Harry Potter and the Covenant of the Triangle

"Shut it, Ron." Hermione circled Harry's chair and sat on the couch between he and Ron, giving the latter a swat on the cheek.

Harry saw McGonnagol give him a plainly undisguised glance and gave her a very slight nod. He knew the look, and the reason.

"As I was saying," she began again, "You will move immediately to the Astronomy Tower, room four after your last class where you will meet Professor Lupin. You will need no books or parchment, you need only to bring your wand…"

McGonnagol stood briskly, her wand still out, and scanned the area around her as if Ron and Harry hadn't already, quickly turning her attention once again back to the three.

The dark wizard prison, Azkaban, was overrun yet again last night, though there seems to be no evidence of a break in. A total of ten prisoners have reportedly escaped from their cells, bringing to mind the events of two years prior, when the same number escaped. The escapees have all been positively identified as Death Eaters.

Among those sprung from their cells last evening was one Bellatrix Lestrange, along with many of the others who broke out, and were then recaptured following the previous break out of two years prior. This brings the number of suspected Death Eaters on the loose up to around fifteen.

Upon reaching the scene, Aurors assigned to the case first noticed a scattering of the bodies of around twenty dementors; the creatures who's job it has been to secure the prison from its very beginning. The prison normally houses around fifty to seventy dementors at a time, but the rest have yet to be found. This, along with the fact that there is no evidence indicating an assault from outside forces, has led wizard investigators to believe that the break out was a result of defection from the inside.

Says one Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and expert hitwizard from the Ministry of Magic: "We've no other explanation for why over half of the dementors are missing, and the remaining twenty are dead. We've reached the conclusion that some of the dementors tried to stop the breakout and inevitably lost their lives due to being outnumbered.

It's a shame really, for two reasons. Number one, the ministry will have to sacrifice some of its already overworked staff to take over guarding the prison. And worse, number two, we can only come to one conclusion as to why the dementors would decide on desertion of their posts. They've finally, truly chosen sides."

This revelation, of course, again brings to mind the events of two years prior, when it appeared that some of the dementors had already renounced the Ministry and helped to spring the previously freed ten death eaters. Many of the dementors returned to work only days later, claiming that they had been out on the search for the missing inmates. Of course, now, one must wonder if those dementors returned to their jobs only to free the remaining Death Eaters when the time became convenient.

After Hermione had finished reading the article aloud to the three, along with Neville, surrounding her, a heavy silence fell over them. The lighthearted feeling they had had only moments before had now been washed away and they were left with a sick feeling of dread.

Neville, in particular had suddenly become pale and drawn. As soon as Hermione had finished the article, he'd mumbled something inarticulate and fled the Great Hall. Ron said that he'd become immediately mental at the mention of Lestrange's name.

Ron was also upset by the news but for different reasons. He and Lavender had just been able to warm up to each other again since the period that she had chosen to stay away from him out of fear after the dark mark incident in Diagon Alley. Now, he was afraid that the bad news they'd all just heard might make her fearful once again to be around the three teens that Voldemort seemed to target the most. Rather, it was Harry the dark lord targeted, but neither Ron nor Hermione would ever leave his side, so what one went through, they all did. He knew if it came down to choosing between his friendships with Harry and Hermione or his relationship with Lavender that he would choose the former, but he hoped it never came to that.

He took a tentative look at Lavender's face, and though she was white and filled with fear, she scooted closer to him and looped her arm in his as if he might protect her. Ron allowed himself to relax a bit. That had to be a good sign…

As soon as the article had finished being read, Harry and Hermione seemed to have the same thoughts about it. Their gaze inevitably wandered up front towards the professors table, and both saw Dumbledore and McGonnagol, their heads close together with Snape's, in deep discussion over what appeared to be a copy of the newspaper. The rest of the teachers all seemed to be involved in discussions of their own as well.

The rest of the Great Hall soon began to reverberate with hushed and murmured discussions that sounded nervous and altogether fearful. Word traveled fast at Hogwarts.

Neither Harry nor Hermione needed three guesses to figure out what they were talking about.

Across the hall, Draco Malfoy had just finished reading the headlined news as well. Some of the Slytherin table was cackling to each other about the article. Still others had even gone so far as to commend the Dementors for finally 'having the scrotes to step up and make the choice.'

"It's about time they did something," said Pansy Parkinson in her harsh, nasally voice as she let porridge fall thickly from her spoon back into her bowl. "Gods, this is disgusting. Those house elves are useless mongs! Anyhow, I knew the dementors would eventually turn against the Ministry. Bound to happen what with it being run by a bunch of pig-ignorant lummoxes…Fudge included."

"Exactly," said a strongly built witch sitting next to Pansy. "My father works in Magical Wildlife Services. He says Fudge's turned into a right old sot since You-Know-Who decided to show himself again two years ago. The dark lord shouldn't have much trouble taking over once Dumbledore's out of the way. And Pothead of course."

"Right you are," said Millicent Bullstrode, her bulldog like face mashed even further into a sneer. "The dark lord's only months away from making his move, I'd say. As for me, I'll be on the side of the most powerful. We all know who that's going to be."

Goyle snickered. " 'Course we do. 'Specially with Mr. Malfoy bein' on his team. What with ickle Potter being the only thing standing in You-Know-Who's way, the victory's already in his ruddy pocket. The runt."

"Goyle, compared with you everyone's a runt." At the mention of his father Draco had stiffened with anger, and he spoke before he thought about how the comment might make him look.

Goyle's small piggy eyes fixed on Draco who sat up straight, eyeing him steadily. Goyle scowled, managing to look stupid and confused all at the same time. "What's the matter with you, then!? You takin' up for Potty Wee Potter now!?"

"No you lard-arsed bloater," bellowed Draco with so much force that blood rushed to his face. "There'll never be any love lost between Scarhead and me. You just need to keep your bloody hole shut about things you don't half understand…all of you."

The Slytherin sitting near them all looked up from their breakfasts, some with shock, and others in anger. Crabbe's jaw actually dropped open, and a half-chewed piece of sausage tumbled out onto the table.

"And who are you to tell us what we do and don't understand, Malfoy…" said Theodore Nott, a thin, sallow faced boy two seats over from him.

"Only the son of Voldemort's frickin' right hand man." Snarled Draco with a fierce glint in his eyes. He looked around at the group that had suddenly hissed in fear at the mention of the dark lord's name with a derisive gaze of anger. He balled his fists until the knuckles turned white and ground them furiously into the table. "I guess you all think it's time to celebrate now, right!? I mean half of our parents here are loyal to him, aren't they!? I'll bet you're all just bloody pissing your pants to join them!"

"Keep your voice down Draco!" yelled Nott furiously as he slammed a fist down on the table. "You want to get them all caught!?"

Malfoy wildly shifted his way. "I suppose you lot think that when he takes over everything's going to be one happy shit-fest, aye? That you'll all be princes and princesses and your parents kings of the world?"

"Well he is the most powerful, isn't he!?" hissed Pansy to Draco. "If we ally with him, then we're sure to get a piece of the action, as well as the victory. It makes sense, doesn't it?!"

Draco half rose from his seat and made a move as if to crawl over the table and beat the hell out of the others until his good sense re-exerted itself.

"I'll tell you what makes sense you great shit-load of idiots," seethed Malfoy shaking with anger as much as with a sense of dread. "The fact is that when Voldemort gets through with your parents, as well as with you, you'll be killed and pitched aside just as soundly as the one's who stood against him. You think he's going to leave a bunch of power-hungry wizards and witches around to try and take him over? You won't be worth a toss to him! NO ONE WILL! Everybloodyone is a means to an end, don't you see that!?"

No one answered him. Part of the Hufflepuff table, which was nearest to them had overheard the conversation and were watching him with their jaws dropped, speechless; mimicking the lack of response he got from his own house.

He calmed himself down and stepped over the bench to stand behind it. The article in the Daily Prophet and the ensuing conversation had left him feeling nauseous and completely out of control of his own life. Lucius fully expected Draco to take the Death Eater's mark the night after his graduation from Hogwarts. He even had a small ceremony planned for him somewhere in a forest clearing, although Draco wasn't sure where. The only thing he was sure of, was that if he were somehow forced to take that mark, he would kill himself.

Oh he had no ambitions to be holy and good like the Gryffindors; to fight the good fight and bleed for the ruddy side of the moral. Like his father, he abhorred all semblance of self-righteousness and the falseness of honor, kindness and bravery. None of those were real. After all, everyone was truly out for themselves; some were just more adept at showing it than others.

He had all of his father's ambition, all of his drive, his pompousness, even his ruthlessness to a point, but the one thing Draco had not inherited from his father was his absolute yearning for power, despite what package it came in. Yes, he would take power from any other source…but never ever from Voldemort. The thought made him want to vomit.

On the outside he remained cool and calculating, and moved away from the Slytherin table as if he were merely finished eating, glaring at the Slytherins who watched him go so they would not think him weak as he made his way towards the exit of the Great Hall. On the inside, his heart was beating a staccato rhythm of dread.

He hadn't banked on the fact that someone had been watching him. That the someone had been watching him for a while, and knew when he was faking it even better than when he did.

Ginny watched his retreating form covertly as she took another bit of her scone, and swore that before he exited the great double doors that led into the hall, he sent a glance her way. She waited a few agonizing moments, and then rose slowly and began to follow him out as nonchalantly as she could. No one from their table had seemed to hear the conversation. Indeed, Ginny hadn't even been able to hear it, but she'd been casting glances Draco's way all during breakfast and could tell he'd been in a heated argument with his housemates. Ron's eyes were on her almost the entire time, but his girlfriend took his attention back at the last moment. Thank Merlin for Lavender Brown.

Ginny dashed out of the double doors and immediately ran towards the great oak double doors that led outside of the school building, pushing them open with a great heave and skipping down the huge cement steps.

As she made out the tall boy far ahead of her, his platinum hair glinting in the sun as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch, she knew that she'd been right. Malfoy always seemed to head toward the Quidditch pitch when he was angry or needed to think, much like Harry; though if he ever heard her say that he might hex her into oblivion.

But unlike Harry, who took his problems to the skies, Malfoy sat on the ground, under the same tree on the outer edge of the pitch that he could always be found under. Well, only by Ginny. She mused that she was probably the only one that knew his secret thinking spot. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction.

She watched him throw himself down on the other side of the trunk and took a few minutes to approach carefully so that he wouldn't think she'd come to spy on him.

Finally she made a small throat-clearing sound and edged her way around the tree to face Malfoy who had swiftly drawn his wand. When he saw Ginny he lowered it slowly, leaning his back against the tree once more.

"What'd you want, Red…spying on me?" he sighed almost resignedly.

Ginny smiled bracingly and sat down opposite him. "Don't flatter yourself. I just saw you leaving the Great Hall earlier than usual from breakfast and thought I'd come see what was going on."

"Aren't you worried about being late for class," said Draco sarcastically, "being a good little Gryffindor and all. You might want to scamper along now."

Ginny made no expressions as to whether his words had affected her at all. "We have about fifteen minutes left."

"Well I suppose you overheard everything," said Draco almost angrily with a raised eyebrow.

Ginny favored him with a small laugh. "You know better than that. Even if I'd wanted to spy on you, which I don't…Slytherin table's too far away from ours to hear anything."

Draco pursed his lips and shifted his position. "Then why…"

"Because you looked angry or upset…or something," said Ginny, a little flustered with herself. "Because...besides the fact that I wanted to tell you about Hogsmeade weekend. It's cancelled, you know, so you don't have to get all dressed up for me."

"I had no intention of it," said Draco lazily as he plucked a grass blade and put it between his lips. "It was only going to be a distraction. I get bored so easily."

Ginny eyed him for a moment before she saw the very small beginnings of a smile crease one corner of his lips. She grinned at him despite herself. "Nice try."

"Thanks," he said with another raised eyebrow.

They sat silently for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You can go, Red. I don't need babysitting."

Ginny smirked at him. "I never thought you did…I thought you might rather need a friend."

Draco looked up sharply at her as if she'd just attempted to play some joke on him. His expression turned sour and he stood up rather briskly. "I don't need any more bloody friends. I've got quite enough to be sick of."

Ginny stood too, though she looked slightly bewildered. "You mean Crabbe and Goyle…Oh yes, they seem the loyal type. I know whenever I need a friend, I usually look for those who can only grunt a response and don't have enough brainpower to understand me, much less give me feedback. Let me commend you. Good choices."

The speech left Draco a little lost for words and instead he ground his teeth together and turned his eyes away from her to stare angrily at some point behind her.

"I don't need you."

Ginny sighed and sat back on the ground Indian-style, staring resolutely at his knees. "I never said you did. But if you want me…my friendship, my ear…I'm here."

She knew how proud he was, knew that he'd never accepted help from anyone before to her knowledge. She just given him the perfect opportunity to laugh in her face and walk away, but as of this moment, she had suddenly become tired of playing games. Without warning she'd just laid it all out in front of him, and it was up to him now to literally take her, or leave her.

For a few moments, she thought he'd decided to walk away. He kept making little movements as if to do so, and then kept coming back around the tree to face her again. His gray eyes were so full to the brimming with his own soul at the moment that they appeared stormy. The emotions crossing his face seemed literally tormented, as if he were waging a great battle in his mind…to reach out, or not to reach out…that was the question.

Finally he sat smoothly down in front of her, his back against the tree once more. He lifted eyes to her that were almost void of the usual cold detachment, and Ginny was so startled that she had to look down to the ground. Here was a side of Draco Malfoy that she'd never seen…vulnerability.

"What do you…" he began almost hoarsely. "I don't…I don't know if I have it in me to give you what you want."

Ginny swallowed harshly and almost giggled to herself. When had their surface, sarcastic conversations suddenly turned into real ones? In some way she'd been able to get to him better than anyone else, and not through anger…through truth. She felt elated. "I don't want anything from you," she smiled genuinely, a move that almost seemed to hurt him, "I just want to help…if I can."

Draco nodded and looked up at her, a little of his old defenses rising in his tone and eyes once again. "I don't know if you can help Red, but if you're that keen on knowing, I'll let you in on some of it."

Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

The day went by way too slowly as far as Harry was concerned. Quidditch tryouts were to be at five o'clock, and as he, Hermione and Ron headed towards Lupin's Advanced DADA class at three, he noted that the other students headed that way were just as anxious to get it over with and head toward the pitch as he was.

Ron hadn't played Quidditch since his disastrous run as Gryffindor's keeper in fifth year, but he'd finally decided, with Harry's prodding to try out once again. He'd been practicing with Fred and George in their spare time over the summers and had improved quite a bit, but had decided that this time around he would try out as a beater. Ginny was to try out as keeper, and as usual with anything she put her hand to, she was bound to be good. Harry thought that the two were shoo-ins for the positions.

The advanced class went by as slowly as the rest of their lessons had, although to Harry, Ron and Hermione it was by far their most interesting. Lupin had now shown them over ten new defensive spells, a few of which were pairspells, as he called them, in which two actions are done in one.

Exarmonato, for example, was the disarm and levitation spell, desinoflamen was quite literally a simultaneous block and blast, and adleveludo was a lift and parry, in which you could parry an opponents blow while elevating him magically at the same time, giving you the opportunity to blast him backward. In addition, there was adsultopello, which attacked and propelled your foe at the same time, and effundomolior, which discharged and displaced him.

This afternoon Lupin was teaching them all about mind spells, in which an opponent's ability to think rationally was compromised.

There was the simple confusion spell, conturbatio, which confounded a person's thoughts so that he was hardly able to think rationally, and then of course there was obliviate, which quite simply erased your opponent's memory. Harry and Ron quite gleefully remembered Gilderoy Lockhart in their second year trying to get them with this particular spell, only to have it backfire on himself owing to the use of Ron's broken wand.

Lupin however, urged them to use this spell sparingly as there was no telling until the deed was done just how much of the memory would be erased.

The final spell they learned that lesson was a pairspell as well, though another one for the mind. Retrocantium caused the person casting a spell to become confused, and then to turn it upon himself. This one became a favorite of Ron's as he had fortunately been paired with Malfoy. He'd become quite adept at defensive spells and every time he was able, when the Slytherin tried to hex him, Ron forced him to hex himself.

Harry found it hilarious, although Hermione pointed out to him that it was almost disturbing how quickly Ron had become so skilled at defensive spells. Harry agreed with her. He had to admit that Ron actually almost surpassed him in this area, although Harry far surpassed Ron with attack spells. The three pondered on this for a few moments after class until Harry told them that in order for him to get to the Quidditch pitch on time that evening, he needed to begin his extra lesson with Lupin. Hermione had her healer lessons with Madame Pomfrey to attend as well so the three split up, with Ron promising to meet Harry at the Quidditch pitch at five.

The extra hour with his father flew by quickly, and although fencing was hard work and often left him feeling sweaty, exhausted and rubbery by the end, Harry found that he was enjoying the time with his father more and more. He was beginning to predict Lupin's movements before he even made them and was becoming very good at parrying blows and delivering some powerful ones himself.

He'd now learned a balestra, which was a sort of jump/lunge movement; a circular parry, which was a parry that ended in the position or line from which it started; a diagonal parry, in which the point of the sword was lifted or lowered into a vertically opposite line while making a lateral parry simultaneously; and a feint, which was an action to draw a desired response from the opponent.

This action was his favorite, as it fooled the other into opening themselves for attack, and put them on the defensive where he'd been himself only a few moments before.

By the end of the lesson, both he and Lupin found themselves on opposite ends of the room, thoroughly exhausted, and holding their swords limply in hand as if they'd become too heavy to handle anymore. Neither had been able to overcome the other for the entire hour, and the professor had to admit that his son would soon be better at the sword than he had ever been. Of course while having youth on his side, Harry also had to his advantage the use of magic at the same time, as it was becoming increasingly obvious that he almost no longer needed his wand. Often if Lupin was beginning to get the upper hand and Harry was able to focus enough to use magic while simultaneously defending himself with his blade; he was able to come up the winner. James marveled at his son and felt himself bursting with pride any time he lost to him. His first reaction was to clap his son on the back or even to hug him, but he'd held himself back for fear of an uncomfortable reaction from Harry.

They were at least now getting used to each other, this much was true; but Harry was still not yet ready for the closeness his father was bursting to have with him. Though James knew it would be a long time coming, his son was worth the wait.

Harry gave Lupin a tired smile as his father, panting, made a mock bow toward him. "You bested me this time, but I might not be as easy on you next round."

"That was your version of easy!?" asked Harry with a snort as he replaced Godric's sword behind Lupin's desk and rounded it again, "I'm really in for it then…wandless magic or no, I'm done for."

Lupin grinned then. "I'm joking, son…Harry." Lupin replaced the word quickly but Harry didn't seem to notice his slip. "Honestly you gave me quite the run for my money this afternoon. You're getting better and better. I'm really highly impressed."

Harry looked down with an embarrassed half-smile and then shook his dark head. "It's only because you're a good teacher, I expect."

A small silence followed and Harry finally looked up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'd better go. Got Quidditch tryouts before dinner and I need to change. Besides I imagine Ron's about to wet himself with worry right about now."

As Harry turned to leave Lupin made a sound. "Oy! Harry wait a second there…There's something I've been meaning to give you."

Harry hesitated uncertainly and watched as his father made his way to a narrow closet on the far end of the room and emerged a second later with a beautifully polished, streamlined, and sleek looking broom.

Harry squinted a little questionably at it until Lupin neared him and held it out to him. As soon as he saw it, there was no doubt in his mind. It was a Flametorch, one of the top models. The logo was emblazoned on its dark rich handle in the familiar ruby, each letter slanted and glowing, dancing magically with red, sparkling flames as if the word was interminably on fire.

Harry backed away from it a little uncertainly. Without really meaning to, the first thought that came to his mind was about his father's intentions. Was Lupin trying to get closer to him with an extravagant gift? He quickly quashed the thought. If he knew anything about his father's character by now, and he sincerely hoped he did, it didn't seem his style. He was hardly a Lucius Malfoy…yet, how could he accept something like this?

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was almost unable to choose what he wanted to say. "I…I don't know if I can…why are you giving this to me?"

Lupin thinned his mouth sadly as if he'd been expecting such a reaction and lowered the broom slightly. "It's not a bribery gift Harry, though I'd understand if you thought so. I'd never try to buy a relationship with you…You can be sure of that much."

"No!" began Harry sharply, "No, I…It's just…well that's one of the best, most expensive racing brooms around. Besides the fact that I…well…how did you know I wanted this model? This is one of the topmost ones…"

Lupin smiled and handed Harry the broom, smiling even wider as he watched his son finger it. "I know it's a top model. Played quite a bit of Quidditch myself in my day if you remember…I heard that you'd been just about to buy yourself one in Diagon Alley before school until the whole dark mark incident. Also I thought it might be a little hard for Gryffindor's captain and seeker to continue playing without a broom, since you gave your Firebolt to Ron Weasley."

Harry's eyes quickly darted up to his father. "Who told you about all of that?"

Lupin smiled again, with a look on his face that suggested he knew a secret. "Hermione Granger."

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh she did, did she?"

"She did," said Lupin simply. He paused for a moment and gave his son an affectionate gaze. "She loves you, you know…a lot."

Harry looked sharply at his father with an embarrassed red tinge to his cheeks. "Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't need to," said Lupin almost wistfully. "It's written all over her face. Yours as well, I might add."

Harry looked down and drew his eyebrows together. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Hermione, and it wasn't just because it was his father standing there with him. He and Hermione's relationship was to him a sort of safe haven, a hideaway shared only between the two of them, and he was unwilling to share it. It wasn't as if it was a secret to anyone, but keeping it wholly to themselves made it all the more special to them both, and Harry was reluctant to change that. Besides that fact, Harry wasn't ready to share that sort of intimacy with his father. He sometimes wondered quite truthfully if he ever would.

He looked up at his father with a gaze meant to end the subject as smoothly as possible. "She means a lot to me." He paused. "Thanks for the broom. You really…didn’t have to, but thank you…very much."

"It's nothing Harry," said Lupin quietly. "I'm sure you'd better head on, then. Five o'clock, and all."

Harry nodded then and headed toward the door but paused and turned back to his father. "It's not nothing." He gazed at his father for a brief second and then turned the corner out of sight.

Lupin stood in the same spot, staring at the door after Harry had gone, and spoke quietly into the emptiness of the room. "It's nothing compared to what I wish I could give you."

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Harry left his fencing lesson that afternoon with a lighter heart than he'd had in a while. He was becoming quite good at the sword, not to mention wandless magic, and even though he and his father had still not sat down to have a real deeper than surface conversation, he felt that a lot of the tension was slowly beginning to release. If he'd understood it all, he would have realized that what he and his father were doing was the best thing for beginning their relationship. The fencing class provided them the opportunity to work together toward a common goal, expend a lot of frustrated energy, and spend a time together that was not filled with awkward silence and the thick tension that inevitably would follow a set meeting where some sort of relationship breakthrough might be expected. This way, they were getting used to each other slowly…and James was beginning to realize that when the time for real conversation finally did come, after all of the shared time together, it might not be as strained as it could have been without it.

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

October had brought with it a quicker darkening of the day, and Harry walked toward the pitch swinging his new broom over his shoulder and squinting his eyes through the dusk of early evening to make out fellow students, teammates and hopefuls waiting at the bottom of the Gryffindor playing tower. A chilly breeze swept under his Quidditch robes billowing them around his legs, and while he walked he allowed himself a few peaceful moments to survey the change that autumn had made to the Hogwarts grounds.

The trees lining the pitch were clad in orange, red and gold, and the leaves that had fallen to the ground as if already making way for winter crunched lightly under his boots. He smiled a little in the fast approaching darkness. Often to get away from the bustle and tension that characterized his life, he would escape to the Quidditch lockers, grab his broom and head for the horizon. He loved to scan the grounds from high above and mark the changes every season made. Humid Spring with its scented rain and flowers at the end of the school year, skip summers (which could have been wonderful but were made horrid by having to spend them with the family from hell), the chilly breeze and colorful hues of fall that painted the world ruby, orange and gold, and the biting freeze and blinding white of winter that left tree limbs bowing heavily and the ground sparkling like a thick blanket of diamonds.

Sometimes, although they were few and far between, Harry was able to escape the drama that defined his life and head vertical, leaving his worries behind and watching them grow smaller and less detailed the higher he flew. These, he realized, along with the time he spent with Hermione, were the times that kept him sane.

Ron, he suddenly realized, had just jogged up to him and was walking beside him toward the pitch with a white, drawn face, carrying Harry's old Firebolt over his shoulder. Abruptly, Harry was yanked back to the present.

He squinted sideways at his friend in the dusk. "Ron, mate…you look like hell."

"I'm nervous," said Ron shakily, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Harry, I really suck rocks at this, you know. I don't know what I was thinking letting you talk me into this again."

Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back as they rounded toward Gryffindor's tower. Ron hadn't yet noticed his new broom, and he decided it would be fun to see how long it would take.

"It's our last year, Ron. What have you got to lose? Besides you're trying out for beater…that's a sight different than keeper."

Ron grimaced. "Yeah, and if Ginny gets keeper and she ends up better than me I might as well string myself from the Astronomy Tower. I'll never be able to show my face at home again."

Harry frowned. "How's that?"

"Fred and George'll never let me live it down," said Ron miserably as he let the Firebolt down to the ground to drag a dismal trail behind him. "I know the moment they find out they'll take the bloody mickey out of me. 'You let Ginny best you at Quidditch'?" Ron mocked in his best 'Fred voice', 'Well that's the end…We've had it with you. We're going to start telling everyone you were adopted again.' Then he mocked George. 'Or maybe we'll let them on you spent time at St. Mungo's when you were younger. Large sucking head wound…god-awful accident. Never been the same since. Left him a bit funny, you know.' " Ron touched his head and made a terrible face with crossed eyes and a waggling tongue.

"You actually look smarter that way."

"Bite me, Harry."

Harry snorted with laughter as the two reached Gryffindor's game tower amid the mass of other students. "Come off it Ron. They're not that bad."

Ron looked over at him scornfully. "You're not serious. You know them."

Harry had to concede that he did indeed know them. "Alright, maybe they are, but at least they don't live at the Burrow anymore. Just put them out of your mind and play your best. I know you have it in you…You only muck up when you start getting too nervous. Just calm down."

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered under his breath.

As it turned out, Ron needn't have worried near as much as he'd thought. He'd played excellently at beater, and had gotten the position after being watched by the team for only around ten minutes. To both Harry and Ron's surprise both Dean and Seamus tried out for the second beater position. While Seamus did fairly well, Dean surprised them all and seemed the best candidate along with Ron for the two positions.

The only damper on Ron's mood was the fact that Ginny had far surpassed him at keeping, though he admitted candidly to Harry, when he'd been keeper he'd not had the motivation that he had as a beater. Of course, Harry realized the speech he'd just given Ron before they'd flown out onto the field might have had something to do with that. He'd reminded Ron of how close Ginny and Malfoy had seemed to be getting, and then let it slip about how he envied beaters sometimes as they were the ones who usually got the chance to spank Malfoy from his broom.

"That's true," Ron had muttered to himself, smirking evilly. "Accidents happen all the time on the field…I could waste him."

It also helped that Harry told him he'd always imagined the bludgers carrying the faces of his enemies on them. Every time one was given a hard thrash, he sighed to Ron; he could imagine Voldemort's face being pounded into hamburger.

"Target practice for future beatings. I like it." Ron rubbed his hands together, now beaming so thoroughly with depravity that Harry pinched himself hard so he wouldn't laugh.

Ron had taken everything Harry had said and ruminated on it for a moment before shooting him a sinister, "I know what you're trying to do but I'm liking it," grin. He'd then jumped on his Firebolt and torn off across the field. He'd scared the shit out of the Gryffindor chasers who were chosen to play the "opposing team".

Harry smiled brashly. After seven years, he knew how to get to Ron.

The next week came and went with no new surprises. Classes were much the same, and Hermione, although she'd given up the extra classes she'd wanted to take when the time turner had been stolen, was still strung out with nerves owing to the fact that graduation N.E.W.T.s were only around seven months away. She kept Harry and Ron up studying until around ten o'clock at night every time she was able, and even Harry had to admit that it was getting a little annoying. He loved her with all of his soul, but Hermione was more than a little obsessed as far as he was concerned. Seven months was plenty of time. Nevertheless, Hermione never relented.

The Healer classes had been keeping her busier than usual as well. Madame Pomfrey had told her only last week that she was farther advanced than she'd ever seen a student at the level she was on now, and her skills were such that it seemed as if she'd been working the infirmary since the beginning of her schooling. Hermione seemed to have the 'magic touch', and was able to recall every healing charm and potion elixir needed when asked with an almost photographic memory. Also the healing process, a bewildered Madame Pomfrey had explained to Professor McGonnagol over a cup of hot tea one cool evening, seemed to take much less time than normal when Hermione was in on it. Pomfrey was already allowing the girl to oversee some of the injured and sick students herself, and it seemed almost as if her touch alone began the recuperation, as well as instantly calming fears and soothing frayed nerves. The nurse had never seen anything like it, and told Hermione that if she wanted to pursue the career field, she would recommend her to St. Mungo's the moment she graduated.

Of course as soon as Hermione had been given the news she'd flown down the halls and into the Gryffindor common room and almost knocked Harry over with a full body hug and a beaming smile. She told he and Ron all about it, right as Ron was about to crush Harry's queen with his rook. Ron smiled feebly at her and made his move, dully watching the rook trounce up and down on the queen until nothing was left but dust. Hermione's news had shifted the focus from the game right as he was ready to savor his winning moment, and the wind had been cruelly ripped from his sails.

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

The Saturday morning of the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, dawned clear and crisply cold. Harry opened his eyes early as he'd set his drapes to wake him by eight, and watched sleepily from under his quilt as the sun magicked the heavy golden velvet open centimeter by centimeter. Very soon fresh, new beams of bright light would be making their way across his face, but, he smiled drowsily, at least he had around half an hour of gray darkness left in his room.

He shifted for a moment and found something warm and soft spooned against his body before he remembered Hermione stumbling into the room and crawling under the covers with him around two a.m. He eased his head up to rest on a hand and elbow and gently removed a strand of hair stuck to her lips, smiling tenderly down at the slim form relaxed against him. She was dressed in a pair of his boxer shorts and a tank top, and laid with her mouth relaxed slightly open, long, dark lashes sweeping the top of her smooth cheekbones, and her hair cascading in a wavy caramel mess around her face, neck and down her back. He thought she never looked prettier than when she was sleeping. It gave him a chance to study her beautiful features at length, memorizing each one for future thought.

The sleeping together, in it's sinless form, had started some weeks earlier. It seemed that one inevitably found themselves in need of the other after some insecurity from the day or a nightmare, and kept finding themselves ultimately together, snuggling away the darkness in one bed or the other. After that it had become habit. It was much too hard to go back to the coldness of an empty bed when you'd had the warmth of a shared one. It had gotten to the point that neither could get to sleep without the other there. A few times they'd been unable to share the closeness without the almost overpowering, burning desire to share more and had separated, but it didn't last for long. By now it felt too natural, too close, too much like a part of one was missing if the other wasn't there, to sleep apart. So Harry had somehow reigned in his hormones to allow Hermione to be there with him. He didn't know she had to do the same thing every night as well. Images of Snape teaching naked Potions usually did the trick.

Too soon for Harry's liking the sun's brightness reached his bed, and he threw an arm over his face letting his head fall back down onto the pillow in defeat. Hermione groaned when the first shaft hit her eyes and turned over to face Harry, keeping her eyes closed and burying her face in his chest.

"Why, why, why…" she muffled against his chest.

Harry smoothed her hair down and scooted lower in the bed to gaze at her.

"Why what, love?"

The sun beamed brighter and she groaned unhappily again, finally pushing herself away from him and letting the light hit her full in the face. She squinted until she could take the brightness.

"Why did you have to set the drapes so early? Harry, it's Saturday for Merlin's sake…"

She humphed angrily and burrowed back under the covers. Harry chuckled at her and sat up Indian-style, yanking them up and away and causing her wild hair to fly up and cover her face. She blew huffily at it as she lay board straight on the bed.

"Give the covers back."

"It's Quidditch Saturday, 'Mione. I told Ron I'd meet him on the pitch at eight thirty to practice…Don't make me wake you the hard way."

"Why do I have to wake up!?" she whined in a most unHermione-like way.

"Because we share everything, remember?" said Harry smiling evilly and brandishing claw-like fingers at her. "Get up or suffer the consequences."

Hermione blew the hair from her face and turned widened eyes toward him. "Harry don't…I'll hex you into next fall…"

"Get up, then…I mean it Hermione, I'm coming for you…"

Harry moved closer, and Hermione finally raked her eyes over him. His unruly black hair stuck up all over his head. Large meadow-green eyes, clear as crystal, unfettered with glasses, glinted with mischief in a smooth, handsome face smirking with a roguish grin. Sculpted, firm biceps led to strong forearms and long lean fingers… snitch-catching fingers. A chiseled, bare, olive-skinned torso with a line of fine, soft black hair trailed southward, down the carved planes of his stomach to disappear beneath elastic, leading toward…well. Only a pair of heavy boxer shorts covered muscular thighs strong enough to tightly grip a broom handle on their own while the rider used his hands to reach toward his goal. Slim masculine hips...not to mention a butt that was as hard and tight as...ohmygod…

(YUM, says the author ;0)

By all that was holy and good…Heavens above…Great Merlin's ghost…She felt her pulse quickening and her heart thrumming hard against her ribcage. What she wouldn't give to let her fingers travel down that soft black trail of hair, moving downward, downward… To feel his Quidditch roughened hands on her body…nimble snitch-catching fingers; skilled fingers gliding lazily down her skin… To gaze into the verdant pools of his eyes, burning lustfully into hers as she had seen them do, his hands roaming ever so slowly down... closer and closer to…

Hermione quickly jumped up and was out of the bed in an instant, leaving Harry looking slightly, adorably disappointed and lowering his hands. She gazed at him and brought a small fist to her mouth, chewing on the knuckles nervously. Get a grip Hermione…get a bloody grip…greatgodhe'ssexy…

"I was only going to tickle you a little, 'Mione. No need to be so jumpy! Merlin, you look like I was going to attack you," he grinned.

Attack me. Ohgodjusthangon... "I just…I..you're right. I should get up…lot of studying to do…besides I told Madame Pomfrey I'd help her in the infirmary if there are any injuries at the game today. You know, there usually are…"

With that she ran from the room and grabbed her robe from her own room, shutting herself in the bathroom and immediately turning on a cooler shower than normal. Harry sat on the bed looking slightly puzzled.

The stands at the Quidditch field were filled to the brimming that afternoon, and the excited crowd of hundreds, all colored in either red and gold, or green and silver, made so much noise that most were unable to hear the person right next to them. The afternoon was much like the morning had been; cool, crisp and brightly clear with a hint of a very cool autumn in the air. A chilly breeze swept through the bleachers and Hermione tugged her robes tightly around her, fitting her red and gold scarf tighter around her neck.

She sat squashed rigidly against Hagrid in her seat and clamped her hands tightly together to avoid trembling. She peered around and above the crowd of fans waving red "Gryffindor" banners; her eyes randomly wandering toward the Gryffindor game tower where she knew Harry, Ron and Ginny were, along with the rest of their team. She could imagine Harry lecturing them at this very minute, rehashing Quidditch moves, and trying his best not to sound like Oliver Wood but failing miserably at it.

(Oliver had stayed around Hogwarts to oversee the games. He'd taken the position on after Madame Hootch left, deciding with Dumbledore's approval to continue coaching his favorite team even though he was no longer in school to play on it. But he'd finally decided to leave the position of Gryffindor team captain to Harry this year and concentrate solely on being overseer of the game.)

Hermione watched Oliver's lank form move toward the middle of the field, dragging the Quidditch game chest behind him, and she nervously shifted in her seat. Agreeing to help Madame Pomfrey with any injuries after the game had reminded her of how dangerous the sport really could be. And now, not only did she have Harry to worry about, but Ron and Ginny as well.

Hagrid, dressed warmly in a gigantic muggle-looking plaid shirt and his usual brown trousers, glanced sideways at her and gently patted her clenched hands with his gigantic one. "Now, now 'Ermione. Ain' no need in gettin' yoursel' worked up like ya are. Everythin'll work out jes' fine. You'll see."

Hermione turned stiffly to him. "It's just such a dangerous game, Hagrid. You've seen how Harry dives breakneck for the snitch! And Ron…Merlin's beard I don't know how he's going to be with…beating those hard balls. And Ginny's so small…"

"Ain' no smaller'n you, there," commented Hagrid. "Well, a bit shorter…"

"…might get hurt what with the quaffle hurtling toward her and those…those flying balls and…" Hermione continued worriedly as if Hagrid hadn't spoken.

"Well tha's the beaters job then, isn' it?" said Hagrid. "Ron an' Seamus are there to keep th' bludgers from gettin' to 'er…"

"…and the boys are so rough out there! Don't seem to care a bit that they're rushing toward the ground at a thousand miles an hour…"

"Well I don' think it's that fas'…" put in Hagrid.

"…too many times disaster has been averted by only that much…" Hermione held up a centimeters worth of measurement.

"Well now any sport worth playin' is gonna be rough…"

"…swatting those balls at each other and punching and ramming…"

"They're called bludgers 'Ermione…an' well, tha' other rubbish is considered foul then, isn' it?…"

"…always just dodging disaster, what with…"

"…well Quidditch can be a dodgy game, but…"

"…just seems way too dangerous to me. Along with all of the other things I mentioned… They. Could. Fall. Fall Hagrid! And how high up are they, I ask you!? It's just…it seems like an unnecessary risk to me…just to play a silly game."

After finishing her rant she finally turned to look anxiously at Hagrid. "Well? Don't you agree? Aren't you going to say anything!?"

Hagrid opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before regarding Hermione affectionately and patting her fatherly like on the head. He'd become used to her rants after seven years. "Well 'Ermione…I reckon boys will be boys…er, rather…an' Ginny a' course."

Hermione gave off a rattled sigh and turned to see Harry, Ron and Ginny waving at she and Hagrid from atop the Quidditch tower with beaming smiles. She waved feebly back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Seamus Finnegan sat up in the announcer's box nervously chewing a nail as he turned his head to look at all of the professors behind him. After he'd failed to get a position on Gryffindor's team, he'd decided to ask McGonnagol if he could take over being announcer for the games. She had given him a hard once-over and agreed, but had added in no uncertain terms that if he tried to commentate in any way like Lee Jordan had, she would lock him in the most stocked supply closet she could find with Peeves the Poltergeist for a whole evening. Seamus shuddered as he of thought what horrors might await him. Peeves, an endless supply of inkbottles, sharp quills, heavy books, brooms and mops and pails, and a lifetimes worth of confiscated pranks, mostly nicked from George and Fred before they'd graduated…a bead of sweat trickled down his back. He'd be dead before morning.

He swallowed hard and saw the signal from Oliver in the middle of the pitch that both teams were ready.

Clearing his throat nervously and glancing back at a hard-nosed McGonnagol one last time, he spoke into the magical microphone in front of him. "Here we are witches and wizards of Hogwarts…the very first game of the season…Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

The students in the stands jumped up and erupted in wild cheers, and Hermione stood with them, trying her best to peer around heads and shoulders toward the Gryffindor tower.

"On the right side of the field, led by team captain Harry Potter, and by far the best team I've seen yet…"

"Seamus," warned McGonnagol loudly.

He flushed and continued. "Gryffindor!"

Seven red and gold blurry figures shot out of the tower in a "V" formation, whizzing around the field and coming to rest at the opposite end from where they'd started, hovering far above the ground next to three staggered rings atop long metal poles. The rings had been decorated with red and gold streamers to mark Gryffindor's goal posts.

Hermione finally spied Harry through her binoculars; a small, slightly obscured figure with wildly blowing black hair straddling his broom confidently and turning to look at each of his teammates, pointing at players and obviously giving them instructions. The knot in her stomach tightened painfully. For some odd reason she felt as if something were off; as if some premonition of bad things to come was clenching and unclenching in her chest. But everywhere around her, students were laughing and joking with each other; waving banners and gazing happily through binoculars…nothing seemed amiss.

"And on the left side of the field, led by new team captain Draco Malfoy, this year, Slytherin!"

Once again, seven blurred figures, dressed this time in green and silver, came zooming out of their tower to fly in a successive formation, and the Slytherin stands erupted in wild cheering.

However, when the players rounded the bend and came toward the Gryffindor stands, all seven came out of formation to perform dangerously low fly-byes, buzzing so closely over students heads that a few of them had to duck. A roar of objection erupted from the Gryffindors, and their team. The Slytherin players finished their taunting and finally flew on, coming to hang motionless on the side of the field where three goal posts with green and silver streamers pointed proudly into the air.

Hermione turned her binoculars to the seven Slytherin hovering on the left side, and saw them laughing uncontrollably, with Malfoy, of course, up front and foremost. She wouldn't have been surprised if it was his idea.

"FOUL!" cried Seamus, jumping to his feet and screaming into the microphone, "Intentional fly-by! Points should be deducted, professor! Ruddy mongs!"

"That's enough Mr. Finnegan!" shouted McGonnagol furiously as she wrenched the mic from his hands and lifted it to her own mouth. Her voice suddenly became amplified. "Behavior of that sort will not be tolerated! Anything like that happens again and the game will be forfeited to Gryffindor!" She slammed the microphone back down in front of Seamus, causing a loud reverb to ring throughout the stadium, and threw herself back down on the bench. Even Snape looked unamused.

Malfoy smirked from somewhere near the goal posts. He knew exactly how far he could go before heading into serious trouble. He snickered in an almost bored way until he let his eyes meet Harry's at the far end of the field.

Potter gave him a scathing look and then pointed at him, finishing with a slit-throat gesture. The meaning was obvious. 'Stand clear…we're coming for you…' Right. Come on then, Potter. Let's do it…

From the middle of the field, Oliver Wood kicked the old wooden trunk open, and the bludgers and snitch darted upward to fly wildly around the pitch. Harry let the snitch leave his sight as he focused on Oliver. He knew he couldn't keep his eyes on it yet; not until the game started.

"Let's do this right!" yelled Oliver upward, raising a hand over squinted eyes. "Players to your positions!"

Ginny stayed in front of the goal posts, as well as the Slytherin keeper, and Ron and Dean moved into the middle a bit more, mimicking the movements of the opposing beaters. Harry flew high above them all toward the outside of the proceedings and shot a look of disgust Malfoy's way. Malfoy had also taken position and generously sent the look back Harry's way.

Marcus Wallaby, a Gryffindor chaser, and Jarius Hemdarin, a perpetually angry chaser from Slytherin's team flew into the middle of the pitch, high above Oliver's head. They shook hands quickly and gazed at each other with loathing, waiting tensely for the moment at hand.

Oliver hesitated a moment and then with a grunt, pitched the quaffle high into the air.

"And the game begins!" screamed a high-strung Seamus Finnegan.

Hemdarin immediately rammed into Wallaby and knocked him off course, grabbing the quaffle and heading at break-neck speed towards Ginny. She steadied and placed herself in front of the middle ring, ready in an instant to move left or right if necessary. But Dean, from the left spotted a bludger and batted it hard towards Jarius. The ball punched him hard in the side and he grunted, losing the quaffle. Peter Gallor quickly dove downward and grabbed it up, tucking it under his arm and speeding toward the Slytherin goal.

"…and Hemdarin loses the quaffle! Hard lines there mate…"

McGonnagol scowled but Seamus paid no attention.

"Gallor scoops it up…WATCH IT THERE, PETER!" McGonnagol swatted him hard on the back of the head and he was startled.

"PEEVES," she mouthed with narrowed eyes.

"Augh!… Umm, I meant, a bludger narrowly misses Gallor and he's speeding toward the goal…" continued Seamus, shakily.

The Slytherin keeper, the newly appointed Theodore Nott stiffened and watched Gallor carefully, finally deciding to move towards the outer left loop.

"…Gallor lobs the quaffle and…OH! He's done a Porskoff play! Goal Gryffindor!"

Gallor had faked throwing the quaffle and when Nott had flinched and headed that way, Peter chucked it through the right lower loop. Nott scowled evilly at him, and Hermione watched Harry through her binoculars, screaming his congratulations at Gallor, who was beaming proudly. She could also see Malfoy, hovering on the upper almost outside of the field, yelling angrily at Nott. It gave her a grim bit of satisfaction.

"…and Gryffindor now in possession of the quaffle coming up on the left hand side…OH NICE ONE, RON!… Weasley crashes a bludger into Malfoy as he sees him heading downward, knocking him off course…perhaps he spotted the snitch?"

Potter gave Weasley a thumbs up but hadn't intended to follow Malfoy anyway. It had been obvious he was trying a Wronski Feint. He hadn't yet spotted even a glint from the snitch.

"OH, and Millhouse loses the quaffle to Hemdarin who's closing in now on Ginny Weasley and Ooh…narrowly misses a bludger sent by Ron Weasley…quite protective of his sister, there…WOW! Nice Double Eight Loop there, Ginny! But it wasn't enough…Goal Slytherin!"

Ten points were added to Slytherin's scoreboard as well and the game was tied.

"…FLACKING! That's five foul points to Slytherin!…watch it there Gryffindors, no crowding the other players!"

Once again McGonnagol swatted Seamus on the back of the head and mouthed 'PEEVES' even more furiously.

"And no helping out your team, Finnegan," snarled Snape as he leaned forward and looked Seamus straight in the eyes.

"…Ah, umm yes…" continued Seamus, swiping the sweat from his forehead. It was so hard to remember that he wasn't just a spectator anymore. "…and Wallaby heads toward Nott yet again…will he make it!?"

Wallaby was hit on the arm by a bludger and howled but managed to toss the quaffle anyway, but instead of swatting it back outward toward the field, Nott caught it and tucked it under his arm for a very brief moment, choosing quickly which way to toss it and hoping no one noticed.

"QUAFFLE POCKING!" screamed Seamus wildly, "FIVE FOUL POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

'Damn it…' Hermione was a hundred yards away and she could still make out the curses Malfoy was mouthing. She smiled again in satisfaction, but still couldn't shake the sickening feeling that something bad was approaching…

"…and Thomas performs a nice Starfish and Stick move, whacking a bludger Hemdarin's way. Misses by an inch! OH! And Morter of Slytherin knocks it back toward him…OH! Watch it there, Dean! Punched the end of his Shooting Star…he's spinning…there. He's gained control again…Weasley gains ground toward…WOW! Nice Bludger Backbeat there, Weasley! He seems to have it in for Draco Malfoy today…"

Ron smiled nastily at Draco but Harry caught his eye and shook his head a bit…concentrate on the chasers for now…

Harry circled the field with Malfoy on the opposite side. It was becoming desperate, and the snitch was nowhere to be seen.

"…Parkin's Pince maneuver by Millhouse and Nott catches the brunt end of it, barely keeping the quaffle out…Slytherin now in control…no Gryffindor…no make that Slytherin again…"

Harry spotted a glint of gold somewhere near the bottom of the Slytherin stands and tensed up…Malfoy had seen it too…

"…ohmygod what a move! Transylvanian tackle done by Morter! Very good, I must say…ARGH! Haversacking! That was a foul…five points to Gryffindor…but it doesn't seem to matter; the quaffle's pitched toward Ginny Weasley and three Gryffindor's try a Hawkshead formation…TOO LATE! Goal Slytherin!"

Then a minute later… "GOAL GRYFFINDOR!"

The crowd of students were going wild, the colors of red, gold, green and silver moving in the air like giant waves as they stood and sat again with every move their team made.

Hermione spotted Harry when he tensed up, and saw Malfoy do the same, and both were now hurtling downward at lightning speed toward the ground, bending low on their brooms, wind whipping robes of red and green behind them. She fought the urge to cry out and cover her eyes.

"…BY MERLIN! And I think the snitch has been spotted! Look at that Sloth Grip Roll by Potter! Malfoy nearly lost it there, but he regains control…I SEE IT NOW!"

Draco and Harry were neck and neck, ramming into each other, skimming the ground and performing difficult moves so fast that most were unable to make them out. The crowd had become eerily silent.

"LOBBING! Excessive use of the elbows by Malfoy…no Potter…no Malfoy…no Potter and Malfoy…ah who gives a rub, and they're gaining fast!"

The snitch was moving erratically in front of them, a blur of gold and wings as it darted up and down, forward and backward, moving at impossibly fast speeds. Harry could feel the wind shoving his glasses back painfully onto his eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter. Malfoy's fingers were centimeters from the golden ball…so were his…

Both leaned so low to their brooms that they seemed like one with them. Harry's Flametorch was performing awesomely well, but Malfoy's Nimbus 2005 was an excellent broom as well.

The snitch began zooming above student's heads in the stands, they bent low, murmurs and cries coming from the audience. Harry zoomed so low over Hermione and Hagrid's head that she could almost reach out and touch his boot.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

As they made their way around the field yet again, this time whizzing over the heads of the Slytherin spectators and even the teachers, Malfoy had gone too fast and low to pull up in time and ended up ramming the end of his broom handle with head-on-collision speed into one of the wooden pillars supporting the stands. The sudden break gave Harry enough time to close his fingers over the snitch, and the crowd erupted in a roar, until they saw Malfoy fall almost gracefully from his broom. He plummeted almost fifty feet downward to land with a sickening thud on his back.

A loud gasp and some screams came and instant later, and every teacher in the stands immediately began making their way quickly from their seats. Oliver Wood, who was closest, ran onto the field first, with Ginny Weasley zooming downward only moments later, and Harry dropping down neatly beside her.

All three knelt quickly beside Malfoy. He was sprawled in an unnatural fashion; one arm and one leg at crooked angles, and a thin trail of blood trickling from frighteningly pale lips.

Not giving a shit who saw, Ginny cried out and bent low over him, placing her cheek over his face.

"I don't feel any breath!" she screamed in a panicky voice. "He's not breathing!"

"Move aside, move aside," panted a pale-faced Madame Pomfrey who had been sitting near in case something like this were to occur. Hermione joined her only moments later, with the rest of the teachers desperately trying to keep the other horrified students at bay, and keep them off the field. The members of both Gryffindor's and Slytherin's teams landed quickly all around them and stood back, nervously glancing at one another or whispering to each other.

Pomfrey checked Malfoy's pulse and then pulled out her wand and pointed it at his chest. "Pulmo impigritus!"

Suddenly Draco's eyes flew open, bloodshot and unseeing. His lungs drew in a ragged breath, and then continued inhaling and exhaling on their own, although shallowly.

Ginny exhaled in a loud sob and placed her hands on either side of his face, shaking it a little bit.

"D..Draco? Can you hear me?"

Ron, standing to the side next to Dean fought off the strong urge to drag Ginny away from the ferret. Although he wanted to, he knew that if he did she might never forgive him.

Draco continued to breathe, but Ginny saw no recognition spark in his lifeless gray eyes. In fact, it was almost as if he was gazing through her. She shook him again until Madame Pomfrey admonished her not to, speaking in the same breath to Hermione to levitate him and follow her to the infirmary.

"Locomotor Draco Malfoy!" said Hermione pointing her wand at Malfoy. His limp body rose upward and obediently followed Hermione and Pomfrey as they quickly made their ways across the field and began to wade their way through the throng of chattering, curious students being held back mostly by Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore.

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

Ginny, Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, and Snape all trailed into the infirmary behind Hermione and Pomfrey, and stood aside as Poppy worked over Draco, now sprawled out on one of the infirmary's impossibly white beds.

Hermione stood to the side, dancing on the balls of her feet and chewing on her knuckles, and kept making little movements as if to jump immediately should Pomfrey call on her to help. She hadn't yet assisted in any case this bad, but since her eyes kept inadvertently traveling to Ginny's stricken face, it was all she could do not to try to help with something…anything.

Pomfrey muttered a few more spells over Malfoy, but still the unblinking, unseeing expression stared through the group standing to the side. His eerie bloodshot gray eyes seemed to be looking straight at Harry, who flinched and tried to look away, but kept inevitably gazing back again. They seemed to him almost to look accusing. You did this…you caused me to fall…

Harry knew it wasn't true and yet couldn’t shake the feeling that if Draco were to die that it might somehow be his fault. He stood covered in dirt and sweat, his hair matted down on his head, and his chin downward. But his gaze rolled up over the rim of his glasses to meet Malfoy's blank stare once again. He nervously brought a thumb up to chew on the nail.

Seeing that there was nothing she could do to help Pomfrey at the moment, Hermione moved over to Harry, and gently pulled the hand from his face.

"Harry," she whispered, "I know what you're thinking. It's not your fault."

"I led him towards those stands, Hermione," Harry whispered raggedly.

"You were chasing the snitch, mate," said Ron beside him, "You didn't do this."

"I could've gone round them," Harry added quickly, chancing a glance over at Ginny, who stood near Professor Dumbledore. He had a wizened hand on her back, and she had a fist pressed to her mouth, tears running over the knuckles.

"I was showing off…thinking he wouldn't chance to follow me. Damn it…look at Ginny…Look at what I did."

Ginny leaned on Dumbledore who gazed down at her with pity, his eyes shining a bit. They watched as Poppy levitated a broad white slab of metal with an eyepiece over Draco and pointed her wand at it, saying clearly, "Perspicuus Corpus."

The slab seemed to glow for a moment, and Pomfrey then placed an eye over what resembled a monocular attached to the top of the metal.

After a few moments of staring into the scope and moving the slab to different areas of Draco's body, pointing to some with her wand and muttering healing spells, she stood erect and gazed down at the pale blonde in the bed in front of her. She turned toward the small group behind her with a morose look on her face.

"Well, I'm afraid I've done all I can for now," she said with a defeated sigh. "I don't believe he has any brain damage, but he has quite a bit of damage to his ribs, not to mention a broken arm and leg. I've done what I could, and healed the bones, though I wager it'll be a long while before he's able to do much of anything. I've lifted the breathing charm and at least he's doing that on his own, now."

"Oh gods," sobbed Ginny, "Isn't there anything else you can do!? He looks really pale, and…"

"He has some bad internal injuries, I'm afraid," said Pomfrey. "I looked through the internacorpus machine and healed the ones I could. But there's one area inside his lungs that I wasn't able to get to. If it doesn't stop bleeding on it's own, I'm afraid his lungs could fill with blood. He won't be able to breathe."

Ginny began to choke on her own sobs once again, and Ron moved over to her side placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him with fury shining brightly in her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Ron if you're coming over here to go off on him in ANY WAY you can get the hell out of it! I don't care what you think or say…I like him and that's the bloody end of it!"

No one said anything at the moment. Ron merely nodded at her and held his arms out. Ginny hesitated only a moment before throwing herself against her brother's chest and beginning to sob and shake uncontrollably.

An hour later, no one was left in the infirmary save Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny, all of whom had been allowed to stay by Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. The whole of the infirmary was covered in darkness, the only light coming from a small candle lamp above Malfoy's bed. It cast eerie shadows over the faces of the four sitting next to him.

Hermione was to come and get Pomfrey immediately should anything change with Draco, and was admonished especially to watch over his breathing. Draco had as of yet, not made a single motion, except for the rhythmic up and down movements of his now bare chest.

Ron sighed in the silence of the room. "Well, at least we won the game."

Ginny had been resting her head on the bed, staring into Draco's eyes and watching for any signs of life, but suddenly sat bolt upright, her gaze shooting dangerous daggers her brother's way.

"Well, wasn't that wholly inappropriate," she seethed quietly.

Ron hung his head. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just trying to lighten the situation."

Harry and Hermione glanced quickly at one another before returning their gazes back to Malfoy.

"Well do us all a favor, and DON'T TRY," she responded nastily.

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "Ginny, you shouldn't attack Ron. He's only trying to help. He didn’t mean anything by it."

Ginny turned an angry gaze Hermione's way, but spotted the pleading look she had on her face and calmed down. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just…I'm…not myself, right now."

Harry shifted in his chair. "Love will do that to a person."

This time three shocked glances came his way, and it was Harry's turn to look abashed. "I'm sorry. I…I spoke out of turn, I reckon…" he looked at Hermione quickly and then back at Ginny. "But I would know."

Ron looked wordlessly at Ginny, whose mouth had suddenly gone dry. She tried to form words for a few moments but found that none would made their way past her throat. Finally she began to try to rasp out a reply.

"W…well I don't…don't know if that's…only just started to…can't possibly think that…"

Hermione gave Harry a harsh jab in the thigh in the darkness of the room and he sent her a reproachful look.

"It's all right Ginny," she said soothingly, "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone…what you feel is completely your own, and…" she sent meaningful glances Harry's and especially Ron's ways. "Completely private."

Ginny continued to resemble a fish out of water, and Ron noticed quickly that she'd been holding Malfoy's hand the whole time. He scowled unhappily but chose to keep silent.

"B…but I…nothing to hide…don't have…not sure what you're all thinking…no relationship yet or anything…"

Ron sat up stiffly in his chair and leaned forward. "YET?" he hissed out angrily, "You mean never. 'Friends' is one thing. The word relationship crosses a whole 'nother line, there Gin…"

"Ron," said Harry warningly.

"MY LINE TO CROSS," Ginny leaned forward and whispered back furiously through gritted teeth.

"Ginny, he's just…" began Hermione.

"It's not all about you, Ginny," said Ron fiercely, "Think about it…who was it that attacked Hermione last month and set the bloody dark mark over the school!?"

"Ron, drop it," Harry warned again.

"That was his father, you git. Not Draco…" spat out Ginny.

"Haven't yet noticed the resemblance in them, then have you?" Ron replied sarcastically.

Ginny sat back and narrowed her eyes dangerously at Ron. "How dare you judge him when he can't defend himself, Ron. You have no idea if Draco is like his father…"

"Look, let's just calm down, all right?" said Hermione holding up her hands in a pleading gesture.

"I have plenty of ideas on him, Gin and none of them are good," said Ron standing up angrily. "You don't think his father's just waiting to give Draco Voldemort's mark the moment he graduates this year!?"

"Ron, sit down…please…" said Harry.

Ginny's wide eyes now flashed so furiously that Hermione thought she might jump over the bed and start beating on her brother. "Well, Ron…I didn't know you were such a Legilimense. Who knew?" she seethed sardonically. "What I'm saying for those of us here too ruddy moronic to understand is that we have NO IDEA what Draco is going to choose, do we!?"

"And I guess his character thus far is no indicator!?" Ron shot back.

"Ron, you had best shut you're mouth while you're ahead…" began Ginny hotly but she never got to finish her sentence.

"Oh gods," Hermione cried out, staring down at Malfoy. "Ron…shut up and go get Madame Pomfrey…his lips are turning blue!"

Ginny squealed suddenly and dropped Malfoy's hand, falling to her knees beside his bed and staring into his face. His lips were indeed tinged blue, and the shallow breathing he was yet able to do now sounded congested and came out with a horrible gurgling, wheezing sound. His expression had finally changed, but it was one of distress now…and his eyes were turned on Ginny's face as if pleading her to help him take a breath. Ginny began to scream.

Ron took off out of the room and down the hallway to the left, out of sight, where he could be heard banging on Pomfrey's door and yelling for her to come.

Harry stood stiffly, looking at Ginny and Hermione.

"Do something!" Ginny's tearful face turned to Hermione and she desperately gripped at her robes. "Hermione, you're an assistant! Please for the love of Merlin, HELP HIM!"

Hermione turned her stricken face away from Ginny to look at Harry. "Harry, I don’t know what to do…I've never dealt with this before…"

Harry shook his head at her and turned to look at Malfoy who was now almost a grayish shade of blue. The gurgling sounds had almost stopped, but that meant that he wasn't fighting as hard to continue breathing.

" 'Mione..I…"

"Hermione, PLEASE!" Ginny screamed. She placed her mouth over Malfoy's and began breathing for him, but the air only whistled and crackled in his chest. "WHERE IS MADAME POMFREY!?" She screamed out in frustration before trying to breathe for Malfoy again.

Hermione placed her hands instinctively on Malfoy's chest, trying to feel whether or not the air was filling his lungs. He was now almost completely gray, and the blue was starting to fade. Come on, Malfoy, breathe! Don't do this…don't do this to Ginny…breathe…

"RON!" bellowed Harry anxiously, "What's taking so long! HURRY UP!"

Hermione pressed more firmly on Draco's colorless chest, not realizing she was doing it. Her mind was willing him to wake up…to fight…to breathe…

Ginny sobbed into his mouth as she continued puffing into his lungs but was realizing that she was losing the battle. Suddenly, when her lips came into contact with Malfoy's again, she received an electric shock that zapped her so badly that she yelled and broke contact with him.

"WHAT THE HELL…" exclaimed Harry, pulling Ginny away from him.

Ginny struggled in his grasp. "Harry, let me go for Merlin's sake…I have to help him!"

Harry held her arm more firmly and pointed to Hermione and Malfoy. "Ginny, look."

Hermione's eyes were closed, and she seemed to have lost all contact with anything else going on around her. As if she was in a trance, her head bowed low over Malfoy's chest, her hand began to glow a purplish gold color, and the light began to spread over Malfoy's chest and up towards his mouth. An electric field seemed to hover over the whole area, and Harry, along with Ginny vaguely noticed that the hair on their arms and heads was standing up at the roots.

Hermione's lips moved steadily, as if she were chanting some spell, and she still seemed unaware of what was going on around her. With a sudden gasp of pure astonishment, Ginny saw the grayness fading from Malfoy's skin, her tear-stained face beginning to drain of all color, much like his had been, but more out of shock than anything.

Breathe, Malfoy…don't do this to Ginny…take a breath…take in some oxygen…Merlin just let the bleeding stop…just let it disappear…just let him breathe…just wake up you idiot… Hermione continued to murmur and began to see the glow of light from behind her eyelids. When she finally opened her eyes, much wider than normal, she saw her hand as if it was glued to the Slytherin's chest, and the purplish glow that seemed to be permeating, digging beneath his skin, down into his body and outward again, as if forging some unseen trail. Her hair was now standing on end, and she saw that the glow had finally detached from her fingers to finish it's journey on Malfoy's body. As quickly as it had begun, the electricity winked out with a loud snap, and Hermione's hand suddenly came loose from his chest.

Without warning, with a gasp as if from the dead brought back to life, Malfoy's eyes abruptly shone with life, blinking rapidly, and his body arched up from the mattress.

Ginny screamed and Harry grabbed at Hermione, holding both she and Ginny to him and watching Draco with horror.

As soon as he exhaled, Draco's body dropped back onto the mattress, and he lay there for a moment, looking exhausted and thoroughly stunned, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Pomfrey in her robe and slippers, with Ron running behind her finally rushed to the bed, puffing in absolute terror. She put a hand on Malfoy's head and whispered. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me?" She paused for a moment and then turned to Ron, staring at him accusingly. "Mr. Weasley, is this you're idea of a some idiotic joke!? I assure you life and death is nothing to take lightly! He's not only still breathing, but he's awake!"

Ginny gasped and Hermione moved weakly up to stand beside Malfoy and Pomfrey to stare at him with eyes blurry with complete disbelief. What had just happened…what in Merlin's name had just happened…

No one said a word, until Malfoy turned his gray eyes to look at Hermione, not with the usual contempt, but with a look of wonder. "Granger?"

Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

Hermione willed herself to move, to speak; if only she could just move one foot in front of the other she might be able to do something about the horrible scene playing out before her now like some nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. The whole thing was impossibly wrong, false…this was not how it was supposed to be. Voldemort couldn't win…from the moment she'd met Harry Potter on the train some seven years ago, she'd known ultimately that the dark lord would be destroyed. Evil never won in the end, did it? Didn't good always ultimately come out on top?

Yet, here she was, staring at the immobilised forms of Harry, Ron; perpendicular to Harry, and herself, sprawled out at their feet. They were in the dark Forest of Kavan, she realised now, as she saw the burned out ruins of what must have been the dark lord's rebuilt home, now destroyed again.

Voldemort stood above them, tall, fully formed, and filled with an unholy glee as if he knew some secret that he was about to divulge. Death Eaters stood all around him, and…dementors? What were they doing there? Weren't they still guarding Azkaban? No…she reminded herself, they had defected. Of course, they had joined Voldemort. Who else was there to unite with? If they weren't with the ministry anymore there was only one other side to go.

Voldemort was addressing his followers, spouting off some egotistical speech he'd probably been planning for years in expectation of this very event. Hermione took that opportunity to gaze at herself, Harry and Ron on the ground. If she listened closely, she could hear what Harry was saying to them…

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…this is all my fault…"

"Shut up Harry," Ron's voice seemed hoarse and he turned his head as far to the side as he could. "You can't take all the blame for this you selfish git…We all failed…all of us."

"But I…"

"Ron's right," this was herself talking now, and Hermione leaned forward, almost in anguish herself at the painful expressions on the three faces. "We're all to blame…we all made the pact, remember? We're all in this together, we…"

All in what? Where was she? What in Merlin's name was going on!?

"Never mind," the Harry on the ground spoke up again, "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, I…but I won't die without telling you both how much you mean to me."

Ohmygod… So Voldemort was about to kill them… Hermione wondered to herself how she could've expected anything less…

Harry was taking one painful turn after another, pouring out last words of love and friendship to both she and Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to scream at him…to snap him out of his lethargy…to make him do something; after all, he almost didn't need his wand anymore… However, not a word escaped her mouth, not one sound from her throat. She was bound here to watch herself and the two most important people in the world to her die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd always hated the feeling of helplessness, even to the point of almost hating dependence on anything or anyone. But now the absolute tangibility of it washed over her like some giant tidal wave, shoving her down into the sand, scraping her body backward into the undertow, sapping her strength and stealing her breath.

Voldemort was now gesturing around himself to his followers like a king addressing his army. "With the death of these comes the dawning of a new era…A time in which darkness will rule once again…"

Hermione tried desperately to scream, waving her arms and willing the three on the ground to turn their heads and see her, but nothing happened. It was as if she were in a dream. All she could do was watch the three captives on the ground grow increasingly despondent. Please get up...please do something! DON'T GIVE UP!

"…Ron…you're like my brother. Y…you don't know how much you mean to me…"

Merlin, ohgod, anyone...oh my god, he's coming toward them…

" 'Mione, I love you so much…You'll never know…how much…"

NO PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN...

"Harry, don't…" the Hermione on the ground was sobbing now, as much as she was.

"I wish I could've had more time with you. I don't know why we can't…but I want you to know, you mean everything to me."

The Hermione watching fell to her knees in torment, blind to the fact that on either side of her knelt two others doing the same thing…hands to their faces, screaming in silence, trying in vain to move forward, to intercede. Unknown to her, she mouthed at the same time the exact words that her counter-self, lying on the ground, responded to Harry with in utter agony.

"O god Harry, I love you too…"

No more words were said because Voldemort had chosen that moment to finish his speech and was now bearing forward toward them, followed closely by two Death Eaters.

"You two take whichever you want," he said, and moved with practised ease and an expression of rapture over toward Harry. "But Potter's mine."

After these words were spoken, Hermione could hear no more. Her hearing was beginning to fade and she realised with a sickening jerk downward of her heart, that this was not going to end the way she had hoped.

She watched in pure horror as Lucius Malfoy lowered the hood of his black robe and murdered Ron with one lazy movement of his wand. She watched with a sick lurch of her stomach as the Hermione on the ground turned to Harry and gave him one last unheard admonishment, and perhaps a goodbye, before the other Death Eater killed her as well.

Finally, as it was only Harry left to deal with, the sky above her suddenly grew darker. She realised that it had begun growing darker the moment Ron had died, but now, the change was all the more noticeable. What was once the orange, pink and dusky purple of a new dawn had now turned to a dark ashen grey, and some of the clouds that swept the sky had suddenly turned into a horrendous tornado, stabbed frequently with huge bolts of red lightning. The vortex came whirling towards the group on the ground, roaring louder and louder the closer it approached, and finally halted to hover above Voldemort's head. Rather than being alarmed by this fact however, the dark lord looked up into the eye of it as if greeting an old friend, and turned his attention back to Harry, who lay on the ground with a look on his face that voiced his indifference now to the situation. Hermione knew the moment he had seen Ron and her die that he had given up the will to fight. He had no emotion left…none even for himself.

She watched, paralysed with shock, as Voldemort chose a killing curse for Harry; watched as Harry twitched in the last throes of death, and as she began to slip gradually into unconsciousness, watched, through half-blinded eyes as the dark lord opened his mouth abnormally wide, jaw magically unhinged, and began to swallow the vortex whole.

Ruby red lightning now stabbed the rest of the sky, thunder roared like a giant beast, and the dark grey clouds above began roiling and surging like a gigantic whirlpool, like the forming of a massive black hole…like the earth mourning for the darkness fallen.

As she slipped away, Hermione's last thoughts were not for herself, for Ron, even for Harry, but for what the wizarding, and muggle worlds had just lost with the death of them. The prophecy had foretold that either Harry or Voldemort would die… 'FOR NONE CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…' she'd just never dreamed that it would be Harry Potter.

Void. Emptiness. Darkness, whole and unbroken… drained of light. There would be none any longer. Light had just died.

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

"Hermione love, wake up!" Harry frantically tapped on her cheek once, twice…and still she cried as if her heart had just been ripped away. He couldn't get through to her. "RON! Go get Madame Pomf…"

"I'm on it." Ron scrambled from his seat on the side of Hermione's bed and flew down the hallway once again to get Madame Pomfrey, but this time she'd heard the scream and was already sprinting down the hallway.

Ginny, perched on the side of Draco's bed beside Hermione's, was abruptly turned from her conversation with him and her mouth gaped open as she watched Hermione sob hysterically, while Harry tried to soothe her.

"What's wrong with her…" drawled Draco remotely as if asking about something as mundane as the weather. He sat up with a short grunt and peered around Ginny.

Harry didn't answer and continued his ministrations with Hermione, but his jaw was locked tight with anger. Hermione had just saved the bastard's life and he sounded about as concerned as a curious bystander.

"Move aside," said Madame Pomfrey briskly as she dropped to her knees beside Hermione's head.

Harry backed away beside Ron as Pomfrey took Hermione's face in her hands and with one hand, gave her cheek a hard slap.

Harry surged forward angrily, only just held back by Ron. "What in the hell do you think you're…"

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around wildly, finally, hesitantly bringing her hand up to rest on her stinging cheek and blinking hard to get her bearings back. She stared up at Poppy with a hurtful expression.

Ron grunted in surprise at the nurse's actions. "Modern medicine…"

Pomfrey gazed at Hermione apologetically. "You were hysterical Ms. Granger. I'm sorry I struck you. Was it a nightmare?"

"A nightmare…" repeated Hermione, wiping away stray tears; quite the understatement. However, she imagined had Pomfrey not slapped her to bring her awake, she might have continued in the awful imagery for longer. "Yes. The worst kind."

Harry moved back to her side, sitting on the side of her bed and taking her face in his hands, tenderly wiping away remaining tears with his thumbs. He helped her to sit up and she sat back against the headboard, fighting off the dizzying spell that threatened to make her sick.

Pomfrey sighed. "I thought as much. Well…are you all right now? Do you need anything?"

"I need to get out of this infirmary," said Hermione in an annoyed tone. "I've spent way too much time in here lately and I've got too much work to make up for to be setting up residence in here like this!"

"That's our Hermione," said Ron dryly.

"Yeah," said Harry with a relieved expression. "I think she'll be all right now."

Pomfrey pursed her lips and shook her head, insisting on giving Hermione a thorough check up before "being the judge of that", as she put it.

A few minutes later, she declared Hermione 'fit as a flying fyxofloggle' and gave her permission to leave if she wished, but not before giving her one last admonishment.

"All right then Ms. Granger, you may go. I'm letting you leave because you've been through a great deal tonight and I don't want to put you through anymore. However, I want you to know I've never seen anything such as what you performed tonight. So I think soon as you're up for it, we'll need to have a chat with Headmaster Dumbledore. I don’t know what this means, but I tell you the truth…I've never before witnessed healing powers such as you've shown. Never. We need to know what this means."

All eyes focused on Hermione and she nodded slowly, thinking to herself the exact same thing.

"You will help her back then, won't you two?" asked Pomfrey to Harry and Ron. She spared a glance at the infirmary clock on the wall and saw that the thermometer and syringe hands were pointing at four a.m. and flashing with a resounding (dawn in two and quarter hours).

"Great Godric's Ghost, look at the time," she exclaimed tiredly. "Well if you all can keep yourselves out of trouble long enough, we might all spare a good few hours of sleep. Do you think you five can scrub round calamity for that long?"

"I reckon we'll give it a go," smirked Ron.

Pomfrey scowled at him and planted her tired, purple-ringed eyes on Ginny. "You too, Ms. Weasley. Time you were out for a proper sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday but I gather you need to rest as well."

Ginny nodded and stood up. "Thank you Madame Pomfrey. I'll leave straight away."

Pomfrey nodded back to her and then to all of them. "Well, goodnight then." She padded back down the hallway and out of sight.

Ginny then turned coolly to Malfoy, who studied her just as coolly back. "Well…I may come visit you tomorrow…time permitting and all. No promises though."

Malfoy sat up a little more, groaning a bit painfully but managing all the same to look supremely unaffected. "None needed. Don't lump it just for me, Red. It might be brutally hard, but I'll try to muck through without your company."

Ron scowled at their verbal bantering. He'd heard Malfoy's snide comments before, but these seemed different somehow,…it seemed almost as if they were…teasing…each other. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively. He'd be damned if he'd let Ginny start something with the little maggot. Over his rotting body…

Harry helped Hermione to her feet with a look in his eyes that promised a great deal of conversation to be had once they reached their rooms. She nodded to him and simultaneously took hold of Ron's arm.

"What!?" He growled, turning sharply as he thought it was Harry. When he saw the frown on Hermione's face, he softened. "Sorry there, 'Mione. I'm just a little…on edge."

"Three guesses as to why," said Harry with a glance Ginny and Malfoy's way.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Let it go, Ron. Ginny is sixteen years old and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Besides, do you really think she's just going to bow to your will? You know her better than that."

"I just need to try harder to make her understand," said Ron hotly, glancing at the two still talking behind them. "He's dangerous, mates."

"We don't know that," said Hermione softly.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "You're not serious Hermione. What about all of his leanings toward Voldemort's views, huh? What about the fact that his father is a Death Eater? You can't seriously think he's on our side, can you?"

"As much as I hate saying it Harry," said Hermione, linking her arm with his as they moved toward the infirmary doors. "Innocent until proven guilty. And Professor Dumbledore said that, didn't he?"

"Yes he did love," said Harry with a strict look in his eyes. "And here's hoping it applies to Malfoy, because after seven years of knowing him, he's not looking too spotless."

Hermione frowned but chose not to respond and turned around to beckon toward Ron. "Ron…come with us, will you? I know it's really late but what Harry and I need to talk about concerns you too."

Ron sighed, finally conceding that Ginny was purposefully ignoring his gaze of death and moved to follow Harry and Hermione out of the infirmary, but a voice behind the three stopped them.

"Granger…"

Hermione stiffened. She had hoped to be able to sneak out without having to talk to Malfoy. She couldn't imagine for the life of her what he'd have to say to her. None of what he'd ever had to say to her was good. Most consisted of name-calling.

She felt Harry and Ron grow instantly rigid beside her but turned anyway.

"Look," she began quietly, not meeting his eyes. "It's really late. Can we just skip all of the…"

"Thank you."

Out of all the things Hermione had envisioned Malfoy saying to her in that moment, 'thank you' was definitely not one of them. She had expected some nasty remark; some inappropriate, ugly comment about being touched by a 'mudblood' or some other such nonsense. She realised that she had turned around and was moving her lips without a sound. Harry and Ron seemed to be equally as thunderstruck. Neither said a word.

Malfoy looked either slightly embarrassed or somewhat uncomfortable, but he pressed on irritatedly anyway. It was apparent by the look on Ginny's face that she hadn't expected this turn of events either.

"I mean it. I don't know what you did, but…I a..apr…appreciate it. Thank you."

That such simple words could so thoroughly stun her…Hermione's eyes widened. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, the three of them might somehow be able to get along with him after all; if they could just all come to an understanding of each other. Maybe Ron might someday be able to accept Ginny and Malfoy's relationship…whatever that was. However, Ron chose that moment to do a dumb thing.

"She didn't do it for you, ferret. She did it for Ginny." He looked irately from Ginny to Malfoy, whose hand was way to close to his sisters for his comfort.

At that moment, any semblance of civility went out the door as abruptly as it had snuck in. Hermione looked down and placed a hand over her face, then looking up at Ron.

"Ron…I can't believe you just…"

"Don't believe anyone asked for your opinion, Weasel," said Draco, now with the cool hard edge to his voice that the trio knew him by. "And on top of that, you can ruddy well kiss my arse you trumped up piece of shit."

"Come round and bend over then. Let's see what happens…" said Ron dangerously, balling up his fists.

Ginny reddened with fury and stood. "In case you've missed it Ron, he's got a broken arm and leg…and I swear to Merlin I'll never speak to you again if you…"

"Ron, let's go." Harry took a firm hold of his arm and began pulling him out of the infirmary.

"You stay away from my sister you son of a bloody Death Eater!" Ron yelled out furiously as Harry yanked him out of the door and let it swing shut with a resounding bang.

Son of a bloody Death Eater…The sound of it rang through the room for a few moments before Ginny turned toward Draco again.

"I'm really sorry, Draco. He had no right saying…"

"Maybe you should go then," said Malfoy in a glacial, dismissive voice that he'd not quite used with Ginny before.

Ginny paused, mouth still open to form another word, and looked at Draco as if he'd just formed a second head. "What?"

"Go on then," barked Draco with a hard, yet smooth edge to his voice. "Didn't think I really needed you, did you? I don't need anyone. Though I do use them for a while if the urge comes on. You didn't honestly think you and I could..be…OH. I guess you did then," he finished cruelly.

Ginny looked simply floored and felt her eyes filling, her face flushing hot.

"Well," continued Malfoy with an air of complete nonchalance, "Life's full of brutal lessons, isn't it? SO…Life lesson number one, Red: don't trust anyone. There's not a person in this world who won't let you down."

Ginny stood for a long moment, peering searchingly into his face; eyes filled with unshed tears, swallowing reflexively. Then, she did something Malfoy totally hadn't expected from her. She calmed completely down.

When she spoke, her voice was icy and even. "All right then. I'll go if it's what you want. I have to tell you though Draco…I'm highly disappointed."

With that she turned on her heels and began to march composedly toward the door, yanking up her discarded Quidditch wrist and kneepads in her wake.

Draco became even more infuriated and sat straight up in his bed, ignoring the pain in his arm and leg from the shift. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ginny whirled around. "Now you want me to stay? Which is it? I don't have time for games."

He ignored her question. "Just what the bloody hell do you mean by 'highly disappointed'!?"

Ginny smirked, completely in control of her emotions. It felt good. "Exactly that. I just thought you were your own person, that's all."

Draco thinned his lips. "Again I ask, what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!?"

Finally, Ginny got mad. She tossed down the Quidditch gear and strode over to his bed, pointing a shaking finger in his face and effectively stunning him into silence. "If I had my wand with me I'd put a bat bogey hex on you that would make the one I gave you two years ago look like frickin CHILD'S PLAY," she hissed furiously. She felt her blood boiling, but visibly tried to calm herself. She finished her sentence with a cool sort of detachment of which Malfoy had only thought himself capable.

"I'm surprised at you. Here I thought you were always so in control, so self assured, so confident in yourself and who you are…but one word from my brother makes you doubt yourself so much you'll push away the only real friend you've ever had."

"Don't act as if you really know me, Red," snarled Draco angrily with narrowed eyes. "No one does!"

"WHOSE FAULT IS THAT!?" roared Ginny furiously, close to his face. "If there's anything I DO know, it's this…you can be whoever you want to be! You can turn into whatever type of person you choose! You don't have to follow your father! You don't have to act a bastard because it's expected of you! You don't have to be a damn PRICK just because my brother and his friends think you are! And you don't have to push me away because your scared I'll agree with them…because like you…I have a mind of my own! And right now, my mind is telling me to get the hell out of this room!"

With every word, Draco felt his icy interior thawing. She believed in him. She actually believed there was more to him than what met the eye; that he might in fact have the decency in him to turn out differently. And along with the awesome feeling of letting his guard begin to slip for once, he found a furious, fiery, completely in control Ginny to be a massive turn-on. He would finally admit to himself much later that the combining of those two emotions would prove to be the downfall of the usual Draco Malfoy.

With a look that told him that she'd had enough of him and that he could most certainly go to hell, Ginny turned to leave, but Malfoy caught her hand and pulled her down to the bed beside him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're…"

However, Ginny's words were muffled and ultimately cut off by the hand that suddenly gripped behind her head and yanked her into a hard, aroused, heated, and most desperately passionate kiss. A kiss so full of desire, so full of a hot powerful, drumming need; craving, pent up emotion that had just begun to spill out, that it left her breathless and trembling; weak because of it. For a moment, she was stunned breathless; then all of her anger surged upward and she replaced it with an appetite for him that was just as intense.

How dare you..push me away, she thought. She returned the bruising pressure; wrapping one arm around his good side…mouths pressing together hungrily, yearning, succumbing to the downward rhythms his mouth was pushing her with towards the bed.

Draco increased the urgency, sliding his tongue into her mouth, filling her, tasting her, needing her…YES. Needing her… Don't think you know me…

Don't think you can control me. N..no one c..controls me… Ginny felt a fluttering heat just under her ribcage, one that travelled deliciously downward…

Draco laid her back and rolled halfway on top of her, keeping the pressure firm but moving slowly owing to the pain in his newly mended arm and leg… I can... make up my own damn mind... He felt his precious self-control, the one thing he truly owned in and of himself beginning to slip away. He began to mould his body to hers… pressing, rhythmic, demanding, firmness meeting curves…

His blonde hair, normally smoothed back, had now begun falling wildly over his forehead. The natural freedom of it, at least to Ginny, somehow served to mimic something inward. A side he kept hidden from the rest of the world…the side that was passionate; the side that felt.

She'd been kissed before, but never, never like this. She'd never known anything like him; so smooth, so sensual, so blindly knowledgeable, demanding, intensely bent on ownership. His body moved over hers so slowly, so deliberately slowly… N..no one tells me wh..what to do... I can make up my own damn mi...my...mygod...

Draco felt himself hardening, felt Ginny beneath him whimpering into his mouth her loss of control, and felt his own fears releasing… I can make up my own damn mind…she's right.

His lips finally lifted from hers, faces close, breathless, flushed, overwhelmed with a long denied want and pent up frustration. He felt himself throbbing with need and knew by the movements she made underneath him, with eyes half-lidded and glazed with passion that she was too. This meant, if he truly cared about her, and he did (damn her), that he would need to stop this right now. But gods, it felt too good to just let go…

Ginny pushed him upward with a reserve of control she wasn't sure she had and wriggled out from underneath him, causing a groan from him that could only be described as primal. She smiled shakily and sat up, pausing for a moment to control her laboured breathing before speaking.

"There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Her tone belied the fact that she felt totally powerless now where he was concerned, but it didn't hurt to have him think otherwise.

The smouldering look Draco gave her was enough to make Ginny squirm. He licked his lips. "Damn you, Red."

Ginny smirked. "I think you just lost control."

"I could say the same," countered Malfoy, crossing his unsplinted arm over the other, covering his bare chest. "And Malfoy's don't lose control. We just put it aside when the mood suits us…and it definitely suited me."

Ginny stood and began smoothing down her long hair. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

She began to walk toward the door, swinging her hips more than needed, until a final soft word from Malfoy stopped her.

"Ginny…"

That low, sensual tone…smooth as silk. The word travelled across the room and moved over her like a caress. She could almost feel his eyes raking her…those grey, smoky, seductive eyes… She shuddered and closed her own for a moment before turning around.

"Yes?"

Malfoy smiled then, a slow lecherous upcurving of his lips and a downward cock of his head that made her tremble. "Come visit me tomorrow."

After reminding herself to take a breath, she smiled back at him. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me Ginny."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

She decided to return the seductive look. "Call me Red."

With that, Ginny left the room feeling light and airy, buzzing full of something she couldn't define, and leaving Malfoy slumped in his bed feeling the exact same things.

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

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat themselves in front of the warm fire glowing orange and yellow in the head boy and girl's common room. Harry had fetched a quilt for Hermione and had wrapped it snugly around her before joining her on the couch, with Ron on her other side. The quiet in the room after the day's crazy events was certainly welcome, and Hermione sat for a few moments with her favourite boys content to just soak up the silence. She and Harry didn't mind letting Ron share in their little hideaway every now and then, though with his relationship with Lavender blossoming the way it seemed to be, he rarely interrupted them anyway. The three had almost settled into a routine. Trio time was done after school…a couple of hours of fun and relaxation followed by a few hours of studying. Then Harry and Hermione would retreat by themselves, leaving Ron to spend the rest of the evening with Lavender. Sometimes though, it was nice to just have the three of them together in Harry and Hermione's private common room; to pretend they were all eleven again and naïve to the world's problems. Ron was always welcome. However, with what they had to discuss tonight, childishness, peace, and quiet would have to wait.

Harry was the first to break the silence. "So…do you want to tell us what that was back there?"

Hermione looked rueful and drew the quilt tightly about her, sidling closer to Harry's side. "Which part? There were so many."

"The part where your glowing hand was stuck to Malfoy's chest," said Ron, slumped on the couch and keeping his eyes planted on the dancing flames before him. "The part where he was suddenly all right when only seconds before he was ready to kick it… and let's not forget the part where you fell out afterward…"

"I get your point," said Hermione drolly.

Harry sighed and put his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. "Do you know what happened, love?"

"No, I really don't," said Hermione a little shakily. "One moment I was completely overwhelmed what with Ginny hysterical and begging me to help…I put my hand on Malfoy's chest to see if I could feel him breathing. I remember thinking things to myself…just begging him not to die, willing the bleeding to stop; willing him to take a breath, and then…my hand was joined to his chest. I felt this…this warmth spread over me; this energy that I've never experienced before. I remember feeling it flow from me into him, and when I could finally lift my hand… I was so weak I could barely move."

"…And the little rotter was all right again," said Ron bitterly.

"Don't sound so overjoyed," said Hermione a little coldly. "However we may think on him Ron, he's still a person. He doesn't deserve to die."

Ron shook his head in frustration. "I don't want him to die for Merlin's sake. I just want him to naff off Ginny."

"Once again Ron," said Harry, shifting a bit in his seat, "Ginny is sixteen. She can make up her own mind. Odds are she will… In any case, we've more important things to think on now."

"More important that my sister arsing about with Lucius Malfoy's son!?" asked Ron a little hotly, sitting up and peering around Hermione at Harry.

"Yeah Ron, for the moment," said Harry with hard sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione spoke up to intercede before the two began arguing. "I've something else to tell you two. About the dream I had."

"The nightmare?" said Ron.

Hermione nodded and tore her eyes away from the fire to look from Ron to Harry. "It was the worst I've ever had. The worst I hope to ever have."

" 'Mione," said Harry gently, "I've had nightmares. That's all they are; just nightmares."

"This was different," said Hermione with conviction in her voice. "There was something almost…futuristic about it; like a warning."

Ron smirked at her. "Thinking of nicking Trelawny's position? Hermione Granger…Seer extraordinaire."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Ronald Weasley…Potions expert. Professor Snape's right hand man."

Ron frowned at her. "Hermione…that was below the belt."

She rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "When I blacked out, I felt as if I fell instantly into the dream. It was as if no time passed where I just slept. I closed my eyes in the infirmary…and I opened them in the Kavan Forest; back in the dark little clearing where Voldemort held me captive year last. His cabin looked as if it had been rebuilt and destroyed again. Voldemort was there, and Harry…he had his body back."

Hermione suddenly noticed that both Harry and Ron had stiffened, and Harry in particular stared intensely at her as if his very life now hung on her words. She had expected them to take her dream seriously, but the fervour with which they were listening began to make her uneasy.

"What is it…?" she asked warily.

"Keep on," said Harry. Ron merely nodded at her.

She glanced suspiciously at them and continued. "We were all three there. It was as if I was watching from the outside looking on. I couldn't move, speak, or do anything to change what was happening. We were immobilised; laid out in a strange sort of pattern I can't remember. Voldemort was talking to Death Eaters and Dementors…telling them they would be rewarded as promised. Then…" Hermione felt her throat tighten and closed her eyes to ward off the tears that threatened to spill out again. The thought of the horrendous things she had witnessed, although it had only been a nightmare, was enough to make her begin to tremble. Ron took her hand, and Harry squeezed her tighter to him.

"Then," she managed to choke out, "Voldemort decided it was time for us to die. Lucius Malfoy killed you, Ron…another did me. The sky had begun to change, to grow darker and more threatening the moment the first of us died. Voldemort decided he wanted the honour of killing you himself." She glanced up at Harry. An ominous frown was stamped on his face and he sat deathly still, his eyes planted on the fire in the hearth, but staring through the flames.

"Right before you died," she continued a bit tremulously, "it was darkest of all. A horrible tornado swirled across the sky and came to rest right above Voldemort. When…wh..when he…killed you…after you died…he swallowed it whole. I just remember the look on his face. He opened his mouth so wide." Hermione shuddered violently. "It was the maddest look I've ever seen."

Harry looked deeply troubled now, and Ron, Ron looked as if he was about to pass out himself. Hermione looked from one to the other and a fear began to spread throughout her body as if her blood were rushing it to every part at once.

"What is it!?" She finally cried out. "What has you two so jarred!? Harry, you said yourself it was only a nightmare…"

"I've had that dream Hermione," said Ron quietly. "The very same."

Harry jerked round to look at him.

"What!?" Hermione felt as if a swarm of bees had just been set loose inside her body. "No Ron. That can't be. Maybe it was just similar to…"

"No," said Ron firmly, "it was that exact dream. I remember watching us lay there. I couldn't move…I couldn't speak. I remember giving our good-byes. Harry said I was just like his brother. He said he wished he had more time with you. He told you he loved you."

Hermione sucked in a breath that sounded more like a sob, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "Yes!"

Ron lowered his eyebrows, his face a mixture of fear and confusion. "I don't know what this means…"

"Harry?" Hermione turned to Harry, who hadn't yet spoken.

He turned troubled eyes to stare deeply into hers, and then at Ron. "I don't know what it means either…because I had it first. The same bloody dream this summer at the Dursley's."

For a moment, Hermione felt as if she were floating back in a fantasy world again, as if she might wake up the next moment and everything would turn normal once more. Nevertheless, she knew by the looks on Harry and Ron's faces that what they were discussing was all too real.

Suddenly Ron looked up to Harry as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Harry! Do you remember that day in Divination? When Trelawny turned rigid and started spouting bosh on how the dark one was coming? Something about…' the forces of light will scarce stand against it…the triangle must come together…' "

"Yes," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I remember what you told me…' she also said the circle must be made whole…he must learn what he was born to perform…he must train…' I…I think the pattern we were laid in the dream now I think on it…it was a triangle!"

Harry nodded then and spoke up. " 'Only the covenant of the triangle will stop them; only the joining of the circle will make him strong enough.' I still don't get the circle…She said some Latin phrases too, though I don't remember them."

Hermione sighed loudly. "Honestly Harry. This could be one of the most important prophecies we've heard and you don't think to write everything down once you've heard it? For the love of Godric…" She got up a little huffily and strode into her room.

Harry looked exasperated at Ron and shrugged. "What? How should I know when the old bag's had an actual 'premonition'!? Most of them are rot anyway."

"Don't ask me mate," said Ron a little chagrined. "I never wrote any of it down."

Hermione exited her room soon after with a small rolled up piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle, and made her way over to she and Harry's small library in the back of the common room, plucking three thick, dusty volumes from off of the shelves.

"I wrote down the whole of the prophecy in case we needed to think on it again," said Hermione officiously, walking round the couch and plopping down beside them. She dropped the books on the couch and unrolled the parchment, glancing over it reproachfully at Harry and Ron. "Let's see…" She mumbled the words she read under her breath until she found what she was looking for. "Here it is! Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo… She repeats it a few times…"

"Well that's all gash to me," said Ron, flopping back against the couch again. "What's it mean then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, looking frustrated with them again. "Mingin' Merlin…are you two ever going to study up your Latin? Don't you ever think on the definition of the words we use in our spells?"

"Not often," said Harry flippantly. "I just worry they get the job done."

"Right on," said Ron lazily.

Hermione huffed with displeasure but smiled anyway. "Well fortunately for you two, I do." She held up three copies of Demonstrative Latin Lingo, Volumes D-F, J-L, and S-U, and instantly brightened.

"Isn't it wonderful!?" she beamed happily. "I've been scanning our little library here in my spare time, and see what they've given us!? An entire set of Latin dictionaries! Harry, I'll wager you need quite a bit of dusting up with your Latin. We can study on it later, starting with Volume one, A-C. I'll quiz you!"

Harry looked at her shining face and smiled weakly. "Can't wait."

Ron snuck Harry a look of pity while Hermione scanned the volume excitedly. Finally, she came up for air.

"Here's the first word," she said a little breathlessly. "Sodalis. It means…society or fellowship."

Harry peered over her shoulder but she snapped the book closed and quickly charmed her quill to begin writing. The quill jumped upright, dipped itself into the inkbottle and wrote the word 'society' on the parchment in Hermione's tidy scrawl.

"Now then," said Hermione business-like as she picked up the second volume, "Next word."

She flipped through S-U until she found what she was looking for. "Tria…three. Should've known that one." The quill scratched down the word. The next two words were equally as simple to find. Evalesco ended up meaning 'power', and Leo, obviously, 'lion'.

When it was finished, the quill threw itself down flat on the table and Hermione snatched up the parchment.

"Sodalis tria…The 'fellowship of three', I suppose. And Evalesco Leo… 'power of the lion'."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Well…that says it all then doesn't it? It's obvious we're the fellowship of three, you Ron and I; you two are closest to me. And 'the power of the lion'…we're all in Gryffindor."

"I wonder," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Are we to make some sort of covenant with each other, then? Some sort of magical pact? According to what Trelawny said…"

However, Ron, now musing thoughtfully with his chin in his hand, spoke up with a quiet voice full of a wisdom he felt he couldn't define. "I think we've done it already."

Harry frowned at him. "Huh? What're you on about? Some magical coming together? I don't think so…"

"I don't think it's meant to be magical Harry," said Ron giving the two of them a piercing look. "Do you remember when the three of us became real friends? Not just you and I Harry, but all three of us."

Harry took a moment to think back. The three of them had been so close for so long that it seemed he had a lifetime's worth of memories to sort through. However, the answer came to him quickly.

"Our first year…that day with the troll. You remember love?" Harry smirked and turned to Hermione who sat looking at the two of them with a wistful smile on her face.

"Well…Very well." she said quietly. "When I lied to Professor McGonnagol…I'd never thought I would lie to a teacher. I'd never thought I would ever break a rule! But you two were worth it…worth any trouble I might have got into. I think we all knew right then we'd do anything for each other."

"Still do," smiled Ron. "And that day…that was the day we made the covenant. It may have been without words, but it was a pact all the same. I think we all knew it on some level. Maybe it just took us this long to understand it. Maybe that's what the prophecy is about…just realising it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ron knew he had hit on it. Something amazing began to happen; something static and energised… The warm air in the room suddenly hummed thick with power. Needle thin strands of light; blue and purple and green came from nowhere and buzzed above their heads, making the hair on their heads stand; lighting the room with a swirling kaleidoscope of colour…an electrical storm so tangible that they felt they could reach out and touch the discharge on their fingertips. Power blew around them like a warm breeze, leaving a metallic taste on their tongues and covering their skin in gooseflesh.

Hermione hugged herself, feeling as if the sudden eerie display should have frightened her, frightened them all, and yet, she felt calm, peaceful somehow. It was as if she'd always known there was something more; something just out of reach. Perhaps it had just not yet been the time…

The electricity stopped its movement and began dying away, each strand converging together to form a bright golden colour and finally cracking out of existence. The room was instantly shadowed and warmed only by the fire once again.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat staring at each other for some time; eyes wide with surprise but calm, hearts beating fast, but with the strange knowledge that what had just happened wasn't as foreign to them as they would have thought. Nothing about themselves had changed, just the knowledge that their friendship, their supposed chance meeting and consequential friendship, wasn't as random as they had thought. In fact, it had never been haphazard at all…

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

As it happened, neither Harry nor Hermione got much sleep, having only just dropped exhausted onto Harry's bed by six o'clock the next morning. Dawn seemed to rise extra early, but Harry had set his drapes to stay closed until he opened them himself, so he ended up waking on his own with Hermione still nestled closely into him sleeping soundly at around ten Sunday morning.

Oddly enough, his first thoughts when waking earlier than he had intended was that he wanted to talk to his father. Talking with Sirius was damned near impossible as Dumbledore had warned him to use the floo only when absolutely necessary to keep his fugitive godfather safe. In addition, although he knew he could share anything with Sirius, somehow Harry wanted to share what had happened last night with his father. Somehow, for some reason, he had woken earlier than he had intended with the immediate feeling that he was now ready to have a real heart-to-heart with James.

He felt, without understanding why, that the current state of his life was drawing to a close, to some sort of ending. He hoped that meant that a new beginning was waiting in the wings, though he wasn't so naïve as to think that he was invincible. The truth was that when he finally did meet Voldemort again, if he really was as powerful now as the shared dream had lead them to believe, he might not make it out alive. He wanted all loose ends tied up if that was to be the case. He wanted the chance to clear everything up with his father …and to know as much about he and his mother as he possibly could.

Harry eased himself onto his elbow carefully so as not to disturb Hermione and gazed tenderly down at her sleeping form. Gods, what he would give to be able to promise her that everything was going to turn out all right. To promise that they would all make it through the last battle with Voldemort unscathed; that they would be able to grow old together, he with her, and Ron with whomever he chose.

He wanted to be able to tell her that he could see them all together some ten years from now, sitting on the front porch of one of their houses, laughing with each other and watching their children romping playfully together in the grass.

Not for the first time, Harry smiled ruefully at the fact that if he were a normal boy of seventeen, the thought of marriage and a yard full of children would be the last thing on his mind. However, Harry was far from a normal boy of seventeen. He had already lived through a lifetime's worth of sorrow and had had to endure far more than his share of worry. He knew he'd had to grow up a lot sooner than most others do. He didn't however feel sorry for himself; it was just fact. Such was the life of the boy-who-lived. He looked down at Hermione's curled up form once more and gently smoothed her hair down. He'd often thought to himself that a more appropriate title would have been the boy-who-survived. After all, he hadn't really had the chance to live yet, had he? Surely, there was more to life than mere survival.

Harry sighed and put away his thoughts, carefully extracting his arm from under Hermione's waist and easing slowly out of the bed. After pulling on a black jumper and a worn pair of jeans and trainers, he pulled the golden quilt up to Hermione's shoulders, planted a soft kiss on her cheek and headed out of his portrait door.

After failing to find his father in his classroom, the great hall, the teacher's lounge, or his quarters, Harry had a good idea of where he might search next.

To his surprise, the halls leading outside were almost empty, but once he opened the great doors to the school and blinked his way into the bright chilly autumn morning, he understood why. Hogwarts grounds were littered with students; some lying together on blankets, studying and reading, others playing Hell or Hex, (Dean had obviously got the raw end of the deal as he was currently being forced to plant a kiss on a raging, struggling grindylow. Seamus and Neville were nearby howling with laughter).

Some headed towards the Quidditch pitch, brooms in hand, and others simply lounged peacefully near the lake where the giant squid was out in full force, waving to the students from afar as it was too cold for anyone to swim. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, but as Harry crunched his way across the multicoloured grounds littered with fallen leaves towards Hagrid's hut where, a plume of smoke was rising lazily from the chimney, it was almost impossible for him to appreciate it. He marvelled as he passed fellow students smiling and laughing together, playing or preparing for tests, that there were still people in the world who worried about things as mundane as schoolwork or the next Quidditch match, or anything of such small importance for that matter. Voldemort was back with a vengeance, strange things were happening with he and his friends, he had, at best, a floundering relationship with his father whom he had thought dead for the last sixteen years, and had only the world's nastiest relatives to fall back on in the way of family.

Nevertheless, Harry stopped then and mentally raged at himself. He had Sirius, Ron, who was like a brother to him, not to mention the entire Weasley household, and Hermione…beautiful, amazing Hermione. Hermione who truly loved the real him and not just his image; Hermione who held him grounded; Hermione who had always believed in him to a fault; Hermione who kept his faith; Hermione, who was to him like water to a man trapped in the driest desert. Harry smiled to himself. He had nothing to regret. He was the richest man alive.

The door to Hagrid's hut was open, probably to let in fresh air. As Harry approached, sure enough, there sat Lupin, sharing a pot of tea with Hagrid, and looking strangely dwarfed by the giant's huge table and chairs. Harry smiled again as he heard Hagrid's roaring laughter resounding off the walls of his large hut, and at Lupin, grasping a huge teacup and grinning madly.

"Well, 'Arry!" boomed Hagrid, catching sight of Harry as he approached with hands crammed in the pockets of his jeans. " I was wunnerin' when you'd come ter visit me agin! Yer father n' me were jes' swappin' stories 'bout our days back at school, there. Sounds ter me like we was roun' a 'bout one an' th' same as far as trouble makin' went!"

Harry smiled. "I can only imagine." He entered the hut, noting the look of pleasant surprise Lupin gave him as he approached.

"I'll wager you can do more'n imagine, there." Said Hagrid, giving him a keen glance over his teacup. "You an' yours 'ave 'ad your share then, 'aven't ya?"

Harry grinned passively back at him. "Well, I reckon it's more like trouble finds us than the other way round."

"That's how Sirius and I always saw it." said Lupin. "Hello son."

"Professor," Harry nodded back.

Hagrid caught that Harry had not called Lupin 'dad' and frowned very slightly. However, all Harry noticed was that Hagrid had called Lupin his 'father' and that Lupin had called him son in front of the giant.

"I guess you've been updated then," said Harry to Hagrid as he leaned tiredly against the doorjamb.

Hagrid faltered for a moment. It wouldn't do Harry or his dad's relationship any good for Harry to know how Hagrid had raged at James for the better part of an hour when he'd found who he really was, about how his son had grown up without him. James had taken it though as if he'd deserved every condemning word, and had thanked Hagrid for loving Harry as much as he did. He'd explained his actions to the giant as well as he could, and Hagrid, after understanding him a bit more, had decided to try to get to know the elder Potter. They'd been spending bits of time together ever since.

Hagrid couldn't find proper words to answer Harry with. He spoke quietly. "I 'ave."

"I felt it would be easier that way," said Lupin straightforwardly. "I've only told the other professors though. I hope you're alright on that, Harry."

"Might as well," said Harry more easily than he felt. "It would have got out sooner or later. Dumbledore and McGonnagol already knew…how did the rest take it?"

Lupin sighed. "Well, they were surprised to say the least. Snape was in a right state. He hated me enough as Remus Lupin, but at least Remus was a bit sympathetic to him in school. I on the other hand…Well, suffice it to say I had a bit of an ego problem back then."

Harry paused and thought it best not to reveal to his father that he'd seen some of his behaviour in Snape's pensieve his fifth year. Besides, all else could wait for the moment.

"Sit an' 'ave a cuppa with us, then," said Hagrid beginning to get up to refill his huge kettle.

Harry held up a hand. "Could I come back later for it, Hagrid? I was hoping to have a talk with the professor if you don't mind."

Lupin turned to look at Harry once again, clear surprise etched in his features, but he was quick to take Harry up on the offer. Hagrid had begun to smile. It was obvious he thought some sort of breakthrough was on hand.

"Of course," said Lupin. He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. "Hagrid, thank you for the tea. We'll chat again sometime soon."

They said their good-byes to the giant and Lupin followed Harry out into the crisp late morning. After they'd got a bit farther from the hut, Lupin spoke up.

"Where would you like to go?"

"I thought we could stroll round the lake if it suits you," said Harry.

"Fine," said Lupin. He'd felt this time would come eventually. He wasn't so naïve as to think that the entire conversation was going to go as pleasantly as it had so far. After all, Harry surely had a lot of bitterness and anger, and many unanswered questions. But it would be communication nonetheless, and a start to something more. Openness and honesty usually broke down the barriers, no matter how painful the truth turned out to be.

The late morning sun shone on the top of the massive lake like a web of diamonds, but it was still not enough to warm the autumn chill in the air. The giant squid had disappeared back into the dark depths of the water which was still surrounded by clumps of students here and there, most noticeably a large gaggle of first years playing "Where's the Wizard?", a game Harry noticed was strikingly similar to the Muggle version of "Hide and Seek".

They had to walk for quite a while to find an area not yet populated, and Harry and his father stayed in relative silence until they were finally able to come upon a suitable area with no one else around. Harry slowed to a halt, nervously running his fingers through his hair at the same time as Lupin did; though neither was paying enough attention to notice.

Harry began inarticulately, giving away just how nervous he really was. "Er…I…we haven't really had the chance to talk as of yet…Been quite busy you know, what with Head Boy duties and N.E.W.T.s coming up; not to mention all the goings on with Voldemort." Harry paused, with his hands still crammed around his robes in the pockets of his jeans. He shifted from one foot to the other and finally raised his eyes to squint at his father through the rays of the bright sun. "But there's other more important things I wanted to talk with you about first."

Lupin peered at him. More important? He had thought he'd been keeping quite a close eye on Harry and his companions as of late. How was it that he had missed something?

"Go on."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure you heard about what happened with Malfoy…"

" 'Course I did Harry, I was there," said Lupin, "Every teacher was."

"Not after," finished Harry abruptly. "Something happened in the infirmary; something with Hermione. I…I wondered if you might have any thoughts on it."

Lupin frowned in concern. "Is she all right, then?"

"She's fine now," said Harry, "though when we were all in the infirmary I wasn't so sure."

"Hang on," said Lupin with confusion. "I thought it was Malfoy who'd had the injury…"

"It was…and he would've straight died if it hadn't been for Hermione. That's what I wanted to talk to you about; among other things."

Lupin gestured for him to continue, and Harry related the whole of the story to him, making sure to give him every detail of the healing Hermione had performed. After finishing with it, he went on to tell him of the strange lighting that had gone on in his and Hermione's common room when they, along with Ron had gone back over the 'prophesy' Trelawny had spoken. When he was done, Lupin stood staring at him for some time before speaking.

"Well…Hermione is a special witch then, isn't she?" he began slowly, choosing to take one subject at a time. "That is quite an uncommon gift Harry. I have to say I've never heard of a healer able to heal with just a simple touch. Most, even the best ones have to use their wands."

Harry nodded. "She almost seemed as if she was willing Malfoy to heal. She was in some sort of trance and a purplish light glowed from her hand and travelled all through his body. When he woke up, the only injuries he had left were the broken bones."

Lupin thought hard on this for a moment and then spoke again. "Do you remember what she was saying?"

"A lot of things," said Harry, shifting his weight once again. "She kept telling him to breathe, telling the bleeding to stop, telling it to disappear…"

"Did she ever once mention the broken bones?" asked Lupin.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Breathing seemed to be the foremost thing on the agenda at the time."

Lupin replied drolly, matching Harry's sarcasm. "I'm sure. What I'm getting at is, only the things she thought on healed. Only the ones she was willing so hard to cure, actually cured. You understand?"

"You're saying she actually did will him better?" asked Harry incredulously. "That Hermione has some sort of extraordinary healing power?"

"I'm saying it certainly wasn't some random event, Harry," said Lupin. "Think about it. She willed the bleeding to stop; willed the lungs to heal; willed him to breathe, and all of it happened. Of course she didn't mention the bones because she was thinking so intently on what was most pressing at the time. And they weren't healed, were they?"

He paused to let his words sink in. "I think it's safe to assume Hermione has a very special gift, Harry."

Harry thought for a few moments before speaking. "Maybe you're right."

Lupin spoke up again. "What colour did you say the light was coming from her hand?"

Harry lowered his eyebrows. "Purple. But what does that have to do with…"

"And I'm sure you've seen her perform magic countless times with her wand, haven't you?"

" 'Course I have."

"And you recall the colours that came from it?"

Harry paused and his eyes widened. "Purple. It's always been purple."

Lupin nodded. "As wizards, our magic comes from inside of us and through our wands, not the other way round, Harry. Our wands enable us to perform focused magic. After all, what good is unfocused magic? Not very useful. Most wizards and witches need their wands.

However, every now and then, though very rarely, there are those born with power enough to focus their magic without the need of a wand, as you are proving to be. As for Hermione, you mentioned even Pomfrey with her wand, couldn't heal the damage done to Draco's lungs. I reckon only time will tell whether Hermione is able to use unfocused magic for everything, or just healing. After all, some witches and wizards are just more adept at certain things. This may be the case with her."

Harry was taken aback, and then realised something important. "You know, Ron seems to be growing more powerful as well, at least where defensive spells are concerned."

"I've noticed," replied Lupin thoughtfully. "And his wands colour…"

"Green," said Harry at once. But then the truth of it struck him like a lightning bolt. His voice wavered with shock. "Mine has always been blue except for the first time I got my wand from Mr. Ollivander. Then it shot out red and gold…"

"Perhaps it could simply recognise the heir of Gryffindor, strange as that seems," said Lupin. "If I recall correctly, my wand did the same thing when I first got it, and only that one time. After that it's always been blue."

"Blue, purple and green," said Harry loudly, his heart beating wildly. "Those were the same colours that flew around the common room last night. When they came together they formed gold and then disappeared. Merlin's beard…there was a reason for it. What it was, I'm not sure, but I've a feeling we'll be finding out."

Lupin, full of the same kind of excitement on hearing Harry's words, nodded. "I imagine you will." He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully and swallowed hard, knowing they were to be painful.

"Harry, your mother and I always knew you were special. However, it was only the night…the night your mother and Remus died that I finally realised just how much; and it wasn't just because you'd survived.

That night, Dumbledore told me of the prediction Trelawny had made. He told me that…that either you or he would eventually die. 'For none shall live while the other survives'… Harry, I'd just lost your mother. And while I didn't think in that moment that it was possible to want to die even more, I knew then that I had to give you up. We'd already known that Voldemort would be after you simply because of the Gryffindor-Slytherin bloodlines. But now, there was even more reason for him to want to kill you. The only way to keep you safe was to give up my rights to you…to hide you for as long as possible."

Harry felt himself tensing; felt the familiar resentment and anger building inside. He hadn't been sure until that moment that he'd wanted to bring this particular subject up today, but his father had just taken the matter into his own hands.

"I guess you found that easy enough, didn't you?" The voice that came out was cold, distant, and utterly unfamiliar to Harry's own ears.

Lupin's gaze shot up at once, a look of pure disbelief on his face. "Harry…giving you up nearly killed me. You can't imagine what life has been like without you…without my son…"

"And you can't imagine what my life has been like!" yelled Harry at once. All the anger, all of the bitterness and abuse and misuse of his entire life seemed to be simmering dangerously just below the surface. It had risen up in him so fast that Harry's own reaction almost startled him. He began to pace furiously.

"I reckon it was easier for you to just hand me over…to be able to rid yourself of whatever reminded you of her, was that it!? Or was it the fact that you had a baby to raise on your own now? Was I just more than you wanted to take on at that point!?"

"No Harry! Never! I…"

"Or, maybe you haven't thought on the fact that had it not been for your actions that night, neither she nor Remus Lupin might be dead today? Has it occurred to you, dad," spat out Harry sarcastically, "to wonder how your decision to leave me with the Dursley's for the past sixteen years has gone over? Do you know what MY life has been like without YOU?"

James swallowed, doing his best to take his son's anger toward him in stride. He was wholly entitled to it, and yet, Voldemort had stolen both of their lives that night, not just Harry's. "I know you haven't had it easy with them, Harry. Please believe me when I say that Dumbledore and I thought we were doing what was best for you, and only you, at the time. I didn't know Vernon and Petunia would treat you so badly…"

"And the way they've always felt about magic gave you absolutely no indicator, was that it!?" Harry yelled venomously.

"Harry, Petunia is a squib," said Lupin. He missed seeing Harry's eyebrows disappear into his hairline at the revelation as he continued. "I never knew Vernon that well, but back when I knew Petunia, she seemed to love Lily very much. I knew she always resented her somewhat for her skills, but I never imagined in a million years that coming from the same family, one who owned the same skills, that she would treat you badly, or allow Vernon to do so…"

"AUNT PETUNIA!?" exclaimed Harry. "A SQUIB!?" It would certainly explain quite a bit of the resentment she seemed to hold toward his mother. He'd always thought that if Petunia really thought of magic as 'unnatural and freakish' as both she and Vernon put it, that there would be no reason for the look of utter jealously and bitterness on her face when she mentioned Lily. It probably didn't help his own case much either when Petunia saw how much magic Harry possessed. He could only imagine that Uncle Vernon knew nothing about Petunia's being a squib else he probably would've never married her. She'd probably allowed him to poison her mind even further against magical folk when they had married. It all made sense now. It took him a few moments to process the information before turning his rage back onto his father.

"Well," continued Harry, with the same biting sarcasm in his hard voice, "if you'd been around to check on me, even once, you might've known that my life with them was and is a living HELL. The only reason it's even bearable now is because I've finally gotten big enough to defend myself somewhat."

"Harry…I'm so sorry. I never knew…"

"Of course you never. I spent the first eleven years of my life living in a cupboard under their staircase, did you know that!? I only got to eat whatever was left over from dinner after they and the ORCA they call their 'son', finished cramming themselves full! Sometimes, when it was really bad, mind you, I got nothing but scraps of bread to eat for days on end! But that was all right, because at least when I was finally moved into Dudley's spare room, I got to amuse myself watching him play with his roomful of toys. At least I had my imagination, didn't I!? I could always imagine what it would be like to actually go outside and play rather than cleaning and cooking all day! I could imagine what it might be like to put on clothes that actually fit me rather than Dudley's mucky cast-offs. I could imagine what it might be like to go out and make friends or to even be normal for shitsake…hell, sometimes if the situation was just right, I was able to imagine what it might be like to have someone actually love me. You see, before Hermione, and Ron and the Weasleys, I had no clue. And now that I have, I don't know how I could ever think you felt that for me."

The last sentence, spoken with such a biting hurt tone, cut James to the bone. He swallowed down the massive lump that had risen to his throat at Harry's revelation of his life with the Dursley's. But he had to try to make him understand.

"Harry…you'll never know how much I hate myself for all the bad things that've happened to you. I hate myself for not being there for you. I even used to hate myself for not being able to stop the inevitable. But the truth is, if I hadn't been the one out that night seeking Peter Pettigrew, even I wouldn't be alive, as Dumbledore put it. I couldn't have stopped it anymore than I could stop a storm from coming.

Afterward, having to give you up, I felt I would rather die anyway, but Dumbledore finally helped me realise that someday, I would be able to see you again; that at least, you still had your father. To keep you would've been one of the most selfish things I could've done, Harry…not just for me but for the whole of the wizarding world. I wanted to with all of my heart, but you needed to be kept safe; someplace Voldemort would never think to look for you; someplace where you could at least partly grow up without the stigma of 'the boy who lived'. If you had stayed with me, or even in the wizarding world, it would've been like painting a target on your head. I know I wasn't there for you growing up…"

"No one was," said Harry raggedly.

"But you have to believe that what was done was done to keep you alive. It was the lesser of two evils, Harry. If I'd had a choice, even a small one, I would have never, ever given you up." Lupin swallowed hard again to keep himself under control. To let even one tear fall in Harry's presence was unthinkable. He had no right to it.

Harry's anger seemed to be dissipating with every word from his father, though he held onto it with all of his might. Sometimes, he just wanted to lash out, to be able to hurt someone as much as he had been hurt. He knew he sounded like a bad person, but he was only human. He wanted someone else to understand how isolated and unwanted he'd felt his whole life. He wanted someone else to swallow that type of pain and be able to look up and back at him with new eyes; ones that understood. He didn't realise that at that moment, his father could read all of this in his face.

"I want you to know something," Lupin began again, hoarse with the effort to keep the tears at bay. "I know you never felt love growing up, but gods, I swear to you, there never was a child more loved by his parents than you were by Lily and I. We wanted you, Harry. We tried and tried for you. Lily was so happy when she found out she was pregnant with you. She gave her life for you. I believe she would do it again in a second if given the chance. She knew what she was doing, Harry…and the night I gave you up, so did I."

James Potter stood before him a broken man, a man who's wife had given her life for her son, but in a way, had gotten the easier part of the deal. Because while she had peace, he had to live every day with the pain of it; and with the loneliness and agony that came with having to give up his only son. He'd been just as alone as Harry had been, and being a werewolf, he'd been equally ostracised as well. All this time, Harry had never considered that James might actually feel half of what he did, and yet, it turned out that he understood the whole of it.

Lupin held out his hands to him in an almost pleading gesture. "Please Harry. I know we've already missed too much time together, and I know that a relationship with each other won't come immediately. I know it'll take time. But if it takes until the day I'm on my death bed it'll be worth it to me. I do love you, son. I always have and I always will."

And with that, Harry simply crumbled.

Hermione made her way with Ron through the great double doors and into the bright sunlight of early afternoon. She'd only just been awakened by the sound of Ron's knocking on their portrait door, (which greatly disturbed Sir Cadogen so much so that he challenged Ron yet again to a duel) and when she opened her eyes, she realised that Harry wasn't there beside her. They'd determined that he'd gone to visit Hagrid as the three of them usually did on Sundays, but had been told that he had gone for a walk with his father. It only took them a few minutes to decide to try walking round the lake.

They began rounding a section of hill that wasn't littered with other students until Hermione let out a gasp and grabbed Ron's arm, pointing toward where a pair of men stood with their arms wrapped around each other. They moved back round the hill to avoid being seen, and Hermione wiped her eyes with trembling hands, though smiling as she continued to take peeks at Harry and Lupin. The two finally separated and continued talking, though Lupin kept his hand on Harry's shoulder the entire time.

Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

Harry knew that word travelled fast around the gossipy halls of Hogwarts, but he had no idea that moments upon re-entering the school after he and his father's talk, he would immediately be assaulted by Hermione and Ron.

Hermione, with tears running down her face, pounded down the hall, and flung herself onto him in a full body hug that nearly knocked him flat. Ron followed her, grinning wildly and hammering him on the back until it tingled with loss of feeling.

"Hrry 's so wunerfl! Yu'n fthr frgiving cn st anw rlaship…" Hermione's face was buried so fully in his shoulder that he could barely make her out.

He chuckled and shifted her weight in his arms with a grunt. "Learning to speak Gobbledygook? You've decided to work at Gringott's post-graduation, then…"

Hermione lifted a tear-stained face to him and gave him a punch in the shoulder before sliding from his grasp. "Don't be a prat. Ron and I went looking for you earlier. We saw you with your father…Harry, it's so wonderful."

"Yeah mate," said Ron, still grinning Cheshire-like. "Proud of you. I know what a great lot of nerve that took."

Harry felt the expression freeze on his face and glanced down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione frowned. "Love, what is it?"

When he spoke again he was quiet, as if not quite sure how to explain himself. "Look, what you saw out there…it was nice, I'll admit. It feels good to know I was… was loved, and I'm beginning to understand why he did what he did…But by no means does one conversation and a hug erase the past sixteen years. D'you understand?"

Ron blinked for a few moments, obviously not sure how to think, but Hermione seemed to comprehend him fully.

"Of course it doesn't," she put a hand to his face and smiled at him. "I don't think for a moment that everything's been instantly put right. Your father doesn't either, I'm sure. But Harry…it's a start. You have to begin somewhere…right?"

Harry was suddenly more than grateful for being given someone like Hermione; whatever deity it was that sent her. He brought up a hand to smooth her hair back from her face. "Right love. Your right."

Ron tried to put his thoughts right and in order. "So then you are a bit better with him…"

Harry winced, unsure himself why he felt uneasy, and nodded. "I'm trying. We both are, I think."

"That's all that can be asked, then," said Ron wisely. "Remember Harry, whatever he did, right or wrong, he did from love for you. It might not've turned out the way either of you wanted, but at least you have that."

Harry turned to follow Ron and Hermione outside into the bright day, but had no words with which to answer. As the three strolled in companionable silence round the grounds, Harry still felt the sting of bitterness tug his heart downward. It was strange; in his mind, he knew he'd heard the truth; knew what all of the right things were now to believe and think. But a lifetime of regret had built a wall against probably any answer he might've heard, he thought to himself, and he was having the damndest time making his heart follow his head.

Yet there was nothing for it but to try. What other choice was there?

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

The end of October brought an even cooler drop in temperature and a greyish tint to the sky over the Scottish grounds. All around Hogwarts the middle to end of autumn was evident; from the yellowish tint to the grass, already multicoloured from fallen leaves, to the half-bare trees, losing more and more of their painted coverings every day owing to the wind. The castle too seemed chillier than before. In-between classes, throngs of students were seen with woollen caps and scarves bearing their house colours, and the classrooms themselves now glowed with fires lit in the hearths.

Though the drab outside could have lent the school a gloomy feel, most inside were upbeat and even excited. The All Hallows Eve bash was to be held Friday night, October thirty-first, only two days away, and the halls around the school were already decorated with all sorts of Halloween paraphernalia. Glowing pumpkins were set outside every classroom door, orange and black streamers were hung magically here and there down the halls, and webs with magically enhanced spiders threaded out from corners, (causing Ron to turn three shades of pale). Even the resident ghosts were taking extra care to rattle chains and moan frightfully in every dark corridor.

Hoards of bats came magically from nowhere to swoop down on unsuspecting students, and Peeves followed every attack with a bag of mouldy raisins, tossing handfuls over students heads and screaming 'BAT DROPPINGS!' Only McGonnagol managed to stop him by threatening banishment from the castle, and vowed to find whomever it was supplying the poltergeist and make them eat a handful of the real thing.

Ginny tried her best to contain her excitement, Harry, Ron and Hermione noticed as they headed toward their last class of the day, but she was finding it rather difficult. Malfoy was finally out from the infirmary and had asked her to be his date, so practically all she could think on was what costumes might have a couples theme. She'd decided to confide in Hermione some two weeks ago (neither Lavender or Parvarti were good for anything but dumb giggles as were the girls from her own year) on what had happened with she and Draco when they'd left the infirmary, and as Ginny had guessed, Hermione was full of misgivings and advice.

But while she listened to her and nodded in all of the appropriate places, Ginny knew she was going to make up her own mind. Truth be told, Hermione knew as well, though she hoped at least some of her words would fix into Ginny's self-conscious enough to later pop suddenly into her mind.

She and Ginny hung back as Ron and Harry walked ahead of them toward the Advanced DADA class so that the latter could fill her in on the latest. Though Hermione could be a bit bossy, Ginny was grateful. She needed a female ear.

"So he did ask you, then?" asked Hermione.

"He tried first acting as if it were too childish a thing to attend," replied Ginny with a smirk. "He said rather drolly, and I quote: 'Well Red, you'll be going to the Boo Ball this year, I reckon.' "

"He called it a Boo Ball!?" huffed Hermione in annoyance.

"Oh that's just him making as if he's disinterested Hermione," said Ginny wisely, rolling her eyes. "You know it would take a right miracle for him to openly allow emotion."

Hermione squinched her face at the other girl. "And you find this… appealing…"

Ginny laughed. "It's not real. He's somewhat of a challenge, yes, but I know how to make him stop acting a prick."

"And how's that?" asked Hermione. "Hang on, better…what'd you say to him?"

Ginny cut her eyes at Hermione in a sadistic way. "I told him I'd already been asked by three other wizards, and I wouldn't mind going with one of them if he fancied the 'Boo Ball' beneath him."

Hermione stared at her for a moment and then grinned, which made Ginny finally break out into a peal of laughter. "Cheeky…quite the manipulator, aren't you?"

"And with whom did I grow up?" declared Ginny as if that righted the matter. "Always master manipulators, that Fred and George. Anyhow, it's not how I see it. It's rather more like…helping Draco come out from his shell of denial."

Hermione smiled again and shook her head at the younger girl. "So then he asked you."

"He paused a few moments for effect, probably to see whether I was bluffing. Then he said, and I quote again: 'Well, I'll need to go anyway, I suppose. Just to warrant the party won't be a complete pansy-arse affair. I'll pick you up at seven.' "

"Is that so…" Scoffed Hermione as she and Ginny entered Lupin's classroom and chose seats next to Ron and Harry. "And who are you two going as?"

Ginny blanched and felt her stomach fluttering. "That's the problem!" she whispered back as Lupin turned to address his students. "I don't know! He only asked me yesterday and before that I was thinking of going stag, you know; thought I'd meet someone there. Now I actually have a theme to think of!"

Hermione shook her head and held a hand up towards Ginny. "No worries. I have a book back at our common room that will help. We'll talk more after."

Ginny widened her eyes at Hermione. "A book?" She hissed with a panicky voice. "Hermione it isn't a class, it's a party! How could a book possibly help!?"

Hermione glanced at Ginny patiently and whispered under her breath. " 'The Costumed Couple: A Witch's Guide to Matching her Mate'. Got it from Madame Pince last week. Harry and I've already got ours picked. I'll show you how to transfigure them."

Ginny let out her breath and stared openly at her friend for a few moments. "You never cease to amaze me."

Hermione smiled proudly in return.

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

Hermione turned to peer at herself in the mirror and gasped as she saw how Ginny had transfigured her own costume into what she had described as 'less bookish Hermione, and more daring Hermione'. The sky blue dress was styled as if it were straight from the rich societies of the seventeen hundreds, full and flowing down to the floor. But the bodice was quite revealing, leaving little to the imagination, and the dress hugged the entire top of her body down to her slim hips like a glove. She wore silver hoop earrings, a small silver chain with a dagger pendant, and matching boots on her feet. Ginny had wanted to make her face up more than it was, but Hermione insisted that a swashbuckler's wench would probably not be heavily made up. She wore only mascara, a hint of blush, and a red tinted lip gloss. Her head of heavy curls was piled loosely on top, with ringlets falling here and there around her face. She did indeed look as if she'd been a wealthy passenger on a ship, just kidnapped by a pirating swashbuckler.

"Oh Ginny…I don't…my original dress was fine. Harry'll fall over when he claps his eyes on this! I think we've gone rather too far."

Ginny had come to Hermione's room to change with her, and Harry and Draco were slumped in the private common room, sitting as far apart as possible, ignoring each other magnificently, and looking for the world like they'd rather be anywhere else in the universe than in the same room alone together, in costumes. Both had already called for the girls to 'get a move on' at least a dozen times or more respectively, but the only response they had gotten was that 'beauty took time'. Time they had, thought Harry daring to glance Malfoy's way, patience was another thing entirely.

Ginny, who had been busy waving her wand over her own get-up, turned to look at Hermione and suddenly gave a squeal of delight. "Oh Hermione! No! It's brill! You look dead sexy. And I rather think once he sees you he'll stand up quite nicely…"

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione in her most scandalised voice.

"Oh don't be such a prude," laughed Ginny, smoothing out her Egyptian queen costume and adjusting her gold head-dress. "Besides, your costume is no more extreme than mine, I think."

Ginny was decked out in a long white toga, but had made sure to let it fall well within bounds of her cleavage, and had transfigured a revealing slit along the side. The costume was complete with golden bands around her upper arms, gold bangles around her wrists, a slim golden belt, and a golden amulet around her neck. The head-dress complimented her thick straight red hair, and a gold chain of different coloured jewels dangled across her forehead. She had thick black eyeliner swept across her upper lids and drawn outward to make her eyes appear more catlike, and had painted her lips a deep red.

Hermione turned to her and placed her hands on her hips. "You've just made my point."

Ginny waltzed over to her, placed her hand on the older girls waist, and turned her toward the mirror so she could fully take in her own form. "Look at you, Hermione. You look smashing! Besides, how often are we able to relax and just be free?

You've heard the phrase 'Carpe Diem', I'm sure."

Hermione frowned at herself and Ginny in the mirror. "And I'm sure they meant 'seize the day', not strangle it."

Ginny smiled patiently, and for once, seemed as if she were the wiser one giving advice. "They were referring to anytime one might step out from oneself for just a little while and run wild."

Hermione swallowed. "Wild?"

"We'll settle for less reserved," said Ginny with a smirk. "Now, we'd better get out there before Draco and Harry start a row. Neither of them seemed too eager to wait with the other."

Harry stood quickly as the creak of hinges behind him sounded. "Finally…" he muttered. Though after seeing Hermione stand shyly before him, and then gaze at him more boldly as she took in his own costume with an open mouth, he forgave her instantly.

Hermione thought she'd never seen Harry look more…well…dangerously sexy.

He wore a dark blue scarf round his head that almost met his eyebrows and knotted round the back. His longish hair curled out from under the bottom of it quite nicely. He'd decided to forego shaving the past couple of days to add to the effect, and she thought there was nothing she'd like better to do right then than to run her hands over those roughened cheeks. He'd charmed a gold hoop earring in his left earlobe, and wore a roughened skull pendant round his neck on a gold chain. His billowy white shirt hung open almost to his navel, showing a nice expanse of olive skin, a chiselled chest, and a line of fine black hair, (her favourite line of fine black hair). The dark blue pants, tucked into black boots, were held on by a dark red scarf tied round his middle. Godric Gryffindor's sword hung from his sash, magically lightened, and held in a roughened leather looking sheath.

When he smiled at her though, Hermione thought to herself that she was sure no mangy pirate of the old seas had ever had such straight white teeth with such a dangerously crooked grin.

"Wow 'Mione…you're, I mean you…loo…look like…just…WOW."

Hermione was sure she blushed five deep shades of crimson, as much for the inarticulate compliment as for the scandalous thoughts running through her mind.

She swallowed and shook her head, choosing not to reply. "We'd…better get there then, before we miss the whole thing."

Harry grabbed her round the waist and spun her to him, grinning madly and lowering his voice an octave. "I wouldn't mind."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed through gritted teeth as she motioned toward Ginny and Malfoy.

But neither of them had noticed. Ginny was too busy by-passing the besotted, lustful looks Draco was giving her, and taking in his costume. Neffertiti had met her Caesar.

Malfoy had chosen to forego the toga theme, and had instead donned the tight brown leather of a king just out from battle. He too had foregone shaving and had a nice smattering of rough blonde on his jaw. He'd charmed his hair short and spiky, which added to the rugged warrior theme. The studded leather vest was sleeveless, showing pale skin and Quidditch toned arms, with leather bicep-bands. The pants (good Godric) were equally as leather, and equally as tight, with brown worn boots on his feet and a sword at his side. Six golden studs ran up both of his ears, and a leather band was tied round his forehead. A more modern approach to Egyptian warrior clothing? Ginny looked down at the tight leather pants and couldn't bring herself to mind.

Hermione smiled at Harry as she saw the two gazing at each other and motioned him to follow her out from the common room. He looked uncomfortable at seeing Malfoy ogling Ginny, who was like his sister, but was given no choice but to follow Hermione out the portrait door.

"When he sees the two of them together like that, Ron'll go completely apeshit," said Harry with dread as he and Hermione walked down a hall transfigured to appear as a dark menacing forest covered in mist.

Despite knowing it was only a hoax, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm even tighter when an unknown animal growled through the night at her. "And he'll just have to deal with it, won't he?" Her voice was shaky with nerves.

A pair of gleaming red eyes suddenly appeared in front of them and Hermione screamed, almost jumping bodily into Harry's arms. But Harry waited it out, and then chuckled and set her back down again as the red faded from their view.

"A bit inconsiderate of them to use that particular scam, wasn't it?"

Hermione shuddered and didn't let go of Harry's arm. "Had to make them glowing red, didn't they? Like…like his."

"I'm sure it was Filch or one of the others," he replied. "Dumbledore would've known better. But not many've actually seen Voldemort, you know?"

Hermione stopped abruptly and looked up at him. "Harry…just for tonight, let's not mention his name. Let's pretend for just one night that all there is this party, and school and friends…and us."

Harry gazed at her for a moment and then smiled understandingly. "Ok, love. For tonight, the world is normal."

Draco and Ginny joined them some minutes later, though both could tell they'd done a bit of snogging first, and the four made it more or less together to the Great Hall, separating quickly once they'd opened the doors and stepped inside. The sight that greeted them was a surprising one, indeed.

The whole of the hall had been transfigured to look as if they had stepped into a giant dark forest with a large hollowed clearing, complete with tall twisted trees, thick underbrush, eerie white mist, and filtered moonlight, just as the hallway had been. The ceiling, always charmed to reflect the outside, showed a black sky, very few stars owing to the overcast of smoke grey clouds, and a pale waning moon, fuzzy round the edges.

There was already a roar of voices, laughter and music, and the huge 'clearing' in the midst of the forest held hundreds of costumed students, milling about, heading toward the overloaded snack tables, or moving toward one of the numbers of games that had been set up about the edge of the circle. A stage had been placed toward one edge as well, and Harry noticed that the surprise act for the evening was none other than Werewolf Wilmur. He was currently on the second verse of "I Wanna Fang You for Loving Me", his smash hit on the WWN right after "Howlo, my love".

Ron caught site of Harry and Hermione and grabbed Lavender's hand, beaming and weaving in-between the crowd to get to them. Harry stifled a laugh as he approached.

"There you are! Thought you'd decided to stay in and snog for the evening." He yelled over the din of noise.

Hermione noticed Lavender seemed a bit nervous and kept glancing around them to see if anyone was looking their way, but after spotting Ron, it was easy to guess why. He was dressed in very wide legged pants, cuffed to his ankles at the bottom and black slippers, curled at the toes. His silky vest was black as well and open to show a nice expanse of pale, freckled chest, and a black silk turban was wrapped around his head. Lavender wore an open pale purple vest with a modest pale purple bra underneath, the same colour bloomers covered in blooming gauzy pants, and the same type shoes. Her blonde hair was covered with a series of veils, with a transparent one covering her nose and mouth and a band of gold coins were strung across her forehead.

Ron grinned at them again. "So I suppose you two are pirate and wench then?"

"Swashbuckler," corrected Harry, his mouth contorted as he tried to stifle a laugh. Ron looked a bit, well…feminine in his costume. He was sure he didn't know. "And Hermione does make a fetching wench, doesn't she?"

He paused as Hermione shot him a mock-offended look and winked cheekily at her before returning his attention to Ron. "So…what exactly are you supposed to be?"

Suddenly Lavender dropped Ron's hand with a huff and turned poutily to him. "You see Ron! I told you we'd be asked that question all night!"

Ron widened his eyes at her as if she were being unreasonable. "No worries Lav!" He turned back to his friends with a smirk and addressed Harry. "It's obvious who we are dipshit. I'm a sheikh, and Lav here is my belly-dancing slave."

"I'm not a slave," Lavender retorted quickly.

"Ah," nodded Harry, grinning.

"Echoes of your name I hear, howling in the wind, just howling in the wind, OWOOOO! And I just wanna fang you for loooovin' me…"

The song rose in pitch, obviously a favourite part for Wilmur. Harry, Hermione and Lavender winced simultaneously.

"This is my favourite of his," said Ron as he turned from looking at the stage to beam at them once again. " 'Howlo my love' has more or less travelled to the bottom of my list thanks to Seamus."

"Can't imagine why," said Hermione drolly.

"Right," said Ron. "Well, time to get loose! See you two on the dance floor!"

He stuck out his tongue and made a dance move reminiscent of a wounded hippogriff stumbling toward its final resting place. Harry dissolved into snorts of laughter.

Lavender rolled her eyes at Ron but grinned and yanked him out onto the dance floor anyway.

Harry led Hermione to the dance floor and pulled her close, despite the song having a medium beat. "Well, maybe Dumbledore'll decide to switch on the WWN soon. Don't think I can lump Wilmur all night long."

"Let's hope," said Hermione with a crooked smile.

They'd finally gotten their wish, and had been on the dance floor for around an hour before Professor McGonnagol, dressed as Fredweina the Fierce in a long black dress of rags, a painted-on scowl, and carrying several fake daggers on a belt around her waist, came up on stage and announced that it was time for the contest, judged by the professors, on whose costume was the most inventive. Most hadn't even known there was to be a contest. There were well over three hundred students present as fifth year and up were invited to the bash, so when it came time for willing students to come up on stage to be seen by all, it was no wonder that a few costumes had slipped the attention of Professor Sinistra, who was to make certain that no one entered the Great Hall in costumes that were deemed 'inappropriate'.

Crabbe and Goyle, whose costumes almost rendered McGonnagol completely catatonic, were immediately ordered to get out and change into something suitably decent, or else. Coming to the bash as a couple of sumo wrestlers had truly been the wrong idea.

Ron mentioned to Harry as the two idiots ran out guffawing to one another, that if he was ever, EVER able to get the sight of their fat naked arsecheeks out of his mind it would be a bloody miracle. Harry was immensely thankful none of their bits and pieces had fallen out in the process. The comment won him a punch and scowl from Hermione.

Seamus Finnegan, Gryffindor's resident skirt-chaser, was swiftly frowned upon as he charged on stage as a 'lamp', with a round shade and a pull string over his head, and asked if there were any witches available to turn him on. One from the audience had just time enough to announce she'd rather 'pull the plug' before McGonnagol herself angrily chased him from the hall. There was an eruption of laughter with that one.

Neville Longbottom looked positively miserable in his giant carrot costume, followed onstage by a smiling Susan Bones, in a pair of long bunny ears, a modest white one piece swimsuit, a fluffy tail, and charmed oversized front teeth. They received a few votes. Harry was sure that particular embarrassment had been Susan's idea.

Dean Thomas won quite a few votes as he toddled onstage in a giant white box, labelled 'Toasty O's' with fake blood smears, knives, and guns attached and announced that he was a 'Cereal Killer'. Dumbledore, dressed as Merlin, found that one quite amusing and clapped the hardest among the audience.

Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were promptly removed after showing up as a pimp and his hooker, and Millicent Bullstrode received quite a few boos and retching noises when she sauntered onstage as a French maid in a tiny lacy black dress, a white apron, fishnet stockings and high-heeled mary janes. Ron decided right then and there to poke out his mind's eye.

To top these off, a particularly randy Ravenclaw boy walked onstage with a cigarette in his mouth, messy hair, and condom wrappers stuck to his terry cloth robe, and announced that he was 'The Morning After', and would anyone care to experience the night before? Following these, McGonnagol somehow found a way to pale even more than she'd already done.

Cho Chang received a few votes as Little Dead Riding Hood. A sixth year Gryffindor was chased from the hall after showing up in a hospital gown, gloves, stethoscope, magnifying glass round his head, chocolate pudding smeared down his gown, a 'Dr. Ben Dover' nametag, and the announcement that he was a 'proctologist'. When he began licking pudding from his gloves, a faint Hermione quickly found a seat.

The night saw a Formal Apology, complete with bowtie, a Split Personality, Lightning Victim, Green Olive and Pimento, White Trash, and even a Sand Witch. But the grand winners were two Hufflepuffs, one dressed as a gigantic salt shaker, and the other as a giant Duracell, stating that they were 'Assault and Battery'. Even Snape smiled with that one, and the award was given.

Harry felt eternally grateful once the Weird Sisters began to blare from enhanced speakers, and he and Hermione alternated between dancing near Ron and Lavender, (in which Harry and Ron tried to constantly outdo the other with really awful dance moves), and wandering round the edges of the floor in search of a game or two.

The Levitating Sherbet Ball Bob was near the same as the Muggle version of bobbing for apples, Hermione explained to Harry, who had never had the pleasure of either. They watched Casper Eustance, a Ravenclaw from the Advanced DADA class compete with a housemate on who could bob the fastest, though it was an unfair contest. Castor's Dracula teeth made it much too easy for him.

There was a table of potions (Snape had obviously done), in which the 'victim' was dared to drink a potion, and hope the results weren't permanent.

In one corner, a cluster of students were playing Pin the Wart on the Witch, Seamus, Dean and Neville were currently trying to best each other at Pumpkin Bowling, and a pumpkin pasty eating contest had already made one contestant vomit all over his Unemployed Clown costume. The sign round his neck, reading "Happy the Clown needs work…owl me. Will work for food" was currently covered in chunks.

There was a mock wizard duel going on at the other end of the hall, but Hermione chose to Fish the Witches Brew, where the contestant could reach their hand inside a cauldron and hope they fished out a candy from Honeydukes rather than Zonko's Joke Shop. But after the accidental ingestion of a few exploding bon-bons, she kept the sugar quills and gave the rest to a fifth year near them.

Harry decided later he wanted to do something a little less juvenile and convinced Hermione, Ron and Lavender to tromp round the Maze of Dread that had been conjured up outside near the Quidditch pitch. It took a lot of begging, but he and Ron were finally able to convince the girls to do it.

The four grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the briskly cool evening, though Harry could tell Hermione was shivering from much more than the cold. He wrapped an arm round her shoulders and gave her a squeeze as they crunched their way through dried leaves toward the pitch.

"Not scared are you, love? We're not even there yet."

Hermione shot him a look. "I'm not especially keen on mazes of dread, Harry."

"Neither am I," said Lavender with a shudder as she walked ahead of them with Ron.

"It's not a real one," said Ron in exasperation. "Besides, I want to see the kind of job Hagrid did on it. He was the one who set it up, you know."

"Hagrid!?" squealed Lavender, grabbing onto Ron's arm. "Swell! Can't wait to see what type of horrors he's put in there. Spiders on steroids, pools of grindylows, manticores, blast-ended skrewts…"

"He wouldn't put anything real in there," said Harry with a snort.

Hermione glanced warily at him and slowed a bit. "Harry, you know I love him but…well,…it is Hagrid we're talking about. He can be a bit…over-enthusiastic."

"Bugger!" exclaimed Ron, throwing up his hands and turning to walk backward for a moment as he addressed her. " 'Mione, could you just try being spontaneous, for once!? It'll be fine! Living on the edge can be fun every now and then, right Harry?"

"Er…" Harry scratched nervously behind his ear as he watched Hermione's eyes flash dangerously at Ron. It was a look he'd seen before.

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. "Fun, is it? Well Ron, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I've experienced 'the edge', as you put it, right along with you and Harry every bloody year we've been in Hogwarts! In fact, I believe I've been there, done that and brought back souvenirs!"

"Oh, do we have to mention any of that?" said Lavender feebly as she eyed the tall closely grown bushes they approached.

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's not what I mean 'Mione and you know it…"

They'd reached the opening of the large maze, which had been thankfully built as to least likely resemble the one from the Tri-Wizard Tournament in their fourth year, and Harry decided he'd better nip the conversation in the bud before it turned into a full blown row.

He held up his hands and put on his most disarming grin; the one that had charmed his way through many a situation. "All right, that's enough. Ron, you two are worse together than you and Ginny." Ron huffed in irritation and Harry turned to Hermione. "We don't have to go in, love. I just thought it would be fun…but I understand if you're too frightened of what might be in there…"

Hermione scowled instantly. "Frightened!? Who's Frightened!?" She turned to stare accusatorily at both Harry and Ron. "Do you know what I…haven't I been with…I've seen just as much as…aarrgghh!"

She growled in exasperation and blazed past Harry, Ron and an open-mouthed Lavender to stomp through the opening and down the dark trail. They heard distinct mumblings of "…the nerve…just as much as they've done…wouldn't have made it half as far without me…"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and made to follow her, but not before grinning covertly at Ron and giving him a cocky wink.

Ron sniggered and punched him in the arm. "Always could get to her…cheeky bastard."

Harry chuckled and made his way down the darkened maze where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him not too far down the way. Ron and Lavender followed a few minutes later.

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

After many heart-stopping run-ins with creatures such as a fully grown Chimaera, (a monster with a lion's head, goat's body and dragon's tail), a Demiguise, which kept turning invisible and brushing against a terrified Hermione, a herd of particularly nasty Fire Crabs (tortoise-like creatures that shot flames from their arses), swarming Glumbumbles, annoying Imps that kept trying to pull at Lavender's scarves, and a bunch of Nifflers, which Ron begged to follow as he was sure they'd lead him to treasure, the four finally made their ways out from the maze. Ron was sure by that time Lavender had coined the phrase "NEVER AGAIN".

They'd heard others decide to try the maze after them, and saw once they'd come out that a large number of students had made their ways out to the grounds. Curfew for this night was to be ten o'clock, but several professors had followed the queue of students outside to watch over them owing to the events of recent months. No one seemed to be complaining.

The four decided to split up at that point, especially since Ron had just caught site of Ginny and Draco headed in the opposite direction of the maze and was sure they were headed somewhere to snog. As he stormed off, Hermione pleaded with Lavender to try and pound some reason into him, and she hurried off after him.

When they'd gone, Hermione smiled wickedly at Harry and grabbed his hand, leading him round the lake until they'd reached a secluded area. She pulled him close and smiled impishly up at him as he winked at her.

"I know what you did…"

Harry feigned shock. "Me?"

"Of course you, you nit. You made me tromp through that horrible maze."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "I never made you. Can I help it you can't back from a challenge? Besides…" he grinned wickedly, "I thought we might do a bit of snogging in there. Never can be sure how long it'll be getting through one of those."

"Only it was too terrifying for that, wasn't it!?" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry wisely decided to take a different tack. "You really do look smashing tonight," he said, grabbing her tightly again round the waist.

Hermione gave him a suspicious look. "Are you trying to charm me with your pirate mojo? It won't work, you know. I'll never fall for it. You've kidnapped me and taken me from my family and riches, you great dirty mercenary."

Harry grinned and then stepped back from her, affecting an angry air. "For the last time, I'm a swashbuckler, wench! And you'll do as I say or I'll have no choice but to punish you!"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest dramatically and raised her chin. "Do your worst. I'll never give in."

"Oh won't you…" said Harry stepping closer.

"Never."

"Not a bit…"

"Not even an…in..inch…" stuttered Hermione as Harry stood inches from her face and placed his hands on his hips. He stared at her for a few moments, fixing her with a crystal green gaze until a dangerous smirk crept onto his face. Hermione felt her knees giving.

"Brave girl…" he whispered as his eyes bored into hers. "Ready to be punished?" He watched a shiver make its way slowly down her body and fought the staggering impulse to grab her and take her to the ground.

Her heart began pounding out a rapid rhythm of desire, and a thrill shot from the middle of her chest straight downward. Calm, sure, confident Hermione Granger felt herself beginning to tremble under his clear gaze. Damnhimdamnhimdamnhim… But she was determined not to let him have the victory so easily this night…

She widened her eyes seductively and leaned even closer to him, making sure to brush against him in just the right way. "Depends on what you had in mind."

And Harry's mouth went dry.

"Wh…well I…"

"I'm young," said Hermione, now revelling in the gobsmacked look on Harry's face. "I'm sure I can withstand a lot. You'll find I have high tolerance for torture…"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione!"

She moved to press against him, and Harry balled his hands into tight fists, willing himself to keep control, just keep control…

"I won't give in…" breathed Hermione on tiptoes, lips close enough to brush lightly against the hollow of his throat. She felt a hard swallow travel its way down his neck and smiled against it. Who's in control now… "You'll have to keep finding new ways to discipline me…better start thinking…" She placed a finger on the hollow she'd just kissed and let it run down the open length of his shirt, down the soft black trail of hair that stopped at his navel…

The scent and sight of her shut out everything else in the world, and Harry finally reached his breaking point. He brought his hands up to fist in her hair and pulled her head back to look at her. The look of hungry desire on his face almost shocked her. He'd never looked quite so…carnivorous before. Without any more words he tilted his head and brought his lips down to hers. He began tasting her…slowly, but with such an intensity that it felt like she'd just been set on fire. She felt her knees buckle. His must have gone from under him as well, because he grabbed her and brought her to the ground with him, not caring about either of their costumes, and certainly not thinking of the fact that they might get caught. Curfew went out the window as well.

Hermione laced her fingers around the back of his neck and felt the soft fine hairs beneath the waves on his nape. She couldn't help it. She'd always loved his hair, so soft and dark and with the constant messy look, as if he'd just gotten off a wild ride on his broom. She knew he wished he could tame it, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Truth be told, she found it sexy as hell.

Harry ran his hands down her bare arms, down her barely exposed thigh, and back up toward her waist again. It seemed he couldn't get enough of touching her, tasting her, smelling her…hell, all five senses were buzzing with an electric current…one name fluttered in his head like a hundred snitches and pounded in his heart like a bludger. HermioneHermioneHermione… Her hair had come down, and Harry grabbed a handful of it, bringing it to his face as she kissed his neck, her fingernails down his back making him shiver. Long, soft, golden chestnut curls, berry scented shampoo (damn her)… soft olive skin, flawless… gorgeous bay eyes, doe eyes… a sloped feminine nose, turned up a bit on the tip (he kissed it), full pink lips, a hint of that brown colouring along the edges…gods, she was perfection, and better, she was Hermione. Hermione Granger… HIS Hermione… Hermione Potter… Hermione Anne Potter…

"Hermione Potter," whispered Hermione in Harry's ear. He leaned up to gaze at her. Had he said it out loud?

He started to say something, but the words left him, and he merely leaned up on an elbow, placed a hand under her head like a pillow and grinned down at her.

She smiled up at him and pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. His headscarf had come off during the rolling and grabbing, and one piece stood straight up towards the back. She forced herself not to grab him and snog him lifeless again.

"Did I…out loud?" began Harry quietly.

"No," she said with a broad smile. "Not out loud. But I know you were thinking the same thing. It has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?"

Harry sighed; a happy, idiotic crazy-in-love sigh only Hermione was allowed to hear. "The best."

"Someday…" she smiled up at him.

He leaned down to place another kiss on the tip of her nose and saw she was nearly spilling out from the top of her dress. "Not soon enough for me," he said randily.

Hermione followed his gaze down and flushed a deep crimson. "Harry James Potter!" She sat up shoving him off of her and pulled up on the bodice of her dress. "You sodding perve! How dare you…"

Harry laughed and rolled over to stand and offer her a hand-up. "I never saw anything."

"…And me without a single peek at you," she finished with a mischievous raise of her eyebrow.

Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

As November came and neared its end, bringing a wintry chill to the air and the first hint of snow lightly frosting the ground, Harry was surprised at how calmly his days had been passing. There hadn't been a single threat from Voldemort in almost two months now, and owing to the fact that the Dementors had defected and the dark lord now had around fifteen Death Eaters with him, the lack of bad news was confounding to say the least.

Hermione had both Harry and Ron working harder than ever on their N.E.W.T.s, and since she was the organisational sort, she'd stayed up late one night devising a strict study schedule for them to go by. She'd even made up flash cards for each of their classes, and spent many an hour going meticulously through each one until she was sure the material had been memorised through and through. Ron called these the 'groaning hours', and Harry usually spent the better part of the first one keeping the two of them from another row, though he rather felt like Ron.

The one thing he missed since becoming the busiest he'd ever been, was the few times he was able to grab his broom (the fact that it was a Flametorch was a plus) head outside, and take to the skies before anyone could catch him. He craved these minutes of alone time, where he was able to gather his thoughts and find fresh perspective on the amazing amount of pressures and worries constantly pounding in his head. It seemed the higher he flew, the more in sync with his own body he became, and he was able to sort out those things he couldn't when surrounded by the circumstance. His father was one issue he was sure he'd never quite know how to deal with. He wanted to be able to connect with him; to be able to have the kind of father/son relationship he'd always so desperately needed. But on the deepest level, he knew the kind of relationship he'd craved all of his life was just simply not going to be. It had been too long; the chasm between them had grown much too wide and deep.

What he had craved was unconditional love; the full trust and knowledge that one's parent always knew best, and that they were always right; always the ones to turn to in times of need or trouble. But those were things learned early on, things not taught, just simply known and accepted in the normal growth of a parent/child relationship; one that had deepened with experience and years; one with plenty of time to nourish it; one that hadn't been broken. He hoped that he and his father would ultimately learn to trust and love each other, but he was a man now, and had grown up alone. He knew who he was and what he believed through himself, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and the Weasleys. And where did that leave James? He wasn't sure. There would always be a rift there; a day when some remark would leave Harry wondering who James thought he was to give him advice. Some time when he might come to resent James wanting to be fatherly to him, and even the simple knowledge, as he thought on now, that his own father really didn't even know who he was. It was these thoughts that made Harry know that no matter how long he and his father worked on their relationship, some things were constant.

Whoever it was that said "time heals all wounds" had left the phrase a little unfinished. Time did heal all wounds, but a scar always remained.

Despite the chaos of N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, homework, Head Boy duties, and extra classes, Harry still found time to spend each night with Hermione. When all duties were done, they were able to retreat into their little corner of the castle, slam the portrait door on the rest of the world, and just breathe in each other. For Harry, it was his one saving grace, and he could honestly say he would rather be with her than breezing through the clouds. While being on his broom high above every circumstance gave him a chance to think clearly, the sky couldn't talk back, could it? Hermione helped him sort it all out, organise it, put it into perspective, and stack it up neatly for later pondering. After all, she knew him as well as he knew himself.

And when all the talk was done, it was wonderful to be with someone with whom you were comfortable even in silence. A home to come to, finally. To just simply put his arms round her and hold her close, slumped on the soft couch, in a dark room lit only by dim orange flames…to him, this was a glimpse of heaven.

Peace…such an underrated thing.

He'd had more talks with his father; each one a little less surface and a little more at ease. They were slipping into a rhythm of being, a nod and smile here, a conversation there, invitations to meet with one another for a butterbeer and catch up, no pushing to open up; one could open up if they wished. James had filled Harry in on a lot of the missed events of his own life, which consisted most of hiding out under assumed names and taking odd jobs. He'd helped Harry to see his mother through his fathers eyes; helped him to know the kind of witch she was. Though, he told Harry, the easiest way to know his mother was to know Hermione, as their personalities were so much alike.

The Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were going better than even Lupin had expected. Each student continued to improve daily, and as was habit for him, Lupin paid special attention in his own mind, on how his son and his two friends were coming along. Ron had become so adept at defensive spells that when it became time to break into pairs to practice, no one seemed to want to pair with him voluntarily. Harry was wonderful at defence himself, but his strongest suit seemed to be attack. He had become so proficient at it, that he was hardly put on defence himself at all, including his classes with the sword. He was now able to perform wandless magic almost exclusively, even at times he seemed not to be concentrating especially hard on it.

And Hermione; her skills seemed to be the most unusual of them all, due to the fact that they had been so unexpected. She'd been working with Pomfrey on almost every case that came into the infirmary since the incident with Malfoy, and she was now able to perform healing magic on almost every ailment, though still using her wand, with either a dramatic improvement or complete recovery. She'd wowed Poppy even more at times when she seemed especially emotional about a particular injury, as it seemed then her wand was hardly needed. Pomfrey assured her that even the most expert of healers required the use of their wands at all times. She was so awed by the power for healing Hermione seemed to possess that she'd already sent in a recommendation that she be tested at graduation level at University of Sorcery, subject: "The Healing Arts". If she passed, Hermione would be assured a job at St. Mungo's as soon as she left Hogwarts.

However, as Harry had only half sarcastically put it to Hermione and Ron one night, since Voldemort had decided to pause on rearing his ugly head for a while, something else had to happen to take his place, didn't it? What would the life of the 'terrific trio' be without drama? He was right as he would soon find out.

Ron and he still attended their classes on Divination with Trelawny without fail, and were bent on paying attention to her for once, since the prophecy she had made several months prior seemed to be unfolding before their eyes. So it was, this particular Thursday afternoon, the twentieth of November, that Harry and Ron, and later Hermione as well, received another disturbance to add to their already toppling pile.

The class went by as usual, with a curiously nervous Trelawny looking more owlish that ever behind her enormous magnifying spectacles. As ever, the classroom was overly perfumed and warm, even though the temperature outside had dropped considerably, and the red scarves she kept over the few lamps lent it a sickly pastel colour. Round tables, set here and there were surrounded by students, the majority of whom were trying their best to stay awake. Every now and then as she spoke, Trelawny would walk between the tables and rap students with heavy eyes and nodding chins on the top of the head with her wand. She seemed oddly rigid and tense, but kept her voice as steady as possible as she droned on about the art of psychometry, in which a wizard or witch talented in feeling the "emanation" certain objects gave off, or more commonly known as "scrying", could get senses or emotions on the history and use of the object.

"For instance," continued Trelawny, turning her head very quickly to glance at Potter and sighing tremulously(it was so quick that few noticed save he and Ron), "some of the gifted are able to hold certain medicines in their hands, and feel the symptoms of the last wizard to have used it. Yet again, some are able to get a sense of the 'history' if you will, of an object; any one, be it an old wand, a cloak, a key, or even a bottle. All objects give off an emanation, an aura…"

"Wonder if she can tell how this was last used," whispered Ron indifferently, flipping a bird under his desk.

Harry swiped a hand down his face and slumped even further in his seat, doing his very best to pay attention. So far the class had been the usual rot. It was only when Trelawny seemed to go mental that she ever spoke anything of consequence anyway. Though these days he wasn't sure he'd know the difference when it came.

Parvarti, whom Lavender insisted on sitting with since she knew how Ron felt about the class, suddenly spoke up. "Oh professor, I feel sometimes I have that gift. I'm sure of it!"

Half of the class groaned, but a murderous look from Trelawny shut the whole of them up.

"Go on, Ms. Patil."

"I've a bracelet a certain someone bought for me not too long ago," sniffed Parvarti quite proudly, as if she were the only girl to ever receive gifts from a boy. "Every time I wear it, which is often, I get the most peculiar feeling…as if, oh I dunno…as if the last owner was unethical…a leery sort."

Trelawny smiled proudly at her. "Well done, Ms. Patil. You may very well have a bit of the psychometrist in you. Are there other objects you seem to feel…"

"Hang on," called out Dean Thomas, sitting next to a suddenly pale Seamus Finnegan, "Let's see that bracelet…"

Parvarti whipped round to stare suspiciously at him. "What for?"

" Mr. Thomas, we've a lesson to finish," said Trelawny, annoyed.

Dean grinned. "Just hold it up a sec."

Parvarti looked at Dean as if he was a huge nuisance but shook her dark hair, rolled her eyes and held up her wrist haughtily for all to see anyway.

Seamus looked as if he were trying to disappear under the table, but a sniggering Dean suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him up, poking him hard in the ribs with his elbow.

"Finnegan! You dirty dog!"

"OW! Bloody hell, you sodding…"

"…That isn't the bracelet you gave to Mirabel Adkins last week!?"

Parvarti's jaw dropped and Seamus began to stutter. "W..well I…that is…"

Dean snorted heartily. "…and Bertrand Porter the week before, and Adelaide Thompson two weeks before that…HA HA!"

Dean slammed his head onto his desk howling, Ron began to perk up significantly, Parvarti began colouring and Seamus kept paling.

"No, you see…it's not how you think…" said Seamus desperately, watching Parvarti grow more and more furious.

"How dare you…" she hissed yanking the bracelet off and throwing it onto the floor. "Bertrand Porter!? And Thompson… that thick blonde Hufflepuff!?"

Lavender reached over to console her, patting her on the back and giving Finnegan a scathing look.

Dean raised his head from the table and swiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks, barely controlling his voice. "Y'might be a true psychometrist! Unethical and leery…that bracelet's gotten Seamus more arse this year than ever before…"

"DEAN THOMAS!" shouted Trelawny furiously.

"Have you gone barking mad!?" wheezed Seamus, gripping at Dean's robes.

Ron howled, slamming his fist onto the table and Harry laughed out loud. As the entire class followed, bursting into laughter, Harry thought this was the best class they'd had yet. Parvarti looked ready to commit murder.

Before Trelawny could speak another word, the bizarre clock on the wall suddenly switched Mars' path with Jupiter and announced in a rather trance-like voice that class was over.

Students began to scramble up and Trelawny placed a hand on either side of her head as if literally holding it together.

"Fourteen inches on Psychometry, the art and its uses by tomorrow!" she called out almost wearily as students began to leave.

The class seemed to sag as a whole at that, but roared with laughter once again as Seamus frantically blazed a path through them screaming "ONE SIDE! OUT OF MY WAY!" with a violent Parvarti hot on his trail, her wand out and ready to hex.

Before Harry and Ron could make their escape however, Trelawny called them back. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll need to speak with you."

Harry sighed and turned back round with Ron to re-enter the class.

"D'you suppose she saw me flip her?" whispered Ron anxiously.

"Doubt it," said Harry.

They approached Trelawny's desk where she slumped wearily wrapping her shawl round her shoulders and dropped their books onto a nearby table.

Trelawny glanced up at them impatiently. "Well, c'mon then. Pull up chairs, this might take a bit."

"Professor we have Advanced DADA," said Harry as they sat. "We'll be late…"

"I've cleared it with Professor Lupin for you two to be absent today. And as what I have to say may very well involve Ms. Granger as well I'll trust you two to fill her in once we're through."

Harry sat up quickly. "What about Hermione…"

"Not her directly, or either of you two for that matter," said Trelawny. Once again she affected her usual otherworldly voice.

"Last night, while I slumbered…I had a dream…rather a vision as we with the inner eye are sometimes wont to do," she sighed dramatically as if it were such a burden to be so gifted. Ron rolled his eyes as she continued. "I carried it to Dumbledore this morning, and he felt same as I, that it somehow might involve the three of you, quite possibly as my last prophesy did," she emphasised sternly.

Ron's jaw dropped and he sat up shocked, looking from Trelawny to Harry. "But how…mate you didn't tell…"

"Oh yes, I know about that one," said Trelawny quite importantly.

"But you seemed catatonic…quite unaware you'd said anything," said Harry, just as surprised as Ron seemed to be.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Parvarti and Lavender, then."

Trelawny nodded, eyeing them sternly as she did. "They told me of the prophecy I made. I would've never known if they hadn't. And it well benefits you they did, as it made me aware this vision may be somehow linked."

"Linked…" said Harry.

Trelawny sat up. "As in again pertaining to you and yours, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed a bit sceptically but thought to himself that it might well serve them to hear it anyhow. "All right, we’re listening."

Trelawny tensed theatrically, as if she were mentally preparing herself for recalling something extremely momentous and then spoke. "Well, 'vision' might be an inappropriate word for what I had, I suppose. I did see things, but they were only shapes; a triangle, a circle; though the circle was quartered, each part having been separated from the others, but clearly belonging to the whole. The rest was more a prophecy, of sorts, but one that I saw written in my head, as if the words were etched behind my eyelids. I could read them very clearly."

Harry and Ron nodded for her to continue, however still quite dubiously.

"It was quite foreboding," said Trelawny dreamily. "The words felt extremely urgent. I'll recall it as best I can, though I doubt I've forgotten any of it as I don't often receive 'messages' of this nature. Let me see…

'The strongest link shall lead the fight, from dawn of day to dark of night.

The second link, his closest friend, from start to finish shall defend.

The third link; the stablest one, shall heal until the fight is done.

Should the equal fail the fight, darkness shall fall and veil the light;

lest one whose worth is not yet known, should yield his life for his own.

Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one.

For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain.

All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand.' "

When she was done, Harry and Ron, both with gazes that revealed they weren't sure of anything anymore sat facing the Divination teacher with nothing to say. And for the first time they could remember, Trelawny dropped all signs of pretence.

She stared at the two for a time before speaking in the most sincere voice they'd ever heard her use.

"I know what you two think of my class. I know you think I'm a right old fraud…"

Harry swallowed. "Well…you see it's not…"

Ron glanced at Harry as if he needed reassurance he'd really just heard what he had. The look on Harry's face gave him no doubts.

"However, if I've ever been sure of anything in my whole life and career, I'm sure of this one thing…It was real what I experienced last night. Call it a dream or a vision, whatever you must… but dark times are ahead, darker than ever before…I feel it in my bones." She gave the two boys her most piercing gaze, but they would've felt the rightness of her words even without it. She continued gravely.

"For some reason, you three are directly involved. Mr. Potter, we've known of you ever since the night You-Know-Who gave you that scar, but as for Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, I think it safe to say that none of you met by chance."

Once again the two sat still, staring numbly at her until Harry finally spoke up quietly. "I think we agree on something, for once."

A few minutes later and Trelawny was left by herself in her warm pastel classroom, the only sounds coming from the pinkish flames crackling in the hearth. Yet she still hadn't moved from her place behind her desk. She felt useless for once, purposeless; surrounded by futile trinkets and crystals and portents that suddenly mattered not at all. Her gaze bored an uneasy hole into the desk before she spoke quietly to no one at all.

"It begins soon."

Chapter 24: "Oblivious Sirius"

Harry left Ron outside the Gryffindor common room and quickly headed towards Lupin's classroom to catch his final class of the day. He'd called a Quidditch practice for before dinner owing to the upcoming match with Ravenclaw, and since what had just happened with Trelawny had left him feeling tired not only in body but in spirit as well, he regretted it. But the match was Saturday, and since it was Thursday, they really needed the practice.

He reached the classroom slightly out of breath and saw Lupin already waiting for him with the room readied and sword in hand. Harry dropped his arms dully.

"Sorry. Got tied up with Trelawny after class."

Lupin tossed him Godric Gryffindor's sword and Harry caught it easily by the hilt, immediately comfortable with its familiar weight in his hand.

"No worries," replied James easily. "She told me she'd be needing you and Ron during our first class, but I am glad you've made it for this one. Ready?"

Harry ran a hand wearily down his face and back up through his hair, shaking his head slightly to try rattling all distracting, oppressive thoughts from his head. He hefted the sword up and fixed Lupin with his best centralised stare.

"All right."

Lupin stared at him for a moment. "Want to try attacking or defending first?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Think I'll attack; get rid of some nervous energy."

"And frustration, perhaps?" said Lupin perceptively, fixing him with a gaze.

Harry sighed. Apparently there would be no fooling anyone today. "Something like that."

Lupin readied himself and took his familiar stance. "Want to talk about it later? Might help."

Harry chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Need to talk on it with Hermione first…but later if you're free, say eight…"

"I'm free," said Lupin as quickly as he could without sounding too excited. "Make it nine though? Full moon out tonight. Snape's been busy since yesterday brewing me a wolfsbane potion."

Harry's lips curled ironically on one side. "That might explain his particularly shitty mood today."

James laughed heartily. "Yes he does love helping me out of a good jam, doesn't he? So Potions went swimmingly, I gather?" He ended sarcastically.

"He's been right pissed off all day," said Harry a little too cheerfully. "Even took twenty points from his own house. Malfoy went spare."

Lupin barked out a laugh, and Harry dropped his sword down, joining him. He then realised abruptly that this was the first time he and his father had laughed together. Funny the things you notice when you never had them to take for granted. He wouldn't know it, but Lupin had noticed too.

They sobered quickly; business to attend to. An hour passed, and the class ended with James flat on his back, his sword in Harry's other hand, and Harry standing over him with the tip of his own blade pressed near his jugular. Nearing the end, their swords a blur of activity with the clashing and clanging of blade against blade, Harry had given James sword a powerful upward arc, wrenching it suddenly from his grasp. In mid-air, Harry had summoned it wandless to his own hand, and had knocked Lupin to the floor.

Lupin, red in the face from exertion and with sweat gleaming on his face and arms, beamed up at his son.

"Brilliant Harry."

Harry, sweating and breathing just as hard, his cheeks blotched with red and his hair wildly in disarray, lifted the tip from his fathers neck and moved backward a bit. In his left hand, he flipped James sword up to catch it by the blade and handed it back to him, hilt first.

James took it and the hand Harry offered him, pulling himself up with a grunt. "Either I'm getting rather old and feeble or you're getting really good."

"Let's hope it's the latter," began Harry without really thinking, pulling up the bottom of his button down shirt to swipe his face with it, "We'll need you when all this comes to…a head…" he trailed off, realising he'd just voiced some of his own fears.

Lupin swiped at his own brow and brought his arm down slowly, gazing at his son. He paused for a moment. "Yes. We will, won't we…"

Harry stood awkwardly for a moment before glancing up at the clock above Lupin. "Oi…I'd better get going. Got to head to the pitch for practice and then shower and meet Hermione for dinner…" he trailed off once again.

Lupin spoke quietly. "It's not easy..is it son?"

Harry stood stock still for a moment. "No it's not. I'll be to your room at nine."

Lupin nodded and watched Harry walk out, thinking to himself that Harry was living proof of the old adage "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger".

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

Quidditch practice went swiftly enough, and Harry left the pitch, dirty and even sweatier than before, along with Ron; both feeling great about Gryffindor's chances against Ravenclaw.

As they walked at dusk back towards the castle, Quidditch robes billowing behind them in the chilly breeze, brooms thrown carelessly over their shoulders, and boots crunching through a new layer of snow, they discussed Trelawny's latest prediction.

"Well the three links are obvious," said Ron, watching his breath meet the cold and swirl out misty white. "Damn spooky the way she called out the three of us. It's not as if she's seen what's been going on with your bit of wandless magic, or my defensive spells or 'Mione's bizarre healing…"

Harry nodded his agreement. "Just some parts of her prediction I'm stumped on… Like the part 'lest one who's worth is not yet known gives his life for his own'. What in the hell does that mean? How can one give his life for his own life? And his worth not yet known? To who? Makes no sense."

"Dunno." Ron shook his head darkly as if trying to figure it out on his own.

"Don't strain yourself," said Harry snidely.

Ron growled and pulled a punch to Harry's ribs. But neither had the desire to laugh at that particular moment.

Harry sighed as he wrenched one of the huge double-doors to the castle open allowing he and Ron to step inside. "Well, once again we head toward our 'stablest link' for answers."

"I hope she has some to give," Ron smirked half-heartedly. "See you in the Hall."

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

Harry headed toward his and Hermione's quarters and entered to find her curled on the common room couch asleep; her hand still barely curled around a half-opened book threatening to drop to the floor at any moment.

Harry smiled and shook his head, leaning his Flametorch broom against a wall. "That's my girl."

He squatted beside the couch, content for the moment to watch the shadows from the fire dance across her face. He eased the book from her grasp and closed it, laying it on the floor before brushing a hand across her cheek.

" 'Mione… Wake up sleeping beauty…"

Hermione stirred and opened blurry eyes to see Harry's face before her. Without speaking a word, the first thing she did was curl a hand round his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When they parted, she blinked and took a good look at him. He was dressed in his full game uniform, scarlet robe, elbow and knee guards as well, his hair stood in twenty different directions, he'd shoved his glasses up onto his head, and dirt mingled with sweat smudged his face. He looked wonderful.

"You smell like sweat…and grass."

"Took a few tumbles catching the snitch," Harry grinned and stood, offering her his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure I don't half stink. Left class with dad sweating and sweated even more at practice."

Hermione's jaw dropped as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"Harry!"

Harry frowned. "What? I'm going straight away to shower, I promise…"

"No!" said Hermione smiling. "You…you just said…you just called Professor Lupin your dad."

Harry looked down for a moment and mentally ran through his last two sentences. When he hit on it he looked a bit shocked as well, and scratched at his head with a bit of embarrassment.

"Er…I..guess I did, didn't I?"

Hermione sniffed to try keeping back tears. "You did."

He stared at the floor for a few moments more, unsure what to say. It didn't mean anything…did it? Except maybe I'm getting more used to the idea…or more used to him… Bloody hell, there's too much else to think on at the moment…

"Well, I'll head to the shower and then we'll meet Ron in the Hall for dinner. We've got loads to tell you," said Harry, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. As he headed towards the bathroom, he threw his cloak over the back of the couch, tore off his boots, tossed his elbow and knee pads to the floor and ripped off his shirt, leaving him clad only in the tight corduroy trousers; his broad back gleaming with sweat. Hermione gawped at him.

"T..tell me?" she managed to choke out. In those pants his arse seemed to be a wonder unto itself. She cocked her head and watched it enter the bathroom. "All right…What about?"

"Trelawny's class today," said Harry, his voice echoing from the bathroom. "She said…well, she's had another premonition, of sorts." He shut the door.

Hermione's jaw dropped and she ran to the door, knocking rapidly. "Harry, she what!? Come out! You can't just tell me something like that and leave off!"

She heard Harry turn on the shower. " 'Mione, you, Ron and I will talk on it at dinner. We need to discuss it together."

"But Ron has class with you; he knows already! Let me in there so you can fill me in…"

Harry paused for a moment and then answered brazenly. "Don't tempt me."

Harry's arse…sans pants… Hermione did her best to sound indignant. "I meant we could talk with you behind the curtain, you prat."

Harry laughed at her. "I'll be out soon, love."

Hermione huffed in annoyance and walked away to sit rather heavily on the couch, playing mental games with herself to try thinking of anything but Harry's wet body at the moment.

After a brief shower, Harry and Hermione headed toward the crowded noisy Great Hall and found Ron sitting in their usual spot near the front. They took seats opposite him and Harry began filling his plate until Hermione put a restraining hand on both their arms. Ron reluctantly lowered his forkful of bacon and pease pudding.

"All right, I want information. Now."

"Mione, I'm flippin' starved here," grumbled Ron around his first mouthful. "I need nourishment."

"Talk while you eat…" said Hermione annoyed. "For once, I’m asking you to."

Harry glanced up to see Lavender headed their way and sighed. "Ron, I know Lav's your girl, but we really need to talk the three of us alone, tonight."

"No worries," said Ron with a grimace. "I'm sure she won't be sitting with me."

Sure enough, when Lavender got nearer them, she turned up her nose at Ron without giving him a second glance and continued past them to sit beside Parvarti.

Harry glanced down the table at her and then turned back to cock an eyebrow at Ron. "Trouble in paradise, Ronniekins?"

Hermione jabbed him disapprovingly with her elbow.

Ron scowled at him but then returned to looking slightly dejected. "She's upset with me that I laughed at Seamus in class today. Thinks it's an indication what 'sort of man I am'."

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly. "Man, is it?"

Ron scowled once again. "Her words Hermione, not mine. And yes… I'm of age now, aren't I?"

"I suppose so." Hermione glanced down and suppressed a small smile.

"Anyhow, it'll be a while before we're speaking again, I think; at least until Parvarti stops trying to jinx Seamus. So we've all the privacy we need."

"Good," said Hermione rather sternly. "Then let's get started, shall we? Before I start jinxing you two."

Harry held up a hand. "All right, all right. After Divination today, Trelawny called Ron and I back into the classroom for a while. Said she had something to discuss with us."

"Professor Lupin did say you and Ron had been excused from Advanced DADA today," said Hermione rather breathlessly. "Go on."

Harry took a quick bite of his food and continued. "Told us of another vision she'd had. While she slept last night she saw a bunch of words and some shapes."

Ron nodded and Hermione practically bounced in her seat for more information. "What sort of shapes?"

"Tr'angw…cucwe quuhted," said Ron around the huge mouthful of pudding he'd just stuffed in. "S'm fing w'v sheen…"

Hermione screwed up her face in disgust at him. "Ugh, Ron. Try again."

Ron swallowed with effort. "Sorry…she saw a triangle and a quartered circle. Same as us."

Hermione bit her lip and took a small bite of food as an afterthought. "Hmm, interesting. And the premonition?"

"Oi, look!" Ron brightened proudly, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his pants. "Took your advice and wrote it down before we forgot!"

He pulled out a small piece of parchment and read the whole of it to her.

Hermione listened intently with her mouth slightly open until he was through and then snatched the parchment from him.

"Well…" she breathed, her eyes carefully scanning the words. "She really does divine at times, it seems."

Harry nodded. "That's how we thought. Still, there're a few things we're shaky on; like quite a bit of the last part. The 'one whose worth is not yet known gives his life for his own' completely stumps me…And what the circle represents, I'm not sure."

Hermione thought for a moment and lowered her fork, most of her food completely untouched. "I have a suspicion…but before I'm certain I'll need to research something…"

She began to stand.

Harry lowered his fork as well. " 'Mione, we can at least finish eating…"

"You and Ron go ahead," said Hermione, once again lapsing into one-track-mindedness. "I want to look this up while it's fresh in my mind…You can meet me at our common room later."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "All right."

He watched her go, and a few moments later, Lavender finished as well and sauntered toward he and Ron, flipping her blonde hair haughtily.

"Well…so you two've managed to drive away another woman, have you? What sort of piggish things have you found to laugh at now?"

Harry gawped at her in amusement and Ron threw his head back with a groan. "Oh for the love of Merlin, Lav. Let it go, will you?"

Lavender instantly scowled. "I will not, Ronald Weasley! It's horrible how you, Dean, and you for that matter," she narrowed her eyes at Harry, "started the whole class laughing at poor Parvarti! She thought Seamus really fancied her…"

Ron stared at her. "He does! He just fancies a few others as well!"

Lavender suddenly looked incensed. "What!? So you reckon this is all right, do you!?"

"Of course!" answered Ron incredulously. Harry groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes for a moment. Ron…stop now…just stop now…

"Better he play the field for a while and find the right one than settle just yet! What if he finds someone more suitable!? It wouldn't be fair to Parvarti either!"

"And the bracelet?" seethed Lavender.

Ron looked as if he'd completely lost the plot. "Don't you like jewellery?"

Lavender stood rigidly for a moment, completely dumbfounded at Ron's idiocy and then hissed quietly. "Ronald Weasley…you great, dumb clot…I don't know what I ever saw in you!"

She stomped away angrily, leaving half the Gryffindor table, who'd been watching with great amusement, snickering as she left. Dean howled out loud. Only Parvarti seemed unamused. Ron glanced round at them all with a completely gobsmacked look on his face.

"Gods Ron…" Harry closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

Ron jaw hung open. "What'd I do!?"

Harry groaned.

"WHAT!?"

(A/N: Bama loves Clueless!Ron. ;0)

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

Harry and Ron finished their dinner in an awkward silence. It didn't help that half of Gryffindor table were still snickering and covertly discussing Ron's situation with Lavender. Harry spent the better part of the way back to his and Hermione's dorms trying to pound common sense into Ron's thick skull.

"…so since Seamus had given it to every other girl he'd wanted to make it with, it wasn't a gift at all, you see?" said Harry, putting a different perspective on a situation he'd already tried to explain to Ron more than three times so far.

"But he gave her jewellery mate," said Ron blatantly as if Harry was somewhat naive. "I mean he wouldn't have given her anything at all if she weren't something to him, right?"

They'd reached the portrait door, and Harry found himself wishing Sir Cadogen would ride up and hack him to death with his tiny sword. How in Merlin's name was Ron so utterly clueless?

Harry sighed deeply. "Ron…let's let Hermione try and explain it to you, all right? Dragon's lair." The portrait opened automatically owing to the absence of the tiny knight.

Ron followed him in muttering under his breath. "…nothing to bloody explain…got a good grasp on things, I think…"

Harry rolled his eyes, and at that moment, Hermione walked out from her room with her nose in a book, muttering to herself in much the same way. She nearly bumped headlong into Harry before she realised the two of them had entered. He caught her by the arms before she nose-dived into the floor. She looked suddenly flustered.

"Oh! You're back then, are you?"

Harry began to respond snarkily to her but she cut him off before he could. "Good. I've got loads to share with you two."

She and Harry took a seat next to Ron, who continued to look sulky at Harry's insinuation he needed help with members of the opposite sex. If she noticed anything untoward, Hermione ignored it magnificently.

"All right. So I went to Professor Dumbledore's office right on leaving here," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

Harry started at her. "Dumbledore's office? 'Mione, you didn't go to share anything with him, did you?"

This snapped her attention back to him. "If you'll remember Harry, Professor Dumbledore gave us his password to come talk to him anytime we wanted. We are Head boy and girl, after all. Personally I don't understand why you don't want to talk to him about any of this. He cares about you so much."

"Exactly why," said Harry with a sigh. Seeing Hermione's look, he finished quickly. "Not that I don't appreciate it mind you, it's just that I want to make decisions on my own if I can. I'm bloody seventeen Hermione. I don't need Dumbledore deciding to take any matters on my life into his own hands."

Ron finally spoke up. "And you don't think your dad is filling him in on everything you tell him…"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe so. But at least he's noticed it's not me doing it. If I need his help or advice, I'll ask for it. I think he knows that."

Hermione smiled. "Well if I know Professor Dumbledore at all, he's right glad your talking to your father about things. He'd much rather it be Lupin you're confiding in than himself, I'm sure."

Harry stiffened just a bit. The subject of him coming to his father for advice usually made him bristle, though he wasn't quite sure what it was about it that made him feel so. The only thing he could deduce was that he'd always had to take care of himself, and he couldn't imagine delegating that task to a man that had been absent his whole life, however out of the ordinary the circumstances were. True, he had shared some things with James, but to be truthful to himself, he would've felt more comfortable sharing them with Sirius. If it weren't for the bloody ministry watching every floo network like hawks, even the ones at Hogwarts, he would've done by now. But there was no way he was going to risk Sirius getting caught.

Hermione noticed his change in demeanour immediately. "Oh Harry, I’m sorry… I know how difficult it's been for you to share things with him. I didn't mean to…"

Harry put a hand to her face. "No, it's all right. No worries."

A short silence filled the room before Ron broke the awkwardness. "So what'd Dumbledore have to say?"

Hermione seized on the change of subject, and sensed Harry was grateful for it as well. "I didn't exactly go there to see him. He wasn't there anyway. I went to speak to the sorting hat."

Ron sat up quickly. "The sorting hat? As in have a conversation with it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes Ron. It can talk if you'll recall."

"Yeah but I didn't know it could actually carry on a discussion with you!" said Ron dumbfounded. "I thought all it was good for was sorting and coming up with a new song every year."

Hermione sighed deeply as if once again she found a friendship with two boys to be very taxing. "Once again Ron, I'd like to stress that if you'd ONLY READ Hogwarts: A History, you would never have to ask me such ridiculous questions again…"

"All right!" said Ron exasperated, holding up a hand. "Nevermind…it's not worth it! Just go on."

Harry grinned covertly at the two of them as she continued. "Well…what Trelawny said, about the quartered circle… I had an idea what it could mean but I wasn't certain until I asked the sorting hat to sing for me again the song it did in our fifth year."

"You actually remember that song?" asked Harry, impressed.

"I remembered it enough that it seemed to apply to this," said Hermione, holding up the scrap of parchment with Trelawny's prediction written in Ron's untidy, loopy scrawl. "However, I couldn't remember it entirely. I had the hat sing it for me again. Once it was through and I told it the part about the circle, it seemed to agree with me."

"It agreed with you!?" asked Ron incredulously. "As if the bloody thing's alive?"

Hermione sighed in aggravation. "Merlin Ron, what'd I just say…"

Harry groaned despite himself. "For the love of Quidditch just go on. Ron shut it, will you?"

Ron shot him a filthy look but allowed Hermione to continue.

"So the prediction states: 'Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one. For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain. All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand'." Quoted Hermione.

"Now, what can we think of that's been divided into fourths? Something that has sometimes brought about strife because of it?"

Harry and Ron thought for a few moments before Harry finally spoke.

"The only thing I can think that might pertain is the four houses in Hogwarts. We know in the beginning the four houses got along fine…and then some conflicts came about because of the division."

"Too right!" exclaimed Hermione breathlessly. "Which is why I wanted the sorting hat to sing over its song from fifth year. I did a recollection spell so we could hear it in its entirety again but I think I'll just forward to the relevant parts."

Ron seemed relieved and let out a sigh he hadn't meant Hermione to hear. She fixed him with an exasperated glare before deciding to ignore him. Holding her wand upright and turning it counter-clockwise twice, she then flicked the wand toward the wall above the mantle of the fireplace.

"Resonomelos Sorting Hat, fifth year!"

The bit of wall above the fireplace suddenly gave off a gentle purple radiance before words began etching themselves out in an ancient scrawl. An echoing melody began to filter through the dim room, and Harry and Ron leaned forward on their knees staring intently at the wall, at once recognising the old scratchy voice of the sorting hat. It hadn't come up with a new song since fifth year.

"In times of old when I was new and Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school thought never to be parted.

United by a common goal they had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school and pass along their learning…"

"All right, I'll forward to the parts we need especially to hear," said Hermione, raising her wand once more. She began this time to twirl it clock-wise, and the song sped up almost comically, the words a blur as they appeared astonishingly fast on the wall, and the voice becoming at once high-pitched and very fast paced. But while Harry and Ron might've normally found this funny, there was no humour in it for them this night, only a desire to pay close attention. The song began explaining to them certain parts of Trelawny's prophecy they had previously been unsure about.

Hermione lowered her wand and the song slowed to normal pace once more.

"…So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

For each house's name said, Harry held up one finger. Hermione paused the song as he turned to her and Ron holding up four.

"Hogwarts divided into four houses. A circle, separated into four parts. And what represents wholeness more than a circle? There's no angles to ford off sharply like with a square or rectangle. What other shape describes unity as well as it?"

Both Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione forwarded the song a bit again, slowing it until it came to another desirable part.

"…So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the Houses been united

As they once were meant to be…"

"Notice," said Hermione as she paused the song once again, "When Slytherin left the fighting died off. Maybe Salazar was the one making certain the school stayed in discord and divided."

"It seems he did his job well too," said Harry thoughtfully. "Even after he left, the damage had been done, hadn't it? The school never reunited as it was meant to, did it?"

Ron gave a low whistle of surprise. "I never knew the sorting hat would be so important…"

Hermione chose to leave the comment alone and continue the song where it left off.

"And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into Houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you....

Let the Sorting now begin."

"Know the perils, read the signs; the warning history shows. For our Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes," repeated Ron with wide eyes as the song ended. The direness of it all was beginning to hit him full force. Hermione 'scourgified' the song from the wall, and the room was plunged into silence and the dim orange glow from the fireplace once more.

"Voldemort could be the prediction's 'bane'," Ron spoke into the new silence of the room. "He always did want to purge the school, didn't he? He started to with Moaning Myrtle. That certainly could be a warning from history, couldn't it?"

"He especially wanted it 'cleansed' when it came to his own house," added Hermione quietly.

Ron suddenly sat bolt upright, his face draining of colour. "The purge of lines…Harry, now he knows you're a Slytherin too, there's nothing more he wants than to get rid of you and the other offshoot of Slytherins' line you represent. The one that should have never been, right mate?"

Harry looked stunned for a moment. "I never thought of it that way before, but if he got rid of me, the last heir of Aberdeen's affair, or the last he knows of, his 'line would be purged', wouldn't it? And…"

Hermione spoke up in almost a whisper. "The innocent slain…Voldemort also wants only pure-blooded wizards involved in our world. In fact, he only wants pure-bloods, I believe. The first thing he'd do when able was to rid the world of Muggles and half-bloods." She clasped her hands very tightly in her lap and shuddered despite herself.

Harry saw her gazing down in fear and took one of her hands, while his other came up to clasp her chin and force her eyes to his. His determined gaze burned into hers, and his eyes held a cold, deadly resolve. "He's never going to touch you, you hear me Hermione? I won't let him near you. I'll kill him first."

Something began to happen, something that had never happened before. Harry's whole body began to glow in much the same way Hermione's hand had when healing Malfoy's injuries. He seemed unaware at the moment it was happening, but his eyes burned with an almost neon green fire, and the whole of his body began emanating a luminescent sapphire blue. It shimmered and wavered around him like an enormous halo and burned brighter and brighter the longer his gaze locked with hers. Hermione felt a fluttering in her chest so concentrated that it was almost painful. She'd only once before seen that look on his face, one that might send even the fiercest of enemies scurrying for shelter. It was when he'd faced Voldemort in the Kavan Forest last year. But there hadn't been the eerie bright blue glow, and the palpable, metallic taste and smell that seemed to be hovering about him. Even without ever experiencing anything like it before, Hermione was sure of what it was. It was power. Great, unharnessed, pulsing, throbbing power, like a rogue lightning bolt from an electrical storm. She could almost feel the hairs on her body standing. Harry's gaze burned with a fire that almost scared her breathless.

"H..Harry," was all she could sputter out.

Ron for his part seemed frozen in place. He was staring at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "Mate…are you all right?"

The two voices seemed to bring Harry down, and the aura around him suddenly dissipated with an audible SNAP.

Harry lowered his brows at Ron and released Hermione's hand. "What? Why'd you ask? 'Course I am. I'm just not going to let Voldemort get to Hermione; or you mate…No matter what…whatever it takes…"

He'd finished the latter part of his sentence as if speaking only to himself, and Hermione suddenly felt a sharp bolt of fear stab at her chest. It would be just like Harry to recklessly sacrifice himself if he thought it would save her or Ron…

"What'd you mean by that!?" Her voice came out like a breath, and she instinctively gripped at his sleeve. "What'd you mean 'whatever it takes'!?" A pulsing panic began to tighten the walls of her chest and she felt the sudden urge to grab onto Harry like a vice and never let him go.

Even Ron seemed to have balked at Harry's last statement and spoke up roughly. "Don't say things like that mate. We're all in this together remember? Have done since the beginning. Don't you ever forget that."

Harry immediately lightened and shook his head. "I wasn't…I didn't mean to scare you two. I just…if he ever…ever tried to… Let's just concentrate on Trelawny's prediction, all right? One thing at a time."

Ron nodded, at once settling to the task at hand with Harry following, but Hermione merely watched the two talk for a moment, her focus solely on Harry. For some reason the sense of foreboding would not go away. If Harry had a fault that stuck out in her mind, it was that he was reckless when it came to his friends. And now more than ever, the threat that he might somehow be forced, in his own mind, to take certain burdens on himself to spare others, loomed before her like terror made physical and solid, a fear she could almost reach out and grab hold of. If she somehow lost him, Hermione was certain she would somehow live on, though hollow and empty. But the question had never been that. The question had been, if Harry was lost to her, would life be worth the living?

Her eyes traced his face, somehow boyish and manly all at the same time. His dark messy hair waved all over his head, and the absurdly long lashes were tipped with gold from the fire glow. She watched the dimple mar his left cheek as he smirked at something Ron said, watched his form as he leaned forward on his knees and snuck a glance at her, seeing her and waiting for a reassuring glance back. She gave him one, but though he saw it, he couldn't see the heartbreak that lay within. Voldemort's threat had somehow become more real for her in the span of only a few moments.

Oh Harry, could I live on if you didn't? Her body would remain, of that she was certain; but her heart and soul would forever be clutched in his hand.

Harry turned to smile grimly at her, and a physical pain stabbed her chest.

"Hermione? Come join us, will you? We need you on this too…"

As she moved over closer to them both, Hermione realised that the subject had changed to Parvarti and the bracelet. Thank Merlin for Ron, she thought with a small smile. Sometimes he brought about a much needed lightness and humour. But as she concentrated on helping him understand the female mind, (although she rather thought it was common sense) she was also supremely aware that a new heavier fear had saddled her heart.

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

Nine o'clock came round more suddenly than Harry had expected, and he, Hermione and Ron, after Hermione's overly simplified explanation of the bracelet fiasco, had still failed to figure out a few parts of the prophecy. But, he figured, there were some things one wouldn't figure out until they came to pass, weren't there?

He and Ron left Hermione still doggedly poring over books of prophecy in an attempt to find out more, and when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry left Ron as well, with Ron fervently promising that he now understood why Parvarti felt the way she did, and that he was going to make things right with Lavender straight away.

"That is if I don't screw it up by making another dumb-arse comment," said Ron frustratedly. "I just never know when one's coming."

Harry knew he'd meant he never knew when something he said was inappropriate, but he laughed at Ron's wording all the same, until Ron punched him hard in the arm. They tussled good-naturedly outside the common room for a few moments before he swore at himself for the time and ran to make it to Lupin's private quarters, leaving Ron with a matching bruise on his arm.

As he sauntered along with hands jammed into the pockets of his robes, Harry mused about the fact that he was still nervous, after four months or so of knowing James, to have one-on-one conversations with him. He hated the awkwardness of always being hyper-aware of every word his father said; looking for clues that weren't necessarily there, or hidden agenda's in his father's advice. He supposed it would be hard for him to ever fully trust him, and yet, here he was headed toward his room to talk things over with him. How he wished he could talk with Sirius as well…

Once there, Harry rapped lightly on the door. He heard a muffled 'come in' and entered the room, closing the door lightly behind him.

James was seated somewhat rigidly near the fireplace in his small room, with an extra plush chair next to him, obviously for Harry. His father smiled and motioned for Harry to join him, but before he did, Harry took a few moments to survey James' living quarters.

It was basically one large room, with half-partition walls separating the bathroom from small kitchen, to living area, to small bedroom. The living area consisted only of two plush golden coloured chairs, large shag-like deep red carpeting thrown over the stone floor, a couple of bookcases, and a polished wooden mantle over a large fireplace.

As Harry made his way toward James, he noticed loads of pictures on the mantle. To his surprise, his parents had mapped out every bit of his short life with them. A picture of a red, wrinkled new-born with a shock of black hair, in the midst of a silent fit of screaming stood in the middle, titled: Harry James Potter, 31 July 1980. In another, Harry was seated in a high-chair with a face full of cake that he had obviously smeared up into his hair. Lily, with James arm round her, was in the background having a hearty laugh at him. There was a "1" candle lit on top of the rest of the cake, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how long after this happy event Voldemort had attacked. More pictures stared at him from worn frames. Harry swinging in between his grinning parents hands, obviously in some park. Harry perched atop his father's shoulders, grabbing onto the shock of dark hair so much like his own for dear life. Lily holding baby Harry and grinning into his face as Harry laughed back. James with little Harry perched in front of him on a Shooting Star (must've been a top model broom then), his father grinning wildly and ruffling Harry's hair much like he used to do his own. Pictures of James and Lily themselves graced the mantle as well. Dancing pictures where they looked so in love, pictures of them at school, wedding pictures. There were even pictures of James along with the rest of the Marauders, grinning and acting like idiots, and Harry felt his mind swirling with the thought that he must now, in his own mind, switch the face of the James in the picture with Lupin.

Somehow, although Harry knew it shouldn't have, the sight of the pictures came as quite a shock to him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that it was just one more reminder of how unwanted he'd felt his whole life, and how wrong he'd been.

Harry finally turned to look at his father, who had been silent the entire time, and saw the ghost of a sad tight smile on his face. As Harry sat, Lupin tried to change the mood a bit.

"Well, it's not much compared to the Gryffindor common room, I'm sure," said Lupin with a small, nervous laugh. "But I assure you it's a palace compared to some of the other places I've lived."

Harry nodded, still not quite trusting himself to speak just yet, but Lupin spoke first anyway.

"Harry…I…thought…I thought it might well be time to invite someone else in on our conversations."

Harry frowned. Lupin sounded as if he were dreading something, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't deduce what it was.

"All right," he drawled out slowly, eyeing him. "Who?"

Lupin spoke after a beat of hesitation. "Sirius."

Harry instantly brightened and sat straight up. "You're wh…I mean really!? But what about the Ministry? Dumbledore's been pounding it in my head they're watching the floo networks here like hawks, especially now they know I've been in contact with him before…"

Lupin felt a twinge of jealousy run through him at Harry's obvious excitement and raised a hand to stop him. Harry fell silent. "I've worked it out with Dumbledore. The Ministry was certainly not able to bug every single floo network here. There're hundreds of hearths in Hogwarts set to it, and mine happens to be one of them. This room was vacant for years before Dumbledore gave me use of it so they had no need of watching over it. He's conveniently forgotten to inform the Ministry it's now being occupied."

Harry instantly felt a little more forgiving toward the Headmaster. "So have you been in contact with him this whole time!? Why haven't you let me know!? I've wanted to talk to him for ages…"

"Actually Harry, I haven't," said Lupin quietly. "I…I haven't been in contact with Sirius for some months now…almost four, to be exact."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his father until a look of stunned comprehension began to dawn on his face. "Don't tell me…don't you tell me Sirius doesn't know…"

Lupin sat very straight in his chair, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's. "He doesn't."

Harry felt as if he'd been punched. "How could he possibly not know!? You and he were best mates in school! If anyone would know the difference between Remus Lupin and James Potter it would be him!"

"You're absolutely right," said James, nodding along with his son's words. "And if he had found out, Harry…If Sirius were suddenly to find out his best friend was still alive, how do you think he'd react?"

Harry's reply was instant. "He'd have come after you! He'd have wanted to be with you, help you find Peter Pettigrew, fight your fights, help you with me… with.. Voldemort…" he trailed off, and understood.

"Yes…he would have," answered James slowly. "And that's why, every time he found out and confronted me with it, how much I spoke like James, how much my mannerisms copied James, I had to make him forget. For his own good I had to make him forget, to keep him out of sight and away from the Ministry's bloody watchful eyes."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You obliviated him."

Lupin nodded sadly. "It's been lonely without him. I can't tell you how many times I was tempted just to let him be. To let him find out I was still alive…but I couldn't put him in that type of danger. Knowing Padfoot, he never would've left my side after that. I couldn't do that to him…or to you. I wanted nothing to tip off the fact I was..am your father."

And the very next question that popped into Harry's thoughts was one he knew, even in the utter chaos and confusion of finding out who Lupin really was, he should've thought to ask long, long ago. Immediately Harry felt every muscle in his body knot with tension. If James had been alive this whole time…

"And what about the twelve years Sirius spent in Azkaban," Harry seethed dangerously, now perching as if ready to spring from his seat. "You've known all along it wasn't him that killed those Muggles that day in the street. That Peter Pettigrew survived that attack; that he did it himself…"

"Wait Harry, let me explain," said James immediately.

Harry's breathing was very shallow and he seemed on the point of violence, but he sat himself back in the chair, his piercing gaze never leaving his father's. "All right, I’m listening."

Lupin closed his eyes for a moment, painful memories resurfacing to tug painfully inside his chest. He swallowed down the lump that had risen so suddenly and began to tell the story.

"After Lily and Remus were killed and you were taken to the Dursley's, I immediately went into hiding in the Muggle world for a while. Dumbledore was my only source of news, so suffice it to say, I didn't get much that often as neither of us wanted the neighbours getting suspicious, or Voldemort and his followers for that matter. But Dumbledore did deem it important information for me to know the day Sirius was framed for the murder of the twelve Muggles and supposedly Pettigrew. I met Hagrid in Diagon Alley the next day, and he took me straight to Hogwarts where Dumbledore and I argued for the better part of the next week over what to do. Of course, I wanted to testify on his behalf as Remus Lupin, but Albus informed me Fudge had already believed him guilty, and had sent him straight to Azkaban without a trial."

"Sirius never got a trial?" asked Harry incredulously. "Why?"

"Because even back then Lucius Malfoy had Fudge in his wealthy back pocket. And I believe Lucius was already on Voldemort's side. Having heard James Potter's infant son defeated the most 'powerful wizard in the world', I think nothing pleased Malfoy or Voldemort more than to see James' best friend headed to Azkaban for murder. And with the very wizard supposedly murdered helping Malfoy out with details…well."

Harry took in the information and filed it away with what he already knew. "So Sirius went to Azkaban. Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get him out? He would've done for you if the situations were reversed. I know he would've."

Lupin sighed downheartedly. "You and he've become quite close, haven't you?"

Harry set his jaw and spoke in low tones. "He's the closest thing to a father I've had for a very long time. Yes, we have."

Lupin felt the impact of his son's words like a blow to the chest, but steeled himself against it anyway. What else could he have expected? And if it couldn't be himself acting as Harry's father this whole time, there was no one else he would've picked over Sirius, was there?. Yet, it was still painful to see how Sirius had virtually replaced James in Harry's life.

"You haven't answered my question," said Harry bluntly. "Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get Sirius released..."

"We did Harry," said James quite sadly. He clawed a hand frustratedly through Lupin's straight brown hair. "We fought Fudge for twelve long years trying to get him out until we'd exhausted every witness and resource we had. If you'll remember, before Sirius broke out of Azkaban, there hadn't been a breakout for some odd fifty years. How do you think he was finally able to get free?"

Harry hadn't considered this before, and he now thought rather stupidly of himself for it. Lupin answered the question for him.

"Still have my old invisibility cloak?"

Harry blinked hard and shot his gaze back to his fathers. "No…that doesn't make sense! Sirius didn't have the cloak then, I did. Still do."

"You think that's the only one in existence?" said Lupin almost dully, as if the memory of the past was beginning to wear him down. "True they are rare. More rare than you could possibly imagine. The wards around Azkaban are so strong, there is absolutely no penetrating it from the outside. Dumbledore and I had one of his operatives hiding out close to there almost every week for years and years trying out some new spell or incantation to break in. Nothing ever worked. Until we found out Sirius was still lucid enough to receive and read the Prophet from his cell. I hadn't thought it possible that he still had that much of his mind about him, but he did. To this day, I still don't know how he managed it. In any case, that's when I began to realise that if we could somehow slip in something for him to use, he was possibly cognisant enough to break himself out. We planned for months, and finally devised the only way to get it in to him. We had one of Dumbledore's own people sent away."

"To Azkaban?" asked a baffled Harry.

"Yes," said Lupin. "Only we had a loyal Ministry official from the inside, not one of Fudge's own men escort him in. I would've done myself but Dumbledore thought it would look too suspicious, besides the fact I didn't need to be seen. Anyhow, he hid with him an invisibility cloak we'd nicked from the Department of Magical Artifacts. It took months of torment before Dumbledore's man and Sirius were able to escape; at which time during the waiting, Dumbledore hired me on here at Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Mainly because Hogwarts needed one and I was well versed in it having been in the Order of the Phoenix myself, but also to await Sirius' escape."

Harry was dumbfounded. "I'm…this is a bit much to take in all at once…on top of everything else," he finished somewhat sourly.

Lupin closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "I understand…Now you have to understand something. Sirius knows of everything I've just told you, down to the very last detail..except for one thing."

Harry glanced up at him. "Who you really are."

James nodded slowly, the weight of such a heavy burden for so many years etched permanently in the lines on his face. "And now that you know, it's time he knows too."

"What about what you just said though?" asked Harry, leaning forward on his knees. "What about the fact he won't be able to keep himself from wanting to help us?"

"I've thought that over a lot myself Harry," said James with a wry smile. "And here's the conclusion Dumbledore and I've come up with. The final war with Voldemort is approaching so fast we aren't even assured tomorrow. And when that day comes, I want Sirius standing with us; Ministry be damned. I know he'd want the same thing. Remus and Lily are dead because of that bastard Harry. And I know once the battle is over, new lines will be drawn and old lies will be brought to light. I believe he will be exonerated anyway. Especially if Dumbledore takes over Fudge's position. And he will, either way the battle falls. No wizard or witch in their right minds will want Fudge back in power when they find out how long he's been trying to deceive them."

Harry nodded slowly. "So you think Dumbledore'll let him fight, do you?"

Lupin set his mouth into a grim line. "I think once the war finally does start there'll be no way he can stop him. Whether or not Sirius ever found out I was really James, he'd still be involved in this war. After Sirius denounced the Blacks, Lily and I were all he had. Do you see? Voldemort took away part of his family, just the same as he took mine."

Harry nodded his head heavily, the realisation that the lines in the sand were being drawn and the stage for war was being set weighing down so oppressively on his shoulders, that all he could think of was how much he wanted to get back to his and Hermione's common room and hide away with her again for the night. But he needed to see Sirius as well; needed to be there for him when he found out who Lupin really was; and needed to be there when he came apart. Because he would just as certainly as Harry had, he mused grimly. And as certainly as James was family, so was Sirius, almost more so. He just hoped when the revelation came Sirius would be able to withstand it.

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

Chapter 25: Reunion

James Potter turned to his son, sitting beside him in front of the now extinguished fireplace and noted the grim, foreboding look on his face. Truth be told, he felt exactly the same way.

"You ready then?" asked James quietly.

Harry shifted rigidly in his seat; cold prickles of nervousness shooting down his spine. His eyes stayed glued to the floo. "Doesn't matter. He needs to know."

James nodded in agreement and stood, stepping close to the hearth. He pulled up what Harry realised was a fake plant from a flowerpot near him and reached inside, grabbing a small palmful of what looked like lime-green ash. After replacing the false plant, he tossed the substance into the fire and watched as a wall of green flames suddenly whooshed up to lick the insides of the fireplace.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

As Lupin stuck his head in the flames and felt the familiar nauseating sensation of his head being screwed off like a top, he opened his eyes to finally find himself staring at the sparse unkempt living room of Sirius Black.

Back on the other side, his eyes planted firmly on the lower torso of his father, Harry wrung his hands in nervousness.

James took a few moments to let the vertigo pass, and then called out quietly. "Padfoot…"

No answer. "Padfoot!" Lupin called, his eyes scanning the room as far as his vision could take him. "Sirius, are you there mate?"

A rushed thumping sound came from somewhere toward his left, and Lupin finally saw Sirius Black rush round the fireplace and throw himself haphazardly on the carpet in front of the fire, his eyes at once scanning the face of his friend.

"Remus! Where've you been!? It's been months since we last spoke, why haven't you…Hang on…is it Harry? What's happened…"

Remus quickly shook his head and steeled himself, fighting down the small surge of jealousy that stung him at the paternal sound in his friend's voice. Sirius, though looking pale from all the months of being cooped up inside, looked no worse for the wear. His long, unkempt hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and a few days worth of stubble roughened his cheeks. He looked as if he'd been taking better care of himself. He'd filled out more, and the haunted look that had once been a permanent feature on his face seemed to be slowly disappearing. Inwardly, James felt a bit of relief wash over him. The last thing Sirius needed was to be in poor health for what was in store.

"No, no. Calm yourself, Sirius. Harry's fine…In fact, he's here with me now."

Sirius narrowed his brown eyes and moved to perch himself rigidly on the edge of his couch. "There with you…and where exactly might that be?"

"Hogwarts."

He started. "Hogwarts!? What in Merlin's name are you doing there? And for that matter, what're you doing flooing me from there unless something's happened!?"

Just from watching the lower half of his father's body, Harry could see the nerves stiffening his spine. Lupin's torso shifted uncomfortably and for the life of him, Harry wished he could hear the conversation on the other side. Just hurry up for the love of god…get him over here…

"Dumbledore's offered me the teaching position over the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class," replied Remus as he steadied his voice. "Along with extra classes for Harry in particular."

"Advanced DADA?" said Sirius surprised. "That's a new one, I take it. And extra classes for what?"

Lupin paused, feeling out his next words. "Well, I've…been schooling him in a bit of…a bit of fencing."

Once again Sirius frowned in confusion, but an ironic smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. "Fencing aye? I'm surprised Dumbledore chose you as his teacher, no offence, mate. You never were that steady with the sword, were you? That was always James' strong suit. Took after his father, I reckon."

Lupin paled. "Yes..er well…suffice it to say I’m glad I've gotten better at it. With what's been happening round here, Harry might very soon have need of it."

At the last sentence, Sirius stood up so swiftly that the small coffee table in front of him almost toppled over. He reached behind him to grab his wand out from his back pocket. "With what's been happening!? What'd you mean!? Does this have to do with Harry!?

"Harry…among others," said Lupin quietly after a small pause.

"And why, might I ask, is this the first I've heard of it?" Sirius hissed angrily. "We bloody well did promise we'd keep the other informed if one of us got any news, didn't we!? Or was that some other two wizards I'm getting us confused with!?"

"I'm here telling you now, aren't I?" said Lupin quickly.

"And yet for some reason I get the feeling you've waited to get in contact with me. In fact, I get the distinct feeling you've been trying to avoid me for some months now," said Sirius with a hard, sardonic edge to his voice. "In case you've missed it Remus, I'm his bloody godfather, for shitsake! I more than anyone else am entitled to know what's going on with Harry!"

"More than anyone else!?" James suddenly blurted out angrily through his teeth. "You're not even his fa…" But he stopped himself before what he had to divulge came out in a much different way than he'd intended.

"I'm sorry, Padfoot. I'm sorry." James shook the brown hair from Remus' eyes frustratedly. "Look old friend, I've had a talk with Dumbledore. He's agreed so long as you stay in my room and don't leave it, you can come to visit Harry and I whenever you like. I really think now would be a good time. We…I mean I have things to discuss with you."

Sirius glanced down to the floor angrily and leaned forward on his knees. "Brilliant. So he's agreed to allow me to transfer occasionally from one prison to another, is that it? How generous of him."

"You're not wanting back into Azkaban, are you?" asked Remus harshly. "Because the way I see it until the Ministry clears you; if anyone other than Dumbledore, the Order, or Harry and his two friends sees you that's exactly where you're headed."

Sirius eyed him angrily for a few moments but wisely decided not to answer, knowing full well the truthfulness of his friend's words. He finally stood. "And where am I headed now?"

"You have floo powder?" asked Remus shortly.

Sirius favoured him with a curt half-nod. "Ironically, yes I do."

"Good. Room number one twenty one, Hogwarts. We'll see you in a few." And Remus Lupin's head disappeared from the floo.

Harry leaned forward on his knees, nervously bouncing his leg up and down; his hands clasped white-knuckled before him. As his father finally, mercifully pulled his head back from the fire and stood upright swiping ash from his face, Harry immediately noticed the look of frustration. He quickly jumped to his feet.

"Well?" said Harry anxiously.

"He'll be here in a few moments," said Lupin as he moved his chair away from the hearth and motioned for Harry to do the same.

As he did so and stood back, Harry's heartbeat began to pound out wave after wave of dread and he nervously clawed a hand through his hair. His eyes stayed glued on the hearth as they had been moments before. For some reason, he felt more nervous for Sirius than he had for himself the night he sat facing Dumbledore and Lupin, knowing they had kept some earth-shattering secret from him they were about to divulge. He guessed knowing how it had effected him made it almost unbearable for him to watch the same happen to Sirius. He felt though, that the impact for Sirius might somehow be even more intense than it had been for himself.

Sirius had known Remus Lupin as long as he had known James Potter. Not only would he soon be shocked with the knowledge that his best friend was still alive, but he would also have to deal with the fact that for all these years, he hadn't been sharing a relationship with Remus Lupin at all. That in fact, his friend was dead, and had been for the past sixteen years.

Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other and jammed his hands in the pockets of his robes; all thoughts of what he'd previously come to discuss with Lupin banished from his mind. Once again he fought the desire to run back to Hermione and seal their portrait door shut to the world. He immediately felt selfish, but it was hard to suppress the urge to return to where he felt safest and most normal. After sixteen years of never having a loving haven to retreat to, it was hard for Harry not to wish he was there most of the time. He sighed out loud, and Lupin glanced at him.

"You don't have to be here for this Harry," he said quietly.

Harry instantly had to push down the outraged response that leapt to his mind. No…he just doesn't understand, that's all…he doesn't understand… "Yes I do. I have to be here for Sirius. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Yes I can…" Lupin gazed over at his son without resentment, but swallowed down the lump that seemed nowadays to reside permanently in his throat. "And I will, Harry. I'm proud of you son. No matter what, I'm proud of you."

Harry blinked a few times, obviously surprised at the response he'd just gotten. Those simple words of acceptance from James over Harry and Sirius' relationship did more for Harry towards his father than anything else before combined. He only had the willpower at the moment to nod gratefully at him.

A great whoosh sounded in the fireplace, and a gusty cloud of ash preceded Sirius Black as he landed unsteadily on his feet in the hearth and stepped out, his eyes immediately falling on his godson and Lupin. He cleaned the mess and himself with a flick of his wand.

A genuine grin split his face, and it seemed to Harry as if it'd been a long time since he'd last seen that expression on him.

"Harry," Sirius walked over to him and gave him a swift hug.. "It's good to see you."

Harry felt himself grinning back despite the situation. "You too."

Sirius nodded cordially to Lupin, missing the fact that for a moment, he'd looked away from the two.

"Good to see you again," said Lupin, walking over to the two to shake his friend's hand.

"You too Moony," replied Black, finally moving to seat himself at one of the three chairs surrounding the small dining table near the kitchen. As he sat, he took a brief moment to eye his friend's surroundings. "Not bad…not bad at all."

Lupin nodded his agreement, and he and Harry took chairs at the table as well. Sirius eyed the two as they sat, making note of the fact that both men, the younger and the older, seemed a bit strained, at best. His suspicions began to rise even more.

"Butterbeer?" asked Lupin as he made to rise from the table as soon as he'd sat.

Sirius raised a hand and spoke up sternly. "No, thank you, Remus. But what I would like is an explanation. Being holed up in the old estate I don't get a lot of information but from what you've said it's obvious Voldemort's been showing himself again. Whatever's been going on here, I want a part of it. I'm entitled to it, I think."

"No!" Harry barked out. He turned to him directly, instantly frightened at the thought that Sirius might do something to get himself caught. "There's nothing you or anyone else can do right now. We don't know where he is or what he's planning as of yet."

Lupin watched Sirius eye them furtively, and decided to move ahead with the issue of Voldemort first. "I reckon you've heard about the Dementors defecting…"

Sirius nodded. "Thankfully Dumbledore floo's me the Prophet daily; too risky with owls. He at least understands I need to keep up with the news. Of course my first thought was to contact you, but I didn't know where you'd gotten to, did I?"

"There is a reason," said Lupin quietly, leaning forward to place his weight on his elbows. Harry shot him a look.

"I'm listening," said Sirius with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

"I've had something I've needed to tell you for a long time," said Lupin, glancing down as he clawed a hand through his hair. Upon seeing this, Sirius squinted closely at him, a feeling of familiarity ticking in his mind. Without really thinking about it, his gaze turned toward Harry who so resembled his late father. Odd, he'd never noticed Moony with that habit…

Lupin seemed to stiffen and decided it would be best to get all other business out of the way first. "I think first we should let you in on what's been going on here. Harry, I'll let you start."

Harry shared a slight nod with his father, and Sirius felt himself getting angry at the cloak and dagger game his godson and Remus seemed to be playing. "I don' t know what the bloody hell's going on here, but one of you had better tell me something, now."

Harry turned to his godfather and instantly affected a relaxed posture. "Sorry Sirius. Things have been strange for a while. Believe it or not, it goes all the way back to this past summer at the Dursley's. Started rather oddly with a nightmare…"

And for the next couple of hours, Harry explained everything that had happened to him, Hermione and Ron, from the day he met them in Diagon Alley up to last night, when they'd been able, with the help of the sorting hat's song from fifth year, to figure out some of the cryptic message Trelawny had divined. Lupin interjected some when he could, from when he'd gotten there, to when he was able to add insight, being careful for the moment to leave out certain things. And the thick tension in the room dwindled to a slight unease for the time being.

"So, I reckon Trelawny's not quite the batty old crackpot we always took her for," said Sirius in all earnestness.

"Seems that way," said Remus as he massaged his temples.

"But about the old prediction she made involving you and Voldemort," said Sirius as he turned toward Harry and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Harry, I want you to know, I don't give a damn if Merlin himself comes back and tells you to face him alone. It's never going to happen, you hear me?. You will never be alone in your fight with him. Remus and I, along with the rest of the Order member will be right along side you, fighting to the end."

Harry paused for a moment, the heavy burden sinking its claws into his flesh with an icy numbness once more. "I know that's what you'd like to happen; but Sirius, in reality, I think it'll turn out exactly as Trelawny said."

"We decide the future Harry, not the other way round," said Sirius, stubbornly setting his jaw. James recognised the expression on his face and knew it would do no good for Harry to further argue with him.

To Harry's surprise, although he shouldn't have been, James agreed with Sirius. "He's right. You won't be alone Harry. Neither of us would ever let you, and for that matter, I don't believe Ron or Hermione would ever permit it, either. Do you?"

Harry clasped his hands in front of him and chose not to answer. The question had never been would there be those out there willing to sacrifice for him. The question had been, when it came down to it, would he allow them too? Harry had been grappling with the same torturous thought night after night in his nightmares. He would wake, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he was sure it would soon wake Hermione, nestled so close to him. He could still see them in his mind's eye even now, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, his father, all laid out on the ground before a grinning Voldemort, eyes dead and unseeing, but plastered on Harry all the same. And the forgiveness he would read in their expressions…We would do it all over again for you in a second, Harry… But in the mirror of his mind, accusation and hatred would stare back at him forever.

"Harry," repeated Sirius, louder this time. Harry's attention snapped back to the present.

"You all right, son?" Lupin, concerned for him, had barely noted what he'd just said. Instantly, Harry shot him a panicked look, and his father realised what he'd done. jealous

Sirius looked more angry that he did confused and turned a resentful gaze on Lupin. "And when exactly, did you start calling him that?"

Harry felt the blood draining from his face, and could see that his father was equally as pale. But the gaze James shot him translated in his mind immediately. It's time he knows… And Harry nodded to his father, watching him slowly take a seat and turn his attention back to his old friend.

Sirius' gaze shot between Lupin and Harry, and he suddenly, angrily slammed a fist down onto the table. "All right. Just what the bloody hell is going on? I've let the secret glances and the strange behaviour go on all night! It's obvious you've been keeping something from me and I want the right truth now, damn it!"

"Calm down Sirius," said Lupin quietly, his gaze directed at the tabletop as he folded his hands in front of him. "I've been planning on telling you all along as I said before. I just wanted you to understand what's been going on round here first."

"And I appreciate it," replied Sirius impatiently, fixing the other two with a piercing stare. "But now I want to know what the bloody hell's got you two acting so strange. Let's hear it."

He looked from Remus to Harry, and the expressions of dread on their faces did nothing to alleviate the already growing panic fluttering in his chest. Remus, for his part, looked absolutely terrible; his eyes red and swimming with tears. And Harry looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Lupin spoke up. "I…I don't really know of a way to explain it to you, except to try telling you the same way I told Harry. What happened that night should never have occurred in the first place, but on retrospect, I don't imagine anything would've changed…"

Sirius' flustered gaze drifted to Harry who had slumped dejectedly in his seat, utterly silent except for the deep breaths he seemed to be taking. The young man seemed unable to meet his eyes. He turned back to Lupin.

"What night? What're you on about, mate?"

Lupin swallowed harshly and his voice broke as he continued. "The night Voldemort attacked. The night Lily and J…James were killed."

Sirius eyed him sharply. "Wh…I don't understand. Moony, we've been through this thousands of times since then…"

"Let me finish," Lupin croaked out.

Sirius saw Harry hadn't moved an inch, and he felt a cold dread building in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here…something was very wrong… What don't I know…What…

"Sirius…on the n..night…a few hours before Voldemort attacked James and Lily, Re…I was there in Godric's hollow…at the cottage with them."

Sirius glared openly at him, clearly in shock. "What'd you mean you were there!? That doesn't make any bloody sense! If you were there how in the hell did you survive!? And WHY THE HELL AM I JUST HEARING OF THIS!? This doesn't make sense…this doesn't make a bit of bloody sense…" He stood and began pacing the floor, once again noticing that Harry continued to stare blankly at the table in front of him.

Lupin went on, his grief-stricken voice taking on an almost monotone quality, as if he'd been preparing the speech for years… "Rem…James and…We'd been having a discussion on how we both felt Wormtail had been acting suspicious. James felt that he wanted to confront him…"

"James wanted to confront him!?" said Sirius whirling around to stare at Lupin. "I didn't even know he'd had time to suspect him before Voldemort attacked."

Lupin nodded his head jerkily. "He did. Re…I..didn't want James going off to find him, but…but he bloody insisted. I guess in retrospect it made sense of course. Since I wasn't Lily and James' secret keeper, I couldn't really question Peter on it, could I?"

Sirius sat down slowly, absorbed again, as he had been so many times before, in the details of the night Lily and James Potter died. A fresh wave of pain rose in him sharper than it had in a very long time, and he felt as if the scab was being peeled back from an old wound that had even as of yet not properly healed.

He watched Remus face contort with grief the same as it had so many times before on the same subject, but this time, something was different…something in the way he looked; his face, the way he held himself…

Something nagged at the back recesses of Sirius Black's mind, something that seemed long forgotten, but at the same time, just recently misplaced in his mind, as if the answer was just on the tip of his tongue, ready to spring back to remembrance at any second…

"So…" continued Lupin tremulously, now more shaken than Sirius had ever seen him. "You know…remember how stubborn James was to a bloody fault."

Sirius nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "He was that."

"I couldn't dissuade him, no matter how hard I tried. James decided then and there, that he was the only one to confront Peter."

Sirius frowned. "But how could James have confronted Peter with his own suspicions? Besides that fact, Prongs was never very sympathetic to Peter, was he? How in the hell did he think he was going to get anything from him?"

Lupin turned haunted eyes to his friend, eyes that could've spoken volumes without a single word. "He didn't…that's why he chose Remus."

Sirius set his jaw and stared at Remus Lupin as if he were completely cracked. "You've bloody lost me."

"W…we…we decided the only way to get Peter to open up, was to have James confront Peter…as Remus."

Sirius stiffened, his heart for some reason now jack-hammering against his chest, leaving him breathless. He felt himself leaning away from Lupin; the nagging in his brain now practically screaming at him to remember…remember something…

Lupin gripped the table as the weight of his final confession dropped from his shoulders, and simultaneously sent a shock wave of fear rippling down his body. It was too late to take it back now, and even if he could, he wouldn't. He owed the truth to Sirius, and now that he was finally able to give it to him, he wasn't going to slink away from it. He felt Harry's eyes now boring into him, and somehow found the strength to continue.

"James and Remus decided to perform a switching spell, Padfoot. But while Ja…J…I was gone,," he finally spat out, "Voldemort attacked."

Sirius stood and began to back away from the table, clutching his wand, suddenly terrified of the tears that were streaming down Remus Lupin's face…a face that suddenly seemed wrong, out of place…

"Remus and Lily died that night, Sirius…my old friend. And when I returned, I found my son as the only survivor."

Harry stood shakily, prepared to move toward Sirius, but a look from James told him to stay where he was.

"Y…You're a liar," breathed Sirius hoarsely, backing toward the floo with his wand outstretched. "You're a bloody frickin' liar, and I can't for the life of me figure out why…"

He didn't even know what he was going to do with the wand, except for the immediate thought that the two people sitting in front of him weren't who they said they were. Perhaps they'd both taken a Polyjuice Potion, perhaps both Remus and Harry were lying somewhere around Hogwarts, attacked, dead…maybe horribly injured…

"Sirius," said Remus, moving just slightly toward him and holding up both hands to show he was defenceless. "Look at me, mate. Listen to me…Remember all the times you helped Lily and I sneak from the common room late at night, under Moony's prefect nose? Remember how you distracted Philomena Hirum, the pretty brunette prefect along with Remus in sixth year?"

"Anyone could know that," hissed Sirius almost hysterically, raising his wand to ward James from coming any further. "Anyone who went to school with us could've found that out…"

"What about my parents? Thaddeus and Augusta Potter…how they took you in that final time you ran away from your mum? How you and I were practically brothers from then on, do you remember Padfoot? Do you remember how we used to sneak out during the summers and catch the Knight Bus over to Moony's house, where he and Wormtail were waiting? How we four used to tromp about town till all hours of the night and sneak back in the window just in time?"

Sirius began vehemently shaking his head, his eyes wide and confused, and the colour seemed to be draining from his face. "Easy facts to find out…anyone…anyone who really wanted to could've found that out…"

"Sirius he's telling the truth," said Harry quietly. "Please believe him. I've come to accept it too."

"Shut up! Shut the hell up, both of you!" screamed Sirius, raising his wand toward them both. Harry instantly raised his hands as well. "Who are you!?" hissed Sirius. "I don't know why the bloody hell you'd want to do something like this…"

"This isn't a prank," said James quietly.

"I'LL SAY IT BLOODY WELL ISN'T!" bellowed Sirius dangerously, raising his wand at both James and Harry's eye level. "Now, either you start telling the truth, or I'll stun the both of you and force veritaserum down your throats…"

Lupin raised his hands and made as if to move forward once again.

"If you don't want to be thrown across this room and slammed into a wall, I suggest you keep still," growled Sirius menacingly.

Lupin slowed his movements dramatically. "Wait Sirius, just listen to me. There's one time I can tell you, no one else could possibly know. Do you remember, the night we decided to let Peter be secret keeper rather than you? We had to obliviate the information from your mind so you'd never be forced to tell anyone what you knew. Do you remember what we did after, though Padfoot? So that we'd always have a permanent reminder of our friendship? Of the fact that I would still trust you with my life, and the life of my family?"

Sirius blinked rapidly at the two before him.

"We cut our hands, remember mate? We cut our hands and shook on it. Brothers by friendship, brothers by fortune, brothers by blood…Even though this body doesn't bear the scar of that night, I still remember. I know you do as well."

Sirius felt his knees buckling under him and grabbed at the mantle for support. He turned his right hand over to examine the faded old scar, and the blurred pictures behind it suddenly came into focus. It was then that he was finally able to study the faces up close. Pictures of James and Lily, their wedding…James, Lily and baby Harry…intimate moments of their short lives together; pictures only James Potter would have…

Remus nodded sadly to him when Sirius turned stunned, overwhelmed eyes back toward him. "Happier times, weren't they mate?"

"He's telling the truth," said Harry quietly, his eyes swimming with tears. "I wasn't there for all of that, I know. But Dumbledore'll confirm it for you, Sirius."

Sirius just continued to shake his head, feeling as if he was trapped in some nightmare he couldn't wake from, as if every moment of the past sixteen years were some horrible dream as well, that he might suddenly wake from it at any moment and have to face the fact that those past sixteen years had never really happened at all…

"Let me do something for you," said James suddenly as a thought hit him. "Let me revisit all those times on you, that you almost had me figured out. Let me help you remember all those times I've had to make you forget."

"Wh…what'd you…wh..how…" asked Sirius shakily, eyeing Remus as if he saw him now only through some sort of opaque glass, something that blurred him from reality…

"It's a simple recanting spell," said James reassuredly as he made for his wand. He picked it up, and then set it back down again in front of Sirius. "You see? You can have me in an instant if I'm up to no good."

Sirius merely stared from him to Harry and continued to hold his wand on them both. Something in his mind, the same something that had been nagging at the back of his brain was now telling him to let it happen. Let Remus do it…let him help you remember what it is you've forgotten…what you've possibly been made to forget…

And James raised his wand. "Commemini Oblivium."

Blue energy flowed forth from James Potter's wand, and suddenly, snatches of countless blank areas of Sirius Black's memory began to fill with images. Minutes of his life that had been unaccounted for suddenly rushed back into his thoughts like the pounding of ocean waves, one after the other, and Harry, from the other side of the room could almost see the recognition forming in Sirius' eyes.

Flashes filled the small voids of his memory; a laugh that seemed out of place, countless gestures that seemed all too familiar on the wrong person. Careless bits of knowledge accidentally given, information that shouldn't have been known, the way Remus rode his broom, unlike the careful steady Lupin Sirius knew, and all too similar to the recklessness of James Potter. Simple conversations that seemed to easy and carefree; too familiar; too unlike the serious Remus of old…and suddenly, a time when Sirius had almost confronted Remus with the truth…the truth he'd found staring him in the face as he'd picked up and accidentally read the first of a series of lines from Lupin's personal journal…

'I don't know how long I can keep up the charade. It kills me not to tell him who I am; kills me every day I think of how I've had to hand my son's emotional well-being over to him, though there's no one else I trust as fully as Padfoot…'

Sirius felt as if he were falling, though he still felt his feet under him. "Oh my god…oh god…J..James…oh my god…"

His face had gone solid white, and alarmed, both James and Harry began to rush forward as one, but Sirius held up both of his hands. "N..no…"

He stumbled backward, ducked into the hearth and ripped up the pot on the floor beside him, grabbing a handful of green powder and tossing the rest aside onto the floor.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London!" He cried out, and was gone in a flash of green fire.

Suddenly, the room was thrown into silence once again, and James stood lifelessly with Harry beside him, his arms hanging uselessly at his side. He was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, vaguely aware that his son now stood away from him, one hand jammed into the pocket of his robes, the other covering his eyes, tears streaming over the knuckles.

James summoned the strength to continue breathing and sat himself miserably down in a chair. "My god…" he rasped out quietly to himself. "Look what I've done to everyone I love…look what I've done…"

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Chapter 26: An Invitation

December came to the Scottish highlands blustery and bitingly frigid, the howling wind and whirling snow carrying an icy chill that numbed anyone caught in it to the bone. The purplish mountains that served to outline the horizon of Hogwarts were now topped with snowfall, and the grounds outside were a thick blanket of powdery white, with the trees, looking strangely skeletal for lack of leaves, bowing heavily under piles of snow. The castles eaves, along with Hagrid's hut for that matter, dripped with long thick icicles that glistened in what little sunlight peeked out during the day, but the sky had mostly decided now to colour itself in only two ways; grey for the daytime and grey-black for night.

Since their conversation with Sirius some three weeks prior, neither Harry nor his father had been able to contact him. They'd figured out, after a week or more of trying to floo him that Sirius had somehow charmed his fireplace to disconnect from James' floo only, since both Harry and his father assumed he was still in contact with Dumbledore. He would need to be, if only to receive news from the outside world.

It was for this reason that Harry and James, along with Ron and Hermione, were headed down the cold castle hallways at that very moment to Dumbledore's office on a dull grey, freezing Friday afternoon. They'd finished Advanced DADA a couple of hours ago, with Harry finishing fencing after, and had decided to finally seek out the Headmaster's advice; though Harry and his father rather thought to themselves that their reasoning had more to do with the fact that Dumbledore was the only one who now knew of Sirius well-being.

"D'you think he's in?" asked Ron as they faced the two stone gargoyles that hid Dumbledore's office from the rest of the castle.

"Don’t see why not," said Lupin as he absently ran his hands over his arms. "For the love of Godric I wish there was some way to keep the entire castle warm."

Harry nodded his agreement and wrapped his arm tighter around a shivering Hermione. "Sherbet Lemon."

The ugly statues hopped out of the way to both sides and a door ground opened to reveal a twisted staircase, ascending slowly with the grating sound of stone against stone. The four jumped on one after the other and rode the steps to the top, where they stepped into a decidedly warmer and more inviting area.

Dumbledore's office had always been for Hermione particularly, an area of fascination. It was circular, with some walls filled from top to bottom with nothing but enormous curved bookshelves that reached toward the ceiling. As she passed the sorting hat she greeted it politely.

The dozens of trinkets fascinated Ron; all sorts of delicate silver baubles and gadgets lined polished tables strewn here and there along the deep red carpeting. The portraits of long dead Headmasters of old pretended to be sleeping, as always, though Harry swore he saw one peek at them from the slit of an eye and then close it again quickly, affecting a rather loud snore after.

One step up took them to the slightly higher second level where Dumbledore's desk sat gleaming a dark finished wood in the middle of the floor. It was covered in scrolls and parchments, devices and instruments, but no Headmaster. Fawkes perched regally on a tall stand by the staircase leading toward the uppermost floor, and Harry thought to himself that he was looking rather as if it was coming time for him to burn again.

Four chairs suddenly apparated with a *pop* in front of the Headmaster's desk causing Hermione to squeal unexpectedly. Lupin looked up to discover Dumbledore in dark purple robes with silvery moons and stars on them, peering over the top floor railing at them through his half-moon glasses, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Lupin favoured him with a half smile. "Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled and began to descend the staircase slowly owing to his age, finally coming to stand before them. "After all this time I think it safe by now for you to call me Albus, James. Have a seat, please." He gestured politely for the four to have a seat and rounded his desk to do the same.

"Er…Professor Dumbledore," began Harry a little hesitantly. "We wanted to…discuss something with you, Professor Lupin and I. Though we want it made clear we're not trying to get information from you you're not at liberty to give us…"

Dumbledore held up a hand and favoured Harry with a light smile. "Say no more, Harry. I'm right in assuming this is about Sirius?"

So Lupin had been keeping the Headmaster informed, Harry thought to himself. He wondered secretly what else his father had chosen to share with him.

Harry nodded sadly in answer to his question. "Yes sir."

"He hasn't tried to contact either of us since the night I told him who I really am," said Lupin in a small, tired voice. "Not that I blame him, mind you. But Harry and I've tried to contact him ourselves, and he's cut us off from his floo network. We're assuming he's still in contact with you?"

Dumbledore nodded from behind steepled fingers. "He is. Though I'm sure you know he wouldn't be confiding in me on something this personal. Our conversations consist of Ministry news and the Daily Prophet, nothing more… He's had quite a shock, you know. Might take him quite a bit of time to come to terms with it."

"I'm sure," answered Lupin matter-of-factly. "And I completely understand it. I never considered he'd pour his heart out to you. It's just, well…Ms. Granger here has had an idea she thought might help and I feel she may have something, though we'll need the use of your floo to do it since you're the only one who can reach him."

Dumbledore, looking slightly surprised even for him, turned his attention toward Hermione, who shifted a bit nervously in her chair.

"I thought, well… I thought we might invite Sirius to spend the holidays here with us in the castle," began Hermione. "I figured he might be able to come to terms with things more easily when surrounded by his friends…While still being with Professor Lu…er, Mr. Potter, he wouldn't yet have to face the awkwardness of having to meet with him alone."

"You can call me James out of the classroom, Hermione." Said Lupin with a perfunctory smile. Hermione nodded gratefully, and Harry blinked hard once. The sound of his father's first name coming from Hermione would be a bit odd for him to hear.

Dumbledore appeared to be considering what Hermione had said and the four waited silently for his response.

"You've all decided to spend the holidays here at Hogwarts, then?" asked the Headmaster.

"Well, I'm not. Mum insists we all spend Christmas together…especially since…well..since Percy won't be joining us." Ron ended the sentence with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "Normally it'd be Harry too, and Sirius would be more than welcome as far as Mum is concerned I'm sure, but all of the Weasley's on top of everyone else would be too much for Sirius to handle right now, I think."

"I would tend to agree with you on that," said Dumbledore, a wry smile twisting the very corners of his mouth.

"So it'd be just myself, Hermione, Sirius…and dad," said Harry, forcing out the last word in a small voice. Lupin shot him a surprised glance which Harry ignored. "He'd probably want to stay in the Gryffindor common room; have a bit of privacy. And from looking over the holiday rosters, Hermione and I are the only students who're staying over the holidays this year. No one should find out."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes taking a far-off look as he thought over the plan and the implications it might have. If Sirius were seen by anyone other than himself or the ones in this room, the consequences could be very dire indeed, yet… he needed somehow to be able to come to terms with the news he'd just received. Dumbledore could think of no better and less troubling of a situation for Sirius than to have him over for the holidays. He could floo home whenever he wished, no pressures to right things straight away, and Ms. Granger was right in saying that the situation would be much less threatening to him with others around to lessen the awkwardness, and to soften the blow…

"I'll permit it," said Dumbledore amidst a group of suddenly relieved faces, but continued with a very stern voice that sounded as if he thought the situation would normally be against his better judgement. "However, I want it made absolutely clear Sirius is to stay within the walls of this school. I'll inform Severus and Minerva of his coming as they're the only other professors staying over, but I can't stress enough what could happen should Sirius be somehow found out. Not only would he have every Ministry-loyal Auror and hitwizard directly after him, but the school would come under immediate attack from the Ministry. Fudge would take this as an opportunity to have me ousted and the school taken over. I'm trusting all of you to keep this in mind."

Lupin nodded gravely. "I understand the implications Albus. You can be certain we'll take every precaution."

"It'll be good for Sirius to get out from Grimmauld Place for a while," Harry stated, almost more to himself than anyone else.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "He can't be very happy cooped up in the old dark estate alone with no one round to keep him company…"

"Especially during the holidays," finished Hermione for him. "We'll have to work hard at making him feel comfortable and welcome. It'll probably be really awkward at first, but hopefully he'll come round to talking with…everyone. Though it might just be Harry and I for a while."

Lupin nodded sadly at this, and Dumbledore eyed him with a look of understanding. "You did what you had to do James," he said quietly. "You kept your identity hidden to keep Harry and Sirius safe and I think once he understands it, Sirius won't be able to fault you for it. It may take him quite a while to come to terms with the shock, but once he does, I can't imagine he'll be anything but happy to have his closest friend back… no matter the circumstances."

Harry said nothing during this exchange, but somehow in his own mind, he wasn't so sure Dumbledore understood how Sirius must feel. It would take longer than one shared holiday for him to suddenly feel right with everything. After all, Harry was still sorting through things in his own mind, and he couldn't imagine, with Sirius having even more to deal with what with having to grieve for the death of a friend he hadn't even known was dead, that he would come round so quickly. Besides the fact, Sirius would probably have the same feelings of confusion and betrayal Harry had been battling for some odd three months now.

Dumbledore watched the four leave his office and could tell just from the look on Harry's face that he doubted what the Headmaster had just said. But Harry didn't know that the subject wasn't one Dumbledore was just pretending to understand. In fact, it was something he dealt with everyday…something he held closely guarded and wrapped in his own shroud of secrecy. Something, the Headmaster thought as he watched Harry exit, laying his head heavily in his hands, he wished he could unburden himself of with every waking moment…

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

The grey, frosty days of the middle of December meant to the students, who chatted excitedly in the halls between classes, that time for the Yule Ball was fast approaching. Scads of house elves, along with a grudging Filch who made Ebenezer Scrooge seem almost loveable by comparison, had begun the yearly chore of decorating the castle for the holidays. The halls leading to every classroom were covered in wreaths, decorative baubles, snowmen charmed to stay frozen, and great bright Christmas trees. Even Trelawny had gotten into the holiday spirit and had decided she at least hadn't seen Harry's early demise happening in December, so he could have a pleasant holiday now, couldn't he? Ron had loved that one.

Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate Harry and Hermione's quarters personally with loads of gaudy ornaments, streamers, a large Christmas tree, and had charmed an entire back wall of their common room to spell out "Happy Christmas Harry Potter!" in great electric blue lights. They'd nearly been blinded by it coming in one afternoon from classes and it took Harry nearly an hour banishing it all away, though he did leave the giant Christmas tree in a corner near the hearth, having finally charmed his face off from every ornament.

Ginny had decided to make Hermione her personal confidant with all things Draco Malfoy, and was still working at making headway with him. They had gotten closer, though he seemed to keep her at arms length whenever other Slytherin were around, or when the subject of "feelings" came into play. It angered Ginny to no end for Draco to suddenly act as if there was nothing between them when a housemate of his passed by. And the fact that he skirted easily around having to describe what he felt for her made her wonder at times if he was merely having his fun with her until he'd had his fill.

This particular Saturday evening, Hermione had sent Harry and Ron off with the premise that they needed some 'male bonding time', which neither seemed to mind as Ron immediately punched at the air grinning that Seamus and Dean had set up a Quidditch match between sixth and seventh year Gryffindors that night for fun. As soon as they left, Ginny showed up to the common room ready for conversation.

She and Hermione sat opposite each other on the soft rug in front of the fire, looking through catalogues of Madame Malkin's robes and fashion issues of Witch Weekly, discussing what they would be wearing for the ball, among other things.

"…and any time one of his housemates comes near, he immediately makes as if we're not together. Moves away from me and drops my hand. Sometimes even makes some half-arsed comment just to make me angry at him so we'll start arguing…I'm sure of it!" Declared Ginny as she held up a picture of a witch dressed in deep purple robes for Hermione to see.

"Yeah, I like that one," said Hermione absently as she thought over what Ginny had said. "Have you asked him why he does it? Why he's afraid to have anyone know you're together?"

"Not anyone," said Ginny huffily. "It doesn't matter if some Ravenclaw passes by while we're snogging outside, does it? Or some Hufflepuff while we're holding hands? It's only one's from his own house!"

"I don’t think it's that he's ashamed of you then," said Hermione reasonably, thumbing through the 'Best Dressed Celebrity Witches' section. "If it were that, he'd not want anyone seeing you together. Is there some reason he'd be afraid for any Slytherin specifically to see you've grown close?"

Ginny sighed in defeat. "I dunno. I've asked him a hundred times in a hundred different roundabout ways, but he scrubs round the question. And if I keep asking him he gets upset and we end up in a row."

"I'm sure you don't stand for that," smiled Hermione. She gasped at one picture of a witch in a sky blue velvet gown with snowflakes charmed to sparkle all down the length of it. Her slippers were clear, made of some crystal-like substance, the same colour. Ginny beamed at her.

"Found yours, have you?" she asked with a smirk. "And to answer your question, no I don't; not normally. But he seems so adamant about it that I can't imagine he's not got some good reason. Doesn't mean I don't want to know what it is though, does it?"

"You have a right to know, Gin." Said Hermione firmly. "If it were Harry, I'd be furious."

"It wouldn't be Harry though, would it?" said Ginny a bit wistfully. "He'd never do something like that…Oh don't look at me like that I don't have anything for him! I just wish Draco would think on how it makes me feel when he does that. Does make it seem as if he's a bit ashamed of me…" she ended a bit quietly.

"And if you find out that's what it is," said Hermione fiercely, suddenly looking her straight in the eyes, "No matter what dumb-arse excuse he might give you… You'd better drop him like a bad habit, you hear me Gin? You're worth much more than that. You're beautiful, intelligent, and have a great personality. You could have anyone you want; and you don't want someone who'll treat you badly."

Ginny returned the look with one of her own. "You have nothing to worry about there, Hermione. Besides the fact my brothers would shred him to a pile of wizard meat." Hermione grinned at her. "Still," continued Ginny, "I really don't think that's what this is about. I wouldn't be giving him near as much leeway on it if I believed that. I'm trying to be patient. He's got to have a reason, however mysterious it is to me, but I don't know how long I'm going to let it continue though, that's for certain."

Hermione nodded with reserve, still looking as if she thought Ginny shouldn't abide by any of it, but Ginny merely returned to thumbing through the magazines strewn on the carpet before them. She was sure whatever was going on in Draco Malfoy's head she would eventually be able to pull from him...she hoped.

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

The day of the Yule Ball approached quickly, and as with the All Hallows Eve bash, Hermione and Ginny had decided to dress together. But with Ginny's insistence that it would be great fun, Hermione had finally conceded to dress with all of the other girls in Gryffindor up in their dorms. As of this particular moment she had come to regret it.

Lavender was bemoaning the fact that she had no earrings to go with her gown, a crimson dress so covered in lace and frills that she looked as if she were headed to some rich society brothel. Both Ginny and Hermione thought it was rather too much, but Lavender had balked at the idea of charming it back a little. Parvarti, in a silk amethyst gown that trailed the floor, was currently arguing with Lavender that she needed the earrings she was wearing and that she would have to borrow some one else's. Other girls in the room, girls from Ginny's year that Hermione barely knew were whining amongst themselves as well. I'm too fat…my dress is ugly…I didn't get who I wanted to take me to the ball…my hair looks awful…I have no jewellery…etc.

Hermione, who had never grown up with other girls, and was now used to the peace and quiet of her and Harry's own rooms, began to grow annoyed at the whining and confusion of too many bodies and voices in one space. Clothes and makeup were strewn everywhere, things were being borrowed and passed around and subsequently lost amid the mess, and girls were bickering and complaining, frantically trying to get ready as they were sure their dates were downstairs waiting. Hermione thought to herself as Ginny helped zip up the back of her dress that she would never do anything like this again. The disorganisation and barely controlled chaos was beginning to drive her mad.

She turned, along with Ginny so that both could take in their reflections in the double wide mirror lining one wall of the girls dorms, and both gasped at their images.

Ginny's jade green dress had straps that fell off the shoulders, and a tight bodice that showed just the right amount of cleavage. The full skirt trailed the floor, and tiny emerald coloured gems were sown all along the length of it, getting closer and closer together as they reached the floor. Her shoes were the same colour silky jade, with around three inches of heel. The robe she wore over it was the palest shade of green she had ever seen, almost white, with shimmery trimming round the edges. Her thick red hair had been pulled into an elegant uptwist, and her lips and cheeks were tinged with red, with a hint of mascara on her lashes and a sweep of brown shadow over her eyelids. She wore tiny emerald earrings to top it off, and a thin gold chain with one green gem clasped in the middle. (Silver and green would've been too Slytherin like, Ginny had explained earlier with much sarcasm).

"I still can't believe Draco just handed me a bag of galleons and told me to pick out whatever I fancied," breathed Ginny as she twirled in the mirror. "Apparently he's not afraid at anyone seeing us at dances together, just together at everyday things… I reckon being someone's date to the Yule Ball doesn't make it appear as if you're actually dating in his eyes. Though I hope that's not what's going through his mind."

Hermione nodded her agreement, though she was half listening. Harry had done the same for her as Malfoy had done for Ginny as they had perused Hogsmeade with the rest of the fifth through seventh year students last week, although she'd had a hard time accepting it. It seemed a frivolous thing to do to spend loads of money on a gown and shoes to be worn only once, but Harry had insisted, and she had decided on the dress she'd seen advertised in the catalogue of Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions.

The sky blue of the dress slowly faded into a deeper blue as it swept the floor, and the snowflakes that seemed to be falling down the dress as if from the sky, sparkled and gleamed as if made from white crystal. Her shoes, a clear sort of substance charmed the darker blue colour, were heels around two inches high, and Ginny had helped charm very tiny glimmering snowflakes into her hair, which she'd decided to wear down and only pulled back slightly from her face. She wore the bare minimum of makeup and jewellery as usual, but a sweep of white shadow across her lids, a bit of mascara, and some barely pink gloss added to her lips gave just the right touch, along with a delicate silver chain with a small string of sapphires. Ginny smiled at her.

"You look like a princess. Harry'll drop dead when he claps eyes on you," she beamed happily as she helped Hermione into the shimmery white robe lying on the bed behind her.

Hermione's jaw continued to hang open. "I've never owned anything like this in my whole life."

"Neither have I," agreed Ginny as she twirled one last time in front of the mirror. "And I doubt I ever will again. But Carpe Diem I say, right?"

Hermione smirked at her and stepped out of the way of one frantic sixth year who'd misplaced a long white glove. "Right. Let's get then. Is Malfoy meeting you there?"

Ginny sighed wearily as they walked from the busy room and headed toward the stairs. "Yes. I think he's worried some of his housemates will start asking questions like they did after he came and picked me up from your and Harry's common room for the All Hallows Eve party. He hasn't said so, but I get the feeling he really doesn't want them assuming anything."

Hermione stopped midway down the stairs and turned to eye Ginny gravely. "Look Gin. I really don't think you should put up with that. You could do so much better. Don't let Malfoy treat you less than what you're worth."

"I don't intend to, Hermione," replied Ginny patiently. "I think something else is going on I can't see. I'm not going to let it go on for much longer. You can rest assured, if I think for one minute it's because he's ashamed of me, he'll have my Comet Two Sixty jammed so far up his arse he won't be able to see straight. So no worries, all right?"

Hermione grinned and laughed at the younger girl despite her misgivings and nodded, deciding for the moment to let the matter rest. Ginny was able to take care of herself; she'd shown herself more than capable on several occasions thus far. And in the end it would be up to her how she allowed herself to be treated.

As the two girls entered the common room, Ginny gave Hermione a wink and made her way toward the portrait door and out to head toward the Great Hall.

The common room looked like some sort of formal waiting area, littered with Gryffindor males dressed to the nines in suits and dress robes. Some were waiting patiently for their dates, others were looking quite grumpy as they yanked frustratedly on ties and jackets, and still others were looking quite green and sweaty as they fidgeted and paced, stealing nervous glances toward the staircase leading toward the girls dorms. Every now and then some girl would emerge and one boy was reprieved, with the rest sighing and settling back again to wait.

Hermione spied Harry and Ron seated in chairs near the fire. Both were sprawled out haphazardly, arms and legs thrown where ever they'd decided to land, jackets thrown behind them on the backs of the chairs and ties loosened. Both looked like they felt overdressed and under-appreciated.

She fought the urge to laugh out loud at them and rounded the back of Harry's chair. Even sitting carelessly in front of the hearth, tie hanging loosely round his neck, white button down shirt undone a bit for comfort, and black slacks now slightly wrinkled, Hermione found herself staring at his long, fit form. His black hair was still untamed and messy, and his overly green eyes behind the thin lenses seemed glossy from staring into the flames for too long, but he looked gorgeous to her. He hadn't seemed to notice she'd walked almost in front of him and it took Hermione's voice to snap him from his stupor.

She rapped lightly on the top of his skull with her knuckles, standing slightly behind his chair. "Harry, love…you still in there?"

Harry sat up, twisted round quickly, and found that he wasn't the only one in the room now staring open-mouthed at his date. A few whistles sounded behind him and he stood and gave the others one of his best 'hands off' scowls before returning his attention back to Hermione.

"Hermione…you look absolutely…I mean, just…amazing! Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts, but gods you look smashing…Beautiful, really."

Hermione had the good grace to blush, before giving Harry's now tall, standing form a once over. How could a seventeen year old manage to make standing in a tuxedo look roguishly sexy? Wasn't he supposed to come off as some sort of awkward? As not looking quite comfortable? And yet Harry stood, his weight slightly more on one foot than the other and slung his jacket over his back winking at her. She felt her knees begin to knock. He still had quite little idea the effect he had on her, damn it…

Ron stood and gave her a peck on the cheek, managing to look quite handsome himself. He'd tamed his hair much more effectively than Harry had. "You do look wonderful, 'Mione… Any idea when my date's coming down? For the love of Godric, I swear I've been waiting for an hour now."

Hermione laughed at him. "She was almost dressed when Ginny and I left. Shouldn't be too much longer."

Ron scanned the room over Hermione's head. "Ginny? Where is she, then?"

"Left a few minutes ago," said Harry. "Walked right past you. Didn't you see her?"

"Obviously not. Did she leave with the ferret then?" asked Ron darkly. "Can't see how I missed that."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Ginny and he decided to meet there…Now hang on before you go off…"

"WHAT!?" barked Ron so loudly that Seamus and Dean turned to stare at them. "You mean he didn't have the frickin' decency to come get her from here!?"

"Calm down Ron!" hissed Hermione frustratedly. "Ginny's got a good head on her shoulders. She knows what she's doing…"

"So do I," Ron seethed dangerously as he whipped his wand from his robes and proceeded to stomp towards the portrait door.

"Ron hang on," said Harry exasperatedly, grabbing onto his arm. Ron stopped but whirled to give Harry a very dirty scowl. "You can't just go off trying to blast Malfoy when things don't suit you between them! Ginny's got to decide things for herself."

"Easy for you to say, Harry. That's not your sister being treated like shit out there, is it!?"

Harry frowned slightly at him. "She's as good as, mate. And you know it."

Ron continued to scowl at him, breathing heavily, but finally dropped his arm. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry Harry. But I don't like Ginny being treated like that. She deserves more."

"She knows how it seems Ron," said Hermione placing a hand on his arm. "But she's got a good handle on things. She won't let herself be treated wrong. You know that."

Ron smirked. "Yeah I do, I guess."

The Great Hall was decorated to resemble a sort of ballroom of old, with large floating candle chandeliers hanging from the bewitched ceiling, now glowing with a fuzzy moon, very dark grey clouds, and a whirlwind of snowflurries. Great Christmas trees, once again decorated with live fairies glowing different pastel colours, stood in every corner. Great long silvery streamers hung from the walls, icicles hung magically from the large windowsills, and live snowmen greeted students as they came in.

The impossibly long tables used as house tables for the Hall, now lined the walls, covered in refreshments and pumpkin punch, being constantly fussed over by one or more house elves. Some of the earlier arriving couples were already dancing slowly to the WWN Dumbledore had charmed to sound throughout, and the professors who were dressed nicely themselves in festive looking robes were all on hand here and there, mingling with each other or manning tables as chaperones.

Ron greeted the snowman on his left gruffly, having already taken in the image of Ginny below, dancing with a distinctly stiff Draco Malfoy. Lavender pouted neatly beside him.

"Ron, just for tonight let's forget about your sister and have fun, just you and I."

Ron eyed her more harshly than he'd intended too. "She's my sister, Lav! I can't just forget about her! She's being used!"

"You don't know that," said Harry with Hermione from behind the two.

Ron turned to look at him. "I don't, do I!? How else do you explain the fact he wouldn't come get her from the common room tonight? Or the fact he doesn't want any of his mates knowing he fancies her!?"

Hermione instantly looked alarmed. "What?…How did you…I mean, I didn't tell…"

Ron rolled his eyes at her and then planted his gaze back on the couple below them. "Aw come off it, 'Mione. I watch them closer than anyone else here, don't I?"

"I'm surprised you haven't turned him into a newt by now then," said Harry with a frown.

"It's not for lack of wanting too," said Ron begrudgingly. "But if I did Ginny'd never speak to me again. I do have to let her handle it…for now."

Ron's last words left the distinct feeling about him that he hadn't let go of it by a long shot, nevertheless, the four entered the 'ballroom' and immediately set to dancing and having fun. More and more couples joined them soon, and by the time eight o'clock rolled around, the hall was teeming with young formally dressed witches and wizards.

"…and the most gorgeous by far, Miss Hermione Granger," finished Harry, grinning as he twirled Hermione outward and then caught her back to himself.

Hermione beamed up at him. "You clean up well yourself there. And you're not half-biased, are you?"

"Not a bit," said Harry with a mock look of annoyance. "Completely impartial."

"Right."

Harry smirked at her in that charming, roguish way that made her heart turn over, and Hermione felt herself giving into him once again. He held her so close, the distinct aroma of wind and outdoors and everything feverishly Harry about him. His soft, full lips brushed hers and she intensified the kiss, tangling her fingers in the fine hair that swept his nape. She never could seem to get enough of him…

Gods she tasted like Elysian Fields, some sort of honeyed utopia he couldn't get enough of, even with all the times he'd fallen into her before. Harry felt the familiar drunken desire beginning to well up in him and decided to himself that he'd do better to just hold her for now, lest they end up in a full blown snog that embarrassed the hell out of everyone else.

He pulled back from her somewhat dizzily and turned his head slightly to see Ron, dancing closely with Lavender, leering at him and giving him a suggestive wink and thumbs up. He blushed a bit and turned back to Hermione.

"Er, love…much as I love kissing you…I don't think I'll be able to control myself if we keep on."

She followed his gaze and saw Ron waggling his tongue brazenly at them while Lavender did her best to admonish him. Hermione gave him her best 'sod off' glower and returned her attention back to Harry.

"It's all right. I feel the same. Can't help it if your devastatingly handsome now, can you?"

"And now who's biased?" said Harry with a surprised grin as he held her even closer.

"I resent the insinuation," said Hermione with a cock of one eyebrow. "I've always been an extremely unprejudiced judge of your overall…package."

Harry leered at her in much the same way Ron had and lowered his voice an octave. "My package? We still talking about the same thing, 'Mione?"

He'd expected her to punch him for the insinuation, but Hermione merely returned the look. "I mean that I personally think your outside is as beautiful as your inside. And as for your package…I haven't yet had the privilege of unwrapping it, have I?"

Harry's jaw dropped and he grinned at her. "You'll never stop surprising me, will you?"

Hermione looked pleased with herself as she let Harry dip her in a silly, overly-proper way.

"And I rather think that when the time comes, we'll be unwrapping presents together, don't you?" he whispered down into her ear. "I can't wait to see mine."

Hermione turned three shades of bright red as he lifted her back upright.

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

From the other side of the ballroom, Ginny looked up at Draco as he swayed with her and caught a slideshow of indecipherable emotions crossing his face. He'd been stiff and almost awkward with her the whole night. Anytime one of his housemates passed by he made sure to hold her at arms length, and even acted at times as if he felt he would be glad when the whole thing was over. His attitude was beginning to grate on her, and Ginny felt, as Theodore Nott passed with his date, and Draco stopped looking at her to find one of the snack tables interesting, that she'd rather had enough.

"If you're having such a horrible time why'd you ask me in the first place?" She whispered angrily above the song that had just come on the WWN. The station had decided to play some of the older, more famous Muggle Christmas songs this year, and the American Bing Crosby's low voice flowed smooth as melted butter into the Great Hall.

*I'll be home for Christmas…You can plan on me…*

Malfoy blinked a couple of times before her words sank in. "What? What're you on about?"

"You!" said Ginny, setting her jaw. "All night long you've been distant and strange with me. 'Specially when one of your damn Slytherin friends pass by."

Draco pulled her to him closer and looked down at her fiercely. "They most certainly are not my friends, Red. You know that."

*Please have snow, and mistletoe…and presents 'neath the tree…*

Ginny sighed and put her arms round his shoulders. "Then why d'you care what they think?"

She felt Draco stiffen again but he brought a hand up to smooth a flaming red lock of hair back behind her ear that had fallen out of Ginny's upsweep. "I did tell you how smashing you look tonight, didn't I? Green is definitely your colour. You look like a jewel… Makes me want to wear you."

*Christmas Eve will find me…*

Ginny's eyes rounded at his obvious intimation but she decided she wouldn't be swayed off topic. "Mmmm…sort of like Harry's eyes, right?"

Draco's eyes flashed and he suddenly held her at arms length. "What? You got some thing for Scarhead? What's going on with you two!? One witch not enough for him!?"

Ginny smirked triumphantly. "Of course I don't have something for him, but I did just get you to stop play-acting now, didn't I? Now maybe you'll answer my question."

Draco scowled at her. "Not very nice of you, Red."

"No, it wasn't," said Ginny. "Now answer my question."

*Where the love light gleams…I'll be home for Christmas…*

"Which one was that?" asked Draco innocently as he twirled her outward and then brought her back in.

Ginny gritted her teeth in aggravation. "The one where I asked you why you care what your classmates think of you and I?…if you can remember that far back…"

Malfoy smiled down at her. He loved when she got feisty with him. "What makes you think I do?"

He really was infuriating her now, and Ginny was on the verge of leaving him alone on the floor. She'd finally had enough. "Oh, I dunno… Maybe it's the fact that whenever one of them comes near it's as if you feel absolutely nothing for me…or maybe its that sometimes you actually start a fight with me so that it'll appear as if it's just another Weasley-Malfoy row going on…or it could be that you won't hold my hand or kiss me anywhere near a Slytherin…"

Ginny's voice had begun to raise in pitch at the last sentence and Draco began to look alarmed. He stopped dancing at once and gripped her by the top of her arms. "Not so loud! You want the whole school hearing you!? Be quiet for god's sake!"

*If only in my dreams…*

Ginny stopped, breathing hard, eyes flaming with fury and hurt and wrenched her arms away from him. She stared hard at him for a few moments and then turned and began striding purposefully out from the Hall, obviously sure that he was going to follow. He did.

When they'd gotten to the great oak double doors of the castle and wrenched them apart, Ginny met him at the bottom of the steps, her eyes shining with angry tears.

"All right." Her voice was very steady, but low pitched and whispery as if she couldn't trust herself to use it fully. "You'll tell me what's going on right now, or we're through. You hear me?"

Draco gave her his best scowl. "I don't take well to ultimatums, Red."

*Christmas Eve will find me…* Drifted out muffled from inside the castle.

"That's too bad," said Ginny, enunciating every word clearly. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know NOW."

Malfoy stared at her for a few moments, those infuriatingly unreadable emotions crossing over his face again. He swallowed roughly.

Ginny cleared her throat to keep her voice steady and spoke quietly. "Are you ashamed of me?"

Draco looked confused. "Ashamed…"

"Of me, yes," said Ginny clearly. "…Am I too poor for you? Is that it? Not high-class enough for a Malfoy?"

"What!?" said Draco, angrily. "That what kind of wizard you think I am, Weasley? Equating me with my father now, are you!?"

*Where the love light gleams…*

"What other explanation have you given me!?" asked Ginny hotly. "I don’t know what to think anymore! I've let it go for too long and now I want the truth!"

Draco screwed up his face and hesitated. He was going to hate himself in the morning. "Truth is that I have my reasons…and that's all you need to know for now."

Ginny backed from him and crossed her arms over her chest, instantly telling him she was cutting herself off from him. That had done it. He'd lost her now and he knew it.

"You know me better than that by now, I think." Ginny's breathing became more laboured and she spoke dangerously low. "You don't seriously think I'm all right with that, do you?"

*I'll be home for Christmas…*

Malfoy hesitated again. He knew she expected answers from him, but they were answers he wasn't willing to give. The answers would be worse for her than what had brought on the questions. He knew his next words would drive her completely from him, but hadn't he known all along it wouldn't last? He'd known. Trying to mix a Weasley with a Malfoy was like trying to successfully merge oil and water. It was never going to happen.

He answered her last question steadily. "No…I don't."

Ginny looked a bit stunned and stood, shifting uncomfortably, blinking quietly as if willing her eyes to keep from betraying her with tears. She just continued to stare at him until he felt almost burned by her gaze and could no longer meet it. He stared at the ground, hating life, hating himself, most of all, hating his last name…

*If only in my dreams…*

Then Ginny gave off a very soft derisive laugh at herself and began to sweep past him back up the steps and into the castle. He heard her mumble through sobs as she passed.

"What was I thinking…"

The huge oak door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, and Draco suddenly began to notice the snowflakes falling over him. The wind whistled round the corners of the castle, a thin layer of ice covering the lake shone dully to him as the moonshine hit it, and he watched apathetically as the wind began to blow layers of snow from the heavy bows of the surrounding trees. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his robes, and as the icy wind seeped through his robes and suit, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather clutched hold of his heart once again.

Alone again, Draco thought to himself. Just as I knew I would be.

*If only in my dreams.*

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

Much later that night, after the ball had gone on for another two hours and ended, after Hermione had tried consoling a distraught Ginny who'd shown up to their common room at around midnight, and after Harry and Hermione had already changed back into their regular clothes, Harry finally sat with Hermione to compose a letter to Sirius. Christmas was only a week away now, and they knew the sooner they were able to ask him to join them, the longer he would have to get used to the idea of seeing them again.

Every sentence he wrote, Harry turned to eye Hermione for approval, and she suggested small changes here and there when she found it necessary.

They headed straight away down the dark cold hallways toward Dumbledore's office where they knew the Headmaster, himself a night owl, would still be awake. Dumbledore took the letter from them, bade them a good night, and promised them he'd floo it straight away to Sirius.

Fifteen minutes later in London, Sirius sat on his couch at Grimmauld Place in front of the hearth, still clutching the letter he'd received some ten minutes ago with shaky hands. He'd recognised the untidy scrawl his name was written in immediately. Harry.

Thinking to himself that it did him no good to prolong the inevitable, Sirius slit the envelope open and began to read with his heart thudding against his ribs.

Dear Sirius,

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

Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

The black steam billowing in great clouds from the smokestack of the Hogwarts Express mingled with the spinning snowfall as Harry, Hermione and Lupin stood together at a bustling Hogsmeade Station. Ron, Ginny and Lavender Brown, who had been invited to spend Christmas holidays with the Weasleys, were currently in the process of hauling their trolleys over to the baggage handlers who looked slightly overwhelmed with the luggage of over two hundred Hogwarts students, currently milling about and boarding the train in a mass of barely controlled madness. Although there were still noticeably less students this year, the workers managed to seem grumpy, despite the lesser work load.

Ron neared the three after leaving his luggage with a handler, breathing on his cold chapped hands and smirking at a shivering Hermione who was nearly wrapped invisible with Harry in his heavy black, winter robes. All he could see of her was a cold pink nose, a pair of large brown eyes, and a mop of corkscrew curls that Harry was having a hard time keeping the wind from blowing into his mouth.

"And here I thought 'Mione cared enough to see us off," deadpanned Ron as he glanced round Harry and Lupin. Ginny and Lavender trotted up beside him having dispensed of their loads as well. "Nice of her not to show, wasn't it?"

Ginny saw a pair of large brown eyes narrow at her brother from under Harry's chin and smiled. Lupin laughed and Harry chuckled, giving a slight 'oomph' as Hermione jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ron, you know I'm here you great prat," came Hermione's muffled voice. "Now come here you two so we can send you off proper."

Ron and Ginny neared and Hermione untangled herself from Harry and his robes long enough for the both of them and Lupin to hug the two goodbye, and bid Lavender a good holiday.

Hermione held Ginny close for a few moments and whispered in her ear. "Please try to have a happy Christmas Gin. You'll be with your wonderful family…all those other redheads that love you so much! Try thinking on that."

Ginny pulled back from her and gave a sad smile before answering her just as quietly. "And what would you say if the situation were reversed and it was Harry who'd broken with you?"

Hermione paused and tucked a strand of Ginny's thick red hair back behind her winter hat. "I'd tell me to sod off."

Ginny gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin and hugged Hermione again. "I know you're trying to help. Just knowing you're there to talk to is enough."

"You can owl me anytime while you and Ron are away, you know that."

Ginny nodded. "I know."

The shrill whistle from behind the six and the conductor's bellow of "All aboard!" told them the Express was moments away from beginning its journey.

Ron took Lavender's hand and nodded to Ginny, who seemed now to be staring morosely past him at something nearer the train.

"Well mates, Professor Lupin," said Ron backing towards the train and deciding in Lavender's presence to keep Harry's fathers' identity a secret. "I guess we'll be off. See you after holidays. Christmas won't be the same without you, Harry. Mum's already had a solid cry and we've not even got there yet without you."

Harry grinned fondly and called after him. "Give her a peck for me, mate! I'll most likely see her at graduation, I expect."

"Right!" called Ron with a grin as he ushered Ginny and Lavender ahead of him onto the train and hopped the first step toward the doorway. The attendant was motioning him inside a bit agitatedly as the train had already begun its first sluggish pull down the tracks. "See you soon! Give Padfoot a good thump from me! Bye 'Mione, wherever you've got to!"

Hermione knew he was referring to the fact that she was once again swimming in Harry's cloak with him, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She'd seen where Ginny had been looking a bit earlier as Ron had been saying his goodbyes; seen the tall, blonde-headed form of Draco Malfoy slumped dejectedly, peering unhappily back at her from the entrance of the train, his hands shoved into his pockets, breath billowing out in front of him smoky white in the cold. She'd also seen him turn away quickly and head through the entrance, most likely to find a compartment to hide in by himself; headed home for the holidays as well.

Hermione had seen Lavender follow her gaze and give her a quick searching glance, but she was sure Harry and Ron hadn't noticed anything. Men could be so oblivious sometimes.

She hoped for Ginny's sake that some sort of naturalness could be worked out between them soon, pushing down her own underlying feeling of relief that Ginny was no longer with the Slytherin. Hermione knew she had no right to judge the 'book' by its cover, and yet the thought still nagged her mind that the farther away from Draco and his father Ginny stayed, the safer she was.

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

Sirius swept long dark hair from his face and bending forward at his kitchen table, put quill to parchment with a shaky hand. After a few moments of staring at the words 'Dear Harry and…' he lowered the quill once again, letting his fatigue reddened eyes close and his head drop wearily into one hand.

He'd experienced such a hailstorm of emotions during the past month that he'd almost not been able to think straight. Not long after the meeting with James and Harry he'd disconnected them from his floo network, needing time to sort things out in his own mind before hearing from them again. He'd wept countless nights over the loss of Remus Lupin, lain awake tossing and turning over the thought that he'd had James with him the entire time and not known it, and had grown angrier and angrier at his so-called best friend for having kept him in the dark for the past sixteen years.

Oh it'd been easy enough to reason out why James had done what he had; Harry's safety, and even Sirius' own welfare had probably been the biggest, most obvious factors, with the preservation of James' own life coming in almost last on his list if Sirius knew him at all. But still, the thought that his best friend, more of a brother if the truth be told, had lied to him over and over again for so many years; not to mention the fact that he'd let him believe that another close friend who had died was still alive, kept him tossing and turning on wave after wave of confusion for countless hours.

He'd begun dreaming again of the night Lily and James were murdered. A time he'd finally been able to hide away into the back recesses of his mind after so many years, had snuck back up into his consciousness as quickly and certainly as a thief, stealing his thoughts again; bringing back feelings of emptiness and pain, and most of all, overwhelming guilt. Well he remembered the nights he'd spent in Azkaban having the same awful dreams over and over; visions of their deaths and baby Harry alone in his crib all night long, watching over the dead bodies lying before him, ran through his head like some mental horror film. The regret had eaten his joy away more than the dementors could have ever done.

He'd been away the night Voldemort had struck. Lupin and he had been taking turns staying with James, Lily and Harry those final days, because of the looming threat they had been sensing. Had it been his night with the Potters, perhaps he would be the one now lying in the ground. Perhaps Remus' life could've been spared, maybe even Lily's. Maybe he would've been a stronger opponent for Voldemort than Remus had been. Remus had always been the smarter one in school, that much was true, but Sirius had always had the upper hand at duelling. What might've changed that night?

And Harry…gods that boy had already been through enough despair to last two lifetimes. He'd lost his parents, lost any type of loving family and support he could've come to know, and then been thrust into the hell and abuse that defined the Dursley household. He'd never known love, respect, or kindness until he'd come to Hogwarts and met the few that cared for him, and even then he wasn't granted reprieve. Because then he was made to endure constant threats on his life from Voldemort and constant pressure to be some sort of saviour to some of the wizarding world, while at the same time having to fear ridicule, unbelief, and slander from others. How might Harry's life have turned out differently if Sirius had been around to take care of him instead of in Azkaban? Molly Weasley had inadvertently brought that fact to his attention during a row two years ago and he'd not forgot it since.

And yet of all the guilt and pain that weighed on him like some cement block hung round his neck, he was sure none of it compared to the agony James must feel; for Remus, Lily, and for Harry. And the continuing heartbreak he must be going through having to try to build a relationship with a son he barely knew, and who barely knew him.

In that moment of clarity, Sirius decided that he owed it to himself, his friendship with James, the memory of Remus Lupin, and most of all Harry, to try.

With a steadier hand than before, Sirius dipped the nib of his quill into the clay inkpot next to him and began to scratch out his reply.

And with that, Sirius walked to his hearth, and flooed his letter straight to Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster got it straightaway, with a twinkle in his eye that said he felt something was finally going to be put right.

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

Draco Malfoy sat stoically in the very back of his father's immaculately shined limousine and peered with dull grey eyes through the blowing snow as the driver turned down number 66 Hawthorn Way, where loomed at the end, the museum-like estate of Malfoy Manor.

A cold, rigid looking mansion towered smooth cream and grey, taller than all others down the stately area, surrounded by very even, very formal gardens, and a tall ominous looking black wrought iron gate with the Malfoy crest imperiously set above it. Lucius had designed it that way. Lofty and unyielding with almost cruelly straight lines; the house was his father put to stone design. Draco cringed inwardly as the chauffeur drove them through the gates that magically swung open.

Much like Harry Potter, although Draco would never admit it, he loathed having to come back to his 'home' during holidays and summers. Though most of the time he was given free reign of the place, what with his father out taking care of god knew what, and his mother most likely off at one of her esteemed 'rich witch' social functions, he found himself almost always starved for company. There were times when he would've taken Crabbe and Goyle's unintelligent blather over the emptiness and quiet.

Narcissa had hired servants, but they'd been trained to be silent and have little to no personality about them while going about their chores. It was more like having a house full of zombies than people. He'd grown up with most of them, but could count the conversations he'd had with them over his seventeen years on his two hands, barring his nanny. But she'd been cold and impersonal, and at times even cruel.

Yet, Draco reminisced with a shudder, he would've taken her cruelty any day over his father's. With his permanent sneer, and general disdain for anything Draco tried to accomplish outside of his own express orders, he was the epitome of everything cold, distant, and hard. Well could he remember the beatings he'd gotten from his father for making low marks in school, disobeying him indirectly, or failing to complete some task to his exact liking. He'd learned not to cry out at an early age; it only served to fuel his father's rage even more. After all, a real wizard took his punishment and learned from it, he didn't run off to squeal like a young witch, did he?

He exited the car and walked toward the great solid wood door without a backward glance at the driver. He fixed his facial expression by instinct before he even put his hand to the knob…aloof, in control, and tough as steel. Lucius Malfoy would take no less.

Draco strode into the massive foyer and was quickly relieved, if only for a moment, that no one was there waiting for him. A round polished mahogany table always laden with fresh flowers as per Narcissa, no matter the season, stood regally in the centre of a large marble floor. An intricate winding staircase loomed directly behind, and to the left, the archway that led to an impeccable dining room with white carpet, and two large crystal chandeliers hanging over an incredibly long mahogany dinner table laden with silver ornamentals; a table that more often than not, he usually sat at alone. The corners of Draco's mouth held a slight frown. Such opulence, all for nothing. It wasn't as if his parents were often there. The house and all of its rooms and riches were merely status symbols. This is how the Malfoy's were expected to live. And yet, the house, with all of the worldly comforts one could possibly ever hope to have, had a depressing, forlorn feel about it. It seemed whenever Draco came home he could almost hear the place mourning, echoing its lack of warmth.

"Draco."

A smooth, glacial voice sounded from behind him, and Malfoy stiffened inwardly as if his heart had just been frozen. He fixed his face and turned to greet the impeccably dressed wizard, hatred coursing through his veins like ice water.

"Hello father."

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

Hermione, with her nose currently stuck in the folds of a thick book, could almost feel Harry continuing to pace across the room. It was December 24^th, Christmas Eve, and the castle was deserted save them, the Headmaster, and the few professors who'd chosen to stay behind.

She and Harry were currently standing in Dumbledore's office, which he'd kindly offered to abandon to them as Sirius was now due to arrive. He'd felt Black might feel more comfortable if only Harry and Hermione were there to greet him initially. Harry'd been inclined to agree, and he and Hermione now stood waiting for the great whoosh that would signal his godfather's arrival.

Hermione glanced up from the volume she'd snagged from one of Dumbledore's large bookcases and gave a small sigh. Harry was pretending to scan the books as well, but was giving himself away by fidgeting and pacing. He was currently chewing the nails on his right hand to nubs, something he rarely did, and Hermione felt he was trying to keep his mouth occupied rather than voice his fears.

"Harry…"

"Mmm, what?" said Harry quickly, whirling to face Hermione and quickly glancing past her at Dumbledore's hearth. No Sirius yet…

Hermione smiled tenderly at him and put her book down, walking over and reaching her hands up to his face. She turned his gaze to hers.

"He'll be fine love," said Hermione softly.

Harry frowned. "I know that..I know…" But he said it a bit too earnest to be taken seriously.

"Do you?" She smiled.

Harry relaxed beneath her touch and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment. She knew him too well. "I just want him to feel part of us, you know? I want him to be happy. For him to get his best friend back… I just want everything to be all right." He turned his head to kiss one of her palms.

"I know," she whispered, pulling him into a hug which he sagged into gratefully. She buried her face in his chest, taking in his scent, and Harry dropped a kiss on her hair, lingering there; the scent of honeyed berries blanketing him in comfort once again.

A whoosh of greyish debris suddenly littered the hearth, and Harry quickly turned Hermione around to face the fireplace with him, though still holding her tightly against his chest.

A decidedly soot-covered Sirius, dressed in a long, slightly ragged black cloak an a pair of black Muggle trousers ducked out from the hearth, shaking grey and black ash from his clothes and mane of shaggy hair much as Padfoot would've done.

"That could do with a good 'scourgifying'," said Sirius with a thumb jabbing behind him at the floo. He favoured Harry and Hermione with a small but warm smile. "Hullo you lot."

Hermione felt Harry grinning behind her and decided to step out of his embrace to encourage him to move forward.

Sirius and Harry met each other mid-stride in a warm handshake and quick hug.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," said Harry, beaming. "Wouldn't have been Christmas without you."

Sirius paused, a bit of sentiment stealing across his face at Harry's warmth. When he next spoke his voice was a bit gruff with emotion. "W…well, couldn't stand being holed up in the old Black estate over holidays, you know."

"I can well imagine," Harry nodded in understanding. "Have your trunk with you, then?"

"Shrunk it," said Sirius, patting his cloak pocket, which sounded a bit with the clanking together of objects. "Got some other things as well," he added with a wink.

He turned his gaze toward Hermione who was smiling with unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

"And you," he smiled, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You seem to have gotten more beautiful every time I clap eyes on you."

Harry faked a scowl and placed hands on his hips. "Putting the moves on my girl?"

Hermione managed a choked laugh, while Sirius grinned like a fool. "Best keep a close eye on this one, Harry. Some bloke'll come round and steal her right from under you, ugly thing that you are."

"Won't be you, will it?" replied Harry without missing a beat. "Ugly and old."

Both began to laugh and Hermione scoffed as she headed toward the spiral staircase that was now leading downward toward the ugly gargoyles guarding the office's entrance.

"C'mon let's get, then. Couple of idiot nits, the both of you."

Sirius grin stretched wider as he and Harry followed her down the staircase and out of the office, toward the head boy and girls dorms.

"So much like you're mum its downright scary," whispered Sirius to Harry as they trudged dutifully behind her. "Even scolds like her."

"I can hear you, you know," said Hermione from ahead with a hint of humour in her voice.

They'd decided, before Sirius had got there, to wait on taking him to see James, and as Harry watched Sirius visibly relax having realised they were leading him to their common room, he decided he, Hermione and James had made the right decision. There would be plenty of time over the week he would be there for Sirius and James to reacquaint themselves, and Harry'd thought it best for Sirius to get as comfortable as possible with the idea first. The others had agreed, and had decided to give Sirius the option of staying in Harry's room for the week while he bunked with Hermione, or taking Gryffindor tower.

Hermione was least surprised with Sirius decision as he scanned their quarters with approving grunts. He'd probably love staying in a place with others. Being in Gryffindor tower all by himself would most likely remind him too much of the loneliness of the Black Estate. He'd come here to escape that, Hermione knew.

"I'd like to stay here I think, Harry. If it won't be too much of an inconvenience for you two."

Harry looked a bit surprised but agreed. "No, not at all. I'll just bunk with 'Mione."

Sirius gave him an odd look, and Harry quickly realised how the situation must sound to him. He immediately began to stutter.

"W..well I…that is, it's not how it sounds…You see…we've been sleeping together…I mean…NO! That's not what I meant…" Harry shifted from one leg to the other, gesturing with hands that suddenly felt like comical rubbery things. Hermione had turned a deep shade of magenta.

Sirius tried hard to keep from laughing and held up a hand. "Harry! What you two do or don't is none of my concern! You're of age now, aren't you? I don't presume anything, you know…"

"As well you shouldn't!" said Harry with conviction. "We…we're not…"

"Absolutely not!" squeaked Hermione vigorously, flushing a deep scarlet. "We're not…not yet…"

"Really you two. It's none of my business. I think nothing of any of it, all right?" said Sirius firmly. "Maybe I should stay in Gryffindor tower. I don't mind."

Harry and Hermione, sharing quick looks of deepest embarrassment, shook their heads.

"No," said Harry. "I'd like you here with us. Really, I would."

Sirius looked thoughtful. "We'll decide it later." He turned toward the large, decorated fir tree Dobby had set in the corner of their common room for them near the blazing hearth, and smiled easily. "Well, you've even got a tree, have you? Got some things for it, then."

And as Sirius fished in his pocket and pulled out a handful of tiny wrapped boxes, the tension and embarrassment in the room dissipated. He began righting the gifts to their original sizes with an engorgement charm and placing them gleefully under the tree, his face shining like that of a child's on Christmas morning.

Harry frowned at him as he and Hermione sat on the couch in front of the fire. "Hang on… how've you been able to shop for Christmas? You haven't been out and around, have you!?"

Hermione gasped, clearly upset. "Oh Sirius how could you!? It isn't safe! I can't believe after all the times you've nearly been spotted before… and you can't buy gifts in your animagus form, can you!? What did you do, then!?"

Sirius waved a hand at them. "Settle down, you two. I haven't been anywhere, unfortunately. I sent my list to Dumbledore, and he sent Snivellus out to Hogsmeade to do my shopping for me. I'm sure he appreciated the opportunity to help me out…" Sirius ended with a wicked chuckle.

"Oh…" Hermione let out a relieved sigh and relaxed against Harry, who was now chuckling along with his godfather.

"Sure he did, just like he would a good hex on his privates…" Harry grinned. "Has to help out dad as well with his wolfsbane potions. He's well pissed with that…" But Harry had suddenly noticed Sirius posture stiffen and realised what he'd done.

Sirius turned from his task a bit pale and moved to sit in the plush arm chair next to the couch near them with a shaky sigh, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Harry mentally berated himself. How could he've slipped like that!? Gods, after what Sirius had already been through just getting up the nerve to come here…

"Sirius…I'm sorry. It's not as if you're not choked enough without my banging on about…well…"

"No Harry," said Sirius quickly. "You've got every right to mention your own father. It's just something I've got to get used to, is all. It's just…hearing him mentioned… in a state of being alive, and moving and talking and breathing and… just being… It's a bit like being punched hard in the gut; takes the wind out of me. Don't know how else to explain it."

Harry grimaced. That was perfectly describing it in his book. "No need to explain. I understand perfectly. Still going through it a bit myself, you know."

Sirius nodded and then shook his head at himself, leaning forward on his knees to stare at the floor. "And now I should apologise to you. I'm sorry, Harry. Have to remind myself sometimes that this didn't happen only to me. Probably harder on you than it could ever be on me, I reckon."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, feeling slightly uneasy and at a loss for words. "I…I don't know."

An awkward silence followed before Hermione finally spoke up quietly. "Well…now you both know you can help each other, don't you?"

Sirius, staring into the flames, smiled with an ironic upcurving of his lips. "You have a smart witch there, Harry. She's one I'd keep round, I think."

Harry saw Hermione blush from the corner of his eye and pulled her onto his lap between his thighs, giving her a kiss on the temple and smoothing her curls back from her face affectionately. She sighed blissfully and snuggled back against him, burying her face in the soft crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms round her and held her close; one hand resting on the back of her head with the other on her hip. He felt her plant a soft kiss on his nape and melted into contentment, closing his eyes.

"Yeah…think I will," he said softly, not sure later whether he'd said it out loud or not.

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

Draco immediately recognised the once-over his father was giving him; sizing him up from his stance to his demeanour to his body language in a matter of only seconds. His cold grey eyes, always scrutinising him from above an uplifted, aristocratic nose and stern chin, swept every inch of him, shaking him from the inside, though Draco never gave any indication of it. Any sign of weakness would be punishable, so Draco had learned early, no matter what state he felt himself in, to always exude confidence and a cold detachment.

Satisfied for now, Lucius addressed his son. "Back for the holidays, are we?"

"I am," replied Draco stiffly.

"Good," said Lucius stonily with the subtle raise of one silvery eyebrow. "I trust you've been excelling in your studies, what with N.E.W.T.s coming round. I expect nothing below an E in any of your classes. We wouldn't want the embarrassment of presenting the dark lord with a half-witted apprentice, now would we?"

Draco's stomach felt suddenly as if it'd shrivelled down to nothing but a hard, cold lump of fear. He showed none of it and raised his chin haughtily.

" 'Course not, father."

Lucius paused for effect before accepting his son's response. "Udolphus has taken your things, then?"

Draco nodded, knowing full well the driver/butler would have already unloaded the boot of the limo and placed his trunk in his room.

Lucius inclined his head coolly at his son. "Your mother is currently off on one of her long socialite functions I gather, from what Eleanor tells me. So for the next week, it'll be just you and I round the house. I expect we'll be seeing a bit of one another."

Draco's stiff posture wavered for a moment and his gaze shot up to meet his father's. He'd fully expected his mother not to be there. She never was. But he'd hoped his father would be away as well for most of the time, on some business venture, or some Death Eaters meeting. Anything to keep him away long enough so that Draco wouldn't have to see him.

At the same time this thought hit him, Draco found himself mentally picturing his mother's latest 'social endeavour'. He wondered who it was this time. Perhaps Berkeley Wilson, the filthy rich owner of Wilson's Wizarding Travel Company; he'd seen them getting cosy on more than one occasion during one of the Malfoy's famed parties. Or maybe she'd chosen to take up with Nott's father again; Theodore had said his mother was out of town.

It was almost amusing the lengths Lucius and Narcissa went to avoiding the issue of their own infidelity. Although it'd been going on for as long as Draco could remember, they never acknowledged it openly. Such was the life of the rich, beneficial, and socially dominant marriage. Stray all you like, but stay together for the power.

But shit, did Lucius have to be here, now? Draco actually wanted to be alone after what'd happened with Ginny… She'd been the first genuine person he'd ever really experienced…

Lucius studied his son through narrow, suspicious eyes. "Is there a problem, Draco?"

Draco's heart stuttered in its beating for a moment, and he mentally raged at himself. Don't show him anything, idiot! You want him suspicious!? Keep your cool!

"No father, of course not," lied Draco evenly. "I just assumed you'd be away on business. It's so rare these days we're able to spend any time together."

Funny it never crossed Lucius mind to doubt his son ever had anything but an awesome respect for him, Draco thought as his father continued.

"Under the circumstances I would not normally be here at all," said Lucius with a sneer. "If I were seen outside of this house, I'd be arrested for the attacks done at Hogwarts some months ago. Dumbledore suspects me." He smiled icily, a deadly glitter in his grey gaze. "He's right to do so. I did attack Filch, Pot…(he paused and cleared his throat..no need for Draco to know too much)…Lupin and the Granger mudblood. But all with good reason."

Draco blinked at him. "Why?"

"It is enough for you to know it was necessary," answered Lucius with a voice of steel. "The dark lord has need of me now more than ever. He'll soon have the Potter boy on his knees, begging for mercy, his friends broken before him on the ground. And after, with me as his chief advisor and right hand, the whole of the world, wizard and Muggle alike, will feel the crush of his fist as he rules supreme."

Draco stared at Lucius, a death-like chill creeping up his spine. It was just then, when the elder Malfoy had made a fist to further purvey his point, that Draco had noticed the large, golden hand. The sound of those fingers closing tightly around the palm had sounded like the swift snap of a bone, such was the power in his grip.

Lucius followed his son's gaze and smiled coldly. "It won't be long before you'll understand first hand what it is to be in his illustrious service."

Draco lifted his head as if he felt honoured by this, but his insides roiled with loathing. No way in hell is You-know-who getting his damn talons sunk in me…

"And now," said Lucius, "There are a few things that have been brought to my attention as of late…"

Draco's stomach lurched. Oh my god…he knows…

"Follow me into the livingroom," continued Lucius quietly. "We'll be more comfortable there."

Draco's lungs suddenly squeezed uncomfortably in his chest, and he followed his father toward the livingroom as if he were being led toward the gallows. Did he know?… Had one of his housemates said something to their father?…One of Lucius' Death Eater associates?…

If this was the case, Malfoy knew he was in for a long night…if he survived it.

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

Soft moonlight filtered through the half-moon window above the closed crimson drapes in Hermione's room, bathing she and Harry in the dim glow as they lay facing each other. They had stayed awake talking with Sirius for the better part of two hours since he'd finished setting himself up in Harry's room, and they'd finally decided when midnight had rolled round to drag themselves to bed and finish catching up in the morning.

Harry continued to stroke Hermione's face, so close under the warm blankets, his arms and legs tangled with hers, whispering his commitment to her as the quiet and dark often effected him to. His intense green gaze burned into hers, lips only inches away, mumbling nonsensical, affectionate things. Both kept stealing kisses from the other that quickly turned into full blown snogging. These moments away from everyone else were theirs to take advantage of. It became harder and harder each time to sleep them away.

"You were good with Sirius tonight," Harry whispered to Hermione as his eyes raked her face.

"I was?" answered Hermione as she stroked his cheek, a bit of stubble roughening it. "I didn't do anything but talk to him…"

Harry smiled at her. "You helped put him at ease. You have a way of warming people 'Mione, though I'm not surprised you don't know it."

Hermione scooted closer to him and whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Oh, I do? So which was it that first warmed you and Ron to me? Was it while I constantly tried to prove what a know-it-all I am? Or maybe it's been all the times I've nagged you two on your studies. I know…it's my bossiness, isn't it? I always knew that would get you..."

Harry smirked at her and tucked her hair behind the soft shell of her ear. "That's not all you're about. And you don't think Ron and I recognise that's your way of caring for us? No matter how much it irks us at the time…"

Hermione pinched him playfully on the arm. "And you'd never get anything done if I didn't, would you? I swear what with N.E.W.T.s being right round the corner it's more important than ever we study extra hard! 'Specially on the subjects you need for Auror. For example, I was thinking you could do with bringing your Potions grade up a bit, and…"

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed, slapping his hand over her mouth and laughing as she mumbled beneath it. "I never meant to get you started…what'd I have to do to shut you up?"

But he immediately noticed the twinkle in Hermione's eyes and brought his hand away to see that she was smiling. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I was hoping you'd think of a way to stop me going on," she smiled coyly. "There's one sure way I can think of…One you're really good at…"

Harry favoured her with a sexy, lopsided grin that made her heart lurch. He wrapped his legs more tightly with hers, pressing her body flush against his. They had already exchanged their warmer pyjamas for cooler ones when the snogging had gotten them too heated, so Hermione now wore a pair of his boxer shorts and an oversized tee shirt, while Harry wore only a pair of flannel pants. His hand began moving gently up and down the left side of her body and he followed her dropped gaze, watching as the blush crept over her face. He immediately felt the fire beginning to build between them once again. And Merlin how he welcomed it…

"What would that be?" he murmured with a smouldering gaze, his lips inches from her own. He moved as if to kiss her, and then let his lips brush hers to move almost idly to her neck, moving up toward her ear. When he began sucking on the lobe, tongue dipping in and his hand sliding under her shirt to the curve of her waist and down toward her hip, Hermione felt familiar desire zing from her chest outward like an electrical current.

"I…I think you've hit on it," said Hermione breathlessly tangling her hands in his hair as his fingers swept the soft swell of the side of her breast. She decided that turnabout was fair play, so she brought her hand to his chest, tracing the firm lines there and bringing her palm downward to slide carelessly over the lowest part of his abdomen. She felt him groan against her ear and he pulled back, his expression carnal and his voice low.

"Merlin, Hermione. Don’t do that…it isn't fair."

Hermione eyed him innocently. "Mmm? What isn't fair?"

She brought her hand to above his knee and swept it slowly upward toward his inner thigh, stopping just below his groin, smiling in wonder at the quick response his lower half was giving her.

Harry growled almost dangerously. "You're really asking for it…"

"I don't remember asking for anything," she whispered seductively, watching Harry try to shift himself comfortable. "I'm rather enjoying the giving part…"

Her hand moved to his other thigh and gave it the same treatment, massaging the hard muscles there; at the same time her lips moved to his own and gave him a lust-filled kiss. A moment later and Harry was on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, and the result of her handiwork pressed firmly in-between her thighs.

"It's your fault, you know," Harry's low voice whispered against her cheek as he felt her breathing increase. "You give me no choice… I have to torture you now."

"W..well do what you have to…oh...ohmygod," Hermione breathed out as one of Harry's hands slid slowly down her stomach and back up between the valley of her breasts. He moved downward, lifting her shirt to just cover the tops of her naked breasts and kissed below them, drawing his tongue along the underside of each one. Hermione gasped.

"I…I think you're being…quite a bit meaner to me than I was t..to you," she panted quietly as his lips moved downward. She felt him smile against her navel, dipping his tongue in for a slow swirl and continuing downward, his hands gliding lazily down the sides of her waist and down to her hips, holding them firm. Damn you, Harry Potter, but pleasedon'tstop…

He spread her legs slowly and moved down toward the end of the bed, kissing her ankles and taking his time moving upward, sliding his hands, mouth and tongue over her smooth calves, her thighs… He felt her quivering and a fierce hunger welled up inside him, shooting straight downward. Take it easy Harry, it isn't time…take it easy…

He wanted to taste her so badly it was palpable, but he kept himself in check. I love her…I want to wait…she wants to wait… but he grinned to himself. No harm in a little foreplay though… His tongue laved its way upward, his mouth stopping every now and then to suck on a particularly soft area, his fingers resting on the top inside of her thighs, thumbs moving in tiny circles so near...

Hermione's body was shaking with desire, fire burning downward with every stroke his tongue and Quidditch roughened fingers made against her; his soft, wild black hair tickling the insides of her legs…oh Merlin, would it never come fast enough, they'd waited so long…

"H..Harry…"

He finally slowed his torture to pull himself up between her legs, his hands on her hips and his chin resting on her lower abdomen. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You like?" His voice was low and sultry, rumbling in a bare chest that was currently settled between her legs, vibrating against… And Hermione shuddered out a breath.

She nodded. "And p..perhaps you should stop…before 'I like' too much."

Harry's eyes darkened to jade and he moved back up to lay next to her, pressing himself firmly between her thighs. He felt her tremble and drive a bit against him. Lust shot through him like a cannonball.

"I want you so badly," he moaned through gritted teeth, his hands pulling her completely flush against him. "But I also want to wait for you."

She nodded her agreement, unable to speak at the moment, and Harry pulled her over to lay on top of him, carefully avoiding his painful erection. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair softly, his last thoughts before finally drifting off being what a lucky wizard he was.

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

Draco perched motionless across from his father on the edge of an expensive suede chair and stared into the fire roaring in the hearth. Although on the outside he appeared cool and indifferent, on the inside he was falling apart. What did Lucius know? If he knew of his relationship with Ginny…Great Salazar, what would the bastard do…

"I've received some disturbing reports as of late," sneered Lucius quietly. "About you, curiously. And from the most unlikely of sources…"

His fathers snide voice infuriated him, yet Draco dealt him his most unaffected gaze. "About?"

"It seems you've been seen consorting with one of the more…undesirable... sorts at school," continued Lucius in the same poisonously quiet voice. "Have you any idea of whom I am speaking?"

Malfoy set his jaw and answered flippantly. "Not a clue." You arrogant son of a bitch…

Lucius surveyed him coldly. "Be careful, Draco."

Keep it in…just keep it in…reign it, you idiot… "Of course, father."

"Since it seems you're at a loss, I'll spell it out for you," continued Lucius with a hard sarcasm in his voice. "It appears young Theodore Nott has seen you on several occasions consorting with…a Weasley." The name rolled so disdainfully off his tongue it was almost as if he'd vomited it up. "I trust with that sort of rumour, you can imagine the damage and embarrassment that could be inflicted upon the family name…"

Draco studied his father as if all of this was news to him.

Lucius eyed him with a gaze of steel and leaned forward, his voice seething with anger. "I won't have the name Malfoy tarnished by poor Muggle-loving filth such as Arthur Weasley or his church-mouse daughter. We are bred for much higher association, do you understand Draco?"

Draco felt his breath coming harder and shorter and fought the urge to jump from the chair and pound his fist into his father's face. Outwardly, he was as still as a stone.

"Father," he spoke quietly. "I think Theodore misunderstood what he saw…"

"There should have been nothing for him to misunderstand!" Lucius barked out suddenly, his cold grey eyes flashing and his cool demeanour forgotten. "You think it has no bearing on the rest of the family what you do at your school!? Do you think inviting the little Weasley whore to social functions with you, be it a ball or anything else is acceptable!? Don't for one moment assume I'll allow such lowering of standards by you, Draco. Or must I remind you the lesson you were taught some years ago…"

He needed no reminding. His father had caught him playing with a boy of lesser social standing a few streets over. Draco had been viciously caned and sent to his room for three days with nothing but water to sustain him.

Being as he knew his father, Draco thought a way out, although he loathed himself for it. But what might Lucius do not only to himself, but Ginny if given the chance? There was only one thing for it… His stomach roiled sickly. Gods how he detested Lucius Malfoy…

"She's a good lay, father," smirked Malfoy smoothly. "I gather you'll find I'm not the only Slytherin who knows it." It's a lie...I never touched her; not in that way...she's worth more than that…She's worth a thousand of you…and me for that matter…

Lucius looked as taken aback as he ever allowed himself to appear. He stared at his son maliciously, willing him to crack, to waver in his story, but Draco sat relaxed, as indifferent and cold as the lie on his face. On the inside, he determined himself not to vomit.

Lucius continued his gaze for some moments before an insinuating sneer finally etched its way onto his face. He sat back and surveyed his son with a little more respect.

"I see," he drawled out quietly.

For a few agonising minutes, Lucius steepled his fingers in front of him, gold on flesh, and scrutinised Draco as casually if he were some mildly interesting new development. Finally he leaned forward, his heartless eyes gleaming with something terrible.

"Well," said Lucius quietly. "This being your last year at school, and coming of age, I believe some…changes..are in order."

Again fear zinged through Draco at the subtle implication his father's words held, but he kept his face coolly impassive.

"Changes, father?"

Malfoy merely inclined his head at his son. "Whore or not, I forbid you to consort with the young Weasley witch ever again. Find someone more your equal, no matter what your intentions are. Understood?"

Malfoy hesitated. "Of course, father."

"It's time you're prepared for life after Hogwarts, Draco. This Christmas is sure to be one you'll not soon forget."

Something in the way his father had spoken made Draco instantly uneasy. But he held Lucius cruel gaze with one of his own, wishing like everything he had someone to talk to, someone to help him escape this mess…

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

The next couple of days with Sirius passed in a blur of preparations. Neither Harry nor Hermione had gone Christmas shopping as of yet, and as there was no way Sirius could be seen in Hogsmeade, whether in Snuffles' form or not, they left him chatting with Dumbledore, knowing that in two days time, Christmas day, he would need to be ready to face James.

Curiously, Hogsmeade was bustling with activity, so much more so than Diagon Alley had done previously in the year. Since Hogsmeade was much nearer to Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest, and consequently the Kavan Forest where Voldemort had last been seen, Harry and Hermione found it odd the amount of business the town was receiving. However, they chalked it up to the fact that nothing had been seen or heard from the dark lord or any of his followers for some months now.

At twilight, the town resembled something out of a Christmas card. The sky twinkled merrily with only a few stars owing to heavy greyish-white clouds threatening more winter weather. Snow lined curbs and sidewalks in white heaps, where it had been magically blown to either side to ease foot traffic. Multi-coloured and white lights draped windows, and the jolly tinkle of bells sounded with every open door. The air smelled of homemade bread and candy wafting enticingly from shops. Witches and wizards bustled past balancing loads of packages, dressed in their heaviest wool robes, mittens and scarves; cheerful greetings and conversations making their breath swirl out misty white. A thin wizard named Caligulus grinned overjoyed to all passers-by; his coffee cart teemed with business this time of year, the words Caligulus' Coffee Carriage magically lighted up in bright red and green over the awning.

With the last of his presents bought, Harry left Zonko's Joke Shop laden with a fresh batch of dungbombs, hiccup sweets and nose-biting teacups for Ron, who would have a field day opening all of them when he returned from the Burrow. After this last shop, he was left wondering how Fred and George were doing with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley when he saw Hermione exiting Honeydukes with a large box. He hoisted up all the bags he was carrying and crossed the road to meet her.

"Got everything, then?" he said over the noise of the crowd near them.

Hermione tugged her scarf higher up her nose. "No. I still need to get to Gladrags for the sweater I ordered Mum, and to Scrivenshafts to get a new quill for Ginny. Oh! And I wanted to go by the post office to owl a card to mum and dad. They were so disappointed when I told them I was staying at Hogwarts over holiday. I want to at least wish them Happy Christmas. Were you already done?"

"Yep," said Harry tiredly. "Been everywhere but the Three Broomsticks. I was hoping we'd go there next for a butterbeer, and then back to Hogwarts. Don’t want Sirius waiting too long for us."

Hermione smiled at him. "Just a bit longer and then we'll go."

Gladrags and Scrivenshafts were done very quickly, and not for the first time, Harry was immensely thankful Hermione was not one of those witches who took forever perusing each and every item. They were in and out very fast, and found themselves nearing the post office within fifteen minutes time.

The building sat at the very end of the long row of businesses that marked the main drag of Hogsmeade. The outside was painted a dark blue, hard to see in the ever darkening twilight, and the words "Wizard Post" were emblazoned with magically lighted white paint above the doorway. A notice board loaded with fliers and notes that waved and snapped in the slight breeze, greeted their eyes before entering.

Harry merely glanced at it as he prepared to lead the way inside, but Hermione caught his arm suddenly with a gasp and pointed to a particularly large notice that seemed to have been hung there for a while owing to its weather-beaten state. Next to another "Wanted" flier bearing Sirius' face, (which was no shock to them), a young wizards face stared happily back, frozen in time. It had apparently been Muggle photocopied as the image did not move, and Hermione swiped away a tear as the image of Dennis Creevey, apparently done at Hogwarts since he was wearing his Gryffindor robes, smiled down at them. The words underneath had apparently been scrawled with a trembling hand.

"Have you seen this boy? Dennis Alvador Creevey, fifteen years old. Disappeared August 21^st near Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley, London, England.

Reward for any information leading to his location. Anonymous tips accepted, no questions asked. Contact Auror Headquarters, Ministry of Magic, or Pembert and Alva Creevey, parents…"

An address and telephone number followed.

"Great Merlin," breathed Hermione, her face ashen with shame. "I'd almost forgotten about poor Dennis. Hardly ever see Colin for a reminder…"

Harry nodded, feeling just as sad and ashamed. "Ron says he keeps to himself mostly. Said he's come out a bit more lately, but he's still not like he used to be. He stays all quiet and drawn up into himself. Can't blame him."

Hermione nodded her agreement and resolved with herself to have a talk with Colin when he returned from holiday.

She and Harry moved indoors and quickly found a spot in a long, noisy queue of witches and wizards burdened down with packages to send and letters to deliver. Behind a cluttered counter, where an overweight, harried looking postmaster and his fidgety assistant stood receiving packages and scrolls, a large set of shelves stood, each one painted a different colour and holding cages with different sized owls. When each package or scroll was weighed and checked for it's destination, an appropriate owl was chosen and sent, along with its delivery, to the back with another post wizard to be set on its journey. When most of the crowd had thinned, Harry and Hermione finally neared a cluttered counter with a large sign reading "PRICE AND SWIFTNESS OF DELIVERY DETERMINED BY COLOUR-CODED OWL FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE."

The postmaster did not look up at them as he shuffled through incoming mail.

"Destination?" he asked in a thick Cockney accent.

"Number twenty one, Hyde Street, Winchester, Hampshire," said Hermione. "I've written the address on the…"

"Type a' deliv'ry?"

"…envelope," finished Hermione a bit annoyed.

He finally glanced up at them and caught sight of Harry over Hermione's head, his eyes quickly settling on the lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow. Harry frowned and quickly ruffled his bangs to cover it.

Inwardly, Harry cringed. "Well…yeah."

The postmaster's frown deepened and bent down with a grunt to rummage beneath the counter, mumbling audibly. "Well I'll be buggered…Dunno 'ow they knew you'd be comin'. Sixth sense, I reckon…"

He re-emerged red-faced some moments later with a small rolled up parchment magically sealed. "Came fer ya earlier t'day," said the man bewildered, as he handed the small note to an equally befuddled Harry. Hermione looked on with interest.

"Ain' no return addy," continued the wizard. "Jus' th' name 'Arry Potter' on its outside. Guess they reckoned we'd know ya when we seen ya. I mean, everyone does, don' they?"

Harry eyed the roll and answered irritatedly. "I suppose…"

He pocketed the note intending to open it later, and noted the postmaster and assistant rock back on their heels with looks of disappointment.

"Well, bang it up 'ere young miss," said the fat wizard. Hermione passed him the card and he bobbed it up and down in his hand for a moment. " 'Course it don' weigh much. 'Ere Smitty…"

He handed it to his assistant who immediately turned to choose a large ash-coloured owl.

"No, you ruddy nit!" scowled the postmaster at Smitty. "A card don' take no Gian' Grey, them's fer packages an' th' like! Jus' sen' one a' them lit'le Scop owls, it'll do!"

The assistant blushed deeply and reached higher up for one of the smaller owls, attaching the letter securely to its tiny leg and taking it round to the back.

"Tha'll be five sickles," said the postmaster, turning back toward Harry and Hermione.

Harry reached into his pouch to pay the man, and he and Hermione left, headed outside into the now darker night toward the Three Broomsticks.

They sat toward the least crowded part of the dimly lighted pub, echoing with the noise of bottles clinking and witches and wizards talking and laughing. They chose a small, secluded booth away from most of the other patrons, and over mugs of steaming hot butterbeer, Harry pulled out the small parchment and tried to open it. Whatever ward had been used to close the scroll was extremely powerful as he soon found out, and it took Hermione remembering a seal breaking charm to finally reveal its contents.

She pulled out her wand and pointed it.

"Dilorico!"

The note instantly unsealed and even unfurled itself to lay flat in Harry's hand. Hermione scooted closer to him to read the few words inside.

"In two days time you shall receive the first."

Harry frowned and turned the note over as if looking for another part. "What the bloody hell…"

"Do you recognise the handwriting?" asked Hermione, grimacing.

Harry shook his head, his thoughts immediately turning black. Who else would be so cryptic? Voldemort loved playing games…could this be a sign something dark was about to rear it's ugly head again? Without even realising it he snaked an arm round Hermione and pulled her closer to him, a look of apprehension creasing his face.

Hermione's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. "Harry, what is it?"

"I dunno," said Harry quietly, kissing the top of her head. "But I think we should get back to the castle now."

Hermione nodded at him and let him take her hand, leading her out into the cold December evening, where snow had begun to come swirling down once again.

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

Dear Ginny,

Draco Malfoy watched the black owl take off into the dark night until it was unrecognisable against the sky, his heart grown even heavier than it'd done when he'd been downstairs with his father.

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

The next two days passed too quickly for Sirius as the time to face James drew nearer.

Christmas dawned grey, snowy and cold, and Harry and Hermione awoke to find him already awake, dressed and seated in front of the common room fire, his face drawn tight with nerves. Harry decided not to embarrass him by asking him how he felt, but rather followed Hermione's approach of cheerfulness.

"Morning Sirius," yawned Hermione, plopping down on the couch beside him as Harry made his way into the bathroom for a shower.

Sirius glanced over with a small smile at the sight of Hermione, whose hair was in low pigtails. "Morning."

For a few moments they were content to listen to the crackling of the logs in the fire and the muffled spattering of the shower until Sirius finally spoke up quietly.

"So, what'd you think of him?"

Hermione turned to look at him. "Of James? He seems very kind...and patient. He's a great teacher. I can tell he loves Harry very much."

"He asked you to call him James?" said Sirius, another small smile smoothing some of the lines from his face. "Always said he'd never allow anyone to call him 'mister' or 'sir'. Sounded too old; too much like his father."

Hermione nodded. "I feel he's trying his best to make Harry comfortable round him. Maybe he knew if I called him by his first name rather than Mr. Potter it might sound less awkward. At least that's what I've thought, anyway."

"You might well be right," said Sirius thoughtfully. He paused for a few moments, trying his best to think how to phrase his next question.

"So, how do he and Harry…get on together?"

Hermione eyed him for a moment. "You don't want to ask Harry these things?"

"I just don't want him feeling more uncomfortable than he already is," said Sirius. "I don’t want him thinking he has to explain himself to me. I just want to know…I want to know if things are getting better between them."

Hermione paused for a few moments to think through how Harry and his father's relationship seemed to be progressing. "Well, it's certainly less strained than before. They're able to talk about things now, important things. But by no means is Harry over everything yet. I'm not sure he'll ever be."

Sirius grunted in understanding and sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the popping logs and the sound of Harry whistling some nameless tune as he shut off the shower.

Very unexpectedly, Hermione suddenly placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly. "And Sirius…If you're wondering if James is somehow going to replace you in Harry's life…he isn't. Harry relies on you and feels the same about you as before his father reappeared. You can feel secure in that."

She gave him a small understanding smile before jumping up as Harry emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled and a fresh pair of jeans on. Hermione pretended to ogle him like a randy tart before passing him to take her turn for the shower. Harry grinned at her and rounded the couch to sit near Sirius.

"Alright?" he asked cheerfully.

Sirius smiled at his godson and nodded, more light-hearted than he had been in days. "That girlfriend of yours is a keeper, Harry. Smart as they come, isn't she?"

Harry gave him an odd sort of smile but agreed.

The castle seemed oddly empty and echoing without the sounds of hundreds of students tromping its halls, talking with each other, and hundreds of cups, forks, and spoons clattering around plates and bowls in the Great Hall. The ghosts and portraits kept the place from being completely soundless. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron were seen chatting amiably around hallways, the Fat Friar was making gloomy noises over the missing Hufflepuff students and sulking that the Grey Lady continued to haunt the castle in silence, choosing not to speak to anyone. Peeves continued to reek havoc on any and every being who passed near him.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair. Harry, Hermione and Sirius joined Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Snape and James at one long table set in the middle of the huge room as the others had been cleared away for the holidays.

Sirius greeted them all in turn, even James, though it was a bit uncomfortable and forced. However, James seemed to take it in stride and greeted him back serenely, hoping that his own calm exterior would help Sirius feel more at ease. By the time the food had apparated to the middle of the table, a great pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hot tea and pumpkin juice, his efforts seemed to be working.

True, Sirius had not yet had to face him one on one, but James was hopeful that once they did, having already shared breakfast together might make it a bit better.

While they ate, Snape passed looks of deep dislike from Sirius to James and stayed morosely to himself, something which helped to bond the two friends together a bit more as they frequently shared observant glances about it between them. Dumbledore talked mostly about the Ministry and how they were still refusing to believe reports that Voldemort had returned. McGonnagol interjected her opinion on the whereabouts of the missing Dementors, stating somewhat unnecessarily that she was sure they'd gone to join Voldemort's ranks.

Lupin spoke up every now and then when he could, while at the same time filling Sirius in on the dark happenings at Hogwarts since the beginning of the new school term. For proving his point, he lifted up one long sleeve of his robes to show Sirius the long, angry, red scar that he now bore on his left forearm.

Sirius seemed eager to help in defending the school, although with Dumbledore's strong objections and reminders that he was still at large, some of the wind seemed to be taken from his sails. But Harry knew when time for the final war reached his godfather's ears there would be no stopping him from leaving Grimmauld Place and joining in the fight.

Time after breakfast until that evening was spent with Harry, Hermione and Sirius wrapping packages and getting things ready for James arrival to their common room. Hermione set out the load of food Dobby had made especially for them on a blanket in front of the hearth. Sirius was getting noticeably more tense as time drew nearer for James to arrive, and he ended up having to rewrap some of the packages as he was paying little attention to what he was doing .

A sharp rap on the portrait door around seven, followed by Sir Cadogen's tiny muffled voice, ("Halt! Who goes there!? You trespass on private lands, knave! Remove thyself or be forced forthwith!"), alerted them to the fact that James had finally arrived.

Hermione opened the portrait door, admonishing Cadogen and receiving James in with a kiss on the cheek. As he entered, smiling first at the Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the corner, Harry couldn't help but notice how nervous he looked as well. He and James greeted each other with a handshake and after placing his presents under the tree, James joined the other three in front of the hearth and loaded his plate.

After a long dinner, during which Hermione and Harry kept the conversation flowing as smoothly as possible, Hermione handed out the presents, making sure to add bossily that each was to be opened one at the time so everyone could see what the other had gotten.

Sirius had gotten Harry a very nice broom servicing kit, (Bernard's Complete Broom Servicing Kit: Official kit of the Salisbury Slayers) complete with twig trimmers, a splinter sander, and handle polish.

Hermione had gotten him a book, So you want to be an Auror?: A Wizard's Guide to Making the Grade by Eamon Merriweather, which when he'd opened it and faked extreme surprise, she'd scowled at him.

James had found him a book as well, but it worked more as an interactive teaching hologram. When opened, A Guide to Advanced Fencing by Englehard Parry, showed two translucent characters suddenly popping from its pages and standing in attack position. Harry only needed to touch the written fencing move he wished to see with his wand, and the characters acted it out for him.

"Thought you'd advanced far enough to use this in your spare time," added James with a smile as Harry thanked him.

But while Sirius gave the fencing book a once over, checking out different moves with a touch of his wand, Hermione looking on, James slipped a small box with a card attached into Harry's hand. Harry looked at him quizzically, but James merely gave him a small nod and mouthed to him to pocket it and open it later.

Harry'd gotten Hermione a beautiful silver bracelet at the new jewellery shop in Hogsmeade, Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. He'd made sure to set a deep blue star charm on it to similarly match the necklace he'd given her last year, and had enchanted it as well, but with a spell that would act as a mood ring for her, and tell her Harry's mood when she wore it and thought specifically of him. As she threw her arms round his neck, Sirius gave Harry a thumbs up behind her back. Harry grinned.

Both James and Sirius had given her books, as neither of them could think of anything more perfectly suited, and she of course, loved them.

James opened his presents as well, one from Harry and one from Hermione, and found, to his immense relief, that Sirius had decided not to get him anything the same as he had done. The situation was awkward enough, and both had apparently thought far enough ahead to consider how hard it might be to open a gift from the other.

Sirius appeared equally relieved to have not received anything from James as he opened one of his two gifts, the largest of them all. It was a Muggle television, charmed somewhat illegally by Arthur Weasley earlier in the year to display every local channel it could get, and when turned to channel "0" to sound with the WWN. The gift was from both Harry and Hermione for him to take back to Grimmauld place so that he could stay aware of the goings on in the Muggle and wizarding world, and also to entertain him when he was bored out of his skull. Sirius was immensely grateful.

However, as he opened his second gift and realised what it was, he was left speechless. Harry and Hermione had sat up all night a few weeks ago compiling as many old photos as they could find in the school of the Marauders and placing them carefully in an album. They had, of course, "scourgified" Peter Pettigrew from every picture making them a bit different than they had been originally, but Harry was sure Sirius didn't mind.

The book had the desired effect. Harry saw James strain his neck far enough to see what Sirius was holding, and saw his eyes widen and begin to water. The image of a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and mischievously grinning James Potter, who had just picked up a struggling, scowling Lily Evans in his arms, yelled and waved silently at the camera. Lily finally succeeded in the next picture to punch James in the chest hard enough for him to drop her. While James wheezed and the others laughed, Lily smoothed her robes and hair and stood grinning and waving as well.

James saw Sirius beginning to grin at the image and sat on the couch near him. "Remember that day, mate? Lily wouldn't speak to me for two days. Said I'd embarrassed her."

"You were doing that all the time, weren't you?" said Sirius flipping the page and grinning at a picture Lupin had taken of he and James giving a low fly-by over his head during a Quidditch match.

It had gotten late already, and Harry turned to Hermione who stood staring at the two with tears in her eyes. He winked covertly to her and she nodded.

"We'll be right back," he said grabbing hold of Hermione's hand. "Just need to get something from the room." James gave him a small wave to let him know they'd heard him, his eyes still keenly focussed on the album.

Harry led Hermione to her room and shut the door, both knowing full well they weren't planning to re-emerge until morning. He smiled and hugged Hermione to him in the dimly moonlit room, his own tears threatening to spill out over his cheeks. Sirius and James had just been given a way to finally open up to each other, although a bit underhandedly. He just hoped they would take advantage of it.

Much later in the evening, when Hermione had fallen asleep on Harry's chest, he found himself still unable to sleep, thinking about the two most important men in his life out in the common room. He'd heard no yelling, no raising of voices, but perhaps that had more to do with the thick oak doors his and Hermione's rooms were furnished with rather than the actual conversation. He'd just been thinking to himself what a pleasant, uneventful holiday it'd been when he heard the tap of something hard against the glass of Hermione's window behind him.

Instantly, Harry shoved his glasses back onto his face, grabbing onto Hermione with one arm and his wand with the other and pressing both of them as flat onto the bed as possible.

But as he turned to peer at the window from between the thick parted scarlet canopy, he saw only a grey barn owl perched on the sill, its feathers puffed up from the cold, and a small scroll tied to its leg.

"Harry," whispered Hermione sleepily as he made to rise from the bed. "What is it?"

Harry replied quietly, pulling the thick quilt back over her shoulders. "Nothing love, just a post owl. I'll be back."

Hermione nodded, a small frown creasing her face at the thought of a post owl delivery this late, but she'd fallen back to sleep before the thought could fully register in her head.

Harry padded toward the window and opened it slowly, his wand still clutched in his hand. He untied the note and watched as the owl flapped its way back out into the night. Again, the note was powerfully sealed. Remembering the spell Hermione had used before, Harry pointed his wand at it, keeping near the window to use the moonlight for illumination.

"Dilorico."

The note unfurled instantly, and words began to form in an eerie red blazing scrawl, one that reminded him too well of the note he'd received last year concerning Hermione's abduction. His heartbeat quickened and he gripped his wand tighter, glancing over to make sure she was still safe in her bed.

"Harry, you were warned..." the first words etched themselves. And as the rest began to form, Harry felt himself grow shaky with all of the repressed fear and anxiety he'd been saving up, knowing that eventually, something else was to happen.

"The time draws near to meet our fates.

The winds of change draw nigh.

No time, no hope its much too late.

The first are marked to die..."

Snowflakes fell gently on top of the precisely manicured lawn outside, the moonlight against the dark making them gleam as if sprinkled with glitter. But as Draco Malfoy sat sprawled in an expensive easy chair in front of a large domed window, his eyes dully following their journey toward the ground, he could find no beauty in it. His fathers house marred all that touched it. Nothing on these grounds could ever be considered a thing of beauty.

"Master Malfoy," said a cowed voice from behind him, sounding a bit strange as if from lack of use.

Draco sat up slowly and turned to see Marietta, the cook, eyeing him nervously as she wrung her hands.

"Dinner is served…b..but, your father wishes you to meet him in his study for a moment. He says he has your Christmas present." Marietta gave him a hopeful smile as if she'd just informed Draco of his father trying to make a nice gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to be fooled.

He nodded to her and she scurried away toward the kitchen to bring everything out to the table.

Malfoy headed down the long marble hallway, somehow reminded of a death-row wizard taking his final stroll toward the room where he was to be dispensed of. But Lucius wasn't about to kill him…yet. He had too much for Draco to accomplish first, of that he was sure. Sorry you won't get the pleasure you trumped up pile of shit…

He entered his father's study with his hands plunged deep into his robes. Lucius sat stiffly in a large leather chair facing the lit fireplace, a look of deep satisfaction smoothing the usual harsh lines in his face. Draco scanned the room and saw no wrapped boxes; nothing out of the ordinary. He began to immediately grow wary and took an involuntary step backward.

"Be seated, Draco," said Lucius quietly, gesturing at an identical chair near him.

Draco sat himself down slowly, perched on the edge of the seat as if prepared for instant flight if needed. "Marietta said you had something for me."

"Indeed I do," said Lucius, the hint of malevolent satisfaction making chills creep up and down Draco's spine. He was just thinking to himself that he should've listened to his instinct and escaped this dungeon last night when, with a wave of Lucius' wand, the door behind him slammed shut and locked with a frighteningly secure click.

Malfoy turned his wide gaze from the door toward his father and gripped the arms of the chair so hard his fingernails broke the soft leather.

"Father," his voice sounded cold even to him. "What's this about?"

"I told you last night some changes were in order," said Lucius softly with a small smile. A hot log in the hearth gave a particularly loud crack and Draco fought the urge to jump at the sudden noise.

"When I'd heard of your…dealings…with the Weasley witch from Nott, I knew my decision was the correct one," continued Lucius. "I believe Dumbledore thinks he can draw some sort of…misguided good…from you, thus your inclusion into the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Therefore, you could be one of the essential elements in his undoing, and consequently in reinforcing the dark lord's new movement. Therefore, we can't have you influenced by any of the bleeding-heart idiots at school who don't understand where the true power lies."

Draco tensed. "Father, I told you…She meant nothing to me…just another whore…"

Lucius stood. The look of intense determination in his father's eyes was what did it for Draco. Lucius wasn't hearing him. Whatever he'd decided to do, he wasn't going to turn from it, no matter what his son said.

There was no time for more thought or planning. In an instant Draco's fingers had curled round his wand and he'd whipped it out toward his father.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The spell hit him directly in the chest.

Draco did not wait to watch the results, he whirled toward the door and bellowed "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, but the second his hand reached the knob something hit him from behind.

"Immobulus!"

Draco bashed into the door and fell with a limp thud to the hardwood floor, his eyes squinted hard shut against the pain shooting through his head. He eyes were the only thing still able to move.

Lucius Malfoy calmly strode over to his son and dragged him back up onto his chair.

"Ah Draco," he sneered, only a bit out of breath and holding his wand steadily on him. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't prepare myself for just such an eventuality? Shield charms are easy to conjure. I'd hoped you'd decided to continue in the ways of our lord, but unfortunately, as you've now made it quite clear, you've already been tainted by Dumbledore and those who believe in him. You've given me no choice but to force loyalty upon you, I'm afraid. And I'd so hoped we could do this the easy way. Ah well, such is life..."

Although his face was frozen, on the inside, Draco was screaming. Bastard! Son of a bitch! Oh god, he's going to do it…oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod…

Lucius bent down and carefully, calmly rolled up the left sleeve of Draco's robe, watching his sons eyes narrow hatefully as he spied his golden hand.

"After I'm done I must return to our master," he said almost conversationally. "He's expecting me. Udolphus will take you back to King's Cross when it comes time for your return to school."

Oh god…ohmygod don't let this happen to me…

"By way of explanation," continued Lucius as he straightened up once again and towered over his son's prone form. "From now on, you will feel the master's draw. When he calls, the mark will burn, as I’m sure you've already seen. Of course, you won't be expected to give response until after you've done with school, at which time you will immediately join in his service. With this mark, the dark lord has access to your feelings and emotions. If he is focussing on you at the time, he will sense any feelings of betrayal, and mark my words Draco, you will be found and dealt with accordingly."

Son of a bitch…you great son of a bitch…I hope you rot in hell…

Lucius raised his wand, ironically held by the huge golden hand. Draco determined not to show fear in his eyes.

"Be cheered son," said Lucius, smiling coldly. "Receiving the mark is a great honour. Morsmordre!"

Immediately after, Lucius disapparated with a loud crack.

And as the mark burned his skin, etching even down into his muscle the brand of Voldemort, silent screams echoed through Draco's head, who now felt as if his soul had been branded as well. Unclean…unclean…

Some half an hour later, when a shaking, white-faced Marietta had finally been allowed to remove the curse and help him to the table, Draco sat completely alone at the end of it, surrounded by row upon row of Christmas dishes. They steamed hot, all of his favourites, but his mouth was too dry to eat. Even if he'd been able to force any of it down, Draco wasn't sure it would stay there. The long opulent table screamed of emptiness as he stared down it, wondering what it might be like to have others there with him. But even if he could at this moment, he would turn them away. He was tainted. Dirty. He was now, truly a Malfoy.

"Happy Christmas Draco," he whispered to no one at all.

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

Harry jerked awake next morning not quite sure when exactly it had been that he'd fallen asleep. Hermione was moulded closely to him, her warm cheek pressed against his chest, chestnut hair half concealing her face, and her arm thrown peacefully round his waist. He realised he must've fallen asleep with his arms and legs wrapped tightly about her, and in waking, still felt the urge to keep her securely against him, though the steady rise and fall of her breathing seemed to calm him a bit.

After having received the threatening note last night, Harry had stood guard at the window for some time, his wary gaze travelling back and forth from the sleeping form of Hermione to the darkness and white-blanketed grounds outside. The moonlight filtering through the clouds and shining down on the snow had made the otherwise black night almost luminescent, and he'd been grateful for the advantage.

For two solid hours he had fought drowsiness and stood rigidly watching, and though he rarely needed it anymore, he had kept his wand clutched tightly in hand, his eyes keenly searching the grounds for any sign of movement. Though he knew Dumbledore had tripled the strong wards and protections round the school, the memory of Hermione being swept right from Hogwarts' grounds last year haunted his mind constantly.

In fact, it had been the sound of her crying out from another nightmare that had finally brought him back to bed. He'd decided quickly to place a protective ward on the door and window, and then had crawled back under the covers with her, gathering her to him and stroking her hair until she finally fell back into a peaceful sleep.

For hours it seemed he'd lain awake holding her, adamantly willing his protection around her and wishing for the life of him that he could protect all others Voldemort might harm as well. He was anxious to figure out who the dark lord had marked to attack, and the thought of sending warning owls first thing next morning was his last one as sleep finally dulled the sharp edges of his mind and lulled him under. Once again that night, as so many times before, Harry dreamed of he, Hermione and Ron dying at the hands of Voldemort and his followers.

The heavy scarlet drapes began charming themselves open as the sun hit them fully not more than four hours later, and Harry, fully awake and once again lost in anxious thoughts, watched a bright white beam spread over he and Hermione like another quilt. He felt Hermione begin to stir beside him and tilted his gaze down toward her, deciding at once not to alarm her with news that he had begun dreaming the same horrifying dream on a regular basis. Besides, it was bad enough what he did have to tell her.

Hermione breathed a long sigh and opened her eyes with a squint from the sunlight, as completely rested from a full night of sleep as Harry was not. She looked up with a smile at him, but immediately noticed his grim expression.

"Harry…how long've you been awake? What's wrong?"

Harry hesitated a moment and then sat up running a hand down his face and back up through his messy hair. Hermione noticed his bloodshot eyes and frowned concerned at him.

"You don't look as if you got any sleep. Did you?"

Harry sighed. "A bit. Listen, love…d'you remember the post owl that came last night?"

Hermione eyed him. "Not exactly…"

" I don't wonder; you were half asleep," Harry replied wearily. He leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the note from the floor and handed it to her. "Here, read it."

Her eyes flew over the short note and a look of horror quickly stole onto Hermione's face. She turned her gaze back to Harry. "Oh no…oh my god, Harry…"

"The bastard's finally ready to attack and I can't do a bloody thing to stop it," said Harry in angry frustration. "Only thing I know to do is send a post to everyone we figure he might immediately target. It'll be someone close I think, someone who'll make a first impact…on me especially." He sighed and again clawed a hand through his hair. "Of course my first thought was to contact the Ministry, but it's not as if they'd take it seriously what with them determined to stay ignorant about his return."

(A/N: I started this story pre-OotP so in my story the fight at the Ministry, Sirius' death, and Fudge finding out he was wrong all this time never took place.)

"No they wouldn't." Hermione shook her head, her eyes again glued to the glowing red words as if she might somehow glean more information from them. "They'd only make more trouble for you and Professor Dumbledore. They won't believe Voldemort's back until it's proven he's done something, I’m afraid. But I think you're right; we should send warning owls."

Harry paused and turned more toward her, taking her by the arms and gazing gently at her, dreading his next words. "Look…love, I don't mean to scare you, but…but I think we should send one to your parents as well."

Stunned, Hermione shot a fearful gaze at Harry and quickly grabbed his hands. "My parents!? Harry, you don't actually think he would attack them!? He knows the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government share information…if he was caught harming Muggles, law enforcement would contact the Ministry immediately! And remember what Bellatrix Lestrange said to you? She basically said Voldemort wouldn't risk having himself seen by the Ministry and give up the cover they're ignorantly providing! He'd be out in the open; no longer able to move in secret! There's no way he wants that!"

Harry put a gentle hand to her face and spoke in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Things change, love. If he's moving toward a final war maybe he thinks it's time everyone finally chose sides. Maybe now, it's exactly what he wants."

Panic began to pound Hermione's heart relentlessly hard against her chest. She was normally a very calm witch, able to stay cool and think logically in times of stress. But if Voldemort was trying to draw Harry out as his note would indicate, and he did decide to target Muggles, the loss of his girlfriend's parents would be a sure way of affecting Harry.

"It's not certain who he'll target yet, love." Harry said as gently and reassuring as he could. "As for him attacking Muggles, I dunno if he'd do it himself or use Death Eaters…or possibly send Dementors again. Remember what happened to me fifth year in Little Whinging? What if Umbridge was working for him like you, Ron and I think she was? And if Voldemort was behind her sending Dementors after me, in Muggle England, I don't see what would stop him doing something like it again. His goal has always been to purge the wizarding world of half-bloods, but I'm certain now he's decided to broaden his horizons. I think he's just mad enough to want run of the whole world, and that would include ridding himself of Muggles as well. We want to be sure to warn everyone we can think of, don't we? "

Harry felt a pang of regret run through his chest at the stricken look on Hermione's face. A few warm tears rolled down her cheek and he reached a hand up to thumb them gently away, pulling her to him.

"It's alright love," he whispered. "We'll just owl them straight away. It's all we can do for now."

Hermione pulled away from him for a moment and gave him a determined look. "It's not all we can do. Harry, I want you to listen to me for a moment…"

Harry frowned, slightly puzzled, but nodded for her to continue.

"We need to tell Dumbledore on this one," said Hermione firmly. "No arguments, Harry. This goes far beyond your being too old for his advice. He needs to know about this."

To Hermione's surprise, Harry agreed with her at once. "I know love, you're right. It's not just my life we're dealing with anymore. I'm going to tell him this morning after we've sent the posts and had breakfast. But I have a favour to ask of you."

Hermione gazed at him. "You know you can ask me anything."

Harry nodded. "I don't want Sirius knowing about this. He's still not safe with the Ministry and I know he won't go back to Grimmauld Place if he finds out Voldemort's about to strike. Especially if he knows I'm being sent bloody notices beforehand."

"I understand," said Hermione. "But Harry, you yourself said once the war begins there'll be no stopping him …"

"I know," said Harry grimly. "And I still believe that. But I don't want to know something I did or let him in on got him sent back to Azkaban or… or worse. I couldn't live with myself. I want him alive and safe as long as possible…Maybe that's selfish, huh?"

It was Hermione's turn to gaze gently at him and she took his hand in hers, noting the familiar worn look on his face. She knew how heavily the lives of everyone Harry knew and loved weighed on him; knew the colossal burden he carried day after day, and knew he blamed himself for the deaths that had already taken place, though he shouldn't. She also knew what an enormous heart Harry had beating inside his chest, a heart she loved more than any other in the world.

She stood from the bed and began rummaging for clothes for the walk down to the Owlery. Harry turned his back as she dressed and she did the same for him. She took his hand as they made to exit her room and turned him to her for a moment more.

"You're a wonderful man Harry, and I love you. Never forget that."

As Harry kissed her and hugged her closely to him, the thought entered his mind that she might feel a bit differently when even more began to die for the immense hatred Voldemort had for him. It was inevitable; he knew they would. It was only a matter of who, and when.

So Harry lived for today…and today, Hermione Granger loved him.

He'd long before given up hoping for the future. Within the life of the boy-who-lived only one black certainty stood out amongst all of the uncertain: Harry Potter was never promised tomorrow.

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

Aunt Petunia,

I'm sure this is a shock to you hearing from me

during school, but I've just got some bad news as of late and

thought I should warn you. Voldemort is on the move again.

I've addressed this to you Aunt Petunia as you know

what I'm on about when I mention him. He'll be looking to

strike at those he thinks I'm close to, or in your Case, one's

who provide me with any type of protection. I'm sure you

remember Professor Dumbledore chose to leave me with

you and Uncle Vernon because you're my mother's sister and

having the same blood, I'm protected with you in your house.

Harry

Ron's letter was decidedly more warm, though Harry couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed of it. He had done his duty in warning the Dursley's, but he had never felt anything but profound dislike for them. He probably never would, he supposed, but then again, he was sure the feeling was mutual.

Ron,

I've written it out for you:

Though Harry's words had calmed Hermione somewhat, she still composed the letter to her parents with a shaky hand. As she wrote, horror filled thoughts continued to assault her brain; images of her parents laid out dead in their home, her house destroyed, even neighbours and their children she'd grown up with flashed dead and mangled in her mind, their glassy, lifeless eyes staring accusatorily through her. She shuddered and tried to shove the images away as she continued.

would be better if they sent any messages via the floo network since it seemed

pretty certain Voldemort would be watching the owl posts. So he and Hermione watched their hearth as the green flames rushed each letter to its destination, their hearts hanging heavier than they had done for a long time.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Hermione, they had not been the only ones so late the Friday night before to receive mail.

On his bed in the Slytherin boy's dorms, Draco Malfoy sat rigidly staring into nothingness, the curtains of his four poster shut tight around him both to ward off the early morning sunshine and the prying eyes of any other awake dorm mates. His pale skin seemed even paler within the dimly lit hideaway he'd fashioned for himself. Purple circles had smudged themselves under his steely grey eyes as a way of reminding him he had not slept. The parchment he kept crushed in his fist had the wrinkled, slightly grubby appearance of having been read and then re-crumpled over and over again.

He should have expected it. Lucius had not given him the dark mark for no reason; he'd had plans for him all along, even for the five or so short months he had left at Hogwarts.

Draco miserably lifted a hand to the mark his father had given him as a 'gift' over Christmas and rubbed the still smarting area. Lucius had made it quite plain he and his damnable 'master' wanted Draco to act as a spy, and to use Ginny to better do it.

Voldemort would know if he didn't do what his father had instructed him to in the letter, he knew… If only he were skilled at Occlumency like Professor Snape or even Scarhead for the matter…

He didn't give a damn about Potter or any of his drooling fans, nor any more what his father and Voldemort did, or did not find out about them. The one thing he did care about concerning anything Gryffindor however, was Ginny Weasley. What he decided to divulge to Lucius, and therefore Voldemort, could and would have direct consequence on her, and that above all was the one thing that most plagued him.

For what seemed the tenth time since he'd received it, Draco again unrumpled the letter and smoothed it out before him, reading the glowing red words as morosely as if they were a eulogy for his own funeral.

To Draco himself, they might as well have been.

'Our lord'… 'his majesty'… Bullshit.

Once again Draco crumpled the note in his fist. His face blotched scarlet with rage, while at the same time his stomach gave a nauseating churn of fear. He would no sooner use Ginny and then give her over to be killed than slice his own throat, and yet here Lucius was commanding him to do just that.

Not for the first time in his young life, Draco was forced yet again to think desperately for a way out from between a rock and the proverbial hard place.

Christmas holidays came and went more quickly than Harry or Hermione could have imagined, and though the remainder of them were spent in a state of extreme unease, nothing was heard from the Ministry of Magic or Muggle law enforcement that seemed to point toward Voldemort.

The morning of January first Sirius flooed himself back to Grimmauld Place, carrying back with him a pocketful of shrunken presents and belongings. To Harry and Hermione's great surprise, he hugged James goodbye as well as them although a bit awkwardly, and promised to keep in touch through Dumbledore. The smile on James' face as his friend left told Harry far more than words could have done how well his and Sirius' talk had gone over.

Far too soon, Harry and Hermione found themselves faced with the renewed prospect of N.E.W.T. level classes and returning students pounding the silent halls of the school awake once again. In fact, late next afternoon, it was as if the quiet had never been. Around five o'clock the great double doors of the school slammed open, and hundreds of talking laughing students began pouring inside carrying smaller bags and presents and leaving their trunks on the outside carriages to be apparated in later by the house elves. Within school grounds only the house elves were able to apparate anything, it seemed.

Ron met Harry and Hermione for dinner in the Great Hall an hour later, looking quite a bit less carefree after holiday than he had done last year. He plopped himself down heavily opposite Harry and Hermione and between Seamus Finnegan and Colin Creevey, who if possible, seemed paler and even more withdrawn than he had done even before holiday. Ron made sure both Colin and Seamus were engaged in other conversations before favouring his two best friends with a grim smile. His first words to them upon returning were about the warning Harry had sent him, and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised.

" 'Lo mates…any news yet?" He asked quietly as he grabbed two turkey legs and heaped a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

Harry shook his head dourly and filled his plate as well, plucking a roll from a basket nearby. "Not a bit and it's frustrating as hell. Dumbledore's got Kingsley Shacklebolt among the Ministry Aurors keeping an ear out for news, and of course he's got his regular connections with the Muggle network."

Ron nodded. "Mum and Dad were in a right state when Ginny and I read them your letter. Dad's already cast about three dozen protective charms over the Burrow but Bill and Charlie'll be over until around January fifteenth, so Mum feels a bit safer, I think. But she's half nutters over you, mate. Thinks you'll be safer with wizards than Muggles when time comes to leave school, especially what with the Dementors attacking you a couple of years ago. She said f Voldemort's still running about come graduation, she'll have you at the Burrow than back with the Dursley's no matter what Dumbledore says. Besides she hates them anyway, the sods…"

"I know she does," Harry smiled fondly. "But if that does happen, I'll be out on my own by then, won't I? I'll be getting my own flat."

Harry missed Hermione suddenly shifting her eyes downward at the table at his words as he was still focussed on Ron.

Ron goggled at him. "Bloody hell…I suppose you will…and so will I once I get the money for it! I still can't believe it's our last year." He sat still for a moment staring blankly through Lavender who was talking with Parvarti a few spaces down the table until he remembered what he'd been just about to say. His gaze moved back to Harry and Hermione.

"Dumbledore's already met with the Order and put them on triple alert. Has them set out in different places all along Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even undercover in some Muggle areas. Did you know?"

"I'm not surprised," said Harry evenly looking toward Hermione. "He's always right on top of things isn't he?"

"Yes he is," said Hermione quietly.

Ron angled closer to them and continued, but in a much quieter tone. He could've sworn he'd seen Colin leaning into their conversation a bit over his plate of turkey. "And you don't have to worry about Sirius, mate. Dumbledore's already warned the Order to keep quiet near him. He's as worried about him getting involved and being seen as you are."

Harry nodded, feeling some of the heavy, invisible weight slip from his shoulders. "Well, Sirius is helping in a way though he doesn't really know it, what with him now able to watch Muggle news."

Ron quickly shot he and Hermione an incredulous look. "What'd you mean watch Muggle news!?" He hissed out. "You mean he's out running about with them waiting to see if something bloody happens!? Has he gone completely nutters!?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him until she remembered Ron had no idea about television. It had been one of the few things Arthur Weasley had yet to get his hands on. She grabbed his arm before he could begin to rant even louder and attract attention.

"No Ron, of course not. Harry and I gave him a television set for Christmas. It's a box that transmits information to you much like the WWN does; only with pictures. He'll be able to see if anything important happens; maybe even before the Ministry finds out depending on how quickly the Muggles report it to them."

Harry nodded. "It's the one thing I'm afraid of. But Sirius wouldn't stay ignorant forever; he'd find some way of getting information whether or not he had the television. In any case, Muggle reporters are quick with their news."

"Bugger me…" Ron goggled at them, showing Hermione a mouthful of turkey and potatoes before he swallowed. "Well I guess they are quick what with having those fellytones to communicate with and such."

"Telephones," corrected Hermione.

"Tha's wha' I said," said Ron around a mouthful of roll.

"No you didn't Ron, you said…" began Hermione before a quick nudge and subtle shake of Harry's head reminded her that it was useless to argue with him further.

Hermione sighed, disappointed. She felt somehow unfulfilled when she wasn't allowed to correct a glaring mistake.

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

Ginny passed Hermione, Harry and Ron next afternoon on her way from a gruelling sixth year potions, realising too late that the next class in line was seventh year double potions with the Slytherin. She'd only had a moment to nod to Hermione who, right before entering Snape's classroom had mouthed to her that she wanted to talk later, before she ran almost headfirst into the brick wall visage of Vincent Crabbe, shadowed by the even larger, Gregory Goyle.

"Watch where you're going Gryffinwhore," Crabbe growled out menacingly. Behind him, Goyle snickered dumbly.

"What'd you just call me!?" Ginny reddened, her breath coming in short furious pants.

Theodore Nott, who'd just passed the group backed up with a gleeful expression and cackled. "Listen at this, mates. She acts as if she hasn't heard it before… I know I haven't banged her, but I’m willing to give it a go Weasley, if you're up for it. From what I hear, you always are."

Ginny swept her hand guilefully under her robes and wrapped her fingers tightly round her wand, her eyes blazing violently. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was still a virgin for Godric's sake and even if she wasn't, there was no way in bloody hell she'd give herself to a Slytherin. Well…there'd only ever been one she'd considered before, but that was apparently over. Ginny forced those thoughts away and smiled grimly. Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had her beat as far as largeness was concerned, but she knew her skill with the wand far surpassed theirs.

"Blow it out your shorts you bloody mong," she hissed at Nott whipping out her wand too quickly for any of them to reply. "I don't know where you three get your information, but I wouldn't sleep with you or any other Slytherin for the matter if you paid me all the gold in Gringotts! Now I suggest we all get along to class before I decide to rearrange your arses with your heads...assuming that hasn't already been done."

Nott and Goyle made a motion to move forward, but a sudden glance over the top of Ginny's head quickly made them think otherwise and they slowly backed off. To save face, Nott merely shrugged his shoulders disaffectedly and re-shouldered his books once again.

"Whatever you say Weasley. We've all heard how you like to rip up the sheets with any bloke who'll have you. It's quite pathetic, really," he chuckled poisonously with a sudden nasty glance behind her. Crabbe and Goyle laughed aloud. Ginny gaped at them but still made no move to turn round and see what they were all staring at. Nott continued. "But I have heard poorer witches can climb their way higher up the rich social ladder if they'll just shag the right wizard. Guess you're just giving them all a good test run, aye? How 'bout it Gryffinwhore…up for doing a train?"

Ginny inhaled sharply and made to scream out a reply but was given no chance to. Someone behind her, a someone with a very familiar deep voice suddenly roared ferociously and charged past her.

"Son of a bitch! I'll rip you in half!"

Draco Malfoy was a blur of blonde hair and black school robes as he threw down his books, pounded past her, and launched himself at Nott. Both crashed hard to the floor. His fists began pounding into him wherever they could, and Nott, severely startled at an attack coming from the usually cool Malfoy, finally gained enough wits about him to begin to fight back. Ginny squealed in fright and began to approach them yelling, before Draco shouted at her and shot a hand out to shove her roughly back.

"NO! Stay the hell out of it, Red!"

Nott took that moment to land a hard punch to Malfoy's jaw. He immediately returned it, along with an answering punch to the gut. The sounds of shouting and cursing quickly sent the whole of seventh year potions racing excitedly out from the classroom and into the halls, yelling wildly and punching fists in the air despite Professor Snape barking loudly for them to stay put while he went to investigate. A good fight livened up any class, especially a dreadful N.E.W.T. level Potions.

Snape shoved through the throng now surrounding Draco and Theodore, bulldozing students out of the way and nearly knocking Harry to the ground. Harry snarled at him as he passed, and pushed Hermione behind him to keep her from an errant flying limb or fist. She narrowly missed falling into Colin Creevey. As always, he stood toward the back of the fray to garner the least amount of attention, his face a picture of misery.

"Bloody hell," exhaled Ron loudly as he gaped at the two young men scrambling to beat each other senseless. Draco gave another furious roar at something Nott said and hammered his fist into Theodore's kidney, baring his teeth and bleeding from his nose and lip like a feral animal. Beside Ron, Lavender gave him a poke in the ribs.

"Not now Lav. This's getting good," said Ron keeping his eyes glued to the scuffle.

"Ron," hissed Lavender in an annoyed tone. "Look at your sister!"

Ron whirled to eye Lavender at once. "Ginny? Where!?"

Lavender rolled her eyes at him and pointed toward the very front of the crowd opposite him. Ron strained to peer past Snape, who was now grabbing at both boys and trying without success to pry them apart. Ginny stood dwarfed by a couple of cheering seventh year Gryffindor boys, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. A few tears stole down her cheeks as she watched the fight.

"Wha…" began Ron, flabbergasted. "What the bloody hell is she doing here!? She's supposed to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

Lavender clucked her tongue impatiently at him. "Well I suppose you might find that out by going over and asking her while Professor Snape is busy, mightn't you?"

Ron merely nodded, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and threaded his way through the crowd toward his sister. But as he neared her, it became quite clear from the look she shot him that she was by no means in the mood for explaining herself.

"Ginny…why aren't you…"began Ron above the din.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ginny closed her eyes briefly and shot him a warning look. "Just leave me alone, Ron…please."

Ron looked as if it was beyond his better judgement to do so, but having been on the receiving end of Ginny's temper too many times before, he merely nodded at her, puzzled, and headed back toward Harry and Hermione, who was looking Ginny's way with concern.

Snape finally realised he wasn't going to be able to yank the two fighting boys apart physically. Furiously, he snatched his wand from his robes and bellowed out a spell.

"Difflare!"

Draco and Theodore were immediately shoved apart by an unseen hand and thrown opposite each other to the floor, breathing heavily.

For his part, Draco seemed the less scathed of the two. His normally slick blonde hair fell wildly abound his head, and a cut near his eye dribbled blood down his face, as well as a deeper one on his lip, already beginning to swell. Harry could see a large reddened area on one cheek that would likely be turning into a great purple bruise. His robes were dusty and ripped in places, one sleeve almost completely torn off and his prefects badge now hanging from his tattered robes by only a torn shred of material. The cut and nicked swollen knuckles of his right hand showed obvious signs of recent hard use.

The most obvious place they'd been used was Nott's face. One already small brown eye was already swollen shut, and his nose bled freely from both nostrils. When he turned to the side to spit a mouthful of blood and saliva on the floor, much to Parvarti and Lavender's disgust, Harry could swear he heard a tooth clatter to the floor along with it. His robes were equally ripped, tattered and dirty from the castle floor. He seemed to be reeling a bit as well, no doubt from some of the well placed blows to the head he had received from Malfoy, who was now standing as still as a stone wall opposite him and glaring at him with a snarling face full of hatred.

Breathing heavily, Nott coughed and again spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor, glaring at Malfoy with a completely gobsmacked expression. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Draco!? She's a Gryffindor for Salazar's sake! I was only telling the truth! I didn't deserve any of that shit! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"NEITHER DID SHE!" Draco bellowed in reply, swiping at his mouth with a torn sleeve and beginning to stomp forward again. Harry quickly strode out from the crowd and snatched Draco's left arm before Draco suddenly hissed in pain and yanked it furiously from his grasp. Harry fixed him with a hard look of warning and shook his head slightly at him.

"Don't touch me, Potter." Malfoy glared at him rigidly, his gaze full of hatred…and something else Harry couldn't define.

Puzzlement washed over Harry's features before he spoke up roughly. "Leave it. You're in enough trouble as it is."

" 'Leave it'…right. You're one to talk," snorted Malfoy spitefully.

"So," began Nott again with an ugly sneer. Snape was currently distracted snapping loudly at students to return to the classroom. "You lied then…all to throw daddy off your trail, no doubt. What would he do if he knew his son'd gone soft?"

Before he realised what he was doing, Draco absently raised a hand to touch his left bicep. Nott's eyes flickered down to the hand and then back up in an instant; his jaw falling open with sudden realisation. He spoke again in an awed whisper.

"What's he already done?"

A flash of alarm suddenly passed over Malfoy's face and he dropped the hand quickly. Harry glanced at the two, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as if the answer to something he hadn't even asked a question to was just out of his reach. But Malfoy was spared a reply by Snape, who suddenly reappeared from his classroom to stomp between the two boys.

"Silence!" He hissed out furiously.

Most of the other students had already retreated from Snape's fury to the relative safety of the classroom, including Crabbe and Goyle who'd slunk away earlier like a couple of fat, oily snakes. Only Harry, Malfoy, Nott, and Ginny, who was still gazing at Malfoy with a mixture of hurt and scepticism, remained behind.

Snape approached the four looking by all accounts like a greasy black panther stalking its prey. He circled them menacingly until his eyes fell on Harry.

"Potter," he drawled, eyeing Harry through narrowed, hateful eyes. "What do you have to do with all of this…"

Harry gaped at him. It was obvious he'd shown up same time everyone else had. "Not a thing."

"You don't honestly think I believe you," Snape snarled. "You're far too arrogant for your own good, as usual. You'll be serving detention this weekend along with Malfoy and Nott."

"What!?" Harry bellowed furiously, his hands closing into fists. "I had nothing to do with this and you know it! I showed up same time as all the others! Besides Gryffindor has a game on Saturday!"

Snape favoured him with a scheming smile. Malfoy glanced from one to the other, offering nothing but blank detachment, but Ginny decided to speak up.

"Professor Snape I've been here the whole time…Harry had nothing to do with it; in fact he stopped Malfoy attacking Nott again."

Snape smirked coldly and kept his eyes on Harry. "Then detention for existing, Potter. Now get to class."

Bloody hell… Harry flushed, looked very much as if he would like to wrap his hands round Snape's throat and squeeze until his eyeballs popped out. He shot the Professor a look of purest loathing, which had a much greater effect on Snape than it had ever done before since Harry was now almost taller than he. Snape wrapped his fingers round his wand, mentally begging Potter to do anything to give him reason to blast him, but Harry merely scowled at him and entered the classroom.

Looking thoroughly satisfied with himself, Snape turned his attention back toward the remaining three, his gaze piercing them once again. He turned toward Ginny first. "Ms. Weasley…last I checked you'd not graduated to seventh year potions; in fact, I'm most certain none of the Weasleys will ever make it to a N.E.W.T. level class. Therefore I'm inclined to ask what you think you are doing here."

Ginny alternated glaring from him to the others and opening and closing her mouth as she fished for a plausible excuse.

"As I thought," sneered Snape. "I suggest you get out from my sight and to your next class."

Ginny wanted to have to explain the situation about as much as she wanted to be hexed with boils, so with a last betrayed glance toward Draco, she mutely turned on her heel and headed down the empty hallway. Draco watched her go, his expression carefully neutral. When she had turned the corner out of sight, Snape turned his wrath on the final two students remaining in the hallway.

"I WILL NOT tolerate behaviour of this nature from my own house; grappling about on the floor like some excitable, asinine Gryffindor…" he seethed contemptuously. He narrowed his eyes angrily at Malfoy, "Especially from a Slytherin PREFECT."

Again Malfoy stared at Snape, blankly unaffected. Nott opened his mouth to speak but Snape whirled nastily toward him. "NOT..A..WORD. I don't want to know what started this little melee; I couldn't care less. But be forewarned… If my class is ever interrupted as such by either of you two ever again, Slytherin or not, I'll have you expelled."

He whirled from them, striding inside and obviously expecting them to follow. Nott shot Malfoy a filthy look and made to head inside as well, but Malfoy stepped in front of him, piercing him with steely grey eyes. When he spoke his voice was low and very even.

"If I hear you speak about Ginny Weasley like that ever again, I'll tear you apart."

Nott wanted to point out that he'd got the rumour from reliable sources; that he'd got Ginny's reputation from none other than Draco Malfoy's very own father; his son's words passed on as a joke to Theodore's father during a Death Eaters meeting as a way of once again insulting the Weasley family. But something in the way Malfoy looked at him kept him silent.

As Theodore stepped around him to head into the classroom, Malfoy following, it occurred to him that Draco had finally chosen his side, and it most certainly did not seem to be the same Lucius Malfoy or most of the other Slytherins had chose.

Nott smiled grimly as he dumped himself into a seat and licked another droplet of blood absently from his lips. Draco might soon enough find out just how dangerous wrong choices could be; although it seemed he might have already done just that…

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

Surprisingly enough for Harry, Hermione and Ron, double Potions class went just as it did any other day that afternoon, with Snape either ignoring them as usual, or finding any excuse he could to belittle a Gryffindor, no matter who it was. He had never been particularly fussy about his victims unless it concerned Harry Potter.

As the three headed out from the classroom and towards Advanced DADA, surrounded by fifty or so Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years who couldn't stop talking on the row they'd seen before class, Ron took the opportunity to cross-examine Harry over what Snape had said to him to make him enter the classroom after them so angrily.

"He did WHAT!?" shouted Ron, incensed.

"Gave me detention," answered Harry. "The whole weekend…with Nott and Malfoy, no less."

Ron gripped his wand tighter in his hand, enraged. "What for!?"

" 'What for!?' It's obvious, isn't it?" Harry shot at him, pointedly. "For absobloodylutely nothing, that's what, the grotty git. He's never needed a reason, has he?"

Hermione gazed up at him with concern. "But Harry don't you have a match against Ravenclaw this wee…"

"We sure as hell do, and he knows it! Greasy scrote…" Ron interjected furiously.

Hermione blushed scarlet. "RON!"

Ron ignored her. "Harry, tell me you're going to Dumbledore on this…"

Harry paused. "No, I don't think so."

"What…Why not!?" Ron yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "Are you mad!? He'll overturn Snape for sure; he knows he's always shafting you! Anyway, you're Quidditch captain, mate. You have to be there."

"Ron," began Hermione in the tone that usually drove him completely mad. "I think Harry's taking this rather well. Whether or not Professor Snape was right in punishing him, Harry's showing him how to be adult in all this. In the end I think it'll be Professor Snape himself who'll feel ashamed."

Ron goggled at her as if she'd taken complete leave of her senses. Harry rather felt the same, although he decided it would be in his best interests not to show it.

If there was one thing Snape was not, it was humble. He would never admit he'd been wrong; in fact, when it came to punishing Harry, he had proven over and over he really didn't care. But Harry had never been one to concede defeat where the greasy git was concerned; he had his own agenda.

Ron turned his gobsmacked expression back to Harry. "So…You going to tell me WHY you're just going along with this or do you want to leave me in suspense?"

"Something strange happened between Malfoy and Nott while Snape was making everyone get back to the classroom," said Harry. "I want to find out what it was."

"What," smirked Ron. "Did they finally admit they were a couple of fairies and start snogging?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "Ron, for the love of Godric…"

"No," Harry smirked back at him. "Actually it was more something Malfoy did. Nott was banging on about Lucius opinion of his son now he's gone 'soft' and Malfoy sort of…rubbed at his arm, like something's happened. It's just a suspicion, but I'm curious all the same."

Hermione gawped up at him as they entered Lupin's classroom. "Harry…you don't think…"

"I dunno," said Harry more quietly as he nodded to his father and the three took seats near the front. "But it's worth checking. When else will I get the chance?"

Ron conceded with a sigh and finally nodded. "Alright then. I can be Quidditch captain for one game if you think it's important. Ginny'll have to play seeker again, I guess; she wasn't half bad…Not you, though…"

"Thanks mate."

Hermione took a moment to glance over Malfoy's way and then turned back to gaze at Harry and Ron. "Malfoy…a Death Eater? It sounds strange I know, but I've really never believed once it came down to it he'd actually take the mark."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "I just thought he'd be too chickenshit to do it."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed with a scandalised glower. Harry smirked playfully at her.

"Well if it's true I'm glad Ginny broke with the bloody gump," said Ron. "I don't care if he was defending her over whatever Nott said… I won't have him near her again."

He paused and glanced over to where Malfoy now sat at the back of the class, still battered but perched stoically upright in his desk. He shot him a vicious glare, but when Malfoy caught his gaze he merely sneered at him and looked away. Ron frowned. That was most certainly an un-Malfoy like thing to do; it was unlike him not to go farther with it… Just what had happened to him?

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

Saturday came round much too quickly for Harry, and since he was currently spooned so warmly with Hermione in his bed in the early morning grey-lighted room, he decided rather than leave to start his punishment himself, that he would make Snape send for him.

The smell of Hermione's hair, even the fabric of her pyjamas against his bare chest relaxed Harry into the familiar feeling of home. He wrapped an arm round her stomach and pushed his hand under her top rubbing slow circles on her stomach until he felt her stir against him. He tried backing his hips from her a bit as her movements began waking parts of his body he preferred to stay asleep at the moment, until he saw a smile creep onto her face.

Harry growled down at her and although her eyes were still closed, her smile widened.

"Enjoying yourself?" he whispered down to her.

Hermione cracked one eye open. "Tormenting you? Always."

"You're evil, you know."

"I know."

Harry decided to do a little tormenting himself and, before she knew what was happening, he had flipped her from her side onto her back, straddled her and pinned her arms beneath his knees.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh Harry, don't…"

"Don't what?" Harry asked innocently.

"Please, you know I can't stand it," begged Hermione desperately, squirming beneath him.

Harry flushed and adjusted his position. "Stop that!"

"What?"

"Stop moving like that!" said Harry flushing slightly. Hermione found a blushing barechested Harry cute as hell and couldn't resist moving again. Harry scowled down at her.

"Alright, you've done it. I was gonna be merciful but…"

Harry dug his fingers into her ribs and Hermione began laughing and wriggling even more until he found it almost impossible to keep her pinned underneath him without a certain part of him reacting. He rolled off her but still pulled her to him and attacked her sides.

Hermione screamed shrilly and tried wrapping her arms round her ribs but Harry simply attacked the back of her knees. "HARRY! Stop please! Stop, I'm sorry! Please!"

Harry grinned at her and grabbed an ankle, his fingernails running along the underside of her foot. "Apologise…"

"I DID!" Hermione cried, jerking spasmodically. Harry narrowly missed a kick to the face.

"I didn't hear it." Harry continued his torture.

"Yes you did, you git!" Hermione growled and then kicked and screamed again as Harry's fingers made it to the back of her thighs and pinched her butt. "Oh Merlin stop…STOP! I'M SORRY! PLEASE!"

Harry paused for a moment and Hermione fell back against the bed, breathing raggedly.

"Hmmm…"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Wh…what…"

"Tell me what a great wizard I am."

"You stuck-up clot," began Hermione, but Harry again raised claw-like hands and put them to her sides to tickle her.

"ALRIGHT!" Hermione laughed. "You're a great wizard."

Harry pretended to search her face for honesty. "How great?"

"The greatest ever born," said Hermione, and then let her eyes drag down his body and back up to his face and messy black hair appreciatively. "And the best looking, though I'm certainly biased."

Harry pretended to be satisfied and twisted as if to hop from the bed but then turned back to her. "Noooo…that won't do." He attacked her again.

Hermione laughed and screamed again as Harry wiggled his fingers into an armpit and then squeezed the base of her neck, grinning evilly. He knew all of her spots…

"HARRY! S..STOP IT RIGHT NOW, I M..MEAN IT!"

Harry laughed out loud as he attacked the back of her legs and again gave her butt a pinch. "Once more with feeling…"

"STOP IT YOU BLOODY GIT!"

Harry finally stopped his torture and fell back onto the bed laughing maniacally until Hermione threw herself onto him and began a frenzied attack on his own ribs. She loved it when he thrashed about and laughed high-pitched like a young boy…

The tickle torture soon grew into more passionate touching and before Hermione knew it, Harry had rolled her beneath him and both were kissing desperately. Very soon, his tongue began moving against hers in the same hot, slow, methodical way his hips were moving…

No… Hermione thought heatedly. Most definitely not a young boy…

He slid a hand down her side and hip and over to the inside of her thigh, feeling more than hearing her pant into his mouth. Damn her for moving like she was…

Harry slid his mouth from hers and steadily kissed a burning trail down her neck, suckling on her collarbone and lower. As he moved, his wild black hair tickled the side of her cheek and then under her chin, and Hermione felt a thrill travel from her chest straight downward. She gripped at his bare shoulders, marvelling to herself how painfully erotic such a small, normally insignificant thing could be…

Harry's hands moved to rest on the lightly covered, soft rounded sides of her breasts, his tongue and lips moving down the few open buttons of her nightshirt to lave its way between them. Hermione sighed and dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his back, sliding them up over his shoulders and down his defined chest to his nipples, bringing her mouth to his neck and suckling in just the way she knew he liked. He was so hard against her… She breathed in his unique scent, marvelling at how familiar she'd become with it…

Harry moved his mouth back to hers and felt her touch her tongue to his once again. Gods she tasted good, like honey…like Hermione…

He rolled her on top of him, his hands travelling over her back and sweeping over her butt, to pinch it again playfully. He felt her grin into his mouth and playfully dig a few fingers into his ribs. She pulled back to ask when he had decided to keep his wand in his boxers, and Harry replied with a naughty smirk that he had yet to use this particular 'magic wand' on her but was heartily looking forward to it.

He had just begun to describe the 'wood' it was made from when Hermione gave a scandalised huff and tackled him yet again.

They continued playing on for some time, snogging, laughing and tickling until both had rumpled the bed covers into a completely wrecked state.

A knock on the portrait door followed by a tiny voice: "Trespasser… Miscreant…Knave! Have at thee!" alerted them to the fact that playtime was over.

Harry let his head slam back to the pillow with a miserable muffled thud. "Time for detention…"

Hermione frowned sympathetically.

"Stand and fight! Beslubbering boar-pig! Coward!" CLANG! Cadogen must've fallen from his horse again…

"Shut up you little nutter!" Came a familiar muffled voice from the other side. "Harry open up mate, it's Ron…"

Harry threw some jeans on, padded to the door, and caught the familiar tiny 'swish, swish' of Cadogen's sword, followed by another clattering of armour. An evil grin spread slowly across his face. "Ron? How'd I know it's really you?"

"…What!? 'Course it's me! Who'd you think it is!?" Thwip! A tiny arrow sounded, followed by several more…

Harry smirked. "I dunno, your voice is a bit high for Ron… Professor McGonnagol, is that you?"

"Thou art an ill-bred molewart! I shall storm thy castle and seize thy native lands! A pox on thee!"

Ron huffed angrily. "Harry, you sod… Open up or I'll slice the titchy shortarse right from his portrait!"

Harry chuckled and swung the door open to reveal a scowling, greatly annoyed Ron gripping his wand and dressed in full Quidditch gear.

"Ho, ha ha! The coward flees the fight! The birds of prey shall feast on thine entrails!"

Ron stepped inside and slammed the portrait door shut behind him, punching Harry hard in the arm right after. Outside, Cadogen raved on.

"Bastard. When are you and Hermione gonna switch him with a SANE portrait!?"

"He grows on you." Harry shrugged noncommittally.

Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Right."

"Well I'm glad it's you," Harry grinned as a fully dressed Hermione came out from his room. "Wasn't quite ready for detention, you know."

"Well hold that thought mate," scowled Ron grumpily. "Snape met me as I was headed out with the team to practice. Thought it'd be right hilarious to send me for you, I guess. Says to be at his classroom in a half hour."

Harry's grin faded and he turned to see Hermione beaming approvingly at him. "I'm not doing this to be a better man, 'Mione. It's just information I want."

Ron smirked down at her.

"I know!" said Hermione gruffly. "But it doesn't hurt Professor Snape might see it that way, does it?"

Harry sighed.

Harry dragged his feet, his hands jammed around his robes into the pockets of his worn jeans, and his damp hair, freshly washed from the shower he'd just taken, either sticking up all over the place or laying in clumps against his forehead. The long trudge to Snape's office was not a pleasant one, though Harry knew he could easily have told Dumbledore the situation and had the Potion professor's detention thrown out. But Harry had no wish to appear a spoiled little boy who tattled his abuse to the adoring Headmaster. The thought of it made him queasy. Besides if he had gone that route Snape would loathe him more than he had ever before done, and there was no reason to further fuel the Potion professors hatred of him.

As he walked, Harry's thoughts took a swift turn back to fifth year when he had been left alone in Snape's office during an Occlumency lesson, and he had dared rather recklessly to take a peek into the professor's pensieve left unguarded on his desk.

He remembered as he had seen into the misty silver depths, how his father's behaviour toward Snape had sickened him, and how unfair the attack on him had seemed. James, it appeared, had been arrogant and extremely fond of himself, and had decided in order to make himself appear better, especially where Lily Evans was concerned, that he would torment more unpopular students; even one's who seemed to have been minding their own business and did not deserve it. Harry's high opinion of his father had plunged drastically as of that moment, but Sirius had later on helped him realise he was only seeing Snape's biased memories in the pensieve, and what he had seen was not necessarily how the event had actually occurred. From then on, Harry had learned to be sceptical of the accuracy of any events seen in a pensieve as they could be skewed by the person's point of view.

After this, Harry had decided to reserve his opinion of his father until he had found out more from Sirius, and eventually, he did. Snape and James, much like Harry and Draco Malfoy, had been bitter enemies in school from the start, and were constantly after each other in one way or the other. James, it seemed, hated the dark arts, which Snape had been deeply involved with. Consequently, James had also wanted Snape kept as far away from Lily as possible. He'd never missed an opportunity to lessen Snape in her eyes, though most of the time, it only served to make her angry with him and sympathetic toward Snape.

Snape on the other hand, had been as infatuated with Lily Evans as James Potter, and in his own gruff, awkward way had unsuccessfully tried to woo her. He was also jealous of James and Sirius' popularity in school, though he had tried to mask it by making as if he hated who they were because of it.

Sirius' different point of view had served to make Harry think his father might have not been such a bad wizard after all; just normal. This was definitely a good thing, as he would learn two years later his father was still alive.

Harry paused outside the Potion master's classroom and closed his eyes for a few moments before entering. Time free to let one's brain wander where it would was not always necessarily a good thing. Today it had served only to remind Harry of the even more chaotic turn his life had taken recently, and the fact that with Voldemort's now renewed threat, the madness was far, far from over. He just hoped spending detention with Lucius Malfoy's son might give him some type of information into Voldemort's dealings.

Harry rapped sharply on the classroom door, averting his eyes rather embarrassed as two fifth year Ravenclaws passed by on their way to watch Gryffindor practice and gave him an odd look.

The door swung open and, much to Harry's non-surprise, Snape stood at the front along with a sullen Malfoy and Nott looking in a particularly nasty, but satisfied mood.

"Good you could join us, Potter. You're ten minutes late."

Harry ignored him and ambled up to the front, avoiding Malfoy and Nott's gazes much as they were avoiding his.

Snape waltzed round his desk and yanked out from behind it a large, black cauldron, slamming it down on the first table he came upon. He then turned and gestured towards the huge bookshelf lining the east wall of the classroom.

"I've acquired a great lot of specimens throughout my years as a Potion's master. The top shelves consist of dried roots, plants and such, but the bottom shelves hold ingredients which must be suspended in a preserving solution."

Harry eyed row upon row of slimed, sometimes scaly looking plants and creatures floating in jars of murky yellowish fluid and felt his stomach give an odd churn. He could only imagine the stench that must come from one of those opened jars. That might explain Snape's particular scent, he thought with a smirk of satisfaction. Both Nott and Malfoy looked a bit sickened as well.

To Harry's regret, Snape had been studying him.

"I'm glad you find this amusing Potter. We'll see if through the weekend you can keep that smile." Snape narrowed his eyes at the three and pointed lazily at the cauldron and then back at the bookshelf. "You three will be brewing a new vat of pickling potion to re-preserve each and every one of these."

Nott blanched. "Professor Snape there's got to be at least two hundred jars there!"

"And that's why I've been so gracious as to allow you the whole weekend to accomplish it, Theodore." He smiled genuinely at the way all three faces suddenly fell and whirled to stride toward a bookshelf across the room. After a moment of searching the shelves, he plucked out a thick, dusty black volume and walked back over to toss it onto the desk with a loud bang. The Complete Primer of Preserving Potions stared back at them in large gold letters from the book's cover.

"I was quite dreading this task, I have to admit," continued Snape as he made lazily for the classroom door. "Luckily for me you three fell into it. In that book will be all the instruction you will need, along with every ingredient you'll need in the usual supply cabinet. Certain of the items you may find will require a different potion. If I find upon my return this evening you three were lazy in your research and have destroyed any of my specimens, the consequences will be most dire. Good day."

The door shut behind him with a loud snap, and Harry, Draco and Theodore were left to scowl nastily at one another.

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

Some three hours later, Harry took a moment from sweating over the steaming cauldron to glance up at Snape's classroom clock. It was one in the afternoon, and as if in reply to Nott's constant complaining about lunch, his stomach growled angrily at him. But as he continued to stir the foul smelling concoction counter-clockwise, Harry was sure the Potion's master would not suddenly decide to grow a conscience and offer them a break to eat. Apparently Malfoy had decided the same.

"Shut your gob Nott, for the love of Salazar," snapped Malfoy roughly as he used a gloved hand to pluck a slimy, dead creature from it's dirty solution and plop it unceremoniously into a jar full of clean stuff. "We're not getting lunch; stop whining."

"I never had breakfast either…"

"Neither did I," said Harry. "Get over it."

Nott growled as he dipped and filled another jar and sent it sliding dangerously toward Malfoy, who grabbed it just before it went crashing to the floor. He slammed it down and turned to scowl dangerously.

"Watch it, you filthy smeg! You want us in more trouble!?"

"Wouldn't have done in the first place if you'd kept your ruddy head about you, you stupid lombard!" Nott dropped the dipping ladle and whirled furiously on Malfoy. "What's with you, anyway!? Coming to the Gryffinwhore's aid…"

Harry whitened with rage. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL…"

But Malfoy roared furiously and lunged at Nott landing a few well-placed punches before Harry could jump at them and finally throw them apart.

"Don't touch me, Scarhead!" roared Draco taking a swing at him as well. Harry threw up his arm and caught the punch on his tricep, shoving Malfoy back at the same time.

"GET OFF IT!" Harry thundered at them. "You want Snape giving us another weekend of detention!?"

Nott, breathing heavily and swiping at yet another bloody lip, spoke up sarcastically. "Oh what…is Potter the Great coming to put an end to the madness again? Go on then, sort us out."

But Harry merely glared furiously at him. "What's all this 'Gryffinwhore' shit you're banging on about!?"

Malfoy gritted his teeth, completely enraged, but Nott merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Harry with a smirk. "Don’t tell me you haven't dipped your wick, Potter. Ginny Weasley's drooled after you for years. Been having a bit of the afternoon delight, aye?"

This time around, it was Malfoy who pulled Harry from Nott, but only after a few punches to the face. Harry shoved him away angrily and stabbed a finger at Nott.

"You bloody bastard! I hear you say anything like that again and I'll rip you a new arsehole unless Ron gets there first! Ginny's like my sister!"

Nott stood shakily, holding his stomach and gesturing toward Malfoy. "Maybe," he grunted. "But Malfoy might tell you different."

Malfoy straightened and lifted his chin reflexively, but Harry could swear he saw a bit of guilt in his eyes.

Harry speared him with a dangerous glare. "You tell me what he's on about or so help me I'll rip you both in two. Or worse, I'll let Ron at you."

Malfoy sneered at him. "You could try."

Harry took a step toward him. "Don't tempt me…"

Malfoy worked his jaw thoughtfully and stared from Nott to Harry, who looked ready to kill. He made his decision quickly and pulled out his wand.

Harry raised a hand, prepared to counter-attack when Malfoy aimed it toward Nott, whose mouth suddenly went slack.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Nott's body snapped together, suddenly rigid, and slammed backward to the floor with a loud thud. His eyes, large with surprise, stared unseeing at the cobwebs waving from the ceiling.

Harry glanced a bit confused from one to the other, and Malfoy watched as he slowly lowered his hand.

"Forgot about the wandless magic," sneered Malfoy sarcastically, shoving his wand back into his robes. "Potter the Great seems an appropriate name, doesn't it?"

"Slag off," said Harry testily. He turned toward the cauldron he'd forgotten and scourgified the now thick green contents with a wave of his hand. The mess disappeared instantly, and he turned back toward Malfoy who now sat perched lazily on the edge of a desk.

"I lied to my father," said Malfoy simply.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "About?"

"Ginny," Malfoy sighed.

Harry set his jaw angrily and glared at him. Draco seemed to honestly regret it, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be fooled. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep calm. "And she thought you really cared for her…"

"I DO!" bellowed Draco suddenly bolting upright.

"THEN WHY!?"

"Because father found out about us, that's why!" continued Draco, suddenly beginning a frustrated pace about the room. "I tried to break with her before anyone could see and let him in on it…"

"You mean any of the other damn Slytherins," said Harry with a contemptuous sneer.

"Yeah Potter… the other damn Slytherins," Draco whirled on him with a hard sarcasm to his voice and jabbed a finger toward the rigid prone form of Nott. "But that bastard had already told his father, who let mine in on, you see?"

Harry stood. "They're both in the same costume club, I guess," he shot out sarcastically. "Black hoods and slitted eyes, right?"

"You're missing the point as usual, Scarhead," seethed Malfoy.

"Enlighten me," Harry growled back.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him and made a fist as if to punch something from frustration. "I had to make father believe Ginny was just a…distraction."

"So you thought you'd take the easy way out, and now half the school thinks Ginny's some sort of slag," Harry shot back.

"Easy way out…" Malfoy whirled back toward him, a look of utter hatred on his face and took a step forward, but seemed to think better of it in an instant. For one brief moment he'd raised a hand as if to touch his bicep again but caught himself in time and dropped it. "You don't know shit, Potter."

But Harry hadn't missed the sudden movement, nor had he missed the expression that had flitted over Malfoy's face when he'd realised what he'd almost given away. He leaned against Professor Snape's desk, watching Malfoy carefully.

"You think you had it so bloody awful growing up," Malfoy continued, looking so full of hate he seemed sick with it. "Having to live with Muggles; knowing your parents were killed by some mental evil wizard who's out to get you now, aye? Poor, sad Potter…that's what everyone thinks, don't they? D'you love all the sympathy you get, Scarhead? D'you love being everyone's bloody hero? D'you stay awake at night thinking on your dead parents; the ones who loved you so..very..much…"

"D'you wish your father was dead?" asked Harry quietly with a blank expression.

"My father is dead, Potter. He's been dead to me for years…just not quite dead enough." Malfoy stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Harry. "What the hell are you on about? As if your fussed over anything I want. And the feeling is wholly mutual, you can be sure."

Harry had never seen someone as consumed with hatred, though he felt as if he sometimes bordered on it when an image of Voldemort burned in his thoughts. The look of pure loathing burning in Malfoy's eyes told Harry much more than what he needed to know. "So you want to kill him, is that it?"

Draco fisted his hands and snarled at Harry. "D'you have a point Scarhead or d'you actually think you're that fascinating to…"

"Is it because he gave you the dark mark?" said Harry finally.

And Malfoy suddenly stopped every motion he'd made, his face completely draining of colour.

Harry watched him work his jaw, a thousand different conflicting emotions crossing his face as if he were a theatre screen set on fast forward. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively, his eyes darting from every corner of the room, to Nott now moving a bit on the floor, to the door behind Harry as if possibly contemplating escape. He looked as if he had no where to run.

Nott sat up slowly, his eyes fixed on the two young men facing each other. But rather than the look of confusion Harry and Malfoy had expected, Theodore's eyes were widened with triumph, and since the spell was now fully worn off he stood, although slowly owing to the hard fall he'd taken.

"You do know the petrifaction charm does nothing toward a person's hearing," he breathed out, his face a mirror of excitement. He moved toward the other two sneering, and gave a short scoffing laugh. "Knew it moment we fought in the hallway, but until now I've had no proof. I saw you grab at your arm when I'd got hold of it, Malfoy… Guess daddy wouldn't let his son embarrass OR betray him, would he?"

At the sudden murderous look on Malfoy's face, Harry knew he might be contemplating something desperate and shifted a bit where he was, ready to take action if necessary. But Malfoy and he were roughly the same build and height…

Malfoy stood, eyeing Nott with a very dangerous snarl. "You say a WORD to anyone on ANY of this you grotty little bastard and…"

"What…" Nott chuckled derisively. "You try anything else and you'll be chucked out of Hogwarts so fast you won't know until your arse hits the street. And now you have nowhere to go, do you? Poor little rich wizard… There's loads of people who'd love to hear this, I think…"

Malfoy moved toward him with fists raised, all thoughts of using his wand gone from his head as his body throbbed with fury. But Nott whipped out his own wand and aimed it, cocking his head at him. Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"Scared I've got something on you now, Malfoy? You should be…I'm telling the first load of Slytherins I come across…"

"Obliviate!"

Nott suddenly blinked, confused, and then took a few moments to stare blankly ahead. Malfoy whirled around.

"No your not," said Harry simply, lowering his hand.

Malfoy stared at him with not a trace of appreciation and instead, scowled angrily. "I don't need your help, damn it. I can take care of my own bloody problems…"

"Bullshit," said Harry.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but next moment the door to the classroom banged open and both boys jumped back, expecting an angry Snape to begin hexing them for their lack of anything to show for hours spent 'working'.

Professor McGonnagol rushed in, her black teachers robes billowing behind her. With her nostrils flaring, her lips set in a thin line, and her face white with fear, even Nott, who still looked as if he wasn't sure where the last half hour had just gone, could tell something was drastically wrong.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but she waved her hands frantically at him. "No time Potter. Come with me, NOW."

"Professor, I'm in detention," said Harry. "If I leave, Snape'll have my head…"

"Charlie, Bill and Arthur Weasley were just attacked," said McGonnagol briskly, her voice cracking a bit. "Dumbledore wants to see you straight away."

Both Harry and Malfoy started with surprise, but for very different reasons, and Harry ran out of the room after her, leaving Malfoy thinking more heavily than he had done even previously, on Ginny.

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

Chapter 29: First Victims

Harry pounded quickly down the dimly lit hallways after Professor McGonnagol, whose face was tightly drawn and very pale; and although he was now a good three inches taller than her, he was surprised at the difficulty he was having keeping up with her pace.

Charlie, Bill and Mr. Weasley attacked… an image of their bodies, hopelessly mangled and twisted almost beyond recognition, flashed in his mind as he ran. A cold shiver travelled through Harry's body. If they were dead, well… he knew whose fault it would be.

They came to an abrupt halt in front of the twin stone gargoyles that marked the entranceway to Dumbledore's office. McGonnagol was completely breathless after running, and rightly so owing to her age, so Harry barked out 'sherbet lemon' for her.

The gargoyles leapt aside, and the stone staircase behind them suddenly groaned to life, scraping and grinding its way upward. Harry and Professor McGonnagol hopped a step and were wound swiftly upward toward Dumbledore's office, finally stopping on the warmly lit first floor.

Harry was not surprised to see Ron and Ginny already there waiting. The late afternoon sun streamed orange and dark yellow through the great window behind Dumbledore's desk, illuminating both of their equally stricken expressions as they paced trails into the scarlet carpet of the room; both dressed in moderately soiled Quidditch gear. Ron glanced up from chewing on his nails to see Harry and McGonnagol enter and dropped his hand to quickly stride over to Harry.

"You've heard?"

Harry nodded, noting with concern how Ron's face had paled to such a shade of white that his brown freckles stood out sharply in contrast. Ginny's less dotted complexion was equally as pale, though long wet trails now marred her pink cheeks.

"Professor, any news?" Ginny asked with dread as she strode toward Professor McGonnagol.

"Not yet," said McGonnagol grimly, "but he's only just left, Ms. Weasley. We must give the Headmaster time to meet with the rest of the Aurors to find out exactly what your father and brothers were doing; and more importantly, where they were when attacked. It'll be vital information for the Order's next move."

Ron whirled angrily on her and yelled. "But we don't even know if they're dead or alive! He could at least come back and let us in on that bit before he just sends a message our family's been attacked and runs off to investigate the whole bloody thing!"

McGonnagol sighed in understanding. "Ronald, the note Professor Dumbledore received was scrawled out so quickly; whoever wrote it obviously had no time to go into detail. The fact of the matter is when the Headmaster portkeyed for St. Mungo's he himself knew nothing of their states. As soon as he has word he'll let us in on straight away, I'm sure. He doesn't want you left in agony any more than I do."

She eyed them sympathetically as they stood closely together looking by all accounts, lost. "Try not to worry until we've got word… Please, won't you two have a seat…try to calm down a bit?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly still staring at the carpet as she paced. For his part, Ron goggled at the Professor with such disbelief that she felt forced to look away.

"So he's not even here?" said Harry, finally able to edge into the conversation.

McGonnagol shook her head and made her way round Dumbledore's dark polished desk to plop wearily into the wingback chair. "Fortunately I was here with him when he received the message or you three wouldn't be here even now. He had just enough time to tell me to have you three waiting in his office when he returned before he left straight to London for the hospital."

No sooner had the words finished leaving her mouth than a huge, bright green fire erupted in the grate of the fireplace with a loud whooshing sound, leaving after it a cloud of smoky ash, and a rolled up piece of parchment.

Ron practically dove for it and grabbed it up, tearing at the small red tie holding it closed. Ginny, Harry and Professor McGonnagol quickly gathered round, all peering anxiously down at it.

Minerva,

Have Ronald and Virginia portkey to St. Mungo's

straight away. Molly Weasley will be in the lobby waiting

for them. Harry and Hermione may accompany them if

they wish it. I should return shortly; until that time

please act as Headmistress in my stead.

Albus Dumbledore, H.M.

Ginny slapped her hands over her mouth and gave a sudden muffled sob. "Oh gods… If they were alright he would've said in the note… he would've said, I KNOW IT! Oh gods Ron… "

Ron looked very much as if he agreed with her and only had the energy at the moment to wrap a hand about her trembling shoulders.

McGonnagol's eyes quickly swept the office for some suitable object to be used as a porkey, when they finally landed on Dumbledore's purple and gold starred nightcap hanging limply near his dressing gown on a coat rack in the corner. Finding it to be as good as anything else, she grabbed it and headed towards the three teens standing and staring miserably at each other.

Ron's frightened gaze locked with Harry's as the professor approached. "I guess…m..maybe they were the first targets."

Harry screwed up his face in an attempt to control himself, feeling very much as if he would like nothing more than to melt down into the hardwood floor of Dumbledore's office and dissolve until he was no more.

He desperately wanted to run to them before they vanished into disorientating swirls from the portkey; to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness for allowing them and their family into his life, and as a result, for dooming them to danger and possible death. But the shame that tightened his throat, stung his eyes, and churned coldly in his stomach, only allowed him to stand and stare.

Ron swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "You'll be following us over, then?"

Harry paused quietly.

"If you want."

Ron frowned at him. "Wh… 'course we do… And bring Hermione too, all right?" He looked down at Ginny who stared ahead, terrified. "We'll be needing the both of you, I think."

McGonnagol moved tentatively toward Ron and Ginny and handed him the nightcap. He held it limply in his hands.

"Both of you grab onto it," she said in a strained voice, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the cap. "Y…You'll arrive in the front lobby of the hospital, so…so no worries…Portus!"

Ron and Ginny's forms appeared swirled and disfigured before Harry, until they both coiled into nonexistence with a loud *pop*.

As soon as the both of them had vanished, McGonnagol turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You may go get Ms. Granger now, Mr. Potter. I'll still be here when you return. You can leave straight away."

Harry nodded, feeling as if his head had been stuffed with cotton. Too many emotions fought for control of his thoughts, but guilt and fear raged louder than the others in his mind. They pounded in his head like a resounding deep drum, screaming accusations from the darkest recesses of his mind like a jury that had always lurked there, just waiting to pass judgement. His fault… their lives were on his head… all his fault…

As if in a dream, he moved heavily toward the stone archway that loomed over the downward spiralling staircase, but stopped at a hand that gripped his shoulder.

"Something for you to think on as you go," said McGonnagol; her voice a mixture of compassion and reason.

Harry froze in place, neither turning nor moving.

"Just you remember who did this, you hear me?" Harry nodded miserably once and moved as if to continue on, but she gripped his sturdy shoulder again. "No, look at me, Potter… You..did..not..DO..this. You are NOT to blame. You have no more control over Voldemort's actions than you have over the sun and stars." Her nostrils flared angrily as she continued. "He's held command of your life and emotions for too long, Harry. Don't you give him any more, you hear me? Don't you do it."

Harry found that it had become almost impossibly hard to breathe. He barely heard her as he gently pulled his shoulder from her grasp to jog down the moving staircase into the cold hallways of the school, leaving her, and her empty well-meaning words behind.

As he ran toward the common room he shared with Hermione, Harry felt cold dread begin to trickle down his spine. So it had begun. Voldemort's hatred and jealousy of him had finally begun to catch up with those he loved. Who would be next? Another Weasley; Ron perhaps, his father, Sirius… Hermione?

Harry's every nerve ending electrified with fear. He would NOT ALLOW IT. No matter what he had to do or what he had to sacrifice, he would NOT ALLOW IT. They meant too much…Great Merlin, SHE meant too much. Hermione was worth everything. She was priceless.

Harry passed several students as he jogged past, including Colin Creevey who miserably avoided his gaze, as usual. He passed Snape as well, noting quickly how the Professor looked immediately torn at the thought that his normally rotten behaviour toward Harry was for now, inappropriate. He settled for cold impatience.

"Don't think you're out of detention now Potter," Snape called severely after him. "Tomorrow morning I'll expect you in my classroom."

Harry suppressed the urge to tell him where he could go and decided on ignoring him.

He finally reached his and Hermione's rooms, calling out the password to Sir Cadogen quick enough so as to avoid yet again being challenged to a duel. He could practically feel Cadogen's disappointed frown from beneath his visor.

As he stepped inside, it took Harry only a quick glimpse of Hermione perched on the common room couch to guess what she had been doing. Her wavy hair sat piled atop her head in a messy bun secured by a spare quill, and opened books and parchments littered the area surrounding her. In a lesser situation, Harry would have grinned fondly at her only seconds before tackling her to the floor and snogging her breathless.

Now however, he found himself oddly distant.

Hermione frowned up at him as he approached. "Harry? Surely you've not done with detention already…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but as he looked at her, he found that his throat was too tightly constricted. She sat in front of the glowing fire, her smooth skin and large doe eyes lit with orange and dancing with flame shadows…She was so beautiful, so alive… and he was so unworthy of her…

Hermione noted the strained look on his face and her heart leapt to her throat. She was on her feet and near him in an instant, grasping his hands. "Harry, what is it love… What's happened, tell me…"

"Mr. Weasley," Harry choked out finally. "Bill and Charlie…They've been attacked."

Hermione blanched. "Oh my god…Oh god are..are they…"

"Dunno," said Harry thickly. "I don't know how they are. Dumbledore's already sent for Ron and Ginny. We're to meet them at St. Mungo's."

Hermione swallowed hard, tears now sliding down her cheeks. She moved to circle her arms about him. "Oh Harry…"

But Harry pulled back from her as if her touch burned his skin. "No…no, don't. Don't feel bad for me, Hermione. Save it for Ginny and Ron; they're the ones who need you now, not me."

Hermione studied him carefully as he held her at arms length, avoiding her eyes. Somehow, it terrified her. "But…the Weasley's are like family to you…"

Harry moved from her and grabbed up her cloak, helping her into it. He knew she was staring at him, bewildered, and still he couldn't bring himself to look at her. As an afterthought, he gently pulled the quill from her hair to allow it to tumble free once more. He knew she would forget to take it out.

"LIKE family, Hermione," he said flatly. "But they're not really mine, are they? I have no right to them."

Hermione stared at him and somehow, for some unknown reason, fear began to simmer within her, like a warning signal zinging from every nerve.

Harry shook his head and moved toward the portrait door, his steady façade now built like a wall around him. "Let's go; they'll be needing us."

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

It was strange to Harry, to suddenly appear in the busy reception area of St. Mungo's. The last time he had been here along with the Order, they had walked along the bustling streets of London before stopping in front of an old-fashioned, red brick department store known as Purge and Dowse, Ltd. He had found himself then, staring into the eyes of a shabbily dressed female mannequin that had seemed to have seen better days, before one of the Order had spoken to her. She had then, to Harry's immense surprise, given them a slight nod and beckoned them forward to walk through her glass window; a window that, as they had passed through it, felt to them like a sheet of icy water.

They had come to see Mr. Weasley then too, although that time it had been only him, wounded by Voldemort's incredibly large python, Nagini. At least that time circumstances had turned out all right. Somehow though, Harry felt this time would not turn out the same.

Despite himself, Harry held tightly onto Hermione's hand as they wound their way through the crowd of patients and healers clad in lime-green, to stand in queue behind a few others in front of the reception desk.

A couple of spots in front of them stood a wizard with a small child who had obviously contracted a bad case of dragon pox. He continually pushed her small hand away as she tried to scratch at the scaly spots on her skin. Behind them a wizard, with the long, thin orange legs of a chicken, and a witch, whose body had been mostly turned into a cow, were still bickering loudly with one another. It didn't take many guesses to figure what their argument had been about.

Hermione had just enough time to goggle and point out a slightly red-faced teenaged wizard who had yards of engorged tongue wrapped about one arm as he was led away (Merlin, Harry…d'you think…Fred and George?) before it was their turn to approach the welcome witch.

She was a plump blonde witch dressed in the same lime-green uniform with a crossed bone and wand badge resting on her ample bosom. Her expression was almost blank with boredom as she let her eyes rake blandly over the young couple.

"Well… You two don't look injured. Here to see someone, then?"

Harry swallowed, once again trying to fight around the lump in his throat to speak.

"Arthur, Bill and Charlie Weasley," Hermione supplied quietly for him and squeezed his hand. Harry looked gratefully at her.

The witch took her wand and waved it briefly over the large tattered, yellow ledger in front of her, watching dully as it's pages began to flip by themselves. They stopped fluttering and landed toward the back, and she began tracing down the page with her wand, muttering to herself. Hermione held herself on tiptoe, curious to see how St. Mungo's patient tracking system worked, though Harry had a good view of the book, and the welcome witches suddenly more serious expression.

"Weas…oh. Oh! Oh, Weasley…I umm… This is… is your first time visiting the Weasleys, I gather…"

Harry frowned suspiciously at her. "Yeah, 'course it is. They were only admitted a few hours ago."

"Please, we'd like to see them now," said Hermione urgently.

But the witch only smiled comfortingly to her. "They're on the fourth floor, intensive care unit. But just you let me call the Weasley's Healer first. It might be a good idea for him to talk with you a bit before visiting, I think. If you'll just budge to the side for a moment… that's the way," she waved to the right of her desk. "I'll page him now; he'll be here shortly."

But Harry was having none of it. "What aren't you telling us? What's happened?" A bit behind him, Hermione was beginning to pale.

"Healer Jabilo will be with you shortly," said the blonde witch almost desperately, "Please, he'll explain everything if you'll just wait for him to arrive…"

"Wait my arse," said Harry through gritted teeth. He turned to tell Hermione he was going to head to the fourth floor and find them himself, but she was no longer behind him.

He took a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the crowd when they finally fell on her familiar brown head of curls standing near the lifts, though she was not alone. Harry's father now stood beside her, where both were engaged in conversation. He lifted his head when Hermione pointed Harry's way, and recognition sparked on his face. He waved him over, and Harry moved swiftly to join them. He hadn't even known his father had been informed...

Upon reaching them, he could tell James had been crying. It scared the hell out of him.

"Dad?"

But Lupin merely took Harry by the shoulder. "Come with me, son. Ron's been waiting for you."

He and Hermione entered the lift with him, and as the doors closed on them, Harry knew instinctively that he would rather wait the few moments it took to get to the fourth floor before hearing the bad news. At least for those few moments, they were blissfully unaware.

Upon reaching their desired floor, they walked on, passing numerous doors bearing the names of witches and wizards who had been incorrectly or almost fatally jinxed or hexed with one irremovable spell or another. However, all Harry could allow in his line of vision was the large orange door of the magical intensive care unit looming larger and larger before them as they walked.

The intensive care unit was full of curtained off areas, with healers, their helpers, and relatives of the sick or injured milling about, all looking hopeless and sad. As they passed the warded off areas, they saw loads of patients, all hooked up to one intricate looking machine or another; some awake, some not, and some looking as if they were only just grasping on to life.

Mrs. Weasley's swollen red eyes were the first Harry finally recognised amidst the crowd. Past her, members of the Order stood morosely nearby, though Ginny and Ron were no where in sight.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed, suddenly bustling toward him and squeezing him tightly to her. "Harry, you came...and you too, Hermione. Thank you, thank you…"

Harry stood there woodenly and let her hug him, thinking to himself that she should rather want to hurt him.

"Th...thank you James, I knew they'd probably be down there." She whispered to Lupin, and then turned back to Harry and Hermione, her expression full of pain. "I would rather have you told by myself or R..Ron o..or Ginny…"

Lupin patted Mrs. Weasleys arm, and Hermione looked from one to the other, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I...I've seen it s..so often in my dreams, but somehow... somehow I j..just never really saw it coming. And even after all of the w..wards and charms on the house, it made no d..difference...my god...my god, why..."

Mrs. Weasley was rapidly coming apart, and Hermione suddenly grabbed her in a hug, and then held her at arms length, watching her face twist in agony.

"Please Mrs. Weasley... Tell us what's happened…"

But she had already dissolved into tears and would have fallen to the floor had Harry and his father not caught her in time. Lupin helped her to a seat, when Harry and Hermione saw Fred, and then George walk slowly out from behind one of the curtains. Both faces were a picture of misery as George saw them and waved them over, and the absence of that usual mischievous smirk somehow made Harry sick. He'd never experienced George and Fred like this; it was almost as if he didn't know them.

With Lupin left to console Molly, Harry and Hermione moved tentatively over toward the others. Were it not for the presence of the Order, they would have felt like outsiders, intruding on a family in mourning. But the twins immediately ushered them inside where Ginny and Ron sat closely together in-between two beds, their backs turned. The absence of the third bed was immediately noticed.

"They need you," said Fred quietly. He moved Harry and Hermione inside and let the flap of the heavy sheet drop shut behind them.

Ron and Ginny turned, having heard the noise behind them, and Harry was shocked to see that not only Ginny, but Ron had been crying so hard, his eyes and nose were swollen and red.

"Got them while they were headed out on w..watch... for the Order, you know."

Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his cloak, turning his eyes upward, his face screwed up in an attempt to keep himself from breaking. He had no right to it... He had no right, they weren't his...

Ginny stood and stumbled toward Hermione, who immediately took her into her arms where both girls began crying.

"Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Bill always had the worst temper," said Ron as he held his father's hand from one bed, and Charlie's from the other. Both laid still and pale, tubes and magical devices dripping and beeping all around them. "If he hadn't taken the last one on, Dad would be dead. Was just about to be killed when Bill took the bastard over. I...imagine he gave as good as he got you know... B..before he died."

And Harry's heart sunk like a stone. He had hoped, prayed even, that Bill's absence only meant he had been sent to some other ward; some ward to deal with spells not done here… But somehow, he had known. Mrs. Weasley had lost a son; it had been evident on her face the moment they had clapped eyes on her.

Ron looked up at Harry, and in that moment he looked by all accounts, completely lost. "Thanks for coming, mate. I..we... need you here. You're family, after all."

Harry winced. Family… The word stabbed him as if it were a blade. He turned his gaze back to Hermione and she met his eyes over Ginny's shoulder, her gaze red and watery.

And upon seeing her eyes, Harry broke. He could barely breathe past the painful lump in his throat. His chest constricted and hitched over and over as hot tears splashed down his cheeks. He shook his head as overwhelmed, he stared down at the tile floor. Bill had died because Voldemort wanted to taunt Harry, plain and simple.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, James, the rest of the Weasleys…Surely they would all soon come to realise how all along, he had been selfish in allowing them to love him. He should have refused them when they insisted on being with him. Instead of thinking of his own needs, he should have left them to live their lives in relative peace and safety. He had known all along that some time, a time when he least expected it, his self-service would result in the harm of those he had kept close to him. He had been too weak; he had broken. He had allowed people into his life, and as a result, they were all now beginning to pay. And the price was too immeasurably high.

He tried to speak clearly, but his throat could only strangle out a whisper. "Ron…"

"Don't Harry," said Ron quietly, beckoning a hand out to him. "Don't. Just come sit with us."

Hermione led Ginny to a chair next to Harry and moved to Ron, where she leaned over and hugged him from behind. Ron sagged into the hug gratefully.

Harry sat immobile as a statue staring at Mr. Weasley and Charlie, feeling the complete irony of a situation totally reversed from his childhood. For once, he was surrounded by too many caring souls.

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

Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

No Man Is an Island

Traditional / by Ingemar Olsson

" ...No man is an island, no man stands alone

Each man's joy is joy to me

Each man's grief is my own

We need one another, so I will defend

Each man as my brother

Each man as my friend."

"Harry…" Hermione tried quietly.

But still he said nothing, a miserable, strained expression on his face, and moved determinedly forward in the now torchlit halls of the school towards their quarters. Hermione swallowed painfully. They had spent the remainder of the day in the intensive care ward of St. Mungo's with the Weasleys until Mrs. Weasley had made them leave, only due to pure exhaustion. They had protested, exclaiming over and over that they would rather stay for Ron, Ginny and the twins; to be there when Mr. Weasley and Charlie came out from their unconscious states, but Mrs. Weasley had been insistent. Tomorrow was Sunday, she had reminded them, and they were well in need of a day of rest. She had promised Ron and Ginny would be back with them soon as for now they were staying nights at the Burrow, and had even managed to choke out that she would floo Dumbledore information for them on Bill's funeral arrangements before she had fallen completely apart again, supported on either side by Fred and George.

They had portkeyed back to Dumbledore's office where he had been waiting for them, but the wise Headmaster had decided with one swift glance over Harry, that he was in no shape to discuss anything this night.

The day had been horrific enough without knowing Harry blamed himself for Bill's death. It was too much to handle. And if it was too much for her, Hermione knew Harry must be in absolute agony.

He had been distant and almost silent all day long, and though Hermione was not a skilled Legilimense by any stretch of the imagination, she had known Harry for so long she could practically read him inside and out. She could almost see the thoughts playing out on his face.

Their hands stayed clasped together as they walked, but Harry held hers loosely and far enough away from his body so that when their arms swayed they would not brush against one another. Almost as if human contact burned him; as if he was unworthy of it; as if he was sure now his company, possibly even his very touch was a prelude to doom.

And the thought that Harry felt these things was so evident to Hermione that she felt sick with it.

Harry even managed to enter their common room completely ignoring the insane antics of Sir Cadogen as they brushed past him. He made to let go of Hermione's hand and began heading immediately toward his room, but she would have none of it.

"Harry, stop."

"It's late Hermione; I'm tired…We can talk in the morning." He managed to release her hand and turned to move toward his door.

Hermione stared at his back for a moment. "Whose room do you want to sleep in?"

Harry's posture went rigid then, and tears quickly stung Hermione's eyes. He turned slowly to her, managing to avoid her gaze, and slouched as if under some heavy load, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I…maybe I should…We'll get more sleep if we…go it alone, I think."

He raised his eyes only slightly and gazed at her from under wet lashes until her face, surrounded by orange firelight, began to crumble.

Acting on instinct he began to move quickly toward her, but then caught himself before he gathered her to him, looking for a moment as if he was unsure what to do with his arms.

"Hermione, I don't...Please don't cry..."

She breathed in deeply. "It's not for me, Harry…"

Harry blinked. "I know today's been hard...I just thought, if we... separated ourselves a bit, we could find some perspective..."

"I don't need perspective, I can see perfectly clear," said Hermione suddenly quite certain as she raised wet eyes to him. She breathed in again to calm herself. "I won't let you do this, Harry."

Harry backed away from her a few steps and hardened his expression, still avoiding her eyes. "I don't know what you mean. It's been a long day, Hermione. We both need to sleep."

Hermione grabbed his hand before he could get any further and pierced him with a gaze. "I won't let you do it, Harry. I won't let you go."

"Hermione..."

"No," she said calmly. "Come sit with me."

"I don't want to!"

"What?"

"Sit!… I want to be alone!" He said finally, frantically, and then mumbled out the rest quietly. "… I have to be alone."

Hermione shook her head. "No you don't."

"You don't understand…"

"I do," she said quietly. "More than you know. I know you, Harry."

Harry worked his jaw and then mumbled quietly. "You shouldn't."

Hermione peered at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Forget it," said Harry as he made to walk to his room again.

However, Hermione grabbed his hand again. "No, it's not nothing, Harry! What'd you mean 'I shouldn't'? Shouldn't what?"

And Harry whirled on her and lost it. "YOU SHOULDN'T KNOW ME! I should never have ALLOWED it! What will being close to me get you, Hermione? I mean be honest; what has it ever got anyone!? It gets you closer to losing your life prematurely, that's what! Every person I touch that BASTARD takes away! It's only a matter of time before it's Sirius, my dad, Ron or another Weasley and MY GOD did you SEE Molly today!? And Ron and Ginny and Fred and George…I did that Hermione…I..DID..THAT! I let them in! D'you think he would've picked the Weasley's as a target if he didn't know they're like family to me!? If he didn't know I love them!?" Harry's deep voice cracked with emotion and Hermione found that she almost couldn't take the suffering in it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she moved toward Harry to hold him, but he backed quickly from her.

First it had been that Harry felt unworthy of love, and now, when he finally had it, after she and Ron had spent years making him understand he was worthy of it, he felt the only way to keep those around him safe was to deny himself of it. The irony of it nauseated her.

"Harry," said Hermione franticly, "Please try to understand…"

"And you…gods Hermione…if anything happened to you, I couldn't…" Harry choked out. "I wouldn't want to live."

Those unclouded, crystal green eyes Hermione loved so deeply stared at her with such anguish. His longing gaze travelled over her form and just then, Harry looked to her like the thirstiest man in the desert, staring at an oasis on all sides surrounded by iron bars.

He took a moment to breathe deeply as he looked at her, and she immediately recognised the blank look that finally washed over his face. He was trying to resign himself.

That hideous voice in the back of his head, the one that must sound conspicuously like Vernon Dursley, shouting to him he should have known he was not worthy enough to keep anything good or lovely, so why long for it? She'd seen it crawl like a dark shadow over him before. It was as if he'd known all along that for him, nothing good could last.

By god but she would make it…

She grabbed him and pulled him to the couch with her, knowing full well he could easily escape from her grasp but would never hurt her to do so, and planted her hands on either side of his face forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"Harry, listen to me…"

He shook his head determinedly and made to stand but she moved quickly to straddle his legs so that he was pinned there.

"No, you listen!" she said grabbing his face again. "You don't get all of the say in this, you hear me? The Weasley's, Sirius, your dad and I, we love you because we want to, not because you've somehow tricked us or lured us in! I love you because I choose to, plain and simple, and nothing you do, no amount of pushing them or me away will change that…"

Harry fiercely grabbed her arms. "I won't let him hurt you.".

"And I won't let you isolate yourself!" said Hermione, equally as fierce. "And if you think Ron or the Weasley's will either, you're bloody wonkers."

She sat silently for a moment, waiting for his protest. When it didn't come, she continued.

"It won't matter how far you back from us. He already knows you love us. He'll know why you've suddenly chosen to go it alone, and it won't make a bloody bit of difference in the end. And Harry, you've got to know Bill didn't give his life just for you. He died trying to protect his father and anyone else Voldemort might attack. We're all targets in one way or the other; all of us. Everyone. You're not the sole deciding factor."

Harry sighed deeply, breath whooshing out from his lungs as if he were exhaling out some poison. He felt in his heart she was right, but fear still lurked in the corners of his mind. Bill Weasley was not the first of Voldemort's victims, and he certainly was not to be the last. How could he live with himself knowing some were to be targeted simply because of their connection to him? Moreover, what was Voldemort's reasoning behind whom he chose? Harry knew he hated him and loved to cause him pain, but wouldn't drawing all of his enemies out for his final war be a better use of the dark lord's time? Wasn't that his ultimate goal? Why all of the playing round the issue first? Harry had never taken Voldemort to be a patient wizard no matter how much he might love torturing the boy-who-lived. It simply didn't add up.

Hermione stared at Harry until she could take his silence no longer. "Harry what are you thinking? Please tell me…"

Harry snapped back to the present and realised Hermione still had a hold of his face and was peering anxiously at him. And despite all the dark thoughts running rampantly round in his head, they dissolved away to be reformed later when his gaze met hers.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for scaring you or…or hurting you. I don't want to push you or the Weasley's away, it's just sometimes...I'm not sure what to do." Hermione winced. She so often wished he didn't have to take the burden of everyone else's safety upon his shoulders. It was enough what he already had to deal with. She let her gaze sweep back over the familiar face she loved more than any other in the world. His desperate expression frightened her.

"Sometimes I actually lie awake nights thinking on how to keep all of you safe," Harry continued, now with an ironic twist to his lips. "Only thing I ever come up with is to somehow go back seven years in time and keep myself from ever meeting any of you. I've wished so hard for a time turner that could go back that far. Sometimes, you know…I dream on it. Finding a way to travel back and right everything."

Hermione cried out and pulled Harry to her, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent with something akin to desperation. As if he might somehow, someway find a way to go back and do just that. And Harry finally slumped free of the false hard wall he had built round him and crushed her to him, his face buried in her thick hair, tears wetting the long curls. Gods but without Hermione where would he be?

"I don't ever want that to happen Harry…NEVER. I love you so much. Please don't ever wish it again. Please don't. Merlin I'd be so empty… Please don't ever say that again."

Neither said anything more until hours later, they made their ways to Harry's room and crawled under the thick golden quilts on his bed, curling up tightly together until they felt secure enough to let their eyes drop closed on the horrific day.

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

Sunday morning came round unbidden and unwanted. Harry knew moments upon waking up with Hermione snuggled close to his chest, he was still to serve detention in Snape's classroom with Malfoy and Nott. And what with all of the drama he'd endured with them yesterday, and the even worse drama that had followed, it depressed him to think he had to face another day of it.

Thinking to himself that the quicker he got to it the sooner he could escape, Harry finally untangled himself from Hermione's long smooth limbs and eased out of bed, snugly tucking the golden quilt back around her.

Upon reaching their small common room he found to his surprise, a large breakfast still steaming warm waiting on the coffee table. Eggs, sausage, bacon, toast and jam and a full carafe of pumpkin juice, freshly squeezed as it still had pulp floating on top. He smiled to himself. News tended to travel fast round Hogwarts halls, and he was sure Professor Dumbledore had alerted a certain adoring house elf of Harry's punishment. He grabbed some of it up and stuffed it in his mouth, feeling slightly better, if only for the moment, about the morning. Thank God for Dobby.

However, despite his full stomach, the long trek to the Potion's classroom was even more unpleasant than it had been morning before, what with fresh thoughts of Mrs. Weasleys agonised face and the rest of the Weasleys, minus Bill, looming sad and ghostly pale in his mind. He also couldn't stop himself from frantically trying somehow to figure who would be the next victim to warn them. There was no way of knowing, and yet he felt if he could just concentrate hard enough, he might somehow be able to think as strategically and twisted as Voldemort did. Beyond all of that he still had his talk with Dumbledore to not look forward to. Harry thought to himself he might not be able to stomach the Professor gazing at him with his wise, kindly eyes, telling him he was somehow not to worry or to blame himself, and to leave everything up to the Order. As if Voldemort was to be left up to them in the end. Dumbledore knew Trelawny's old prophecy even better than Harry did…

As he pushed open the large oak door, Harry was surprised to find only Malfoy and Nott staring malevolently at one another at the front of the classroom, surrounded by the usual potions paraphernalia. Malfoy turned to look at him, and Harry was surprised to see a tiny bit less of the usual hatred for him in his eyes.

"Potter."

A very small, minute, almost microscopic bit less.

Draco turned immediately to the cauldron on the table before him and began adding dry and liquid ingredients to the already bubbling mixture. Harry approached them, noting immediately how Nott still had the slightly bewildered look of someone who couldn't quite remember something they weren't sure had been important anyway. Harry glanced again at Malfoy, who this day had been sure to wear a long sleeved shirt under his black Hogwarts robes. Harry wasn't quite sure why he had decided to keep Malfoy's dark mark a secret, except for the fact that for some odd reason, he truly believed the Slytherin had been forced to receive it.

"Where's Snape?" asked Harry.

"Left suddenly," said Nott in a most unfriendly voice. "Dunno why… Something about dead Muggles needing to order something."

Harry stared at him. "What? What the ruddy hell does that mean?"

"Glove up and shut it, Scarhead," said Malfoy irritated as he stirred the clear, foul-smelling mixture clockwise. "It's obvious he only caught bits of the conversation. That freak werewolf old friend of your father's came in ten minutes ago and whispered to him for a few minutes. They bolted off, after."

"Professor Lupin?" said Harry quickly. What had his father wanted with Snape?

"You know any other mutated freaks round here?" asked Malfoy.

"I can think of a few," said Harry, eyeing him viciously.

Malfoy sent him a hateful glare but chose to ignore the comment. "We've switched jobs. Nott's got the pickling; you'll be the jar filler."

Harry had too much on his mind to argue they had picked jobs without him, and pulled on a pair of heavy plastic gloves, absently beginning to fill jars and send them Nott's way. After, Nott plucked various slimy things from their old jars and plopped them unceremoniously into the new, grumbling and complaining under his breath the entire time.

Around noon, and still under little to no supervision save a teacher popping their head in every now and then, Nott announced rather forcefully he was taking a rest. Neither Harry nor Malfoy seemed to think this a bad idea and all three put down what they were doing to retreat as far away from one another as possible to different parts of the classroom.

With his feet propped up in front of him, Harry slouched down in a desk. After a few minutes he noticed Malfoy taking surreptitious glances his way, with a look on his face that said he was obviously fighting with something in his mind.

One side evidently won, and Nott's suspicious gaze followed Malfoy as he finally sauntered over.

Harry had been chewing absently on his knuckles as random thoughts ran unsorted and unorganised through his mind, but he couldn't keep from dropping his hand and raising one eyebrow at Malfoy as he approached.

Draco sneered at him. "Don't piss yourself Potter, I'm not coming for an autograph. I just want information."

Harry gazed impassively at him. "About?"

Malfoy thinned his lips and tightened his fingers into knuckles, once again looking as if he were waging an inward battle. "About… About Re… Ginny. I want to know what happened yesterday…with her family."

Harry blanched and shifted in his seat. Yesterday was the last thing he wanted to discuss; and Malfoy was certainly one of the last people he wanted to discuss it with.

"She and Ron'll be back soon. You can ask her yourself."

Draco glared at him. "Ginny and I aren't exactly on speaking terms for the moment Scarhead, in case it slipped your attention."

"Can't imagine why," Harry shot back.

Malfoy snarled at him. "Just tell me what happened damn it. Is she alright?"

"Not really, no." said Harry. "Her father and brothers were attacked."

Malfoy glared at him. "I've heard that part Potter…"

"Bill Weasley's dead."

Malfoy froze and stared at Harry for a few moments, studying the hardened, almost dead look on the other's face. He turned his back to him and ground his fists into the desk in front of him. Ginny...

"SHIT."

"Yeah." Harry stared expressionless at him for a few moments before he spoke again. "Three guesses who headed the whole thing."

Malfoy rounded angrily on him, and Harry noted his face was even paler than usual.

"I don't need you to remind me about Lucius, Potter," he growled furiously. "I've had a token of his shitsorry affections burned into my damn arm, if you'll recall." He glanced Nott's way and when he saw the other wasn't paying attention for the moment, rubbed gently at his bicep and mumbled to himself. "All last night bloody thing burned like hell."

Harry stiffened and sat up straight letting his feet slam to the floor. "What!?"

"Yeah, well it does that from time to time," sneered Malfoy scathingly.

Harry scowled at him. "If he's calling his Death Eaters together it means he's planning something else!"

"You think?" Malfoy replied with a harsh look. "Trouble is no one but the Death Eaters know where he'll strike next. There's nothing you or Dumbledore's pathetic secret Order can do until it's done, is there?"

The expression on Harry's face as he eyed Draco froze in shock. He slowly stood and took a careful step forward. What he'd just said… He didn't know what he was going to do but he knew however the ferret had found out… something had to be done…

"Where'd you hear about a 'secret Order'…" said Harry in a dangerously calm voice.

Malfoy smirked at him and lowered his voice as well. "Please, Potter. Whatever they call themselves… The moment five or six of them burst in on you and yours frolicking round with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries two years ago, Voldemort had them figured. He knew Dumbledore would try building a resistance against him."

Harry's expression hardened. "I suppose Daddy filled you in on all this, then…"

"Lucius did yes," said Malfoy without blinking.

"And where do you get they call themselves an 'Order'," said Harry, determined to give away nothing.

"Dead Muggles needing to 'order' something," said Malfoy flippantly, referring to the snatch of conversation he and Nott had overheard earlier. "The conversation according to Nott. Along with what I already know, it doesn't take a science wizard to figure it out."

"So you eavesdropped," said Harry with a subtle raise of one eyebrow.

Malfoy reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of what appeared to be flesh coloured string. "These helped a bit."

Harry snatched the stuff from his hand and looked it over. "What the bloody… Where in the hell did you get these!?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; Diagon Alley, Scarhead or haven't you heard?" said Malfoy snatching the string back from Harry and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Extendable Ears. Quite a clever invention for a couple of dirt poor mongs… Probably wouldn't have sold to me directly; our history and all. But they'll sell to another Slytherin if the price is right, won't they? It wasn't hard."

"But when did you…"

"Shopping for school supplies late August for Salazar's sake," said Malfoy disparagingly. "Your little triad of do-gooders aren't the only ones round here interested in the goings on."

Harry stared at him for a moment, a look of complete dislike on his face before he finally spoke. "Well?"

Malfoy stared indifferently at him. "Well what…"

"What did they say, dickhead!?"

"Pots and kettles Potter," glared Malfoy with hatred in his voice. "Even if I gave a damn whether you knew or not and I don't, it wouldn't matter. All I heard was some crap about dead Muggles and the Order."

Harry growled in frustration and brushed past Malfoy to head back toward the mess of jars, potions and slimy specimens, shortly trailed by Nott and then Malfoy, who was smirking to himself. Although he was equally as angry at the lack of information, a frustrated Potter still never ceased to lift his spirits.

The entire afternoon passed by Harry completely Snape free. As he glanced up at the magically boiling cauldron clock above his head and watched it belch up a bubble from its inside reading four o'clock, he thought to himself that under any other circumstances he would be rejoicing in the fact he hadn't yet had to face the Professor. However this day, every time the classroom door cracked open a bit he would lift his head hopefully, only to be disappointed by Professor Sprout or some other teacher checking in on them. The snatch of conversation Malfoy had heard between his father and Snape had been eating away at his mind, and he was desperate to find out what exactly had happened to keep Snape away all afternoon.

The door to the classroom finally banged open right as five o'clock bubbled out from the cauldron clock and popped with a wet squelching sound. Snape walked in, looking weary, but by no accounts any less irritated or condescending.

He waltzed over to the three and glanced over their progress with disdain. "I see you've managed to get them all, though I suppose I shouldn't have expected the job to look any less sloppy or carelessly done." He turned his small dark eyes on Malfoy and Nott. "You two may leave. Potter, you're to head to the Headmaster's office straight away. He'd like a word with you."

Harry knew Snape had stressed the last part in an attempt to make him think he was in trouble with Dumbledore, but he wasn't fooled. He knew it had something to do with the snatch of conversation Malfoy and Nott had overheard, and without a word to Snape, he rushed out of the classroom.

Malfoy, thinking to himself he would like a bit of information as well, shot him an unreadable look as he ran past.

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

Immediately after Harry disappeared at a full run round the corner, Nott wasted no time engaging Malfoy in an almost chest to chest staring contest.

"Decided to make friends with Potter as well?" said Theodore in a disgusted voice. "Oh dear… Daddy'll be so disappointed."

"Though he is good for the occasional bit of information I never have and never will be friends with Potter, dipshit." Malfoy regarded him with a haughty sneer. "And as for what Lucius thinks, I really don't give a damn."

"Right," said Nott brusquely, stepping back from him a bit. "After school you know what he expects of you. Your new 'fraternisations' as of late, are really making it seem as if you're thinking on betraying him and Voldemort; and believe me, I'm not the only Slytherin who's noticed it…You piss daddy off any more and come graduation you won't have a home or an inheritance."

Or a life… thought Malfoy darkly. Despite himself, he was grateful Potter had obliviated Nott's memory of the 'dark mark' incident. It would have given the little arse-wipe more to use against him.

"Because I'm feeling generous today," said Malfoy angrily. "I'll let you in on a little something I don't think you've understood before I decide on again beating the shit out of you. What I do or don't do, is none of your ruddy-arse concern, so from now on, you can stay the hell out of it."

"WRONG," spat Nott flatly. "What you do is most of Slytherin's concern, Draco. You're Lucius Malfoy's SON in case you've not noticed. For years most, if not the whole of our house has looked up to you. You've been THE example of what Slytherin is. We've waited to see what you would become after Hogwarts; how high you would rise in Voldemort's ranks. We've known because of your father you were on the strongest path, and most of our fathers are directly in line under yours for Voldemort's power. In fact, Lucius Malfoy is the very one Voldemort listens to the most, the only one Voldemort has allowed to recruit others for him. If Lucius' own son would betray him, if he's seen as so weak that he loses respect from his own son, how d'you think Voldemort will see our fathers, or their successors?! After that, d'you think he'd trust Lucius or anyone linked to him? D'you think he'd trust their sons and daughters? And I won't let you influence my friends or any of the others away from our chance at real power!

See Draco… it DOES concern me what you do; it concerns ALL of our house loyal to the dark lord. It could effect how the rest of us, and our entire house are seen, and I won't let you ruin us."

Sodding Salazar… Draco had always prided himself on knowing everything going on round him, but this revelation had come as a complete shock. So the Slytherin were watching him? Up until this point, had he been making Voldemort proud? The thought nauseated him. He had no dillusions of grandeur like Potter and his bootlicking entourage; to be good, honest and always forthright or any of that other shit. However, to think all this time he had been looked upon as the prototype of a future head Death Eater, gods… He'd always known what Lucius had in store for him, he'd just never known how much it might affect those around him.

Nott had an almost mad gleam in his eye, and to a less ballsy wizard it would have been unnerving. But Malfoy continued to stare blandly at him.

"You are a barking little gimp, aren't you?"

"As they say Malfoy, one shitty apple ruins the whole otherwise impeccable barrel," Nott unaffected, continued in a low voice. "I'd rather see that one exposed for what it is and chucked out. What happens to you after is your problem."

And with that, despite the new revelation Nott had given him, Malfoy had finally had enough.

"Shining example or not, I've had enough of you shoving your fat arse in my business," he snarled furiously, moving to grab a fistful of Nott's shirt and bring him close to his face. "But if you want to dick around, fine. I've got time enough to again beat the hell out of you."

Nott narrowed his eyes, but said nothing in reply. Although during their last match he had landed a few well placed blows himself, he knew he had taken the brunt of the beating. Malfoy was a bit more toned from Quidditch than he, Theodore, was.

Draco shoved Nott back from him, ready if need be to begin and finish another fight, but Theodore backed away a bit as if beginning to head back toward the Slytherin part of the castle.

"You just watch your step," he pointed menacingly as he made to turn on his heel and stride away. "I'll be watching you. And Merlin knows you stray out of line, my father will hear about it straight away; and then guess who'll be next to know?"

Nott left the question hanging as he left knowing there was no need to answer. However, as far as Malfoy was concerned, his threats were ignored.

If he stepped out from line Lucius would not need to rely on Nott's father for information, would he? Draco grimaced as he rubbed his still smarting left bicep… The moment he stepped out from the protective confines of Hogwarts grounds, Voldemort would attend to him personally.

With that morbid thought playing havoc with his mind, Draco decided to himself he needed a stroll in fresh air to clear his mind and turned to stride as stoically as possible the opposite way down the hall.

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

Completely out of breath, Harry skidded to a halt in front of the ugly gargoyles guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and barked the password. The thought that something else may have happened to others he loved made his blood pump even faster in his veins, and as if he were in a state of blind panic, he tore up the revolving staircase taking two steps at a time.

As he had expected he found the Headmaster sitting behind his desk in deep thought, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, and worry lines creasing his face, belying his usual calm exterior. As Harry approached he glanced up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

"Harry, sit...please."

Harry kept his eyes glued to Dumbledore and threw himself into a chair. "Professor, what's happened?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips and dropped his fingers from underneath his chin to clasp them familiarly before him on the desk. When he spoke his voice was serious and even. "Unfortunately Harry, one of the things we've feared most."

Harry stared at him. "We? Who d'you mean, we?"

"Your father, Sirius and I," said Dumbledore, sighing. "We've felt for some time Voldemort might choose to target those who've had close association with you. Though his first attacks were on Arthur, Charlie and Bill Weasley, it could have been seen as mere coincidence that you're involved with their family. However, with this new round, we've become more certain than ever that Tom is not choosing his targets randomly. I fear there is method to his madness."

Harry pounded a fist angrily into the desk before him. "DAMN IT! Who is it? What's he done…"

"Early this morning Sirius flooed me an urgent note on an item he'd just seen over the Muggle news. Privet Drive in Little Whinging was attacked," said Dumbledore, with a regretful look on his face that said he wished he could deliver the news in an easier way. Harry started in surprise. "Your old house at number four, along with another house further down was destroyed. Vernon Dursley was killed."

Harry stood up suddenly, almost knocking the chair beneath him to the floor. "No! It can't… that doesn't make any sense! You've always said that house is safe what with my mother's sacrifice being such a strong ward and Aunt Petunia sharing the same blood… You said the magic protecting me was ancient and almost unbreakable!"

Dumbledore's head nodded down as if from under too much weight. "You are right, Harry. And as long as you were there, the wards and protections that followed you made the residence safe. However, the moment you leave it… Harry every September when you've come back to school, the protection has left with you. Do you remember six years ago how Professor Quirrel, possessed by Voldemort, was not able to touch you? The sacrifice Lily made placed that magical bond over you, not the house. Although the bond your Aunt Petunia shares with you makes the magic that much stronger when you're there, you, not the house itself, are what has made the residence safe. I can only imagine Voldemort had specific reason for waiting to attack the Dursleys now."

For a moment Harry, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, could only sit and stare. Uncle Vernon, dead… He wasn't sure how to feel. He had very few relatives left in the world, and he felt even after all the Dursleys had put him through over the years he should feel, if not sadness, at least some type of remorse. However, all he felt was a glaring emptiness. When he'd gathered himself enough to clear his mind, he asked the next obvious question.

"Aunt Petunia and Dudley... are they..."

"Alive," said Dumbledore quickly, "though quite shaken and a bit banged up for it. Your Aunt was with your cousin in his room this morning it seems, something to do with a nightmare he'd had from what I've understood. There was a loud explosion on the first floor. Apparently your uncle made your aunt and cousin stay put and went downstairs to fight off the intruders." Dumbledore shook his grizzled white head and sighed sadly.

"Though he did manage to get one of them, even with a shotgun a Muggle is no match for three Death Eaters …"

Harry was cognisant enough to wonder quickly how Dumbledore knew about Muggle firearms before his thoughts took him back to more pressing matters.

"And how did Aunt Petunia and Dudley escape?"

"Petunia heard what had happened and somehow found the presence of mind to take Dudley and escape out of his window. They fled to one of the neighbours houses."

Harry dropped his hands from his face and sat upright. "From Dudley's window!? On the second floor? How did they manage?"

"They jumped Harry," said Dumbledore with a bit of respect in his voice. "Your Aunt Petunia suffered from a few sprains…unfortunately Dudley broke one of his ankles and wrists. Had quite a bit more bulk for the fall, I imagine. Only moments later members of the Order showed on the scene, but they were too late for your Uncle." Dumbledore gazed sadly at the younger man sitting before him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry merely thinned his lips and nodded. He hated himself for the little emotion he was feeling over his uncle's death. Though the man had shown almost no kindness to him in the whole sixteen years he'd been living with him, he was human, and family. The thought that he felt almost nothing but regret that Voldemort had struck again made Harry's insides squirm with guilt.

"So… Aunt Petunia and Dudley… Where've they been taken?"

"Well, first let me say their injuries have been healed. Madame Pomfrey flooed straight away to their new temporary place of residence to take care of it, though you can be sure she did endure quite a bit of protest over the use of magic." And here, despite the situation, Harry noticed Dumbledore almost couldn't hide the twinkle that suddenly lit his eyes.

"You must understand Harry, we couldn't very well leave them without protection in the Muggle world. Of course, to stay at Hogwarts was never a possibility, and there are too many untrustworthy wizards and witches at the ministry to let them in on, so the Endangered Muggle Relocation Program is out of the question. We had to put them somewhere they would be protected; somewhere completely hidden from sight… Your godfather has generously offered to share his estate with them."

Harry sat bolt-upright in shock. "Grimmauld Place!? You've sent Aunt Petunia and Dudley to Grimmauld Place!?"

He clawed a hand through his hair. Despite himself, an image of Aunt Petunia having a simultaneous coronary/stroke over the bachelor-like, wizarding state of the house, and Dudley hiding behind her, as pale and shaking with fright as her and again pressing a hand over his arse, played through his mind. For a moment, Harry felt as if some sort of sick, inappropriate laughter might suddenly come bursting out. Eloquent words left him as he stared open-mouthed at the Headmaster.

"Holy shit."

Dumbledore favoured him with a wan smile and sighed. "Though I do wish I had no more bad news for you Harry, unfortunately there is still the matter of the other destroyed house further down from number four. It was Arabella Figg's residence, I am deeply saddened to say. She was killed as well."

Harry's gaze snapped up to Dumbledore's once more. Gods, Mrs. Figg… Merlin, she'd done nothing but live quietly by herself; a lonely old woman with too many cats for company. Nevertheless, for probably as many years as he had lived at number four she had been keeping watch over him and reporting his welfare to Dumbledore. Voldemort must have somehow found out about her... No. Not somehow. The dementors two years ago... directly following their attack could they have seen Mrs. Figg running toward him? Upon retrospect, it was almost certain they were working for Voldemort, then and now. It was probably also how Voldemort knew to find the Dursleys...

Harry found he had very little to say he wanted Dumbledore to hear. Here again was another person who had lost her life simply because she knew him. And the real bitch of it all, was there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. Whatever sick headgame Voldemort was playing with him, he was giving him no out. If he was trying to draw Harry out, why the bloody hell wasn't he giving him somewhere to meet him and end everything? What other reason was there except simply to torture him? Perhaps for all of it, the torture aspect was strictly the only reason. If it were true, that would make Tom Riddle an even sicker bastard than previously thought.

"Though members of the Order have informed Muggle authorities of the reality of the situation, they've officially reported what happened at number four and ten as related gas main explosions to prevent panic," said Dumbledore. He studied Harry carefully for a few moments before he next spoke.

"Now, not only wizarding officials, but Muggle ones as well have been made known of Voldemort's renewed threat. We can only conclude he now wants his presence known throughout the entirety of England."

"England…" Harry had been bowed low in his chair with his face in his hands, but he now sat up and eyed Dumbledore.

"Purging just England of half bloods and Muggles won't satisfy that mental son of a bitch," he said bluntly. "He won't rest until he's done the world Professor, mark my words."

Dumbledore eyed him and nodded slowly before his clasped hands. "You are right, Harry. England and our part of Scotland is just the beginning for Tom. It is for this reason even now, several Aurors, Hit Wizards and members of Magical Law Enforcement not deceived by the Ministry's lack of belief in Voldemort's return, and loyal to our cause, are in extra training with the Order of the Phoenix. Some others are being sent to recruit as many creatures of our world we feel might be sympathetic to our cause."

"Recruit…" Harry's gaze flew back to Dumbledore once more. "Which creatures? Who?"

"Whomever in the end will stand with those on our side and fight. Centaurs, giants, goblins, even freed house elves… Voldemort is almost certainly recruiting his own army even as we speak," said Dumbledore wearily. "We've always believed the discord and division in our world would cause a rift that would one day culminate in war. That time is now fast approaching, it seems."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed with the overflow of information he was receiving, and impatient to share it with Hermione. "And the Aurors and Ministry Wizards… where are they being trained?"

"Inverness, Scotland at a secure location. They've been apparating weekly for extra training, if and when final war is made reality," said Dumbledore, leaning forward to clasp his long-fingered hands in front of him and once again peering seriously at Harry over his glasses. "Our situation is dire, indeed Harry. Between our factions, more than ever before the threat of war is most imminent. You've known for some time the final battle with Voldemort himself was to be in your hands. It is for this reason I ask you to begin training with James at the sword, and using your abilities with wandless magic, harder than ever you have before."

Harry stared at him for a moment and then spoke. "I've been in training with dad since the beginning of the year. Our last class of the day is with him. He and I spend an hour extra on the sword, and I do regularly use wandless magic."

Dumbledore nodded but fixed Harry with a grave look. "I am aware. James has kept me informed of your progress. He's stated many times you're a natural at the sword and that your wandless use of magic is improving. However, I want you to understand something, Harry. The real situation will be far removed from the quiet, twofold environment you share in James' classroom. You must be capable of concentration amidst a chaos of commotion and sound. You must be able to focus your magic; at times, even centralising on two tasks at once while confusion and disorder surge round you. When the final conflict takes place, I would be sorely remiss in allowing you to be ill prepared. I could never stand for it, especially for a member of…" Having said this, Dumbledore paused and for a moment seemed heavily burdened by something. When he next spoke, his voice was melancholy and more subdued than Harry had ever heard it.

"I could never forgive myself for it, Harry."

With the sudden unexpected show of emotion Dumbledore had just done, Harry felt for a moment oddly out of sorts. He scrutinised the Headmaster carefully for a moment, but when it became obvious he was going to get no explanation for it, Harry leaned uneasily back against his chair, keenly observing him.

"Alright Professor. It makes sense what you're saying, of course. I'll train harder and longer with my father."

Dumbledore nodded briefly, and for a moment, seemed to be examining Harry just as closely as Harry had done to him.

Believing their conversation was over, Harry stood as if to make his way out from the office until Dumbledore's kind, softly rasping voice called to him once more.

"Harry a moment more, please." He fixed him with a compassionate look, and upon seeing it, Harry immediately found he was sure he did not want to hear what else the Headmaster had to say.

"I understand you've heard this before and from my own mouth no less," began Dumbledore quietly, "but you mustn't blame yourself for all that has happened. Whether or not Voldemort has been choosing his victims based on their relationships with you, he, and only he is to be condemned. He chose you as his enemy, not the other way round. You've had no choice in any of this."

I've had choices... Every person I've let into my life I've chosen, thought Harry darkly, and the jury in his mind began screaming accusations at him once again.

As if Dumbledore could read his thoughts, he continued. "I wonder Harry, if you've ever heard the expression, 'no man is an island, but every one a piece of the continent.' It was written long ago by a quite insightful Muggle named John Donne. Not only does this statement make us realise we need others with us to travel life's journey, but also that what happens to one, happens to all."

Harry felt that to look into Dumbledore's face would reveal what he was thinking and feeling, so he continued to avoid the professor's eyes. That wise, penetrating gaze that seemed always able to search out his innermost workings, and that kind old face, the one that every time he saw it, seemed to be almost etched in understanding of him; these were things he couldn't bear to accept tonight. Bill Weasley, Uncle Dursley, Arabella Figg… three people, innocent, yet executed… and their only crimes had been knowing him.

If he had been looking though, Harry would have seen the Professors face lined with more than understanding. As he continued, he also peered at him with concern.

"You're father has spoken with me on this 'renewed covenant' you've recently made with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and on the strange occurrences following. I believe as they, your father, and you do that your meeting those two was by no means chance. I believe it was meant to be. Why Sibyl's prediction with you and Voldemort having to kill the other came first, before her most recent ones, we'll never know. However, it is certain she is correct in that you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley are somehow bound on more levels than simple friendship. Your entire careers at Hogwarts are living proof of it. Except for a few glaring instances, you three have always faced challenges together. As much as Ronald and Hermione need you to fight against the evil that is threatening our world, you need them. Don't turn your back on them, Harry. Don't try facing these challenges on your own. Don’t try fighting the pain on your own. As much as you fail to accept it, this war involves all of us. Whether or not Voldemort's victims have had some connection with you, the fact is certain, there would have been victims. If not Bill, Arabella and your Uncle Dursley, it would have inevitably been others. Know this, Harry. You are neither the cause, nor the blame. But where Voldemort is concerned, you will in the end be the deciding factor."

Dumbledore then looked gently and sincerely at him. "And if I were able, I would take your place."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and found himself staring into the Headmaster's eyes in slight confusion. Why would anyone wish his place on themselves? However, the answer he found staring back at him, more than the question left him confused and feeling slightly uneasy, as if something else were being hidden from him…

He stood quickly. "I need... I've got to go. I need to talk with… with someone."

Dumbledore nodded and watched him sadly as he left, letting the solid oak door concealing the revolving staircase click shut behind him.

"Go talk with her Harry," he whispered.

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

Draco pushed open the gigantic oak doors of Hogwarts and stalked out into a late January evening. He had had only a few minutes before the house elves automatically apparated away the remains of supper to bolt down a bit of it, and had taken a moment to survey the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall for the weather.

It was no surprise then, when he stepped out into a drizzling, depressing dark blue and black evening lit only by the moon, with a scattering of grey clouds just for adding a bit of drab colour.

He pulled his heavy wool cloak tighter about him and shoved his hands into his pockets to ward off the cold and icy drizzle. Without even having to think much, he knew where he was headed. Besides the large tree growing just outside the Quidditch pitch, to him there was no better area for thinking at night than by the lake. He began walking towards the area where the thickest brush and plants grew. In case someone else had decided on an evening walk as well, he would be well hidden sitting there, away from intruding eyes and mouths.

Gods... he had problems enough to work through and worry on without Nott poking his bastarding nose in. The letter from Lucius practically ordered him to begin using Ginny and any other means necessary in order to gain information on what Dumbledore's resistance was next planning. How he was supposed to just happen upon such information, being in the right place at the right time, was beyond him. He wondered just who it was at Hogwarts Voldemort already had working for him and gleaning information.

Malfoy had no desire to see Voldemort win the war, even if it meant Potter had to win to fix it. And it was just thoughts like these he knew Voldemort might catch him on if and when he decided at any given moment to focus his uncanny mind on him. He tried keeping his thoughts well hidden, but at times they would slip past when his defences were down. It would only take one lapsing moment while Voldemort was centred on him to doom him.

These thoughts hammered at his mind as he stepped round a large clump of bushes, and found himself coming to an abrupt halt, staring at the back of quite possibly the last person he needed to see at the moment. Right then, Malfoy came to think it was a distinct possibility he was cursed.

Ginny sat with her back toward Hogwarts and her knees drawn up toward her chest, watching the lake ripple thousands of multiplying rings with each tiny drop of rain. The moon shone as a huge lump of gold towards the back of the water, sending a great golden beam of light beginning large and ending small towards the shore. The end of it seemed to land on her head, making her damp red hair shine.

Damn.

She must have just got back from the hospital. As he wrestled with himself on what to do, indecision clenched at his stomach. He shouldn't get close to her again; it was exactly what his father and the dark bastard wanted, yet if he didn't, he was taking a dangerous risk. Nott's threat darkened his thoughts as well. Besides the glaring notion that he might very well not anymore have a home or inheritance to live on after school, these were the least of his worries. His life ending prematurely had decidedly landed the top of the list.

If he was stealthy enough, he might be able to back away before she saw or heard him. It was for the best.

He began moving backward slowly, his feet making no noise on the damp ground, until without turning or even indicating she'd heard him approach, Ginny's bitter voice shattered the quiet, sounding rather odd and echoless in the openness of the grounds.

"You're not leaving on my account… Don't think for one minute I care what you do."

Malfoy's heart gave an odd jump at her voice, and he gritted his teeth for it. Damn it to hell.

"How the bloody hell…"

"The lake, Draco. Acts as a sort of mirror at times; reflects things. Amazing, I know."

"I was just... I didn't know you were out here, Red."

"Obviously," she said blandly.

Malfoy thinned his lips in anger, but he would find later, it was more at himself than at her. "I hate to disappoint you, but I can walk anyplace I damn well please. Last I checked, this wasn't private property."

To his surprise, Ginny hardly reacted to his statement and turned her face to the side. "Seems the week is just full of surprises then. Last I checked, I was still a virgin."

Malfoy grimaced. He'd known the time for this conversation would be soon, but he felt now was definitely not the time.

"I'm sorry for that... really. Look, I'll just go and leave you to it, alright?"

However, as he moved to walk away, Ginny stood to her feet abruptly, turned, and glared at him. Her nose and eyes were reddened, and he could see wet trails running the length of her cheeks. Gods… he'd never known what to do with a crying female. Bloody hell.

"Running away are we?" said Ginny harshly, but the shakiness in her voice belied her in control exterior. "I've just got one question… What in the bloody hell possessed you?"

Draco found himself getting instantly defensive, just as he always did when confronted by someone. Old habits died hard. "What d'you…"

"I mean I might understand you wanting to brag to your entire house about shagging the poor, gullible Weasley witch had we actually done it..."

"I don't brag shit to any of my housemates Red," said Malfoy.

"Oh no!?" barked Ginny. "Then every one of them just simultaneously came up with the idea on their own, I suppose?"

Draco thinned his lips and shook his head. "That bastard Nott started spreading round our house you were easy."

"And you had nothing to do with it, I suppose…"

"Not with that no," said Malfoy, with his hands balled frustratedly in his pockets. "I told father I was just shagging you to throw him off our trail. I never expected him to brag it to anyone…"

"What was it then?" Ginny cut him off in a hard voice.

Draco blinked at her. "Wha... I don't know what you're... "

"Was ruining mine and my family's reputation not enough for you? Did you and your father have a nice sit together to plan his attack on my dad and brothers!?"

"What the hell're you..." began Draco, completely confounded. "I had nothing to do with that!"

"Oh right," cried Ginny, taking a step back from him. "You've always hated my family! What was it you've always called us? Blood traitors? An embarrassment to pureblood wizards? I'll bet you threw a right large celebration once you'd heard my brother was killed!"

"Your talking about Lucius Red," stated Draco in a hard tone. "Not me."

"I'm talking about ALL of the Malfoy's!" yelled Ginny, choking on her sobs and pointing an accusing finger at him. "It WAS your father who murdered Bill, they've found, did you know!? Charlie woke earlier this afternoon and told us everything. Very early in the morning he, father and Bill were headed some thirty yards behind our house to portkey to their guard positions. Your father and two of his son of a bitch underlings jumped them from behind!"

Draco sighed and shifted his feet. He wasn't sure what to do or how to react. It was obvious Ginny was hurting and simply taking it out on him and yet, he was completely unequipped to handle it.

"I'm sorry... but I had nothing to do with... "

"My mum found them in the field behind our house a couple of hours later when she headed out to do some gardening," spat Ginny hoarsely, "did you know!? My own mum found them!"

"Gods… I’m sorry Red. Really…"

Ginny made a snorting sound and began to walk round him to head back toward the castle. "Don't lie! You've always hated my family! I should've listened to Ron… He told me you were just using me… He told me not to fool myself into thinking you really cared for me…"

"I do, damn it!…"

Ginny whirled round to glare at him. "Sure… sure you do. Well save yourself some time and effort and don't bother! I don't need the Malfoy type of caring, do I!? I'd rather keep the rest of my family!"

Draco growled angrily in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you Red, I really am. But I had nothing to do with it for shitsake!"

However, Ginny only narrowed wet, swollen eyes at him and hissed quietly. "Just you stay away from me."

She turned on her heel to stride back up to the castle, but Draco grabbed her arm and spun her to him. She stared back at him with a startled look mixed with, to Malfoy's surprise, a bit of fear. He recoiled instantly and dropped her arm. She really must now equate him with his father. But no matter. If it kept her away from him, and accordingly, his instructions from his father, it did the job.

"I will," Draco seethed through his teeth in almost a whisper, though he felt as if he were dying inside. "But you remember something. It's my father, and his instructions from Voldemort that's done this, and it's not over. I would never hurt you or your family, whatever you may think of me… But Voldemort won't stop until everyone who stands against him is done in. He has loads of people on his side. Even now he has some spy in the castle working to get information on Dumbledore and Potter. He's a mental son of a bitch, Ginny. Don't at any time think you're safe. Don't ever stop looking over your shoulder, and don't think he's done with your family. As long as any of you breathe he won't be through, you hear me?… Anyone who isn't for him is against him, pureblood or not. And whether or not you believe it, by the end he'll want me dead as well."

Ginny stared up at him, watching conflicting emotions flit across his face just as steadily as they did over hers. She found herself unable to say anything else, so she simply nodded brusquely at him and turned to walk back to the castle, sensing his eyes on her the entire way.

Malfoy sighed as he watched her go, feeling as if he had been wrung dry, and left for dead. There was no one left, now. He truly was alone, but by now, he'd got used to it. He'd always been alone, really. But at least it had taught him to be resourceful. He had never had anyone else to help him through much of anything, and he had known all along his time with Ginny had been nothing more than a breath; a short sigh of reprieve. However, he hardened his jaw with an iron-like resolve as he began to walk round the lake. Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a survivor.

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

Harry swung Sir Cadogen's portrait open with only a wave of his hand, startling the knight so much he fell from his backwards perch on his horse to land to the ground with a loud clang.

As he entered, knowing for certain he would find Hermione on their common room couch incessantly cramming for N.E.W.T.s, he had his mouth already open to blurt out to her what Dumbledore had just divulged to him, but the sight before him made him shut it with a quick snap.

Hermione was there just as he had predicted, surrounded by parchments and opened books and quills with her knees drawn up to her chest, but Ron sat beside her, with Lavender Brown on his other side holding his hand. His whole form was slumped on the couch and bent with a type of heavy depression Harry had never seen on him, and his eyes and nose were still red and swollen from a recent bout of crying. Harry could see Hermione and Lavender had been crying with him.

Without looking up, Ron spoke quietly, sounding congested. " 'Lo mate."

Harry stood staring for a few seconds not sure what to do, until Hermione beckoned silently to him with her hand to come sit with them. He approached slowly and sat himself down carefully next to Hermione, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to peer at Ron.

"Ron… something else happen?" He asked dreading the answer.

"No… nothing like you think. Mum's just set the funeral date for Bill." Ron sighed and pulled himself up a bit straighter. "March first. He'll be buried in the field behind the Burrow where he was found. Mum says it's fitting…also said she wanted him near, you know… so she can visit him often."

"I'm sorry mate." Harry's throat began to ache. "Where's Ginny?"

"Wouldn't come here with me," said Ron. "I told her it would do her good to be with friends, but she said she'd rather be alone. Can't blame her, I suppose. She's always been that way."

Harry sighed. "Yeah she has… though I wish she wasn't."

Ron simply nodded and clawed a hand through his shorter red hair. "Charlie's awake, too."

Harry looked at him quickly. "That's good mate… has he said anything?"

Ron paused for a few moments, staring at his hands, which he began gripping and ungripping before Lavender grabbed one of them back from him again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"He's still a bit out of it," said Ron quietly, his voice suddenly turning bitterly cold. "But he did manage a few details… like who attacked them."

The change did not slip Harry's notice.

"I've had an idea…who did he name?"

"Lucius Malfoy," said Ron in a dangerously icy, numb voice. "Charlie's also said one of the others might've been Bellatrix Lestrange, he thinks. Said before she cursed him he yanked her mask and caught a bit of her face. Thought he recognised her from the photos in the Prophet."

Harry let his back slap against the couch and scowled through his teeth. "I don't doubt it."

Silence ruled for a while, and Hermione continued to glance from Ron, who was being consoled and whispered to by Lavender, to Harry, giving him worried glances and grabbing onto his hand. Harry understood what she was conveying to him. Ron looked almost murderous. He must feel now, some of the same emotions toward Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters that Harry himself had carried round in his heart toward Voldemort. He now knew how it felt to have a family member murdered. The change in Ron was evident, and Harry hoped the cold, dead feeling would stay surface enough not to drain down into his soul. He'd had enough experience with it himself, and it was a diseased, festering thing; almost impossible to cut away from oneself once it took root.

Harry decided then, that it was time he told Hermione and Ron of what Dumbledore had just revealed to him. Though he loathed throwing more anxiety into the mix, if he didn't tell them now, he was certain he would never. A constant wall seemed to continue building itself around his insides, brick after brick, layer upon layer. He could almost feel its effort to reach the top. Bill is dead… a cemented brick slapped onto another. Clink… Charlie and Mr. Weasley injured… Clink… Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Figg, dead… Clink… Murdered. All to get at me. Clink.

Harry forced the darkness away. Now was not the time. "I've got more bad news, I'm afraid."

Instinctively, Hermione scooted closer to him and grabbing at his arm in an effort to prepare herself. Lavender sat up suddenly, and Ron for his part, glanced at him with an almost anaesthetised look on his face, as if his head were trapped in a fog.

"Go on. It can't get much worse."

It can Ron. It will. "This morning, Sirius flooed Dumbledore. Last night Death Eaters attacked Little Whinging and my Uncle Vernon and Arabella Figg were attacked… they're dead."

Lavender gasped and bolted to her feet. "B..but they were Muggles, weren't they!?"

"Mrs. Figg was a squib, so she might as well have been," said Harry quietly. "They never had a chance."

"Oh my god," Lavender sat again and spoke breathlessly to Ron. "Ron I've… I've got to go. I've got to owl and see that my parents are all right and that they've heard… We live near Surrey… please understand… I'll be back soon."

Ron nodded and kissed her cheek. " 'Course. Go on."

Lavender stood and nodded to Harry and Hermione before sprinting toward the portrait door and throwing it open, letting it slam shut behind her.

Silence fell in the room so heavily, it seemed almost alive and breathing. That was until, Ron spoke quietly.

"I'll kill them, you know."

Both Harry and Hermione suddenly turned to look at him. It was the first time he'd finally looked both of them full in the face since Harry had entered the common room earlier, and the expression on his face was full of determined hatred.

"Ron…" began Hermione, her voice shaking a bit.

"Don't say it, 'Mione," said Ron with a deadly quiet, his body completely still. "I don't care what you think on this… you either, Harry. When time comes, when Voldemort finally sends for you mate, I'll be right there. I'm going to make sure they're both done in; the third bastard as well when I find him out. All of them, mark my words."

Harry knew it was useless to try talking to him on it. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he would say to him if he could. He wanted just as badly to kill Voldemort; for the deaths of his parents, for Hermione's kidnap and torture only last year, and for the ones he had killed and undoubtedly would kill in the near future.

He knew that kind of hatred, the kind that ran too deep… the kind that flooded wide and high, utterly filling. With practice you could keep it from completely drowning you, though Harry knew Ron had had little experience. Harry found he again didn't have the words to help Ron or anyone else. It was like a drained pitcher trying to fill another, almost empty other than a few drips.

"Ron… I know how you feel. I'm sorry. It's all I've got." Harry put his arm round Hermione, who grabbed Ron's hand, and his and held tight. "I know he's not done though, mate. There'll be others..."

"Soon, I know." Ron nodded almost blankly and settled back against the couch again. "It's clear, isn't it? He's baiting you until he's ready."

As soon as he had said it though, Ron knew how Harry must feel upon hearing his own worst thoughts spoken aloud, and he knew him enough to know what he must feel.

"But we don't blame you Harry," said Ron clearly, piercing him with a serious look. "You can't claim fault for that sick bastard."

Harry nodded in agreement but Hermione caught the faltering in his eyes and squeezed his hand. He turned to her and she leaned forward, placing her forehead on his.

"He's right," she whispered. "Listen to him."

At the absurdity of hearing Hermione entreat him to listen to Ron's opinion, which she normally held in a bit of low regard, Harry began to smile. His first smile of the day, and it suddenly occurred to him that those facial muscles had been sadly long, underused.

The insanity and utter derangement of it all played havoc with his emotions. He felt suddenly as if he would like nothing more than to scream aloud until his voice gave way, or punch something, to pound and pound it until it was left as nothing but a splintered pile of rubbish, to laugh hysterically until it ultimately ended in sobbing… to jump out from his skin and take someone else's.

However, if he had known what was to come in comparison, the complete underwhelming of what had already occurred would have shocked him into silence.

A tapping came to the window, and all three turned to see a large brown barn owl with a scroll tied to its leg banging its beak against the window, the cold drizzle on its feathers illuminated by the moon.

Harry's heart sank as if weighted. Owl post never came this late unless it was…

Hermione stood to approach the window, but Harry quickly grabbed her hand and pushed her back to the couch, shaking his head sternly at her and placing a hand quickly to her face.

"I'll go."

Pulling out his wand even though he rarely needed it somehow made him feel more armed, and Harry neared the window slowly, throwing it open quickly and stepping back with his wand arm outstretched. The sudden action startled the owl into flying backward from his perch for a moment, but he had been well trained. He returned instantly, and stuck his leg out.

Harry hesitated and then quickly untied the letter from her leg, watching her again as she flew off into the wet darkness of the sky.

He sat himself on the couch and Hermione and Ron surrounded him instantly as he charmed the letter to unroll.

The chosen first are not the last

Peaceful reprieve is now elapsed.

A short delaying of the hour

Then hard and swift a heavy power.

A mighty fist and sweep of hand

A cleansing reckoning at command

Grieve and bow with bent soul hollow

Tell me, who is next to follow?

Harry, Hermione and Ron sat slowly back against the couch together, one after the other, feeling, on anything still dependable in their lives, more shaken than ever before; because at any time, in any still, unassuming moment, it might be ripped away.

As for Harry, just as he felt himself closer, crawling back to the ones he loved, he encountered the accusing jury inside his mind; the one that screamed his blame, and the one that held him accountable for everything.

And part of it, he knew was true.

A/N: I know, I know. I'm extremely slow with the updates, and I'm truly sorry, everyone. But I'm happy with this chapter, and I hope you are too. I know a lot of you are unhappy with how long it takes me to update and I'm really really sorry! But I do it to make sure you get quality reading and a bit of mystery, and not just a boring, contrived story.

Chapter 31: A Funeral and an Army

The morning of Bill's funeral shone bright and clear, though the suns rays did little to warm the crisp chill to the air. Mr. Weasley and Charlie had been let out from the hospital a few days prior, and were standing to one side somewhat weakly with a distraught Molly. Fred and Angelina Johnson, stood to their right, along with George and Alicia Spinnet, Ginny, Ron and Lavender, and Percy, who had shown for the proceedings but had so far spoken very little. Members of the Order and close friends of the family stood toward the left.

Harry stood amongst them all holding tight to Hermione's hand as the priest conducting the proceedings in the field some ways behind the Burrow where Bill, Charlie, and Arthur had been found. The group surrounded a simple oak hewn casket in a tight circle.

The dark dress the crowd of wizards and witches wore as they listened to the priest give his eulogy proved sharp contrast to the snow lathering most of the ground. Patches of green peeked through the white, confirming spring had begun her thaw. Trees bowed and gleamed under melting blankets of frost and dripping curtains of icicles. Brilliant sunlight illuminated the ground making it sparkle as with a web of diamonds, but seemed to hold little shame over allowing its cheerful beams to spread inappropriately over the casket as well. It all seemed somehow unfit; as if even the weather should honour this day of mourning and come across properly black and dreary; perhaps with a drizzling freeze.

As Harry squinted his eyes at the gleaming casket and listened to the pastor sum up his speech, it occurred to him that it was possible for nature to be cruelly beautiful.

"…was a brave, responsible wizard, yet free in mind and soul. He was a member of an organisation whose sole purpose has been the defence of our world against all manner of evil, old and new. Before, having worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts bank in Egypt, he'd even devoted himself to sending his family a portion of his salary every month to help support them.

However, Bill's life cannot be summed by simple acknowledgements. Above all, he was the firstborn son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, the eldest sibling in a group of six brothers and one sister, and a beloved friend and colleague to many who stand here. In the end, Bill took upon himself a killing curse that in all likelihood may have been intended for his father, and selflessly gave his life for him. His sacrifice is as deeply etched into our hearts as it is now carved into his tombstone, and I believe this, above all, will tell the tale of Bill Weasley's life and character far longer than we who stand here today will ever live to speak of it."

The casket was lowered into the ground, and the tombstone set into place over the still open grave.

WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY

1972-1997

Beloved son, brother, and friend.

Killed in the line of duty defending his family.

He died as he lived: with honour.

Ginny held to Ron's arm, with Lavender holding the other. Fred and George stood near Charlie studying the ground with hands deep in their pockets, though Angelina and Alicia held to them for support. George draped an arm round Charlie's shoulder, and the others head drooped. He'd been closer to Bill than any of his brothers and sisters, since he had been closest in age.

Percy, managing to seem grieved and distant at the same time, stood to one side and slightly away from his family as if to reinforce his alienation from them. Arthur held Molly as she cried, but no one was fooled by his staunchness. Inside, he was dying as slow a death as she, and it would be a long time before he quit blaming himself for what he considered weakness in the face of danger.

Harry watched them all with an almost deadened expression. He had done his sorrow and almost memorised his self-blame so much so that now the odd feeling of it not being necessary anymore had grabbed hold of him, as if necessity ever brought grief on in the first place. It was as if the purpose of expressing it was to remind oneself of it, and he certainly had no need of that. His whole being was carved with it.

However, as Hermione wrapped her arms round his chest and glanced up at his stony face she knew better than to think Harry felt nothing. The truth was exactly opposite, in fact. Something else had begun to take hold in the couple of weeks before Bill's funeral… A something that had begun to make him rise mornings and take runs round the lake; to fight the sword with his father until his arms and legs felt like rubber and his shirt was soaked with sweat; to stay up until late hours of the night practising difficult pairspells with Hermione, and at least once a week, to stalk to the room of requirement where an assortment of weights and punching bags awaited his assault. That something was a boiling, rapidly compounding fury.

Voldemort's letters were being sent merely to taunt him, to keep him anxiously awaiting the next murder until he was utterly frantic and worn. After hours of lying awake at night cradling Hermione in his arms and pretending sleep, Harry had come to the conclusion Voldemort wanted him completely undone. So much the better for taking on one's enemy, to have him desperate; to have him broken before you.

Hermione wasn't sure when exactly he had come to his conclusions, but she was acutely aware of the change in him. He seemed almost dark with determination to be stronger, more powerful; to show Voldemort when time finally came that he had sorely underestimated him, and serious regret was at hand.

In a way it frightened her. For Harry to turn from being lost in sorrow, only to be lost in revenge was not her wish. However, she had always been aware the anger was there, just simmering below the surface. All she could do was be there to constantly remind him there was not just the fight, but what the fight was for, and to show him that living for the latter was endlessly better.

She gave him a quick squeeze and Harry's expression immediately softened. He wrapped his arms about her and planted a kiss on the top of her hair as the priest finished with tears in his eyes, but a warm smile on his face.

"Bill was a wizard full of life and laughter. He brought a joy to all those round him, and as he looks down on us today, I can only imagine he wants us thinking on him as having lived life happily and to the fullest, the way he ultimately did, and not filled with sadness."

The priest put one arm round Molly, and the other round Arthur. "He'll always be with you. He'll always be watching over you… know that."

Molly and Arthur nodded through their tears and thanked him.

After all was done the group moved back to the Burrow. Percy said a few sympathetic words to his family and briefly expressed his own grief before apparating back to the Ministry. Since becoming senior under-secretary to Minister Fudge, with Dolores Umbridge now taking the title of Deputy Prime Minister (much to the horror of many Ministry employees), it was as close and warm nowadays as he ever seemed to get. However, Charlie whispered to Fred and George that despite the fact Percy had not chosen to stay a bit after and visit, for their Mum and Dad's sakes he was at least glad he had shown for the funeral. It was more than they had expected.

Well-meaning friends and neighbours had given so much food that that afternoon, even the twins, Charlie, Ron and Harry couldn't make a sizeable dent in it, though they heartily tried. It was more for Molly's benefit than the fact they were hungry as keeping busy seemed to make her feel better, especially when she felt she was feeding the masses.

The day passed by with friends and close living relatives coming and going, and with an almost endless procession of post owls delivering cards and letters. By the time evening approached, Errol was so done in that he was seen lying on his side panting over his water dish while Ginny stroked his feathers.

Towards evening, when all visitors save Harry, Hermione, Angelina, Alicia, and Lavender had left, Fred and George gathered everyone round Arthur and Molly and were doing their best to lighten spirits by telling stories of life working Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It did Harry's heart good to see Arthur and Molly smile, and to hear the Burrow echo once again with a bit of laughter. Though when the twins began to get so excited they were hauling out trunks of new inventions much to Alicia and Angelina's exasperation, Molly quickly put a stop to it lest they let off some horrifying new firework or eat some sickness inducing candy.

However later, when Harry and Hermione finally made to leave by Portkey, Fred slipped Harry a handful of Snotflow Sours and whispered with a wink he had added enough dehydrated acridsap to turn any wizard's nose into a weeping faucet. For proof he pointed out Ron, who was currently shoving tissues up each nostril and shooting George murderous glances while Lavender soothed him and Ginny chuckled silently.

Hermione smiled at the twins antics, thinking to herself Fred and George were perhaps the best medicine for the Weasleys.

As for Harry, he had his first laugh of the day.

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

Lucius Malfoy, apparated into the dark heart of the forest of Kavan with a loud *crack*, and took a moment to allow his vision to adjust to his now darker surroundings.

Massive dead trees bent and twisted their ways claw-like towards the grey-clouded moonlit sky. Snow still covered the ground in patches, but in places where the new green growth of an approaching spring might have peeked through, there was none; only the decaying of long dead vegetation.

Lucius observed it detachedly. Voldemort's presence always did seem to stunt new growth or life...

Here and there the melancholy whistling of cold wind lifted dampened leaves into an eerie circling dance, and made long dead branches creak and groan above him. The area was only partly illuminated, but with such a dim glow that it almost felt as if the moon itself was dispirited by what it beheld.

For anyone else the darkness, peculiar sounds, and obvious lack of life might have lent the place a frightful, ghostly feel, but Lucius welcomed it with a smile. These things meant Voldemort was near, and where the dark lord was power followed, however dark.

He pulled his black hooded cloak tighter about his frame as his eyes swept round him. Behind him and some ways off in the distance, he finally spotted what he had been looking for in the dull square orange-yellow lights from Voldemort's cabin windows, and the brightly flickering fires of camp.

Knowing the fondness the two giants who stood guard had for killing first and asking questions later, he reached for his wand as he made his approach. He quickly realised upon reaching the cleared wide-open maw of camp, he had made the right decision.

Upon hearing the crunch of leaves under Lucius' boots, and in the dark catching sight of his shadow, one giant around twenty feet tall, dressed in a huge filthy brown tunic, with a huge bulbous nose and long dark dirty hair that covered most of his face, made a sudden loud roar and swiped a massive hand downward.

Wind whipped just past his body indicating to Lucius how close the great hand had come to hitting its mark. He quickly aimed his wand.

"Acrimordeo!"

The giant let out a ferocious howl as he grabbed his leg and began hopping up and down, the sound and earthquake-like vibrations of which suddenly woke the camp into a flurry of commotion. Men jumped up from their seats around fires and hundreds of tents and quickly constructed living quarters opened with their occupants stumbling forth, wands aimed outward. Centaurs with bows taut with drawn arrows, leapt from the surrounding foliage and galloped forward. Goblins jumped to their feet with various weapons in hand. Dementors glided forth from nowhere, rattling and sucking on the damp night air, their blackened faces searching for victims. (Lucius was eternally glad for the 'Reprimo Effectus' charm Voldemort had cast round the camp, otherwise the dementors presence would have turned the night cold, unlit and empty). Trolls, a bit shorter than giants, shook their massive heads dumbly and emerged from the trees like large green lumps with fists raised.

Lucius stormed into the middle of the camp and shoved one Death Eater out of his way, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud and pointed his wand at the others.

"Is this the way you serve our lord!? Leaving one giant to keep watch!? Allowing one armed man in the dead of night to sneak you up!?"

One Death Eater named Jugson made his way boldly forward amidst the crowd of sheepish looking humans, creatures and vacuous Dementors and bowed. "Forgive me Commander Malfoy, but no one save those loyal to Voldemort much dare to even enter Kavan. And there are two giants, one toward the front entrance and one for the back."

"Neither of which kept me from infiltrating the camp," snarled Malfoy, but he clipped his words short as he felt the tip of a wand press into the back of his neck.

"But one of which alerted us to the fact we had an intruder," sounded the sneering Bulgarian voice of none other than Igor Karkaroff. "One wizard against hundreds... you'd not have got much further."

Lucius turned round with an expression of steel and hooked a golden finger round Karkaroff's wand, yanking it down. He eyed the tall thin man and the white curled goatee covering his weak chin with something akin to disgust. "You are second in command to me, Karkaroff, but do not think for one moment I wouldn't kill you if given half a reason."

"My, we are uptight this evening," said Karkaroff in an unctuous tone as he smiled. "Perhaps a visit with our master will uplift your spirits. He should be joining us momentarily."

"Which is why I'm here, idiot," said Malfoy with a harsh sarcasm as he watched the other hundred or so followers of Voldemort gather near the door to his cabin. He turned once again to Karkaroff. "Make no mistake though, Igor. Our lord may have decided to put his trust in you once more, but I am not so inclined to forgive. Once a coward, always a coward."

Karkaroff narrowed his eyes hatefully. "I've never run from the dark lord's service."

"Of course not," sneered Malfoy. "I suppose the small delay you took three years ago in returning to duty for our lord was merely a vacation… Pity you 'forgot' to inform him you would not be returning straight away."

Karkaroff glared back at Malfoy. "I had no choice. Dumbledore watched me carefully while I was at Hogwarts, and an Auror caught me. I had to be extremely careful after, in case you forgot; to bide my time until I could return."

"Since it was you who sold some in the dark lord's service out to keep your own arse from Azkaban, they might be the ones unable to forget I think," said Malfoy glibly as he made to move, as second in command, to the head of the group. "And even after so many of our lord's followers were sent off, leaving him in dire need of those who were left, it still took you almost two years to return…"

Karkaroff opened and closed his mouth for a moment, unable to come up with a suitable excuse. The fact was, he had been afraid. The Potter boy had been illegally thrown into the Tri-Wizard competition back in his fourth year as Igor had been instructed, and thus portkeyed to Voldemort to be dealt with, but the boy had escaped before he could be killed. Igor had been afraid to return to his master after, afraid Voldemort's wrath would be taken out on him. Nevertheless, fact was he had returned, with a bit of help from one of Voldemort's faithful, and had sworn his undying allegiance from then on.

"Curious," said Malfoy with a subtle raise of one eyebrow. He then turned his back with distinct superiority and marched away toward the crowd.

Karkaroff was left to seethe over what Lucius had meant as he watched Voldemort's followers make a wide path for him to trek through toward the front. Sodding Salazar how he hated Lucius Malfoy... the bastarding prick.

A few moments later the door to the cabin opened and Voldemort, tall and much stronger it seemed, with his unmistakable ghostly pale skeletal face and glowing red eyes, stepped out to a long cheer from his army. He let it go on as was his due, and finally shushed the crowd of humans and creatures with a lordly sweep of his hand. He obviously had spent time amongst his troops, sizing them up and overseeing their progress in training and recruiting, as none of the humans or creatures seemed overly-awed by his presence, but merely grew quiet as he had ordered.

Voldemort first acknowledged his second in command with a nod of his head, and all eyes turned toward Malfoy. "Lucius…I gather the recruitment on your end has been successful?"

Lucius bowed deeply. "Yes my lord. I've managed to gather a few more Ministry officials to our cause. They should be getting their affairs in order and arriving within the next few days."

"Excellent," said Voldemort. "And your son... has he sent information regarding Potter?"

Lucius grimaced. "Only that the boy is quite... disheartened by the recent deaths my lord, nothing more. Draco's letters indicate his relationship with the Weasley witch is not going according to plan, despite all of his efforts. Thus, he says, information has been hard to obtain."

Voldemort studied Lucius for a moment, making the latter feel uneasy, until he spoke in a dangerously quiet undertone. "And do you believe him?"

Lucius tilted his chin and lowered his eyes for a moment. Truth was, he wasn't sure whether or not to believe his son. Draco's attitude as of late would certainly lead him to believe he was not choosing to follow the same path, and he was easily devious enough to lie about his leanings.

"I can't be certain my lord. It would seem with your distinguished powers that you, far more than I, are adept at judging the conscience."

The dark lord studied Lucius as if reading his soul for a moment more, and then favoured him with a cold sneer. "Then perhaps it is time for me to focus on the boy and determine his intent."

Lucius bowed. "Yes master."

Voldemort scrutinised him for a moment more. "Make no mistake Lucius. If I sense the boy has turned against us, as soon as opportunity arises he will be executed. Traitors merit no mercy."

"Yes my lord, of course," said Lucius without hesitation, still averting his eyes.

Satisfied for now (much to Malfoy's relief), the dark lord switched his glowing, unnerving gaze to a stubby old goblin with a large quantity of white hair growing from his ears standing near the front, and his interpreter, a Death Eater named Mulciber who was fluent in Gobbledegook.

"Ragnok, have you approached your colleagues…"

Mulciber related the question to the goblin, who began speaking in a high-pitched, gravely voice, leaving periodic pauses for the Death Eater to translate.

"I spoke again with the goblins who as yet have not chosen sides. Most were unwilling to leave Gringotts and wanted to stay neutral, but when I reminded them of the Tri-Wizard tournament and Ludo Bagman's betrayal and theft of their gold, I believe it reminded some of them the Ministry and those affiliated with it are not to be trusted. They've expressed to me their desire for promises of equal rights and riches should you take control. I informed them I had already discussed the matter with your lordship, and as such, I generously conceded."

"Good," said Voldemort with a casual smirk. With the mixed group (including Ragnok and his fellows, trolls, centaurs and giants) round him, he wouldn't openly express what he felt with Ragnok's words, though his thoughts remained the same. Promise them whatever you wish... in the end you will all join the rest of the inferior.

Voldemort again switched his focus.

"Bane… report."

The wild-looking centaur, with black hair and the black body of a horse pawed at the ground for a moment before he spoke in a barely restrained voice.

"As you are aware, we centaurs are loathe to join in any war, especially one involving a species who frequently value themselves as superior to all others… However, I have spoken to my brothers and consulted the stars. As per your assurance that the forest will be ours after to exclusively rule, I and some of my tribe have agreed for a time to join you. Our ancestors would be pleased at the return and open recognition of the land they once owned. Still, we want it expressly known we fight for land that is rightfully ours, and not to resolve any petty power dispute."

Voldemort angrily narrowed his eyes at Bane's impudence, but held himself in check. Centaurs were all alike, the foul half-breeds. They were only interested in themselves and what they considered theirs, and oblivious to the fact that whether or not they chose to recognise it, they were and would be ruled.

However he would, if only for a time, yield a bit of his supreme command if it meant deceiving more to join his side. The more forces he had to fight Dumbledore, Potter and those loyal to them, the better.

Voldemort nodded his head, but fixed Bane with an expression of stone. "I concede our battle is not your own, and my pledge to your kind stays founded. However in joining my forces, you will follow my command. An army is victorious only as its company observe rank and order."

Bane held his head proudly, but gave a slight nod.

"Excellent," replied the dark lord smoothly as he now loudly addressed the whole assembly. "The last tribe of remaining giants have travelled from England and Scotland to the mountainous south end of France, as Dolohov has informed me. Trolls sightings are rare as well, it seems. Because of this, these are of no importance to us. They will serve neither our army nor those opposed to us. Our forces, it seems, are established… That is all. Dismissed."

A rumbling of dialects and strange languages sounded throughout the crowd of humans and creatures as it dispersed, with most, as was natural for them, joining their own to one side of the camp. However, as usual, the closest to Voldemort, his Death Eaters, remained behind for another meeting… the real one.

Voldemort's mouth curved downward into a cold, disgusted sneer as he observed one fourth of his army move away. Filthy, bastarding mongrels… worse than mudbloods…even the common Muggle. Unfit to breathe the same air. The first thing after the war he would attend to would be their disposal. After would be the Muggles; country by country, continent by continent; as long as it took… recruiting and purging. Then finally one day, the world would be as it was meant to be… clean.

The dark lord's abrupt, irate change of mood did not come as a surprise to the group of about eighty wizards standing round him. Using the group of non-wizards for his own purposes and then eliminating them after made him feel neither guilty nor innocent. After all, they were non-entities as far as he was concerned…mudbloods and sub-wizards; of no consequence.

Each time Voldemort felt it necessary to check the progress of the non-human sect of his army, he came away feeling slightly dirty and in need of a good wash.

The Death Eaters were not immune to the effects themselves.

Voldemort growled at the group, stabbing them with a glare and made to move back inside his cabin.

"With me."

The large procession followed their master dutifully, knowing the true debriefing was indeed about to begin.

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

Harry held to Hermione's hand as they made their ways down the torchlit, shadowy halls of Hogwarts and back to their rooms. They had portkeyed to Dumbledore's office from the Burrow, and had spoken to the Headmaster only briefly before asking to be dismissed for the night. Ron and Ginny were to be back at school next day, and both found those two were the only ones at the moment they could bear seeing, so they hurried fast as they could past students and teachers, taking little time to stop and speak.

As they walked the corridors they passed more students heading outside for early evening Quidditch in the pre-spring night air, or moving in the direction of the library, or simply hanging about here and there, destinations unknown. Seamus and Dean who were playing Exploding Snap with several others tried to make them join saying bets were up to two galleons a winner, but all Harry and Hermione could manage was a brief smile and a few words before hurrying even faster down the hallways. Both had the same desperate feeling running almost frantically through their veins… escape. From all well-wishers, friends, teachers, studies, even the dank halls that surrounded them; all they wanted was to shut themselves away from everything, make it to their couch, lie down close together, and hold on hard.

Colin Creevey with his head hung downward as usual, skulked along towards Gryffindor tower from wherever he'd been. He stopped the two briefly to offer quiet condolences for Bill.

"Would've done for Ron and Ginny but I haven't seen them in a while…"

Harry nodded. "They've mostly been at St. Mungo's with their father and brother, but they're a bit better now. The funeral was today. They'll be back round tomorrow morning for school, I expect. You can pass it along to them then, I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

Colin bit at his lips, obviously torn about something, and then nodded and began to make his way back down the corridor.

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and told him she'd be back in a moment before jogging down the corridor to stop Colin.

"Colin, wait…"

She could see Colin's thin shoulders shrug stiffly up against his neck as he stopped and slowly turned round, and Hermione took his response as his tendency to desire, since his brother's disappearance, being left alone.

Hermione, panting slightly, reached out to touch his arm, but Colin recoiled a bit.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, drawing back. "Ron, Ginny Harry and I…we've been so caught up in Ron's brother's death among…other things… we've been a bit blind to everyone else. We haven't meant to be."

Colin averted his eyes and shrugged, his hands jammed into the pockets of his robes. "I..it's all right Hermione… I've rather..felt like being alone you know…"

"I know you have," said Hermione gently. "But it's not healthy Colin. Harry can certainly relate to you, he's lost quite a few people himself you know…he's often said he wanted to talk to you about it. And as I'm always reminding him, you've got friends here Colin; students and teachers who care about you. Don't push them away. You can't deal with all of this on your own. You need them."

Colin raised his eyes to Hermione's and nodded, swallowing. "Well... er.. thanks Hermione. I'll remember that. I've got to be getting on now…"

He turned to leave, but Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder once again. "Wait, please."

He stopped in his tracks before he turned once again, his eyes closing briefly with a bit of impatience. Why couldn't everyone just leave him be? Especially Hermione and Harry. He almost couldn't bear their compassion…

"I'm sorry, I'll let you alone. Just one thing more," said Hermione gently. Her eyes filled a bit with tears, and Colin quickly turned from her gaze to study the wall. "All this…hiding out and separating yourself from everyone; do you think your brother would want that for you? He'd want you to be happy; to go on living."

As if he'd been stung Colin, with a strangely pale expression, suddenly swung his gaze back to Hermione.

"I'm not hiding!"

Hermione blinked at him with a bit of confusion. "No…n.. of course not… I just meant… hiding yourself away from everyone. Keeping your feelings all trapped inside. It won't bring Dennis back, Colin."

Colin suddenly looked desperate and grabbed hard onto Hermione's shoulders, peering intently at her. Hermione tensed, her eyes widening a bit. From down the hallway, Harry had seen the motion. He frowned and began moving swiftly toward them.

"What if…what if something could, Hermione…"

Hermione pulled against his grasp for a moment, but he just gripped tighter. He wasn't really hurting her, but the odd emotions flitting across his face were a bit frightening.

"What'd you mean?"

Colin gazed hard at her. "What if you'd lost someone, someone close... if you found you might bring them back somehow, would you do it? Would you do anything for it?"

Hermione's mouth fell open as she gazed at him. She didn't think Colin had gone round the twist, but something in the stressed, almost maniacal way he was gripping her shoulders made her feel uneasy.

He shook her desperately. "Would you?"

"I... I don't... " began Hermione shakily.

"Hi Colin," said Harry's deeper voice from behind him. With his hands shoved casually in his pockets, he moved very near Colin's side and towered above him. A crackling of intense sapphire energy surrounded his body as he glanced at the grip Creevey had on Hermione, and with a violent flash of warning in his green eyes, he pierced him with a threatening glare.

"You can let go of her now."

Colin dropped his hands from Hermione's arms as if they'd just suddenly received a shock. "I'm…sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It was only a mistake, I'm sure." Harry said in a dangerously calm voice, glaring hard at him.

"Harry…" said Hermione quietly.

"Honestly, I didn't mean to hurt...," said Colin abashed, backing away a bit. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

Harry continued to watch him.

"Not at all. I'm fine," said Hermione sympathetically, eyeing him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," said Colin backing up to walk back down the corridor. The blue energy had winked out, but he eyed Harry nervously. "I'm fine. I’m sorry Harry, really I was just…would never... I didn't mean to… I've got to go. I'm sorry, really."

Harry placed his hands almost possessively on Hermione's shoulders as they watched Colin move hastily down the hall and disappear round a corner. As soon as he had gone from sight, Harry turned Hermione round to him and looked searchingly down into her face, stroking her upper arms with his thumbs.

"Did he hurt you?"

Hermione sighed. "No, of course not. He wouldn't Harry… But something is quite... strange with him."

"Something's been quite strange with him," said Harry without grudge. "But I suppose after what's happened to him and his family he's entitled to it. He's never before had anything quite like this to deal with."

Hermione sighed and peered back toward the corner Colin had disappeared round as if to glean information from it. "I dunno... it was something else, something he said."

Harry hesitated for a moment and then gave in to his worn impulses. He pulled her to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head before resting his forehead there.

"Can we forget about it for a while?" He sighed into her hair, and his words came out slightly muffled. "I just want to hold you for a bit."

Hermione smiled up at him, and then placed her head under his chin to bury her face in the top of his chest. "Me too... I need it."

Harry nodded against her hair and took her hand, leading her back down the corridor toward their rooms.

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

Voldemort allowed the Death Eaters to conjure chairs for themselves and be seated before he addressed them. The cabin was almost as empty and common as it had been last year. With the amount of servants the dark lord had now, the fact his temporary 'home' lacked the lordly qualities he could have demanded for himself was surprising, indeed. However, when one's mind is completely full of, and bent with nothing but revenge, little room is left for thoughts of imperialism. The Death Eaters provided him with food; a small thing other than unicorn blood, he had not needed when still devoid of his body, and provided him with whatever creature comforts his whim desired. But they were few. His appetites usually focussed on one thing only. To have his army more powerful than any one Dumbledore could conjure. Kingly amenities would come after.

Lucius bowed his head low. "We are ready my lord."

Voldemort nodded and turned to regard the magically enlarged room full of his old, and newly chosen Death Eaters. Some puffed up ridiculously with importance as his glowing eyes fell critically on them. He smiled shrewdly. From the crowd, he could even now easily pick out the ones he would allow to live after the war was won. For now, he would keep that bit of information to himself.

"Failed recruitment of more giants notwithstanding," said Voldemort by way of a beginning, "our army is established. Though it would have been helpful to have more of the stupid bastarding animals on our side as their tough hides make it impossible to take them down with one simple spell. Ah well, as with all who refuse me, they have met their fates."

Bellatrix Lestrange lifted her sneering hollowed pale face in surprise from the middle of the group and waited until Voldemort nodded to her before she spoke.

"Met their fates, my lord? Forgive your servant… my ears deceived me into thinking you told the creatures they had fled from here."

Voldemort regarded her as if she were a simpleton. "You were not deceived Bellatrix. Yet had I not falsified what really happened, our large army might have greatly diminished." He shifted his red gaze to another. "Dolohov, I will allow you to explain… Proceed."

To assure his lord would not think he was attempting to appear important, Dolohov kept his head bowed as he recited.

"With our master's instruction, I, along with ten others among us, found the remaining giant's encampment in the northern mountainous region surrounding the Forbidden Forest..."

"So close?" Spoke a newly recruited Death Eater.

The room became stock still, and Voldemort turned his burning gaze on the young man, surveying him silently for a moment.

"Godolphin... you are new?"

The young Death Eater nervously eyed the crowd round him, who did not return his gaze and kept their heads lowered. He began to stutter.

"Yes m..my lord. If I've spoken out of t..turn I apologi…"

" Never speak unless called upon…" he snarled. "Yet you are new, so I will spare your life."

The Death Eater shuddered out a sigh of relief. "Thank you for your mercy, master…"

"However," said Voldemort conversationally, tapping his wand on his chin. "As is normal for the flawed, lessons tend to be forgotten…mistakes repeated; and that would be unfortunate."

He paced for a moment, a small smile quirking his thin white lips as the young man began to sweat, his eyes passing from one fellow to the other, only to meet bowed heads and averted eyes.

"How to ensure this does not happen again… ah, I have it."

The dark lord whirled and aimed his wand. The Death Eater stiffened, wide-eyed.

"Crucio!"

With a high-pitched, wailing scream, the young man fell from his chair and began to thrash about; his limbs seizing and twitching. The others sitting round him winced.

Voldemort gave another careless wave of his wand, and suddenly all was quiet, although the young man continued in his torture, flailing about with mouth stretched wide; floorboards sounding as his heels cracked them, knees and elbows hammering the wood, silent screams continuing.

For a moment, the dark lord watched with mild curiosity as the young man continued in his agony. Such subtle differences in the way each victim reacts... quite interesting.

"Better. Now, he shall never worry on losing his life with the same mistake. I should think after, he will wish to thank me."

He lifted the spell with a flick of his bone-like wrist and the young man fell limp on the floor, panting. He paid him no further attention.

"Dolohov… continue," he ordered.

A sheen of sweat covering his face, Dolohov continued reciting as well, hoping fervently he himself could keep from doing anything this night to further provoke his master's ill-humour.

"We... found where the giants were camped... The rest must have either retreated or killed one another, more like; the great brutes don't get on in large numbers. I approached the Gurg and offered him gifts with the promise of more, along with the assurance should the victory fall to our side, they would be allowed the entire northern mountainous region to rule. He refused. We had ten Death Eaters to their number of fifteen, but being much quicker and stealthier, we eventually did them all in. The Gurg himself took on five killing spells before he fell."

Voldemort, now peering at the unearthly red fire blazing in his hearth, raised his hand and Dolohov immediately silenced.

"Enough... we have a visitor."

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

Like a comfortable, secure quilt, the darkness and silence of Harry's room provided for the two young people cuddled together on the bed, a sort of hideaway from the outside world.

Harry's heart was full to bursting. Hermione snuggled so tightly with him that every part of his body was comforted and yet restless with burning need. At the moment, it seemed, these were the only emotions he wanted to know. More often than not, he sought nowadays to feel almost nothing.

Hermione sighed into his mouth as he moved his lips over hers; her hands sliding down his back to come back up with the hem of his shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to let her drag it over his head and pluck the glasses from his face. He made to move back over her but she put her hands on his bare chest and held him there, her eyes roaming him languidly.

Harry rested his head on his elbow and gazed down at her.

"What're you thinking?"

"Just how much you sometimes still remind me of the little boy I met on the train seven years ago," she smiled. "Same lovely glass-green eyes, same messy hair..."

Harry poked her ribs until she began squirming and slapping at his chest. He laughed aloud.

"Same cheeky grin," she giggled, panting.

He grabbed her and rolled her beneath him until she was completely trapped, his smile fading to an intense gaze, and all teasing instantly fell away. The hard planes of his body pressed into hers, causing her own to shiver with a seductive downward-crawling heat. In her abdomen, small pinpricks of desire began to excite her breathing, and she was helpless to stop her mind from imagining how losing control with him would be... how his touch would burn, his hands explore, his movements unravel her...

His heated gaze was so passionate, his fingers searing trails down the soft curves and dips of her body. It felt so deliciously right, and not for the first time Hermione felt herself responding in ways she had never known she could before him… before this.

"I hope I've changed in all the ways that count," Harry whispered in a low voice, his lips distracting against the soft shell of her ear.

Hermione didn't answer straight away, she was too busy tangling slim fingers into his hair, fingernails running along his scalp the way she knew he liked.

"Oh, I think so."

Her hands roamed down the carved plains of his back, to sweep over his tight bum, ...Thank Merlin for Quidditch clenched brooms... back around a tapered waist to slide down the hard ridges of his abdomen and around slim hips... He trembled at her touch; hot breath against her neck, and she smiled at the hard bulge pressed against her inner thigh. At least she effected him just as strongly. Small, soft hands smoothed upward, over light olive skin, over well-muscled chest and arms, back over strong shoulders to the face now centimetres from hers... Absurdly long lashes over eyes greener than the sea, straight nose, full lips, wicked smile, sexier than hell messy black hair... Hermione had never before considered the term 'beautiful' befitting for a man, but to her Harry embodied it whole.

Harry had been studying her just as actively, letting his hands wander her body until every allowed area was well mapped and memorised. Although she was more than a head shorter than him, her limbs were long and lean, with lightly tanned, soft skin... the kind he swore gleamed like moonlight. Long corkscrew curls fell like waves about her face, a delicate oval one, with soft full lips, a slightly upturned feminine nose and large doe eyes framed with thick long fans of lashes... bloody perfect. He kissed each area as he examined it, making sure his lips and tongue mapped the skin just as thoroughly as his fingers had... branding it with his mouth, making her his own. Great Merlin but he wanted more...he wanted ALL of her...

Need took over, and control began to slip. She was panting beneath him, his mouth came down hungrily on hers and she grabbed him to her, fitting her body so tightly with his that bolts of desire zinged straight down his own. They rolled, Harry's hands travelling under her nightshirt to caress the smooth skin on her back, his fingers moving to brush the soft side-swells of her breasts as they pressed against him. She moaned and pressed against him even harder, the sensation causing a jerk of his hips he hadn't expected. Sweet Merlin...

He groaned into her mouth and rolled her hard beneath him, his hips now grinding intimately against hers, his hands and mouth touching and sweeping and rubbing and teasing and moving and feeling... just feeling...

"Oh god, Harry..."

Her voice was higher-pitched than usual, pleasure tightening her throat, tightening her abdomen, tightening everything...

"We have to st...OH M..Merlin..." she gasped, her body arching beneath him. "Have to stop..."

"I know..." he rasped in a deep voice. "I know."

Ignoring the uncomfortable throbbing of his body he settled himself a few inches away from her on the bed, panting as much as she was, and just as wholly frustrated. Bloody Godric… A few moments more, and Harry felt he mightn't have noticed an earthquake hit. The desperate look in Hermione's gaze told him she felt the same.

When they felt they could lay closely together and not get into further trouble, Hermione eased back over to him and lay with one leg and arm draped over him, and her head on his shoulder. He pulled her nearer him and wrapped his arms about her, resting his cheek on her hair and breathing in her scent.

"I love you," said Harry quietly.

"I love you too," Hermione raised her head briefly and smiled at him.

After a bit her breathing slowed, and Harry could tell she had fallen asleep. He smoothed a few errant curls from her face and with one arm, attempted to pull a bit of his rumpled bed coverings over them. He gave up after a few half-hearted tries rather than wake her.

"Soon," he sighed, and then gave himself up to the night.

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

The flames in the hearth turned a neon shade of green. A quickly revolving head soon slowed itself enough to peer quite frightfully at the dark lord, and the owner of the eyes instantly averted them. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he studied the face.

"Ah, the turncoat."

Colin blinked heavily. "To my shame."

"To your benefit," said the dark lord with narrowed eyes. "Or have you forgotten our agreement? It would well suit you to remember."

Had he not been facing Voldemort through the floo, Creevey would not be so bold as to show his disgust, but as fortune had it, he was.

"I haven't forgotten," he rasped angrily. He hated his own actions… hated Voldemort and everything he stood for, and more than everything else combined… completely loathed himself.

Voldemort favoured him with a nod. "Have you done as I instructed you?"

"I cast the subausculto spell on the knight in Harry's portrait; he acts the same...doesn't even know he's been tampered with. He's been listening to their conversations though he hasn't really overheard much of worth."

Voldemort sneered and glided closer to the hearth. "I will judge what information is or is not valuable, you insignificant bit of filth. If you wish to see your brother again, you'll tell me what you've learned."

Colin felt his chest constrict with fear but checked himself before he let it show. From his very short time being in contact with Voldemort, he'd discerned one trait of his that so far had proved valuable knowledge. The dark lord abhorred any sign of weakness. He had no doubt should anything he did or said aggravate the dark lord enough, he would have no qualms at killing Dennis simply for the pleasure of it… information be damned.

Voldemort raised an impatient eyebrow at the boy obviously trying to control his emotions. He was sure Potter's greatest admirer would never help him if he knew his brother had been killed long ago, though that bit of information would stay secret only for as long as the little bastard was needed. After, he would let it be known, and sit back comfortably to watch the show.

"Potter's training harder than ever... Running in the mornings, fighting the sword with his father, he's astounding with wandless magic. And Dumbledore's getting an army of his own," said Colin steadily. "He's begun recruiting and training as many as will fight with them somewhere here in Scotland. Cadogen didn't catch where."

"Hardly surprising," snarled Voldemort thoughtfully, his eyes surveying the Death Eaters still bowed before him. "Have you learned any locations he's sent his own team?"

"He doesn't tell Harry," said Colin. "Only tells him they're guarding different areas in our world as well as with the Muggles. He's got them in Diagon Alley and all over Hogsmeade."

"And the Black traitor?" said Voldemort. "I know he keeps in contact with him. His death would be invaluable."

Colin's heart leapt painfully in his chest. Harry had lost enough of those close to him. Thankfully, Colin himself had heard little on Sirius to try lying to Voldemort about it, though that point was a moot one. There was no lying to the dark lord, anyway.

"Harry's never mentioned aloud where he stays, though wherever it is, apparently his cousin and aunt are there as well and not at all happy with it."

Voldemort seemed to be storing the new information meticulously away in his brain. It wasn't much, but it was more than he would have known.

He turned abruptly back to face his informant. "What else?"

"Th..that's all I have," stuttered Colin. "They really don't openly discuss much. I only got that bit from the portrait. They don't even whisper on it much over meals, and that's really the only time I have much excuse to sit nearer them without looking suspicious."

"And yet," said Voldemort with distinct threat in his voice, "If you want your family whole again you'll continue to try, won't you?"

Colin grimaced, his mouth as dry as if it was stuffed with cotton. "Please... please could I just... see him a moment? Just to see he's alright..."

Voldemort scrutinised the young man with such cold intimidation in his glowing eyes that he could practically feel the squirming from the other side of the floo connect.

"Your reward comes when your task is complete, and not before."

Colin gritted his teeth desperately and blurted. "How do I know he's still alive then? It's not as if I can trust you, can I?"

"You seem to have forgotten you have no choice," Voldemort raised his voice angrily. "Need I remind you?"

"No!" shouted Colin wildly. "No I don't... I'm clear on it. I'm sorry."

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively at him. "Leave me. I expect your report next week, and with something considerably more substantial, am I clear?"

"Y..yes," stammered Colin, and he disappeared from the flames, their colour changing from green back to ruby glowing red once more.

When he had turned his gaze back to his Death Eaters, he saw one glance at him from beneath the hood of his robe; the signal he wished to speak.

"Crabbe…" said Voldemort impassively.

"My lord," the fat Death Eater shifted nervously in his seat. "I wonder wh..why we do not send for Potter… It would seem he is already desperate for the killing to stop. Would he not now hand himself over in exchange for the sparing of others?"

"I underestimated him once, I won't do it again," said Voldemort, his new muscles now tensed and his bone-white jaw clenched. "I want him desperate and broken, completely rash and unthinking. His greatest power lies in the..relationships..he's forged at that bloody school. I want him sure he's going to lose them all, his friends, his girlfriend, his godfather... his father. Before I'm through with Potter, he'll be reckless enough to rush headlong into the fight, help or none. I'll crush his body... and his spirit."

Lucius raised his head and favoured his master with a triumphant smile. "I'm sure you will, my lord."

Voldemort observed him briefly as if he were little more than an insect and ignored the comment. He dismissed the large group with admonitions that they were to continue assigned tasks and report periodically, and that reckoning was soon at hand.

As he watched the group file out, a cruel smile twisted the already horrific features of the dark lord's face. Life really was like a cracking game of chess, he thought in retrospect. Pawns to their places; knights, rooks and castles prepared to fight for the king… and in the end, the most cunning finished the victor.

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

A late night rapping on their portrait along with the sudden mad ravings of Sir Cadogen made Harry suddenly bolt upright in bed, his hand instinctively still clutching for his wand. Hermione sat up too, her eyes widened and as alert as one could be round four in the morning.

"Harry..."

"I'll go."

"I'll come too..." she said grabbing up her wand.

Harry grimaced and turned to her. "Hermione, I don't..."

"Don't bother arguing, it could be one of the Weasleys. I'm coming."

He shook his head, pulled on a pair of jeans, shoved his glasses onto his face and moved suspiciously toward the door, holding Hermione's hand and forcing her behind him. Surprise lit his face as his eyes met only a large, familiar abdomen.

"Hagrid?"

Hermione's eyes met Harry's with surprise. Knowing the half-giant was too large to fit through the portrait hole, both stepped out into dank torchlit halls, squinting against the assault of light against their eyes.

"I'm so s..sorry ta bother you 'Arry, 'Ermione... but you was close to 'im too, after all... knew him 'bout as long as I did..."

Hagrid's voice was hoarse with grief, large tears trickling into his beard and splashing onto the floor in front of them. Harry squinted up at him in confusion and Hermione moved to his side quickly, taking his large hand with her much smaller one.

"Hagrid, what is it, what's happened!?" asked Hermione fearfully as she peered up at his face. She had never seen him quite as upset as he was now, and as she had always held a soft spot for him, his grief pained her.

"Who were we close to?" asked Harry gently.

"It's Grawpie," sobbed Hagrid, balling his free hand into a ham sized fist. "E's dead. 'Im an' his whole tribe."

Chapter 32: Fudge's Greatest Regret

One asked of regret,

And I made reply:

To have held the bird,

And let it fly;

To have seen the star

For a moment nigh,

And lost it

Through a slothful eye;

To have plucked the flower

And cast it by;

To have one only hope-

To die.

Richard Le Gallienne. 1866-1947

Harry and Hermione stared shocked up at Hagrid, who was currently using a great brown handkerchief to blow his nose. The sound echoed like a deep trumpet through the dim hallway.

"Grawp!?" exclaimed Harry, quickly glancing Hermione's way. "When did... Hagrid, how'd you know?"

"I been up th' mountains to 'is camp 'bout once a month fer a visit," said Hagrid with a sorrowful hiccup to his voice. He swiped hard at his eyes. "Even when 'e decided on returnin' to the others I still wanted ta look out fer 'im... make sure 'e was alrigh'... Could'n leave 'im to 'imself, could I? We was fam'ly after all."

Hermione tightened her grip on Hagrid's hand, and Harry placed a consoling hand on his other arm.

"On'y fam'ly in th' world I had lef'," said Hagrid dully, sounding congested.

Hermione instantly tugged on his massive hand in reproof. "Hagrid, that's not true! You have a great family right here at Hogwarts! Professor Dumbledore really cares for you, and you know Harry, Ron and I love you!"

Harry nodded up at him. "She's right."

For a moment, Hagrid simply stared down at them until he let out a blaring, hoarse wail that startled Hermione a bit.

"Oh 'Ermione, thank you fer sayin' so! I dunno wha' I'd do withou' you an' 'Arry, there. An' if you don' min' my sayin' so, Grawpie felt th' very same abou' you two, I think. I know he ne'er regalarly said as much, but he did... you c'n be sure."

Harry resisted the impulse to point out that Grawp had never regularly 'said' much of anything save some grunting and incoherent phrases, and instead focused on the next obvious question.

"I'm sorry about your brother, Hagrid, really… But do you suspect who might've done it?"

Hagrid paused and sniffled for a moment before eyeing Harry with world-weary eyes. "You know the answer ta tha' one already, I think."

Hermione glanced Harry's way with less surprise than would have been normal in lesser circumstances, and then back up at Hagrid. Harry hung his head.

"You think Voldemort sent his servants," she stated quietly.

Hagrid shoved the huge brown handkerchief back into his pocket more forcefully than needed. "Ain' no thinkin' necess'ry. I know they done it."

"How can you be sure..." said Harry in little more than a whisper. Hermione glanced at him with concern.

"Was wand soot all o'er th' bodies," stated Hagrid sounding slightly nauseated. "Magic jes' cracklin' in th' air... Y'know, spell residue. No one decen' or in their righ' minds woulda gone to such trouble to try convincin' gian's ta join their side... it ain' as if it's a big secre' gian's don' like magic or the lot who use it. I'm guessin' the Gurg did' wan' no part of it."

"You think Voldemort was trying to bribe the giants over to his side?" Harry more stated than asked, a bit incredulously. "No matter how much I'd like to think it, he's not stupid. I can't imagine he'd think they would actually join."

"Mebbe he did, mebbe he din't," said Hagrid with a bitter edge to his voice. "Fact is he DID kill 'em. Weren' no skin off his nose if they refused, was it? He'd jes' as soon have 'em dead as livin' anyways."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose so."

After Hagrid took a moment to squash down his anger and compose himself, he glanced down at a weary and upset Harry, currently leaning against the stone wall of the hallway.

He'd always felt very tenderly toward Harry, truthfully ever since the last day of the boy's first year, when he had given Hagrid a hug and made known to those round him he felt his real home was Hogwarts. The hug had been the first bit of physical affection Hagrid had ever received from anyone, and he felt sure later, once he had found out more about Harry's life prior to school, it had been one of the first signs of affection Harry himself had ever felt. Since that day, and even now that he had grown into a much taller, capable young man, Hagrid had always felt very protective of Harry. As he looked down now on the moppet of black hair bowed low, he realised informing Harry about Grawp's death might have served to make him feel even guiltier than he already did. Mentally, Hagrid kicked himself. Adding more to Harry's heavy pile of burdens was the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do. He cleared his throat with an emotional grunt.

"My tellin' you it ain' yer fault won' make a bit of differ'nce to ya, I s'pose," he said in a mildly gruff voice.

Harry squinted up at him with a wan smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. "Not likely."

Hermione frowned.

"Well I'm... ah... I'm sorry fer tha' 'Arry," said Hagrid, retrieving his handkerchief to blast his nose in it once more. "Weren' never my intention y'know... I jes' though' you'n 'Ermione oughtta know wha' happened..."

Harry held up a hand. "I know Hagrid, it's alright. Somewhere inside I know none of this is my fault, really..."

Hermione choked somewhere in the back of her throat, and a look of utter relief washed over her face.

"Still, sometimes... I know what he's doing, I just... I just can't stand the thought of people being killed to get at me..." Harry clawed a hand through his hair, rumpling it even further.

"I dunno s'much as it was to get a' you," said Hagrid with a grimace. "Grawp was my brother, wasn' 'e?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "You're brother. He hurts you, he hurts me... and he knows it."

"And yet it could've been that he simply hates giants Harry," admonished Hermione quietly. "He hates all wizarding creatures, anything or anyone that isn't pure-blood wizard."

Harry nodded, frustrated. "You're right, of course. I just wish he'd just tell me where he is so I could finally meet him and end all this…"

Fear suddenly coiled itself tightly inside Hermione's abdomen, and her gaze shot up to meet his.

"NO!"

Startled at her outburst, both Hagrid and Harry stared down at her in slight bewilderment.

Harry spoke quietly. "It's going to happen some day, 'Mione. You Ron and I've all been having the same dream for some time now… We know how it ends; or at least how he wants it to end. Voldemort knows his powers will return if he kills me. He knows he needs them to make his psychotic dream of a bloody 'perfect' world come true..."

"He's been bating us Harry!" Hermione exclaimed frantically. "I know you can see that!"

" 'Course I can! But what other choice will I have if it comes down to it?" Harry shouted back agitatedly. "What would you have me do, lie back and let him kill until Dumbledore's army is ready!? If I show, he'll stop! I just need to know where he is…"

"In the dream we were ALL killed," Hermione breathed out desperately. She moved from Hagrid's side to clutch Harry's hand in hers and stared up into his eyes. "Maybe it'll take all of us being done in for Voldemort to get what he wants, not just you! In any case, we know now we're all three supposed to fight together! Something more powerful happens when it's the three of us and you'll need it when facing him!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione vehemently shook her head at him.

"Promise me you'll never go off for him on your own… Promise me, Harry!"

Hermione had reached her hands up to either side of his face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Harry was utterly still as he stared down at her.

He knew if Voldemort sent him a proposition and a place to meet to end the killing; whatever demand was made, he would have no choice but to meet it.

Somewhere past the Hermione-focussed part of his brain he knew Hagrid was still standing there, probably shifting nervously and feeling embarrassed to be witnessing such a private conversation.

Yet, all Harry could concentrate on was Hermione's face; the look of pleading and absolute desperation in her eyes as she begged him to reassure her he would never go off alone. And because he knew what a sick bastard Voldemort was, he could promise nothing of the sort.

Harry swallowed, trying to stop his stoic expression from crumbling. He stared down at the person he loved more than any other and watched an painful foreboding cross her face; her eyes bright with fear as she stared into his own, examining him.

Damn it to hell, WHY does she have to see through me so well!?… Harry tried gritting his teeth to keep the tears at bay, but his heart rebelled against it. He almost couldn't stand watching her face crumble, her raw, discerning eyes locked onto his own.

Once again he opened his mouth to speak, but the voice they heard next was not his own.

"You'd do well to listen to her, son."

Harry, Hermione and Hagrid jumped for a moment before whirling around to see Professor Lupin emerge from the dark shadows of the hallway.

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat and sighed wearily. "Dad, what're you..."

However, as he saw his father's haunted expression he paused, and his voice turned stony.

"What's happened..."

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

( A few hours before…)

Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, sat pompous and disdainful behind his desk as he narrowed his small eyes at the subdued Daily Prophet reporter before him. It was half past eight in the evening, and the offices of the Ministry had long since emptied of tired, passive workers all bent on apparating or flooing home as soon as possible. The only two he had insisted on staying were his Deputy Prime Minister, Delores Umbridge, and his Senior Undersecretary, Percival Weasley.

Umbridge, standing squat and toad-like behind him and wearing a broad, sharp-toothed grin, had been invaluable in helping him understand that the possibility the dark lord had returned was unlikely. It was far more plausible, as she smoothly put it, that some other wizard bent on taking the dark lord's place, and using isolated acts of violence to try doing so, was attempting to stir up fear in their community; possibly one hired by Dumbledore for that very reason. After all, hadn't Dumbledore always been after his, Fudge's, position? What better way to win it than to frighten the wizarding world into thinking their greatest enemy had returned with a vengeance, and that the current minister was ill-equipped to handle it? Would not the Wizengamot reinstate Dumbledore as Supreme Mugwump should they come to believe his and the Potter boy's tales? Would not they desire someone as powerful as Dumbledore seemed to be to take over in such an event?

Fact was that the Ministry needed to take control of what news was being released to the Wizarding community. It simply would not do to allow Dumbledore and Harry bloody Potter to influence the press, and therefore undermine Fudge's seat of power.

Moreover, even if all this were not the case, Fudge simply could not wrap his mind round the idea You-Know-Who had returned. It had been so long, and why had the dark lord waited until just now? How very conveniently it all would work out for the Headmaster. Of the fact that the dark lord's return was a ploy to regain Dumbledore's standing in the community, Fudge had no doubt. Especially after the wild-eyed, crazed spectacle back some three years ago at the Tri-Wizarding Tournament Harry Potter had put on, reappearing as he did, and clutching the body of a dead boy.

No…if the mental lad really had faced You-Know-Who he would most certainly be dead; there was no way he could have returned alive from it. However, the boy certainly had a flair for frightening people, that was for sure. Dramatics and falsities, indeed.

Most likely, this deception in itself had been the start of Dumbledore's plan to rid Fudge of his office, using the delusions of the boy-who-lived to do so. Umbridge was right… the whole lot of them were mad and power-hungry, and by Merlin, he would NOT allow their influence over anything… including the Daily Prophet.

"And that is all you'll be reporting?" asked Fudge in a nasally demanding voice as he stared down the thin reporter called Edmund Pillings.

Pillings nodded, extremely intimidated at being stared down by the Minister of Magic and his successor. To Fudge's right, Percy Weasley sat straight-backed and pompous, eyeing the reporter as if he himself had authority over him as well. Every now and then during the conversation Weasley dipped his head rather importantly to scratch notes onto a large wooden clipboard, the sound of which made Edmund want to force said clipboard up said Senior Undersecretary's rectum.

Pillings closed his eyes for a brief moment and contained himself. It wouldn't do to get snarky with the Minister of Magic or his underlings. Fudge could have him fired from his job in a matter of minutes.

"If you please Minister Fudge," he began. "I simply can't fathom why you don't want it reported that an entire Muggle building full of people, a mall they call it, was blown to bits yesterday! And accounts of smaller incidents are being reported now all over our world as well! Killings in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley…all half-wizards and Muggle borns. Just since last week there's been six new ones… six! Witnesses are saying the men are dressed like… like You-Know-Who's Death Eaters used to dress! And your own law enforcement have been seeing to them…"

"Yes well I'm not going to allow crimes to go uninvestigated or unpunished, am I?" said Fudge with distinct irritation. "It's just too bad the felons have been so swift to flee after they've done."

Pillings lowered his eyebrows aggrivatedly. "Well, its news that needs reporting if you ask me…"

Delores Umbridge spoke up in a sweetly poisonous voice. "I don't believe anyone did ask you though, did they?"

Pillings heaved a sigh in frustration. "But our front pages have been cut down to nothing but meaningless sensation stories with the real news being shoved in tiny paragraphs toward the back! I just believe we're owed some explanation…"

"You're owed nothing of the sort!" Fudge's face flushed angrily. He placed fat clenched fists on the polished wood of the desk in front of him and leaned forward. "If I want you reporting on bloody garden gnomes and their impact on the common household, you'll ruddy well be taking notes!"

Pilling's nostrils flared rather angrily, but he kept himself tight-lipped. It was the same for every damn issue of the Prophet, anyway. Fudge sent for the reporter designated to write the top stories for that week, and after being briefed on what had been going on amongst the community, the reporter was then told what stories were or were not permitted to run. Pillings snorted derisively to himself. That way, he figured, Fudge couldn’t be accused of not allowing important issues to be reported. Though even the ones he actually allowed were moved toward the back of the paper in a less popular section... a place where they were least likely to be read.

"But Minister Fudge," tried Pillings again, doing his best to keep his voice steady and respectful. "Our editors are getting suspicious. I've heard them talking. They say it looks dodgy, as if you're trying to hide something incriminating about yourself, and that can't be good for you or your position. Can't you at least give me something to tell them?"

Behind Fudge, Umbridge frowned. Wagging tongues and sinking public opinion of the Minister was definitely NOT what she wanted. As long as Fudge was in power she was able to easily direct the goings on at the Ministry, though by all accounts that would soon be a moot point. Even so, having the Daily Prophet think Fudge was hiding something was not good. After all, ever since Umbridge had proved herself smart and capable enough to try turning things round two years ago at Hogwarts, although her position had not worked out, Cornelius had come to implicitly trust her and her judgement... the ignorant clot. Dolores smiled as an image of Voldemort flashed through her mind. Master had rewarded her quite well for gaining Fudge's trust, and she certainly did not want public opinion of the Minister to diminish.

Umbridge plastered a wise, innocent smile on her face and leaned down, though she hadn't far to lean, to whisper conspiratorially into Fudge's ear.

"Perhaps in a way, he is right, Minister. After all, you and I may understand the mind games Dumbledore is trying to employ, but as Pillings has said, it must seem a bit.. shall we say.. clandestine to others. Perhaps we should explain the situation, at least to those advertising wizards at the Prophet."

Fudge grimaced and turned his head a bit to catch the side of her flabby face. "And once they hear our theories on Dumbledore and his mad plots, you don't think they'll believe I’m the nutter?"

"Remember earlier through your brilliant direction, how they came to recognise the Potter boy's dodgy antics and lies," simpered Umbridge quietly. Beside them, Percy nodded sanctimoniously. "If made to understand the situation by someone as keen and distinguished as yourself, surely they will take a different tack. After all, it simply would not do to have public opinion swayed Dumbledore's way, would it?"

"But Dumbledore still has many supporters who would believe his lies over the truth," hissed Fudge. "I can't risk alienating those who follow him either!"

"Then you shall simply leave out his name," whispered Umbridge. "One need not know the name of the conspirator to understand the conspiracy. It will be enough for the Prophet to understand the public is trying to be fooled without pointing out the perpetrator. Nevertheless you, of course, are Minister, Cornelius. I sincerely hope it remains that way... I should miss working with you."

She straightened once again with a particularly satisfied smile, and watched Fudge's face flush a deep red. Pillings eyed them dubiously.

Fudge nervously cleared his throat. "Well… alright, then. I'll tell you what's been going on. However, I want it understood this information is to stay STRICTLY within the walls of the Daily Prophet, am I understood?"

"Clearly," said Edmund Pillings with a relieved look on his face.

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

Some time later, after doing his level best to convince Edmund Pillings of the unknown conspirator's power-hungry, wicked plots to take control of the Ministry, and being solidly agreed with at every turn by Umbridge and a very haughty Percy Weasley, Fudge still had not quite gained the trust of the reporter. He seemed keen on understanding just who it was Fudge suspected; so much so that eventually, the Minister gave in and began explaining fully his theories on Albus Dumbledore.

Far from being upset by this however, Umbridge smiled. She had planned for just such an eventuality, knowing a reporter was never satisfied until the entirety of a tale had become known, and had urged Fudge to tell the story fully aware of this. Truth was, most of her 'work' tonight was being done merely for the Daily Prophet's sake, as much of what Fudge believed would soon no longer matter.

Though the idea that Voldemort was still gone from their world would very soon be reversed, perhaps the media might come to believe Dumbledore had an alliance with the dark lord. It didn't hurt to have them doubting the Headmaster, did it? One small seed of distrust planted might grow to wreak havoc later on.

Fudge ended his rant and sat back in his chair, huffing and thoroughly red in the face. However, the expression he saw on Pillings' face was quite the opposite of what he had hoped for, and it set his nerves on edge.

The reporter leaned back in his chair and stared at him. "Albus Dumbledore, you say…"

"Yes," Fudge stated shortly, huffing.

"Using the Potter boy to deceive the public…" stated Pillings colourlessly, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes."

"And sending false Death Eaters to kill and pillage in order to have the Wizengamot reinstate him…"

"Along with eventually taking over my seat as Minister of Magic, YES!" snapped Fudge. The veins in his bulbous nose, a result of too much ale, rose up dark blue with anger. Behind him, Umbridge hid a small, crafty smile.

Pillings again sat perfectly still and thought to himself; the silence so deafening in the room that Fudge could hear the maddening, repetitive sounds of the reporter's steady breathing… in and out…in and out…

Finally, Pillings spoke. "Impossible."

"What!?" Fudge's eyes flashed with insult, and he smashed a fist down hard on his desk with a loud *thump*. "Do you mean to call me a liar!?"

"Not at all," Pillings replied.

"Then exactly what do you mean by it!?"

"Only that perhaps you're... mistaken," stated Pillings calmly. "I simply can't fathom it. Albus Dumbledore has never shown any indication he holds anything for the dark arts other than the deepest loathing. And I can't believe he's the sort that would kill innocent witches and wizards simply to gain power. He's never done the likes before, and I can't believe he'd resort to it now. Besides, he's always said he's happy with where he is… He's never tried to take over the Ministry before, has he?"

Delores Umbridge cleared her throat with an irritatingly high-pitched (hem, hem), and three sets of eyes turned her way. She smiled sweetly. "I don't believe the Minister must be in error, as you imply, simply because Dumbledore has never before been perceived a certain way. Perhaps he has simply tired of being Headmaster... Perhaps, in his latter years, he wishes now to take on authorities and powers he has never before done. And it is true when things do not seem to be going his way, as with the Potter boy's trial two years ago, that he tends to force himself in; acting with much more authority and command than he should, is it not?"

As Fudge thought on it, the reaccounting of how Dumbledore had embarrassed him in front of the full Ministry court some two years ago further inflamed his anger.

"Right you are!" he shouted in a blustery voice. "The man has always given himself more power than should be allowed!"

Pillings scoffed at him. "But that still doesn't prove he's been behind the killings! Those in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even Muggle England... There's no proof of it! It's all speculation!"

Fudge leaned forward on his desk to fix Pillings with a death-like glare and spoke next in a dangerously calm voice. "And yet, if you value your job, it's speculation you'll accept, isn't it? You are right that we do not yet have solid proof, but it will come with time, of that I'm certain… Just as certain in fact, as I am that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is NOT back from the dead."

"But what if he never really died!?" exclaimed Pillings. "You can't deny it's a possibility!"

"If he had never died, I don't think he would've waited sixteen years to finally make his move, do you!? The mere mention of it is utterly ridiculous, and I am done talking with you. You will report what I've told you to your editors and to your employer, and the Daily Prophet will continue to write only what is Ministry approved or so help me, I'll have the whole paper shut down. Have I made myself clear?"

Pillings eyed the Minister with an angry, sour scowl before replying. "Crystal."

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

Eight o'clock had turned into nine forty five with such a fast revolution of the clocks hands that as Fudge caught a glimpse of his own office clock, he almost felt as if he'd used a time turner.

Umbridge still sat beside him on a plush, green chair, one that made her appear she was perched on a giant toadstool.

Fudge rubbed his temples. The annoying reporter for the Prophet had finally taken his leave, thank Merlin. The Minister paused in his recitation of notes to Percy, which caused the latter to look up from his scratching.

"Minister Fudge are you alright? Might I get you something?"

"No... I'm fine Wilkins, perfectly fine, thank you."

Percy scowled inwardly. Two and a half years working for Cornelius Fudge, and the Minister had yet to get his name right. Ah well, thought Percy with a sniff, it doesn't really matter, after all. After Umbridge, he was next in line to take the position of Minister of Magic, and he was not going to let something as trivial as being named incorrectly hurt his chances, was he?

Fudge sighed. "Albus Dumbledore won't rest until he has brainwashed the entirety of the Wizarding community! He sits at that damnable school, day after day, with nothing to do but hatch horrible plans to take over the very heart of our government, using that devious, mental Potter lad to do it! The very thought sickens me."

Percy nodded vigorously. "I agree with you one hundred percent, Minister. Potter is delusional... I've known it for a long time. However, he is quite good at passing off his fantasies as reality. I'm sure soon as Dumbledore recognised the opportunity to fool the public he seized on it. He might be old, but he is certainly as cunning as ever."

Delores Umbridge smiled slyly, her beady eyes moving from Percy to the Minister and back as if watching a particularly entertaining cricket match.

"Too true, Williams, too true," stated Fudge grudgingly, now looking up from staring at his highly polished desk. "And it is late, isn't it? This report must be finished up, but soon as we're done with it, we'll call it a night. I'm feeling the need for a long rest."

Umbridge shifted a bit in her seat and eyed him. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get it soon enough."

"Let us hope so," Fudge grunted, and then opened his mouth to begin reciting to Percy, who had his quill poised and ready, once again. However, Umbridge spoke up again.

"Oh you need not hope on it," she grinned sweetly. "You do so much for the Wizarding world. You deserve a nice long rest... I'm sure it will be coming any minute now."

Both Fudge and Percy shifted a bit to glance confusedly at her, but Umbridge's only reply was a calm glance at the Ministry's wall clock. The scroll and wand hands clicked over, and the muffled gonging of the tenth evening hour began. However, along with it, came several other events.

Three loud cracking noises sounded directly behind them. Fudge and Percy jumped out of their chairs with small yelps of surprise, and turned to find the sources. Having heard the sounds of apparating so often right after his brothers, Fred and George, received their licenses, Percy recognised the sounds immediately and began fumbling straight away for his wand. However, as it turned out, the figures behind him were prepared for just such an eventuality.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled one figure cloaked all in black. The eyes behind the slits in his hood, crinkling at the corners, were the only thing that alerted them to the fact the Death Eater was smiling.

Percy's wand was instantly snatched from him and soared across the room to land into the hooded man's outstretched hand. However, it was the sight of who, or what, was standing behind the two Death Eaters that filled both Percy and Fudge with a most desperate, utter horror.

Both fell back a bit, completely terrified, though Fudge stumbled back so quickly, he tripped over his chair and landed unceremoniously hard on his arse.

Umbridge grinned.

"There is no need for such an important man as yourself to bow," said Voldemort sarcastically, standing tall, and managing to seem both skeletal and powerful at the same time. The two Death Eaters before him chuckled.

Fudge opened his mouth, but nothing came out save a string of incoherent, wheezing phrases. "Y..y..you… H..h..how… Not p..possib..ble… C..can't be… N..not r..real…"

"Oh I assure you I am very real," said Voldemort with a smile, coming out from behind his Death Eaters to stand before a cowering Fudge.

Percy opened and closed his mouth like an oxygen-starved fish, his eyes wide and staring, and his freckled face completely drained of colour. Beside him, Umbridge stood calmly, her face stretched into an impossibly wide grin.

Fudge turned his jerky gaze her way, the veins standing out so far on his face that they appeared web-like. "D..dream..m…?"

Umbridge shook her head, her grin still plastered in place. "Oh no Cornelius, it is hardly a dream though I can imagine it all must seem quite unreal to you. You've been so easy to manipulate these few years, it's hardly seemed a chore at all... I must thank you before you go."

She gazed at him indulgently. Beside her, Percy promptly fainted. If Voldemort had possessed something more than a glowing red aura for eyes, he would have rolled them with disgust.

"Move the coward to the side," he said, gesturing lazily at Percy's slumped body. The Death Eaters moved forward, seized Percy by the arms, and dragged him across the room to dump him into a corner.

Fudge watched with watery eyes and turned his quivering gaze back onto Voldemort. Fear shot like lightening through his every nerve ending. The dark lord's cold gaze was completely unmoved by Cornelius' obvious terror; a fact that made the Minister's heart beat with anxiety so impossibly fast that it seemed as if the muscle was seizing within his chest.

Voldemort neared him and folded his arms, peering almost conversationally down at him.

"My servant has been reporting your thoughts and actions to me for some time now," he said calmly. "I must say she is not lying. She has come to regard you rather fondly, quite as one would a pet hyppogriff. Nevertheless, as with all things, this too must come to an end. I must say though Minister Fudge, it has most certainly been a pleasure. There is no one who has served me quite so well, I think."

"I d..d..don't unders..st..tand," stuttered Fudge pathetically. "H..how…"

"Oh it is quite simple," said Voldemort, slipping his wand out of the pocket of his robes and tapping it thoughtfully on one thin white hand. "With my servant Malfoy lining your pockets with gold, you have successfully changed many a law to suit our purposes. And your complete refusal for years on end to believe in my survival or return has provided me with enough time and cover to become thoroughly equipped for taking over. Not only have I re-formed my body, but under full concealment of the Ministry I have had enough time to fully attain an army. One that, Salazar willing, will prove the end of the loathsome infiltration of Muggles and mudbloods in our world."

Voldemort smiled a ruthless icy grin. " I have you to thank for that Fudge. Do not think simply because I must kill you now, that I will not be eternally grateful."

"B..but… P..P..Potter…l..lying!" snivelled Fudge, his hands now clasped pathetically in front of him in a pleading gesture. His next words spilled out impossibly fast. "He h..had to have b..been! How could the boy still be al..live after all this time!?"

Voldemort growled furiously, and the look on his pale face was so horrific that Fudge cringed back; the back of his hand against his mouth.

"Potter...," breathed Voldemort dangerously. The hand not holding his wand clenched into a tight fist. "I will take every.. last.. person he loves, and tear them to shreds. Then I'll take his life."

Umbridge's eyes widened with twisted expectation upon hearing Voldemort's words. "I should very much like to see that my lord."

Voldemort nodded once to her, and she grinned maniacally.

Fudge dropped his head, tears of regret now streaming down his face. "Gods… oh g..gods! How could I have been so ruddy blind..." He looked up again into the unrelenting face of Voldemort. "You've had the power to replace m..me with one of your own for some time n..now, I gather. Why haven't you done…"

"Before?" Voldemort cut him off, only too happy to answer the Minister's pointless questions. "Your own refusal to believe I had returned served me well enough, did it not? Why remove one who has done so well on his own? Moreover, my servant needed time within the Ministry to advance her position, and win your trust. These made her indispensable… However, now that she has done, has planted the seeds of doubt concerning Dumbledore within the Daily Prophet, and is next in line for your office, I see no reason any longer to delay the inevitable, do you?"

Fudge's head drooped to his chest in surrender. He knew there was no escaping, and worst of all, knew his own determination to be oblivious to the truth had led him to the position he was now in.

In the corner of the elaborate office Percy had begun to moan. Voldemort waved a careless hand in the direction of his Death Eaters, and they moved at once to drag the half-conscious redhead back over beside Fudge and drop him in a heap.

"Revive him," Voldemort ordered tonelessly.

One Death Eaters stepped forward and pointed his wand. "Rescusito!"

Percy opened his eyes, coughing, spluttering and instantly aware, though the sight of Voldemort looming above him did little to calm his nerves. He gave a pathetic sort of shriek upon gazing up at dark evil figure, and Voldemort bared his teeth in annoyance.

"Silence idiot! How you can be related to the rest of the Weasley clan is astounding to me. They may be poor, filthy blood-traitors, but cowards they are not."

Percy immediately fell silent, though his body continued to shake uncontrollably. Voldemort's lip curled in a disgusted sort of sneer.

"To your fortune Weasley, I wish you to live. Though I will, of course, be obliviating certain information from your mind, you will be the final means to my unveiling. You will watch your employer's death and carry back to the wizarding world the fact that Voldemort has returned."

He smiled widely. "The panic will be widespread. The whole of our world will fall into panicked chaos... until it finally dawns that there must be some sense made of all the confusion. Which is when my servant, as new head of the Ministry, will be called upon to return sanity and order to the people, along with every law and alteration that will benefit our movement."

"But will the people not turn to Dumbledore, as I had feared? They have done before," said Fudge in hopes that Voldemort might see things as he did.

"Oh no," said Voldemort with a satisfied sort of smirk. "They may already be filled with doubt on where his loyalties really lie, and he will be much too busy with what I have planned... Even Dumbledore cannot handle two such large things at once. Make no mistake, the people will turn to the Ministry, and using their confusion, my servant will lead them toward my new order."

Umbridge smiled up at Voldemort. "I live to serve you, master."

"Indeed you do," said Voldemort evenly, raising his wand lazily to point directly between the eyes of a shuddering Cornelius Fudge.

He smiled coldly at him. "It has been a pleasure, Minister… Avada Kedavra!"

Fudge's terrified gaze immediately relaxed and he slumped almost gracefully into a heap beside Percy. Weasley cried out in fear, turning his shocked gaze from the dead Minister back up to Voldemort.

"You shall live as promised," stated Voldemort with an exasperated sigh. "But there are some things you've witnessed today that must remain hidden, are there not?"

He turned for the last time toward Umbridge. "Your duties are evident, I gather?"

"Oh yes my lord," said Umbridge gleefully.

Voldemort nodded to her and to his Death Eaters, and in his mind, focussed on what he did not want Weasley remembering… Delores Umbridge's ties to him, and her attempts to sway public opinion on Dumbledore. He pointed his wand at Percy's head.

"Obliviate!"

No sooner had the spell been cast than Voldemort and his servants disapparated with three loud simultaneous *cracks*.

Umbridge sighed contentedly and glanced at Percy's expression of mingled terror and confusion as he began blabbering about the dark lord. She ignored him and sat down comfortably in her new office chair to begin composing a long owl post. It was one which she would copy and send to the Daily Prophet and to each department head of the Ministry, about the awful, unforeseeable return of Voldemort (with hints of Dumbledore's real loyalties thrown in for good measure), and the tragedy that had just befallen Cornelius Fudge.

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

Harry and Hermione left Hagrid, knowing he could never fit inside any school quarters, and followed Harry's father; both noting silently to themselves how his quick stride made it seem as if something bad must have happened.

Down further on the seventh floor, they caught Ron and Lavender having a snog behind a suit of armour standing with its hands on its hips in an utterly disapproving manner. Harry made quick apologies to Lavender and grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him along.

"Oy, Harry!" barked Ron angrily; his hair rumpled and his sweater bunched up round his waist. He wrenched his arm from Harry's grasp. "Are you completely mad!? What'd you do that for!?"

"Something's happened," Hermione answered breathlessly for him.

"Well, what is.."

"Dunno yet," said Harry, "Following Dad to his room. I expect he'll explain there."

As they entered Lupin's quarters, they immediately noticed Dumbledore dressed in his royal purple dressing gown, and perched on one of the armchairs in front of the hearth. He seemed to be conversing with someone in the glowing green fire, and upon coming closer, they immediately recognised the shaggy head.

"Sirius!" said Harry with a wide grin, despite the situation.

"Nice to see you too, Harry." Sirius said, smiling.

Lupin turned away from them toward his dining table to pull up three more chairs for Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but Dumbledore tutted at him.

"No need James, no need…" He waved his wand in a complicated sort of way and three extra plush armchairs appeared beside Lupin's.

The four sat, and Sirius eyed them gravely. "You've figured out why you're here, I suppose."

Harry grimaced. "What's happened…"

"Albus and I've been discussing it," said Sirius. He went on to describe in detail the most recent murders done in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and in Muggle England, Surrey. Hermione gave a horrified jump when he described yesterday morning's news of an explosion at a mall, which Muggle authorities were investigating as some sort of terrorist act.

"Bloody hell," breathed Ron, his eyes wide. "What's a mall, then? Were there a lot of Muggles killed?"

"It's one huge building full of shops," stated Hermione miserably. Harry reached over and grabbed her hand. "Thank Merlin mum and dad are with Gran in Edinburgh…"

"That's good news at least," said Lupin.

"A mall doesn't sound very important though, does it?" stated Ron. "Wonder why Voldemort would want to attack it?"

"For no other reason than to strike fear into our world and into the Muggles," said Dumbledore with an anger that seemed oddly out of sorts on his usually amiable face. "And the fact he's chosen such a large group of targets at once to attack is a very bad sign, I'm afraid."

Harry gazed over at him and spoke quietly. "Why's that?"

"Because it means he's getting ready to make himself known," answered Sirius ominously.

"But to the Muggles as well!?" blurted Hermione. "If he did, what then? It'd give him a lot more enemies at once to fight, wouldn't it? I can't believe he would be so daft."

"Nor can I," said Dumbledore. "Which is why I believe he's choosing to attack Muggle civilians. To attack those in government would bring about a whole different sort of investigation. He'll save that until he's ready to completely take over Muggle England... No... these attacks were simply to spread fear and panic in both our world and theirs."

"And yet he's attacked our government," said Sirius angrily, "which is what we were just discussing. And taking into account what you just said Albus, we can only assume he's at least ready to try taking over our side."

"Confusion and disorder are clever tactics when planning a war," said Lupin.

Harry stiffened. "Wh…hang on… What'd you mean he's attacked our government!?"

"We were getting to that," sighed Lupin tiredly, glancing at the clock on his mantle reading six a.m. Upon looking out the window, he realised with a bit of shock that the pink, orange and dusky purple of early sunrise had already begun painting the mountain peaks beyond the school.

Dumbledore spoke up. "Round midnight I received an owl from one of my loyal contacts at the Prophet. It was a copy of a letter from the Ministry, detailing the murder of Cornelius Fudge by Voldemort some two hours earlier, and making hints at my own 'true loyalties'."

"No one will believe that rubbish," scowled Sirius.

But Harry, Hermione and Ron gasped aloud.

"Voldemort killed Minister Fudge!?" cried Hermione. "But how was he able to get into the building!? There are anti-apparition wards, and Ron's dad said after working hours they shut down all the floos!"

"Never stopped him before, did it?" Ron said angrily. "But after what happened two years ago you would think the Ministry would bodge up their bloody defences better!"

But Harry's eyes narrowed. "And now that Fudge is gone, who's acting Minister in his stead?" he asked Dumbledore.

"Delores Umbridge was next in line," Dumbledore answered, with distinct suspicion in his voice. "It was also she who wrote the letter."

Harry swore furiously, thumping a fist on the arm of his chair. "Son of a bitch… There's your answer, Hermione. She must've lifted the wards to allow him access."

"Of that I have no doubt, Harry." Dumbledore said, and then shifted his focus on Ron. "Ronald, your brother Percy witnessed the attack on Fudge."

Ron's face paled, and several emotions tore through his body at once. Fear for his brother, although he still wholeheartedly considered him a bastard for turning his back on his own family, Harry and Dumbledore; relief that he had finally seen the truth with his own eyes, and immense satisfaction that the arsehole finally knew he had been wrong all along. However, in the end, fear won out above all others.

"Is he alright?"

"He's alive," said Dumbledore. "Although I dare say he's a bit shaken up for it. Molly sent word…he's at the Burrow as we speak."

"The Burrow!?" exclaimed Ron. His expression was one of mingled shock and awe. "Bloody hell... Only time he's been back in two years was for Bill's funeral."

"I imagine he's had a change of heart," Sirius said drolly, with a subtle raise of one eyebrow.

"No doubt," said Lupin. "Coming face to face with Voldemort must've woken him right up."

Harry continued to stare moodily out into the now dawning morning, with Hermione glancing worriedly at him.

Dumbledore spoke up into the quiet. "I'm certain it was Fudge restraining the Prophet from overly reporting the recent killings."

"Overly reporting?" scoffed Harry. "If you hadn't just told us what's been happening, we wouldn't have known. I've not seen anything on them!"

"Oh the articles are there," said Sirius, whose head was still wavering among the green tinted flames of Lupin's hearth. "Though you practically have to bang out a magnifying glass to see them as they're so small and hidden in the least likely areas of the paper. I found the article on Florean Fortescue's attack hidden near an advertisement for jewellery at Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. Got her after closing as she was counting her till. She's half-Muggle, you know."

"Is… Is she dead?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Oh yeah," said Sirius flatly. "And I would expect nothing less. Even emptied the till, though I'm sure that was to make it seem like some sort of bungled robbery. But that's all bullocks, isn't it? Even before this letter half the wizarding world was already sure he was back, no matter how much the Ministry tried denying it."

"Or covering it up," Harry said in a forced sort of calm.

"I do believe Cornelius simply could not bear to believe the truth, Harry," stated Dumbledore quietly. "And now, with him gone, and Umbridge in control of the Ministry, I'm certain she will begin changing things round to Voldemort's advantage. Just as certain as I am, that the fact that Voldemort has now ended the life of one who has been so valuable in concealing the reality of his return can only mean one thing."

Lupin spoke up quietly. "He's ready for war."

Dumbledore nodded. "Most certainly. It is now only a matter of time until he makes his demands known, or, as I'm sure he knows of our resistance, tries attacking us." He nodded toward Harry, Hermione and Ron. "I'm sorry I sent for you three so early in the morning, but I wanted you warned. Ronald, you and Hermione will be invaluable to Harry's success when the final battle with Voldemort comes about, but you both know that. You three have some sort of extra power when you're together, and you mustn't abandon it... at any cost."

The Headmaster sent a quick, significant glance Harry's way as if sending him a mental warning. He knows your death is the key to regaining his powers… He'll send for you, and he'll want you alone…Be prepared, Harry… He'll send for you…

Nevertheless, Harry already knew, and didn't need a meaningful look from Dumbledore to begin his thoughts swirling in an ever maddeningly, anxiety filled rush. After all, he already looked for the owl to come every night. THE owl. The one that would make him choose between the deaths of countless others, or a one on one face-off between himself and the dark lord. He knew it was coming… it was only a matter of time…

"Well I imagine the death of the Minister of Magic ought to make the front page of the Prophet, as well as a few well-placed insinuations about you Albus," said Lupin gravely, standing. "Breakfast should be quite the affair this morning."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, standing as well. He turned to look at Sirius, who had turned his head to speak to someone beyond what they could see.

"I know that, Petunia, and Dudley will be fed, rest assured… Because my refrigerator is self-filling! It replenishes itself when it's low… NO, it won't hurt you!"

He turned his haggard face back toward Lupin's quarters, and received mixed looks of pity and wry smiles all round.

"How are you handling it?" asked Harry, his hands shoved in his pockets, and the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously. Hermione glowered disapprovingly at him and Ron.

Sirius glared at him and muttered. "As well as you did, I reckon. They are… somewhat demanding, aren't they?"

Harry finally gave up and grinned. "Demanding? I could think of stronger words for it."

Sirius turned his head for a moment as if checking that all was clear, and turned back round, grimacing. "All right, you sod. They're right pains in the arse, that's what. Petunia feeds me a steady diet of nagging when she's not found something to clean, which is a trial within itself, at times. She found a nest of chizpurfle last week in a pile of old rags Kreacher must've bundled long ago for an extra bed in Buckbeak's old room. Still haven't found every foul thing he scattered about… anyway… She almost fainted…started shouting at me as if it was my fault… took her a week to try cleaning again. And Dudley... Merlin's beard... thank Godric Hagrid took Buckbeak someplace else last year or I’m afraid I might've woken up one day to a pile of nothing but hippogriff bones. I don't know if it's boredom or what… but when the boy's not whining and complaining, he's eating everything in sight! My cooler almost can't keep up with him. I think it's becoming resentful. It tried to chomp my hand off last night when I reached in for a butterbeer."

"Oh Sirius," Hermione cooed sympathetically.

"HA! Now you see what Harry's lived with for so long!" Ron guffawed so loud that Hermione pinched him hard on the arm.

"Minus Vernon, of course," said Harry.

Lupin glanced apologetically Harry's way, regretting to the very day leaving his son with such people, but saw he had only a grin on his face.

"Sorry you're having to put up with them," Harry smiled. "I can only hope it won't be much longer, but…"

Sirius shook his head. "Ah well… no worries, Harry. I must say having them round is better than no company at all. And each night after the evening news, they both seem a bit more grateful for their protection here. I've been teaching them to understand what bits of the news might be Voldemort's doing. They're usually far more settled after."

"I can imagine," said Lupin.

Sirius spoke a few words more and then vanished himself from the fire, leaving Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry, Hermione and Ron alone in the room.

After a moment's silence, Ron sighed. "I should go see Percy, I suppose... Not that the git deserves any pity, mind you."

Dumbledore favoured him with a wan smile. "You can floo home from my office if you like. I'm giving you three the day off from school as I can't imagine you'll be able to concentrate on only a few hours sleep…"

Hermione immediately spoke up in a fast, panicky sort of voice. "No! Professor Dumbledore we can't afford to take any time off… N.E.W.T.s are only a few months away and we're already behind on studying as it is…"

Dumbledore held up a hand and fought the wry smile that threatened to take over his expression. "As you wish, Ms. Granger, as you wish. I'm only giving you the option."

"I'll take you up on it," said Ron as he stood and yawned. "I should probably go home to see the prat's alright."

Hermione scowled. "Yes well, I imagine a long night's worth of snogging must be quite exhausting," she said scornfully as she stood.

"How's that?" asked Lupin, frowning.

Ron eyed her with disbelief and grabbed her arm, pulling her to one side. He rasped out a reply through clenched teeth. " 'Mione... I thought we were mates…"

"You shouldn't be let off from school because you were out late in the halls with Lavender!" Hermione scolded quietly. "It's our seventh year in case you've forgot, Ron! We can't afford to sod about anymore!"

Harry paid them no attention. "I'll take it too, Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione whirled around. "Harry! Not you too…"

"I've got a lot to think on," he said firmly. "You can go to classes if you want... I'll go back tomorrow, no worries."

Hermione sagged, looking thoroughly disappointed.

Lupin smiled fondly at Hermione. "Let's at least all have breakfast first. I imagine Dobby can have something for us this early, can't he?"

Dumbledore nodded, and all left Lupin's quarters together to head to the Great Hall, each with expectations of the Daily Prophet's newest headline emblazoned in their thoughts.

Chapter 33: The Beginning of the End

Ron caught Ginny already awake and wandering the halls early, and informed her about their meeting with Dumbledore and Sirius, and of Percy's sudden change of heart. He was surprised at how stoically she took it all in. With a simple grimace and nod and a promise to accompany him back to the Burrow later that morning, she continued to pace, brooding to herself, despite Hermione's best efforts to have her come with them to the Great Hall. However unhappy it made him Ron had no choice but to leave Ginny to herself, though nowadays she seemed to prefer it that way.

Breakfast in the Great Hall began, at least, as a common affair. Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry, Hermione and Ron slumped into the huge room round half past six, and moved to the front to eat together at the large teacher's table. All felt the strange emptiness the huge, otherwise deserted room carried when not full of the rest of Hogwarts inhabitants; even though they were fewer this year than ever before.

Not long after they had finished eating however, hundreds of students began making their ways through the great double doors with a great cacophony of sleepy voices and shuffling feet; all somehow managing to find their ways to their usual seats.

Harry Ron and Hermione quickly moved down to their normal spots at the Gryffindor table, each deciding that though they had already eaten, they wanted to be there when the morning edition of the Daily Prophet arrived.

Teachers filed in the side doors and sat down; none curious as to why Dumbledore and Lupin were there before them with empty breakfast platters considering that the evening prior, the Headmaster had woken and informed them all on what had just happened at the Ministry. However, although they had been given a whole night to think on it, the professors still passed edgy looks between them, and kept shooting quick glances toward the ceiling as if willing the owl post faster with the morning paper.

They hadn't long to wait.

With a blustery rush and the sudden sounds of hooting and whipping wings, the owl post arrived in the Great Hall. The wide open space above and toward the huge sky-like ceiling was filled with multicoloured birds, and each long house table, already groaning under the weight of food, soon bore letter scrolls, packages from home, and morning editions of the news.

With grimaces, the teachers and staff at Hogwarts snatched their copies of the Prophet and began at once to read, all readying themselves for the inevitable upset of fearful voices they were sure would soon begin.

For a few blissful moments, the familiar crinkling and crackling of unrolling newspapers, letters, and ripped packages, and the easy rumbling of voices were the only sounds heard round the Great Hall. Too soon though, the relative comfort of the morning was replaced with sudden outbursts of shock. Voices erupted in fear, and bodies twitched in their seats, turning to others for confirmation of what they'd just read. Amidst the fearful disorder, conspiratorial whispering over the article turned to accusing stares, aimed mainly at Dumbledore, and some at Harry.

The noise became almost deafening within only a few moments time and looking on, Dumbledore quickly decided that if not taken care of at once, the Great Hall might soon turn into one great upheaval. He sighed heavily and stood with arms outstretched.

"SILENCE! Silence, all of you!" he bellowed, though not unkindly.

With his commanding presence Dumbledore was able rather quickly to bring the Great Hall to a relatively hushed state.

"I realise what you are all reading and discussing amongst yourselves must come as quite a shock, though I must assure you it is quite true. Voldemort is back, and has been for some time now."

Frightful cries erupted again. Some even visibly shook.

"Having said that," Dumbledore spoke again, raising his voice above the din, "I also want to assure you that within the walls of this school and on these grounds, you are perfectly safe. You are in fact, better protected here than you might be anywhere else. "

The Headmaster paused then, thinking to himself how absurd it was to believe any speech he might deliver would put to rest fears that were now very real; ones that had been pounded into the students before him for most, if not all of their young lives. The story of Voldemort's rise to power, and his defeat by an otherwise normal baby boy had for many throughout the long years since, turned into the stuff of legend. How many of these children had, through years of no other news, come to believe the story of Voldemort and Harry Potter to be a finished one? The shock on their systems, and surely on those all across the wizarding world who, at this same moment, were now having to face hard truth must be devastating. What chaos must be erupting right now outside the protective walls of Hogwarts? What repercussions from this new shock might he, Harry and the school now expect to face? The harsh reality, Dumbledore knew, was that they had no way to predict what was coming. The inevitable waves of panic and accusation would no doubt soon swell up to roll over them, and they could only hope amidst it all to tread high above the tide and continue breathing.

For Dumbledore though, the worst part over all was having to look out into the throng of students before him and see the face that, even when not actively trying, he noticed above all others. Harry Potter would endure as much criticism and personal attacks as he, Dumbledore, would. Even now, having not yet read what the Daily Prophet had to imply concerning them, he saw distrust darkening the gazes of many students.

The Headmaster continued speaking with a distinctly weary sigh. "I understand that many out there would wish to place blame and suspicion upon myself, and upon the one amongst you who has for his entire life been fighting against the dark lord. Accusations might soon arise concerning the allegiance of some that sit before you here today. I won't insult your intelligence by pointing out that it should now be obvious you were told the absolute truth this entire time on Voldemort's recent actions, and on his return. However, should certain loyalties still be in doubt, I ask you all to think back. Think hard on your years here, and ask yourselves if the ones you question have EVER shown any reason for you to be suspicious of their intentions, or of their hatred of the dark arts."

Upon hearing Dumbledore's words some hung their heads in shame, while others continued to peer still a bit suspiciously at either the Headmaster or Harry. Dumbledore though had said all he intended to say that morning, and surrounded on all sides by the approving nods of his teachers, he lowered himself back into his seat.

Most of the students continued to stare at each other in stunned silence. Harry understood the feeling; it was one he'd come to know well. Thick shock and overloads of information must even now be smothering their systems like some sort of thick blanket. Eventually though, the fear would begin spreading thinner until, mercifully or not, it became a thin membrane of what would always remain a haunting apprehension; one so familiar to Harry himself that it seemed part of his very body.

Despite himself, Harry began to feel strangely displaced by the awareness now shared with the rest of Hogwarts. For too long, the nightmare of Voldemort's return had been only his, Ron's and Hermione's to bear; one around which they had built a strong bond. However, with the school's blinders finally removed, it now felt as if a few hundred had expanded their fortress against the world.

Harry grabbed onto Hermione's hand; the overwhelming urge to hold something dear and familiar close to him overshadowing even the stares of the students surrounding him.

Hermione gazed up at him, and somehow, Harry knew she understood exactly how he felt without needing to convey it. It was a powerful comfort.

"Mind how quiet it's got," Ron sombrely whispered from across the table. "It's downright eerie."

However, as news this horrifying simply could not be kept inside to brood upon, the silence was not to last. The beginnings of hushed murmuring soon turned into conversations which, if not for the palpable heaviness of anxiety throughout every word, might've sounded quite common and familiar.

Further down the table, a still mute, terrified Lavender hopped up and moved down toward Ron, shoving herself in the seat between him and Colin and grabbing onto his hand. Ginny, who had been seated beside her, looked on with an almost bitter expression on her face. She glanced down at the plate of eggs she had been aimlessly stabbing at ever since breakfast began, but still could not manage to bring a single bite to her mouth.

Wonderful news, the Minister's death... thought Ginny caustically. And now Umbridge the Bitch is head of the Ministry... Smashing. Every day since Bill's death had seemed to bring about a fresh wave of misery.

On a whim, she turned her head and glanced toward the part of the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy usually sat. He was there, as usual, though he had a look on his face that showed distinct lack of surprise and quite a bit of revulsion at the news he had just read. It appeared he was quite obviously lost in thought, as unbeknownst to him, he continued over and over to rub his forearm.

Ginny was torn. No matter how much she wanted to distrust him, to hate him with every fibre of her being, she simply didn't. There was too much of a nagging something in his eyes, a something that spoke of an authenticity she didn't want to believe in. Might he have actually turned away from his father's beliefs? Had he pushed her away from him because he knew what was coming? Along with everything else, it was too much to think on, and a something that seemed trifling in the face of what was now happening.

Yet, even in the middle of it all she still felt drawn to him, and had the feeling he felt the same about her.

She had quite forgotten where she had been looking since her thoughts had overtaken her once again, and as she drifted back to reality, found her eyes locked with a pair of steel grey ones across the room. Ones that seemed equally lost and lonely, with a gaze that wished to draw her in.

Damn. She flushed bright red and acted as if she had been staring at something else before quickly turning away.

At the Slytherin table, sitting a bit removed from everyone else in his house, Draco flinched back almost painfully.

Hermione, sitting beside Harry and across from Ron, realised with a start that she had not even glanced at the Daily Prophet amidst the uproar, and quickly unrolled the newspaper and smoothed it flat, looking daggers at the headline gracing the front page.

Beside Lavender, Colin Creevey leaned toward them.

"Mind if I look on?" he said with a disarming look. "Seems to be a lot of excitement going round about it."

The three looked at each other until Ron spoke up. "Uh, normally it'd be fine Colin, but… today we sort of need to discuss a few things in private."

I'll give it over to you moment we're through…" Hermione said, glancing apologetically at him. "You understand, right?"

Strangely, something bordering on relief washed over Colin's face though he covered quickly. "Oh of…of course. No worries, then."

He leaned away and turned back to his omelette and a conversation with a very fidgety Parvarti Patil, who kept asking him what he thought would happen next. Although Ron and Hermione gave it not a second thought and turned away, Harry continued to watch him closely.

"Oh..." Lavender looked at Ron and spoke quietly, sounding a bit wounded. "I guess you'll be needing me to move as well."

"Only for a bit," answered Ron quickly. He peered anxiously at her. "Please understand Lav... There's some things we have to discuss privately, the three of us."

She sighed. "I know, but... once you're through might I come back over?"

Ron widened his eyes at her. " 'Course you can! I want you to."

This seemed to hearten her a bit, and she got up to move back down to her seat near Ginny.

Once Lavender had gone, Hermione opened her mouth to read the Prophet's headlines aloud, but paused as she saw Harry leaning forward on his elbows, peering distrustfully at Colin.

Ron frowned at him. "What's up?"

Harry shook his head darkly, still peering at Colin, although for his part Creevey didn't seem to notice.

"Something's not right with him," said Harry quietly.

"How'd you mean?" Ron whispered. "Something's been not right with him ever since Dennis, mate."

"No, it's something else," Harry replied a bit impatiently. "Something I can't put my finger on..."

Hermione sighed and leaned toward him. "Harry, if this is about what happened with him and I in the hall, he's already apologised for it."

"It's not…"

"What?" Ron jerked a bit in surprise. "What happened in the hall with you two? What'd he do?"

Hermione bit her lip and whispered. "He... grabbed my arms a bit too tight, but he didn't really mean anything by..."

"WHAT?" Ron snapped, beginning to rise a bit from his seat and tower over Colin. "When did... I'll murder the little berk..."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm and she reached across the table to grab his arm. "No you won't, Ron! Harry's already done him enough without you adding to it!"

"Good, he's had his turn then, hasn't he!?" Ron growled as he eyed Colin malevolently. "Now it's mine."

Harry grabbed Ron's arm as well and shook his head. "He won't do it again. But that wasn't what I meant… It's just… something about him feels wrong… a familiar sort of wrong."

Hermione peered concerned at him, but Ron, though still angry, looked unconvinced.

"You don't think it's simply because he's been so choked over losing his brother? I've been cracked over Bill's death, and he wasn't even my only brother like Dennis was with Colin, was he?"

Harry frowned. "No... I guess he wasn't."

Hermione watched Colin thoughtfully for a moment as he absently picked at his food. "We should give him the benefit of the doubt for now, I think. He has been through a lot... Anyway, let's read. I'm dying to see what lies Umbridge had the Prophet mix with the truth."

Harry and Ron nodded; Harry forcing the still niggling sensation of something amiss to the back of his mind as Hermione smoothed out the paper once more and began to read.

"Upset my arse," growled Ron angrily. "…Likely threw a bloody party once he was dead..."

"Ron, let me finish." Hermione said, continuing on with the article.

"Reached for her wand, did she!?" Ron irately interrupted once again. "Only to help I'm sure..."

"You think?" Ron growled sarcastically. "Bloody worthless git..."

Hermione made a sound like a growling cat. "If you don't stop cutting in I'll hex you! Let me finish!"

"Well it's just too damn much!" Ron hissed furiously through clenched teeth. "Umbridge acting as if she gives an elf's arse whether Fudge lived or died! And being frightened of Voldemort as if they aren't on the same side... it's flippin' horseshit!"

"Right mate," replied Harry. "But I bloody well want to hear the rest, don't you?"

Ron finally conceded although quite grumpily, and Hermione, giving him one last warning glance, continued on.

Grimacing, Hermione plowed on.

Hermione growled ominously as she re-rolled the newspaper. "The old hag..."

Ron shoved a few bangers into his mouth, followed them with a long swig of pumpkin juice, and attempted to speak. "Well a'leas she din' name names..."

"She didn't have to," answered Harry, angrily buttering a scone to nothing but crumbs. "She all but scrawled it in herself between every line."

Ron shook his head and swallowed with effort. "Could've been talking about anyone, mate. We know who she meant, but she was pretty vague, wasn't she?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Vague? There's not a wizard or witch who doesn't know how Fudge felt about Professor Dumbledore! Who did he hate and blame for most anything he could? Who, as Umbridge suggested, would be one of a very few powerful enough to break anti-apparition wards? Who was dismissed as Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, giving him motive and access to the inner workings of the Ministry? Dumbledore! And on where and who, before the obvious recent activities, has Voldemort seemed to focus the most when attacking? Hogwarts and Harry, leading back to Dumbledore!"

"She's making as if his whole attitude toward the dark arts is a lie," said Harry. "As if Dumbledore actually works for Voldemort and has been giving him access all along to attack Hogwarts."

" 'We must be on guard for ones who have in the past been conveniently near during dark attacks," quoted Hermione, seething with rage. 'Ones whose actions might, under a clearer light, now be deemed as questionable.' "

Ron thumped a fist on the table and gazed at Harry. "That describes you too, mate."

" 'Course it does," shot Harry resentfully. "Just look round at how everyone keeps glancing over at me... as if they think now I'm some sort of bastarding disciple for Voldemort."

"…'Ones who have evaded detection by being clever enough to appear to fight against him, while perhaps in reality, even aiding him,' " Hermione read again, her breath hitching irately. She slapped the paper down. "I simply can't fathom anyone could believe such a great load of RUBBISH!"

"Doesn't take much in the state they're in, I suppose," Harry stated flatly. "Get the public in a panic and they'll start accusing anyone."

"But you and Dumbledore were the ones trying hardest to warn everyone he was back!" exclaimed Ron.

"Which makes them look even more suspicious if you see it the way Umbridge wants you to," fumed Hermione tartly. "I mean, what better way for Harry and Professor Dumbledore to throw everyone off their trail while secretly 'aiding Voldemort', than to act as if they're the ones who hate him most? It's what she's implied anyway."

Ron mused for a few moments while looking over Dumbledore's way, where the Headmaster sat calmly conversing with McGonnagol.

"Gods, she's a bitch," he said shortly.

Hermione turned wide eyes to him. "What!?"

"Umbridge," said Ron. "What, you don't agree?"

"Oh her…"

"Just now coming to that conclusion, are you?" Harry shot sarcastically at Ron. Covert gazes continued to flicker past and then settle back on him at every glance he made about the room, the maddening frequency of which was beginning to set his nerves on edge.

"No, 'course not," Ron bristled, eyeing him. "You're in a corking mood."

"Oh, well shouldn't I be now everyone in school thinks I snog Voldemort's arse?" Harry seethed acidly. "How in the hell do I get stuck being the one who has to fight him, and being the one everyone suspects is in league with him? What in the hell are they thinking!?"

"Exactly what Umbridge wants them to," Hermione broke in reasonably. "But Harry, Ron and I are with you no matter what anyone else thinks. You know that. Don't take it out on us."

Harry dropped his gaze and stood, sighing. "I'm…sorry, really... I'm just tired of... I've got to get out of here for a while."

Hermione looked up at him with concern and touched his hand. "Harry?"

"I'm fine..." He replied irritably. "Just need to get away from all the stares. I'll see you two later."

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

It was funny how, since they had discovered the Room of Requirement two years ago, Harry found he required it more and more. However, since for the past few months the room been adjusting to suit his mood, it now more resembled an area for bashing things senseless than for practising dark counter-spells.

How the place knew exactly what you needed was still a mystery, though each time Harry stepped into it and found a large area filled with punching bags, weapons, and human shaped targets; some charmed to fight back, he couldn't bring himself to try figuring it out.

It felt good to let out some of his aggressions; to, in his mind, replace the faceless hanging sandbags with visages of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and either practice running them through with the sword, blasting them with wandless spells, or physically beating the sod from them.

By the time noon had rolled round, the room had already needed to replace all fifteen targets, some twice; a few of which were lying in smoky heaps of sand and burlap, having been mutilated by one or another particularly nasty spell.

Surrounded on all sides by mock carnage, Harry stood in the middle of the room panting and swiping at his brow; his button down shirt now off and tied loosely round his waist, and one hand still gripping the handle of a sword. He was just about to begin again, staring malevolently at a few fake opponents who had again begun raising swords or sandbag arms as if to throw out new spells, when the door to the room opened, and all activity stopped.

Draco Malfoy sauntered in with an air of general entitlement and looking round, raised a jeering eyebrow at the mess.

Harry snarled. In his rush to let loose his frustrations, he had forgot to seal it.

"Ah hell…" he growled savagely as he tossed his sword to the floor.

Malfoy crossed his arms and leaned casually against the far wall. "Manners Potter. Got some anger issues, have you? What'd these poor blokes ever do to you?"

"What the hell do you want?" replied Harry viciously. "In case it got past you, the room's occupied at the moment. You'll just have to be a good little ferret and wait your turn. And aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"It's lunch Scarhead, get a watch," sneered Malfoy. "And I 'required' a conversation with you believe it or not. Nice of you not to seal the door."

Harry kicked at a smouldering pile of sand and muttered a nasty expletive. Malfoy blew a low taunting whistle.

"You seem irritated."

"Up yours," Harry snarled again in a flat voice. "Enough with the clever banter. Just get on with it."

Malfoy regarded him in a self-satisfied manner and shoved his hands into his pockets. However, although he was trying to appear cool, Harry could see as Draco shifted from one foot to the other that whatever it was he wanted to talk with him about was anything but trivial.

Finally, he spoke. "You saw the paper."

Harry started. A look of hostile realisation suddenly dawned on his face.

"If you're here to slag off me being Voldemort's number one fan you can get out of it."

Malfoy scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Lighten up Potter, for god's sake. Not everyone round here is soft in the head."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "So you don't believe the Prophet…"

" 'Course not. Hell, you're not the type, are you? Good Gryffindor that you are."

Harry glowered at him. "Then what is it…"

Again Malfoy hesitated before speaking, as if he was grappling hard with something in his mind. He jammed his hands even deeper into his pockets and exhaled.

"He's building an army you know."

A derisive snort followed. "No shit, Sherlock…"

"I don't want to join."

In the quick silence that fell the two young men stood eyeing one another, hints of mistrust playing over both of their features.

For his part, Harry was sceptical. Malfoy's contempt for the dark mark that Lucius had forced on his arm had made it rather obvious the thought of joining Voldemort's ranks did not particularly appeal to him, though the reason behind it was questionable at best. However, Harry couldn't fathom why he was sharing his change of heart with him. He couldn't think of two people who disliked each other more, with the obvious exception of Malfoy and Ron.

"Why tell me…" Harry finally asked, watching him closely.

Malfoy set his mouth in a thin, annoyed line. "Skiving Salazar, Potter… as if you don't know you're head of the moral army round here."

"You mean Dumbledore," replied Harry flatly. "I'm just the mascot…"

"And future destroyer of all things mean and evil, epitome of righteousness, saviour of the moral and upright, etcetera, ad nauseum." Malfoy recited drolly. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out if you're not on one side you're on the other… This is me telling you I've chosen this one, god help me."

Harry smiled humourlessly. "And here I always took you for a middle-grounder… You know, the pansies who'd rather wait to see who wins?"

Malfoy glared hard at him. Potter's words hit a bit too close to home and he knew it. However, situations had changed.

"There is no 'middle ground' for me, Scarhead," he shot back acidly. "By now both Voldemort and Lucius know I don't plan to join them. Moment I step foot from these grounds I'm done for. I don't have a choice."

"So you only want to join us because Voldemort wants you dead, and you'll be defenceless if you don't, is that it?" Harry sneered scornfully. "Knew it had to be something like that."

Malfoy flushed an angry red. "What'd you care why I want to join dickhead?! It's not enough I want to, for god's sake!?"

"No it's not!" barked Harry. "How do we know moment you're needed you won't have slithered away unnoticed like some friggin' coward!?"

"I'm no coward," Malfoy stated in a hard, even voice.

"How can we be sure you won't change sides should the fight start going in Voldemort's favour!?"

"Haven't I proved yet I hate him!? Gods, what else do I have to do…"

"You don't believe in anything Malfoy," Harry interjected harshly. "Trying to save your own bloody arse isn't reason enough to keep you loyal, you understand? We couldn't trust you because you don't believe in any of this…"

"There's one thing I do believe in."

Harry paused suddenly, observing him, though the look on his face was one of wry doubt. He crossed his arms over his chest and silently waited.

Draco worked his jaw. His insides raged with indecision. Malfoy's aren't noble bleeding hearts; Malfoy's aren't weak do-gooders; Malfoy's don't let themselves become susceptible to emotion; Malfoy's don't feel for others, feelings make one weak. Malfoy's are cold, hard and impenetrable… Yet, he had been penetrated, hadn't he? And in the place he would have least suspected; one he had thought long dead...

"I believe in Ginny," he heaved out finally. "I believe in how I feel for her."

Harry stood as motionless as a stone wall, staring at him. In seven years of knowing the ferret he had never quite heard him speak the way he was; as if something or someone had broken past that hard, thick barrier and actually affected him. He couldn't help feeling sceptical, knowing that any moment the real Malfoy might suddenly emerge and take the mickey out of him for believing in sentimental rot. It left him feeling unnerved and not sure how to respond, though he was certain of one thing.

Even if Malfoy did care for Ginny how he said, it did not make him trustworthy.

"So you like Ginny," Harry shrugged. "Doesn't mean you suddenly believe in what we're fighting for…"

"Oh for god's sake, Potter!" Malfoy suddenly exclaimed angrily; the cool façade gone. "It's the best you'll get from me! I'm not some naïve freedom fighting do-gooder! I don't believe fighting for the 'right' side will suddenly result in some pansy-peaceful utopia world or any of that shit! I didn't grow up that way; no one ever worshipped me or plastered the word 'hero' across my forehead, alright!?… Only thing I know is this: Ginny taught me what it is to actually care for someone. I've never had that before. I never thought it was real. So when I say I believe in her, I DO. And if SHE feels that strongly about your cause or whatever the bloody hell it is, then I've got to think there's something to it."

Harry remained stoic, but something inside him, a something that before he might have promptly dismissed as impossible, shifted as he studied him. He still couldn't lump the arrogant little berk, but something told him he was being honest.

"Alright then… talk to Dumbledore. Let him know you've made up your mind."

Draco nodded curtly to him and turned to leave, but after pausing Harry called to him once more before he closed the door behind him.

"Oy, Draco…"

He glanced back at Harry, whose expression had turned hard as stone.

"I find you're flamming me, I'll pitch your arse to Voldemort myself."

Malfoy chuckled and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

As he stared after him though, Harry's expression remained deadly serious.

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

Dumbledore sat behind his desk with fingers steepled contemplatively beneath his long hook nose, and as if drawing out Malfoy's very thoughts, aimed a hard penetrating stare at the blonde Slytherin before him.

Despite knowing he had told the full truth to the Headmaster, Malfoy still felt unnerved by his sharp gaze. Surely Dumbledore knew that, had Lucius and Voldemort not made it impossible for him to do so, Draco's first instinct would have been to avoid the entire war. He must know joining his and Potter's side would afford Malfoy with protection. Did the Headmaster believe him when he said he wanted to join? If so, would he trust him? Did he think him a coward? Perhaps he did... But damn if Draco wasn't put in Slytherin for a reason. The term 'coward' was played a bit fast and loose as far as he was concerned. It was a tag Gryffindor arseholes had placed on their house; Gryffindor's who were too 'brave' and 'pure' to be cunning; who stupidly ran toward the fight rather than trying to think their way out first; who had absolutely no instinct for self-preservation… the thick-headed mongs.

Yet, here he was about to join them. Well…not completely by choice. What was the alternative? If he didn't join Dumbledore's and Potter's side, he would die by Voldemort's own hand. If he ran, he would be hunted down and killed. Moreover, if neither of those two did the job, the war would most likely get him. No matter how he swung it, he was doomed. Might as well go out with a bang…

Dumbledore blinked and leaned back more casually before speaking in his usual quiet rumbling voice.

"Your father has always believed Voldemort to possess the right beliefs when it comes to the wizarding race and those who are fit to belong in it… You yourself have, on numerous past occasions, seemed to be of the same opinion. You'll understand then, won't you, the reason I really must ask what has so drastically changed your mind."

Malfoy paused and fingered the edge of his robes to put off answering straight away. Without realising it, he pulled himself up more erect in his chair and studied his hands, his brain working overtime to formulate an acceptable answer.

"I've never had a choice other than to think how Lucius did. Growing up I learned bloody fast to agree with him… it was either that or have the sodding hell beaten out of me. Few days without food or water never hurt my belief system either." There was no way to disguise the bitterness in his voice, a fact Dumbledore did not overlook.

Malfoy gave an odd, hollow sort of laugh as he continued. "Doesn't matter a shit what I think now though, does it? There's no getting out of it; I'm dead no matter what I believe. Voldemort and Lucius have probably thrown a bloody party by now planning out exactly how to do me in. Might as well die for a noble cause as any, aye?"

Dumbledore hummed his agreement as he studied him, a shrewd gleam in his eyes. "Then you do think the war to be a good cause…"

"Not bloody likely to change much, but everyone's got the right to live, I reckon," Malfoy shrugged noncommittally. "Being powerful shouldn't give one the right to decide who should exist and who shouldn't; although by Lucius' standards, along with being pure-blooded it's the means by which everyone is measured."

"At one time it was the means by which you measured others as well," stated Dumbledore matter-of-factly, his fingers now clasped before him. "That the pure-blooded are smarter, more capable…and thus more powerful…"

Malfoy eyed him warily. The Headmaster seemed determined to draw out his own innermost workings and spread them before him like some sort of map to his mind. It must be obvious to him that Draco's thoughts and feelings would not somehow change overnight. He might be old and given to eccentrics, but there was no bullshitting Albus Dumbledore.

Draco paused and leaned back in his chair, observing the Headmaster in a calculating way. "I suppose I haven't changed much on how I view others."

Dumbledore nodded and leaned back in his chintz armchair as well, looking by all accounts comfortable and fully knowledgeable of all that surrounded him.

"I am aware," he answered simply.

For a few moments the two sat frankly observing one another. The only noises in the office were the slow whirring and tinking of unknown silver objects lying here and there on their highly polished wooden tables, the bogus snoring of portraits, and the clicking of Fawkes' beak as he perched serenely on his stand near the winding staircase leading to the second floor of the office, preening himself. The Headmaster contented himself with gazing admiringly at the bird for a while and left Malfoy to his own thoughts.

Only a few minutes passed, but Draco had never been known for his patience. Finally, he could no longer take the silence. Damn Dumbledore for being so bloody steady…

"Are you going to let me in or not!?" he finally blurted out, angrily.

Dumbledore turned his serene gaze back to him as if he had been waiting all along for the other to speak. "Tell me… why did you turn from your father's beliefs?"

Draco blinked at him, somewhat befuddled at the Headmaster's compulsion to know things he considered frankly unnecessary. It was irritating as hell. "I… don't know. I just felt differently… What the hell does it matter!? Surely you could use all the help you can get, what with…"

"It would have been much easier for you to simply agree with him, would it have not?" The Headmaster interjected in mildly interested tone. "I realise now you must feel you have no choice but to join us to be afforded some sort of protection, but all could have been simply avoided by choosing Voldemort's side."

The mere mention of his joining with the dark lord made Malfoy's skin crawl. He answered in a voice that managed to sound both fierce and nauseated.

"I could never join him."

"And your inheritance? You must have no doubts you'll lose it… "

"I've never quite been up to scratch as a Malfoy," growled Draco resentfully. "He would've found some other way to take it from me…"

"Your entire family will disown you," Dumbledore pointed out objectively. "Your name will be stricken from their records much like Sirius Black's was. Many of the remaining purebloods agree with Voldemort's views. You'll be alone…"

"I've always been alone!" snapped Malfoy bluntly, becoming increasingly irritated.

"Think of the power," Dumbledore insisted almost conversationally. "The acclaim you would receive as the son of Voldemort's second in command. He would surely set you high in his ranks…"

"I don't give a damn about his ranks!" Malfoy shouted angrily, his thoughts now completely confounded. "You think my life's ambition is to be significant to Voldemort!?"

"He is powerful," said Dumbledore. "He has many admirers, many followers,… many who would die to see his vision of a 'pure' world played out…"

"I would die to see it brought down!" Malfoy finally bellowed, enraged. He stood rigidly to his feet; his face flushed and his hands curled into tight fists. "He's a twisted bastard who thinks he should be allowed to decide who lives or dies like some sort of god! He kills people for pleasure! He killed Ginny's brother just to torture Potter for Merlin's sake! Just what the hell sort of bastard do you think I am!? Yeah, I might think there are some who are better bred than others but I'd never want to rid the world of the 'rest' like that sick son of a bitch!"

Draco stood in front of Dumbledore's desk heaving furiously, his hands clenched tight, his blonde hair uncharacteristically wild and out of place, and the now dreadful, icy feeling that he had just signed his own death warrant. He must be very different from what the Headmaster was looking for, he knew. He was no believer in the belief that everyone was 'born equal'. But at least for once in his life, he had been totally honest.

The Headmaster did not move an inch, but simply gazed at the young man before him, a very faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"You may join."

The acceptance dawned slowly on Malfoy, and his hard expression and rigid stance soon gave way to slumped surprise.

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

Around eight o'clock that evening Ron and Ginny, having just returned from visiting the Burrow, made their ways purposefully down Hogwarts' dim hallways and headed straight for the Head boy and girl's quarters.

Neither were in a mood to deal with a certain gormless knight, although as usual, Sir Cadogen sat waiting for them in full armour astride his trusty steed; this time with a long jousting spear in hand.

"Halt!"

"God's… Ron, just curse him," growled Ginny moodily.

"I shall NOT be cursed, knave!" yelled Sir Cadogen in a small voice made tinny by the visor over his face. "I am sworn to protect this land…"

Ron did not hesitate, but raised his wand. "Mutus!"

The tiny knight continued to gesticulate wildly, but suddenly, no sound made its way from his portrait. He stopped flailing and lowered his spear in defeat, allowing Ron to knock on the picture's wood frame.

A masculine voice sounded out the password and then called out to them.

"It’s open."

Though Ginny and Ron pulled open the portrait and stepped inside, letting it bang shut behind them, Cadogen did not move an inch. He continued to sit eerily quiet upon his horse in the painting of the green open field; straining forward as if preparing to eavesdrop.

Ron and Ginny walked in to find Harry, sans glasses, shirt, and shoes, clad only in a pair of loose worn jeans, and his hair damp from a recent shower, lying on their common room couch with his head in Hermione's lap. She was already in her pyjamas, and sat with her legs folded under her, scraping her fingernails soothingly along his scalp from his forehead back, making his hair stand on end even more wildly than usual.

It quickly became obvious to Ron and Ginny they were intruding on a private moment.

"Oh…" Ginny murmured quietly, blushing.

Ron turned his head a bit out of courtesy. "Sorry mates… just wanted to let you know we're back… We'll see you at classes tomorrow though, I reckon."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry beat her to it.

"What?… No, don't be stupid. Come sit down. Besides, I've got things to tell you."

With a grunt he raised his long form from his reclining position on the couch and sat up, casting his arm about Hermione and scooting closer to her to make room.

Immediately at ease, Ron dropped onto the end of the couch leaving room for Ginny in the middle, though she opted to sit in an armchair nearest the fire and keep her eyes fixed anywhere but on Harry. Ron and Hermione might be used to seeing a half-naked Harry Potter, but Ginny most certainly was not. She felt a distinct fluttering in her stomach and knew that, were she to look at him, she would blush three shades of the deepest red. After all, one did not have to be in love with a wizard to appreciate his body, did they?

And despite her best efforts, this thought alone made her flush.

"You saw Percy, then?" asked Hermione.

Ron scowled and leaned forward on his knees to regard her. "Yeah, we saw him. Worthless git… D'you know he acted as if he'd suspected for a while Voldemort was back, but didn’t speak up so as not to embarrass the Minister!? Bloody codswallop!… Didn't even act half sorry he'd turned his back on the family for so long."

Harry frowned. "What about your mum and dad?"

"They're just glad he's decided to come back," Ginny replied, staring resolutely at Hermione as she spoke. "They've already lost Bill, I don't suppose now they want to disown Percy, though he is a lying wart. Anyway, at least he’s finally owned up to the fact Dumbledore and Harry were telling the truth all along."

Harry raised one eyebrow. "Has he…"

Ron nodded. "Even apologised in a half-arsed sort of way. I suppose it's the best we can expect of him; he's always been a fat-headed prick, hasn't he?"

Wisely, neither Harry nor Hermione answered, though Ginny nodded her head in a sharp, agreeable way.

After a few moments, Hermione cleared her throat and shot a concerned look through her lashes at Ginny before speaking.

"Well… Harry's got news."

Harry looked at her.

"Malfoy," Hermione mouthed to him, with raised eyebrows.

Ginny saw her and started, sitting up ramrod straight. "What about him?"

Harry grimaced a bit reproachfully at Hermione’s timing, but decided the truth would be out eventually. He sighed. "He's decided to join us."

"What!?" Ron's jaw dropped open in astonishment. "You're having us on…"

"Nope." Harry shook his head. "He burst in on me this afternoon while I was in the Room of Requirement… Told me he'd made up his mind and decided to join our side."

Ron watched him incredulously. "And you believe him?"

Harry paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. "I'm still a bit leery. He seemed genuine, but that doesn't mean a hell of a lot, does it? I sent him to talk to Dumbledore."

"I never took him for the sort who might actually care about something," said Ron, rubbing at his ears as if not sure what he had just heard was real.

"Remember when his father gave him the dark mark how he reacted, though?" Hermione pointed out. "He wasn't exactly chuffed with it, was he? Maybe there was a reason for it…"

Ron snorted bitterly. " ‘Course there was. He realised now he wouldn't be able to run and hide anymore."

"Ron, you don't know that for certain," she admonished him. "Maybe he's got other reasons for wanting to join… I mean along with the protection he'll get from it…"

"I figured that was one reason," Harry added snidely.

"Along with it," Hermione emphasised sternly, eyeing Harry and Ron, "Maybe he actually does hate what Voldemort stands for. Maybe there's more to him than what we thought."

Ginny had not spoken a word during the entire following conversation and, sparing a glance over at her, Hermione saw her staring troubled into the fire, flame shadows flickering across her face. She frowned. She wondered how this latest news might affect Ginny's relationship with Malfoy, if indeed there was one left to affect.

Ginny suddenly stood and looked at the three, now not paying any mind whatsoever to the fact that Harry still sat there clad in only a pair of worn jeans.

"Well, I'm off… Got loads of classwork to catch up on, I'm sure. Michelle Garroty promised she'd take notes…"

With no more explanation she rushed toward the portrait door and yanked it open leaving as unexpectedly as she'd come in.

Hermione turned Ron's way and saw his whole body tensing; his face flushing an angry red.

"Ron…" she began in a warning voice.

"She's not gone off to study," he forced out through gritted teeth. "She's gone to find the damn ferret…"

Harry sighed. "We know."

"And it's all the same to you, isn't it!?" Ron exclaimed, flashing Harry an impatient glare. "Nevermind someone you've looked on as a sister for seven years is out to do herself in…trusting her heart to a no good piece of shit like Malfoy…"

"We can't control what she does, Ron!" Harry shouted back. "She's too old for you or me to go about trying to tell her who she can or can't love!"

Ron narrowed his eyes dangerously. "She does NOT love him."

Hermione stood, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "Whatever it is she feels, it's none of your business; either of you. And if Malfoy's turning out to actually care for what we're fighting for, maybe he's not such a git after all. Anyway, Harry's right, Ron. You can't control Ginny."

Ron exploded. "She's my sister for Godric's sake! What would you have me do, lie back and watch her fall for some wizard I KNOW in the end will hurt her!? What kind of brother would I be to do that!?"

"A normal one," said Hermione calmly. "You've told her how you feel, Ron. Now you've got to hope she takes to mind what you've said. And if she doesn't…"

"She'll have her heart smashed to bits," Ron blurted violently. "And I'll be forced to beat the shit out of the one who did it to her…"

"You'll be there to pick up the pieces, Ron," Harry said sagely, "and beat the shit out of him. It's what a brother does."

Ron looked over at him, and his face grew a bit less hard. "No offence mate, really. But how would you know what a brother does?"

Harry eyed him, unoffended. "You taught me.. didn't you?"

Ron stared at him, dumbfounded. He had never thought in his whole time of knowing him, that he had the stuff to teach Harry Potter anything. And yet, Harry sat there staring guilelessly at him, as if he honestly thought of Ron as his brother. He supposed he and the rest of the Weasley clan really had been the closest thing to a family Harry had ever experienced, but he had never really thought Harry truly felt himself one of them.

Ron felt as if some warm, genuine feeling had just trickled into him and gone down to pool in the pit of his stomach. He leaned forward on his knees and raked a hand through his bright red hair.

"Wow mate,… I.. never really thought you felt… I mean, I'm glad! I just.. I mean mum and dad already think of you as their seventh son… and Fred and George of course.. wouldn’t take the mickey from you if they didn’t.. and well, I.. of course, I've always… um.. always thought of you…like… I mean as part of our… as my…"

After a few moments of agonised floundering, Harry decided to spare Ron the pain of trying to voice his emotions.

Truth be told, it was rapidly turning painful for him as well.

"Merlin Ron, don't start getting all girlie on me. Gods, I couldn't take it."

After a moment of surprised silence, Ron visibly relaxed and laughed, sounding relieved. "I'm not half the woman you are, Potter. No use in denying it, I've seen your other wardrobe. You know, the one you keep back for special occasions?"

Harry scowled at him and reached over to punch him in the arm, which started a scuffle. Soon both were thrashing about on the floor, trading punches and guffawing aloud.

Hermione's tearful, fond expression quickly faded to one of annoyance.

"Ron!" she shouted exasperatedly, her arms crossed. "Harry, must you thrash about on the floor like a couple of bloody idiots!?… Stop! You're going to break something!… Go outside to fight, will you!?… Merlin, I swear you two aren't any better behaved than children! …"

Harry found it unbearably cute when she scolded like a mother hen. He grabbed her mid-rant about the waist and forced her down to the floor with them; both he and Ron relentlessly tickling her ribs until she squealed and begged for mercy.

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

Ginny marched determinedly down the dusky stone hallways now lit with torches for the early evening, and with a clear destination in mind, headed toward the great oak double doors that served as entrance to the school. She had seen the expression on her brother's face as she had left Harry and Hermione's quarters, and held no illusions that she had fooled any of them. However, at this particular point, she could not bring herself to care. Too many thoughts and questions bombarded her mind; ones she had decided weeks ago were no longer relevant to her life to waste thinking on.

And yet, just when she had finally begun to file what she deemed 'the great mistake' back into the recesses of her mind; deciding to reopen it only to serve as warning against future bad decisions on dating; here she was, thinking on Draco Malfoy…again.

Angry with herself but still moving forward, she flung open the great doors and stomped out into the breezy, cool dimness of Scotland's early Spring evening. As she went along, it occurred to her that the previously stated fact was decidedly pissing her off.

She rounded the corner of the east wing of the building and saw ahead of her the distinct outline of six huge, staggered poles against the sky; three at each end of a field surrounded by high stadium seating that outlined the Quidditch pitch. It was deserted, thank Merlin.

Upon coming closer, she found she had been correct on where he would be hiding. The back half of a platinum blonde head and one raised knee peeked out from behind the largest of a clump of trees just outside the pitch. In one long-fingered elegant hand, Draco had plucked a very long blade of grass, and was twirling it lazily between his fingers.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. She was unsure why the sight of him sitting there so calmly annoyed her, but decided to draw courage from the aggravation and use it to fortify her nerves.

The fact she was shaking as she approached served to vex her even further. She stopped for a moment and took a deep calming breath before rounding the tree. Upon seeing him before her, leaning rather lazily against the trunk, she adopted a hostile stance.

Malfoy gazed up at her, his expression practised and blank. The only motion he made was to still the fingers twiddling the grass blade.

Ginny swiped her long hair behind her ear and placed her hands on her hips, huffing.

"Well."

Malfoy stared at her before subtly raising one eyebrow. "Well what…"

"You," Ginny said crisply. "Knew I'd find you here."

"Congratulations Red, you win the house cup."

"Don't get snarky with me," Ginny retorted. She glanced him over for a moment and then resentfully plopped down opposite him. "You know, it's funny. In the span of just a few hours, the most astounding changes can sneak you up. I never knew one's perspective could switch overnight."

Malfoy shut his eyes and tapped his head back against the trunk, his jaw rigidly set.

"Bloody sodding hell… Alright. Go on then Red, get it all out of your system. Nott's already wished he could nick his father's Muggle pistol to blow a hole in my head… More painful than a curse, he says." He laughed hollowly. "Actually believes by telling his father I'm 'defecting' he's going to be the one breaking the news to Lucius and Voldemort; as if they don't already know, the dumb prick. Fifth through seventh year Slytherin's side with him… They've all merrily wished me a one-way ticket to hell. Even Crabbe and Goyle won't speak to me… Gods, the day I'm actually craving their company…"

Ginny looked taken aback but stood her ground. "So you actually have joined us…"

Malfoy sneered at her in reply. "That hard to believe, is it?… I once thought at least you felt I had some decency in me."

"You aren't feeling sorry for yourself, are you?" Ginny scathingly replied. "Last I checked I was the one who'd lost a family member."

"I don't have any left to lose," Malfoy countered. "None who'll claim me, anyway. I suppose I should count myself lucky."

They stared at each other for a moment, at an impasse. Ginny felt herself falling into that cool grey gaze once again and decided immediately to snap herself out from it. She shook her head.

"Look, I didn't come out here to play 'who's got it worse' with you…"

"Why did you come out here, then…" Malfoy cut in bluntly, narrowing his eyes.

Ginny held his gaze, but soon found herself staring at the ground.

"I dunno, really… To see if it was true, I suppose."

Draco began twirling the grass blade between his fingers again. "It is."

"And to ask you why."

Abruptly, he stiffened and finally dropped the weed from his hand.

"Why…"

"Why did you decide to go against Voldemort?"

Draco growled aloud and balled his hands into tight fists. "Gods Red, you of ALL people should know I hate him!"

"I know!" Ginny answered sharply. "But with all the trouble it's causing you why didn't you just opt to run!?"

"I can't run. Voldemort has ways of finding you; especially when you've got his brand seared into your bloody arm." Malfoy shoved the sleeve of his jumper up his arm to show off the mark on his bicep, which for some time had been glowing and throbbing an angry red. "I join Dumbledore and Potter, at least I'm afforded with a bit of protection, however small. I join no one, I'm on my own. Might as well curse myself to death and call an end to it."

Ginny did not react to his last remark but merely glanced at the dark mark on his arm and continued to regard him carefully.

"That's not all of it."

"Actually, it about sums it up," Malfoy replied off-handily as he yanked his sleeve back down again.

"You could run."

He gazed at her as if she was mad. "Do you have plugs in your ears? Have you heard a bloody word I've said!?"

Ginny smirked. "I've heard every word you've ever said to me Draco… Including when you described all the hideaways the Malfoy's collected over the years in case certain 'illegal activities' were ever found out… Ones in several different countries; ones prepared to keep you fed, clothed and generally cared for; ones equipped with heavy anti-apparition, anti-track and imperturbable charms… charms any wizard or witch knows are very hard to sense another through."

"It isn't just any wizard or witch we're talking about in case you've forgot," Malfoy remarked dryly.

"Even HE won't have the power being so far away to sense a body through all of that," Ginny replied. "It would take him standing directly in front of the place to be able to lift the charms; and he'd have to find it first, wouldn't he?"

Malfoy continued to stare at her and did not reply; his expression giving away absolutely nothing. He merely picked another blade of long grass and began wrapping it idly around his fingers, his eyes now looking past her into the rapidly darkening sky; the colours of pink, burnt orange and dusky purple now painting the horizon over the mountains.

Ginny watched him for a brief time. He was hiding something, she was sure of it. She wasn't certain what it was, but damn if she wasn't going to find out…

"So what aren't you telling me?" She finally asked.

He let his gaze drift lazily back to hers. "Are you subscribing to some sort of bloody spy magazine, or am I just that interesting?"

Ginny smirked. "Don't try to distract me, it won't work. I've just proved you're story about having nowhere to hide is a lie. I'm waiting for the real answer."

"Super sleuth it is," Malfoy snorted. He regarded her evenly. "Really Red, it's not that complicated. Voldemort is a bastard. So is my father. End of story."

"And that's it…" Ginny stated sceptically. "I don't think so."

The wind had blown her thick red hair about her shoulders. The fading pastel-coloured sky behind her outlined her in a sort of unearthly fragile glow. Her skirt had risen up to a few inches above her knees, and her jumper was just snug enough that it gently highlighted her curves. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity, defiance… and something else.

He supposed later it was the 'something else' that drove him to it, or perhaps it was simply that she actually cared enough about the real Draco Malfoy to search him out, or that she seemed to know him so well…

Whatever it was, without any warning, and even coming as a complete surprise to himself as the act was quite impulsive, Draco suddenly bent forward, grabbed a fistful of that fiery red hair, and crushed her mouth to his.

She stiffened, but the immediate downward-coursing zing of excitement in her chest caused her to yank him closer, grabbing fistfuls of the back of his jumper. Gods, but it felt good to be kissing him again, touching him... Her first thought, formed from pure shock, had been to push him away from her, but she quickly found she didn't possess the inner strength to do it. She supposed he had become an addiction. She'd had none of this type of closeness to miss before him, and now… The month or more without him had seemed like hell on earth.

Every sensation came rushing back. The way he tasted and felt, his scent, his touch, the way thrills of desire twisted and coiled tight in her abdomen as he moved over her… all five senses felt as if they were on the verge of overload.

It was he that finally fully grabbed her and took her to the ground with him, but had he not done it, Ginny was sure she would have. He was pressing too closely against her, his hands branding her skin, his hips grinding in a most intimate way… It was rapidly becoming too much, and she felt her brain turning to mush as if she was losing herself; a thing she had only ever known with him. There was no name to describe the experience, she supposed the only word to come close would simply be 'Draco'. And 'Draco' was overtaking her, again.

When he finally stopped snogging her senseless, their positions were such that he had rolled her over, and was now pressed firmly on top of her, staring down into her face. He was so close she could see the faint red stains on his cheeks, the way his grey eyes glazed over with desire, the way his blonde hair fell over his forehead, the way his gaze scorched her with such a heat she felt she might stop breathing…

He finally spoke, and in such a husky, low voice she had trouble making herself focus on his words and not on…other…things.

"You want to know why?"

Ginny dragged her gaze drunkenly from his lips back up to his eyes and blinked.

"Wh..why?"

Being a Malfoy, he couldn't keep himself from giving her a smug leer.

"Distracted, are we?"

"NO, I’m not you git," Ginny growled emphatically.

He flashed her an amused smirk, though the expression soon turned serious.

"It's because of you."

Ginny frowned. "Me… what'd you mean? I've talked to you about our side; about what we're fighting for, but you’ve just always changed the subject… I figured you wanted no part of it."

"I didn't, but my son of a bitch father gave me no choice, did he?" Draco replied stonily.

He paused for a few moments, sifting his thoughts through carefully and eyeing her as if still unsure he wanted to let her close again. However, there was no point in that line of reasoning. She had gone and taken the decision right from his hands. He had known as soon as she had materialised in front of him tonight there was no more hiding from it, whether or not she rejected him in the end.

He sighed. "That wasn’t the only reason though."

Ginny wisely decided to wait for him to continue. Harsh as he appeared on the outside, she knew his inside as well, and knew he preferred to keep it well hidden from others, even her. He had grown up with the hard knowledge that any sign of vulnerability was seen as weakness and that ultimately, it left one scorned and shamed. Old abuses were hard forgotten.

He rolled off of her and sat up on his haunches, raking a hand nervously through his hair not unlike a certain enemy of his.

"When your brother was killed, something… switched. I dunno... I just... I couldn’t be distant from it anymore. I wanted to be... hell, I laid awake nights trying to trick myself into it, but… I saw how Voldemort had practically tortured you and your family and... gods. I..I really..care.. for you. There wasn’t anyone or anything before you I could say that about. There was no one I would’ve considered fighting for... much less dying for. I hated everyone. I hated the world." He paused then, and snorted at his own thoughts. "I suppose the feeling was mutual…"

"That’s not true!" Ginny exclaimed vehemently, reaching out for his hand and grabbing his wrist instead. "No one’s hated you. Well, Ron and Harry have certainly.. well.. had their differences... um... But, they just haven’t understood you, I think..."

"I don’t blame them," Malfoy cut in with a careless wave of one hand. Ginny watched his defences rise as he continued on in detached tones.

"I never cared; still don’t much, I reckon. I never wanted anyone close to me. That way, if they burned me in some way… I guess it wouldn’t leave a scar, you know?"

Ginny leaned forward, her face a mask of compassion, but saw Draco begin to stiffen when he saw it. He recoiled from even the appearance of pity, so she quickly hid it.

"No one can stay that hard, though," Ginny said in a carefully neutral tone. "And I imagine you have been hurt, haven’t you? No matter how much you’ve fought against it…"

"Doesn’t matter." Malfoy announced stonily. He set his mouth into a thin, annoyed line. "It’s not what this is about anyway and we’re getting off track. I.. I just wanted you to know... even if I hadn’t been forced into choosing sides I would’ve decided to fight against him... For you."

Ginny’s eyes welled with tears. A large stinging lump swelled and ached in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. He was willing to make such a huge sacrifice for her; he had made such an admission of deep feeling... It must’ve taken every nerve he owned to break open that carefully walled-off heart and hope he wouldn’t be rejected.

How could she respond to that? Gods, coming from him it was so much more than just passing fancy or idle words. Draco Malfoy was not one to go about expressing much of anything, much less his deep feelings for someone.

In retrospect, much later, Ginny would wonder to herself if what she had said in reply, and the timing she had chosen to confess it, had not exactly been well considered. But at the present moment, she decided to herself timing wasn’t important. All that mattered was that he had given her opportunity to say it; one that rarely, if ever, might have come along again. So, she decided to take her own advice; the same she had given Hermione some months ago prior to the All Hallows Eve bash.

She did her best to stop her trembling hands, took a deep calming breath, and seized the day.

"…I…love you, too."

Her voice was shaky, scared and full of emotion. Draco’s gaze shot up to meet hers, the words slowly sinking in; his body suddenly, strangely filling to the brim with a kind of shock, wonderment, ..pulsing fear.. such as he had never before ever felt.

Her words flipped a switch in him, quite startling, not unlike the sudden erratic surge of blaring music from a radio. It was comparable to mad, rhythmical, violently chiming bells… The kind that woke one up from a sort of lifetime nightmarish dreamstate; the kind that signified freedom;… the kind that reminded him he was alive…

He peered at her suspiciously, his overly cautious heart telling him she might be less than sincere, but saw only a genuine gaze staring back at him.

And suddenly, miraculously, he existed.

In the world held by Ginevra Weasley’s eyes he, Draco Malfoy…was loved.

A mixture of exhilaration and anxiety rushed through him and, articulate as he had always been, Draco found himself at a complete loss for words. He wanted to tell her he loved her back. He ached for it. He wanted to tell her she had shown him a side to life he had thought was all a lie; that she had opened him up to new possibilities and revelations; that everything he had just told her was a grander, considerably safer version of ‘I love you’ for his heart to relate.

Those three words had avoided, and been avoided by him all his life. He had learned early on to run from them.

But Ginny…

He knew what he meant; knew how he felt, but his long withdrawn heart refused him those..three..words.

He sat for a few moments opening and closing his mouth, irritating himself to no end until Ginny relieved him.

"It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything."

Malfoy gritted his teeth in frustration. "No! I don’t… I’ve just never… Damn it to hell Red, I’m no good at this…"

"I know." She smiled at him. "I know you. It’s alright."

For a few moments all he could do was sit and stare, but eventually baser instincts took over and he reached out to crush her to him once more, feeling somehow more alive than ever he had done before. If it took fighting a war just to own this one moment, he felt he might live to fight a hundred.

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

Weeks passed. A month. A balmy May replaced a rainy April and blew in on warm breezes. School went on as usual; students taking more to the outside to study as the weather grew even warmer, though the promise of upcoming N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s lent the school atmosphere a gloomy air.

Elsewhere, each day since Delores Umbridge's election into the role of Minister of Magic seemed to bring about new unsolved murders in the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and the passing of controversial, somewhat suspicious laws and decrees. She had recently decided to once again allow the Prophet to place important articles on the front page, a move that served to further inflame the fears of the wizarding world to newer, even greater heights; allowing her an easier time setting her new plans into motion. She had promised "protection" for those in the wizarding world falling under the category of Muggle born or half-wizard. The protection she was giving however, had begun to give some, namely Dumbledore and the Order, shivers of trepidation. Something just seemed off about it.

It had started with a decree that all wizards from Diagon Alley onto Hogsmeade Village fitting the category of Muggle born or half-wizard be moved close together to better ensure their safety. After all, it was much easier to guard one very large area, rather than hundreds of small ones, was it not? Her first large decree had been to build comfortable communes; small villages and communities, all paid for by the Ministry, to house those most directly threatened by the recently arisen dark lord. When some began to protest having to move from their homes, Umbridge decided, to make it seem less like a demand and more like a caring suggestion, to make the move optional. Only those who truly felt threatened and, (she implied during one community-inclusive meeting) who truly cared for their wives and children's safety, should feel motivated to move. After all, who was she to force anyone out from where they wanted to stay, however dangerous?

After, many opted to move to the commune, set right outside the village of Hogsmeade and constantly surrounded by Ministry loyal law enforcers and Aurors. However, those who held suspicions or concerns about the new decree, and who still held fast to the opinion that Dumbledore was not in league with the dark lord, had turned to him for his opinion. He had been cautious at first, deciding it was in the school's best interest for him not to completely alienate himself from the Ministry, but to simply give firm disapproval to Umbridge's plan. But the more non pure-blooded wizards and witches that died, despite the new Minister's 'safety plan', the more outspoken against the Ministry he became.

It had been the beginning of the large split between those loyal to the Ministry, and those siding with Dumbledore.

Because of the threat to those wizards not pure-blooded, or even those whose parents were just simply frightened of their children being caught in crosshairs while they were not around to protect them, some had opted to immediately remove their children from school. The already dwindled student population became even smaller. Where at least there had been three hundred or more students still attending, there was now less than one hundred and fifty, and their numbers decreased every day.

The dubious laws and decrees did not stop. Though Dumbledore and those with him suspected Umbridge had less than pure motives in mind, without real evidence it was impossible to try proving it. She was extremely clever in making her decisions sound as if they were really good for those witches and wizards most directly targeted. And, if some still died in the process, well, it was simply time to shore up securities even more, even though her methods had begun to be questioned. While in the beginning they came off sounding logical; later on, (to those who paid close attention), they seemed to include ulterior motives, with a tiny bit of the sinister thrown in.

Toward the end of May, Percy Weasley received first hand account of just such an instance. An instance which would start what those who survived later labelled "the beginning of the end".

He had arrived home late from work a week ago and announced to his family that after some true soul searching, he had decided to quit his job as new Prime Minister of Magic.

Arthur Weasley, who had been one of the ones suspicious and had been thinking of doing the same thing, approved. Molly, although she approved as well, was stunned. Percy's ambition had always been to reach as high into the Ministry as he could; to climb as high up the wizarding government's ladder as he could go. But he had brought something home with him from the office that evening. A very disturbing conversation he had had with Umbridge as she had sat earlier in the day, having her newest "safety law" furiously scribbled out before her.

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

(The Ministry of Magic one week ago, night of Percy's resignation, evening of May 21^st.)

Umbridge sat at her highly polished desk, plump fingers crossed before her and a satisfied, almost sadistic little smile upon her face.

Percy sat opposite her, watching as to his right, the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, a small, balding, elderly wizard with a nervous twitch, charmed his quill to take down her words.

"Our community is still suffering," Umbridge simpered out loud, speaking in tones that suggested she had memorised her speech long ago. "Our friends; our neighbours are still suffering under the brutal, unforeseeable attacks of the dark lord. As such is the case, I have met with my colleagues and have formed a newer plan, one which I hope will provide our part of the wizarding world, for as long as the threat of the dark lord remains, with the best protection we can provide against his evil. Scouts for the Ministry have found a large, very secretive location some two hundred miles from here in the Grampian Mountains; very hard to detect. The peak we have chosen is a Munro, standing at three thousand five hundred forty two feet."

(A/N: A 'Munro' peak is a Scottish mountainous peak that rises above 3000 feet, so named after Sir Hugh T. Munro who surveyed and produced tables of 236 peaks as the highest mountains in Scotland in 1891. The Grampian Mountain range is an actual range in Scotland.)

"Therefore it would take quite a bit of doing to not only make it up such a mountain, but to break through the barrier wards we've placed round the new encampments. It will be ready within a months time, May tenth; I've got every available construction labourer working on it night and day…"

Percy, clearly surprised, cleared his throat.

Umbridge stopped reciting and eyed him in annoyance.

"Ah… Minister Umbridge, I wasn't informed of this decision… In fact I was never even informed of a meeting about this, I'm quite certain…"

Umbridge shut her eyes briefly in what was supposed to be a scarcely tolerant manner. "Did you not receive my memo, Weasley? I sent yours along with the rest this past Monday."

"I never got anything," said Percy slowly, a small echo of doubt now beginning to resound in his mind.

"Well it is not up to me to see that you do or do not check your messages," she said pompously. "The committee, having understood the urgency has voted positively, and the matter has been settled. Now if you will allow me to finish…"

Percy said nothing, but continued to stare at her as she finished reciting. Something felt wrong; a nagging, suspicious sensation tingled at the base of his spine. Already the building of a commune outside of Hogsmeade had seemed a bit leery to him; after all, the dark lord only needed one good strike to rid Diagon Alley and wizarding Scotland of a fair amount of its Muggle borns and half-wizards, now they were all rounded up in one spot. Now, here she was executing a new plan, one that not only rounded them together again, but shipped them off to some sort of faraway, out of sight encampment for their 'protection'. It all reminded him of something he had studied back in Hogwarts, something that had historically ended up very dark and sinister…

"…obviously can't use the Hogwarts Express as it will be too close to end of school and will be needed for the students. Instead, we will be using the Hogsmeade Transport. It is the largest train we have available, and will comfortably carry up to at least four hundred witches and wizards…"

Senior Undersecretary Vetustus Elrod abruptly stopped writing and stared at the Minister. Umbridge immediately noticed the quiet absence of quill scratchings and looked up at him.

"Minister Umbridge... the Hogsmeade Transport is a freight train. Moreover, it's been retired for more than thirty years now… The great fire of sixty-five, remember?" He smiled trustingly at her. "You've simply misspoken, I trust..."

"There has been no mistake," Umbridge interrupted coldly, her eyes dangerously narrowed. "It is being brought out of retirement. It is the largest train in Hogsmeade. We'll have need of it for such great numbers."

"B..But it was labelled unfit for use after the fire, Minister!" Elrod stuttered, shocked. "Surely you don't mean to place all of those people in danger…"

"It will be overhauled and repaired before its use, of course," Umbridge stated matter-of-factly. "Once again, I must impress on you the severity of our situation, Vetustus. We must use every resource we have to keep our community safe until the danger has passed, do you not agree? And the farther away and hidden from the dark lord they are, the safer they will be."

Elrod sat stammering before her, with Percy looking on warily. She sent the elder wizard a shrewd, cold stare.

"I am not so oblivious as to misinterpret the dire situation we are in, Elrod. I had thought you to be of the same mind. Obviously I was mistaken." She sent him a humourless smile. "Keeping the wizarding community safe at all costs is our first priority. If you are of the opinion there are greater things to be going on about, I believe it might be time to replace you. After all we must all work together... for the good of the wizarding world."

Something in her expression and the ungodly glint in her eyes made Percy shudder. He had a feeling Umbridge was interested in more than simply the 'good of the wizarding world'. He was soon to find out just how correct he was.

Elrod finished taking his notes and left muttering to himself. The door clicked shut behind him, and Percy turned to find Umbridge smiling to herself and fondly eyeing a familiar looking book. Funny he hadn't noticed it lying on her desk before. The author's name, glinting gold on the spine, sparked some sort of recognition, but hard as he tried Percy could not determine where he had seen it.

"Philetus Harold," he murmured aloud, unaware he had done so.

Umbridge snapped briskly out from her thoughts and eyed him.

"You've heard of him?"

"Somewhere," Percy answered, frowning. "Can't quite grasp it, though."

As he watched Umbridge visibly relax, he narrowed his eyes.

"He was one of the greatest wizards of our time," she said quietly. "Pure-blooded wizard. However, to better further his cause he decided to live as a Muggle… a powerful one at that. Switched his own name… his life. Pity he lived and died so long ago…"

Again, something imperceptible made Percy shiver. Unconsciously he wrapped his arms about himself, staring at the book and it's title.

The Muggle Project: My Life and Cause, by Philetus Harold.

What was it about that name… It was in Muggle studies he had heard it… yes… But why had it been so significant…

"He had such dreams; such visions…" Umbridge whispered almost reverently. It seemed to Percy she now barely registered he was still in the office with her.

"He was a genius… But his intelligence was what ultimately did him in. Even the wizarding brain is susceptible to the madness caused by an over-brilliant mind. He went mental with it, ended up dying with only a spare part of the project finished. It was to be so much larger and more expansive than what little he accomplished. When he died, he left his extraordinary views of a better world to die with him…"

Something was clicking into place for him… a someone in Muggle history who seemed befitting of the person Umbridge's words had conjured. The image of a man Percy had found to be absolutely beyond horrifying…

He turned wide eyes to Umbridge, forcing himself to be calm. "It… it is late, isn't it Minister?"

Umbridge, brought back from her thoughts, watched him carefully for a few moments and then simply nodded.

Percy paused.

"…Have you read that book the whole way through?"

She nodded. "Several times."

He took a deep breath, composing himself. "You've gone on about it so fascinatingly. I wonder… if I might borrow it to read myself."

Every inch of Umbridge froze in place. She seemed to be staring through him, such was the intensity of her gaze. And for the second time in this very office, Percy Weasley was terrified.

"Oh I don't think so," she replied slowly, her eyes still glued to his. "It's not mine, you see. I've borrowed it from.. someone.. I greatly admire. He wouldn't be happy to know I'd loaned it out, I think. It's the only one of its kind."

"There were never any copies made?" asked Percy.

Umbridge shook her head. "Only the Muggle copy, and it leaves so much out. It goes by a different name."

The way she was scrutinising him, Percy decided not to push his luck by asking her for the title. She seemed on the verge of an outburst, and a mad one at that. Whatever secrets the book held, he would have to find them out for himself.

"Oh well, it's alright then," he answered nonchalantly. "I'll head out then, I think. I want to beat the floo traffic."

Umbridge nodded, her eyes boring into Percy's back as he made his way easily from the office and out into the torchlit halls of the Ministry, where he finally broke out into a full run.

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

Some hours later Percy Weasley sat in a squashy old armchair in front of the Burrow's hearth, facing his parents who sat on the couch opposite him. He had related his story to them, but as only Arthur had taken Muggle studies in school, and had forgot most of what did not relate to his job in 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts' as it had been so long, neither knew the name Philetus Harold.

Then as if struck by lightning, a thought occurred to Percy. Umbridge had said Philetus had switched his name to a more Muggle one. Not that he had changed his name or taken on a new one… but that he had switched it.

Could it really be that simple? Of course to anyone who hadn't heard Harry Potter's story of meeting a younger version of Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets some five years ago, the puzzle might not be nearly as solvable. And yet… was the answer to his question staring him right in the face? Could Voldemort have chosen the very same puzzle for himself?

Percy took the bit of parchment bearing the author's name and laid it out flat on the table. He grabbed out his wand and pointed it.

Arthur Weasley frowned. "Percy, what are you doing?"

"You aren't about to blast a gauge in my coffee table!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, her face beginning to redden with anger. "It's more like Fred and George to go about something like that!"

Percy ignored them for the moment, his mind centred on what he was about to do.

"Primus Nomino!"

The letters lifted themselves off of the parchment, glowing orange, to float up and hover above the heads of the three Weasleys below. The room was thrown into an undulating orange glow not unlike how it was when the hearth was lit.