Claire has a habit of jumping to conclusions. It's rare," Remus added as he sat down at the table, diagonal from Hermione, "And when it happens, you do not want to be in the line of fire."

"Bite me, Remus," Claire muttered without preamble.

"Don't tempt me, Claire," Remus replied without looking at her, earning soft laughs from Hermione and Claire in response.

"I'll go talk to Sirius," Harry suggested. "Talk some sense into him."

"There's no point," Claire said with another sigh, all traces of humor fading from her face. “He’ll come down when he’s ready.” And it shocked Harry to hear her say that with such confidence.

Claire’s eyes landed on Hermione's right hand, third finger. All thoughts of Sirius seemed to vanish from her mind. The silver and gold ring shimmered under the light of the kitchen chandelier. "Is that what I think it is? Is that -- the Friendship Ring?”

Hermione glanced down at her ring fondly. "It is," Hermione said, looking back at Claire. "Do you know anything about this ring?"

The sad expression on Claire's face suddenly vanished, to be replaced by a soft glow, her smile widening. "Know about it? I wrote a paper on it in my last year at Hogwarts. Do you remember the assignment, R.J? History of Magic. We did a unit on myths and legends and I chose to write about the Friendship Ring. How did you get your hands on it?" Her voice was not condescending at all, but filled with wonder and awe.

"Harry gave it to me two Christmas’s ago," Hermione said, glancing at Harry as she spoke.

"And -- is the myth true?" Claire asked eagerly.

"Yes," said Harry. "We met the Ring-Spirit last Spring. Sirius and Remus were there as well."

"My...God..." Claire whispered slowly. "May I?" Hermione removed the ring and carefully dropped it into Claire's hand. "It's more beautiful than I ever imagined," she sighed, running her finger across the ancient symbols of truth, loyalty and love.

"What did you learn about the ring when you did that assignment?" Hermione asked, as eager to hear all she knew about the ring as Claire was to hear Hermione’s version.

Harry took this opportunity to go find Sirius, believing Hermione to be in good hands. He left the room without another word and made his way upstairs, feeling that Sirius would be probably be in the attic. He then pulled open the ceiling door and climbed the attic stairs that had promptly slid out.

Two lamps were lit at the far end, where he discovered Sirius sitting at the piano, leaning over the keys, his index finger hitting the same key over and over again.

"What are you doing, Sirius?" Harry said, sitting next to his godfather on the bench as the one note droned on and on.

"Playing the piano," Sirius said quietly, without looking up.

"You can play?" Harry asked skeptically.

Sirius brought both hands to the black and white keys and pressed down. A series of horrible notes blasted irritatingly throughout the attic. Sirius lifted his shoulders and then dropped them.

"Nope."

"You need to go back downstairs," Harry said to Sirius without warning. "You're not exactly being...courteous...to Claire by hiding."

"Who said I’m hiding?" Sirius muttered, not looking at Harry. A moment of silence stretched between them. Harry didn’t want to pressure his godfather. Yet at the very same time, he felt very frustrated and couldn’t exactly explain why.

"So you met the wonderful, multiple-personality Claire White, huh?" Sirius eventually said, finally looking side-long at Harry.

"Honey one second, fire the next?" Harry clarified with a smirk.

Sirius chuckled. "That's her. Like a volcano. You never could tell when she'd erupt. She has the power to make you feel like you're the only person in the room -- like you're on top of the world. And she has the power to strip that feeling away. Merlin,” he sighed reminiscently. “I missed that about her."

"Then why aren't you down there?" Harry prodded. "She came to see you."

"She came to see you," Sirius corrected him calmly. "Claire and I are a thing of the past. We tried and we failed. It’s a fact of life we both have spent many years getting used to."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Harry said, feeling angry now. "You 'tried' and 'failed.' You didn't fail. You were pulled apart by circumstances way beyond your control!"

"Clearly someone didn't want us together," Sirius said with a patience that was beginning to annoy Harry. "At one point, I remember thinking that I couldn't possibly live without her. She was it for me -- my reason for being alive. When I met her for the first time, I simply knew. I knew we belonged together."

Harry didn't know what to say. He personally knew what it felt like to have that one person in his life he couldn't live without. Therefore a part of him understood just how Sirius had once felt. But Harry sensed another, deeper reason for his godfather’s desire to remain hidden and invisible in the attic. But it was difficult to be sure.

"Listen, Sirius," Harry began, trying to appeal to the older wizard in a logical way. "No one expects you to marry her. You're allowed to be her friend, right?"

Sirius didn't say anything to this.

"She doesn't hate Draco," Sirius explained, changing the subject abruptly as Harry tried to ignore the sudden sharp pang of irritation which stabbed him in that instant. "She really despises his parents. Lucius and Narcissa were two years ahead of us when we all attended Hogwarts. They tormented Claire because she was Muggle-born. And Narcissa loathed the very ground she walked on. Both Claire and Lily. The two of them together -- " Sirius paused in remembrance. "They made the darkest and coldest dungeons in Hogwarts glow with warmth."

“Did my mum hate them just as much?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“She hated them,” Sirius answered matter-of-factly. “But for different reasons. You see — Lily was a very strong individual. And when Narcissa tried to make life difficult for her...well...it never worked out as planned. Narcissa would then make Claire her target. And Claire was the shy type, who typically spent most of her time trying to stay and remain invisible to others around her. She was timid and naturally had no idea how to defend herself when it came to Narcissa.

“Lily’s vendetta against them stemmed from the fact that they made Claire’s life miserable,” Sirius continued. “It wasn’t until Narcissa and Lucius finally graduated that Claire finally came out of her shell.”

"Do you think she'll get over the fact that Draco is a Malfoy?" Harry wondered, after a thoughtful pause.

"Yes," Sirius said. "She has this very strong theory that blood holds no importance whatsoever when it comes to family. Take a look at me and my family. She never would have been with me if she didn't believe that there was something good in me worth caring about. And even she comes from a very hard background. Her mother and father were as strict and unfeeling as your Aunt and Uncle. She swore she would never be like them.

“But luckily for you, that’s a whole other story,” Sirius added to Harry with a small smile. “And maybe someday Claire will tell you all about it.”

When Harry returned to the kitchen, he found that Ginny and Draco were sitting at the kitchen table with Hermione and Remus. Harry might have been surprised to see Claire working in such evident harmony with Draco had it not been for his piano bench chat with Sirius. As Sirius had predicted, Claire had obviously made a peace overture of sorts to Draco by including him in what was by all appearances a “family” project of some sort. And though Draco appeared to be in something less than a state of ease (accepting, perhaps, more to please Ginny than for any other reason), Harry could sense that he was pleased nonetheless to have been asked.

Claire stood at the counter mixing something that resembled dough in a large plastic bowl. Hermione, Remus and Draco were buried in their task of peeling potatoes as Ginny sat next to Draco, her brows furrowed as she concentrated on the large block of cheddar cheese she was grating.

Claire looked over her shoulder at Harry as he entered, and she grinned knowingly. "Thanks for the effort, Harry. But eventually Sirius will come down. Whether he wants to or not."

"How do you know that?" Draco and Harry asked together.

"The man has to eat sometime, right?" Claire replied, turning back to her plastic bowl.

"What are you making?" asked Harry curiously, as he sat across from Hermione. She promptly handed him a potato and knife, silently instructing him to help them peel the potatoes. He grinned at her and obliged.

"Pirogies," Claire replied brightly. "It's a non-meat recipe for a non-meat holiday, and this has always been a tradition for me. Don't worry," she added, confusing Harry’s curious look for wariness. "You'll love them."

"And if Sirius ever had a weakness," said Remus, running his knife across a potato mindlessly, "it was Claire's irresistible cooking."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry jokingly.

Claire laughed. "There were times when I wondered if my cooking was the only reason he stayed with me."

"It wasn't."

The voice came from the kitchen doorway, where Sirius leaned casually against the frame, his light eyes solely on Claire. She turned to look at him and their eyes met briefly. A very pregnant pause followed as they stared at each other, broken only by Claire's voice as she turned to Harry and said in a very Hermione-like voice, "I told you so."

Sirius glanced around the kitchen, his eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

“You’re not!”

“I am,” Claire responded with a grin.

”You’re really making pirogies?!”

Claire laughed softly at Sirius’s enthusiasm as she added water to her mixture. “Harry’s never had them before, according to Hermione. So I’m teaching her the ways.”

“Teaching her your ways,” Sirius corrected her, smirking knowingly. “You know...I could have all of this done within two minutes. Potatoes, cheese and the dough,” Sirius offered. “Just a little flick of my wand...”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you...” Remus said under his breath as he continued to run his knife across the potato he was working on.

“Hermione, dear?” Claire said sweetly, turning to the brunette. “Would you be kind enough to hand Sirius a knife?”

“Grab a chair, Sirius,” Hermione suggested, fishing for a knife on the table. Sirius did as told and took the knife from her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked Claire as Remus laughed through his nose.

“Hermione?” Claire barely turned her head, her tone suggesting the merest trace of an order.

Hermione swiftly pulled out a small bag from beneath her chair and pushed it across the table to Sirius. Three large onions fell out.

Sirius’s face fell. “Oh.”

“That’s for getting cute with me,” Claire said, flashing him one of her sweet smiles.

“Onions,” Sirius whispered bitterly. “I hate onions.” He grinned, though, as he began to peel away the outer layers of the onions.

“You’d think you’d know better...” Remus said quietly to Sirius as he continued to peel his potatoes.

“I’ve got it covered, old friend,” Sirius mumbled, fishing for his wand. He withdrew it, a proud smile on his face as he aimed it at one of the onions.

“Ahem!”

Sirius looked up to find Claire smirking self-righteously at him, a wand pointed straight at his chest.

His face fell again, before realization dawned on him. “Hey — you’re not supposed to have a wand!”

“She doesn’t,” Remus replied. “She’s confiscated mine. Apparently the woman has trust issues.”

“Honestly...boys...” Claire reprimanded gently as Sirius reluctantly handed over his wand. Harry was surprised to find him so accommodating. “You make it sound like being a Muggle is the worst possible thing in the world — the way you two act.”

“She’s got a nice point, though,” Hermione added thoughtfully as Claire placed both wands onto the counter next to the bag of flour. “If Muggle-Borns can learn magic, then I’m sure pure-bloods can learn the Muggle ways. Am I right, Draco?”

Everyone laughed as they watched the blond wizard struggling with his potato and knife. He looked up, slightly red in the face from embarrassment.

“I’ll have to disagree with you on that one, Hermione,” he replied shortly before returning to his potato.

“Well, at least he’s trying,” Ginny said in her boyfriend’s defense. Laughter rang around the kitchen table and Claire was mildly surprised to see Draco laughing as hard as anyone.

“Do you know,” Claire said, her eyes not leaving her pirogie mixture, “in all my years at Hogwarts, I don’t think I ever heard Lucius Malfoy laugh. I mean real, honest laughter. Maybe the apple does fall far from the tree.” Claire’s eyes flickered in Sirius’s direction as she added with a smirk: “Every now and then.”

Another chorus of laughter followed as everyone – Draco included – renewed their culinary efforts. Claire looked over her shoulder and caught Sirius’s eye again. They smiled at each other over their respective tasks, as if this very scenario had triggered many happy memories between the two.

And Harry couldn’t help but feel that, in spite of the impending darkness which still loomed ominously over their heads, this weekend would provide them all with enough happy memories to last them a lifetime.

The rain that had drenched the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole continued well into the night. Harry was finding it difficult to sleep with everything that had happened that day: Claire White being the very unexpected surprise of the century. And because of this, his mind was too full to sleep.

Ginny and Hermione were sharing Harry's room, while Claire took the spare bedroom. Harry remembered the shocked look on her face when Sirius had promptly put his foot down and insisted that she stay. Harry assumed that that was Sirius's way of showing her that he wanted her there. And the rest of the evening was filled with plenty of laughter as Sirius, Remus and Claire reminisced about old times by telling the younger witches and wizards stories of their past.

Remus was sleeping on Harry's one side while Draco slept peacefully on his other side. Was he, Harry, the only one who couldn't sleep? He lifted himself from his mattress and fumbled for his glasses. Once he had them on, he made his way to the kitchen in the dark, carefully trying not bump into anything so as not to wake up Draco or Remus.

"Sleeping draught...I know we have it here somewhere," Harry murmured. He opened the kitchen pantry and turned the knob on the overhead lamp, blinding himself for a moment or two. Boxes and containers of food came into view. The pantry was very deep, and could easily fit two people. "Where is that sleeping draught? I know I saw it here," he whispered, stepping into the pantry and pulling the door closed behind him.

He continued searching until he realized he was no longer the only one in the kitchen. He had kept the pantry door open just a crack, fearing he would lock himself in if he closed it all the way, and now he could see Sirius as he stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the kitchen window. The older wizard seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his godson was in the pantry. Harry was about to announce his presence when another figure appeared within his view. Claire had tied her long, dark hair into a low braid and wore a pair of pink, flannel pajamas.

Suddenly realizing that he might be a witness to something he didn’t want to see, Harry wished he had stayed in bed.

Sirius turned to face Claire, and it was difficult for Harry to decipher the expression on his godfather’s face from his viewpoint. Sirius and Claire were no more than a foot a part as they continued to stare at each other.

Do something, Harry mentally urged. He wanted to get out of the pantry, with or without his sleeping draught.

Without saying a word -- as though words were not necessary -- Claire went into Sirius's outstretched arms and they clung to each other.

"I missed you so much," Sirius whispered into her hair as they continued to hold onto each other.

Claire pulled back slightly, and Harry could see tears streaming down her face. "It's so difficult...There's so much I want to say," she said softly.

"We have all the time in the world," he told her, his thumb wiping away the tears which coursed down her cheeks.

"I shouldn't even be here!" Claire whispered desperately. "I don't know what possessed me...but it's not fair to you -- to any of you."

"It's OK!" Sirius insisted, smiling warmly at her.

But Claire didn't seem to want to hear it. She kept shaking her head, trying to convince herself of something. "My mind...is having trouble accepting the fact that you're here," she confessed. "That I'm here. That I can..." To convey her thought, she raised her hand to touch the side of his face and she automatically pulled back, fear lighting up her sapphire eyes.

"Don't be afraid to touch me," Sirius said, staring into her eyes intently, his hands now gripping her upper-arms. “Not now...after so long.”

"I saw you today..." she said. "I saw that look in your eye you successfully managed to hide from everyone else. You can't hide it from me, Sirius."

"Claire -- don't -- “

"You need to talk to me," she persisted. "You need to. Because I need to know where I stand."

"I already told you -- I'm glad you're here. I want you here."

"Yes...But you're holding back," she told him. "You're holding back because you're afraid." She paused as Sirius lowered his face, as though ashamed. "I told you that you can't hide from me, Sirius."

Sirius raised his head so his eyes were looking straight into hers. "How?" he asked weakly.

Claire smiled serenely at him, her eyes shining. "Do you really believe 17 years of being apart from each other has changed the fact that I know your heart?" she asked rhetorically. "Have you forgotten that you can read mine just as easily?"

Sirius gave a dry laugh. "What do you want me to say? Having you here has only made me realize that I have everything I could ever possibly want under this roof. And I can't stand the idea of losing it -- even though I know I'm not entitled to it.”

Claire looked up into his face with sympathy in her eyes. But she didn’t interrupt him.

"I don't deserve all this happiness, Claire. Because if I start thinking for one second that I'm happy -- then that indicates I'm glad I'm in James and Lily's place. Which implies that I'm glad they're dead."

Harry's mouth fell open in shock. Was this how Sirius really felt? Had he felt this way all along?

"Sirius, has anyone ever told you that you think too much?” Claire asked him gently. "If you're not allowed to be happy, then you've taken away Harry's right to be. And when I saw Harry today, he looked genuinely happy. I know I haven't been a part of his life. I have myself to blame for that -- and no one else. But I know this much: He has you to thank. You've given him more than I think he even realizes."

"Claire --"

"If it was left up to me to choose one man who deserved all the happiness and goodness this world has to offer, I would pick you, Sirius," Claire told him. Her hand caressed the side of his face without hesitation this time as she continued to look at him lovingly. "You're the best man I've ever known."

Sirius brought her into his arms again, and this time Harry could see silent tears traveling down his face. They held onto each other as though fearing if one let go, the other would disappear. Harry felt a sudden pang in his chest...one of pity. He couldn't bear it if he and Hermione were separated for nearly two decades. He suddenly decided how relieved he was that Claire had returned. Not for himself. For Sirius.

Things had to be different now. Things would be different.

"Not to ruin a picture-perfect moment, and not to sound ungrateful — “ Claire said, breaking the comfortable silence. “But why have you allowed me to stay?”

When Sirius didn’t say anything, Claire continued speaking in an increasingly heated way.

“Why don't you hate me for what I've done?" she whispered as Sirius took her hand in his, lightly brushing his lips across her knuckles.

"You haven't done anything, Claire," Sirius told her in bewilderment.

"I left!" Claire reminded him in a hiss. "I left you, Harry, R.J --"

"Trust me, I have my share of guilt in what happened all those years ago," Sirius said to her. He gave a slow swallow, his eyes shadowing with memories of the past. "The last person in the world I would ever blame is you. Because if it were me in your shoes, I would have done the same. Knowing that you were powerless to stop Dumbledore from giving Harry to his miserable relatives. Unable to do anything but watch me rot in prison --"

"You don't blame yourself!" Claire gasped in realization.

"Of course I do. Who else is there to blame?"

"How about those responsible? That rat you called a friend -- and Voldemort!" Claire reminded him.

"I was nothing more than a fool, honey," Sirius replied quietly. "My place was not chasing after Pettigrew. It was with you. I should have listened to you. You told me it was pointless --"

"I admit, you were foolish by not thinking with your head," said Claire, her eyes shimmering with tears. "But you were thinking with your heart. You loved James, Lily and Harry. And when you went after -- him -- I knew I had never been so proud of you. I knew...as upset as I was...that I couldn't possibly love you more than I did at that moment."

His hand touched the side of her face, curiously, tentatively. “I guess we’ll always have our share of the guilt. Mine comes from my recklessness — “

“And mine comes from my cowardice,” Claire finished, pushing down the lump in her throat as she swallowed.

“I’ve never blamed you, Claire,” Sirius insisted, the intensity of his gaze leaving Claire breathless and dazed.

“And I never blamed you,” Claire whispered as Sirius’s fingers continued to slowly graze her jaw line.

He let his fingers fall to her throat, where he then pulled out a fine gold chain that hung around her neck. A small, gold heart-shaped pendant dangled from the chain, alongside a small gold band with a tiny pink jewel perched on top of it.

"You still--"

"I never took it off," Claire said immediately, as though she needed him to know this fact. "Do you remember what you said when you gave this to me?" She fingered the heart-shaped pendant.

Sirius smiled reminiscently, his fingers gently touching the gold heart. "I said...that it was my heart... filled with my love for you."

"And whenever you couldn’t be with me...or whenever I felt alone," she continued, another tear coursing down her cheek, "All I had to do was wrap my fist around it and squeeze tightly. And your love would do the rest." She looked into his eyes, smiling through her tears. "There hasn't been a day that has gone by that I've never held your heart in my hand, love. Never."

Their gazes locked, Sirius slowly lowered his face to hers. "I want to kiss you so much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Claire raised her face to his, their eyes clashing with a burning desire. "I'm not stopping you."

Sirius didn’t hesitate as he lowered his lips to hers softly and timidly. She opened her mouth beneath his lips and Sirius deepened the kiss, his hands on the swell of her hips as he pulled her quivering form closer to his body. The very air around them crackled with passion, need and urgency.

They pulled apart from each other only when their breath finally ran out. Claire rested her forehead on Sirius's chest, her eyes closed as she fought for air. Sirius's arms encircled her as he rested his chin on her head, his eyes closed as well.

"I need you, Claire," he whispered a moment later, no longer interested in keeping his longing for her a secret.

Claire didn't say anything at first. She allowed a few moments for the meaning of his words to sink in before she lifted her forehead from his chest and looked into his eyes. To Harry's bewilderment, she turned away from him, her eyes falling to the floor.

"I can't," she whispered back.

Sirius stepped behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "You can't? Or you won't?" His lips brushed the back of her neck as he spoke and she shivered beneath his touch.

"Is there a difference?" she wondered.

"If you won't, that implies that you need and want me just as much, but you won't allow yourself. If you can’t...then there may be something you’re not telling me," Sirius explained, his hands now resting on her hips.

Claire closed her eyes again as Sirius placed gentle kisses down the back of her neck. Her eyes snapped open suddenly.

"Stop doing that!" She spun around to face him. "You're doing that on purpose, Black."

"I'm not doing anything," Sirius retorted, an innocent grin lighting up his face.

Claire glared at him suspiciously. "I told you I can't," she continued. "Because there's no point."

"No point?" Sirius echoed incredulously. "Dammit, Claire -- you really haven't changed, have you?"

"And listen to you!" Claire shot back. "I've been here for no longer than 12 hours and you're already trying to get me into bed?"

Sirius flinched as though Claire had just slapped him. "You know that's not it, Claire," he said quietly.

They didn't say anything for a moment. Claire chewed on her bottom lip, looking guilty and apologetic while Sirius turned back to the window, effectively turning his back on her.

"I know...Sirius," Claire finally said. "I didn't mean what I said."

"I know," Sirius said, his hands folded across his chest. He didn't bother to look at her as Claire continued to speak.

"I'm...scared," she confessed.

This got Sirius's attention. He turned around to face her, confusion, pain and frustration shining through the icy blue of his eyes.

"Scared of me?" he shot at her.

Claire looked appalled at the idea. "Of course not!" she insisted.

"Then what?" he demanded heatedly. "What are you so scared of?"

Claire fumbled with the ring and heart-shaped pendant looped around her chain as she thought carefully about her answer.

"It's been so long, Sirius," she whispered. "It terrifies me to think...you could still..."

"Want you?" he supplied.

Claire didn't say anything. She nodded without meeting his eyes.

They didn't say anything for a while. They simply stood there, both consumed by thoughts and words they wanted to say to each other. Both too hesitant and shy to voice them.

"I don't want to mislead you, Sirius," Claire finally said, still not looking at him. "I have plans to return back to Canada." When Sirius didn't say anything, she added, "I'm not staying...Sirius."

"What?" Sirius said, his voice quiet and full of pain.

Claire didn't repeat herself. She stared down at the floor.

"You came all this way for one weekend to see Harry, is that it? And then you plan to leave? Just like that? Walk in, walk out?" Sirius wondered disbelievingly.

"How could you expect me to stay?" Claire asked as she finally looked at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand. "My home is in Canada...I have a job there..."

"A husband?" Sirius wondered, his eyes flashing with cruelty.

Claire looked at him sharply, her eyes filled with fire. She looked like she was ready to commit murder as she thrust her left hand up to his face. "Does it look like I'm wearing a ring, you fool?"

Sirius had the decency to look ashamed.

"Then why can't you stay?" he pleaded with her. "You have nothing tying you to Canada -- the Muggle life -- which, by the way, you always claimed you hated."

"It was my punishment to myself," Claire said, her voice suddenly quiet and sad, without the anger that had once shown clear in her words.

"It's time to let go of that guilt, Claire," Sirius begged as he took her hand in his. "Let it go...and stay here. With me."

Claire was clearly struggling with the desire to do exactly as Sirius wanted. Harry could see it in her face.

"I can't," she finally said, though there was less conviction in her voice now. Sirius seemed to sense that her strength was wavering.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

The question seemed to confuse Claire. "I'm here to see Harry...and R.J -- and you, of course."

"No, Claire," Sirius said, his voice strong and clear. "Why are you here? With me. Right now?"

The clarification of the question definitely had the effect Sirius wanted. Claire gawked at him, at a loss for words.

"You don't want to leave," Sirius told her. "It's just like you said: I know your heart. You can't hide from me."

Claire looked furious with herself. She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed at the floor. She clearly hadn’t expected Sirius to use her words against her.

"Look at me, Claire," Sirius instructed, lifting her chin upwards so she was left with no choice but to oblige. "Don't leave," he insisted. "Stay here. Stay for me -- for us. I know it's complicated for you. It's been too long, and I don't expect anything from you. We can be friends. That's how we started out, right?"

He smiled at her reassuringly.

"Sirius --"

"I just don't want you to leave," Sirius added desperately. "I'll do anything.”

Claire giggled in a way that suggested he had already won her over. "Anything, eh? Would you name a star after me?"

"In a heartbeat.”

"Would you climb the highest mountain for me?"

"You know I would," Sirius told her as she allowed him to pull her closer to him.

Harry had the unmistakable impression that this was a private game between them, one they had played many, many times.

"And would you father my children?" Claire asked him coyly, peering up at him with a teasing smile on her face.

"With pleasure," Sirius growled into her ear.

"And would you become Severus Snape's best friend for me?" she asked.

Sirius pulled back, his face screwed up in disgust as Claire burst into laughter, hugging him close.

"You don't have to answer that," she said, her laughter dissolving into quiet giggles.

Sirius laughed. "So...is that a yes?" he asked her.

She looked up at him with a frown on her pretty face. "Is what a yes?"

"Will you stay?"

Claire didn't answer at first. She looked down at their interlocked fingers, her eyes shining, her creamy skin flushed with happiness.

"Take me upstairs, Sirius," she whispered just as he said, "You don't have to give me an answer straight away."

They both looked at each other, Sirius frowning in confusion, Claire giggling more than ever.

"What?" Sirius asked her in disbelief.

Claire squeezed his hand and without letting go, she took a few steps toward the kitchen doorway, which would lead them to the stairs. Sirius remained planted firmly where he was standing as he gawked at Claire. She turned back to him.

"I said...take me upstairs, Sirius," she repeated, grinning.

Without another word, they left the kitchen together. Harry waited until he was sure they were upstairs before leaving the pantry. He made his way back to the living room, his mind reeling from everything he had heard and seen. A part of him knew he had just violated his godparents' privacy. He knew that had been wrong. But another, quieter part of him was glad that he had witnessed the exchange between Claire and Sirius.

Claire was staying. Harry suddenly felt lighter than air. As he lay down back in his make-shift bed, he realized just how content he really felt. He also realized he didn't need his sleeping draught anymore. He felt exhausted.

But just before he fell asleep, one thought permeated his brain: He sincerely hoped Sirius had placed a Soundproofing Charm around his room. For Hermione's and Ginny's sake, at least.


To Be Continued...