Harry Potter and the Covenant of the Triangle

bamaslamma29

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/03/2003
Last Updated: 18/04/2006
Status: paused

*It's not necessary to have read "Harry Potter and the Forest of Kavan" to read this one, but certain things may make more sense if you do!* Happy reading!...The trio's seventh year at Hogwarts, a final war with Voldemort is approaching, and all who will be involved must now begin the most important training of their young lives. But what is this prophecy? And who are the ones to fulfill it? Contains lots of H/Hr and some D/G and R/L. Beginning to middle chapters deal mainly with H/Hr relationship and the trio's friendship. Latter chapters pick up intensity quite a bit. Happy reading, and please do review, I take what is said to heart!

Chapters

1. Chapter 1: The Forest

2. Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys

3. Chapter 3: Breakfast at the Burrow

4. Chapter 4: Letters

5. Chapter 5: Diagon Alley

6. Rooming At The Cauldron

7. Chapter 7: Ginny's Plan

8. Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

9. Chapter 9: Home to Hogwarts

10. Chapter 10: Carriage Rides

11. Chapter 11: A Tragedy Revealed

12. Chapter 12: The Divining

13. Chapter 13: Dark Plans

14. Chapter 14: Theft of the Time Turner

15. Chapter 15: Time for Truth

16. Chapter 16: All Is Revealed

17. Chapter 17: Realizations and a New Class

18. Chapter 18:Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing

19. Chapter 19: Need

20. Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

21. Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

22. Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

23. Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

24. Chapter 24: Oblivious Sirius

25. Chapter 25: Reunion

26. Chapter 26: An Invitation

27. Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

28. Chapter 28: Marked

29. Chapter 29: First Victims

30. Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

31. Chapter 31: A Funeral and an Army

32. Chapter 32: Fudge and his Greatest Regret

33. Chapter 33: The Beginning of the End

34. Chapter 34: Final Contact

35. Chapter 35: All Day Permanent Red, Part: 1

36. Chapter 36: All Day Permanent Red Part Two

37. Chapter 37: All Day Permanent Red: Part Three

38. Chapter 38: O Captain, My Captain

39. Chapter 39: What Once Was

40. Chapter 40: Remembrance

41. Chapter 41: Seasons of Change

1. Chapter 1: The Forest

Harry Potter and the Covenant of the Triangle

Chapter 1:The Forest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed his body back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys

Chapter 2: The Dream and the Dursleys

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

(The dream)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ron…" sobbed Hermione quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry tasted bile and promptly vomited.

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

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

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

"Goodbye, Potter…PESTIS CONLABOR!"

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

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

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

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

(End dream)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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3. Chapter 3: Breakfast at the Burrow

Chapter 3: Breakfast at the Burrow

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Molly…" began Arthur again.

"Well breakfast won't eat itself!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Ronald! What in Merlin's name…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred shrugged and made his way down the stairs.

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

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

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

She poised her quill to write again and smiled.

"Dear Draco,

I was so pleased to get your last letter…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was that dear?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What sort of animals?" piped up Ginny.

Arthur set his teacup down absently. "Unicorns."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What!? Where's Pig!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. Chapter 4: Letters

Chapter 4: Letters

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

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

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

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

Dear Harry,

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

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

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

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

gotten you something more studious than "Candid Conversations With

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ron.

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

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

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

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

Hi Love,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

know what that means, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

planned, ok?

Until then, I love you all there is.

Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Chapter 5: Diagon Alley

Chapter 5: Diagon Alley

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh huh…of course."

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

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

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

"Oh…she'll do well…"

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

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

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

"A…Absolutely, I agree…good idea."

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

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

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

"OW, Hermione! Dammit…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I missed you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry mate…Needed that you know…"

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

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

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

"Castr…What the hell…!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that then?" asked Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harry?"

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

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

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

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

Harry smiled. "Thanks for that, Ron."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The new WHAT!?"

"How's that!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No need for books apparently…" began Neville.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sweetums?" snorted Hermione.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a good day.

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

6. Rooming At The Cauldron

Chapter 6: Rooming at the Cauldron

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come in."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Someday…soon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I try."

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

* *

* *

* *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harry, get up."

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry glanced at him over the rim of his cup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

UNICORN KILLINGS ABOUND

by Lorivan Thatchmire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That all then?" she broke in rudely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* *

* *

* *

7. Chapter 7: Ginny's Plan

Chapter 7: Ginny meets Draco

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not cold in here, is it…"

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

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

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

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

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

"Not funny, Weasley."

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

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

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

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

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

"Like he respects me?" Draco shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is," she replied simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8. Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just friends, aye?"

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

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

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

"Reputation…" repeated Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's good to know."

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

"I don't think so."

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

"I don't mind."

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't what…"

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

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

"Harry, damn it…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dark mark had been placed over Diagon Alley.

"Wh…what is it!?"

"What does it say!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Ollivander…" he whispered urgently.

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't let go yet…Not yet, please."

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Ollivander, I’m sorry…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I…I'll see you at school, Ron."

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

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

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

"You saw the way she looked at me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9. Chapter 9: Home to Hogwarts

Chapter 9: Home to Hogwarts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ron nodded. "Might as well."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ron snapped awake first.

"Sod off, Malfoy!"

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Weasley, if you please…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hermione stiffened. "We were there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10. Chapter 10: Carriage Rides

Chapter 10: Carriage Rides

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hermione let go and beamed up at him.

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

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

"Yeah, yeh were," said Hagrid fondly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Memory)

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

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

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

"Headed somewhere Gryffindork?" growled Goyle dumbly.

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

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

"Ginny."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nice excuse…good one. I don't buy it though."

She stepped up to him and leaned right into his face with a sarcastic look. "That's a shame. I was trying so hard…"

He wasn't faltering this time, and leaned even closer to her until his breath mingled with her own. "Try harder."

His large gray eyes, cold as ice chips, yet somehow seductive at the same time stared unflinchingly into hers, and it was Ginny's turn to feel unnerved. He'd gotten to her…Damn.

She stumbled back a little. "S…so full of yourself…damn Slytherin…" She whirled back around and made her way quickly down the corridors toward the bathrooms.

Draco folded his arms and lowered his chin, watching her leave with a cool half-smile on his face. He'd won that round…and he knew it.

(End Memory)

Ginny thinned her lips and shook her head darkly to rid herself of the images. Damn Malfoy…but she was definitely going to be the "chasee" and not the "chaser".

She sat back comfortably and crossed legs and arms for the ride to Hogwarts. Well, here she was in this empty carriage. She was giving him the opportunity; now to see if he considered her a motive…

Amid the faint background noises of the neighing, restless horses and the sounds of talking and laughing students, Ginny heard footsteps approaching her carriage. Long easy strides, a confident arrogant march…She smiled. Bait and hook…

"Oy Draco!" called out a deep voice, "Why aren't you riding with us!?"

She heard his robes rustle a little in the breeze as he turned. "You're too crowded Goyle; I need space. What…do you need me to hold your hand too?" he finished scornfully. There was no reply.

The carriage creaked a little as his weight rested on the first step and then he was inside, giving her a prickly look that dared her to say a word.

Ginny favored him with a dispassionate glance. "Well…this is a first."

"Don't flatter yourself, Red. The other carriages are full."

Ginny smiled inwardly. She had seen, just as well as he had that there were less students this year, and what with the hundreds of carriages Hogwarts usually borrowed from Hogsmeade, she knew that there was probably ample space still available. She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled, turning to gaze out of the small window.

He scowled at her and crossed his arms, speaking sharply. "Something on your mind…"

"Why'd you ask?" she said quietly, scanning the green fields on the outskirts of Hogsmeade Station.

"You look like the cat that just ate the sodding canary…" he replied snidely.

She turned back to him and quirked an eyebrow. "You are paying close attention, aren't you?"

"How can I not?" He scoffed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gave her a challenging half-sneer.

Ginny leaned forward as well and met his gaze steadily. "Are you saying you find me interesting?"

"I'm saying I'd rather not find you, but since you ask…I find you friggin' strange. Annoying, really…"

She tilted her head, a sarcastic smirk on her face and drew closer. "So I'm a mystery…"

He leaned a little closer, a false disdain sneering on his lips. "Some might call it that."

They were mere inches from each other now, and Ginny dealt the winning retort. "Wouldn't you just like to solve me…"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, prepared to deliver a cool reply, but at that moment another fiery redheaded person trotted up the steps and stuck his head through the door of the carriage.

"Ginny, you're welcome to ride with…us…" he trailed off sharply as he saw the other passenger.

Ginny tensed as Malfoy leaned back from her to eye Ron with a harsh sneer. "Weasel…"

Ron instantly looked disgusted and furious at the same time. His eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped into the carriage and whipped out his wand.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in here!?"

Ginny stood and put a hand on her brother's arm. "Ron…"

"I can ride wherever and with whomever I damn well please Weasel," scowled Malfoy, whipping out his wand.

"Draco please!" said Ginny, holding out a hand to him.

"Bloody ferret…" snarled Ron moving forward.

Ginny moved in-between them and was immediately sandwiched.

"Ginny move!"

"Get out of the way, Red…"

"That's enough!" she snapped angrily, shoving both boys away from her.

Malfoy continued to scowl with narrowed eyes at Ron, whose attention was back on his sister.

"Ginny, what the…What's wrong with you; are you daft!? Taking up for Malfoy…and riding with him no less…"

Ginny's eyes flashed angrily and she stood to her full height, coming about to Ron's shoulders. "I'm not taking up for anyone and I'm not a child anymore, Ron! I can decide for myself what I do and who I do it with, and I don't need you to defend me! I can take care of myself!"

Draco blinked in surprise at her tone and eyed her with a tinge of respect.

Ron glanced at him and clenched his teeth so hard that the ends of his jaw stood out like walnuts. He'd seen the look.

"I'm riding with you."

"What!?" said Ginny angrily, glaring at him.

Ron didn't reply, but merely plopped down on Ginny's side of the carriage and kept his vicious glare on Malfoy.

Draco, not one to be forced by anyone, sat down opposite them and put away his wand, drolly gazing at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Have it your way, Weasel," he shrugged, crossing arms and legs and settling back nonchalantly. "I don't give a damn what you do."

Ron 'humphed' angrily, and Ginny scowled, crossing her arms and gazing out of the window. This wasn't exactly what she had planned…

********************************

Harry and Hermione stood outside of their carriage, Hermione tapping an impatient foot on the ground.

"What's taking him so long? We're about to leave!"

"I don't know," said Harry, squinting towards Ginny's carriage and shading his eyes, "He was supposed to be right back with Ginny. Maybe he decided to ride with her."

"Everyone on the carriages!" shouted McGonnagol as she prepared to board one herself, "We're leaving!"

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "We'd better find out or he'll be left behind…"

She began to stalk towards Ginny's carriage but Harry's hand on her arm stopped her. "No time for that. Look, the driver's got the reins. He probably is riding with her…"

Hermione frowned and turned back to Harry. "But what if he's out talking or snogging Lavender or something? If we leave without him he'll be in a load of trouble!"

Harry put his arm about her waist and pulled her close to him, staring into her eyes mischievously. " 'Mione…an hour long carriage ride…just you and I…alone."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she began to smile as she caught Harry's meaning. Harry winked at her, and she squeezed him and smiled seductively.

"He's a big lad…he can take care of himself."

"That's right," Harry nodded, taking Hermione's hand and pulling her into the carriage.

When she was inside, she whirled around and shut the door, quickly locking it. Harry reached behind him and pulled the shade of the window down without looking at it.

Hermione grinned and laughed a little as Harry took her hand and yanked her to him. He lowered his head to kiss her, and then swept her hair aside to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

She closed her eyes and shivered, tipping her head up towards the ceiling and let one hand tangle in his hair while the other slid down his back. Heaven…

"What'll we do for a whole hour?" she quipped softly.

Harry mumbled against her neck. "I don't know…We'll think of something…"

Hermione took off his glasses and tossed them onto the seat, and not for the first time marveled at the startling pool of green that was his eyes. So clear and so guileless; they were like windows to his soul; a radiant thing too. She turned his face back to hers and pulled him into a heated kiss, her hands once again tangling in his unruly ebony hair. Harry returned it just as passionately.

He dropped to his knees on the floor, taking Hermione with him, not willing even for a second to interrupt the kiss. He marveled at how each time he shared a kiss with her, the excitement never seemed to diminish. He wanted not only to touch her lips; to feel her soft skin, but also to know her, to devour her soul and make her part of him. She was the best part of being; the one person in his whole life who had taught him that living could be beautiful after all. How could he ever let that go?

The carriages began to move, but neither could bring themselves to care. Being with each other was intoxicating, and left no room for thought about outside things. Harry lowered her to the floor of the carriage and took just a moment to stare into her large brown eyes. Did she really reserve that look of passion just for him?

He smiled at her and leaned down to speak softly into her ear. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Hermione, marveling at how the simple feel of his breath whispered against her ear made her stomach knot with excitement, simply smiled back at him and gave him the only words that were adequate. "I love you. That's enough."

Harry, lying half on top of her, stroked her hair, trailing fingers slowly down her face. His expression though filled with tenderness, slowly turned to one of thoughtful sadness. "I don't know what I'd do without you…You're everything to me; do you know that? At times…at times you've been the only thing that's kept me going. I don't think I'd know how to live if anything ever happened to you…"

Hermione raised a hand to his face and stroked it, noting with a little bit of alarm how he seemed to melt into the touch as if afraid he might lose it. "Harry…what's is it?"

Harry, a look of desperation suddenly on his face, hugged her to him then, his arms tightening around her in an all-consuming embrace; as if he were trying to crush her to him to ward against ever being separated. It seemed to him that if he could just press her close enough, he could somehow become more than he was; stronger somehow; powerful enough to keep her safe from everything.

Hermione pulled back from him, gazing at him in apprehension. Harry wasn't usually one to announce his fears. He seemed somehow to be trying to ward against some awful happening he had divined.

"Harry, tell me…what's wrong?"

Harry swallowed hard and continued touching her face, not sure how to put what he felt into words. He was the one that loved her, and also the one that put her in the most danger. Just by being with her, he provided another target for Voldemort to use against him. He'd already tried it once, just last year, and now that the dark lord knew how much Hermione meant to him, Harry was certain he wouldn't rest until he'd somehow taken her from him, and he'd had enough taken from him to last two lifetimes. Harry swallowed down the bitter anger that settled like a cold lump in his stomach. He couldn't and wouldn't allow that to happen…even if it meant his own life. She was too precious.

"Harry…you're scaring me…"

Instantly, Harry tuned back in to her, placing a hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you…I just…I...When everything else is dark…you…you're my light 'Mione. I don't want anything to happen to you because of me…because of who I am."

Hermione regarded him tenderly, and placed her hands on either side of his face, gazing into clear eyes that seemed deeper than the sea at that moment. "Harry…"

She breathed his name, and like a sudden calm, things were better, peaceful; more lovely. He marveled at how she could lighten him with the simple sound of her voice.

"There are no guarantees in life, " she continued softly, "except one. No matter who you are to the rest of the world, you're Harry to me. My Harry…and I'm with you because I love you."

Harry smiled at her and bent to kiss her again, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Mione? Wha…"

"And if you ever think of trying to push me away from you to protect me…I'll hex you to within an inch of your life."

Harry regarded her thoughtfully for a moment with the slightest tinge of sadness, and decided not to answer that. He couldn't promise her anything of the sort.

"You know I bloody love it when you get all fierce with me…" He gave her a cute lopsided smirk that served to mollify her a bit, but she wasn't fooled. She knew a change of subject when it was handed to her…however adorable the package.

"Harry, I mean it…"

He shook his head, put a finger to her lips, and then favored her with the most achingly tender kiss she had ever received. After some time, he bent low to her ear and whispered softly.

"I love you Hermione."

That was it. As she looked up into his brilliant green eyes and saw them go dark with desire, Hermione realized that no more words were going to be exchanged on this particular trip.

Harry shook his head slightly as he gazed down on her beneath him; her long wavy hair fanned around her, her soft brown eyes flecked with gold, invitingly full lips…Desire slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms about her, kissing her with such a fiery intensity; so thoroughly and completely that it left her faint. Great Merlin Harry…

Hermione's breath hitched over and over as they moved over each other, exploring...touching…craving the other's kiss. What was this feeling…almost like spontaneous combustion? It was too dizzying to think; for both of them. It was almost desperate…extreme…intoxicating…startling in its intensity…

Temporary insanity, thought Harry as an electric shock moved up his spine from Hermione's touch, but sod it all if they wouldn't surrender to it…

The carriage kept moving, and they kept being oblivious to its jostling. The trip to Hogwarts was short enough; why not linger in a stolen moment?

11. Chapter 11: A Tragedy Revealed

Chapter 11: A Tragedy Revealed

In the near distance, Hogwarts loomed above its students like a huge, medieval castle, cold and intimidating from the outside, but warm and inviting within.

Most of the students, with faces peering expectantly out of the windows or calling out in fun to one another, were thrilled to be returning, and only a few had the beginning of the school year humdrums. Fewer still cared not one way or the other, as did Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, who was too busy sulking to notice. And only one pair had no thoughts about it one way or the other. They were too busy noticing each other to be bothered by anything else.

Hermione, in a daze at the moment, barely felt a small jolt as the carriages rolled to a stop, and once again heard the voices of her fellow students slamming open doors and moving in groups toward the castle.

"H…Harry…"

Potter, at the moment, was too busy tasting the skin between her neck and shoulder to notice any change and murmured against her.

"Mmm…?"

Even the vibration of his husky voice against her shoulder was erotic. Hermione shivered.

"Harry…we're here."

"Mmm, what…"

"We're at Hogwarts…" she breathed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Harry fell back from Hermione in surprise and caught her "deer in the headlights" look.

"Are there students in here?" called McGonnagol's distinct voice, "In case you've missed it, we have reached our destination."

"Oh Merlin…" breathed Harry.

Immediately they shot up from the floor of the carriage and began tidying themselves. Harry's button up white shirt was open and his hair was even more untidy than usual. As for Hermione, her hair was in complete disarray, and her clothes were rumpled and turned oddly.

"Hello…" called the impatient voice.

Harry unlocked the door and threw it open. "Sorry professor, we…fell asleep…"

McGonnagol frowned sternly at them as they stepped sheepishly down the steps and followed their retreating forms with narrowed eyes. Flushed faces and swollen lips were a little harder to conceal…

***************************************

The Great Hall was full once again, the ceiling bewitched to resemble the starry sky outside at dusk, floating candles cheerily flickering, and every students plate set before them, waiting for the feast to begin.

"Oh glory!" beamed Nearly Headless Nick as he floated above the Gryffindor's table and mentally took head count, "Students and cheer again! The castle is just to quiet without you!"

"Thanks Sir Nicholas!" grinned Dean Thomas, giving him a cheeky wink.

"Less students though," said Seamus, giving Neville an elbow in the ribs, "We're well low this year…"

As Neville gazed about him, he realized how evident it was that the student population had shrunken. Each table, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff seemed to have at least a fourth less students, and as it became evident from the conversations around him, not everyone understood why.

Harry and Hermione found Ron seated with Lavender on one side, and a quiet sad-faced Colin Creevey on the other and decided to join them in the seats closer to the front.

"Where've you two been then?" said Ron, "The first years are almost here…"

"Nevermind that," said Harry quickly.

Ron frowned suspiciously.

The sorting ceremony went quicker than ever before, the hat only having fifteen students to sort this year.

As soon as it was over, a graver than usual Dumbledore stood to give his beginning of the term speech. As the Great Hall hushed, he favored them with a wan smile.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts students. Although I'm sure most of you can tell that attendance is a bit lower than usual, I'm sure we will have a just as exciting, happy, and academically fulfilling school term. Prefects were notified in your school letters. Head boy and Girl this year are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

Applause, mostly from Gryffindor followed. Hermione beamed accordingly and Harry slumped down in his seat a bit. He knew he hadn't received the honor based on marks, and worried a little at how the school might take it.

"We will be having a Yule Ball this year, so you may want to plan accordingly for the holidays as it will fall close to Christmas. And now a few start of the term notices…As always, and let me make this absolutely crystal clear, the Forbidden Forest and beyond is strictly prohibited. As I am sure by now you've heard about the animal disappearances, I trust this will not be a problem…"

A small amount of distressed murmuring began, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "Please, if I may continue…There is no need for panic. The school grounds, as always, have been safeguarded; even more so owing to last years…mishap…"

Hermione was eternally grateful for the professor's discretion. He continued.

"A small change in our usual class routine…This year we will be offering an Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class…"

Immediately, there was louder and more excited murmuring.

"Please…please…" Dumbledore patted the air with both hands, "Of course Monsieur DeVoncrey of Beaubaxtons will continue to teach our regular class, but we have the return of another professor to thank for our new class that I'm sure many of you will enjoy…Remus, please."

Out of the doorway to the left side of the teacher's table, Remus Lupin stepped out with a look of slight unease about him. He looked noticeably more healthy than when they had last seen him, but was still dressed in shabby robes.

There were three duly noted reactions. Most students began cheering wildly, some gasped in fear, having never gotten over the fact that he was a werewolf, and some merely scowled or chose not to react at all. These were mostly Slytherins, and many of the more severe scowls came from Draco Malfoy and those seated near him.

Lupin nodded humbly and seated himself next to Snape, who immediately shot him a look of loathing.

"Lupin!" stated Ron slack-jawed, "I can't believe it!"

"Oh I'm so excited!" squealed Hermione.

"He's the best we've had," said Harry with a grin, "Maybe the parents are finally realizing we need someone like him."

Dumbledore continued. "The advanced class will be open only to those for whom it is chosen, and the heads of your houses will make that decision. It will be a small class, and intensely difficult, but I'm sure there are those here who will excel."

Harry could've sworn at that moment that Dumbledore had given him a glance over his half-moon glasses. Ron noticed as well and gave him an odd look, but Hermione, across from Colin, was too preoccupied to notice. She had never seen eyes so sad.

"Colin?" She reached across the table and laid a hand on the younger boy's arm.

Creevey jumped, startled, and looked up from the table to see Hermione giving him a caring, searching look.

"Sorry," she smiled, "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you…are you all right? You seem so down…"

"I'm fine," said Colin in a small voice. He seemed then to sink down into himself, shifting his thin shoulders upward as if to hide more of his frame.

"Are you sure?" said Hermione gently, "You know…we've known each other for a long while now. If you need to talk…"

"I don't," cut off Colin, though not harshly. "Thanks Hermione, but I'll be fine."

At that moment, Hermione suddenly tuned back in to Dumbledore's speech, because he began speaking about something she hadn't thought or imagined to hear…

"…and I would like to extend my deepest condolences to the Creevey family. Dennis's absence will be felt by all, especially his housemates. But the search will continue. Not all hope is lost."

Hermione's hand jumped from Colin's arm as if it were hot to the touch. Harry and Ron, along with other Gryffindors seated nearby immediately shifted shocked gazes his way.

Colin lowered his head, eyes closing briefly against the words spoken, and suddenly got up and approached the professor's table. With a few words to McGonnagol, she was up in an instant, and with an arm across his shoulders, began steering the boy towards a side exit.

Hermione swallowed a thick lump in her throat and turned towards Harry and Ron. "Oh Colin…"

The mood in the Great Hall was a bit more somber as Dumbledore closed his speech with the perfunctory do's and don'ts. At the end, he clapped his hands and hundreds of dishes were filled with the most delicious, aromatic foods the house elves could conjure.

Hermione and Harry, along with those closer to Colin, selected very few things. Even Ron, known as the "Hoover" among Gryffindors ate very little.

After dinner, prefects began leading the students to their dorms, and Ron surprised Harry and Hermione with the news that he had been selected as one.

"Ron that's great!" gushed Hermione, but Harry frowned at him.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier!?"

"Well I was going to surprise you and tell you at King's Cross but McGonnagol tossed you and 'Mione your Head badges. Sort of took the wind from my sails you know…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh don't be ridiculous! Being made prefect is a great honor!"

"So you say," said Ron as he began to move away from them towards the younger students.

"It is you mong," said Harry.

"Whatever," called out Ron from a small distance down the halls. "First years follow me! Hurry up now!" The children began jogging to catch up with him.

Harry swung around suddenly with a fake surprised look on his face. " 'Mione, I just heard Percy! Is he back!?"

Ron stopped in his tracks and turned, causing two first years to bump into one another to stop from crashing into him.

"Oh you great sodding prick. You're dead for that one…"

Harry barked out a laugh and Ron whirled back around suddenly, jerking a hand for the kids to follow him.

Hermione covered her smile expertly and spoke to Harry after Ron had gone around the corner. "Harry, how could you? You know how Ron despises anything Percyish…"

"Oh he'll get over it. C'mon, let's go see our rooms. I've always wondered how the other half lives."

He grabbed Hermione's hand and she smiled at him as he led her down the hallway.

At the portrait door, where a sign hung above clearly said "Head Boy and Girl", they faced the portrait in confusion.

"Where's the figure?" said Hermione, "I don’t see anyone, do you?"

They both began peering at the scene of rolling green hills and distant castles.

Harry replied quietly. "This looks oddly familiar…"

Suddenly a tiny figure, clad in armor and riding into the picture backwards on a poorly shod pony, yelled in a tiny besotted voice that startled both of them. He yanked out a small sword and brandished it wobbily at Harry.

"What ho! *hic* Shtop there you knave! What bithness have you on my private lands!? *hic* Take up thy sword!"

"Oh no…" Hermione groaned.

Harry frowned. "What the…"

"What shayest thou villian!? Shpeak or I shall have the orcs slaughter thee!" The tiny knight then fell ungracefully from his pony to land with a loud clang on the ground. "Methinks it hash become quite dark…" *hic* He frowned beneath his helmet and gazed darkly around him. "How hast the darkness sho shuddenly fallen?"

Harry sighed. "Lift your visor, Sir Cadogen…"

Cadogen picked himself up from the ground and stumbled a bit trying to regain his composure. He lifted his visor slowly at first, and then threw it up in amazement, throwing his tiny arms wide.

"By Merlin…I shee!" He stumbled and fell in a heap of armor, but stood quickly once again. "Who is the brave knight that hath lighted my path once again!?"

"Harry Potter…"

"Parry Hotter! A brave and noble lad *hic* shtout of heart and pure in deed…"

Hermione looked incensed. "Sir Cadogen, are you drunk!?"

"Of course he is…he's completely aled up…"

"Drunk!?" squealed the tiny knight. He was hopping mad and brandished his sword once again. "Have at thee!" He waved the tiny sword in front of him and managed to clang himself on top of his helmet with it. "A lady not withshtanding! *hic* And you! Cad! Cur! Shcurvy rogue! I am a knight of King Arthur! Shecond in command of the round table, p…pershonal friend to Lancelot…"

"Ok, ok," said Harry with a sigh, "These are our rooms good sir…Prithy, wilt thou open for us?"

Cadogen's red eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Pashword?"

"Oh Merlin," said Harry, slapping his forehead in frustration, "I forgot…"

"Dragon's lair," said Hermione with a knowing look, "Harry, you're hopeless."

"I know…"

"A dragon to shlay you say! A noble quest! I must off to defend the kingdom. I bid you good day young ones! *hic* We shall meet again shome fine hour…" Cadogen mounted his pony backwards and galloped lopsidedly out of the picture with his visor clanging up and down. The portrait swung open.

"Completely mental…" said Harry.

They stepped inside and Hermione gasped at the sight. The common room was very small, but comfortably homey. Two completely full bookshelves hugged the dark wood walls, with large intricate red and gold cloth banners bearing the Gryffindor crest on either side. A warm roaring fire was already set in the hearth, and one couch, surrounded on either side by plush easy chairs sat invitingly near. A large desk was placed near the back of the room nearer Hermione's door and held an antique looking candelabra, quills, and extra rolls of parchment.

Harry stood near Hermione with a grin and squeezed her shoulders.

"Walls of books, love…Your own personal heaven."

"It's wonderful," said Hermione breathlessly.

She moved towards a bedroom and opened the door, guessing correctly that it was hers. Her trunk sat at the edge of the canopy bed that was covered in a deep lush red quilt. Crookshanks leapt off of it and ran out into the common room. Hermione could have sworn he gave her a scowl for having kept him waiting. Portraits of previous head girls hung on the wall, along with her own at the end. She smiled, but was relieved to find that the pictures were taken in the ordinary Muggle way. Having twenty or so pairs of eyes watching you at night would be a bit disconcerting…

Harry opened his door and scanned his room as well. It was a lush deep golden color, with a large bed to match; fancy, but not unmasculine. The walls held portraits of head boys past, and his picture, obviously taken by Colin, as he was in his Quidditch uniform, was at the end. Colin, thought Harry. He made a mental note to check on him as soon as possible. How could Dennis have gone missing? It had obviously happened over the summer, though Harry couldn't imagine why there hadn't been an article in the Daily Prophet about it. And where and how had it happened? He didn't want to press Colin when he was so distraught, but what if Voldemort was involved? Still, Harry couldn't imagine what the dark lord would want with Dennis. Well, he thought to himself, I'll find out soon enough.

He clicked the door to his room shut and turned to see Hermione through her bedroom door happily unpacking her trunk. He smiled then, a genuinely happy grin. It was like a small home; cozy and warm, and even more so because he got to share it with her. Heaven indeed…

(A/N): I just want to thank all of the reviewers who took the time to review! Thanks so much! It means a lot. :0) I promise the thick plot is coming, with a few unexpected surprises. Also I totally forgot the disclaimer at the beginning of my story. I own nothing of the HP world but my storyline. I'm just taking the characters out to play, and I'll put 'em back when I'm through! *cheesy grin*

12. Chapter 12: The Divining

Chapter 12: The Divining

The next few days were spent trying to adjust to their new class schedules. As usual, Hermione had signed up for more than she could handle and was almost in tears trying to decide what not to keep.

Divination of course, had not even been a consideration in the first place, Arithmancy was a must, and the new medical training course she had been offered by Madame Pomfrey was her most exciting. The choice had to be between Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes.

"Too bad we can't drop 'History of Magic,' " sighed Ron as the three walked down the hallway to their next classes, "Binns bores me rigid the way he drones on…Can a bloke die from lack of stimulation?"

Hermione swatted him on the arm. "Shut up Ron. Without our history where would we be? Professor Binns may be a little boring but 'History of Magic' is a very important class."

" A little boring 'Mione?" quoted Harry incredulously, "The man doesn't know the meaning of the word 'inflection'."

Hermione shot him a stern look. "Yes well, anyway…I'm thinking of asking Professor McGonnagol if I can use the time turner again."

" 'Mione are you crazy!?" said Ron suddenly, faltering in his steps.

Harry spoke up. "Love, don't you remember how nutty you were in third year having to use that thing? Are you sure you want that again?"

"Of course not Potter but what else can I do!? All of my classes are important!"

Ron winced as he and Harry stopped in front of Hermione's Arithmancy class to drop her off. She had taken to calling Harry 'Potter' when she was annoyed at him, and Ron, being the person he was, rather enjoyed it.

"Uh oh, last names…You're in for it," he smiled at Harry, who gave him a return scowl.

"You too Weasley!" Hermione poked him in the arm and Ron's face fell. "I am not crazy!"

Harry grinned disarmingly and pinched her cheek affectionately. "Of course not, love. Go on now…We'll see you next class."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as if trying to decide whether or not to stay annoyed, but the puppy dog looks she was receiving from both made it hard to do so.

She gave Harry a quick peck and Ron a pinch on the cheek, sighed, and walked into class.

"That's my swotty girl," Harry called after her.

Hermione whirled around. "What!?"

"I love you," Harry grinned.

He and Ron snickered at each other and headed towards Trelawny's Divination class.

*******************************

As always, the classroom was muggy and warm, and filled with a type of incense that was so heavily perfumed it made Harry want to gag. The fire in the hearth glowed an unusual light pink, and threw the whole darkened room into an eerie pastel color. The round tables held four chairs each, with a single candle in the middle lit with the same pastel fire. Any lamps in the room had been covered with light red veils to add to the overall mystical feel.

Harry and Ron chose a table by the window and cracked it open to let in some fresh air. Suffocation had never helped anyone's grades…

Trelawny, in her trademark worn shawl, dress of scarves, thick-lensed glasses and over abundance of bangles stood in front of the class. Her eyes were closed tightly and her hands were clasped before her in an almost prayer-like stance.

The class stared at her in silence for a while until finally, with an over-emphasized shudder, her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes rolled back down to gaze at them.

"Ah! I sensed that you were all finally here. The fates have never led me wrong…"

"She needed second sight for that?" whispered Ron.

Harry snickered, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Divination was among his least favorite classes.

Trelawny sighed in ecstasy. Here was another year filled with students; eager ones hopeful to be in possession of the "inner eye". Her eyes fell on Lavender Brown, who was currently gazing at the Weasley boy, and her seatmate, Parvarti Patil, who seemed to be staring longingly at Potter. Now here were two qualified candidates…staring at a table filled with two who were not so much. Hmmm…

Harry sighed as Trelawny began the class, and continued to sigh as she droned on about the "inner eye" and those fortunate enough to possess it. He never had, and never would believe in any of this. Up until now, all Divination had done for Harry was subject him to a series of embarrassing moments involving Trelawny favoring him with looks of pity and tremulous sighs, while moaning to the whole class about how short his life was going to be, and how full of misery. Never once had any of her predictions come true, save for the one time she had seemed to fall into a true trance and told of the forecoming of certain events involving Voldemort. But even those had been vague. No, he would put no stakes in any of this as long as he had sense enough to know falseness when it stared him in the "eye".

The professor had finally done with her beginning of the school term speech, and decided to wow the class with her new toys. She stood importantly before them, with hands clasped tightly before her and her eyes even bigger than usual. To Harry, she had never resembled an owl so much in her entire teaching life.

"Students, today we will be learning a new art; one that has been aiding witches and wizards in divination for thousands of years." She gestured to the bundle of something on her desk concealed by a large purple cloth covered in a pattern of moons and paused importantly to let the full meaning of what she had just said hit the class. Lavender and Parvarti squirmed in their seats with excitement

"Ah, I see my two gifted students have had a premonition of things to come! Be calmed young ones, and soon all will be revealed."

Ron, with his mouth open in disbelief, rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat. "What a load of bunk! Gifted!? She can't be serious…" He said it a little too loudly, and Parvarti, Lavender and Trelawny all gave him murderous looks before the professor continued.

"As I was saying…Libanomancy is the art of divination through incense…"

"More incense," groaned Harry quietly, "I think I'm gonna live in nausea…"

"…We read the signs in the flares, pops and crackling sounds as the incense burns, and also in the shapes formed from the rising smoke." At this, she flipped off the purple cloth dramatically, leaving the students to stare in wonder at an assortment of jars filled with different herb-like substances. She continued.

"We have coriander, jasmine, hemp, fennel, salt peter, and so forth. These types of incense help when asking questions of the oracle sensor. We will burn our incense, and ask our questions aloud, listening for the answer from the ensuing popping of the seeds or the smoke from the powder. For example, a singular pop indicates a 'yes' answer, and a double pop indicates a 'no'. We will also watch the direction in which the smoke wafts. When drifting towards you it is a positive omen, and away it is a sign of evil to come…"

Harry listened to her speech with an impending sense of doom and let his head fall back onto the window. Professor, I've had a premonition that somehow the fates are going to assault me with backward moving smoke and a series of death symbols that I'm sure you'll pick up on…Merlin help me please…

Trelawny, oblivious to most of the students groanings as usual, began to disperse small vials filled with the herbs and small metal bucket-like devices perched on tall stands, stopping to give Harry a particularly sad, forced smile when handing him his. Harry chewed hard on his bottom lip to keep from saying anything to her and took the vials wordlessly, shooting Ron a murderous look when he began to snicker.

The professor moved back to the front of the class and spoke to the students once more. "Now, we will each take turns choosing one from our tables to be the seer. We will start with the hemp seed. You will place a small pinch in your burner, slide it to rest over a candle, and read accordingly. Ms. Brown and Ms. Patil, you will start. Pay attention please…"

The two girls had both decided that Parvarti should lead, and she moved in her seat with barely controlled excitement.

Trelawny smiled favoringly at the girl. "Now, what question would you like to ask?"

Parvarti answered in a breathy, awed voice. "Well, I…I'd like to know if I'll ever be married."

Most of the boys and even some of the girls groaned as if they had known her question was going to be that trivial, but both Parvarti and Trelawny shot them harsh looks that silenced them. The professor smiled at her.

"Go ahead dear."

When Parvarti had readied the seed, she and the rest of the class watched and listened raptly as the seeds began to crackle.

"I heard it!" shouted Parvarti in glee, "I heard one loud crack first! That's a yes, isn't it!?" Lavender clapped her hands and squealed with delight.

Trelawny nodded and smiled. "It seems you have your answer."

This elicited more squeals of delight from the girls, and even some others that had joined them, and more groans from some of their other classmates. Harry's harsh sigh was among one of the loudest. This had to be hands down one of the biggest wastes of time he had yet encountered in Divination.

"This ranks right up there with the magic eight ball…"

Ron frowned. "Magic eight ball…what's that mate?"

"A Muggle thing," Harry replied flatly, "Never mind."

The rest of the class passed just as worthlessly for them until it was finally their turn. Harry and Ron had been bickering steadily over who was going to have to bear the idiocy, and Ron had finally won. Harry gave a final great sigh and steadied himself. There was no use in whinging about it now…

Trelawny approached their table with a wizened look on her face. "Who has been chosen?"

Ron smiled and pointed at Harry. "He has."

The professor nodded briefly. "Very well Mr. Potter. Have you a question in mind?"

Sure. Why the bloody hell do I have to be subjected to this load of crap every day… "Um…yeah. Will Gryffindor win the house cup this year?"

The rest of the students seemed to think it was a right enough question to ask and paid attention as Harry pinched up the hemp and slid the small burner over the candle. Immediately the seeds all began to pop at once, and Harry looked slightly puzzled. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to decipher that?

He stifled the urge to sneer and looked up at Trelawny. "I'm not quite sure how to read that…"

"It means the outcome is unclear," said Trelawny in a long suffering voice, "Mr. Potter, didn't you read the assignment on translating Divination techniques that I gave over the summer? If you had you would have known the answer…"

Harry could have told her that his Uncle Vernon would have ruptured an artery had he caught his nephew studying anything even remotely "not normal" in his house, but decided that it wasn't worth it. "Sorry professor, I guess I didn't get around to it."

Trelawny frowned hugely. "Mr. Potter," Uh oh here it comes…thought Harry, "I know you and Mr. Weasley don't put too much stock in my class but the least you can do is finish the assignments I give you…"

But Trelawny never finished her scolding because she had chosen then to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. It was at that moment, upon reflection, that Harry would later swear his life literally changed.

The professor suddenly went rigid, her face frozen into a look somewhere between shock and blankness. Students began to cry out, but all were too frozen with fear to move. The grip on Harry's shoulder was painful and tight, causing him to look up at her in alarm. Her normally pale blue eyes were glazed over with a thick white film, leaving the irises almost completely invisible.

The air in the room suddenly felt alive and crackled with electricity, and a wind began blowing that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Although each student could feel it, curiously, not a thing in the room moved. All papers lay still on their desks, robes and hair stayed perfectly still, even the flames from the fire and the candles continued to burn straight.

When she spoke, the voice that came from the professor was deeper and more resonant than her own, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Even in fourth year when she had made the real prediction about Voldemort she hadn't looked this supernatural.

"The dark one is coming…He is building an army that the forces of light will scarce be able to stand against lest the prophecy be fulfilled. Too many have already died…too many innocents have already been sacrificed for his own evil means…

The prophecy…the triangle must come together…the circle must be made whole…he must understand and take responsibility for that which he was meant to do; that which he was born to perform. He must learn...He must train…Only the covenant of the triangle will stop the evil ones. Only the joining of the circle will make him strong enough…He must be ready…Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo…They must all be ready…Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo…"

As abruptly as the "attack" had begun, it ended, and in a whoosh of sudden calm, the wind stopped, the electrical crackle disappeared, and Trelawny released her grip on Harry's shoulder as if she'd just grabbed it briefly to make a point.

"…and so Mr. Potter, I hope you will pay more attention to your studies from now on."

Harry blinked rapidly at her for a moment, and looked wide-eyed over to Ron to see that his mouth had dropped open and a look of utter disturb lay plainly on his face. The rest of the class seemed to follow suit.

"Mr. Potter, did you hear me?" Trelawny scanned the class uneasily. "What's the matter with all of you?"

Harry shook his head and cleared his throat rather loudly. "N…nothing Professor…I think we're through here…"

Trelawny turned to look at the bewitched clock on her wall. The hour hand was indeed pointing to "class over".

"Oh very well then," she sighed as the students slowly began rising and moving towards the exit, "Just please remember what we've learned here today."

Seamus Finnegan gave Harry an odd look as he passed. "How could we forget…"

************************************

Harry and Ron met up with Hermione on their way to Potions and told her about the bizarre prediction.

Hermione smoothed her hands along her arms in an attempt to chase away the goosebumps and spoke breathily. "Wh…what do you suppose it means?"

"We were sort of hoping you would know," said Ron, still feeling a bit spooked. The hairs on the back of his neck had still not calmed down properly.

"Have you heard of a prophecy like that before?" asked Harry.

"Never…Although to be honest I haven't read many books on prophecy…I never put much stock in them; too much like divination."

"I agree," said Harry, putting an arm about her waist, "Still…You should've seen the look on her face. I think she actually made a real prediction there."

"Well whatever it was I'd rather bloody not think on it," said Ron with a shudder, "I knew there was a reason I hated that class, besides the obvious. Professor Trelawny quite simply creeps me out."

In Potions class, not only did the three have to put up with Snape's usual pompous contempt for them, but they also had to field the looks of awe the students that had just come from Trelawny's class were giving Harry.

Snape, who at the moment was busy humiliating Neville for adding too much karapon root to his Transposition potion, finally turned to address the class.

"All right! Just what is going on in here." Snape was the only teacher who could speak with a soft voice that carried such a sting. "Potter, our ever-present celebrity," he sneered magnificently at Harry, "Tell me…what is all the whispering about now? Have you single-handedly brought down the entire population of the dark world or is it something pathetically overprized as usual?"

The Slytherin, in particular Draco Malfoy began snickering wildly, and Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously. Hermione noticed the look and immediately laid a restraining hand on his arm. Provoking Snape further would do no one any good…

Harry looked around to the students and addressed them. "Look…It had nothing to do with me, alright? Just because she was touching me when she had her 'vision' doesn't mean it had anything to do with me."

Most of the students stayed quiet, but Dean Thomas spoke up. "I guess we'll find out won't we?"

Harry sighed and threw back his head in defeat, speaking sardonically. "Yeah, I guess we will."

"I wasn't giving you permission to give a speech Potter," snarled Snape as he moved to the front of the classroom, "Ten points from Gryffindor. As for the rest of you, you can continue your Potter worship elsewhere. I will not tolerate such bilge in my class."

Ron seethed angrily but Harry laid a hand on his arm and shook his head. He didn't give a rat's ass what Snape thought of him; he just wanted to get through the class, head to lunch, and forget about the whole thing. Like Dumbledore always said, 'whatever was going to happen would happen'. There was no sense in worrying about something they had no answer for…yet.

13. Chapter 13: Dark Plans

Chapter 13: Dark Plans

The dark cloaked figure apparated with a decided *pop* and found himself in a small clearing in the middle of the dark forest of Kavan. It was just nearing dusk. The sky was a dusty gray-purple, and the moon and the stars had yet to shine to their full potential owing to the wash of the sun's last orange rays, but somehow being in these woods made everything much darker. Knarled dead trees, the forest floor thick with shriveled dried plants…the only sound he heard as he approached the shack in the clearing was the crunch of long dead leaves underfoot. He had offered for the dark lord to share his home, after all, didn't the future ruler of the entire wizarding world deserve more opulent surroundings? But Voldemort had refused, and had reminded him about the final battle needing to be conducted here. A battle had waged at this very sight last year…a fight between he and Potter that the dark lord seemed to seethe with distinct bitterness about. It was no secret that Voldemort hated Potter, and although he had not explained the particulars of the fight to the death eater, one thing was for certain…his body had been taken from him again.

The death eater shuddered as he approached the grayed, weathered wooden door. It wasn't cold out tonight; Mother Nature had decided to favor Scotland with a mild autumn evening. And yet, a ruby, flickering glow from the lone window gave away the presence of another fire lit in the hearth. Voldemort was always cold these days. The spell Potter had cast had not only robbed the dark lord of his body, but it had begun to slowly take his strength as well. But, no matter…thought the death eater with a slightly nervous sigh, it would all be returned, and much more…soon enough.

He raised a fist to rap on the door, but had no sooner lifted it when a harsh voice sounded from inside.

"Enter."

How was it that he was one of the most respected members of the board of the Ministry, one of the richest, most powerful men in his city, dreaded by his servants and even his own family, and yet, one word from the weakened dark lord could make his knees tremble with fear?

The servant entered the humble shack with his head high and pushed his hood down, revealing long silvery hair and a rehearsed dignity. He might feel slightly off at having to face his master as most of Voldemort's servants usually did, but he had always been the most adept at hiding it. Malfoy's were notorious if not for anything else, for their supremely cool demeanors.

Lucius stepped around the ratty chair to face his master. "My lord."

Voldemort raised his transparent head. The dark cloak wrapped around him almost seemed too heavy for his frail 'spirit'? Lucius wasn't sure what to call what he had become. Calling it a half-life seemed oddly fitting. He wasn't alive, and yet, he wasn't dead. But though his 'spirit' seemed weak, his eyes glittered with the blood red they always had, and his grim mouth was still set in the same ruthless lines. Lucius wasn't fooled. The dark lord had shown his capability too many times to be taken lightly. That was why he served him…darkness, in Malfoy's eyes, equaled power.

"Give it to me," Voldemort's high-pitched, gravelly voice demanded.

Malfoy extended the pale in front of him and the dark lord grabbed it greedily, tipping its contents immediately into his mouth. Despite himself, Lucius looked away, sneering on the inside with the typical Malfoy disdain. When he was done, the dark lord's mouth shone with silver drippings.

Voldemort placed the pale onto the floor and licked the last remains of unicorn blood from his lips.

"How I loathe having to drink that," he said to no one in particular.

"Soon enough, my lord. Soon enough…" said Lucius as he sat formally in the only other chair in the cabin.

Voldemort sat up straighter and gave his servant a piercingly direct glance. "Yes. It will be."

Despite himself, Lucius once again felt himself tremble. But though he felt it, his body didn't betray it. His cool blue eyes, half-lidded with composure and his straight haughty posture never faltered as he replied with only a humble nod.

"Did you bring it…" began Voldemort.

"I haven't yet had the chance to visit the school my lord," replied Lucius in his trademark refined drawl, "I'm waiting for the ministry to have official business there so as not to attract attention to myself."

"You have a son at the school," replied Voldemort with annoyance, "What other business do you need…"

Malfoy shifted in his seat. "Parents don't normally frequent the school without express invitation, my lord. The few times I've visited, Dumbledore has kept a close watch on my comings and goings. He's never trusted me, which makes this extremely difficult…"

"I'm sure you'll find your way around that, won't you Lucius?" said the dark lord with distinct warning in his voice. "Besides, as you can see, this is becoming quite an eyesore."

Voldemort gestured to the large lump lying half-covered by a cloak in a dark corner of the cabin, and Lucius swallowed thickly, closing his eyes to keep from inadvertently shifting them in that direction. Nausea turned his stomach with a sharp stab, and his indifference slipped away briefly. After all, the boy had lain there dead for more than three months. Had it not been for the charm that he had cast to keep away insects and cover the odor of decay, the stench would have been unbearable.

Lucius forced himself to draw another breath. He'd never quite understood why the dark lord had taken the Creevey boy. "H…how long must he lie there, my lord?"

Voldemort turned a piercing glare Malfoy's way. "I've explained this to you, Lucius. I have plans for the body…or rather I did have plans. In a sense, they were accomplished long ago, were they not? I never needed this specific boy, he just happened to be at the right place at the proverbial right time. And he fits the description…" At a quick alarmed glance from Lucius, Voldemort managed a chuckle. "Yes Lucius. Even now I sense what you're thinking. You must get it."

"My lord, it's not so simple…It's such a dangerous and potentially harmful artifact that it's kept locked in the most private of places. Dumbledore's office has so many hidden alcoves and drawers that I fear it may be impossible to find it…"

Although the voice was coarse and high pitched as usual, Voldemort spoke with the smoothest and yet most dangerous of tones. "Now Lucius. You'd be surprised at what plans the mind can devise when the need arises…And I assure you. That need has most definitely arisen. Am I understood?"

Small hairs stood erect on the back of his neck, and Lucius nodded, pressing his already thin lips into a white line. "Yes, my lord."

"Excellent," the dark lord nodded. "Now tell me. Has anyone yet answered my call…"

"I placed the dark mark over Diagon Alley just as you instructed me, my lord. As of yet, I've had only a few responses from your faithful. Crabbe and Goyle, as always, are ready and able to be of service. Bullstrode and Zabini are also among their ranks."

Voldemort nodded briefly. "Many are still imprisoned in Azkaban, and as for the others, they will soon follow…if they do not, we'll simply eliminate them when the time comes. What of the dementors?"

"I spoke with one of their leaders," said Lucius with an elegant sneer. He despised the scabbed, grotesque creatures. "They are discussing an allegiance, but have not yet decided one way or the other. After all, they have always been neutral. It may take some convincing to sway them."

Voldemort dealt a chilling half-smile that made Malfoy shudder. "They will have all of the souls of the captives to feed on when the war is over; it will help reduce the annoying problem of prisoners. After all I imagine feeding off of the same ones day after day can get a bit tedious. That fact alone should be convincing enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Somehow, Lucius managed a feeble nod. In the back recesses of his mind, he tried to imagine being the kind of creature that could commiserate with dementors, but couldn't seem to wrap his thoughts around it. Even with his unencumbered view of the weak and the strong, those with power, and those meant to serve under it, Malfoy couldn't imagine being allied with such loathsome 'things'. And yet, here he was, about to do just that. But, Lucius sniffed pompously; they were a means to an end, weren't they? Just as everything else in his life had ever been. His job, and even his family…a means to obtain power.

"Yes my lord," said Lucius upon reflection, "I'll remind them of that fact should they decide to refuse our offer."

Voldemort had barely reflected on his answer when he continued on. "And now I have another task to add to your plate. I'll need a few other things from the school..."

When his master had finished with the list, Lucius felt almost overwhelmed. How in the hell did he expect him to be able to get the things he desired, despite how much they were needed? However, he began immediately steeling himself for the project. After all, he reminded himself, he had never been under the illusion that Voldemort's return to power would be easy. But whichever way it came, and in whatever package, he was riding to the top with him where he belonged…After all, he was a Malfoy.

******************************************

Professor DeVoncrey seemed none to eager to return to his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he understood that he was the only one qualified for the position. He'd also been informed of the school's inability thus far to hold on to teachers in his position and didn't deem it fair to abandon the students simply because he found the job stressful…and he did find it stressful.

In the first place, the Dark Arts were nothing to be trifled with. Sometimes, the only way to defend one's self against a dark curse was to use one and yet, the use of the dark arts made one susceptible to it's draw. Today in particular he was trying to hammer that fact into his pupil's young heads, but it seemed all they could think about was the up and coming Quidditch match concerning Slytherin and Gryffindor. It so happened that this particular class was made up of just those houses, which made it all the more difficult to make them pay attention. All they seemed to be able to do was whisper quietly amongst themselves about who was better, and these conversations kept causing small arguments all across the classroom.

Once again DeVoncrey thought to himself how wrong he had been in assuming that the English were a genteel and proper bunch. Well, at least by the standards he used to consider.

"You've gone completely round the twist," whispered a narrow-eyed Ron to Malfoy while DeVoncrey's back was turned, "Not only did Gryffindor beat the hell out of Slytherin last year, but we won the sodding house cup! I don't know what the bloody hell you're going on about…"

"Calm down Ron," said Harry quietly through his teeth, "He's just trying to egg you on…"

"Watch for those bludgers Friday scarhead…" sneered Malfoy, "They seem to have a thing for you. Remember second year?"

"Screw you," hissed Harry back. (Ron smiled…Calm down, indeed.) "That bludger was tampered with and you bloody well know it…Even so I still caught the snitch. All you caught was the ground at about fifty."

Hermione elbowed him and caught his eye. "Harry! You two need to be quiet; this is a very important lesson."

Ron sighed loudly enough for Draco, and unfortunately the professor, to hear. "She's right mate. We shouldn't let the ferret get to us. After all he's full of shit and he knows it."

Malfoy smirked magnificently. "No one like the weasel to recognize shit."

Finally, DeVoncrey had had enough. "Zat is enough, all of you! Monsieur Weasley 'az just cozt Gryffindor a total of twenty pointz today. Who'll make it zirty?" He looked at the Slytherin side. "Would any Zlytherin care to join ze point lozz game? Anyone?"

No one spoke. Ron was livid. If the professor had heard his comments then surely he'd heard Malfoy's. But at that moment his angry gaze fell on the blonde boy and he saw Malfoy hold up a piece of parchment for him to see with writing on it. 'Amicio vox'… The voice concealment spell. DeVoncrey hadn't heard a thing from the Slytherin side, sod it all to hell…

Ginny, who was sitting close by with Seamus only sat quietly, stealing small glances every now and then at the group. Still she had noticed however, that whenever Malfoy caught her eye his gaze softened, and lasted a little longer than was necessary. He also seemed to be sending Seamus particularly murderous glances for no reason. Hmm….

When she was sure Draco was looking, Ginny suddenly spilled ink on her textbook and looked down at the mess in mock horror, yelling loud enough for the whole class to hear.

"Oh no! Look what I did! Clumsy me…"

Ron frowned at her. She wasn't usually careless unless something was flustering her, but she had seemed to be paying a lot of attention to his, Harry's and Malfoy's conversation. She must've gotten upset at hearing Malfoy cause Gryffindor to lose points, and at her brother's expense, no doubt. Ron smiled indulgently at his sister and she smiled innocently back. Ginny…she was nothing if not loyal.

DeVoncrey sighed and closed his eyes. He was sure to need a visit to Madame Pomfrey after this class… "Mizz Weasley…do you need anuzzer book?"

Ginny smiled sweetly and began scooting closer to Seamus. "Oh no professor. I'm sure Seamus will share his with me."

When she was close enough that her side was touching Finnegan's, Ginny crossed her legs towards him and flipped her fiery red hair. She leaned over his book, sending him a smile that could have brightened midnight, and Seamus blushed crimson right up to his ears, grinning madly. Ginny made sure to brush his arm just so. She managed to steal a covert glance at Malfoy and saw that he had glued his steely gray gaze back onto his desk with a fierce determination. His expression changed not a bit, but his normally relaxed posture was completely rigid, and both hands were balled into tight fists.

Ginny sighed quietly and turned her attention back to the book she shared with Seamus. Sorry Draco, but you've managed to ignore me ever since school started. Time to play hard ball…

Only one other person near Ginny noticed what she was doing, and it was because she had considered doing it herself at one time, only to Harry. Being a female didn't hurt matters either. Hermione gazed at the back of Ginny's head and then glanced over to the very stiff form of Malfoy. A little smile played on her lips until Harry caught her hand and gave her a questioning smile. Merlin, were all boys this clueless? She quickly quashed the thoughts and squeezed his hand back, turning back to her lesson. Did it have to be Malfoy, though? Oh Ginny, thought Hermione, I hope you know what you're doing…

14. Chapter 14: Theft of the Time Turner

Chapter 14: Theft of the Time Turner

The fire in the Gryffindor common room blazed warmly, but only a few students were left downstairs to enjoy it, most having either retired for the night, or simply gone to their rooms to have private conversations.

As was usual for them, Harry and Ron were finishing their nightly chess game, a ritual that never failed to bore Hermione, or for that matter, Lavender completely rigid. Both girls had retreated hours ago; Hermione back to she and Harry's common room, and Lavender up to the seventh year girl's dorms. Hermione of course had gone to study on the next day's Potions lesson, even with Ron entreating her the whole way out with, "C'mon 'Mione, have a go! I'll be gentle!" and Lavender had retreated with Parvarti, giggling and gossiping about the kind of kisser her boyfriend was. If Ron had known, he would have burned with embarrassment, but at the moment he was too busy beating Harry to notice.

"Harry, how long've we been playing chess together?" Asked Ron leisurely as he moved his knight in a brilliant defensive gesture.

Harry frowned and looked up, obviously annoyed at the interruption in his concentration. "A fair amount of time…this would be the seventh year you prat; as if you didn't know. Why?"

Ron smiled cheekily as Harry made a bad move with his rook…A decidedly daft choice… "I just wondered," he began, leaning forward to capture Harry's queen, "How in the world after all this time you can still be so bad at it. Aw…Hard lines. Checkmate…mate."

Harry paused, pursing his lips and scanned the board with a frown. Finally he threw himself against the back of his chair with a decidedly frustrated "whump" and a glower.

"I don't know Ron, I guess you're just ruddy better than I am. Smarter too."

Ron nodded, satisfied. "So long as you know…"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione slipped her arms around his neck from behind and leaned around to plant a kiss on him, having just returned from studying.

"What…none for me?" Asked Ron with a smirk.

"Shut it, Ron." Hermione circled Harry's chair and sat on the couch between he and Ron, giving the latter a swat on the cheek.

"Quite." Harry favored him with a droll look but Ron chose to ignore it.

"Well a bloke has to get action somewhere."

"Hang on…Ron, I thought I was the only one you wanted 'action' from." Lavender rounded the couch and sat between he and Hermione, giving him a mock scowl. Ron smiled wickedly and threw his arm up behind her on the couch.

"You are. 'Mione's like my sister; there's absolutely no way I mean any of it…I just like to see her blush."

"I don't blush at anything you bang on about, Ron. I've heard it all before. Perhaps you should concentrate on being smart enough to get new material."

Hermione smiled triumphantly and leaned back, satisfied. Harry laughed heartily as his friend's grin steadily faltered.

"Checkmate…mate," he grinned cheshire-like. "You know, it's just as satisfying coming from Hermione. Imagine that…"

Ron scowled as even Lavender had to laugh at that but bit back a reply as the portrait door began to open.

"What in Merlin's name," began Lavender, sitting up a bit, "It's half past ten. Who would be out this late past curfew?"

Professor McGonnagol stepped through the portrait, thanking the Fat Lady for entrance and looking slightly ruffled and sleep deprived. She and the other heads of the houses had been in Dumbledore's office for the better part of three hours discussing the candidates for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and had finally come up with their lists. There had been much discussion about who would excel and who would, (with their limited knowledge of the future and of their student's leanings), most benefit from class, and with much discussion and many a revision, the house leaders had finally chosen their candidates. As the class would be starting within the next few days, the teachers needed their students to be prepared, and also to know which subject, or activity, they might be willing to drop, if needed, to accommodate the new class. Since there were few subjects that were optional, McGonnagol knew the choices would be tough for some. Especially for one student in particular who tended to want to take too many classes at once anyway, and for another who might find the class had more to offer than he might have anticipated…

Minerva favored Hermione with a smile as the students sat up a little straighter in acknowledgement of their professor. She found a portion of the couch to perch on and sat rather heavily with a tired sigh.

"Miss Granger, would you and Mr. Weasley please round up the sixth and seventh years and bring them down to the common room? I have an important announcement."

Hermione stiffened and clutched the small hourglass necklace hidden beneath her shirt. She had only just gotten it from Dumbledore earlier that morning, but had forgotten to take it off as of yet, and now suddenly remembered. "Oh professor, this isn't about what we talked about…I know the time turner can be dangerous but I promise I'll be just as careful with it as I was in second year…"

McGonnagol held up a patient hand. "Hermione, set your mind at ease. This has nothing to do with that. Now will you get the girls for me?"

With her posture relaxing once again, Hermione nodded and began to move around Harry's chair until his hand stopped her. Harry's face was set in frustration and disappointment. Why hadn't she told him?

" 'Mione," Harry half whispered to her, "I thought we talked about it. You were under a fair amount of stress before. The time turner…"

"Mr. Potter," began McGonnagol in a stern but tired voice. "It's been a terribly long day. Do you think you could have your discussion at a later date?"

Harry looked sheepish and dropped Hermione's hand. "Of course professor. Sorry."

Hermione widened her eyes in warning at him, at the same time giving him an apologetic glance and headed toward the stairs. After a few minutes of scuffle and shuffling down the stairs, the common room was full again with students, some rumpled and half asleep, others simply in pajamas, and still others had not yet changed for bed. McGonnagol settled back into her seat and brought out the list she and the other professors had made, unfolding her glasses and perching them on the end of her long nose.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you all at such a late time, but the other professors and I have only just gotten our lists made for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, and I wanted to make sure you all knew as soon as possible who had been chosen to join. Of course as you know, this class is strictly on a voluntary basis, so if you have been chosen and do not wish to join, you only need to let it be known, and your name will be stricken from the list, no questions asked."

McGonnagol looked up over the rim of her small square glasses and caught not a few faces full of excitement and expectation. Hermione Granger, standing behind Potter, was practically dancing on the balls of her feet.

"As I call your names, please remain for further instructions to be given on the time and date of the class…Lavender Brown," Lavender squealed and threw her arms around her best mate, Parvarti. "Colin Creevey," Colin lowered his head morosely and took a small step back from the crowd as if wishing he were invisible. "Seamus Finnegan, Hermione Granger," Seamus gave Dean and Neville a grin, and Hermione squeezed Harry's shoulder so much it hurt, beaming down at he and Ron. "Neville Longbottom," despite his newer improved self, Neville had not expected in a million years to be chosen and turned an almost transparent shade of white. Dean clapped him soundly on the back. "Parvarti Patil," she squealed much like her counterpart, "Harry Potter," Ron and Hermione beamed at him. "Dean Thomas, and Ronald Weasley." The remaining two received claps on the back, and Hermione turned to look all around her.

"That's all of us! At least all of the sixth years…I wonder why…"

McGonnagol gave her a slight look of reproof, and Hermione stopped suddenly, pressing her lips together sheepishly. The professor continued with the seventh years, most of whom they had met but didn't know very well, and finally sighed and rolled up the parchment, placing it back inside her robes.

"Now then. Your first class will start on Monday, and will begin after your last class ends at three…" Immediately groans of protest began around the group. McGonnagol cleared her throat with meaning and looked up at them above her glasses.

"As I have stated before, this is a strictly voluntary class. I know there are several of you who have extra class loads this year and had already had that time slot filled, so you will have to decide whether or not to drop your current class. Anyone not wishing to join needs simply to let me know. However, I would like to stress the importance of these classes…especially to some."

Harry saw McGonnagol give him a plainly undisguised glance and gave her a very slight nod. He knew the look, and the reason.

"As I was saying," she began again, "You will move immediately to the Astronomy Tower, room four after your last class where you will meet Professor Lupin. You will need no books or parchment, you need only to bring your wand…"

"No books?" muttered Hermione in disappointment. On the couch in front of her, Harry squelched a smile.

"The class should last no more than an hour, so those of you who have chosen to play Quidditch should have no worries making it to the pitch for practice. That's all I have unless there are any questions."

Of course immediately around her, the professor was deluged with questions ranging from how hard would the class be to what kinds of things would be taught, so the students who seemed to need nothing further began to get up and move away. Harry had begun to get up as well, but McGonnagol's restraining hand stopped him.

"Harry, a moment please. I need to discuss something with you before I leave."

Harry frowned questioningly at her, but dropped back into his seat on the couch.

Many questions and discussions later, the students had finally had their fill of information, and even Hermione had run out of things to ask. They all began to drift back upstairs, and with a small peck on his cheek, Hermione left Harry to talk to McGonnagol and made her way out of the portrait door and down the hallway towards the Head Boy and Girl's dorm.

McGonnagol turned her attention back to Potter, who was sitting slumped a little wearily on the couch a little to the right of her.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're tired, but this won't take long."

Harry sat up a little straighter out of respect and blinked tiredly as she continued.

"Harry, Professor Lupin has asked that he be given extra time with you specifically at the end of each lesson for more intensive training."

Harry sat up even more in surprise and frowned. "Me? Why? Doesn't he think the Advanced DADA class is enough?"

McGonnagol closed her eyes briefly and nodded in deference to his question. "Apparently he thinks you, more than any of the others might benefit from knowing all you can to defend yourself. Of course I, along with Professor Dumbledore am inclined to agree. I would think you would be as well."

"Well of course but what about Ron and Hermione?" asked Harry a bit more forcefully than he had intended to. He bit his top lip and settled back a bit. "I'm sorry professor, but what I mean is, a fair amount of the troubles I get into with Vol…I'm sorry, him, involve them as well. Don't you and Lupin think it would be wise for them to have the extra training as well?"

McGonnagol raised an eyebrow at him. "That's Professor Lupin, Harry and yes, I would be inclined to agree with you. But Remus has had a meeting with the Headmaster and he wishes to meet with you only after each class. Apparently he intends to teach you about something extra that only you are to partake in."

McGonnagol leaned forward as if to make certain that only she and Harry were hearing the conversation. "Harry, if ever you were to take my advice, or the Headmasters for that matter, take it now. Take the extra instruction. Remus Lupin is one of the most powerful wizards in the Order of the Phoenix. If he says he wants extra time with you to show you even more ways to defend yourself, you can be sure that he won't waste your time."

Harry blinked a couple of times at McGonnagol before sighing and nodding his head. He knew it would be stupid of him not to take the extra training in DADA when it was offered him, but his time seemed so limited as it was. What with O.W.L.s and Quidditch, and N.E.W.T.s were next year…all he wished for was a time when he wasn't so busy and stressed. Some time for just a little relaxation and a reprieve from the threat of Voldemort for that matter…

"All right professor, I'll do it."

McGonnagol nodded once, satisfied. "I think you'll find you've made the right decision, Potter…"

A high-pitched terrified scream erupted from outside the common room and down the hall, and brought Harry abruptly back from his thoughts and onto his feet in an instant, his wand drawn and out to his side. An icy chill clutched at his heart and his gaze immediately shot to the one person still sitting near him.

McGonnagol had jumped almost a foot in that instant and had drawn her wand with lightning fast reflexes that almost seemed too agile for a witch her age. "What in Merlin's name…" she puffed.

A voice was heard faintly screaming somewhere out in the corridors. "No, DON'T! Stay away! G..Get back!"

A couple of curses, thrown at the same time and the sounds of a short wand fight ensued, and then there was nothing.

Harry froze in that instant, a look of utter horror coming over his face. Oh my god…

Ron had stumbled down the stairs, harried and in his nightclothes, along with a dozen other Gryffindors, all with wild eyes, and with wands out just as the sounds stopped.

"What the bloody h…Harry, that sounded like…"

"Hermione…" Harry breathed. He reacted with maddening speed, adrenaline powering his legs. It seemed to take him only a fraction of a second to reach the portrait door and fling it open, Ron in close pursuit behind him.

McGonnagol turned swiftly to the students behind her moving curiously closer to the portrait door. "No one is to leave this common room, understood? Mr. Hampton, I'll leave you in charge."

Fillius Hampton, a tall seventh year nodded once and watched as Professor McGonnagol hurried out of the portrait door, letting it slam shut behind her.

Harry's heart pounded like a machine gun as he ran, his eyes searching frantically for Hermione. Thankfully the Head Boy and Girl's rooms weren't far away, having been situated between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses, and his frenzied thoughts were to head there first to look for her. The cry hadn't seemed that far away…

Only a few turns of the corner later, and Harry saw far ahead of him, the nightmarish image of Hermione, lying slumped on the floor of the corridor, just a few feet away from their shared common room. As their common room was between Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and there were no other rooms between them save theirs, no one had yet come to her aid. No…god no…

Feverishly, he forced his legs to pump even faster and reached her with a frustrated cry, throwing himself to his knees beside her even as Ron came pounding up behind him, puffing and wheezing for air. Harry had already gathered her into his arms and was now swiping tangled hair from her face, fighting to control his breathing as he was dangerously close to hyperventilating. He placed his fingers on her neck quickly and felt his body slump in relief as he felt the steady beat of her pulse. But she still wasn't moving. Her clothes were covered in ash and the back of her head seemed to have taken a nasty knock as Harry felt the distinct stickiness of blood between his fingers. He was abruptly reminded of a situation too similar for comfort only last year only this time it was inside the school…

" 'Mione…'Mione please…" Harry placed a trembling hand on her cheek.

Ron slumped to his knees beside them. "Mate, is she…Mate! Look at me! Is she alive? Is she?"

Harry turned to look at Ron as if he had only just noticed that he had been behind him the entire time and blinked a couple of times before he spoke. "She's alive…but hurt. We need to get her to Madame Pomfrey right now."

McGonnagol, completely out of breath gasped and came to an abrupt halt as she saw Harry and Ron on their knees a few meters ahead of her, Harry cradling Hermione in his lap. She bustled over to them at once and shoved between them, kneeling down and placing her hands on Hermione's head.

"Mr. Potter, let me see…Let me see!"

Harry turned more toward his professor and McGonnagol gasped again as one of her hands came away sticky and wet with blood. It was then, while the professor cradled Hermione's head for him for a moment, that Harry noticed that the time turner that had been around Hermione's neck was gone. He thought for a moment to mention it immediately, but thought better of it in a second. The most important thing first was to get Hermione to the infirmary.

McGonnagol stood briskly, her wand still out, and scanned the area around her as if Ron and Harry hadn't already, quickly turning her attention once again back to the three.

"Harry, Ronald, bring Ms. Granger with you and follow me immediately."

Harry stood with a small grunt, cradling Hermione carefully in his arms and taking care to let her injured head fall gently on his shoulder before he and Ron followed McGonnagol at a brisk pace towards the infirmary.

15. Chapter 15: Time for Truth

Chapter 15: It's Time He Knows the Truth…

A/N: Oh no! I've made a few mistakes… Somehow in my muddled thinking I reverted back to thinking that my story had them in sixth year (see last chapter)…But I meant to have them in seventh…I'm so sorry for the confusion if anyone caught that! Anyway, having finished OotP, I realize that my story (I was already way into it when OotP came out) might not follow JKR's vision, so Oh well… Anyway enjoy!

Breathless and almost faint with worry, McGonnagol, Ron, and Harry carrying Hermione burst through the infirmary doors to abruptly awaken Poppy Pomfrey as she dozed on one of the patient cots. Pomfrey often found herself out like a light, awakening deep into the early hours of the morning as she frequently fell asleep before making her way to her own quarters situated just off the left side of the medical wing. It was times such as this that made her damn glad she had decided to wait around a bit longer, although the trip to her room would have been a short one.

Harry, almost tearful in his misery, immediately rounded the cot to her right and carefully laid Hermione down, still cradling her head as if afraid that even the pillow might be too hard for it. Pomfrey jumped up, keenly embarrassed to have been caught sleeping outside of her quarters again, but came round quickly at the sight of the injured student and even more so owing to who it was.

"Merlin's ghost," she gasped coming round her bed and leaning down to begin checking Hermione. She fixed Harry and Ron with baleful glares. "What in the blazes of hell have you two been up to now!? It isn't enough you seem to have a knack at being in the wrong place at the wrong time…you have to bloody well continue right through your last year…"

"They had nothing to do with it Poppy," McGonnagol spoke up firmly. "Ms. Granger was apparently headed back to she and Mr. Potter's dorms when we heard the beginnings of a wand fight. We found her only minutes later."

Poppy had just then placed her hand on the back of Hermione's head and heard the girl emit her first moan. She jumped at the sound, and then gasped and jumped again as her hand came away warm and gluey with blood.

"Merlin's beard…I thought she seemed a bit peaky!" Pomfrey laid the girl's head back gently and shooed Harry and Ron away from the bed before drawing curtains around it to thoroughly check out her patient.

After finding only the large welt to the head, along with a few bruises, her body visibly relaxed with relief and smiling reassuringly to McGonnagol, she opened the curtains again, allowing the two boys to return to their friend's bedside.

"Just a little bruising round the back and shoulders where she's fallen, but she'll be rather sore and peaky for a while. There's only one thing for it. She'll have to stay in bed for a few days until she's well enough to get about on her own. Potter, I suppose you and Mr. Weasley'll be good enough to bring Ms. Granger her lessons? She'll be wanting those…"

Harry and Ron nodded their assent, eyes glued to Hermione the whole time, and Pomfrey whirled around summoning the medications needed for the treatment of head trauma from the supply closet. She tossed the wand back onto the bed beside her and turned Granger onto her back.

Weasley, McGonnagol noticed, was jigging nervously on the balls of his feet, making small moves with his hands as if wanting desperately to help.

His counterpart however squatted down, almost as still and silent as a tomb; motionless except for a hand stroking Hermione's hair. He stayed at eye level with her; a stricken look mixed with determined fury twisting his features. He began muttering nonsensical things, but some of his ramblings seemed aimed at the invisible person who had done this.

Harry's quiet whispering, though obviously filled with emotion, somehow came out almost cold and dead. I'll find whoever it is, 'Mione…I'll find whoever did this to you. God help the bloke when I do…

McGonnagol chose that moment to let her eyes wander over toward a nearby window and caught the sudden faint glow of a mysterious red light from somewhere above the point of the horizon that she could see. Unseen by her, Harry grabbed at his scar at the same time, feeling it begin to burn. She frowned in curiosity despite the situation at hand and opened her mouth to speak to them, but Hermione moaned a second time and her eyes fluttered moistly open. Needless to say all attention was diverted at that moment.

Harry had dropped from his squatting position to his knees and was now staring wide-eyed at the girl, both hands on either side of her face, and Ron had dropped to his knees as well, gripping Hermione's hand like a lifeline.

When the girl finally did come round, her eyes were glazed over with fear as if somehow she was still back in the hallway facing her attacker.

"No…Stay away from me!" Hermione pulled away from Harry and wrenched her right hand from Ron's grasp, making a grabbing motion as if for her wand. When her hand found nothing but bed sheets, she screamed inarticulately again and sat up suddenly, scrambling backward from them all like a terrified animal. She stopped, pressed against the headboard of her bed.

Harry, shocked and completely distressed, murmured her name and reached his hands out to her but she shrieked hysterically again and slapped them away. He returned them almost uselessly to his side before bringing them up to rest claw-like against his forehead, peering anguished between his fingers at her.

Open-mouthed, McGonnagol stepped up to intervene but waited at a motion from Weasley.

Ron had blanched. "Hermione…it's us. Don't be afraid…" He reached a hand out to her as well before being treated in much the same way. Hermione attempted to make herself part of the headboard by crouching as closely as possible to it, wrapping her arms around her knees and keening in a low whimpering tone. Her eyes were round and wide with fear and held no recognition in them.

Ron felt a shiver run through his whole body at her expression and returned his hands to his side, his stunned gaze traveling inevitably to Harry.

Harry, for his part, was utterly stricken. His heart gave a painful stab with every panicky cry from Hermione even as Madame Pomfrey tried to calm and soothe her. His shaggy hair, messy at best, was completely disheveled by now from the number of times he had clawed a hand through it and brought it back down to chew distraughtly on his knuckles.

McGonnagol, with a startled face and a gaze full of worry stepped forward again towards Pomfrey. "Poppy, what's happened…Why is she reacting like that!? She's known these two for seven years…"

Pomfrey waved a hand at the Professor to silence her for a moment, and raised her wand towards Hermione, speaking a quiet calming spell over her. It finally succeeded in soothing the girl enough so that she could disentangle her from the ball of limbs and bed sheets she had become.

Hermione relaxed and closed her eyes momentarily, touching a hand to her head gingerly and shaking it as if trying to clear away the fogginess. When she opened her eyes, slowly, clear recognition shone in them once again, along with a wince of pain.

"Ron, Professor McGonnagol…Harry."

The last name was spoken in a broken whisper, and Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hand came up quickly to grip the shirt over his chest as if his heart had just started beating once again and he dropped onto the bed beside her, gently taking her into his arms, oblivious to the few tears that had fallen down his face.

After a few moments of crushing him to her, Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron trying to sniff back obvious signs of tears, and she smiled, lifting one hand from Harry's back to beckon to him.

Ron dropped his shoulders wearily and sat on the bed beside them, hugging them both gratefully as well.

She knew the events of last year had brought the three even closer together than they had been; yet Minerva hadn't expected to see such affection so openly displayed. The surprise and tenderness of it tugged at her chest almost painfully. Deciding rather quickly to keep up her usual pretense of sternness, McGonnagol quickly swiped at her cheeks and turned to Pomfrey deliberately steadying her voice, although it took some work.

"Wh…Why didn't she recognize them straight away?"

"The mind sometimes has a strange way of protecting itself, Minerva," sighed a relieved Pomfrey, gazing at the three. "I think she also took quite a harder lump to the head than I realized. But I had hoped once she was calmed she might start to think more clearly." She sighed again, but more out of tiredness than anything else.

"Just as a precaution though, I'll need her to stay awake for the next twenty-four hours or so…possible concussion and all. I'm sure you wouldn't mind letting Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley sort that job between them."

Ron and Harry, who had finally done hugging Hermione, looked at each other with Ron immediately recognizing the look on Potter's face. He smiled tiredly at him.

"No worries mate, I love my bed you know. Besides, Ginny and Lavender are probably in a right state by now and if I don’t get back to tell them everything's all right I reckon there'll be a huge row. Don't really care as far as Ginny's concerned but Lav…Well, you know…"

Harry smiled at him. "Git. I know you care about Ginny as well. Go on then, I'll see you tomorrow night I expect."

"Right." Ron smiled cheekily at them, leaned down to give Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, and began striding toward the door.

He got no closer to it than Professor McGonnagol did when Dumbledore, clad in a dressing gown and nightcap, but looking despite his dress every bit the powerful wizard he was, almost plowed through the door, wand in hand and locked gazes with the Transfiguration teacher.

"Minerva, how is Ms. Granger?" He asked rather hastily.

McGonnagol, slightly taken aback at the headmaster's tone spoke up hesitantly. "She'll be all right, with proper rest and attention…Only a nasty bump to the head and some bruises…"

"Fine, fine…" said Dumbledore, and despite his tone he did look relieved. His next words however cleared everything for them all. "I'll need you to come with me straight away then."

McGonnagol looked past Dumbledore and saw Professor Snape, along with Binns, Vector, Sprout, Trelawny (looking decidedly owlish), Hagrid, Flitwick and Lupin, all in various states of dress, and all with wands out.

McGonnagol swallowed harshly as Pomfrey hurried over to join them and Harry stood slowly from Hermione's bed, her hand still clasped in his.

"What is it Albus?"

Dumbledore continued. "Have you seen out the window?"

"No, I haven't, not really. I've only just had the chance to breathe what with all this, although I did notice a reddish glow…"

"It's the dark mark, Minerva."

McGonnagol gasped and faltered for a brief moment, steadied by Ron, before grabbing her wand in a swift motion and hurriedly moving to follow Dumbledore and the rest.

No one noticed Harry however. He took one brief look at Hermione, dropped her hand and whipped his wand out from the back of his jeans. A sudden wave of rage surged through his body like an electrical current, and it only took a fleeting heartbeat or two for him to make up his mind. Only one thought radiated like an emotion throughout his entire body. Go.

Panic zinged through Hermione in an instant as Harry dropped her hand and lashed out his wand. She'd seen that look too many times… "Harry, NO. Don't go…" She made a grab for his arm but was too late. "NO, HARRY!"

He was gone in an instant, furiously tearing through the room with the force and speed of a madman. He whipped and shoved past Ron, Dumbledore and through the crowd of professors who tried futilely to grab at him.

" 'Arry, don' you go runnin' out there!" Yelled Hagrid, swiping at him with a giant hand. Harry easily ducked under it.

"Harry, stop right now!" Screamed Remus Lupin as he ran after him. He managed to grab onto his arm, but Harry tore it from his grasp and continued running, even as the professor made grabbing motions at him. The younger man was ultimately too fast and he charged down the hall and out of sight, his hair blowing back from his forehead and his scar twinging and throbbing an angry red.

"Damn it!" Yelled a frustrated Lupin.

He and the others immediately ran after him, with Pomfrey staying behind to keep a struggling Ron, and an angry, petrified Hermione, who was trying unsuccessfully to scramble out of bed, at bay. She finally succeeded, but only by threatening to petrify both of them with her wand.

**********************************

Harry pounded wildly down the hallways, his breathing hitched and uneven and his thoughts tumbling madly out of control. He finally made it to the huge front double doors of the school and, not even pausing for a breath, hurled himself against one of them and forced it open. Immediately, he took an attack stance and lit the tip of his wand.

He found himself surrounded with darkness, complete and unbroken. It was as if the moon and stars had been blown out, and nothing was left but a dense black hole where the school grounds had once been. A frigid breeze blew softly and eerily about him, but did nothing towards blowing aside whatever cloud cover must be obliterating the light from the moon and stars.

Harry felt an unaccountable chill creep over him, and looked up to see the dark mark, painted in a hazy red, marring the otherwise black sky above him. Another message in Latin was written beneath it this time, and the snake protruding from the jaw of the skull had now slithered downward a bit, it's fanged mouth open and smiling as if pleased with the words. 'Tempus id est propinguo'…

The chill surrounding Harry was almost antarctic now, but he ignored it and threw his wand arm out before him, twisting and turning in a mad dance in all directions to find whoever had done this. When he began screaming the voice that came out was hardly recognizable as his own. It dripped with corrosive hatred and cracked with rage.

"Come out! Come out, DAMMIT! Face me!" His voice sounded strangely hollow and without echo, as if he were speaking from inside a box. He whipped violently around once again, his eyes searching the darkness furiously. He surged forward again but his gaze met nothing but blackness.

"It's me you want, isn't it!? Well here I am! Let's finish this! NO MORE GAMES YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Harry!"

Lupin was the first to crash out of the double doors, followed closely by Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Hagrid and the rest of the professors, all (except for Hagrid) with wands out, and looks of complete shock on their faces. They all moved to rush forward as one, but Dumbledore only needed to raise a hand to stop them. Harry continued screaming into nothingness as if he hadn't even noticed them, whirling and turning in all directions and looking by all accounts, murderous.

"Remus." Dumbledore spoke quietly, but with his usual air of complete authority and motioned Lupin forward, leaving more than one professor completely baffled. But although they didn't understand his decision, every one abided by it. Only Snape looked decidedly livid. He for one had hoped to finally get the chance to use his wand on Potter, even if it meant a simple stunning spell.

Dumbledore lit his wand with a 'Lumos' as did the rest, and led the group down the steps and into the blackness to search for the perpetrator, even though he was sure whoever it was would be long gone by now.

Lupin approached Harry cautiously. It seemed the young man was dangerously close to losing complete control, and he wanted neither himself nor Harry getting hurt.

Harry continued running in different directions, in a state of extreme agitation. He'd never remembered being this eager for a fight, never remembered wanting something so much as to flay Voldemort open and hang him by his own entrails. In his mind, his thoughts kept coming back to one undeniable fact. He'd had enough. No more hiding…no more waiting for the dark lord to strike. He wanted this over with…and he wanted it NOW.

"Come on out you COWARDLY BASTARD! Here's your real target!…No more hiding, no more banging on about destiny or any of that other SHIT…You want a final war!? You've got one…"

"Harry, stop…" Lupin moved forward a bit, but still not too close, and Harry finally whirled around to notice him. The expression on his face changed a little at seeing one of his professors, but the tenseness, and his attack posture changed not a bit.

"Stop what!?" Harry yelled, "Stop the inevitable!? This is what he wants professor, why not give it to him!?"

"And accomplish what, exactly?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and his expression turned stony and cold. "I don’t know. All I know is that I have to stop this…He's hurting everyone I care about and I won't stand for it anymore! This…w..with Hermione…I just can't…I won't…It's not going to happen again…I won't let it."

The naked grief in Harry's face, the thought of all he'd had to endure in his young life, a life that should have been carefree thus far was almost more than Lupin could bear. He began to reach a hand out to the younger man but stopped abruptly as Harry flinched back, a look of slight confusion in his eyes. Lupin pulled back, a bit hurt although he knew he had no right to be. Maybe, soon…

"Harry, I understand. Perhaps more than you know…"

"HOW THE HELL COULD YOU!?" yelled Harry in frustration. "Are you talking about my parents!?" Lupin blanched. "That quite possibly was a little harder on me than you, don't you think?"

Lupin opened his mouth to speak but no words would form. If you only knew, Harry…If you only knew…

As Harry spoke, the sound of echolessness, like being inside an enclosed space, only served to compound the eerie, stricken look on his professor's face. As he gazed on the man, confusion set in deep. What was with him? As if he had any idea what Harry was feeling…No. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now but killing Voldemort.

Harry shook his head as if to rid himself of all distracting thoughts. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters…I don't matter. Nothing else is important right now, I just need to find him and you're distracting me, so if you don't mind…" He turned away from Lupin.

"Distracting you!? Lupin almost yelled, grabbing hold of Harry's arm and missing the look of warning the boy shot him. "Let's not forget who's the professor and who's the student! And what the hell do you mean, 'you don't matter'!? You…of course you…Harry…whoever did this is long gone by now. Besides that fact, you aren't yet ready to face him…"

"Not ready to face him!?" scoffed Harry in disbelief. "Professor I've been steadily facing him all my life. How much more ready can I be!?"

Lupin tensed his jaw. "You don’t understand. Something else happened tonight. Something neither you or Professor McGonnagol yet know about as you weren't there."

Harry dropped his wand arm finally. The professor obviously wasn't going to let him be. "What is it…"

"Not here," said Lupin, grabbing Harry's arm and leading him back towards the castle doors. "Inside. Believe me when I say, Harry that you aren't yet ready to face him."

Harry took his arm back from Lupin's grasp, but followed him inside anyway. When the doors had closed behind them and the professor turned to face him, Harry noticed that he had paled to an even whiter shade than before. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he seemed to have aged ten years in the amount of time it had taken for the two of them to walk inside. And was that a trace of tears in his eyes? What the bloody hell…

"Harry, what I have to tell you…Well, suffice it to say that it won't be easy. Not for me to say, or for you to understand. I…I don't expect you to forgive me. Not for a long time, but please believe me when I say that what was done was done for your own good. For your protection…"

Harry felt the color draining from his face as well and felt a slight tinge of panic. Whatever the professor was trying to tell him…Well it seemed the man would rather be any place than where he was at this moment, and Harry had the distinct feeling that his life was about to change. Nevertheless, he'd never been known for his patience…

"Professor, please. I don't need you to candy-coat anything for me. All I want is the bloody truth. It's all I've ever wanted."

Lupin nodded and swallowed harshly. However, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore, followed by the rest of the professors, pushed open the double doors and strode inside, looking angry and defeated. Lupin looked only a little relieved.

"Headmaster…any news?"

Dumbledore nodded once to the other teachers, who all took the movement to mean that he would meet with them later. As they dispersed, he walked over to Lupin and Harry, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Whoever attacked Ms. Granger and left the Dark Mark has long since disappeared, I'm afraid Remus; as I suspected he would. However, I have a good idea of who it might have been."

Both Harry and Lupin decided to let the matter that had been at hand rest for the moment and looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

"I believe Lucius Malfoy was here earlier today on 'official Ministry business'. I left him with Argus (Filch) as he prepared to leave. But I'm afraid after having been missing for several hours, our caretaker was only just discovered unconscious in one of the broom closets on the fifth floor by Mrs. Norris. As fate would have it, Mrs. Norris was able to quite effectively 'sniff' out her master, much to his fortune."

Harry's hands began to shake uncontrollably with rage, and he quickly balled them into fists. Once again he was consumed with wrath, but instead of yelling, his voice was low with loathing. "I knew he was a bastard. I don't understand why something wasn't done with him two years ago…"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Harry," said Dumbledore wisely. "A wizard cannot be convicted without evidence."

Lupin nodded, and Harry clawed a hand roughly through his hair in frustration, causing it to stand up in all directions. But suddenly, Harry remembered something he should have remembered to tell the headmaster much earlier. My god…

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, "When we found Hermione earlier…I meant to tell Professor McGonnagol but what with 'Mione lying there in that state…" he shuddered. "The time turner…Lucius Malfoy must've taken it. When she left the common room it was round her neck, but when we found her in the hallway, it was gone."

Dumbledore grimaced, and Lupin shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand what Malfoy, or Voldemort would want with the time turner. It can't be used any farther back than two years…"

Dumbledore held up a weathered hand. "I'm sure his plan will be revealed soon, if the warning he left for us out there is any indicator…Unfortunately, it will do no good to inform the Ministry as Fudge refuses to believe Voldemort has returned, and he certainly wouldn't turn on his wealthiest supporter…"

For the first time in all of his years at Hogwarts, Harry heard a hint of cynicism in the Headmaster's voice. He'd seen the headmaster upset, even angry, which was an awesome sight to behold in and of itself, but never as mistrusting as he seemed now. It seemed times were definitely changing…

Lupin turned to the younger man. "Harry, about what we were discussing," Lupin glanced fleetingly at Dumbledore, who glanced at the two above his half-moon lenses. "I believe the Headmaster will agree with me that it's now time that you understand. That you're told everything."

A few moments of undisturbed silence passed between Dumbledore and Lupin, and Harry grew increasingly frustrated. It was as if the Headmaster and Lupin were holding some sort of mental conversation. Are you sure? It's time he knew… I think you're right… But how much should he know? All of it Ja…

"PLEASE!" yelled Harry finally, "Whatever it is, I deserve to know. I NEED to know. If you were holding information from me because you thought I was too young to hear it, I’m bloody well grown up enough now."

Dumbledore smiled thinly, sadly at Harry, and Lupin turned his gaze to him, regarding him with something resembling…Pride?

Dumbledore gently clapped a hand on Harry's back and led him along as the three walked. "We'll talk in my office, Harry. It is finally time you understood everything."

A/N: I know by now you all want to hang me for the cliffhanger but believe me when I say that I had to leave it there. I'm going to post the next chapter really soon, and all will be revealed, so stay tuned!!! :0) And please be kind and review. I really live for the comments!

16. Chapter 16: All Is Revealed

Chapter 16: All Is Revealed

A/N: Ok campers, here's the chapter where many, MANY secrets are revealed to Harry. Some of them are from my own imagination, some of them (I must give credit where it's due) are from a book called, "The Ultimate Unofficial Guide to the Mysteries of Harry Potter". It's not authorized by JKR or anything like that, it's just a few people's speculations on what could be going on in the stories. So be warned, there could be spoilers in here, or they could be completely wrong, it all depends on how right I or the book I just described is! Also, I realize that the "secrets" I reveal in here may baffle some people, might piss some off, or might make you say, "yeah right." Don't flame me please! It's just my take on my own story! Anyhoo, I hope the majority of you enjoy it, and I hope it makes you think and go, "Hmm, I wonder…" If so, I've done my job right! If you read parts of this chapter that are all in italics, that means that it's a memory. Anyway, happy reading! And do please review!

As Dumbledore sat down opposite Harry and a decidedly pale Remus Lupin, Harry reminisced about all the other times he'd visited the Headmaster's office. It seemed at times when Harry or his friends were in danger, at the times when Harry was in need most of advice, a confidant, or someone who believed in him, he always ended up in this office, opposite the Headmaster. Dumbledore's office had always represented a sort of safe haven for Harry, a place where he could voice his fears, and a place where he would be heard, believed, and taken seriously. As a result, the huge round room had always held a warm, secure place in his heart. It had even at times, represented what he imagined his mother and father's home to be.

But somehow, this night, Harry felt no warmness or sense of security. In fact he felt cold and overwhelmingly alone. This night, already, Dumbledore and Lupin had revealed that they had kept even more secrets from him than he originally thought. He'd thought that everything had been revealed in his fifth year, after being told of the prophecy involving himself and Voldemort. Now apparently, the conspiracy continued. At least that's how it felt to Harry. And by god if Lupin especially didn't look particularly guilty tonight…

Lupin shifted a bit in his chair, and seemed unable to meet Harry's steady, almost accusatory gaze. "Harry…I just have to…I want to stress again that everything that has been kept from you has been done for your own protection. Please believe me when I say that for years…for so many years, I've been torn by wanting to tell you…t..to tell you…"

Lupin seemed to be struggling to continue, so Dumbledore spoke up. "Harry, I wish there were an easier way to begin…"

"I'm not looking for easy, Professor. Just the truth."

Harry's words held a sting in them that both Lupin and Dumbledore seemed to feel, and Harry's face wore the ghost of a tight smile. They deserved it…

Dumbledore steepled his fingers together in front of his face and sighed. No better place to begin than at the beginning… "Harry, have you ever wondered why your parents lived in an area known as 'Godric's Hollow'?"

Harry sat back for the ride and knit his brows together in confusion. "I…not really, I…guess I thought more about what went on there than the name."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Godric Gryffindor owned that land, and passed it on from generation to generation. So…When your father's father died…He inherited it."

Lupin continued to stare at the floor, and Harry for his part, looked appropriately stunned. Immediately in his mind, he recalled the day that he'd bought his first and only wand from Ollivander's. When he'd touched it, hadn't it shot out red and gold sparks? Those couldn't be Gryffindor's colors for nothing…And now, the fact that his parents had lived at Godric's Hollow…

"Professor, are you telling me that my father was Godric Gryffindor's heir?"

Dumbledore nodded and Lupin gave a small grunt of agreement. "And as a result…now, that honor belongs to you."

Lupin finally looked up from the hole he'd been staring into the carpet. "Harry, remember in the Chamber of Secrets when you pulled Godric's sword from the Sorting Hat…Only Godric's true heir could do that…"

Harry sat up and shook his head vehemently. "No…Headmaster," he began uncertainly, "You told me only someone who had truly remained faithful to you could have pulled the sword from the hat…"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes I did, Harry. And in a way, that is true, for Fawkes would never have brought you the sorting hat for you to retrieve the sword from, if not for your loyalty to me."

Harry set his jaw and nodded. "So, I'm Gryffindor's heir. That might explain Voldemort's hatred of me…"

Lupin looked down now and spoke with a voice hoarse with regret. "There's more." He took a moment to compose his voice and continued. "Harry, your powers…well…there's a reason you're so powerful, and it's not what you think."

Harry looked up and felt his heart begin to flutter with unease. "Professor Dumbledore explained it to me!" He looked to the headmaster with a tinge of betrayal on his face. "You said that the night Voldemort tried to kill me he transferred some of his powers to me!"

"I told you the truth, Harry. I just left out a few things…and only because it was necessary at the time."

Lupin sat up in his chair, and for the first time since entering the Headmaster's office, Harry looked directly into his now red-rimmed eyes. It was clear whatever secrets he'd been holding for so long had taken their toll. Could it be that there'd been more than being a werewolf that had kept him sickly and pale for all these years?

Remus sighed, a deep, soul-wrenching whoosh. "I suppose it's best to start at the beginning." Harry steeled himself. "I'm sure you know about Tom Riddle's life before Hogwarts, Harry. How his mother, a witch, died in childbirth, and how his father, being Muggle, disowned the boy after finding out her secret." Harry nodded. "Good," continued Lupin, "Then you understand that Hogwarts was the only home Tom had ever really known. When his father disowned him, Tom was sent to live in a wizard's orphanage until his eleventh birthday, when Professor Dumbledore, then the Transfiguration teacher, took pity on him, and offered to pay for his education at the school. He also generously gave Tom the opportunity to live at the school during holidays and summers instead of returning to the orphanage. Tom gratefully accepted, and was one of the brightest students in the school. But he'd always felt something was missing…something well beyond the need for a home, a mother, a father…Tom, I guess, needed to find out who he was, where he belonged.

When he'd joined the school, the sorting hat had immediately put him in Slytherin, so Dumbledore and I suspect that he felt the history of Salazar Slytherin would be a good place to start. And considering Salazar's history, and his hatred of muggle-borns, the book Tom needed was of course in the restricted section of the library. Tom already knew of his mother's heritage and knew he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin as nothing was kept from him at the orphanage. He learned after much secret studying that Salazar's family had consistently produced only one heir to keep bloodlines pure, and to keep power struggles from happening. Aberdeen Slytherin had been something of a rebel in her family. She'd married a Muggle, an unforgivable thing, and as a result, was cursed the day she gave birth to Tom and died from it."

Harry let his back hit the chair behind him and let out a short breath, but Lupin wasn't through.

"Tom decided he wanted to carry on Salazar Slytherin's work…to rid the school of all Muggle-borns. It was all he had to hold on to, and considering the rage and hatred he must've had built up from all the years of being alone and unwanted, the feelings of rejection; it's not a surprise that he grabbed onto the one thing he had…his history."

Harry suddenly sat up. "Moaning Myrtle…She was the first…"

"And only," said Dumbledore quickly, "at least where the school is concerned. When I confronted Tom and told him that the school would be closed if the killings weren't stopped, he quickly realized that he might lose his only home. It was then that everything stopped. But the only thing Tom stopped was the killings in the school. He still had his mind set to follow as closely as possible in Salazar Slytherin's footsteps, and along the way, gained a desire for power, just as Salazar had. That hunger for power, and his desire to follow in Slytherin's footsteps, ultimately began his descent into darkness."

Harry nodded. "I understand. But how does Tom Riddle's history have anything to do with me?"

Dumbledore paused and looked from Harry to Lupin whose eyes remained glued to the floor. He shifted forward and rested his elbows on his knees, only giving a silent nod of approval for the Headmaster to continue. Dumbledore nodded back to him.

"Harry, there's something that Tom never found out about his mother…Something that, until much later, he'd never thought possible. Before his mother died, before she'd ever even met his father, she'd met, and slept with a fellow Slytherin in her sixth year at Hogwarts. Aberdeen knew her family would rather order the child destroyed than have the family name smeared, and not being as heartless as she might have seemed, she had the baby in secret, and left it on the doorsteps of a neighboring family near her parents. She hoped that she might be allowed at least, to see the baby grow up if it lived near her. The neighboring family were Muggles by the last name of Watkins."

Harry stared at Dumbledore and shrugged his shoulders slightly. Still the significance of the story alluded him. Though the last name Watkins sounded vaguely familiar.

Dumbledore continued, but at a slower pace, so that Harry might fully absorb the next bit of information he was being bombarded with. "The Watkins somehow found out that the baby belonged to Aberdeen, and confronted her with it. They told her that if she didn't explain the entire situation to them, they would head straightaway to her family's house and tell them everything. So Aberdeen was forced to tell the family all, including the fact that they were wizards, and came from one of the most powerful and influential wizarding families, the Slytherin.

After hearing the girl's story, and being convinced that Aberdeen's parents might kill the child if they ever found out, they agreed to keep the baby and raise it as their own.

And now Harry, I'll skip to the parts that involve you, as I'm sure by now you're thoroughly confused."

Harry gave a wan smile. "A bit."

Dumbledore nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin raised his head and held up a hand. "Please Albus," he said quietly in an almost pained voice. "Let me finish."

The Headmaster nodded immediately. "Of course."

Lupin mustered the courage to look Harry straight in the eyes. "Harry, as generations went on, last names changed as they are wont to do." Harry nodded, a confusion creeping onto his face. Lupin swallowed harshly. "One of the most recent generations…well, the father was Wesley Evans, and the mother Leigh Parry. They had two daughters…Petunia and Lily."

At the name Lily, Harry suddenly sat up, board-straight, and his face blanched to an ashen shade of gray. Nonono…It couldn't be true...Mum's family were Muggle…As the implications began to sink in, he began to feel faint, his heart rate increasing until he felt himself beginning to hyperventilate. Oh god…god, Merlin…anyone…NO…

"My mum was a Gryffindor! Headmaster, you said so yourself!"

Dumbledore looked at Harry from above the rim of his small glasses. "Once again Harry… It is our choices that make us who we are."

Lupin swiped shamelessly at the tears now streaming down his face. "Oh god, Harry. I'm so sorry you never knew. Lily herself didn't know until just before w…u…until just before she and James were married. The story had been passed down from generation to generation, but her parents never wanted to acknowledge their Slytherin heritage, and certainly never wanted to carry it on. But as the Evans' found out their daughter was to marry the heir of Gryffindor, well, the secret just couldn't stay hidden. At the time she and James had…" Lupin swallowed a huge lump. "Had you, Voldemort had come to power, and had already done so many horrible, unspeakable things. Your parents knew that if he ever found out that a child had been born, not only one so powerful as to have two very powerful blood heritages, but one of those bloodlines being Slytherin, that he'd be after you in a second. You see Harry, not only are you a threat to his power and the heir of Gryffindor, but you are an heir to Slytherin."

Lupin looked at Harry then with a gaze that was hard for him to decipher and spoke very quietly. "Your eyes Harry…so much like your mother's. Those green eyes have been a trademark of the Slytherin family since their beginning. There's a reason the symbol for Slytherin is a green serpent. The parsel-tongue, yes. But the green color was a symbol for those eyes."

Pieces of his life were beginning to fall into place, and Harry sat back as if he'd been punched in the chest and left wheezing for air. The sorting hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin…His ability to speak Parseltongue among the other similarities to Voldemort…His green eyes…(were Voldemort's eyes still green under that hideous red?)…The sword of Gryffindor…his parent's murders (all to get to him)…oh god, I'm related to Voldemort…

"So Voldemort wanted my parents dead because…"

"Because now there was the threat of there being two rightful heirs to Slytherin, and because you were destined to be so powerful. Voldemort knew he had to destroy you before you grew up to be so powerful that you could destroy him, and the work of the family name Slytherin. You see, Harry…it's all he's ever had to live for."

"I would never kill Muggle-borns…" groaned Harry sickly. "Oh god, Hermione…"

Dumbledore nodded quietly. "That's right, Harry."

Harry began to breathe even more shallowly, and Lupin forced his head down between his knees. "Breathe, Harry. I understand that this comes as quite a shock."

At once Harry shot from his chair, his face a mirror of trauma mixed with nausea. He backed away from Dumbledore and Lupin and gazed piercingly at them, as if they were both cracked.

"QUITE A SHOCK!?" He threw his arms up in the air and stumbled back a bit. "I'M SORRY BUT THE PHRASE 'QUITE A SHOCK' IS JUST A BIT UNDERSTATED FOR WHAT I'M FEELING!"

Lupin stood and held a hand out for him, but Harry once again looked at him like he'd gone round the bend and made a disgusted sound. "Please Harry. W…we're not finished here. Much as I…hate hurting you…" he choked on the last words, "There's more you need to know."

"More!" Choked Harry lividly as he made his way back to his chair and threw himself back down in it. "Merlin's beard…How much more could you have been keeping from me!? Did you not think I'd be upset!? Did you think it just wasn't relative to my life up until now!? DAMMIT!"

Harry clawed a hand through his hair and brought it to the back of his neck, rubbing harshly, a motion that made Lupin whiten even more, and stare back at the floor once again. So much like James…So much like…

Lupin sighed tremulously. "You're right, Harry. You have every right to be angry. But please know that all was done for you for your protection…a..and…out of love."

For a moment, Harry's eyes narrowed a bit in confusion as he looked at Lupin. Once again that unreadable expression crossed Remus' face, and once again, Harry failed to recognize it.

Lupin sagged at the look on Potter's face, but continued, albeit very quietly, so Harry almost had to strain to hear. "Harry…I…I've asked to be the one to train…to train you even further in the Advanced Dark Arts class, as you know. It's because…because I knew all of this…b..because…Oh god, Harry. I'm so proud of you. Of the young man you've become…"

Lupin at once drew Harry into a tight hug despite the younger man's look of befuddlement, but released him quickly. The screwed up look of pain on his professor's face was enough to make Harry's heart begin to skip beats again.

The older man drew back further and wiped his eyes without shame. "Harry…th..the night your parents…died, I…I…"

Dumbledore recognized that Lupin's throat had constricted to a point that he wasn't able to continue and the Headmaster stood, making his way to Remus and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Remus. I'll tell him."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Tell me what…"

"Harry…as you know, your parents secret keeper was changed over to Peter Pettigrew."

Harry's eyes flashed and narrowed at the name.

Dumbledore continued. "Right before Peter's betrayal, both Remus and James decided that he'd been acting suspiciously. Both decided in order to be sure of Pettigrew's loyalty, that some trickery might be in order. You see, James wanted to be the one to confront him about it, but Remus argued that Pettigrew would never give anything away to James directly. Remus had always been kinder and more sympathetic to Peter, so having decided that Remus might be the one to elicit information from him, he and James performed a switching spell.

James left that night in Remus body to confront Peter, but unbeknownst to him, the betrayal had already taken place. While Remus (actually James) was gone, Voldemort attacked…"

Harry began to shake violently and slowly turned his wide eyes to Lupin, who was now sobbing freely.

Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry, placing a hand on his knee and speaking softly. "When James, in Remus body returned after failing to find Peter, he found your mother and Lupin dead, and you in your cradle, crying…with that scar. He rushed you to Professor McGonnagol and I, and after a long discussion, we all decided that for your protection, we would leave you with Lily's only remaining relative…Petunia Dursley. I placed powerful defensive charms around that house Harry, but your mother had already given you a protection that neither I, nor any wizard could ever duplicate. The sacrifice of her life for yours."

As Harry sputtered and began choking on his own tears, more pieces began to fall into place. Remus middle initial was J…a J…had he changed it on purpose?…The way Remus seemed to react every time Harry had mentioned his parents…Lupin's paled, shocked face when Harry had told him he'd heard his mother's screaming voice after his meeting with the dementors in his third year…his reaction to Harry's patronus being a white stag…Just like his father…Just like his father…

Harry fought to sustain even breathing and spoke the first thing that came to his mind. "But h…how…how could you…leave me with them!? D…do you know what my life's been like with them!? If my f..father's been alive…all this time…god…GOD …"

James looked up to Harry with a tear stained face and reached a hand to him, but the younger man jerked violently away. Such a horrible look of betrayal was on his face that James had a hard time keeping the nausea that turned his stomach from making him vomit. "Harry, please…We knew that if Voldemort found you he would kill you as quickly as possible…especially if he found you with me. He'd suspect the switching spell if he saw us together. I'd never be able to act like I wasn't your father… We wanted to keep you from the wizarding world for as long as possible, to hide you from him as long as we could. To keep you away from me…to keep you safe…We had to wait until you were old enough, powerful enough to defend yourself. Oh god, Harry you don't know how hard it's been not to tell you…"

Harry stood, his face alarmingly white and began to stumble toward Dumbledore's door. Too much…I c..can't…I've got to get back to Hermione…I've got to…I need to…need her…

Dumbledore stood quickly as well, alarm settling on his wizened face as he recognized the look of shock on Harry's face. "James, I think he needs help…"

At the name James, Harry heard nothing more. His hand had just reached the doorknob when he found he couldn't see anymore. His vision had clouded over with black. That's odd… Suddenly he found his hearing was impaired as well, as if he were inside that ruddy box again. Can't hear…Don'twanttohearanymore… heardenough… He was falling. He found he didn't mind falling. Can I fall away from here? If only to get a moment's peace…to escape…Just need Hermione…Just need to escape…

Lupin jumped behind Harry and caught him with a large grunt, just before the younger man hit the floor.

17. Chapter 17: Realizations and a New Class

Chapter 17: Realizations and a New Class

All was dark, and Harry was numb. Not just the sort of numb felt in the legs when one has been sitting in the same position too long. He felt literally drained of any emotion from the inside out. His world, unstable at best, had just been given another great heave and turned completely upside down once again. On top of all of that, his eyes seemed glued closed, and he was unable to open them. It was as if he was fighting to travel toward some semblance of day, but could find nothing to guide him; no sliver of light in the black cave.

Strangely enough the visions in his head, brought on by events just an hour earlier, needed no light to play out in great detail before him.

Remus Lupin is my father…My father is inside his friend's body…I can't…don't want to believe it…Lied to me…everything was a lie…everyone lied to me…m..my god I'm related to Voldemort…related to Voldemort!…have to kill him…have to kill him…have to find Hermione…need her…

"Harry…"

The name was spoken so softly that Harry whirled around in his obscurity, unsure of whether he'd truly heard her or whether his mind was playing tricks on him.

"…Please wake up love…Please come back to me."

No mistaking…that was Hermione's voice. Great Merlin, she was better than light. He'd follow that voice and find day even if there was no day left to find.

As he followed her sound, slowly, Harry began to see his sliver of light, although with it came whitish flashes of pain residing somewhere behind his eyelids. But though it hurt to finally open his eyes, Harry saw Hermione's concerned face swimming fuzzily before him. It made it worth the effort.

" 'Mione," he croaked dryly, "Y'came to Dumbledore's office…Should be in bed…Y'should be in th' infirmary…"

Hermione smiled with relief and Harry realized then that she was reclining on his bed beside him. Hang on…his bed? How did he…

"No Harry, we're in our dorms," smiled Hermione as she stroked the hair from his forehead. "Don't you remember? You hit your head."

Harry turned his head briefly to see Ron's concerned face swimming before him, as his friend was perched on the other side of the bed. He vaguely heard Hermione telling Ron that he'd be fine now, and to get to his dorms and get some sleep. Ron nodded, and his tall blurry red-haired form patted Hermione companionably on the shoulder and exited his room.

H…hit my head…blacked out…Dream? Tell me it was a dream…"Mione …tell me it was a dream. Tell me you weren't in the infirmary. Tell me I wasn't in Dumbledore's office…Tell me that my father…my father didn't lie to me for sixteen years…" One year old when my mum and dad were killed…lied to me for sixteen years…I've needed him for sixteen years…

"Y…You're father?" Hermione felt her heart quicken and put her hand on Harry's cheek as he gazed up at her. "Harry I don't know what went on in Professor Dumbledore's office. All I know is that Ron and I were waiting for you to come back and it seemed hours later, Professor Lupin and Dumbledore came in levitating you behind them. He kept apologizing to Madame Pomfrey for letting you bump your head on the floor. He said he caught you but dropped you a minute later…seems you're a lot heavier than he thought. Ron and I had a right time convincing Madame Pomfrey to let you and I return to our dorms…" She finished with a searching look, and Harry dropped his gaze. "Harry, what happened outside? Did you find who sent the dark mark? And what happened in Dumbledore's office? When they came in with you, Lupin was sobbing. It scared Ron and I half to death! We thought he was crying over something awful that had happened to you." Tears began welling in Hermione's eyes and she swallowed harshly. "I don't ever want you to go running off like that again, Harry. You could have been…Harry, for a moment I thought you were…we thought you were d..de…I can't even say it."

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and her face twisted in an attempt to keep back the tears that once again threatened to fall. Harry raised a hand gently to her face. He could see that she'd been crying for some time.

"It's all right, love. Just a bump on the head." He smiled then to lighten the mood, although it was clear the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "Ironic isn't it? Guess you were right when you said what happens to me happens to you, and vice versa. I just wish it didn't have to be all of the physical stuff as well."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to smile at the joke and leaned closer to Harry's face, almost whispering. "Harry…Please tell me what happened tonight. And don't leave anything out. None of that skipping over parts so I won't be hurt in any way." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "And don't bother denying it. I know you too well."

Harry closed his mouth again and half-grimaced. She did know him too well. Although he would do anything to spare her any grief, even if it was over him, he also couldn't lie to her. He knew he was a terrible liar and he always had been. That's why when it became necessary he usually left it up to Ron.

Harry began slowly, leaving nothing out, and by the time he was finished, Hermione was shaking with shock beside him, her mouth forming a tremulous and distraught "O".

"M…my god Harry…My god…Are you…are you…" The suppressed look of pain on Harry's face hurt Hermione more than if he'd been yelling or screaming, and she found herself breaking down into sobs for him. Harry, who'd been trying to keep an even face throughout the whole telling, finally broke down as well, crying and choking as if his heart were shattering into a million pieces.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and the two of them cried together until the wee hours of the morning, until they had cried themselves into exhaustion and had fallen into a hard sleep.

By the time Ron came round to their dorms and knocked heavily on the door, it was a quarter of eleven the next morning. As it was a Saturday it didn't matter what the students did, but as neither Harry nor Hermione had shown up for breakfast, he was more than a little concerned.

The loud knocking woke Harry with a start, and he opened swollen eyes to find Hermione snuggled closely to him, an arm thrown over his stomach, her head on his bare chest, and her mouth slightly relaxed open in sleep. The knocking came again, more fervently this time, and Harry growled softly, agitatedly, and began carefully disentangling himself from Hermione. After fumbling around for his glasses and shoving them onto his face, he gently covered her with his blanket and padded wearily to the door, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair before opening it.

"Wonky knight," he heard Ron growling to Sir Cadogen. "Look, I don't know the password alright? But these are my friends and I need to know that they're safe…"

"Upon my word as a knight of King Arthur's court you shall not pass sir!" Harry heard the squeaky voice of Sir Cadogen reply. He heard a clang of armor as Cadogen must've fallen from his horse again. "And as you are determined to force my hand in the matter I shall have no other choice but to challenge you to a duel!"

Cadogen unsheathed his sword with a mighty heave that almost sent him toppling forward and rushed towards the end of his picture brandishing the blade and waving it to and fro, hopping up and down.

Ron scoffed in disbelief. "What the…You're bloody wonkers, you psycho!"

"Draw coward! Have at thee! Forward and fight! I shall skewer thee and leave thine entrails for the birds of prey!"

Ron sighed angrily. "Bloody hell."

Harry opened the door fully and poked his tousled head around it to look at the knight. "No duels today Sir Cadogen, he's welcome anytime. Ron, what is it? It's Saturday, mate. Hermione and I are both knackered."

Ron slumped against the frame of the door and sighed in relief. "I know it's Saturday. It's also almost Saturday afternoon you wanker. You and 'Mione didn't show up for breakfast, and after last night I got worried. Where is she by the way?"

Harry stepped aside and let Ron in. "Still sleeping. Been a long night you know…"

Ron started for a moment and then fixed Harry with wide accusing eyes. "Sleeping! Harry you let her sleep!? Remember Madame Pomfrey wanted her awake for twenty-four hours! Good lord, where is she!?"

A look of horror swept over Harry's features as he realized what he'd done. Of all of the selfish, shit-faced things to do…

Quickly he ran to his room and jumped on the bed, gently shaking Hermione by the shoulders. " 'Mione love, wake up. No sleeping right now…Wake up…"

Hermione pushed the hands on her shoulders away, irritated in sleep, and opened swollen eyes. "H'rry…Wha'…what're you…"

Ron took her hand and helped her sit up even as Hermione growled menacingly at him. "H'rry, Ron, please. Tired…need t' sleep, K?"

She began to slump back under the covers but Harry swiftly put an arm behind her back and dug under the covers to place the other one under her legs. He hoisted her up and set her down unsteadily on her feet, keeping an arm about her waist.

"Harry, what're you doing!?"

"Madame Pomfrey's orders, remember love? No sleep for twenty-four hours. God Hermione, I'm so sorry. I should've been watching you, not whinging on about my own problems…"

Hermione shook her head and walked into the common room to sit in front of the fire, Harry and Ron following.

"As you can see Harry, I'm fine. And what you're upset about most certainly isn't something you should've kept to yourself. Besides if you had, I would've hexed you into next winter."

"Hang on," said Ron suddenly, sitting up and peering steadily at Harry. "Does this have to do with last night? Harry tell me what happened."

It was more of a demand than a request, and Harry had no choice but to tell him. Truth be told, he needed Ron to know everything as well. He'd never been able to keep anything from him, or from Hermione, and he'd figured out long ago that it was much better to include them than to go through things alone.

Ron's reaction mirrored Hermione's almost exactly, although he didn't cry. True to his nature, his face reddened and he sniffled almost imperceptibly, turning halfway away from them as if he found something hanging on the wall of particular interest.

"Bloody hell. Professor Lupin? Your dad?…Bloody hell! Th…that…I don't know what to say, mate. That must've been hell on you. But your dad's alive. He's alive! You have him back! Truthfully I don't understand why you're not with him right now trying to learn everything you can about him…"

"Ron, I never lost him. Don't you see?" Harry's throat began to constrict painfully again and he fought the tears tooth and nail. He was done crying. "He never really died. But he and Dumbledore, and Professor McGonnagol for that matter let me believe that he did. He lied to me, Ron. For seventeen years he's been here, and he's left me alone. I just…I can't understand that."

Hermione sighed, a fresh set of tears brimming in her eyes, and spoke softly although her gaze stayed glued to the orange fire in the hearth. "Harry, they did it for your protection. I know you understand that. As much as it must hurt, they had no other choice. If Voldemort found out that your father was still alive, which apparently he did, he'd have found you so much easier if you'd been with him. As it was, he'd have never thought to look for the most powerful wizard child in the world among Muggles. And Dumbledore placed powerful protective wards around the house until you turned eleven, and of course, even now…until you were to come to Hogwarts and be watched over here. They just wanted you protected from the wizarding world for as long as possible."

When Harry replied, his voice was hoarse with bitterness. "Hermione, I would've much rather had one day with my father, than a lifetime of safety. Don't you understand that? All of my life, up until I met you and Ron, I've been alone. People surrounded me, and yet I was alone. I needed him. I needed him so badly, and he could've been here. Instead he waits until I'm bloody seventeen to tell me he's still around…"

Ron sat forward then and spoke in a hard voice full of wisdom that somehow surprised both Hermione and Harry. It wasn't that Ron had no intelligence; far from it. But somehow he'd always been relied on to be the light one. The one that most of the time, pulled Harry and Hermione from the heaviness of reality and made them smile for a bit; made them realize that laughter was a part of life too. But today, Ron was all sage.

"Harry, don't you realize that it was just as hard, if not harder for your father to give you up, than to be with you? In a way, he sacrificed his life to keep you safe, mate. He'd just lost his wife, and now he was losing his son. But mate, he chose to do it to keep you safe; to save your life. I know it must be hard to forgive him and even to take all of this in, but Harry you have to try. I know my father would've done the same thing for me. You should be thankful you have a dad that loves you so much. What your dad did for you, that's unselfish love, Harry. It's unconditional love."

Hermione pushed away the astonishment she felt at Ron's eloquent words and nodded. "It's a father's love, Harry."

Harry sat for a long moment staring into the fire, not answering, his whole body slumped with emotional exhaustion. No one had ever promised life would be easy. There were no guarantees the journey would bring happiness, just others to travel with you if you were lucky. He was indeed fortunate to have such a selfless father…and for that matter two such wonderful people as Hermione and Ron to trek life's road with. Yes, there'd been too much shocking information given to him at once, too many heavy revelations to have to process, but once again, he would find a way to deal with it. And keeping the people who loved him close somehow always made the blows much softer.

Hermione moved from the end of the couch to sit closely to Harry and laid her head on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers and kissing it briefly. Finally, wordlessly Harry nodded in quiet agreement. Ron and Hermione, knowing Harry enough to know that companionable silence was best for now, kept mute and let him think, getting lost in their own thoughts as well.

******************************************

The rest of the weekend passed too quickly for Harry's comfort as he'd resolved for the remainder of it to hide out in his and Hermione's dorms until Monday; until he'd figured out some way of handling the disconcerting revelations and approaching his father.

He found his throat constricting over and over with different emotions; emotions he couldn't quite make himself understand. Grief, joy, bitterness, betrayal, rejection and even loneliness (?) seemed to pound away in his veins at every turn. He felt as if his spirit had been torn in two. On one hand, he was heart-poundingly overjoyed at having his father back after having believed him dead for all of this time. What normal person wouldn't be thrilled at having such a miracle dropped as if from God right into his lap?

On the other hand Harry was terrified, and this was yet another feeling he was unable to resolve with himself. He'd only ever known bits and pieces of his father; pieces that even as of yet he'd been unable to put together to form a complete picture of the man. Truthfully, he'd never really had a father, and had no clue as to how to have a relationship with one, especially with the circumstances surrounding this particular father/son connection. Would more resentments begin to surface? Would they be awkward and distant with each other? How could they just pick up and act like father's and son's act (which was what, exactly?) when they were little more than strangers to each other?

Harry was also suffering from little pangs of guilt that seemed to interject themselves into his thoughts without warning. Without really meaning too, he sometimes felt he had enough to deal with without the added complications of Lupin turning out to be his father, James. Every time that thought tried to creep into his head Harry mentally raged at himself for it, feeling as if there should be no forgiveness for someone like him. After all, how many other sons and daughters that had lost parents would give all that they had to have even one more day with them?

So all in all, Harry spent the remainder of his weekend confused and filled with such guilt that even Hermione's usual words of wisdom did nothing to lighten his heart.

***************************************

Ron had returned to his dorms and had met with a fuming Ginny who insisted that he be flayed alive for not coming back immediately to tell her how Harry and Hermione were. As it was now late Sunday afternoon, the whole school had heard what had happened Friday night save for the conversation between Harry, James, and Dumbledore.

After having seen Harry safely to the infirmary with his father, Dumbledore had immediately withdrawn himself and James from the room and had called an emergency meeting with all of the teachers to discuss the dark mark. Much to Lupin's relief, Dumbledore had had the foresight not to mention his true identity. The Headmaster had felt that it was not his place to reveal it to anyone and that when the elder Mr. Potter felt the time was right, he would divulge the secret. Besides the glaring fact that if Voldemort were to find out that James was here at Hogwarts it might make him even more determined to start his final battle. Having the elder Potter near his son, in Voldemort's eyes, would intensify the threat that Harry might find out his true identity. That was the last thing that Voldemort wanted. After all, knowledge truly was power.

Once again, new rules were put into place. Students were to be in their common rooms no later than eight o'clock in the evening, and no one else, not parents, not Ministry officials, no one was to be allowed onto Hogwarts grounds until the perpetrator of the dark mark was found. Although Dumbledore had a great idea who it had been, nothing could be proven, as Hermione had told Madame Pomfrey that her attackers face had been covered with a hood.

The theft of the time turner greatly disturbed the faculty of Hogwarts as well. Not one witch or wizard could for the life of them figure out what Lucius or Voldemort would want with it, as it's power extended only as far back as a year or two. Also, the consequences of using it even as far back as that period of time might be even more dire than to have not used it at all. Even so, there was nothing to be done for it at the present time. There were no witnesses save Hermione who could identify no one, and no evidence with which to press charges. Dumbledore could try telling the Ministry to keep a close watch on Lucius Malfoy, but they all knew what a great lot of good that would do since Malfoy had the entire Ministry and especially Cornelius Fudge, folded neatly into his wealthy back pocket.

So, Dumbledore had concluded, the school would need to be put on double alert where security was concerned. The teachers would take turns along with Argus Filch, the caretaker, patrolling the hallways at night and making sure that all students were properly stowed for the evening.

Quidditch was still to go on as planned, but every game was to be presided over very carefully, as well as every practice, and students were to come immediately inside afterwards. The Yule Ball, which was to commence in two months time, was also to go on as planned, but students were to be prohibited from wandering school grounds during said event. On and on the list went, with this and that activity either completely prohibited, or to be chaperoned at all times.

With the delivery of bad tidings usually came an unending amount of unhappy students, so each house head groaned appropriately when the time came to go to each of their houses and read out the new list of school rules. As always, they were to be posted like a death warrant above the mantle of the fireplaces in each common room, and McGonnagol was no exception to the line of teachers dreading the task.

Of course the worst thing by far was the announcement that all Hogsmeade visits were cancelled this year, especially for the sixth and seventh years, who complained repeatedly about last chances to visit. But with her usual unbending sternness, McGonnagol explained thoroughly that it was for their own protection, and left them to grumble amongst themselves.

Ginny particularly was livid, as Malfoy had actually asked her in a roundabout way to go with him next weekend, although he had made sure to do it when no other Slytherins were watching. She smiled to herself. At least she had finally made him admit, although with exact words, that he'd been jealous of she and Seamus.

(A/N: I know this is where I messed up before and put Ginny in a seventh year potions class, but it fits with my story so now I have to go with it. Please forgive me! =0/)

She smiled as she thought briefly back to the glares of death Draco had been shooting Finnegan at every moment possible from the moment she'd begun flirting with him in Potions. It was, she admitted, a dirty, low-down thing to do, but as the old Muggle saying went, 'all's fair in love and war.' And war it was. It had taken Draco a month of handholding, whispering, giggling, oh-we-just-happened-to-run-into-Draco-while-snogging-in-the-hallway's with Seamus for the Slytherin to finally corner her yesterday afternoon as she was headed outside to enjoy a fresh Saturday afternoon with her friend Michelle Garroty.

Shell was a redhead too, although her hair was decidedly more of a flaming cherry than Ginny's auburn hue, and very inch of her body was covered in large brown freckles rather than the light dusting Ginny owned. Early on she had earned the nickname Carroty, which she loathed in every way possible. This resulted, of course, in most students at Hogwarts calling her exactly that, especially the Slytherin.

As it was, that afternoon, Ginny had just finished reassuring Shell that she was sure the slightly younger girl's hair would darken into a lovely auburn hue when Malfoy happened upon both of them.

He had approached them in his usual abrupt manner and looked directly at Ginny.

…happens to be very tall and very blonde and very sexy…Nonononono…keep it together Ginny…

"Beat it Shell. I need to speak to Ginny."

Shell narrowed her eyes in disgust. "What makes you think Ginny wants to speak to you?"

Malfoy eyed her finally with annoyance. "Don't remember needing your permission. Now wait outside like a good little carrot. I promise to send her back to you shortly."

Shell huffed angrily and prepared to walk away, but Ginny grabbed her arm as an afterthought before her friend could get away. "Never mind that, Shell. Whatever Malfoy has to say to me he can say in front of both of us. Can't you, Draco?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and raised his eyebrows. "All right…What's going on with you and Finnegan?"

Ginny crossed her arms and turned to her friend. "Shell, would you wait outside for me?"

Michelle dropped her shoulders in exasperation but shrugged. "Whatever you want. I don't care." She walked outside without another word and Draco turned to Ginny.

"Changed your mind rather quickly, didn't you?"

"I have the right," Ginny replied saucily. "So, repeat the question? Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

Draco lowered his brows in annoyance. The brat could be so irritating. "Finnegan…ring a bell? Seems you and he've been playing rather heavily at tonsil hockey for the past couple of weeks."

Ginny smiled humorlessly. "Nice." She crossed her arms once again and gave him a challenging look. "I've never known you to be interested in anything I do. What changed your mind?"

Draco smirked. "I have the right."

"So you do," said Ginny smoothly, ignoring the irritation she felt at receiving one good turn for another. She walked around him quickly and began to saunter outside, flipping her long red hair and swinging her hips a little more than was necessary.

Draco had to smirk, although rather grudgingly, at her retreating form. She was good. "Where you heading, Red? We're not through here."

Ginny turned around sharply and leered at him. "Whether or not we are, I also have the right to leave your rather 'unasked' questions unanswered. And I'm not in the habit of abandoning my friends for very long so unless there was anything else…"

Draco slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe and with chin down, grinned again; that wickedly sultry grin that made him look like he was up to no good. Ginny found some of her confidence beginning to slip. Nonono…I will NOT let him get to me that way, the miserable prat…

"Well, I did have one more thing to ask you, Red. That is if Finnegan will let you. I realize you might have to ask his permission."

That did it. Ginny's face burned as brightly as her hair and a look of fury replaced the twisted smile. Unconsciously she balled her hands into fists, a move that Draco found oddly sexy. "ASK HIS PERMISSION!? You mean as if he OWNS me!? We aren't even going together for Merlin's sake and even if we were NO ONE OWNS ME. Not Seamus, not Ron, no one…"

Draco barked out a harsh laugh which stopped Ginny right in the middle of her ranting. He'd hit a nerve and he knew it. "See Red? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Ginny blinked, confused for a moment, and began running through her last words, muttering under her breath. She finally realized what she'd confessed and flushed again, simultaneously annoyed and embarrassed. "Well you did it. Got the truth from me, did you? Two points to you. Congratulations."

She whirled around to walk away but Draco laughed again, this time much softer and took a few quick steps to stop her. When his hand grabbed hold of her arm and turned her back round, the resulting unseen current that seemed to pass from one to the other, confused Draco much more than it did Ginny. Although she flushed from the contact and looked surprised, Draco seemed nonplussed. The flash traveled through his chest to settle somewhere in his abdomen and continue to flutter. It confounded him. He spent the next few seconds staring down at the hand that had just served as a conductor.

Ginny breathed out the next sentence as if she'd just run the hundred-yard dash. "Somethingelseyouwanted?"

Draco stuttered out the next few words and mentally punched himself for it. C'mon Draco pull it together, damn it! Malfoy's don't get flustered… "I…wanted to tell you to meet with me for Hogsmeade next weekend. Just for kicks and shits, of course. You know…need someone to argue with…amuse me…decent at it for a Weasley…"

Ginny swallowed thickly. In a half-arsed, roundabout, Malfoy-like way, Draco had just asked her out, and she'd been totally unprepared for it. "Well…Of course I will. After all, Seamus doesn't own me. No one does!" There you go…act like it's a challenge…keep your cool…my god does he have to have such stormy gray eyes…

Draco stood to his full height then, all flustration gone. "Ok then, I'll meet you at seven by the carriages…And Red, wear something nice for god's sake. Malfoy's aren't seen with ragamuffins."

Completely unmoved, Ginny replied tartly. "I will if you will. And if you'll attend to personal hygiene for the love of Merlin I might be tempted not to ditch you the moment we get there."

Malfoy inclined his head sarcastically at her, gave her a mock salute and began to walk away, but his last thoughts were less than insulting. She'd look good dressed as a house elf, damn her…

Ginny stumbled outside wringing her hands nervously as she scanned the grounds for Shell. The bastard always smelled good enough to eat…

Ginny shook her head to rid herself of the mental projection. Well it was screwed all to bloody hell now. No more Hogsmeade weekends.

******************************************

As Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way from Potions to the last class of the day on Monday, Harry found himself even more disheartened than usual after the hateful encounter with Snape. They were headed to the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and this was the first time since his confrontation the weekend past with Lupin in Dumbledore's office that he would be facing him. Along with that came the fact that he was to stay after for more training; just he and the professor, alone. Harry's body was so abuzz with nerves that he literally felt the vibration traveling throughout his veins, making his body shake and his heart flutter madly.

Hermione and Ron were unconsciously walking on either side of him as if to reassure him that he was not alone, and they both continued to send him furtive glances until Hermione could no longer take the look of dread on his face.

"Harry." She spoke softly, like the whisper of a breeze, and Harry closed his eyes momentarily, letting the sound of it wash soothingly over him. "He loves you. No matter what…"

Ron said nothing but nodded in agreement and patted his friends shoulder awkwardly. He'd never been good at the whole 'comfort' thing, but he was nothing if not caring and trustworthy to the end. Harry gave him a thankful smile and they resumed walking, Harry doing his best not to seem like he was making his way to the electric chair.

As they entered the class, Harry was eternally grateful that Snape had chosen to let them out a few minutes late as the other students that had been chosen by their heads of houses had already all seemed to arrive.

The three chose seats towards the back of the class, and Lupin, who still had his back turned to the full room, was apparently rearranging some things on his desk. If he had seen them file in the back he'd made no indication of it.

Inwardly, Harry wondered how he could have expected it to be any other way…after all, what was his father to do in the middle of a class? He began to relax a bit, and settled back into his chair, realizing that at least he had a good hour before the disconcerting one on one confrontation with him was to begin.

He began to notice with a quick glance around him what students had been selected. Gryffindor had quite a few, really more that any other house. In fact, all of the seventh years had been selected, and a few of the sixth years. Ginny was one of them, and as Harry glanced at Ron, he saw that his friend seemed none to keen on the idea of her being selected. He knew that Ron was overly protective where his baby sister was concerned, but McGonnagol and Dumbledore had obviously had a reason for choosing her to participate. He suspected it had something to do with the elder Weasley's being part of the Order of the Phoenix, and the fact that the Weasley children might be in more danger than some because of it.

Curiously, Malfoy had been the only one chosen from Slytherin, a fact that didn't seem to escape anyone's attention as many of the other students were gazing at the blonde boy as well. Apparently, Draco took this as a sign of great importance and looked smug, as always.

There were only four Ravenclaws that Harry recognized, and two Hufflepuffs. He turned to Hermione to comment on the odd number from each of the houses, but as usual, she seemed to have already formed a theory on it.

"So what'd you think about the numbers represented here?" Whispered Harry curiously. "Especially with there being only one Slytherin…"

Ron sneered. "One too many if you ask me."

Hermione sighed with tolerance and eyed them. "Isn't it obvious?"

Ron flushed with impatience. "Apparently not."

"Well as far as Gryffindor are concerned, we were all chosen for our house by the sorting hat because of our sense of bravery," said Hermione, " and a lot of us, especially where Harry and Neville are concerned have had quite a few run-ins with dark magic in our lifetimes, haven't we? As for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, I’m not sure…"

"I'm shocked," cut in Ron sarcastically. Hermione shot him a filthy look.

"As I was saying…I'm not sure about those two, but as for Malfoy being the only Slytherin chosen for this class, I should think it would be obvious."

Harry paused waiting for her to continue, but when she just kept looking at them, he sighed patiently. "Love, since it's not obvious, fill us in, would you?"

Once again, Hermione smiled long-sufferingly at them. "Well it's as Ron said back in our first year, isn't it? There's not a witch or wizard who's gone bad that didn't come from that house. And since I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't want a load of overly trained dark wizards running about, he probably whittled Snape's list down to only one."

Harry gave a half-smile at that. "If that's true I'm sure he's furious about it."

"I'll just bet he is," said Hermione thoughtfully, "After all, he already thinks Dumbledore favors Gryffindor house above all others…especially since you're in it," she said, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry gave her a disbelieving look. "I'm not so sure on that…"

Ron hissed with dissatisfaction. "But if he were going to choose one Slytherin, O' swotty sage," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "Why for the love of Merlin would he choose Malfoy!? Harry's told him that his father is a Death Eater, and it's pretty certain that he's the one that attacked you this past weekend. I mean really…He'd have to be completely nutters to do that! Like father, like son, right!?"

Even Hermione had to admit that that one had her stumped. "I don't know. But I’m sure he has his reasons…"

Harry humphed and slumped back down into his seat. He'd felt on more than one occasion that Dumbledore's decisions weren't always spot on. As for what Malfoy would choose to do with his extra training, well, it remained to be seen.

At that moment, Malfoy turned from his slumped position in his seat nearer the front to sneer at Harry and Ron, with Hermione resolutely ignoring him as usual, but Harry found that he had too much else on his mind to respond. Ron however had none of the same hang-ups. He'd been even more disgusted with the Slytherin than usual because of his attempts to talk to Ginny on the initial carriage ride to the school, so he gave him a filthy snarl and raised his wand ever so slightly in a threatening manner. Malfoy simply smiled as if he'd just glanced at the mentally challenged and after sharing more looks of hate with Ron, he turned to glance ever so slightly towards Ginny.

She caught his eye quickly, and something passed between the two that made Ron distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't like, he was certain, but it certainly wasn't hate either, and he felt his blood instantly begin to boil. Both Harry and Hermione couldn't help but notice either, and they managed to grab both of Ron's arms just as he began to rise menacingly from his seat. It had been just in time too, because Lupin chose that moment to finally turn his attention to the class.

"Good afternoon," he said simply. There was a distinct lack of any type of tool or book behind him, and Harry began to wonder exactly what they were to do in his class. He didn't have long to wonder.

"I assume by now you've noticed that we have very little in this classroom that you might associate with an advanced class. We have no textbooks, no tools, nothing out of the ordinary. There's a good reason for it."

With a swift whirl that made him look almost like a blur, he whipped around toward the first person his wand pointed to in the room, a tall dark Ravenclaw boy named Castor Eustance, and quickly uttered a spell.

"Exarmonato!"

Immediately, Castor's wand flew from his hand and at the same time, he was quickly thrown up and backward to levitate in a back corner of the room.

The class quickly began muttering amongst themselves, amazed at what had just been done. Completely unscathed, Castor managed to mutter a 'Cool' under his breath, while at the same time wiggling his arms and legs in midair slightly, smiling at the feeling of nothingness beneath him.

Satisfied, Lupin turned his attention back to the class. "Who can tell me what I've just done?"

Malfoy, who'd always hated Lupin, gave him a snotty look. "What kind of question is that!? It's pretty clear. You caught him off guard, that's what…levitated him."

"Very astute, Mr. Malfoy but you're missing something…" said Lupin with no trace of malice in his voice. "Anyone else?"

"You've disarmed him," piped up Neville, staring at Castor in the back of the classroom.

Lupin sighed and muttered "Degravo." Castor began to slowly lower to the floor until he was replaced gently on his feet. Lupin gestured him with his wand to return to his seat and handed the boy back his wand. "There's something else. Something you've all missed."

Hermione looked up at him. "You've performed two spells at once. You've disarmed and suspended him."

"That's right!" said Lupin enthusiastically. The rest of the class seemed to ponder on it for a moment and finally realized she was right. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry beamed at her before turning his attention back towards the front.

"Now," continued Lupin, "what was my purpose in showing you that?…To demonstrate to you one of the objectives for this class. Our first lesson is for you to remember the double D's…disarm, and disable. In defending yourselves against dark magic, one of the first things you want to learn is how best to disarm and disable your opponent. If you're able to catch your opponent off-guard enough to end the battle with a spell such as the one I just showed you, more's the better for you.

Dark magic can be much more powerful than regular magic. Why? Because along with it comes the power of emotion. Do you all remember before you came to Hogwarts? How sometimes in particularly emotional situations, situations in which you were feeling extreme happiness, sadness, or anger, you were able to perform a bit of wandless magic?"

Harry thought back to the time he and Dudley had been staring into the same python cage at the zoo. After Dudley had knocked him onto the ground and out of his way, Harry had somehow made the glass separating the snake from the outside world disappear. After Dudley had fallen into the snake's homemade habitat, the glass had replaced itself, leaving a terrified Dudley face to face with the serpent. Harry had fantasized an awful lot growing up that maybe if Dudley'd been stuck in there for just a few minutes more, he could've at least lost a limb. Such was luck…he smiled.

Lupin continued. "Emotion is very powerful in any human, but its power is doubled in a wizard. Coupled with great ability, emotion can push one's power well beyond that of the ordinary wizard. Therefore, it's most helpful if you're able in situations where you might be faced with dark magic, to first try disarming and disabling your opponent. There are quite a few advanced defensive spells that you've yet to be taught. It's my intention to start with these."

"And will we be taught to actually perform and defend ourselves against some of the more heinous spells, Professor?" Piped up Malfoy a little more sarcastically than was needed. "Being able to perform two spells at once is impressive, but assuming that doesn't work, what in hell're we supposed to do then?"

Dean Thomas spoke up as well. "No offence professor, but I wonder that as well. It's all well and good if we catch them off guard, but…"

"Defensive spells are only one part of our class," said Lupin calmly. "Of course I’m going to teach you counter-curses as well, but as it's my class…and it's better to start something at the beginning, how about we try it my way?"

Dean slumped a little sheepishly into his seat, while Malfoy continued to stare supremely unaffected at Lupin, only giving a slight snort in reply.

Ron reddened with anger and spoke quietly. "Bloody git. He'd do better to keep his ruddy mouth shut and his ears open. That is of course, unless he decides to follow in daddy's footsteps…"

Hermione made a harsh shushing gesture at him, but Harry looked at him with concern. "Let's hope not, mate. I think your sister's rather taken a shine to him. I'd hate for her to be hurt."

Ron flushed again, this time right to the tips of his ears. His eyes blazed with fury, and Harry took it as a sign that he might've waited until after class to drop that particular bomb on him. "Oh don't worry, Harry. He won't hurt her. That's a promise."

Harry saw Ron tighten the grip he had on his wand, and grimaced. Hermione widened her eyes at him in disbelief, but Harry merely shrugged. He'd thought it would have been obvious to Ron a while ago what was going on. Even in the Great Hall, the two continually snuck looks at each other through every meal. Ginny looked smitten, and Malfoy, well…suffice it to say he didn't look particularly hateful.

The rest of the class continued with little other distractions until toward the very end. Lupin paired them all off and had them try the spell on each other, making sure to pair each student with one from an opposite house so that they would be sure to work to their fullest potential without extra worry for their opponents.

He, in turn, watched every pair perform the spell, giving them a countdown of three to see who could perform it the quickest. "After all," he conceded to them, "A spell is only as effective as the speed of the spell giver."

All went smoothly until he came upon Harry, who was unfortunately paired with Malfoy. The rest of the class watched as Lupin began the countdown.

Harry and Malfoy stood tautly opposite one another, wands down and to their sides as Lupin had instructed them, and looks of supreme concentration with a touch of loathing on each of their faces. Harry was reminded of the dueling club that Lockhart had saddled them all with in their second year…

"Ready then? Three…two…"

True to his nature, Malfoy raised his wand to strike before the countdown had completed, intent on embarrassing the "golden-boy", and Harry was almost caught off-guard. He felt a white-hot flash of fury go through him at Malfoy and immediately, he dropped his wand without even realizing it and waved his arm in front of him, palm outward.

"Exarmonato!"

Instantly, Malfoy's wand shot out of his hand like a missile, landing in Harry's other, and the Slytherin was thrown in the direction of Harry's outstretched arm, and then upward, slamming against the ceiling much harder than Eustance had done.

It took a moment of complete and utter stunned silence from the classroom for Harry to realize what he'd done. He lowered the offending hand slowly and turned it over, looking at it as if he'd never seen his own arm before. The whole class stared at him in utter bewilderment, and then in fear, and began to back away from him as one.

Even Malfoy himself seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and Harry couldn't figure out whether it was shock, or whether he'd knocked the wind from him.

Only Ron and Hermione remained near him, both looking startled, but not near as much as the rest of the class.

Ron's widened eyes rested on Harry, who looked almost as astounded as the rest of them. When he spoke, the redhead sounded almost reverently quiet. "Bloody hell, mate. I wondered when you'd be able to do it again, but I never expected…" he trailed off silently.

Hermione just kept her eyes glued to Harry, a mixture of surprise and reassurance settling in their caramel depths. For that, Harry was eternally grateful.

He turned his gaze upwards to Malfoy, who still resembled a fish, and then to Lupin, whose gaze reflected surprise and pride. "I…I'm sorry, I don't know why…or how rather…I mean…I..I don't know how that happened."

After a few more moments of complete silence, Lupin turned calmly towards the class. "That's enough for today. You're only homework is to practice the spell. I want it perfect by the end of this week. Dismissed."

The class began filing out, disconcertingly quiet. A few whispers filtered out of the crowd of students, but mostly, silence reigned. It unnerved Harry. He'd had his fill over the years of students thinking he was dangerous and unstable, and he certainly could've done without this.

Lupin released Malfoy, and then motioned Ron and Hermione out as well, reminding them of Harry's extended class time. They left reluctantly, promising him that they'd meet him in the main common room before leaving for the Great Hall for dinner.

When the classroom was finally empty, Lupin finally turned to Harry.

"Well…you've certainly surprised me. Suffice it to say there'll be no easy way to start this. I know you have a lot of anger towards me right now, Harry, and by no means do I think I'm undeserving of it. But I have a proposal. For right now, let's just concentrate on our tasks, and leave the talking for later. What I'm about to practice with you needs to be the only thing on your mind right now. Do you understand? Do we have a deal?" Lupin hesitated for a moment, and then shakily stuck out his hand.

Harry surveyed him for a moment, his brain feeling like it was on overload, and then slowly took his father's hand in his.

18. Chapter 18:Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing

Chapter 18: Revelations, Voldemort, and Fencing

Lupin had enlisted Harry's aid in moving all of the desks to one side of the large classroom, and the task had been done in a reasonably comfortable silence. But now that the job had been completed and Harry stood facing his father, the awkwardness of the situation seemed to ease back in between them like a tangible physical presence. Lupin decided quickly to begin right away to avoid the inevitable tension beginning to sneak up on them once again. He turned from Harry's penetrating gaze to stride around his desk and picked up an oblong, heavy metal object, tossing it to Harry and apparently finding one for himself as well. Harry caught it by the handle easily, and began turning it over and over in his hands.

"Recognize that?" Lupin smiled in a business-like way at him.

Harry frowned in surprise as he studied the engravings on the blade. " 'Course I do…Godric's sword. I used it back in second year against a basilisk in the chamber of secrets. Where did you…" Harry let the question trail off as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand. It seemed lighter than the heaviness he'd encountered in the chamber; but then again, he'd been a scrawny boy of twelve.

"Dumbledore gave it back to me," said Lupin with a hint of loss and regret in his voice. "I'd left it with him…to give to you one day. I inherited it from my father. You're grandfather."

Harry looked up from the sword quickly and hefted it from his left hand to his right, hesitating momentarily. "Oh…of…of course you did. Well then…I reckon this is yours, isn't it?" He made as if to hand the sword back to Lupin, but the elder Potter raised his hand with a declining gesture.

"No Harry…It's yours now. I would have passed it on to you by now anyway if…if we'd been…"

Harry swallowed. "I know. You don't have to explain…I know."

A few more painful moments of silence passed, and Harry made as if he was carefully studying the sword to keep from looking into his father's face. A dull ache resided in his chest and pulsed somewhere below his Adam's apple before he realized that he was trying to hold back tears. The only time he could remember feeling as much misery as he did now was the time Voldemort's servant, Kavan, had taken Hermione. Back then, it had been coupled with a boiling rage, helping to keep the tears at bay most of the time. As for now though, all he felt was a dull, hollow ache with nothing else to serve as a buffer. In a word, it made him uncomfortable.

He began fidgeting even more with the sword until Lupin's strong voice cut through the silence.

"Harry, there's something you should know."

Harry looked up with a sudden flash of anger. "Oh gods, more secrets!?"

"No!" said Lupin quickly, "Not exactly. Just listen to me…The night Hermione was attacked, the night of the dark mark, something else happened. Something to me as well."

He had Harry's full attention now, and he decided as an explanation, to simply move nearer to his son and pull up the sleeve of his robe. Harry gave a small grunt of surprise as he saw a long jagged scar that had obviously been just recently healed. The wide, slightly wrinkled line was an angry red, and began from Lupin's elbow, almost down to his wrist.

"What…what the hell…" Harry sputtered.

Lupin grimaced as he let his sleeve fall back into place. "Hermione's attacker, Harry, stunned me…got to me first. Funny thing is if he'd cut just a little farther, I might have bled to death, slit wrist and all. Pomfrey was able to heal me properly, and after, I went to find Dumbledore. He sent the rest of the teachers to search the school for the man, and he and I met to discuss possible reasons behind the attack. The rest you know…" Lupin hesitated as he studied the younger man before him. "Harry, we think he meant to take some of my blood. That he did take some of it."

"You!?" Harry asked with astonishment. "What would Voldemort want with your blood!?"

Lupin backed from him a bit to take in his son's full form. Harry was standing before him tall and strong, but he held Godric's long sword limply to his side, the long silver tip grazing the floor. He understood Harry's disbelief. "Think Harry. When was the last time you remember Voldemort needing someone's blood?"

Harry thought, and then shuddered. It wasn't often that he allowed his mind to revisit the events of his fourth year. In fact, he'd done all he could to purge them entirely from his thoughts…at least in the waking hours. His dreams were another matter entirely…

"At the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago," Harry began unsteadily. "After he…after he killed Cedric Diggory and tied me against his father's grave, he sliced my arm and took some of my b…" Harry trailed off, and his voice lowered to a quieter tone. "I don't understand. What're you trying to tell me…"

"Harry," began Lupin, making a conscious effort to keep his voice controlled and strong, "where were you about fifteen minutes before Hermione left the common room and was attacked recently? Can you remember?"

"Still there…in the common room," replied Harry quickly, "McGonnagol had come in about twenty minutes prior to let us know who had been chosen for your advanced class. After, she let everyone else go but me; said she had more to talk to me about…"

"That explains it then," ruminated Lupin quietly. "He couldn't get to you, so he took blood from me."

Harry was beginning to get aggravated and made a conscious choice to let Lupin know. "Could you please elaborate? I'm failing to get the point."

Lupin turned to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, you'll learn I often get lost in my own thoughts from time to time. What I'm getting at is… Dumbledore and I believe that if he could've, Voldemort's servant would have attacked you that evening, Harry. Since you were not only surrounded by others, but also safe inside Gryffindor's common room, he took the blood from me. It makes sense. Surely he already has the bone of his father, easy enough to come by, and I’m certain it wouldn't be hard for him to come by the flesh of a servant…"

Harry felt his head beginning to spin. "If you're implying what I think you are, it makes no sense. If Voldemort needed my blood to get his body back, how would yours be a substitute for mine?"

Lupin turned to him, an unreadable expression playing on his features. "Harry, I know you remember the dark incantation he uttered then, don't you? Dumbledore's told me about it…"

Harry fell back a step as the vision of his encounter with the dark lord and Wormtail came flashing into his mind. "I try every night to forget…" he uttered with the tone of someone haunted.

As if it were a movie that had been merely put on pause, Harry's mind quickly replayed the events of that night, and the chilling words that had been spoken. Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…

Lupin felt his heart drop into his stomach, and his soul bled for all of the times he wished he could've been there for his son. The boy had seen too much, endured way beyond what a lad of seventeen years ought to…

"Harry," he began with an emotional throb to his voice, "long before you were Voldemort's enemy, there was Lily and I. Your mother and I were Aurors, part of the Order of the Phoenix, and we, above all the others went after Voldemort the hardest. Dumbledore's told me you know all about that. We believe that Voldemort must know by now of the switching spell Remus and I performed. So, he'd have no other more perfect substitute for your blood…than the blood of your father."

Lupin watched as Harry struggled to take in the new bit of information and to reconcile what he'd just said with what Harry himself already knew.

"Hang on," said Harry after a pause, "That just doesn't make sense though. After all, it's not really your blood, is it? It's Remus Lupin's."

"It's not actually the blood, or the body itself that counts in the incantation, Harry. It's the fact that in this body now resides the spirit and soul, the wholeness if you will, of James Potter. The heir to Gryffindor…that is, before you were born. Now the honor rests with you. You see, Gryffindor and Slytherin have been great enemies ever since the houses fought against each other so long ago for what each considered to be the best for the school. Since Voldemort considers himself the ultimate defender of Slytherin's heritage, he's determined to keep the grudge to the bitter end. See Harry, I'm still his enemy, and this body and blood now belong to me. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" Lupin paused to let his words sink in and then continued.

"Although I'm still rather stumped about the time turner, I believe Voldemort now has every ingredient he needs to get his body back. After all, he left a final warning the night of the dark mark, didn't he?"

Harry blanched. He hadn't thought that night, in his unbridled fury, to try to translate the Latin phrase placed so ominously below the dark mark. "I…I never found out what the phrase meant."

" 'Tempus id est propinguo', Harry. It means, 'The time is drawing near'."

********************************************

In all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, even in the years between when he'd been conspicuously absent from his master's dealings, Lucius Malfoy had thought he'd seen it all. He'd been witness to, and been involved in countless dark dealings; some more nefarious than others.

He'd seen Ministry members bribed, used and tossed away like garbage. He'd helped deal with those who had betrayed his master and been given the job of overseeing the burials, as with one of Voldemort's first servants, a sniveling disgrace to the house of Slytherin named Stuart Kavan. On more than one occasion, he'd helped Death Eaters who's names were not as high on the social climbers list and therefore not as apt to cause a huge stir, to carry on the work of ridding the wizarding world of mudbloods, one piece of filth at a time. He'd also been reduced, as of late, to waiting hand and foot on his master since the damnable scrot Harry Potter had taken his master's body yet again last year.

But never, in all of his years of service to the Dark Lord, had he witnessed a sight such as he was witnessing now. It wasn't as if it was particularly gruesome to him. He'd seen and performed enough dark spells to be used to gruesome by now. No, it was more…grimly interesting…of a sort. He expected that to a lesser wizard, the scene playing itself out before him now would be a particularly frightening thing, especially seeing as how he would soon be playing a rather grisly role in it…but no matter. Unlike Wormtail, another of Voldemort's pathetically weak past servants, he was a powerful wizard; able to prepare himself. He'd already performed a freezing spell on the nerve endings just below his elbow on his right arm. Although it made it a little harder to use his hand at the moment, as he could now no longer feel the tasks he was performing, he knew the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks.

Voldemort had drunk a last pail of unicorn blood, and was now replete for the task before him. Of course, his only job was to sit in the cauldron and let Lucius finish what he'd started, but as any competent wizard knew, one had to be strong to be able to withstand such a powerful incantation as this.

Lucius stood in the clearing of the Forest of Kavan, so ineptly named he thought with a brief smile, and gathered his ingredients before him lovingly, almost reverently. The quilt of darkness surrounding himself and the Dark Lord as they stood outside the ramshackle hut he'd rebuilt for him was so thick, he almost felt that he could reach out and grip it. He was sure that when he'd arrived the moon and stars had been out, but somehow, it was as if Nature knew that evil had come out to play and had hidden herself away.

He'd always loved the power performing the dark arts gave him. Its draw was passionate, addictive, and yet so subtle. It was too easy to be lost to it once you'd used it. Of course, for Lucius, he'd made a conscious decision long ago to lose himself to it. He'd wanted it, no matter what powerful pull that came with it. It was more potent in its addiction than any Muggle drug, and from the very beginning of his use of it he'd been fixated, then dependent, and finally obsessed…much like his master.

"Continue Lucius," spoke the throaty, high-pitched voice of Voldemort. "I grow impatient."

"Forgive me, my lord," said Lucius evenly, turning to grab the first ingredient. He picked up a goblet that had been set on the forest floor behind him, and slowly began pouring the powdery substance into the cauldron around Voldemort, speaking the incantation. As he began, whatever outside noises there may have been, vanished as quickly as the moon and stars had.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son…" The powder swirled around Voldemort's transparent form and sank suddenly, as if it were one whole thing, into the bottom of the cauldron.

Voldemort lifted his head and hissed with rapture, his dull red eyes closed. "Yessss…I can feel my strength returning to me…"

Lucius nodded curtly to his master and quite calmly picked up a large, very sharp knife from the ground holding it above his hand at the wrist. He moved toward the cauldron and held the limb over it.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master…" With not a hint of hesitation, Malfoy raised the blade high and brought it down quickly with a hard chopping motion. The severed hand fell into the cauldron with a soft splash, and after a moment of floating on the top of the water, it too disappeared to the bottom of the cauldron as if some unseen source had yanked its sacrifice down. Quickly he muttered a congealment spell, pointing his wand at the now useless stump, and the blood flow stopped, now clotted quite effectively.

He wrapped a cloth around it as well as he could and picked up the vial of blood he'd left on the ground.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" he uncorked the vial of Lupin's blood carefully with his teeth and spat the cork onto the ground. The contents fell thickly as a large clot into the cauldron, and sank to the bottom.

Malfoy stepped back, holding the stump that had once been his hand and despite himself, his body shook with a bit of excitement. Although he was known for his proud, usually indifferent demeanor, this night was exciting. With the rebirth of Voldemort's body, and with the help of a much more competent set of servants, led by himself, of course, the wizarding world would soon not know what had hit them. And after that, the Muggle world would have hell to pay as well…

The vile mixture in the cauldron began boiling rapidly although the fire under it was barely lit anymore, and Lucius let his eyes drift up to Voldemort's face. He'd not known until now how the reforming of his body would come about, but now, the awful scene was playing out before him in great detail. Bones began to rattle and fly up from inside the cauldron, *clicking* themselves together and upward with amazing speed and accuracy. Before long, Voldemort turned to fully face Malfoy, and Lucius had to admit the sight of a skeleton resting atop, or rather inside the transparent dark lord's form was a ghastly thing indeed. Voldemort himself seemed delighted.

Soon, tendons and muscles began to grow and take form as if from nowhere. Then brain and blood vessels and organs, and finally, a grisly pale colored skin began to crawl its way over the body like some sort of disease that was rapidly spreading. The final thing to take shape was the dark lord's eyes. The orbs formed, a bright, curiously familiar shade of green, before the green disappeared and a hint of his familiar glowing red began to appear. Very soon after, Voldemort opened his new eyes, now glowing bright red to their fullest extent in the skull-like face; his new body strong, yet colorless and shaped as if still made of only blanched bone.

Malfoy felt himself smiling, one of the first genuine smiles he'd done in a long time. Here now was his destiny staring at him like a shiny new thing. He would ride on the back of Voldemort's power until the dark lord trusted him with everything. He had no intention of betraying him; no intentions of trying to take his master's seat of power. He only wanted what was rightfully his…the right to be called second in command. Lucius smiled to himself. This was the first and only time he'd ever be able to be accused of being satisfied with second place.

Voldemort breathed, smiling once again at the sensation of full lungs and stepped out of the cauldron. His voice was still high-pitched and throaty, but full of a sort of Herculean power.

"Now, Lucius. You will receive your just reward."

Lucius bowed rather formally and approached his master, remembering not to look him full in the eyes. After all, the alpha male took full eye contact to mean a challenge, and Malfoy certainly wasn't stupid.

"Extend your arm," said Voldemort in a lordly manner.

Malfoy held out his arm and seconds later, Voldemort had replaced the nub with a large golden hand.

Lucius was appropriately stunned. "M..my lord. This appears to be different than the one you so graciously bestowed upon Wormtail."

"Wormtail was next to useless to me Lucius. I can say with some pleasure that you have accomplished far more than he ever did. This hand is powerful. With it, you will be able to literally crush your enemies within your fist."

Lucius gave Voldemort a 'May I?' glance, remembering to keep his eyes lowered, and the dark lord nodded. Malfoy strode over to the nearest tree, plucking a branch from it and holding it in his hand. When he closed his fingers over it and opened them again, there was nothing left of the limb but a fine powder.

He widened his eyes in appreciation; greed and a new sense of power shining in their gray depths.

"Thank you, master," he said smoothly.

Voldemort nodded imperiously. "Use it wisely…" He strode over to his servant and looked him over with a sort of appraising glance as the other stroked his own golden hand lovingly. "And now Lucius…you know what is left to do. Do it quickly."

Lucius nodded once and bowed stiffly to his master before backing from him and disapparating with a decidedly loud *pop*.

********************************

Harry stood opposite his father, Godric Gryffindor's sword for now hanging complacently in hand, and quietly listened as Lupin began his lesson.

"Harry, I'm going to teach you what my father taught me, and what his father taught him. I'll bet you didn't know that Professor Dumbledore himself actually taught your great-grandfather to fence. They were close to the same age back then I expect." Lupin stood before Harry with a plain sword in hand.

Harry nodded grimly. "No I didn't. But apparently there's a lot I don't know."

Lupin looked Harry in the eyes and nodded, fully expecting that for a while, there would be a great deal of resentment from his son. He hoped that someday, Harry would begin to understand why he'd done what he'd done, but in the meantime, there was no time to dwell on it. Voldemort was most certainly moving toward a final battle, and the lines were swiftly being drawn. He expected that even now, the dark lord was busy thinking of ways to recall his death eaters, free and imprisoned. And he also realized that the Dementors, having thus far remained neutral, would probably not remain so for long. The time for choosing sides was imminent, and so was the time for being fully prepared.

He decided to leave Harry's comment aside for the moment and concentrate on the task at hand.

"Let's get started." Lupin raised his sword for a moment and began a series of movements, most of which Harry recognized, but only from some of the older Muggle movies Dudley had discarded and Harry had nicked when he wasn't looking.

"The most important things in fencing Harry are, number one: keep your eyes on your opponent at all times," Lupin raised his sword upward and brought it back with a powerful downward arc, the other arm slightly out and to his side.

"Number two: recognizing when the best time is for an attack, or for defense," Lupin moved nearer Harry with more thrusts and imaginary parries, still traveling in mesmerizing steps, "And number three…"

Suddenly he whipped around and with a powerful downward slash, made as if to cleave Harry in two. Quickly Harry brought his sword horizontally above his head to parry the blow, and gave his father a wide-eyed look of alarm when the blades never met.

Lupin straightened his stance and lowered his sword, breathing a bit heavily. "Number three Harry: realizing that while your opponent is attacking, he is simultaneously searching for weaknesses in your defense."

Harry nodded speechlessly, shaking a bit from the rush of adrenaline he'd just received, and slowly lowered his sword. He knew his father would never hurt him, but he'd just learned his first hard lesson. Always be aware.

Lupin backed away from Harry and moved back into his position a few yards in front of him. "Perhaps you might be wondering why I'm teaching you this. You might then need to ask yourself why Godric Gryffindor himself obviously thought it a worthy thing to know. Harry, a wizard's most powerful defense is his wand, or in your case, his magic, as you might not need yours much longer."

Harry flinched just a bit, out of what, he wasn't sure.

"But what happens when, or if, he loses his wand…or his ability to use magic? He is then left defenseless unless he knows some other means, some physical means of defending himself. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "I do. Professor, you're not telling me anything I haven't wondered myself for quite a while." He breathed in deeply, at odds with himself. "Thanks for teaching me."

For a brief moment in the seriousness of the lesson, Lupin let a bit of his affection for Harry show. "I've a feeling you're going to need this, son. If I could, I would spare you from any bad thing that might ever come your way…but you're a man now…I had to give up my chance for that a long time ago." He swallowed harshly and held his head a bit higher to ward off any more emotion for the time being.

"Harry, I'm not going to lie to you. This isn't going to be easy, and it's because you're my son, I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to be as ready as possible to face any situation that might come your way. Before we're through here, you're going to have to demonstrate great speed, skill, dexterity, and intellect. It's going to take many hours of training; learning coordination, balance and flexibility in attacking and defending. But I believe that one day, all of this might save your life and if it does, then it will've all been worth it."

Harry took in his father's words for a moment and then simply gave him a curt nod. "I know. I'm ready."

If he could've read minds at the moment, Harry would've seen the pride his father had for him. The fact was that James, as Lupin, had watched his son as often and as closely as he could the brief times he'd been able to be a part of Harry's life.

He had taken in as much of his son as possible, so that later, when he was alone again, he could remember and ponder on him in great detail. Harry had a great love for his friends, especially for Hermione and Ron, the latter of which reminded him a great deal of Sirius.

He was fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. He was smart, though he didn't seem to pay quite enough attention to academics. He was extremely brave, if not always a fore-thinker. But that was what he had Hermione for. For James it had been Lily. He'd noticed the similarities between Hermione and Lily almost immediately. They were both strong, level headed, brave, and certainly kept the Potter men on their toes. She was just what Harry needed, and he smiled briefly, eliciting a questioning look from Harry. It was curious how men tended to flock toward women that were similar to their mothers, even when they'd not even known them. Such was the case with Harry. He imagined that the same traits that attracted James to Lily, were the ones that attracted Harry to Hermione.

Shaking himself from the brief reverie, he lifted his sword in an attack stance and motioned for Harry to do the same.

"Alright Harry, I'm going to begin a direct attack, stopping at each action that I take to explain to you what I'm doing and to give you the chance to decide what the best course of action would be for you to take."

Harry nodded and tensed his arms, his sword almost vertical and to his side, but Lupin neared him and grasped his arm, bringing the sword in front of Harry's body at a vertical angle.

"Lesson two, Harry. Never leave your body unguarded. Your sword is always in front and at an angle, ready to parry any blow. Understand?"

Harry nodded, and Lupin stepped back again to begin the attack, his arm extending and the point of his sword coming swiftly toward Harry in a threatening manner. Harry backed up a step, but was unsure of what to do since the threatening blade was neither up nor down for him to parry it. Lupin stopped just short of running him through.

"What would you think to do in this situation?" he asked.

Harry thought for a moment and brought his sword from its already upward position downward to swing up and under Lupin's blade. "Possibly this? That way, I'd be leaving him open and close to me for a counter-attack."

Lupin nodded. "Ok, then do it."

Harry brought the sword, which was pointing correctly up, in a downward arc again and brought it upward under Lupin's but the motion merely knocked the opposing sword from it's course. Lupin then swiftly drew a small dagger from beneath his coat, pointing the blade directly between Harry's ribs.

. Harry looked downward and sighed, lowering his sword. "I'm dead."

Lupin straightened. "Right you are. What I've just done is called a compound, which is two actions done simultaneously. You must always be prepared for the possibility that your opponent is carrying extra weapons. Now what is your job in this situation?"

Harry raised an eyebrow almost sarcastically. "To prevent it."

Lupin smiled. "Smart man. Now tell me how you might do that."

Harry thought for a moment, and motioned for Lupin to raise his sword back into his original attack position. When the professor had done so, instead of the previous downward and upward attack, Harry reversed it, and swung his blade from upward where it already was, to downward, effectively crushing Lupin's to the floor and wrenching it from his hand. Lupin made to reach for the dagger again, but the reversed action that Harry had taken had given him more time, and he dropped to one knee, bringing his sword to Lupin's neck and holding it at his throat.

Lupin beamed at him and gently brought a finger between himself and the blade threatening his wind pipe, easing it away from him.

Harry smirked. "Sorry."

"No, Harry that was brilliant! You learned from your mistake and performed the correct action. Your first attempt had you bringing your sword from upward, where it already was, to downward to upward again. It wasn't enough forcible momentum to make me lose my sword, and it gave me too much time to go for another weapon. But since your sword was already up, and on your second attempt you merely brought it downward, it was done much more quickly and forcibly and you were able to thwart me. The faster defense always has the upper hand."

Lesson number three, and they'd already spent half of their class time. As the minutes wore on, Lupin began to realize that Harry was a fast learner, and apt to be very skilled. He was agile, flexible, and strong; three qualities that had probably been helped along by Quidditch. Before they were through, Lupin had taken Harry through two or three more battles, each one faster and more furious than the previous, and by five o'clock the two were thoroughly sweaty and tired.

Lupin smiled at Harry and rested both of his hands, one with the sword, against his knees, leaning over and panting a bit. "W..well Harry, I think that's…enough for tonight."

Harry nodded open-mouthed and brought his sword-arm up to wipe at his brow. "After all of that, I can't believe I even killed the basilisk in the chamber of secrets…I really don't know yet what I'm doing."

Lupin smiled again, still puffing for air and stood up, his back aching and his legs and arms feeling quite rubbery. "Well I suppose the basilisk didn't have a sword of his own, did he?"

Harry moved to Lupin's desk and replaced the sword, nodding his agreement and smiling ruefully.

As the professor made to do the same, and the two faced each other again, they once again became aware of the awkward silence in the room. James felt his heartbeat quickening as he scanned his son, and felt an overwhelming urge to rush over and hug him tightly enough so as to try and crush away the years spent apart. But the uncomfortable look on Harry's face and the way he kept shifting from one leg to the other kept him rooted to the spot. James struggled to find a way to ease the tension.

"So…I suppose you're headed to Quidditch practice then?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "No…that..I mean it doesn't start until next Monday. We'll be looking for new beaters and a keeper then, I expect."

Lupin nodded in understanding and a couple more seconds of strained silence followed. Harry looked so much like James himself had looked at that age, although slightly more filled out. He supposed that the Dursley's had kept Harry busy with every backbreaking chore they could think of over his summers there. He grimaced sourly as he thought about the fact that even he had resentments toward Dumbledore. He'd not known of the treatment Harry had received there over the years until just recently, but then again, neither had Dumbledore.

"Well…" said Lupin carefully, moving toward his desk as if to straighten it, "You'd better get going, I suppose. Ron and Hermione must be waiting for you."

Harry nodded slowly, but made no move to leave as of yet, and kept raking his fingers through his hair as if having a mental battle with himself. After moving papers around on his desk for a few moments more, James stood again and turned slowly to face his son.

"Harry? Was there something more?"

Harry stopped his hand, mid-rake, and lowered it to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists as if not sure what to do with them. When his bright green gaze met his fathers, Lupin had to restrain himself to not run to crush Harry to him. He was so grown up, and yet, at times like this, he looked completely lost.

"Do you think…er…rather…would it be alright…if sometime we could…just sit…Could you maybe sometime take some time to…to tell me about my mother?"

Lupin felt his body beginning to shake and swallowed down the painful throb in his throat.

Unconsciously, Harry began to claw his hand through his hair again, and James had to keep himself from smiling. Well could he remember the times that he'd done that in front of Lily, and she'd reprimanded him saying, 'stop that…you'll go bald.'

"I don't really know anything about her…or..or you. I'd like to know all I can." Harry swallowed nervously.

James smiled at him and kept where he was only by sheer force of will. Harry was obviously not ready yet for the bone-crushing hug he wanted to give him, but he'd just made the first step, and James had to keep himself from crying for joy. What should he say?…'I'd love that Harry?' No, that would seem too eager, and he didn't want Harry to feel uncomfortable…

Lupin sniffed almost imperceptibly. "Of course, Harry. Anytime…You just let me know."

Harry nodded and shifted his weight again. "Well, I'll be off then."

Harry left the room, obviously deep in thought and headed back towards the Gryffindor common room, leaving his father slumped with exhaustion, both physically and mentally, and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

***********************************************************

19. Chapter 19: Need

Chapter 19: Need

The next week came and dragged on with little to no new excitements for the trio, and each one found it to be just as well. They'd had quite enough just recently, and Harry knew he wasn't the only one needing a reprieve.

Classes were harder than usual owing to it being their seventh year, what with N.E.W.T.s approaching. It was especially hard for Hermione since she had finally decided to take Madame Pomfrey up on her offer to give her private Healer lessons. They came about the same time as Harry's extra lessons with Lupin, so Ron was left with more time on his own now than he knew what to do with. Almost. He and Lavender had seemed to come up with good uses for the time, he'd told them with a smirk and a wink one day. Hermione had given him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes, but Harry had favored him a thumbs up behind her back.

Each night, Harry came back to he and Hermione's dorms and either found her waiting for him, or vice versa. They headed to the Great Hall, met Ron and Lavender there, had a brief dinner, and returned to their common room exhausted and ready for bed, but unwilling to go without a good bit of snogging first. As Harry had told Hermione one night, it would've been like trying to sleep knowing you'd left the door unlocked, the stove on, and the refrigerator open. There was no way. Hermione had replied with a wry smile that even though Harry wasn't the most eloquent of wizards, she knew what he meant.

The nightly snogging ritual had been one that had only been broken during the summer months since last year. They'd always been careful not to go too far, but now more than ever before it had been becoming increasingly more difficult for them to keep from crossing the line…the line that they wanted to save until marriage. Harry was still as determined as ever to respect Hermione, and to keep her from making a mistake should he not make it through his final battle with Voldemort, and Hermione was just as determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself ages ago. But as they looked at each other after each long day, snuggled closely together in front of the fire in a common room that seemed cozily like their very own flat, they inevitably began moving a little farther than they had intended. Each time they stopped just short of going too far…blushed, breathless, and uncontained. And so it was the night before the morning that fear really returned to Hogwarts.

It was almost midnight now, Sunday night, and an exhausted Harry knew he and Hermione should be heading to bed, but it had become more and more difficult to let her go every night. His world had been given one great upheaval after another recently, and she was his constant in the madness, his buoy in the raging sea that now made up his existence. This only added to the fact that he simply loved her with all of the life that he owned.

They were in their pajamas, and Harry was inches from her face as he and Hermione sat cross-legged, facing each other on the soft carpet in front of the common room fire. His eyes raked every inch of her face and body, and his fingers continued to outline the shadows the flames made on her cheek.

Hermione shuddered and closed her eyes at his soft touch, so erotic in its restraint. This, coupled with the wonder he always held in his gaze when he looked at her, was the thing that turned her on the most. It was a grown up Harry, tall and strong, and yet looking at her with an almost child-like gaze, staring and touching her as if she were some precious gift he'd never thought to receive. When his gaze locked with hers, the look in their unusually clear green depths was enough to send a thrill of longing straight to her core.

Harry let his fingers continue their journey, sliding from her face to her neck and down further as he breathed her name. They'd finished talking about the day long ago. There were no more words to say; none that needed to be said…only this. As their eyes locked with each other, anything else that would have been discussed blew away like the wind anyway.

Harry put his hands on either side of her face and drew her in, giving her a kiss that was so soft, and yet so slow and seeringly heated that it left her quaking. His tongue touched her lips and then entered her mouth, leisurely moving in the way he wished other parts of him could, and Hermione gave in to him, putting her arms round his shoulders and pulling him as closely to her as she could.

Harry's hands came down to circle her waist, and he pulled her on top of his lap, finally crushing his lips to hers and letting his hands wander over her back and lower, touching, caressing, grabbing and grinding her body closer to his. He was on fire with need, and he felt every part of his body responding to her. He knew she felt it as well by the way she continued to make small whimpering noises, grinding against him and whispering his name every time their mouths left each other for a brief moment to breathe, only to crash back into each other again.

Hermione's skin blazed where he touched her and she felt warmth and a fierce hunger beginning to trickle down her body. She wrapper her legs even tighter around his middle, and her heart drummed out an erratic rhythm of desire that continued to build with each movement he made.

Harry's blood boiled like lava in his veins, his pulse pounding out her name in his head. An inferno was building with every movement she made against him. He laid her back on the carpet, his hands wandering closer and closer to the few parts of her body he'd yet to explore, and she found herself driving against him despite herself, her hands wandering lower and lower across his back, down his arms and chest, stopping just at his lower abdomen. At this, a low growl escaped from him that sounded so carnal that they both began losing control.

She was addictive, sweet, intensely satisfying, dizzying; leaving everything blurry around the edges. It left him with an appetite for more…craving a primal release that was burning him like some blazing hot iron on his skin. Her hair was thick and wild, and smelled of honeyed berries. Her skin was soft and alive, and he felt the goosebumps that rose on her skin every time his breath neared her ear, exhaling her name like a prayer. Her lips were warm and kiss-swollen, inviting more, and Harry was rapidly approaching the feeling that if they didn't stop now, he soon wouldn't be able to. He'd thought that Hermione was the strong one, that she was the one that kept their promise to each other in focus when things began to get too heated, but if he'd seen the scandalous thoughts that were running through her mind at that particular moment…things that she wanted to do to him, and things that she wanted him to do to her, even the most innocent one would've made him blush.

Hermione finally ended the madness, reprimanding herself over and over in her mind until her body finally followed suit. She began to slow the feverish kissing between them and Harry followed, doing his best to calm himself.

Gods, he needed her; body, soul and mind. There was no way he'd wait any longer than needed when he was finally able to propose, no matter how young they were…when all of this was finally over.

Hermione smiled at him as she crawled backward to sit a few feet from him and get her bearings back. She looked him over. His hair was sticking up all over, his nightshirt was open, showing a nice expanse of chest and a line of baby fine black hair that led below his waist band, and his glasses had long since been discarded somewhere beside the couch. She wanted to devour him, and then blushed at her own thoughts.

She brushed her hair away from her face and began to slow her breathing. "Alright Harry…mum always taught me to flee from even the appearance of evil…"

"How's that?" Harry frowned at her, rustling his hair frustratedly. "How am I evil!?"

She smiled seductively at him. "You make me want to sin."

Harry slowly grinned back at her and crawled over to her again, but this time he picked her up, threw her on the couch and began to tickle her. She began screaming and laughing but he clamped a hand over her mouth and continued his torture. "I can deal with that."

Hermione screamed and flailed, slapping and punching at him until he finally stopped, but only because he was laughing too hard at her to continue.

Hermione scowled at him and sat up, smoothing her hair back down. "Oh, you are evil…you must be destroyed."

Harry stuck his bottom lip out at her. "Just tell me you don't love me. That'll do it."

"My mum also told me never to lie," said Hermione with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Harry smiled at her and offered her his hand. "Your mum is a smart woman." She took it and stood, and he began leading her to her room.

Once inside, Hermione crawled under the red quilt and sheets on her bed and Harry pulled them up to her shoulders and tucked her in. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and kissed it, sitting back on his haunches.

"Quidditch tryouts tomorrow, love. Going to try out?" He teased.

"Sure," replied Hermione with a smile, "Right after I finish all of my classes naked."

"You could try that around here, you know."

Hermione laughed. "Git." She drew her arms out from under the covers to slap Harry playfully on the chest.

Harry grinned at her, until the smile slowly faded. He continued gazing at her for a moment and then whispered to her. "I love you."

Hermione reached out and pulled Harry's face to hers, giving him a soft kiss. "I love you all there is."

Harry stood and walked over to her doorway, muttering 'Extinguo' without his wand. The lights in her room immediately snuffed out, leaving Hermione wondering as he walked away if he even knew he'd done it.

Harry knew. Over the past week with Lupin, he'd been given the opportunity to try more wandless magic as his father often stopped their lesson five to ten minutes before time so that Harry could practice it specifically. He'd successfully summoned his sword back to himself one time when Lupin had driven it out of his hands to land a few yards from him. He'd muttered the 'Immobulus' charm on Lupin's steps as he'd advanced, effectively stopping him in his tracks for a few moments as he'd charged at him. He'd even been able, at one time, to toss his father back a few steps with a simple wave of his hand. But all of those times had been when he'd been filled with a lot of emotion. He'd been taut from the sword fights, on edge simply from spending a lot of alone time with his father, and trying to pretend that he was fighting Voldemort. The charm he'd just muttered to put out the lights in Hermione's room though had been muttered without a second thought and without any particularly strong emotions behind it. That, Harry had not noticed.

He entered his room, dropped onto the bed without bothering to crawl under the covers, and fell into an exhausted sleep without a second thought.

******************************************

The morning sun beamed into Harry's eyes way too early as far as he was concerned and he sat up groggily, swiping a hand over his face and ruffling his hair into an even wilder state of disarray.

He blearily grabbed his robe and began heading toward the bathroom he and Hermione shared, but a chink of light from under the door, and the steady pounding of water sounding clearly from the other side made him stop just short of trying the doorknob. He watched the steam waft out from the bottom of the door, and the thought of Hermione in there, in the state that people are normally in when bathing, brought him awake with a snap.

He rushed away from the door to wait his turn on the common room couch and concentrated heavily on thoughts of Speedoclad!Dudley doing water ballet until he could get himself under control again. Merlin, this was going to be one long year…

He and Hermione made their ways to the Great Hall. The ceiling reflected the beginnings of a lovely day; the bewitched picture of outside showing a slightly overcast sky with fluffy clouds filtering the morning sun.

The two sat down opposite Lavender and Ron, the latter of whom seemed to be in much worse shape than Harry. But though he had never been a morning person, Harry suspected the sick look on Ron's face stemmed from something completely different.

"October first, Ron," said Harry with a small smile as he filled a bowl with cereal and reached out a hand, summoning the bottle of milk to him as an afterthought. The bottle slid over to him and slapped neatly into his open palm. Hermione stared at him. "Ready for tryouts?"

No one else seemed to notice the wandless bit of magic. Ron glanced at Harry and Hermione with puffy red-rimmed eyes, groaned pitifully and ignored Harry's question. He leaned his head on his hand and unknowingly squashed his elbow into a pile of corned beef hash. " 'Lo mates. I feel like hell."

Lavender turned to him briskly and picked up his elbow, placing it beside his plate instead and beginning to lump a pile of fruit in front of him. "Ron, I wish you wouldn't eat that rubbish. It's so disgusting."

Ron looked up at her with a slightly green tinge to his face. "Dobby made it 'specially for me, Lav…knows I need protein what with the tryouts today and all." He glanced at Harry with the last comment as if to show him he'd heard his earlier question. "Nice elf, that one."

"It is rather vile Ron," said Hermione sounding a lot like his mother, "Besides, a good bit of fruit and some toast would be better if you're wanting to do your best."

Harry squinted clinically at Ron and then sat back on the bench with a slump. "You overdid the butterbeer again last night, didn’t you? Merlin's beard Ron, how're you supposed to play today!?""

Ron groaned and looked up with blurry eyes. "I have all day to recover, I'll hack it! Sorry mate, it was Seamus. We were playing 'Hell or Hex' and he dared me to drink a couple of quarts."

Lavender looked at him reproachfully. "Only that's not all, is it!?" She snapped. "No, he dared you to stand on your head and drink until you could belch out every word to that new Werewolf Wilmur song, 'Howlo my love', didn't he!?"

Hermione nearly dropped her mug of pumpkin juice. "He what!? Ron, no wonder you're sick! You boys and your idiot games…"

Ron winked blearily at her and gave her a stupid grin. "Good song, that."

Despite himself Harry began laughing, dodging the reproachful looks he received from both Lavender and Hermione.

Ron turned back to Lavender. "Well I would've been daft to take the hex, now wouldn't I?" He looked at Harry for support. "Harry, you know how he's always banging on about 'Weasley' hair… well he was going to make real carrots grow from my head! I mean which would you have done? He's a real blighter, that one."

"Oh and I suppose refusing both of them was out of the question, was it?" asked Lavender briskly, eyeing him as she flipped her blonde hair.

Ron looked at her as if she had a grindylow attached to her face. "Well of course it was."

Harry snorted, stuffing a rather large piece of toast in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Hermione turned to look closely at him, but at that moment owls began swooping in from the front of the Great Hall laden down with packages, letters and copies of the Daily Prophet. The madness of so many of them flying and fluttering too and fro among the students took the focus from Ron and he accepted it gratefully, giving Harry a relieved look. Harry grinned at him.

Hermione untied her copy of the Daily Prophet from the brown school owl's leg, dropped a couple of knuts into it's pouch and unrolled the paper to smooth it out in front of her. She picked up an apple and raised it to her mouth to take a bite but the large black headlines that stared at her from the front page made her drop it back on the table with a loud thud and a gasp.

"NO!…Oh no…"

Harry took in her alarmed face and dropped his spoon back into his cereal bowl to scoot closer to she and the paper, and Lavender and Ron looked up as well, straining from across the table to read the upside-down words in front of them. Neville Longbottom, seated next to Lavender, also craned his neck to get a peek.

A large black and white photo of the outside grounds of Azkaban complete with an infuriated, gobsmacked Cornelius Fudge, a group of around ten Aurors, some of whom Harry recognized from the Order and one whose face he couldn't see, and a few wizard reporters snapping pictures of the carnage around them moved animatedly in front of the group.

ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN: MISSING DEMENTORS SUSPECTED

By Lorivan Thatchmire

The dark wizard prison, Azkaban, was overrun yet again last night, though there seems to be no evidence of a break in. A total of ten prisoners have reportedly escaped from their cells, bringing to mind the events of two years prior, when the same number escaped. The escapees have all been positively identified as Death Eaters.

Among those sprung from their cells last evening was one Bellatrix Lestrange, along with many of the others who broke out, and were then recaptured following the previous break out of two years prior. This brings the number of suspected Death Eaters on the loose up to around fifteen.

Upon reaching the scene, Aurors assigned to the case first noticed a scattering of the bodies of around twenty dementors; the creatures who's job it has been to secure the prison from its very beginning. The prison normally houses around fifty to seventy dementors at a time, but the rest have yet to be found. This, along with the fact that there is no evidence indicating an assault from outside forces, has led wizard investigators to believe that the break out was a result of defection from the inside.

Says one Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and expert hitwizard from the Ministry of Magic: "We've no other explanation for why over half of the dementors are missing, and the remaining twenty are dead. We've reached the conclusion that some of the dementors tried to stop the breakout and inevitably lost their lives due to being outnumbered.

It's a shame really, for two reasons. Number one, the ministry will have to sacrifice some of its already overworked staff to take over guarding the prison. And worse, number two, we can only come to one conclusion as to why the dementors would decide on desertion of their posts. They've finally, truly chosen sides."

This revelation, of course, again brings to mind the events of two years prior, when it appeared that some of the dementors had already renounced the Ministry and helped to spring the previously freed ten death eaters. Many of the dementors returned to work only days later, claiming that they had been out on the search for the missing inmates. Of course, now, one must wonder if those dementors returned to their jobs only to free the remaining Death Eaters when the time became convenient.

This reporter for one, hopes that the Ministry will soon find evidence that proves otherwise, because for now, it seems certain that the Dementors have not chosen on the side of good."

After Hermione had finished reading the article aloud to the three, along with Neville, surrounding her, a heavy silence fell over them. The lighthearted feeling they had had only moments before had now been washed away and they were left with a sick feeling of dread.

Neville, in particular had suddenly become pale and drawn. As soon as Hermione had finished the article, he'd mumbled something inarticulate and fled the Great Hall. Ron said that he'd become immediately mental at the mention of Lestrange's name.

Ron was also upset by the news but for different reasons. He and Lavender had just been able to warm up to each other again since the period that she had chosen to stay away from him out of fear after the dark mark incident in Diagon Alley. Now, he was afraid that the bad news they'd all just heard might make her fearful once again to be around the three teens that Voldemort seemed to target the most. Rather, it was Harry the dark lord targeted, but neither Ron nor Hermione would ever leave his side, so what one went through, they all did. He knew if it came down to choosing between his friendships with Harry and Hermione or his relationship with Lavender that he would choose the former, but he hoped it never came to that.

He took a tentative look at Lavender's face, and though she was white and filled with fear, she scooted closer to him and looped her arm in his as if he might protect her. Ron allowed himself to relax a bit. That had to be a good sign…

As soon as the article had finished being read, Harry and Hermione seemed to have the same thoughts about it. Their gaze inevitably wandered up front towards the professors table, and both saw Dumbledore and McGonnagol, their heads close together with Snape's, in deep discussion over what appeared to be a copy of the newspaper. The rest of the teachers all seemed to be involved in discussions of their own as well.

The rest of the Great Hall soon began to reverberate with hushed and murmured discussions that sounded nervous and altogether fearful. Word traveled fast at Hogwarts.

Neither Harry nor Hermione needed three guesses to figure out what they were talking about.

Across the hall, Draco Malfoy had just finished reading the headlined news as well. Some of the Slytherin table was cackling to each other about the article. Still others had even gone so far as to commend the Dementors for finally 'having the scrotes to step up and make the choice.'

"It's about time they did something," said Pansy Parkinson in her harsh, nasally voice as she let porridge fall thickly from her spoon back into her bowl. "Gods, this is disgusting. Those house elves are useless mongs! Anyhow, I knew the dementors would eventually turn against the Ministry. Bound to happen what with it being run by a bunch of pig-ignorant lummoxes…Fudge included."

"Exactly," said a strongly built witch sitting next to Pansy. "My father works in Magical Wildlife Services. He says Fudge's turned into a right old sot since You-Know-Who decided to show himself again two years ago. The dark lord shouldn't have much trouble taking over once Dumbledore's out of the way. And Pothead of course."

"Right you are," said Millicent Bullstrode, her bulldog like face mashed even further into a sneer. "The dark lord's only months away from making his move, I'd say. As for me, I'll be on the side of the most powerful. We all know who that's going to be."

Goyle snickered. " 'Course we do. 'Specially with Mr. Malfoy bein' on his team. What with ickle Potter being the only thing standing in You-Know-Who's way, the victory's already in his ruddy pocket. The runt."

"Goyle, compared with you everyone's a runt." At the mention of his father Draco had stiffened with anger, and he spoke before he thought about how the comment might make him look.

Goyle's small piggy eyes fixed on Draco who sat up straight, eyeing him steadily. Goyle scowled, managing to look stupid and confused all at the same time. "What's the matter with you, then!? You takin' up for Potty Wee Potter now!?"

"No you lard-arsed bloater," bellowed Draco with so much force that blood rushed to his face. "There'll never be any love lost between Scarhead and me. You just need to keep your bloody hole shut about things you don't half understand…all of you."

The Slytherin sitting near them all looked up from their breakfasts, some with shock, and others in anger. Crabbe's jaw actually dropped open, and a half-chewed piece of sausage tumbled out onto the table.

"And who are you to tell us what we do and don't understand, Malfoy…" said Theodore Nott, a thin, sallow faced boy two seats over from him.

"Only the son of Voldemort's frickin' right hand man." Snarled Draco with a fierce glint in his eyes. He looked around at the group that had suddenly hissed in fear at the mention of the dark lord's name with a derisive gaze of anger. He balled his fists until the knuckles turned white and ground them furiously into the table. "I guess you all think it's time to celebrate now, right!? I mean half of our parents here are loyal to him, aren't they!? I'll bet you're all just bloody pissing your pants to join them!"

"Keep your voice down Draco!" yelled Nott furiously as he slammed a fist down on the table. "You want to get them all caught!?"

Malfoy wildly shifted his way. "I suppose you lot think that when he takes over everything's going to be one happy shit-fest, aye? That you'll all be princes and princesses and your parents kings of the world?"

"Well he is the most powerful, isn't he!?" hissed Pansy to Draco. "If we ally with him, then we're sure to get a piece of the action, as well as the victory. It makes sense, doesn't it?!"

Draco half rose from his seat and made a move as if to crawl over the table and beat the hell out of the others until his good sense re-exerted itself.

"I'll tell you what makes sense you great shit-load of idiots," seethed Malfoy shaking with anger as much as with a sense of dread. "The fact is that when Voldemort gets through with your parents, as well as with you, you'll be killed and pitched aside just as soundly as the one's who stood against him. You think he's going to leave a bunch of power-hungry wizards and witches around to try and take him over? You won't be worth a toss to him! NO ONE WILL! Everybloodyone is a means to an end, don't you see that!?"

No one answered him. Part of the Hufflepuff table, which was nearest to them had overheard the conversation and were watching him with their jaws dropped, speechless; mimicking the lack of response he got from his own house.

He calmed himself down and stepped over the bench to stand behind it. The article in the Daily Prophet and the ensuing conversation had left him feeling nauseous and completely out of control of his own life. Lucius fully expected Draco to take the Death Eater's mark the night after his graduation from Hogwarts. He even had a small ceremony planned for him somewhere in a forest clearing, although Draco wasn't sure where. The only thing he was sure of, was that if he were somehow forced to take that mark, he would kill himself.

Oh he had no ambitions to be holy and good like the Gryffindors; to fight the good fight and bleed for the ruddy side of the moral. Like his father, he abhorred all semblance of self-righteousness and the falseness of honor, kindness and bravery. None of those were real. After all, everyone was truly out for themselves; some were just more adept at showing it than others.

He had all of his father's ambition, all of his drive, his pompousness, even his ruthlessness to a point, but the one thing Draco had not inherited from his father was his absolute yearning for power, despite what package it came in. Yes, he would take power from any other source…but never ever from Voldemort. The thought made him want to vomit.

On the outside he remained cool and calculating, and moved away from the Slytherin table as if he were merely finished eating, glaring at the Slytherins who watched him go so they would not think him weak as he made his way towards the exit of the Great Hall. On the inside, his heart was beating a staccato rhythm of dread.

He hadn't banked on the fact that someone had been watching him. That the someone had been watching him for a while, and knew when he was faking it even better than when he did.

Ginny watched his retreating form covertly as she took another bit of her scone, and swore that before he exited the great double doors that led into the hall, he sent a glance her way. She waited a few agonizing moments, and then rose slowly and began to follow him out as nonchalantly as she could. No one from their table had seemed to hear the conversation. Indeed, Ginny hadn't even been able to hear it, but she'd been casting glances Draco's way all during breakfast and could tell he'd been in a heated argument with his housemates. Ron's eyes were on her almost the entire time, but his girlfriend took his attention back at the last moment. Thank Merlin for Lavender Brown.

Ginny dashed out of the double doors and immediately ran towards the great oak double doors that led outside of the school building, pushing them open with a great heave and skipping down the huge cement steps.

As she made out the tall boy far ahead of her, his platinum hair glinting in the sun as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch, she knew that she'd been right. Malfoy always seemed to head toward the Quidditch pitch when he was angry or needed to think, much like Harry; though if he ever heard her say that he might hex her into oblivion.

But unlike Harry, who took his problems to the skies, Malfoy sat on the ground, under the same tree on the outer edge of the pitch that he could always be found under. Well, only by Ginny. She mused that she was probably the only one that knew his secret thinking spot. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction.

She watched him throw himself down on the other side of the trunk and took a few minutes to approach carefully so that he wouldn't think she'd come to spy on him.

Finally she made a small throat-clearing sound and edged her way around the tree to face Malfoy who had swiftly drawn his wand. When he saw Ginny he lowered it slowly, leaning his back against the tree once more.

"What'd you want, Red…spying on me?" he sighed almost resignedly.

Ginny smiled bracingly and sat down opposite him. "Don't flatter yourself. I just saw you leaving the Great Hall earlier than usual from breakfast and thought I'd come see what was going on."

"Aren't you worried about being late for class," said Draco sarcastically, "being a good little Gryffindor and all. You might want to scamper along now."

Ginny made no expressions as to whether his words had affected her at all. "We have about fifteen minutes left."

"Well I suppose you overheard everything," said Draco almost angrily with a raised eyebrow.

Ginny favored him with a small laugh. "You know better than that. Even if I'd wanted to spy on you, which I don't…Slytherin table's too far away from ours to hear anything."

Draco pursed his lips and shifted his position. "Then why…"

"Because you looked angry or upset…or something," said Ginny, a little flustered with herself. "Because...besides the fact that I wanted to tell you about Hogsmeade weekend. It's cancelled, you know, so you don't have to get all dressed up for me."

"I had no intention of it," said Draco lazily as he plucked a grass blade and put it between his lips. "It was only going to be a distraction. I get bored so easily."

Ginny eyed him for a moment before she saw the very small beginnings of a smile crease one corner of his lips. She grinned at him despite herself. "Nice try."

"Thanks," he said with another raised eyebrow.

They sat silently for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You can go, Red. I don't need babysitting."

Ginny smirked at him. "I never thought you did…I thought you might rather need a friend."

Draco looked up sharply at her as if she'd just attempted to play some joke on him. His expression turned sour and he stood up rather briskly. "I don't need any more bloody friends. I've got quite enough to be sick of."

Ginny stood too, though she looked slightly bewildered. "You mean Crabbe and Goyle…Oh yes, they seem the loyal type. I know whenever I need a friend, I usually look for those who can only grunt a response and don't have enough brainpower to understand me, much less give me feedback. Let me commend you. Good choices."

The speech left Draco a little lost for words and instead he ground his teeth together and turned his eyes away from her to stare angrily at some point behind her.

"I don't need you."

Ginny sighed and sat back on the ground Indian-style, staring resolutely at his knees. "I never said you did. But if you want me…my friendship, my ear…I'm here."

She knew how proud he was, knew that he'd never accepted help from anyone before to her knowledge. She just given him the perfect opportunity to laugh in her face and walk away, but as of this moment, she had suddenly become tired of playing games. Without warning she'd just laid it all out in front of him, and it was up to him now to literally take her, or leave her.

For a few moments, she thought he'd decided to walk away. He kept making little movements as if to do so, and then kept coming back around the tree to face her again. His gray eyes were so full to the brimming with his own soul at the moment that they appeared stormy. The emotions crossing his face seemed literally tormented, as if he were waging a great battle in his mind…to reach out, or not to reach out…that was the question.

Finally he sat smoothly down in front of her, his back against the tree once more. He lifted eyes to her that were almost void of the usual cold detachment, and Ginny was so startled that she had to look down to the ground. Here was a side of Draco Malfoy that she'd never seen…vulnerability.

"What do you…" he began almost hoarsely. "I don't…I don't know if I have it in me to give you what you want."

Ginny swallowed harshly and almost giggled to herself. When had their surface, sarcastic conversations suddenly turned into real ones? In some way she'd been able to get to him better than anyone else, and not through anger…through truth. She felt elated. "I don't want anything from you," she smiled genuinely, a move that almost seemed to hurt him, "I just want to help…if I can."

Draco nodded and looked up at her, a little of his old defenses rising in his tone and eyes once again. "I don't know if you can help Red, but if you're that keen on knowing, I'll let you in on some of it."

Ginny wasn't disappointed at all. She'd known it wasn't going to be easy. After all, Rome hadn't been built in a day, and neither had Draco Malfoy. But as he began relaying to her what had been said at the Slytherin table, she realized that they'd gotten off to a miraculous start.

20. Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

Chapter 20: Hermione the Healer

The day went by way too slowly as far as Harry was concerned. Quidditch tryouts were to be at five o'clock, and as he, Hermione and Ron headed towards Lupin's Advanced DADA class at three, he noted that the other students headed that way were just as anxious to get it over with and head toward the pitch as he was.

Ron hadn't played Quidditch since his disastrous run as Gryffindor's keeper in fifth year, but he'd finally decided, with Harry's prodding to try out once again. He'd been practicing with Fred and George in their spare time over the summers and had improved quite a bit, but had decided that this time around he would try out as a beater. Ginny was to try out as keeper, and as usual with anything she put her hand to, she was bound to be good. Harry thought that the two were shoo-ins for the positions.

The advanced class went by as slowly as the rest of their lessons had, although to Harry, Ron and Hermione it was by far their most interesting. Lupin had now shown them over ten new defensive spells, a few of which were pairspells, as he called them, in which two actions are done in one.

Exarmonato, for example, was the disarm and levitation spell, desinoflamen was quite literally a simultaneous block and blast, and adleveludo was a lift and parry, in which you could parry an opponents blow while elevating him magically at the same time, giving you the opportunity to blast him backward. In addition, there was adsultopello, which attacked and propelled your foe at the same time, and effundomolior, which discharged and displaced him.

This afternoon Lupin was teaching them all about mind spells, in which an opponent's ability to think rationally was compromised.

There was the simple confusion spell, conturbatio, which confounded a person's thoughts so that he was hardly able to think rationally, and then of course there was obliviate, which quite simply erased your opponent's memory. Harry and Ron quite gleefully remembered Gilderoy Lockhart in their second year trying to get them with this particular spell, only to have it backfire on himself owing to the use of Ron's broken wand.

Lupin however, urged them to use this spell sparingly as there was no telling until the deed was done just how much of the memory would be erased.

The final spell they learned that lesson was a pairspell as well, though another one for the mind. Retrocantium caused the person casting a spell to become confused, and then to turn it upon himself. This one became a favorite of Ron's as he had fortunately been paired with Malfoy. He'd become quite adept at defensive spells and every time he was able, when the Slytherin tried to hex him, Ron forced him to hex himself.

Harry found it hilarious, although Hermione pointed out to him that it was almost disturbing how quickly Ron had become so skilled at defensive spells. Harry agreed with her. He had to admit that Ron actually almost surpassed him in this area, although Harry far surpassed Ron with attack spells. The three pondered on this for a few moments after class until Harry told them that in order for him to get to the Quidditch pitch on time that evening, he needed to begin his extra lesson with Lupin. Hermione had her healer lessons with Madame Pomfrey to attend as well so the three split up, with Ron promising to meet Harry at the Quidditch pitch at five.

The extra hour with his father flew by quickly, and although fencing was hard work and often left him feeling sweaty, exhausted and rubbery by the end, Harry found that he was enjoying the time with his father more and more. He was beginning to predict Lupin's movements before he even made them and was becoming very good at parrying blows and delivering some powerful ones himself.

He'd now learned a balestra, which was a sort of jump/lunge movement; a circular parry, which was a parry that ended in the position or line from which it started; a diagonal parry, in which the point of the sword was lifted or lowered into a vertically opposite line while making a lateral parry simultaneously; and a feint, which was an action to draw a desired response from the opponent.

This action was his favorite, as it fooled the other into opening themselves for attack, and put them on the defensive where he'd been himself only a few moments before.

By the end of the lesson, both he and Lupin found themselves on opposite ends of the room, thoroughly exhausted, and holding their swords limply in hand as if they'd become too heavy to handle anymore. Neither had been able to overcome the other for the entire hour, and the professor had to admit that his son would soon be better at the sword than he had ever been. Of course while having youth on his side, Harry also had to his advantage the use of magic at the same time, as it was becoming increasingly obvious that he almost no longer needed his wand. Often if Lupin was beginning to get the upper hand and Harry was able to focus enough to use magic while simultaneously defending himself with his blade; he was able to come up the winner. James marveled at his son and felt himself bursting with pride any time he lost to him. His first reaction was to clap his son on the back or even to hug him, but he'd held himself back for fear of an uncomfortable reaction from Harry.

They were at least now getting used to each other, this much was true; but Harry was still not yet ready for the closeness his father was bursting to have with him. Though James knew it would be a long time coming, his son was worth the wait.

Harry gave Lupin a tired smile as his father, panting, made a mock bow toward him. "You bested me this time, but I might not be as easy on you next round."

"That was your version of easy!?" asked Harry with a snort as he replaced Godric's sword behind Lupin's desk and rounded it again, "I'm really in for it then…wandless magic or no, I'm done for."

Lupin grinned then. "I'm joking, son…Harry." Lupin replaced the word quickly but Harry didn't seem to notice his slip. "Honestly you gave me quite the run for my money this afternoon. You're getting better and better. I'm really highly impressed."

Harry looked down with an embarrassed half-smile and then shook his dark head. "It's only because you're a good teacher, I expect."

A small silence followed and Harry finally looked up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'd better go. Got Quidditch tryouts before dinner and I need to change. Besides I imagine Ron's about to wet himself with worry right about now."

As Harry turned to leave Lupin made a sound. "Oy! Harry wait a second there…There's something I've been meaning to give you."

Harry hesitated uncertainly and watched as his father made his way to a narrow closet on the far end of the room and emerged a second later with a beautifully polished, streamlined, and sleek looking broom.

Harry squinted a little questionably at it until Lupin neared him and held it out to him. As soon as he saw it, there was no doubt in his mind. It was a Flametorch, one of the top models. The logo was emblazoned on its dark rich handle in the familiar ruby, each letter slanted and glowing, dancing magically with red, sparkling flames as if the word was interminably on fire.

Harry backed away from it a little uncertainly. Without really meaning to, the first thought that came to his mind was about his father's intentions. Was Lupin trying to get closer to him with an extravagant gift? He quickly quashed the thought. If he knew anything about his father's character by now, and he sincerely hoped he did, it didn't seem his style. He was hardly a Lucius Malfoy…yet, how could he accept something like this?

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was almost unable to choose what he wanted to say. "I…I don't know if I can…why are you giving this to me?"

Lupin thinned his mouth sadly as if he'd been expecting such a reaction and lowered the broom slightly. "It's not a bribery gift Harry, though I'd understand if you thought so. I'd never try to buy a relationship with you…You can be sure of that much."

"No!" began Harry sharply, "No, I…It's just…well that's one of the best, most expensive racing brooms around. Besides the fact that I…well…how did you know I wanted this model? This is one of the topmost ones…"

Lupin smiled and handed Harry the broom, smiling even wider as he watched his son finger it. "I know it's a top model. Played quite a bit of Quidditch myself in my day if you remember…I heard that you'd been just about to buy yourself one in Diagon Alley before school until the whole dark mark incident. Also I thought it might be a little hard for Gryffindor's captain and seeker to continue playing without a broom, since you gave your Firebolt to Ron Weasley."

Harry's eyes quickly darted up to his father. "Who told you about all of that?"

Lupin smiled again, with a look on his face that suggested he knew a secret. "Hermione Granger."

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh she did, did she?"

"She did," said Lupin simply. He paused for a moment and gave his son an affectionate gaze. "She loves you, you know…a lot."

Harry looked sharply at his father with an embarrassed red tinge to his cheeks. "Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't need to," said Lupin almost wistfully. "It's written all over her face. Yours as well, I might add."

Harry looked down and drew his eyebrows together. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Hermione, and it wasn't just because it was his father standing there with him. He and Hermione's relationship was to him a sort of safe haven, a hideaway shared only between the two of them, and he was unwilling to share it. It wasn't as if it was a secret to anyone, but keeping it wholly to themselves made it all the more special to them both, and Harry was reluctant to change that. Besides that fact, Harry wasn't ready to share that sort of intimacy with his father. He sometimes wondered quite truthfully if he ever would.

He looked up at his father with a gaze meant to end the subject as smoothly as possible. "She means a lot to me." He paused. "Thanks for the broom. You really…didn’t have to, but thank you…very much."

"It's nothing Harry," said Lupin quietly. "I'm sure you'd better head on, then. Five o'clock, and all."

Harry nodded then and headed toward the door but paused and turned back to his father. "It's not nothing." He gazed at his father for a brief second and then turned the corner out of sight.

Lupin stood in the same spot, staring at the door after Harry had gone, and spoke quietly into the emptiness of the room. "It's nothing compared to what I wish I could give you."

*************************************

Harry left his fencing lesson that afternoon with a lighter heart than he'd had in a while. He was becoming quite good at the sword, not to mention wandless magic, and even though he and his father had still not sat down to have a real deeper than surface conversation, he felt that a lot of the tension was slowly beginning to release. If he'd understood it all, he would have realized that what he and his father were doing was the best thing for beginning their relationship. The fencing class provided them the opportunity to work together toward a common goal, expend a lot of frustrated energy, and spend a time together that was not filled with awkward silence and the thick tension that inevitably would follow a set meeting where some sort of relationship breakthrough might be expected. This way, they were getting used to each other slowly…and James was beginning to realize that when the time for real conversation finally did come, after all of the shared time together, it might not be as strained as it could have been without it.

***************************************

October had brought with it a quicker darkening of the day, and Harry walked toward the pitch swinging his new broom over his shoulder and squinting his eyes through the dusk of early evening to make out fellow students, teammates and hopefuls waiting at the bottom of the Gryffindor playing tower. A chilly breeze swept under his Quidditch robes billowing them around his legs, and while he walked he allowed himself a few peaceful moments to survey the change that autumn had made to the Hogwarts grounds.

The trees lining the pitch were clad in orange, red and gold, and the leaves that had fallen to the ground as if already making way for winter crunched lightly under his boots. He smiled a little in the fast approaching darkness. Often to get away from the bustle and tension that characterized his life, he would escape to the Quidditch lockers, grab his broom and head for the horizon. He loved to scan the grounds from high above and mark the changes every season made. Humid Spring with its scented rain and flowers at the end of the school year, skip summers (which could have been wonderful but were made horrid by having to spend them with the family from hell), the chilly breeze and colorful hues of fall that painted the world ruby, orange and gold, and the biting freeze and blinding white of winter that left tree limbs bowing heavily and the ground sparkling like a thick blanket of diamonds.

Sometimes, although they were few and far between, Harry was able to escape the drama that defined his life and head vertical, leaving his worries behind and watching them grow smaller and less detailed the higher he flew. These, he realized, along with the time he spent with Hermione, were the times that kept him sane.

Ron, he suddenly realized, had just jogged up to him and was walking beside him toward the pitch with a white, drawn face, carrying Harry's old Firebolt over his shoulder. Abruptly, Harry was yanked back to the present.

He squinted sideways at his friend in the dusk. "Ron, mate…you look like hell."

"I'm nervous," said Ron shakily, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Harry, I really suck rocks at this, you know. I don't know what I was thinking letting you talk me into this again."

Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back as they rounded toward Gryffindor's tower. Ron hadn't yet noticed his new broom, and he decided it would be fun to see how long it would take.

"It's our last year, Ron. What have you got to lose? Besides you're trying out for beater…that's a sight different than keeper."

Ron grimaced. "Yeah, and if Ginny gets keeper and she ends up better than me I might as well string myself from the Astronomy Tower. I'll never be able to show my face at home again."

Harry frowned. "How's that?"

"Fred and George'll never let me live it down," said Ron miserably as he let the Firebolt down to the ground to drag a dismal trail behind him. "I know the moment they find out they'll take the bloody mickey out of me. 'You let Ginny best you at Quidditch'?" Ron mocked in his best 'Fred voice', 'Well that's the end…We've had it with you. We're going to start telling everyone you were adopted again.' Then he mocked George. 'Or maybe we'll let them on you spent time at St. Mungo's when you were younger. Large sucking head wound…god-awful accident. Never been the same since. Left him a bit funny, you know.' " Ron touched his head and made a terrible face with crossed eyes and a waggling tongue.

"You actually look smarter that way."

"Bite me, Harry."

Harry snorted with laughter as the two reached Gryffindor's game tower amid the mass of other students. "Come off it Ron. They're not that bad."

Ron looked over at him scornfully. "You're not serious. You know them."

Harry had to concede that he did indeed know them. "Alright, maybe they are, but at least they don't live at the Burrow anymore. Just put them out of your mind and play your best. I know you have it in you…You only muck up when you start getting too nervous. Just calm down."

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered under his breath.

As it turned out, Ron needn't have worried near as much as he'd thought. He'd played excellently at beater, and had gotten the position after being watched by the team for only around ten minutes. To both Harry and Ron's surprise both Dean and Seamus tried out for the second beater position. While Seamus did fairly well, Dean surprised them all and seemed the best candidate along with Ron for the two positions.

The only damper on Ron's mood was the fact that Ginny had far surpassed him at keeping, though he admitted candidly to Harry, when he'd been keeper he'd not had the motivation that he had as a beater. Of course, Harry realized the speech he'd just given Ron before they'd flown out onto the field might have had something to do with that. He'd reminded Ron of how close Ginny and Malfoy had seemed to be getting, and then let it slip about how he envied beaters sometimes as they were the ones who usually got the chance to spank Malfoy from his broom.

"That's true," Ron had muttered to himself, smirking evilly. "Accidents happen all the time on the field…I could waste him."

It also helped that Harry told him he'd always imagined the bludgers carrying the faces of his enemies on them. Every time one was given a hard thrash, he sighed to Ron; he could imagine Voldemort's face being pounded into hamburger.

"Target practice for future beatings. I like it." Ron rubbed his hands together, now beaming so thoroughly with depravity that Harry pinched himself hard so he wouldn't laugh.

Ron had taken everything Harry had said and ruminated on it for a moment before shooting him a sinister, "I know what you're trying to do but I'm liking it," grin. He'd then jumped on his Firebolt and torn off across the field. He'd scared the shit out of the Gryffindor chasers who were chosen to play the "opposing team".

Harry smiled brashly. After seven years, he knew how to get to Ron.

The next week came and went with no new surprises. Classes were much the same, and Hermione, although she'd given up the extra classes she'd wanted to take when the time turner had been stolen, was still strung out with nerves owing to the fact that graduation N.E.W.T.s were only around seven months away. She kept Harry and Ron up studying until around ten o'clock at night every time she was able, and even Harry had to admit that it was getting a little annoying. He loved her with all of his soul, but Hermione was more than a little obsessed as far as he was concerned. Seven months was plenty of time. Nevertheless, Hermione never relented.

The Healer classes had been keeping her busier than usual as well. Madame Pomfrey had told her only last week that she was farther advanced than she'd ever seen a student at the level she was on now, and her skills were such that it seemed as if she'd been working the infirmary since the beginning of her schooling. Hermione seemed to have the 'magic touch', and was able to recall every healing charm and potion elixir needed when asked with an almost photographic memory. Also the healing process, a bewildered Madame Pomfrey had explained to Professor McGonnagol over a cup of hot tea one cool evening, seemed to take much less time than normal when Hermione was in on it. Pomfrey was already allowing the girl to oversee some of the injured and sick students herself, and it seemed almost as if her touch alone began the recuperation, as well as instantly calming fears and soothing frayed nerves. The nurse had never seen anything like it, and told Hermione that if she wanted to pursue the career field, she would recommend her to St. Mungo's the moment she graduated.

Of course as soon as Hermione had been given the news she'd flown down the halls and into the Gryffindor common room and almost knocked Harry over with a full body hug and a beaming smile. She told he and Ron all about it, right as Ron was about to crush Harry's queen with his rook. Ron smiled feebly at her and made his move, dully watching the rook trounce up and down on the queen until nothing was left but dust. Hermione's news had shifted the focus from the game right as he was ready to savor his winning moment, and the wind had been cruelly ripped from his sails.

***************************************

The Saturday morning of the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, dawned clear and crisply cold. Harry opened his eyes early as he'd set his drapes to wake him by eight, and watched sleepily from under his quilt as the sun magicked the heavy golden velvet open centimeter by centimeter. Very soon fresh, new beams of bright light would be making their way across his face, but, he smiled drowsily, at least he had around half an hour of gray darkness left in his room.

He shifted for a moment and found something warm and soft spooned against his body before he remembered Hermione stumbling into the room and crawling under the covers with him around two a.m. He eased his head up to rest on a hand and elbow and gently removed a strand of hair stuck to her lips, smiling tenderly down at the slim form relaxed against him. She was dressed in a pair of his boxer shorts and a tank top, and laid with her mouth relaxed slightly open, long, dark lashes sweeping the top of her smooth cheekbones, and her hair cascading in a wavy caramel mess around her face, neck and down her back. He thought she never looked prettier than when she was sleeping. It gave him a chance to study her beautiful features at length, memorizing each one for future thought.

The sleeping together, in it's sinless form, had started some weeks earlier. It seemed that one inevitably found themselves in need of the other after some insecurity from the day or a nightmare, and kept finding themselves ultimately together, snuggling away the darkness in one bed or the other. After that it had become habit. It was much too hard to go back to the coldness of an empty bed when you'd had the warmth of a shared one. It had gotten to the point that neither could get to sleep without the other there. A few times they'd been unable to share the closeness without the almost overpowering, burning desire to share more and had separated, but it didn't last for long. By now it felt too natural, too close, too much like a part of one was missing if the other wasn't there, to sleep apart. So Harry had somehow reigned in his hormones to allow Hermione to be there with him. He didn't know she had to do the same thing every night as well. Images of Snape teaching naked Potions usually did the trick.

Too soon for Harry's liking the sun's brightness reached his bed, and he threw an arm over his face letting his head fall back down onto the pillow in defeat. Hermione groaned when the first shaft hit her eyes and turned over to face Harry, keeping her eyes closed and burying her face in his chest.

"Why, why, why…" she muffled against his chest.

Harry smoothed her hair down and scooted lower in the bed to gaze at her.

"Why what, love?"

The sun beamed brighter and she groaned unhappily again, finally pushing herself away from him and letting the light hit her full in the face. She squinted until she could take the brightness.

"Why did you have to set the drapes so early? Harry, it's Saturday for Merlin's sake…"

She humphed angrily and burrowed back under the covers. Harry chuckled at her and sat up Indian-style, yanking them up and away and causing her wild hair to fly up and cover her face. She blew huffily at it as she lay board straight on the bed.

"Give the covers back."

"It's Quidditch Saturday, 'Mione. I told Ron I'd meet him on the pitch at eight thirty to practice…Don't make me wake you the hard way."

"Why do I have to wake up!?" she whined in a most unHermione-like way.

"Because we share everything, remember?" said Harry smiling evilly and brandishing claw-like fingers at her. "Get up or suffer the consequences."

Hermione blew the hair from her face and turned widened eyes toward him. "Harry don't…I'll hex you into next fall…"

"Get up, then…I mean it Hermione, I'm coming for you…"

Harry moved closer, and Hermione finally raked her eyes over him. His unruly black hair stuck up all over his head. Large meadow-green eyes, clear as crystal, unfettered with glasses, glinted with mischief in a smooth, handsome face smirking with a roguish grin. Sculpted, firm biceps led to strong forearms and long lean fingers… snitch-catching fingers. A chiseled, bare, olive-skinned torso with a line of fine, soft black hair trailed southward, down the carved planes of his stomach to disappear beneath elastic, leading toward…well. Only a pair of heavy boxer shorts covered muscular thighs strong enough to tightly grip a broom handle on their own while the rider used his hands to reach toward his goal. Slim masculine hips...not to mention a butt that was as hard and tight as...ohmygod…

(YUM, says the author ;0)

By all that was holy and good…Heavens above…Great Merlin's ghost…She felt her pulse quickening and her heart thrumming hard against her ribcage. What she wouldn't give to let her fingers travel down that soft black trail of hair, moving downward, downward… To feel his Quidditch roughened hands on her body…nimble snitch-catching fingers; skilled fingers gliding lazily down her skin… To gaze into the verdant pools of his eyes, burning lustfully into hers as she had seen them do, his hands roaming ever so slowly down... closer and closer to…

Hermione quickly jumped up and was out of the bed in an instant, leaving Harry looking slightly, adorably disappointed and lowering his hands. She gazed at him and brought a small fist to her mouth, chewing on the knuckles nervously. Get a grip Hermione…get a bloody grip…greatgodhe'ssexy…

"I was only going to tickle you a little, 'Mione. No need to be so jumpy! Merlin, you look like I was going to attack you," he grinned.

Attack me. Ohgodjusthangon... "I just…I..you're right. I should get up…lot of studying to do…besides I told Madame Pomfrey I'd help her in the infirmary if there are any injuries at the game today. You know, there usually are…"

With that she ran from the room and grabbed her robe from her own room, shutting herself in the bathroom and immediately turning on a cooler shower than normal. Harry sat on the bed looking slightly puzzled.

The stands at the Quidditch field were filled to the brimming that afternoon, and the excited crowd of hundreds, all colored in either red and gold, or green and silver, made so much noise that most were unable to hear the person right next to them. The afternoon was much like the morning had been; cool, crisp and brightly clear with a hint of a very cool autumn in the air. A chilly breeze swept through the bleachers and Hermione tugged her robes tightly around her, fitting her red and gold scarf tighter around her neck.

She sat squashed rigidly against Hagrid in her seat and clamped her hands tightly together to avoid trembling. She peered around and above the crowd of fans waving red "Gryffindor" banners; her eyes randomly wandering toward the Gryffindor game tower where she knew Harry, Ron and Ginny were, along with the rest of their team. She could imagine Harry lecturing them at this very minute, rehashing Quidditch moves, and trying his best not to sound like Oliver Wood but failing miserably at it.

(Oliver had stayed around Hogwarts to oversee the games. He'd taken the position on after Madame Hootch left, deciding with Dumbledore's approval to continue coaching his favorite team even though he was no longer in school to play on it. But he'd finally decided to leave the position of Gryffindor team captain to Harry this year and concentrate solely on being overseer of the game.)

Hermione watched Oliver's lank form move toward the middle of the field, dragging the Quidditch game chest behind him, and she nervously shifted in her seat. Agreeing to help Madame Pomfrey with any injuries after the game had reminded her of how dangerous the sport really could be. And now, not only did she have Harry to worry about, but Ron and Ginny as well.

Hagrid, dressed warmly in a gigantic muggle-looking plaid shirt and his usual brown trousers, glanced sideways at her and gently patted her clenched hands with his gigantic one. "Now, now 'Ermione. Ain' no need in gettin' yoursel' worked up like ya are. Everythin'll work out jes' fine. You'll see."

Hermione turned stiffly to him. "It's just such a dangerous game, Hagrid. You've seen how Harry dives breakneck for the snitch! And Ron…Merlin's beard I don't know how he's going to be with…beating those hard balls. And Ginny's so small…"

"Ain' no smaller'n you, there," commented Hagrid. "Well, a bit shorter…"

"…might get hurt what with the quaffle hurtling toward her and those…those flying balls and…" Hermione continued worriedly as if Hagrid hadn't spoken.

"Well tha's the beaters job then, isn' it?" said Hagrid. "Ron an' Seamus are there to keep th' bludgers from gettin' to 'er…"

"…and the boys are so rough out there! Don't seem to care a bit that they're rushing toward the ground at a thousand miles an hour…"

"Well I don' think it's that fas'…" put in Hagrid.

"…too many times disaster has been averted by only that much…" Hermione held up a centimeters worth of measurement.

"Well now any sport worth playin' is gonna be rough…"

"…swatting those balls at each other and punching and ramming…"

"They're called bludgers 'Ermione…an' well, tha' other rubbish is considered foul then, isn' it?…"

"…always just dodging disaster, what with…"

"…well Quidditch can be a dodgy game, but…"

"…just seems way too dangerous to me. Along with all of the other things I mentioned… They. Could. Fall. Fall Hagrid! And how high up are they, I ask you!? It's just…it seems like an unnecessary risk to me…just to play a silly game."

After finishing her rant she finally turned to look anxiously at Hagrid. "Well? Don't you agree? Aren't you going to say anything!?"

Hagrid opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds before regarding Hermione affectionately and patting her fatherly like on the head. He'd become used to her rants after seven years. "Well 'Ermione…I reckon boys will be boys…er, rather…an' Ginny a' course."

Hermione gave off a rattled sigh and turned to see Harry, Ron and Ginny waving at she and Hagrid from atop the Quidditch tower with beaming smiles. She waved feebly back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Seamus Finnegan sat up in the announcer's box nervously chewing a nail as he turned his head to look at all of the professors behind him. After he'd failed to get a position on Gryffindor's team, he'd decided to ask McGonnagol if he could take over being announcer for the games. She had given him a hard once-over and agreed, but had added in no uncertain terms that if he tried to commentate in any way like Lee Jordan had, she would lock him in the most stocked supply closet she could find with Peeves the Poltergeist for a whole evening. Seamus shuddered as he of thought what horrors might await him. Peeves, an endless supply of inkbottles, sharp quills, heavy books, brooms and mops and pails, and a lifetimes worth of confiscated pranks, mostly nicked from George and Fred before they'd graduated…a bead of sweat trickled down his back. He'd be dead before morning.

He swallowed hard and saw the signal from Oliver in the middle of the pitch that both teams were ready.

Clearing his throat nervously and glancing back at a hard-nosed McGonnagol one last time, he spoke into the magical microphone in front of him. "Here we are witches and wizards of Hogwarts…the very first game of the season…Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

The students in the stands jumped up and erupted in wild cheers, and Hermione stood with them, trying her best to peer around heads and shoulders toward the Gryffindor tower.

"On the right side of the field, led by team captain Harry Potter, and by far the best team I've seen yet…"

"Seamus," warned McGonnagol loudly.

He flushed and continued. "Gryffindor!"

Seven red and gold blurry figures shot out of the tower in a "V" formation, whizzing around the field and coming to rest at the opposite end from where they'd started, hovering far above the ground next to three staggered rings atop long metal poles. The rings had been decorated with red and gold streamers to mark Gryffindor's goal posts.

Hermione finally spied Harry through her binoculars; a small, slightly obscured figure with wildly blowing black hair straddling his broom confidently and turning to look at each of his teammates, pointing at players and obviously giving them instructions. The knot in her stomach tightened painfully. For some odd reason she felt as if something were off; as if some premonition of bad things to come was clenching and unclenching in her chest. But everywhere around her, students were laughing and joking with each other; waving banners and gazing happily through binoculars…nothing seemed amiss.

"And on the left side of the field, led by new team captain Draco Malfoy, this year, Slytherin!"

Once again, seven blurred figures, dressed this time in green and silver, came zooming out of their tower to fly in a successive formation, and the Slytherin stands erupted in wild cheering.

However, when the players rounded the bend and came toward the Gryffindor stands, all seven came out of formation to perform dangerously low fly-byes, buzzing so closely over students heads that a few of them had to duck. A roar of objection erupted from the Gryffindors, and their team. The Slytherin players finished their taunting and finally flew on, coming to hang motionless on the side of the field where three goal posts with green and silver streamers pointed proudly into the air.

Hermione turned her binoculars to the seven Slytherin hovering on the left side, and saw them laughing uncontrollably, with Malfoy, of course, up front and foremost. She wouldn't have been surprised if it was his idea.

"FOUL!" cried Seamus, jumping to his feet and screaming into the microphone, "Intentional fly-by! Points should be deducted, professor! Ruddy mongs!"

"That's enough Mr. Finnegan!" shouted McGonnagol furiously as she wrenched the mic from his hands and lifted it to her own mouth. Her voice suddenly became amplified. "Behavior of that sort will not be tolerated! Anything like that happens again and the game will be forfeited to Gryffindor!" She slammed the microphone back down in front of Seamus, causing a loud reverb to ring throughout the stadium, and threw herself back down on the bench. Even Snape looked unamused.

Malfoy smirked from somewhere near the goal posts. He knew exactly how far he could go before heading into serious trouble. He snickered in an almost bored way until he let his eyes meet Harry's at the far end of the field.

Potter gave him a scathing look and then pointed at him, finishing with a slit-throat gesture. The meaning was obvious. 'Stand clear…we're coming for you…' Right. Come on then, Potter. Let's do it…

From the middle of the field, Oliver Wood kicked the old wooden trunk open, and the bludgers and snitch darted upward to fly wildly around the pitch. Harry let the snitch leave his sight as he focused on Oliver. He knew he couldn't keep his eyes on it yet; not until the game started.

"Let's do this right!" yelled Oliver upward, raising a hand over squinted eyes. "Players to your positions!"

Ginny stayed in front of the goal posts, as well as the Slytherin keeper, and Ron and Dean moved into the middle a bit more, mimicking the movements of the opposing beaters. Harry flew high above them all toward the outside of the proceedings and shot a look of disgust Malfoy's way. Malfoy had also taken position and generously sent the look back Harry's way.

Marcus Wallaby, a Gryffindor chaser, and Jarius Hemdarin, a perpetually angry chaser from Slytherin's team flew into the middle of the pitch, high above Oliver's head. They shook hands quickly and gazed at each other with loathing, waiting tensely for the moment at hand.

Oliver hesitated a moment and then with a grunt, pitched the quaffle high into the air.

"And the game begins!" screamed a high-strung Seamus Finnegan.

Hemdarin immediately rammed into Wallaby and knocked him off course, grabbing the quaffle and heading at break-neck speed towards Ginny. She steadied and placed herself in front of the middle ring, ready in an instant to move left or right if necessary. But Dean, from the left spotted a bludger and batted it hard towards Jarius. The ball punched him hard in the side and he grunted, losing the quaffle. Peter Gallor quickly dove downward and grabbed it up, tucking it under his arm and speeding toward the Slytherin goal.

"…and Hemdarin loses the quaffle! Hard lines there mate…"

McGonnagol scowled but Seamus paid no attention.

"Gallor scoops it up…WATCH IT THERE, PETER!" McGonnagol swatted him hard on the back of the head and he was startled.

"PEEVES," she mouthed with narrowed eyes.

"Augh!… Umm, I meant, a bludger narrowly misses Gallor and he's speeding toward the goal…" continued Seamus, shakily.

The Slytherin keeper, the newly appointed Theodore Nott stiffened and watched Gallor carefully, finally deciding to move towards the outer left loop.

"…Gallor lobs the quaffle and…OH! He's done a Porskoff play! Goal Gryffindor!"

Gallor had faked throwing the quaffle and when Nott had flinched and headed that way, Peter chucked it through the right lower loop. Nott scowled evilly at him, and Hermione watched Harry through her binoculars, screaming his congratulations at Gallor, who was beaming proudly. She could also see Malfoy, hovering on the upper almost outside of the field, yelling angrily at Nott. It gave her a grim bit of satisfaction.

"…and Gryffindor now in possession of the quaffle coming up on the left hand side…OH NICE ONE, RON!… Weasley crashes a bludger into Malfoy as he sees him heading downward, knocking him off course…perhaps he spotted the snitch?"

Potter gave Weasley a thumbs up but hadn't intended to follow Malfoy anyway. It had been obvious he was trying a Wronski Feint. He hadn't yet spotted even a glint from the snitch.

"OH, and Millhouse loses the quaffle to Hemdarin who's closing in now on Ginny Weasley and Ooh…narrowly misses a bludger sent by Ron Weasley…quite protective of his sister, there…WOW! Nice Double Eight Loop there, Ginny! But it wasn't enough…Goal Slytherin!"

Ten points were added to Slytherin's scoreboard as well and the game was tied.

"…FLACKING! That's five foul points to Slytherin!…watch it there Gryffindors, no crowding the other players!"

Once again McGonnagol swatted Seamus on the back of the head and mouthed 'PEEVES' even more furiously.

"And no helping out your team, Finnegan," snarled Snape as he leaned forward and looked Seamus straight in the eyes.

"…Ah, umm yes…" continued Seamus, swiping the sweat from his forehead. It was so hard to remember that he wasn't just a spectator anymore. "…and Wallaby heads toward Nott yet again…will he make it!?"

Wallaby was hit on the arm by a bludger and howled but managed to toss the quaffle anyway, but instead of swatting it back outward toward the field, Nott caught it and tucked it under his arm for a very brief moment, choosing quickly which way to toss it and hoping no one noticed.

"QUAFFLE POCKING!" screamed Seamus wildly, "FIVE FOUL POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

'Damn it…' Hermione was a hundred yards away and she could still make out the curses Malfoy was mouthing. She smiled again in satisfaction, but still couldn't shake the sickening feeling that something bad was approaching…

"…and Thomas performs a nice Starfish and Stick move, whacking a bludger Hemdarin's way. Misses by an inch! OH! And Morter of Slytherin knocks it back toward him…OH! Watch it there, Dean! Punched the end of his Shooting Star…he's spinning…there. He's gained control again…Weasley gains ground toward…WOW! Nice Bludger Backbeat there, Weasley! He seems to have it in for Draco Malfoy today…"

Ron smiled nastily at Draco but Harry caught his eye and shook his head a bit…concentrate on the chasers for now…

Harry circled the field with Malfoy on the opposite side. It was becoming desperate, and the snitch was nowhere to be seen.

"…Parkin's Pince maneuver by Millhouse and Nott catches the brunt end of it, barely keeping the quaffle out…Slytherin now in control…no Gryffindor…no make that Slytherin again…"

Harry spotted a glint of gold somewhere near the bottom of the Slytherin stands and tensed up…Malfoy had seen it too…

"…ohmygod what a move! Transylvanian tackle done by Morter! Very good, I must say…ARGH! Haversacking! That was a foul…five points to Gryffindor…but it doesn't seem to matter; the quaffle's pitched toward Ginny Weasley and three Gryffindor's try a Hawkshead formation…TOO LATE! Goal Slytherin!"

Then a minute later… "GOAL GRYFFINDOR!"

The crowd of students were going wild, the colors of red, gold, green and silver moving in the air like giant waves as they stood and sat again with every move their team made.

Hermione spotted Harry when he tensed up, and saw Malfoy do the same, and both were now hurtling downward at lightning speed toward the ground, bending low on their brooms, wind whipping robes of red and green behind them. She fought the urge to cry out and cover her eyes.

"…BY MERLIN! And I think the snitch has been spotted! Look at that Sloth Grip Roll by Potter! Malfoy nearly lost it there, but he regains control…I SEE IT NOW!"

Draco and Harry were neck and neck, ramming into each other, skimming the ground and performing difficult moves so fast that most were unable to make them out. The crowd had become eerily silent.

"LOBBING! Excessive use of the elbows by Malfoy…no Potter…no Malfoy…no Potter and Malfoy…ah who gives a rub, and they're gaining fast!"

The snitch was moving erratically in front of them, a blur of gold and wings as it darted up and down, forward and backward, moving at impossibly fast speeds. Harry could feel the wind shoving his glasses back painfully onto his eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter. Malfoy's fingers were centimeters from the golden ball…so were his…

Both leaned so low to their brooms that they seemed like one with them. Harry's Flametorch was performing awesomely well, but Malfoy's Nimbus 2005 was an excellent broom as well.

The snitch began zooming above student's heads in the stands, they bent low, murmurs and cries coming from the audience. Harry zoomed so low over Hermione and Hagrid's head that she could almost reach out and touch his boot.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

As they made their way around the field yet again, this time whizzing over the heads of the Slytherin spectators and even the teachers, Malfoy had gone too fast and low to pull up in time and ended up ramming the end of his broom handle with head-on-collision speed into one of the wooden pillars supporting the stands. The sudden break gave Harry enough time to close his fingers over the snitch, and the crowd erupted in a roar, until they saw Malfoy fall almost gracefully from his broom. He plummeted almost fifty feet downward to land with a sickening thud on his back.

A loud gasp and some screams came and instant later, and every teacher in the stands immediately began making their way quickly from their seats. Oliver Wood, who was closest, ran onto the field first, with Ginny Weasley zooming downward only moments later, and Harry dropping down neatly beside her.

All three knelt quickly beside Malfoy. He was sprawled in an unnatural fashion; one arm and one leg at crooked angles, and a thin trail of blood trickling from frighteningly pale lips.

Not giving a shit who saw, Ginny cried out and bent low over him, placing her cheek over his face.

"I don't feel any breath!" she screamed in a panicky voice. "He's not breathing!"

"Move aside, move aside," panted a pale-faced Madame Pomfrey who had been sitting near in case something like this were to occur. Hermione joined her only moments later, with the rest of the teachers desperately trying to keep the other horrified students at bay, and keep them off the field. The members of both Gryffindor's and Slytherin's teams landed quickly all around them and stood back, nervously glancing at one another or whispering to each other.

Pomfrey checked Malfoy's pulse and then pulled out her wand and pointed it at his chest. "Pulmo impigritus!"

Suddenly Draco's eyes flew open, bloodshot and unseeing. His lungs drew in a ragged breath, and then continued inhaling and exhaling on their own, although shallowly.

Ginny exhaled in a loud sob and placed her hands on either side of his face, shaking it a little bit.

"D..Draco? Can you hear me?"

Ron, standing to the side next to Dean fought off the strong urge to drag Ginny away from the ferret. Although he wanted to, he knew that if he did she might never forgive him.

Draco continued to breathe, but Ginny saw no recognition spark in his lifeless gray eyes. In fact, it was almost as if he was gazing through her. She shook him again until Madame Pomfrey admonished her not to, speaking in the same breath to Hermione to levitate him and follow her to the infirmary.

"Locomotor Draco Malfoy!" said Hermione pointing her wand at Malfoy. His limp body rose upward and obediently followed Hermione and Pomfrey as they quickly made their ways across the field and began to wade their way through the throng of chattering, curious students being held back mostly by Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore.

**********************************

Ginny, Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, and Snape all trailed into the infirmary behind Hermione and Pomfrey, and stood aside as Poppy worked over Draco, now sprawled out on one of the infirmary's impossibly white beds.

Hermione stood to the side, dancing on the balls of her feet and chewing on her knuckles, and kept making little movements as if to jump immediately should Pomfrey call on her to help. She hadn't yet assisted in any case this bad, but since her eyes kept inadvertently traveling to Ginny's stricken face, it was all she could do not to try to help with something…anything.

Pomfrey muttered a few more spells over Malfoy, but still the unblinking, unseeing expression stared through the group standing to the side. His eerie bloodshot gray eyes seemed to be looking straight at Harry, who flinched and tried to look away, but kept inevitably gazing back again. They seemed to him almost to look accusing. You did this…you caused me to fall…

Harry knew it wasn't true and yet couldn’t shake the feeling that if Draco were to die that it might somehow be his fault. He stood covered in dirt and sweat, his hair matted down on his head, and his chin downward. But his gaze rolled up over the rim of his glasses to meet Malfoy's blank stare once again. He nervously brought a thumb up to chew on the nail.

Seeing that there was nothing she could do to help Pomfrey at the moment, Hermione moved over to Harry, and gently pulled the hand from his face.

"Harry," she whispered, "I know what you're thinking. It's not your fault."

"I led him towards those stands, Hermione," Harry whispered raggedly.

"You were chasing the snitch, mate," said Ron beside him, "You didn't do this."

"I could've gone round them," Harry added quickly, chancing a glance over at Ginny, who stood near Professor Dumbledore. He had a wizened hand on her back, and she had a fist pressed to her mouth, tears running over the knuckles.

"I was showing off…thinking he wouldn't chance to follow me. Damn it…look at Ginny…Look at what I did."

Ginny leaned on Dumbledore who gazed down at her with pity, his eyes shining a bit. They watched as Poppy levitated a broad white slab of metal with an eyepiece over Draco and pointed her wand at it, saying clearly, "Perspicuus Corpus."

The slab seemed to glow for a moment, and Pomfrey then placed an eye over what resembled a monocular attached to the top of the metal.

After a few moments of staring into the scope and moving the slab to different areas of Draco's body, pointing to some with her wand and muttering healing spells, she stood erect and gazed down at the pale blonde in the bed in front of her. She turned toward the small group behind her with a morose look on her face.

"Well, I'm afraid I've done all I can for now," she said with a defeated sigh. "I don't believe he has any brain damage, but he has quite a bit of damage to his ribs, not to mention a broken arm and leg. I've done what I could, and healed the bones, though I wager it'll be a long while before he's able to do much of anything. I've lifted the breathing charm and at least he's doing that on his own, now."

"Oh gods," sobbed Ginny, "Isn't there anything else you can do!? He looks really pale, and…"

"He has some bad internal injuries, I'm afraid," said Pomfrey. "I looked through the internacorpus machine and healed the ones I could. But there's one area inside his lungs that I wasn't able to get to. If it doesn't stop bleeding on it's own, I'm afraid his lungs could fill with blood. He won't be able to breathe."

Ginny began to choke on her own sobs once again, and Ron moved over to her side placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him with fury shining brightly in her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Ron if you're coming over here to go off on him in ANY WAY you can get the hell out of it! I don't care what you think or say…I like him and that's the bloody end of it!"

No one said anything at the moment. Ron merely nodded at her and held his arms out. Ginny hesitated only a moment before throwing herself against her brother's chest and beginning to sob and shake uncontrollably.

An hour later, no one was left in the infirmary save Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny, all of whom had been allowed to stay by Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey. The whole of the infirmary was covered in darkness, the only light coming from a small candle lamp above Malfoy's bed. It cast eerie shadows over the faces of the four sitting next to him.

Hermione was to come and get Pomfrey immediately should anything change with Draco, and was admonished especially to watch over his breathing. Draco had as of yet, not made a single motion, except for the rhythmic up and down movements of his now bare chest.

Ron sighed in the silence of the room. "Well, at least we won the game."

Ginny had been resting her head on the bed, staring into Draco's eyes and watching for any signs of life, but suddenly sat bolt upright, her gaze shooting dangerous daggers her brother's way.

"Well, wasn't that wholly inappropriate," she seethed quietly.

Ron hung his head. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just trying to lighten the situation."

Harry and Hermione glanced quickly at one another before returning their gazes back to Malfoy.

"Well do us all a favor, and DON'T TRY," she responded nastily.

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "Ginny, you shouldn't attack Ron. He's only trying to help. He didn’t mean anything by it."

Ginny turned an angry gaze Hermione's way, but spotted the pleading look she had on her face and calmed down. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just…I'm…not myself, right now."

Harry shifted in his chair. "Love will do that to a person."

This time three shocked glances came his way, and it was Harry's turn to look abashed. "I'm sorry. I…I spoke out of turn, I reckon…" he looked at Hermione quickly and then back at Ginny. "But I would know."

Ron looked wordlessly at Ginny, whose mouth had suddenly gone dry. She tried to form words for a few moments but found that none would made their way past her throat. Finally she began to try to rasp out a reply.

"W…well I don't…don't know if that's…only just started to…can't possibly think that…"

Hermione gave Harry a harsh jab in the thigh in the darkness of the room and he sent her a reproachful look.

"It's all right Ginny," she said soothingly, "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone…what you feel is completely your own, and…" she sent meaningful glances Harry's and especially Ron's ways. "Completely private."

Ginny continued to resemble a fish out of water, and Ron noticed quickly that she'd been holding Malfoy's hand the whole time. He scowled unhappily but chose to keep silent.

"B…but I…nothing to hide…don't have…not sure what you're all thinking…no relationship yet or anything…"

Ron sat up stiffly in his chair and leaned forward. "YET?" he hissed out angrily, "You mean never. 'Friends' is one thing. The word relationship crosses a whole 'nother line, there Gin…"

"Ron," said Harry warningly.

"MY LINE TO CROSS," Ginny leaned forward and whispered back furiously through gritted teeth.

"Ginny, he's just…" began Hermione.

"It's not all about you, Ginny," said Ron fiercely, "Think about it…who was it that attacked Hermione last month and set the bloody dark mark over the school!?"

"Ron, drop it," Harry warned again.

"That was his father, you git. Not Draco…" spat out Ginny.

"Haven't yet noticed the resemblance in them, then have you?" Ron replied sarcastically.

Ginny sat back and narrowed her eyes dangerously at Ron. "How dare you judge him when he can't defend himself, Ron. You have no idea if Draco is like his father…"

"Look, let's just calm down, all right?" said Hermione holding up her hands in a pleading gesture.

"I have plenty of ideas on him, Gin and none of them are good," said Ron standing up angrily. "You don't think his father's just waiting to give Draco Voldemort's mark the moment he graduates this year!?"

"Ron, sit down…please…" said Harry.

Ginny's wide eyes now flashed so furiously that Hermione thought she might jump over the bed and start beating on her brother. "Well, Ron…I didn't know you were such a Legilimense. Who knew?" she seethed sardonically. "What I'm saying for those of us here too ruddy moronic to understand is that we have NO IDEA what Draco is going to choose, do we!?"

"And I guess his character thus far is no indicator!?" Ron shot back.

"Ron, you had best shut you're mouth while you're ahead…" began Ginny hotly but she never got to finish her sentence.

"Oh gods," Hermione cried out, staring down at Malfoy. "Ron…shut up and go get Madame Pomfrey…his lips are turning blue!"

Ginny squealed suddenly and dropped Malfoy's hand, falling to her knees beside his bed and staring into his face. His lips were indeed tinged blue, and the shallow breathing he was yet able to do now sounded congested and came out with a horrible gurgling, wheezing sound. His expression had finally changed, but it was one of distress now…and his eyes were turned on Ginny's face as if pleading her to help him take a breath. Ginny began to scream.

Ron took off out of the room and down the hallway to the left, out of sight, where he could be heard banging on Pomfrey's door and yelling for her to come.

Harry stood stiffly, looking at Ginny and Hermione.

"Do something!" Ginny's tearful face turned to Hermione and she desperately gripped at her robes. "Hermione, you're an assistant! Please for the love of Merlin, HELP HIM!"

Hermione turned her stricken face away from Ginny to look at Harry. "Harry, I don’t know what to do…I've never dealt with this before…"

Harry shook his head at her and turned to look at Malfoy who was now almost a grayish shade of blue. The gurgling sounds had almost stopped, but that meant that he wasn't fighting as hard to continue breathing.

" 'Mione..I…"

"Hermione, PLEASE!" Ginny screamed. She placed her mouth over Malfoy's and began breathing for him, but the air only whistled and crackled in his chest. "WHERE IS MADAME POMFREY!?" She screamed out in frustration before trying to breathe for Malfoy again.

Hermione placed her hands instinctively on Malfoy's chest, trying to feel whether or not the air was filling his lungs. He was now almost completely gray, and the blue was starting to fade. Come on, Malfoy, breathe! Don't do this…don't do this to Ginny…breathe…

"RON!" bellowed Harry anxiously, "What's taking so long! HURRY UP!"

Hermione pressed more firmly on Draco's colorless chest, not realizing she was doing it. Her mind was willing him to wake up…to fight…to breathe…

Ginny sobbed into his mouth as she continued puffing into his lungs but was realizing that she was losing the battle. Suddenly, when her lips came into contact with Malfoy's again, she received an electric shock that zapped her so badly that she yelled and broke contact with him.

"WHAT THE HELL…" exclaimed Harry, pulling Ginny away from him.

Ginny struggled in his grasp. "Harry, let me go for Merlin's sake…I have to help him!"

Harry held her arm more firmly and pointed to Hermione and Malfoy. "Ginny, look."

Hermione's eyes were closed, and she seemed to have lost all contact with anything else going on around her. As if she was in a trance, her head bowed low over Malfoy's chest, her hand began to glow a purplish gold color, and the light began to spread over Malfoy's chest and up towards his mouth. An electric field seemed to hover over the whole area, and Harry, along with Ginny vaguely noticed that the hair on their arms and heads was standing up at the roots.

Hermione's lips moved steadily, as if she were chanting some spell, and she still seemed unaware of what was going on around her. With a sudden gasp of pure astonishment, Ginny saw the grayness fading from Malfoy's skin, her tear-stained face beginning to drain of all color, much like his had been, but more out of shock than anything.

Breathe, Malfoy…don't do this to Ginny…take a breath…take in some oxygen…Merlin just let the bleeding stop…just let it disappear…just let him breathe…just wake up you idiot… Hermione continued to murmur and began to see the glow of light from behind her eyelids. When she finally opened her eyes, much wider than normal, she saw her hand as if it was glued to the Slytherin's chest, and the purplish glow that seemed to be permeating, digging beneath his skin, down into his body and outward again, as if forging some unseen trail. Her hair was now standing on end, and she saw that the glow had finally detached from her fingers to finish it's journey on Malfoy's body. As quickly as it had begun, the electricity winked out with a loud snap, and Hermione's hand suddenly came loose from his chest.

Without warning, with a gasp as if from the dead brought back to life, Malfoy's eyes abruptly shone with life, blinking rapidly, and his body arched up from the mattress.

Ginny screamed and Harry grabbed at Hermione, holding both she and Ginny to him and watching Draco with horror.

As soon as he exhaled, Draco's body dropped back onto the mattress, and he lay there for a moment, looking exhausted and thoroughly stunned, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Pomfrey in her robe and slippers, with Ron running behind her finally rushed to the bed, puffing in absolute terror. She put a hand on Malfoy's head and whispered. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me?" She paused for a moment and then turned to Ron, staring at him accusingly. "Mr. Weasley, is this you're idea of a some idiotic joke!? I assure you life and death is nothing to take lightly! He's not only still breathing, but he's awake!"

Ginny gasped and Hermione moved weakly up to stand beside Malfoy and Pomfrey to stare at him with eyes blurry with complete disbelief. What had just happened…what in Merlin's name had just happened…

No one said a word, until Malfoy turned his gray eyes to look at Hermione, not with the usual contempt, but with a look of wonder. "Granger?"

Ginny, Harry, Ron and Poppy's eyes all fell on her, and at that moment, Hermione, feeling weaker than she ever had before, opened her mouth to say something. But nothing escaped her lips but a breath of air, and she promptly passed out, Harry rushing behind to catch her just before she fell.

21. Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

Chapter 21: The Tie That Binds

Hermione willed herself to move, to speak; if only she could just move one foot in front of the other she might be able to do something about the horrible scene playing out before her now like some nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. The whole thing was impossibly wrong, false…this was not how it was supposed to be. Voldemort couldn't win…from the moment she'd met Harry Potter on the train some seven years ago, she'd known ultimately that the dark lord would be destroyed. Evil never won in the end, did it? Didn't good always ultimately come out on top?

Yet, here she was, staring at the immobilised forms of Harry, Ron; perpendicular to Harry, and herself, sprawled out at their feet. They were in the dark Forest of Kavan, she realised now, as she saw the burned out ruins of what must have been the dark lord's rebuilt home, now destroyed again.

Voldemort stood above them, tall, fully formed, and filled with an unholy glee as if he knew some secret that he was about to divulge. Death Eaters stood all around him, and…dementors? What were they doing there? Weren't they still guarding Azkaban? No…she reminded herself, they had defected. Of course, they had joined Voldemort. Who else was there to unite with? If they weren't with the ministry anymore there was only one other side to go.

Voldemort was addressing his followers, spouting off some egotistical speech he'd probably been planning for years in expectation of this very event. Hermione took that opportunity to gaze at herself, Harry and Ron on the ground. If she listened closely, she could hear what Harry was saying to them…

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…this is all my fault…"

"Shut up Harry," Ron's voice seemed hoarse and he turned his head as far to the side as he could. "You can't take all the blame for this you selfish git…We all failed…all of us."

"But I…"

"Ron's right," this was herself talking now, and Hermione leaned forward, almost in anguish herself at the painful expressions on the three faces. "We're all to blame…we all made the pact, remember? We're all in this together, we…"

All in what? Where was she? What in Merlin's name was going on!?

"Never mind," the Harry on the ground spoke up again, "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, I…but I won't die without telling you both how much you mean to me."

Ohmygod… So Voldemort was about to kill them… Hermione wondered to herself how she could've expected anything less…

Harry was taking one painful turn after another, pouring out last words of love and friendship to both she and Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to scream at him…to snap him out of his lethargy…to make him do something; after all, he almost didn't need his wand anymore… However, not a word escaped her mouth, not one sound from her throat. She was bound here to watch herself and the two most important people in the world to her die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd always hated the feeling of helplessness, even to the point of almost hating dependence on anything or anyone. But now the absolute tangibility of it washed over her like some giant tidal wave, shoving her down into the sand, scraping her body backward into the undertow, sapping her strength and stealing her breath.

Voldemort was now gesturing around himself to his followers like a king addressing his army. "With the death of these comes the dawning of a new era…A time in which darkness will rule once again…"

Hermione tried desperately to scream, waving her arms and willing the three on the ground to turn their heads and see her, but nothing happened. It was as if she were in a dream. All she could do was watch the three captives on the ground grow increasingly despondent. Please get up...please do something! DON'T GIVE UP!

"…Ron…you're like my brother. Y…you don't know how much you mean to me…"

Merlin, ohgod, anyone...oh my god, he's coming toward them…

" 'Mione, I love you so much…You'll never know…how much…"

NO PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN...

"Harry, don't…" the Hermione on the ground was sobbing now, as much as she was.

"I wish I could've had more time with you. I don't know why we can't…but I want you to know, you mean everything to me."

The Hermione watching fell to her knees in torment, blind to the fact that on either side of her knelt two others doing the same thing…hands to their faces, screaming in silence, trying in vain to move forward, to intercede. Unknown to her, she mouthed at the same time the exact words that her counter-self, lying on the ground, responded to Harry with in utter agony.

"O god Harry, I love you too…"

No more words were said because Voldemort had chosen that moment to finish his speech and was now bearing forward toward them, followed closely by two Death Eaters.

"You two take whichever you want," he said, and moved with practised ease and an expression of rapture over toward Harry. "But Potter's mine."

After these words were spoken, Hermione could hear no more. Her hearing was beginning to fade and she realised with a sickening jerk downward of her heart, that this was not going to end the way she had hoped.

She watched in pure horror as Lucius Malfoy lowered the hood of his black robe and murdered Ron with one lazy movement of his wand. She watched with a sick lurch of her stomach as the Hermione on the ground turned to Harry and gave him one last unheard admonishment, and perhaps a goodbye, before the other Death Eater killed her as well.

Finally, as it was only Harry left to deal with, the sky above her suddenly grew darker. She realised that it had begun growing darker the moment Ron had died, but now, the change was all the more noticeable. What was once the orange, pink and dusky purple of a new dawn had now turned to a dark ashen grey, and some of the clouds that swept the sky had suddenly turned into a horrendous tornado, stabbed frequently with huge bolts of red lightning. The vortex came whirling towards the group on the ground, roaring louder and louder the closer it approached, and finally halted to hover above Voldemort's head. Rather than being alarmed by this fact however, the dark lord looked up into the eye of it as if greeting an old friend, and turned his attention back to Harry, who lay on the ground with a look on his face that voiced his indifference now to the situation. Hermione knew the moment he had seen Ron and her die that he had given up the will to fight. He had no emotion left…none even for himself.

She watched, paralysed with shock, as Voldemort chose a killing curse for Harry; watched as Harry twitched in the last throes of death, and as she began to slip gradually into unconsciousness, watched, through half-blinded eyes as the dark lord opened his mouth abnormally wide, jaw magically unhinged, and began to swallow the vortex whole.

Ruby red lightning now stabbed the rest of the sky, thunder roared like a giant beast, and the dark grey clouds above began roiling and surging like a gigantic whirlpool, like the forming of a massive black hole…like the earth mourning for the darkness fallen.

As she slipped away, Hermione's last thoughts were not for herself, for Ron, even for Harry, but for what the wizarding, and muggle worlds had just lost with the death of them. The prophecy had foretold that either Harry or Voldemort would die… 'FOR NONE CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…' she'd just never dreamed that it would be Harry Potter.

Void. Emptiness. Darkness, whole and unbroken… drained of light. There would be none any longer. Light had just died.

****************

"Hermione love, wake up!" Harry frantically tapped on her cheek once, twice…and still she cried as if her heart had just been ripped away. He couldn't get through to her. "RON! Go get Madame Pomf…"

"I'm on it." Ron scrambled from his seat on the side of Hermione's bed and flew down the hallway once again to get Madame Pomfrey, but this time she'd heard the scream and was already sprinting down the hallway.

Ginny, perched on the side of Draco's bed beside Hermione's, was abruptly turned from her conversation with him and her mouth gaped open as she watched Hermione sob hysterically, while Harry tried to soothe her.

"What's wrong with her…" drawled Draco remotely as if asking about something as mundane as the weather. He sat up with a short grunt and peered around Ginny.

Harry didn't answer and continued his ministrations with Hermione, but his jaw was locked tight with anger. Hermione had just saved the bastard's life and he sounded about as concerned as a curious bystander.

"Move aside," said Madame Pomfrey briskly as she dropped to her knees beside Hermione's head.

Harry backed away beside Ron as Pomfrey took Hermione's face in her hands and with one hand, gave her cheek a hard slap.

Harry surged forward angrily, only just held back by Ron. "What in the hell do you think you're…"

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around wildly, finally, hesitantly bringing her hand up to rest on her stinging cheek and blinking hard to get her bearings back. She stared up at Poppy with a hurtful expression.

Ron grunted in surprise at the nurse's actions. "Modern medicine…"

Pomfrey gazed at Hermione apologetically. "You were hysterical Ms. Granger. I'm sorry I struck you. Was it a nightmare?"

"A nightmare…" repeated Hermione, wiping away stray tears; quite the understatement. However, she imagined had Pomfrey not slapped her to bring her awake, she might have continued in the awful imagery for longer. "Yes. The worst kind."

Harry moved back to her side, sitting on the side of her bed and taking her face in his hands, tenderly wiping away remaining tears with his thumbs. He helped her to sit up and she sat back against the headboard, fighting off the dizzying spell that threatened to make her sick.

Pomfrey sighed. "I thought as much. Well…are you all right now? Do you need anything?"

"I need to get out of this infirmary," said Hermione in an annoyed tone. "I've spent way too much time in here lately and I've got too much work to make up for to be setting up residence in here like this!"

"That's our Hermione," said Ron dryly.

"Yeah," said Harry with a relieved expression. "I think she'll be all right now."

Pomfrey pursed her lips and shook her head, insisting on giving Hermione a thorough check up before "being the judge of that", as she put it.

A few minutes later, she declared Hermione 'fit as a flying fyxofloggle' and gave her permission to leave if she wished, but not before giving her one last admonishment.

"All right then Ms. Granger, you may go. I'm letting you leave because you've been through a great deal tonight and I don't want to put you through anymore. However, I want you to know I've never seen anything such as what you performed tonight. So I think soon as you're up for it, we'll need to have a chat with Headmaster Dumbledore. I don’t know what this means, but I tell you the truth…I've never before witnessed healing powers such as you've shown. Never. We need to know what this means."

All eyes focused on Hermione and she nodded slowly, thinking to herself the exact same thing.

"You will help her back then, won't you two?" asked Pomfrey to Harry and Ron. She spared a glance at the infirmary clock on the wall and saw that the thermometer and syringe hands were pointing at four a.m. and flashing with a resounding (dawn in two and quarter hours).

"Great Godric's Ghost, look at the time," she exclaimed tiredly. "Well if you all can keep yourselves out of trouble long enough, we might all spare a good few hours of sleep. Do you think you five can scrub round calamity for that long?"

"I reckon we'll give it a go," smirked Ron.

Pomfrey scowled at him and planted her tired, purple-ringed eyes on Ginny. "You too, Ms. Weasley. Time you were out for a proper sleep. Tomorrow is Sunday but I gather you need to rest as well."

Ginny nodded and stood up. "Thank you Madame Pomfrey. I'll leave straight away."

Pomfrey nodded back to her and then to all of them. "Well, goodnight then." She padded back down the hallway and out of sight.

Ginny then turned coolly to Malfoy, who studied her just as coolly back. "Well…I may come visit you tomorrow…time permitting and all. No promises though."

Malfoy sat up a little more, groaning a bit painfully but managing all the same to look supremely unaffected. "None needed. Don't lump it just for me, Red. It might be brutally hard, but I'll try to muck through without your company."

Ron scowled at their verbal bantering. He'd heard Malfoy's snide comments before, but these seemed different somehow,…it seemed almost as if they were…teasing…each other. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively. He'd be damned if he'd let Ginny start something with the little maggot. Over his rotting body…

Harry helped Hermione to her feet with a look in his eyes that promised a great deal of conversation to be had once they reached their rooms. She nodded to him and simultaneously took hold of Ron's arm.

"What!?" He growled, turning sharply as he thought it was Harry. When he saw the frown on Hermione's face, he softened. "Sorry there, 'Mione. I'm just a little…on edge."

"Three guesses as to why," said Harry with a glance Ginny and Malfoy's way.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Let it go, Ron. Ginny is sixteen years old and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Besides, do you really think she's just going to bow to your will? You know her better than that."

"I just need to try harder to make her understand," said Ron hotly, glancing at the two still talking behind them. "He's dangerous, mates."

"We don't know that," said Hermione softly.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "You're not serious Hermione. What about all of his leanings toward Voldemort's views, huh? What about the fact that his father is a Death Eater? You can't seriously think he's on our side, can you?"

"As much as I hate saying it Harry," said Hermione, linking her arm with his as they moved toward the infirmary doors. "Innocent until proven guilty. And Professor Dumbledore said that, didn't he?"

"Yes he did love," said Harry with a strict look in his eyes. "And here's hoping it applies to Malfoy, because after seven years of knowing him, he's not looking too spotless."

Hermione frowned but chose not to respond and turned around to beckon toward Ron. "Ron…come with us, will you? I know it's really late but what Harry and I need to talk about concerns you too."

Ron sighed, finally conceding that Ginny was purposefully ignoring his gaze of death and moved to follow Harry and Hermione out of the infirmary, but a voice behind the three stopped them.

"Granger…"

Hermione stiffened. She had hoped to be able to sneak out without having to talk to Malfoy. She couldn't imagine for the life of her what he'd have to say to her. None of what he'd ever had to say to her was good. Most consisted of name-calling.

She felt Harry and Ron grow instantly rigid beside her but turned anyway.

"Look," she began quietly, not meeting his eyes. "It's really late. Can we just skip all of the…"

"Thank you."

Out of all the things Hermione had envisioned Malfoy saying to her in that moment, 'thank you' was definitely not one of them. She had expected some nasty remark; some inappropriate, ugly comment about being touched by a 'mudblood' or some other such nonsense. She realised that she had turned around and was moving her lips without a sound. Harry and Ron seemed to be equally as thunderstruck. Neither said a word.

Malfoy looked either slightly embarrassed or somewhat uncomfortable, but he pressed on irritatedly anyway. It was apparent by the look on Ginny's face that she hadn't expected this turn of events either.

"I mean it. I don't know what you did, but…I a..apr…appreciate it. Thank you."

That such simple words could so thoroughly stun her…Hermione's eyes widened. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, the three of them might somehow be able to get along with him after all; if they could just all come to an understanding of each other. Maybe Ron might someday be able to accept Ginny and Malfoy's relationship…whatever that was. However, Ron chose that moment to do a dumb thing.

"She didn't do it for you, ferret. She did it for Ginny." He looked irately from Ginny to Malfoy, whose hand was way to close to his sisters for his comfort.

At that moment, any semblance of civility went out the door as abruptly as it had snuck in. Hermione looked down and placed a hand over her face, then looking up at Ron.

"Ron…I can't believe you just…"

"Don't believe anyone asked for your opinion, Weasel," said Draco, now with the cool hard edge to his voice that the trio knew him by. "And on top of that, you can ruddy well kiss my arse you trumped up piece of shit."

"Come round and bend over then. Let's see what happens…" said Ron dangerously, balling up his fists.

Ginny reddened with fury and stood. "In case you've missed it Ron, he's got a broken arm and leg…and I swear to Merlin I'll never speak to you again if you…"

"Ron, let's go." Harry took a firm hold of his arm and began pulling him out of the infirmary.

"You stay away from my sister you son of a bloody Death Eater!" Ron yelled out furiously as Harry yanked him out of the door and let it swing shut with a resounding bang.

Son of a bloody Death Eater…The sound of it rang through the room for a few moments before Ginny turned toward Draco again.

"I'm really sorry, Draco. He had no right saying…"

"Maybe you should go then," said Malfoy in a glacial, dismissive voice that he'd not quite used with Ginny before.

Ginny paused, mouth still open to form another word, and looked at Draco as if he'd just formed a second head. "What?"

"Go on then," barked Draco with a hard, yet smooth edge to his voice. "Didn't think I really needed you, did you? I don't need anyone. Though I do use them for a while if the urge comes on. You didn't honestly think you and I could..be…OH. I guess you did then," he finished cruelly.

Ginny looked simply floored and felt her eyes filling, her face flushing hot.

"Well," continued Malfoy with an air of complete nonchalance, "Life's full of brutal lessons, isn't it? SO…Life lesson number one, Red: don't trust anyone. There's not a person in this world who won't let you down."

Ginny stood for a long moment, peering searchingly into his face; eyes filled with unshed tears, swallowing reflexively. Then, she did something Malfoy totally hadn't expected from her. She calmed completely down.

When she spoke, her voice was icy and even. "All right then. I'll go if it's what you want. I have to tell you though Draco…I'm highly disappointed."

With that she turned on her heels and began to march composedly toward the door, yanking up her discarded Quidditch wrist and kneepads in her wake.

Draco became even more infuriated and sat straight up in his bed, ignoring the pain in his arm and leg from the shift. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ginny whirled around. "Now you want me to stay? Which is it? I don't have time for games."

He ignored her question. "Just what the bloody hell do you mean by 'highly disappointed'!?"

Ginny smirked, completely in control of her emotions. It felt good. "Exactly that. I just thought you were your own person, that's all."

Draco thinned his lips. "Again I ask, what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!?"

Finally, Ginny got mad. She tossed down the Quidditch gear and strode over to his bed, pointing a shaking finger in his face and effectively stunning him into silence. "If I had my wand with me I'd put a bat bogey hex on you that would make the one I gave you two years ago look like frickin CHILD'S PLAY," she hissed furiously. She felt her blood boiling, but visibly tried to calm herself. She finished her sentence with a cool sort of detachment of which Malfoy had only thought himself capable.

"I'm surprised at you. Here I thought you were always so in control, so self assured, so confident in yourself and who you are…but one word from my brother makes you doubt yourself so much you'll push away the only real friend you've ever had."

"Don't act as if you really know me, Red," snarled Draco angrily with narrowed eyes. "No one does!"

"WHOSE FAULT IS THAT!?" roared Ginny furiously, close to his face. "If there's anything I DO know, it's this…you can be whoever you want to be! You can turn into whatever type of person you choose! You don't have to follow your father! You don't have to act a bastard because it's expected of you! You don't have to be a damn PRICK just because my brother and his friends think you are! And you don't have to push me away because your scared I'll agree with them…because like you…I have a mind of my own! And right now, my mind is telling me to get the hell out of this room!"

With every word, Draco felt his icy interior thawing. She believed in him. She actually believed there was more to him than what met the eye; that he might in fact have the decency in him to turn out differently. And along with the awesome feeling of letting his guard begin to slip for once, he found a furious, fiery, completely in control Ginny to be a massive turn-on. He would finally admit to himself much later that the combining of those two emotions would prove to be the downfall of the usual Draco Malfoy.

With a look that told him that she'd had enough of him and that he could most certainly go to hell, Ginny turned to leave, but Malfoy caught her hand and pulled her down to the bed beside him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're…"

However, Ginny's words were muffled and ultimately cut off by the hand that suddenly gripped behind her head and yanked her into a hard, aroused, heated, and most desperately passionate kiss. A kiss so full of desire, so full of a hot powerful, drumming need; craving, pent up emotion that had just begun to spill out, that it left her breathless and trembling; weak because of it. For a moment, she was stunned breathless; then all of her anger surged upward and she replaced it with an appetite for him that was just as intense.

How dare you..push me away, she thought. She returned the bruising pressure; wrapping one arm around his good side…mouths pressing together hungrily, yearning, succumbing to the downward rhythms his mouth was pushing her with towards the bed.

Draco increased the urgency, sliding his tongue into her mouth, filling her, tasting her, needing her…YES. Needing her… Don't think you know me…

Don't think you can control me. N..no one c..controls me… Ginny felt a fluttering heat just under her ribcage, one that travelled deliciously downward…

Draco laid her back and rolled halfway on top of her, keeping the pressure firm but moving slowly owing to the pain in his newly mended arm and leg… I can... make up my own damn mind... He felt his precious self-control, the one thing he truly owned in and of himself beginning to slip away. He began to mould his body to hers… pressing, rhythmic, demanding, firmness meeting curves…

His blonde hair, normally smoothed back, had now begun falling wildly over his forehead. The natural freedom of it, at least to Ginny, somehow served to mimic something inward. A side he kept hidden from the rest of the world…the side that was passionate; the side that felt.

She'd been kissed before, but never, never like this. She'd never known anything like him; so smooth, so sensual, so blindly knowledgeable, demanding, intensely bent on ownership. His body moved over hers so slowly, so deliberately slowly… N..no one tells me wh..what to do... I can make up my own damn mi...my...mygod...

Draco felt himself hardening, felt Ginny beneath him whimpering into his mouth her loss of control, and felt his own fears releasing… I can make up my own damn mind…she's right.

His lips finally lifted from hers, faces close, breathless, flushed, overwhelmed with a long denied want and pent up frustration. He felt himself throbbing with need and knew by the movements she made underneath him, with eyes half-lidded and glazed with passion that she was too. This meant, if he truly cared about her, and he did (damn her), that he would need to stop this right now. But gods, it felt too good to just let go…

Ginny pushed him upward with a reserve of control she wasn't sure she had and wriggled out from underneath him, causing a groan from him that could only be described as primal. She smiled shakily and sat up, pausing for a moment to control her laboured breathing before speaking.

"There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Her tone belied the fact that she felt totally powerless now where he was concerned, but it didn't hurt to have him think otherwise.

The smouldering look Draco gave her was enough to make Ginny squirm. He licked his lips. "Damn you, Red."

Ginny smirked. "I think you just lost control."

"I could say the same," countered Malfoy, crossing his unsplinted arm over the other, covering his bare chest. "And Malfoy's don't lose control. We just put it aside when the mood suits us…and it definitely suited me."

Ginny stood and began smoothing down her long hair. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

She began to walk toward the door, swinging her hips more than needed, until a final soft word from Malfoy stopped her.

"Ginny…"

That low, sensual tone…smooth as silk. The word travelled across the room and moved over her like a caress. She could almost feel his eyes raking her…those grey, smoky, seductive eyes… She shuddered and closed her own for a moment before turning around.

"Yes?"

Malfoy smiled then, a slow lecherous upcurving of his lips and a downward cock of his head that made her tremble. "Come visit me tomorrow."

After reminding herself to take a breath, she smiled back at him. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me Ginny."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

She decided to return the seductive look. "Call me Red."

With that, Ginny left the room feeling light and airy, buzzing full of something she couldn't define, and leaving Malfoy slumped in his bed feeling the exact same things.

*******************************************

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat themselves in front of the warm fire glowing orange and yellow in the head boy and girl's common room. Harry had fetched a quilt for Hermione and had wrapped it snugly around her before joining her on the couch, with Ron on her other side. The quiet in the room after the day's crazy events was certainly welcome, and Hermione sat for a few moments with her favourite boys content to just soak up the silence. She and Harry didn't mind letting Ron share in their little hideaway every now and then, though with his relationship with Lavender blossoming the way it seemed to be, he rarely interrupted them anyway. The three had almost settled into a routine. Trio time was done after school…a couple of hours of fun and relaxation followed by a few hours of studying. Then Harry and Hermione would retreat by themselves, leaving Ron to spend the rest of the evening with Lavender. Sometimes though, it was nice to just have the three of them together in Harry and Hermione's private common room; to pretend they were all eleven again and naïve to the world's problems. Ron was always welcome. However, with what they had to discuss tonight, childishness, peace, and quiet would have to wait.

Harry was the first to break the silence. "So…do you want to tell us what that was back there?"

Hermione looked rueful and drew the quilt tightly about her, sidling closer to Harry's side. "Which part? There were so many."

"The part where your glowing hand was stuck to Malfoy's chest," said Ron, slumped on the couch and keeping his eyes planted on the dancing flames before him. "The part where he was suddenly all right when only seconds before he was ready to kick it… and let's not forget the part where you fell out afterward…"

"I get your point," said Hermione drolly.

Harry sighed and put his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. "Do you know what happened, love?"

"No, I really don't," said Hermione a little shakily. "One moment I was completely overwhelmed what with Ginny hysterical and begging me to help…I put my hand on Malfoy's chest to see if I could feel him breathing. I remember thinking things to myself…just begging him not to die, willing the bleeding to stop; willing him to take a breath, and then…my hand was joined to his chest. I felt this…this warmth spread over me; this energy that I've never experienced before. I remember feeling it flow from me into him, and when I could finally lift my hand… I was so weak I could barely move."

"…And the little rotter was all right again," said Ron bitterly.

"Don't sound so overjoyed," said Hermione a little coldly. "However we may think on him Ron, he's still a person. He doesn't deserve to die."

Ron shook his head in frustration. "I don't want him to die for Merlin's sake. I just want him to naff off Ginny."

"Once again Ron," said Harry, shifting a bit in his seat, "Ginny is sixteen. She can make up her own mind. Odds are she will… In any case, we've more important things to think on now."

"More important that my sister arsing about with Lucius Malfoy's son!?" asked Ron a little hotly, sitting up and peering around Hermione at Harry.

"Yeah Ron, for the moment," said Harry with hard sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione spoke up to intercede before the two began arguing. "I've something else to tell you two. About the dream I had."

"The nightmare?" said Ron.

Hermione nodded and tore her eyes away from the fire to look from Ron to Harry. "It was the worst I've ever had. The worst I hope to ever have."

" 'Mione," said Harry gently, "I've had nightmares. That's all they are; just nightmares."

"This was different," said Hermione with conviction in her voice. "There was something almost…futuristic about it; like a warning."

Ron smirked at her. "Thinking of nicking Trelawny's position? Hermione Granger…Seer extraordinaire."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Ronald Weasley…Potions expert. Professor Snape's right hand man."

Ron frowned at her. "Hermione…that was below the belt."

She rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "When I blacked out, I felt as if I fell instantly into the dream. It was as if no time passed where I just slept. I closed my eyes in the infirmary…and I opened them in the Kavan Forest; back in the dark little clearing where Voldemort held me captive year last. His cabin looked as if it had been rebuilt and destroyed again. Voldemort was there, and Harry…he had his body back."

Hermione suddenly noticed that both Harry and Ron had stiffened, and Harry in particular stared intensely at her as if his very life now hung on her words. She had expected them to take her dream seriously, but the fervour with which they were listening began to make her uneasy.

"What is it…?" she asked warily.

"Keep on," said Harry. Ron merely nodded at her.

She glanced suspiciously at them and continued. "We were all three there. It was as if I was watching from the outside looking on. I couldn't move, speak, or do anything to change what was happening. We were immobilised; laid out in a strange sort of pattern I can't remember. Voldemort was talking to Death Eaters and Dementors…telling them they would be rewarded as promised. Then…" Hermione felt her throat tighten and closed her eyes to ward off the tears that threatened to spill out again. The thought of the horrendous things she had witnessed, although it had only been a nightmare, was enough to make her begin to tremble. Ron took her hand, and Harry squeezed her tighter to him.

"Then," she managed to choke out, "Voldemort decided it was time for us to die. Lucius Malfoy killed you, Ron…another did me. The sky had begun to change, to grow darker and more threatening the moment the first of us died. Voldemort decided he wanted the honour of killing you himself." She glanced up at Harry. An ominous frown was stamped on his face and he sat deathly still, his eyes planted on the fire in the hearth, but staring through the flames.

"Right before you died," she continued a bit tremulously, "it was darkest of all. A horrible tornado swirled across the sky and came to rest right above Voldemort. When…wh..when he…killed you…after you died…he swallowed it whole. I just remember the look on his face. He opened his mouth so wide." Hermione shuddered violently. "It was the maddest look I've ever seen."

Harry looked deeply troubled now, and Ron, Ron looked as if he was about to pass out himself. Hermione looked from one to the other and a fear began to spread throughout her body as if her blood were rushing it to every part at once.

"What is it!?" She finally cried out. "What has you two so jarred!? Harry, you said yourself it was only a nightmare…"

"I've had that dream Hermione," said Ron quietly. "The very same."

Harry jerked round to look at him.

"What!?" Hermione felt as if a swarm of bees had just been set loose inside her body. "No Ron. That can't be. Maybe it was just similar to…"

"No," said Ron firmly, "it was that exact dream. I remember watching us lay there. I couldn't move…I couldn't speak. I remember giving our good-byes. Harry said I was just like his brother. He said he wished he had more time with you. He told you he loved you."

Hermione sucked in a breath that sounded more like a sob, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "Yes!"

Ron lowered his eyebrows, his face a mixture of fear and confusion. "I don't know what this means…"

"Harry?" Hermione turned to Harry, who hadn't yet spoken.

He turned troubled eyes to stare deeply into hers, and then at Ron. "I don't know what it means either…because I had it first. The same bloody dream this summer at the Dursley's."

For a moment, Hermione felt as if she were floating back in a fantasy world again, as if she might wake up the next moment and everything would turn normal once more. Nevertheless, she knew by the looks on Harry and Ron's faces that what they were discussing was all too real.

Suddenly Ron looked up to Harry as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Harry! Do you remember that day in Divination? When Trelawny turned rigid and started spouting bosh on how the dark one was coming? Something about…' the forces of light will scarce stand against it…the triangle must come together…' "

"Yes," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I remember what you told me…' she also said the circle must be made whole…he must learn what he was born to perform…he must train…' I…I think the pattern we were laid in the dream now I think on it…it was a triangle!"

Harry nodded then and spoke up. " 'Only the covenant of the triangle will stop them; only the joining of the circle will make him strong enough.' I still don't get the circle…She said some Latin phrases too, though I don't remember them."

Hermione sighed loudly. "Honestly Harry. This could be one of the most important prophecies we've heard and you don't think to write everything down once you've heard it? For the love of Godric…" She got up a little huffily and strode into her room.

Harry looked exasperated at Ron and shrugged. "What? How should I know when the old bag's had an actual 'premonition'!? Most of them are rot anyway."

"Don't ask me mate," said Ron a little chagrined. "I never wrote any of it down."

Hermione exited her room soon after with a small rolled up piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle, and made her way over to she and Harry's small library in the back of the common room, plucking three thick, dusty volumes from off of the shelves.

"I wrote down the whole of the prophecy in case we needed to think on it again," said Hermione officiously, walking round the couch and plopping down beside them. She dropped the books on the couch and unrolled the parchment, glancing over it reproachfully at Harry and Ron. "Let's see…" She mumbled the words she read under her breath until she found what she was looking for. "Here it is! Sodalis tria…Evalesco Leo… She repeats it a few times…"

"Well that's all gash to me," said Ron, flopping back against the couch again. "What's it mean then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, looking frustrated with them again. "Mingin' Merlin…are you two ever going to study up your Latin? Don't you ever think on the definition of the words we use in our spells?"

"Not often," said Harry flippantly. "I just worry they get the job done."

"Right on," said Ron lazily.

Hermione huffed with displeasure but smiled anyway. "Well fortunately for you two, I do." She held up three copies of Demonstrative Latin Lingo, Volumes D-F, J-L, and S-U, and instantly brightened.

"Isn't it wonderful!?" she beamed happily. "I've been scanning our little library here in my spare time, and see what they've given us!? An entire set of Latin dictionaries! Harry, I'll wager you need quite a bit of dusting up with your Latin. We can study on it later, starting with Volume one, A-C. I'll quiz you!"

Harry looked at her shining face and smiled weakly. "Can't wait."

Ron snuck Harry a look of pity while Hermione scanned the volume excitedly. Finally, she came up for air.

"Here's the first word," she said a little breathlessly. "Sodalis. It means…society or fellowship."

Harry peered over her shoulder but she snapped the book closed and quickly charmed her quill to begin writing. The quill jumped upright, dipped itself into the inkbottle and wrote the word 'society' on the parchment in Hermione's tidy scrawl.

"Now then," said Hermione business-like as she picked up the second volume, "Next word."

She flipped through S-U until she found what she was looking for. "Tria…three. Should've known that one." The quill scratched down the word. The next two words were equally as simple to find. Evalesco ended up meaning 'power', and Leo, obviously, 'lion'.

When it was finished, the quill threw itself down flat on the table and Hermione snatched up the parchment.

"Sodalis tria…The 'fellowship of three', I suppose. And Evalesco Leo… 'power of the lion'."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Well…that says it all then doesn't it? It's obvious we're the fellowship of three, you Ron and I; you two are closest to me. And 'the power of the lion'…we're all in Gryffindor."

"I wonder," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Are we to make some sort of covenant with each other, then? Some sort of magical pact? According to what Trelawny said…"

However, Ron, now musing thoughtfully with his chin in his hand, spoke up with a quiet voice full of a wisdom he felt he couldn't define. "I think we've done it already."

Harry frowned at him. "Huh? What're you on about? Some magical coming together? I don't think so…"

"I don't think it's meant to be magical Harry," said Ron giving the two of them a piercing look. "Do you remember when the three of us became real friends? Not just you and I Harry, but all three of us."

Harry took a moment to think back. The three of them had been so close for so long that it seemed he had a lifetime's worth of memories to sort through. However, the answer came to him quickly.

"Our first year…that day with the troll. You remember love?" Harry smirked and turned to Hermione who sat looking at the two of them with a wistful smile on her face.

"Well…Very well." she said quietly. "When I lied to Professor McGonnagol…I'd never thought I would lie to a teacher. I'd never thought I would ever break a rule! But you two were worth it…worth any trouble I might have got into. I think we all knew right then we'd do anything for each other."

"Still do," smiled Ron. "And that day…that was the day we made the covenant. It may have been without words, but it was a pact all the same. I think we all knew it on some level. Maybe it just took us this long to understand it. Maybe that's what the prophecy is about…just realising it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ron knew he had hit on it. Something amazing began to happen; something static and energised… The warm air in the room suddenly hummed thick with power. Needle thin strands of light; blue and purple and green came from nowhere and buzzed above their heads, making the hair on their heads stand; lighting the room with a swirling kaleidoscope of colour…an electrical storm so tangible that they felt they could reach out and touch the discharge on their fingertips. Power blew around them like a warm breeze, leaving a metallic taste on their tongues and covering their skin in gooseflesh.

Hermione hugged herself, feeling as if the sudden eerie display should have frightened her, frightened them all, and yet, she felt calm, peaceful somehow. It was as if she'd always known there was something more; something just out of reach. Perhaps it had just not yet been the time…

The electricity stopped its movement and began dying away, each strand converging together to form a bright golden colour and finally cracking out of existence. The room was instantly shadowed and warmed only by the fire once again.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat staring at each other for some time; eyes wide with surprise but calm, hearts beating fast, but with the strange knowledge that what had just happened wasn't as foreign to them as they would have thought. Nothing about themselves had changed, just the knowledge that their friendship, their supposed chance meeting and consequential friendship, wasn't as random as they had thought. In fact, it had never been haphazard at all…

************************************

As it happened, neither Harry nor Hermione got much sleep, having only just dropped exhausted onto Harry's bed by six o'clock the next morning. Dawn seemed to rise extra early, but Harry had set his drapes to stay closed until he opened them himself, so he ended up waking on his own with Hermione still nestled closely into him sleeping soundly at around ten Sunday morning.

Oddly enough, his first thoughts when waking earlier than he had intended was that he wanted to talk to his father. Talking with Sirius was damned near impossible as Dumbledore had warned him to use the floo only when absolutely necessary to keep his fugitive godfather safe. In addition, although he knew he could share anything with Sirius, somehow Harry wanted to share what had happened last night with his father. Somehow, for some reason, he had woken earlier than he had intended with the immediate feeling that he was now ready to have a real heart-to-heart with James.

He felt, without understanding why, that the current state of his life was drawing to a close, to some sort of ending. He hoped that meant that a new beginning was waiting in the wings, though he wasn't so naïve as to think that he was invincible. The truth was that when he finally did meet Voldemort again, if he really was as powerful now as the shared dream had lead them to believe, he might not make it out alive. He wanted all loose ends tied up if that was to be the case. He wanted the chance to clear everything up with his father …and to know as much about he and his mother as he possibly could.

Harry eased himself onto his elbow carefully so as not to disturb Hermione and gazed tenderly down at her sleeping form. Gods, what he would give to be able to promise her that everything was going to turn out all right. To promise that they would all make it through the last battle with Voldemort unscathed; that they would be able to grow old together, he with her, and Ron with whomever he chose.

He wanted to be able to tell her that he could see them all together some ten years from now, sitting on the front porch of one of their houses, laughing with each other and watching their children romping playfully together in the grass.

Not for the first time, Harry smiled ruefully at the fact that if he were a normal boy of seventeen, the thought of marriage and a yard full of children would be the last thing on his mind. However, Harry was far from a normal boy of seventeen. He had already lived through a lifetime's worth of sorrow and had had to endure far more than his share of worry. He knew he'd had to grow up a lot sooner than most others do. He didn't however feel sorry for himself; it was just fact. Such was the life of the boy-who-lived. He looked down at Hermione's curled up form once more and gently smoothed her hair down. He'd often thought to himself that a more appropriate title would have been the boy-who-survived. After all, he hadn't really had the chance to live yet, had he? Surely, there was more to life than mere survival.

Harry sighed and put away his thoughts, carefully extracting his arm from under Hermione's waist and easing slowly out of the bed. After pulling on a black jumper and a worn pair of jeans and trainers, he pulled the golden quilt up to Hermione's shoulders, planted a soft kiss on her cheek and headed out of his portrait door.

After failing to find his father in his classroom, the great hall, the teacher's lounge, or his quarters, Harry had a good idea of where he might search next.

To his surprise, the halls leading outside were almost empty, but once he opened the great doors to the school and blinked his way into the bright chilly autumn morning, he understood why. Hogwarts grounds were littered with students; some lying together on blankets, studying and reading, others playing Hell or Hex, (Dean had obviously got the raw end of the deal as he was currently being forced to plant a kiss on a raging, struggling grindylow. Seamus and Neville were nearby howling with laughter).

Some headed towards the Quidditch pitch, brooms in hand, and others simply lounged peacefully near the lake where the giant squid was out in full force, waving to the students from afar as it was too cold for anyone to swim. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, but as Harry crunched his way across the multicoloured grounds littered with fallen leaves towards Hagrid's hut where, a plume of smoke was rising lazily from the chimney, it was almost impossible for him to appreciate it. He marvelled as he passed fellow students smiling and laughing together, playing or preparing for tests, that there were still people in the world who worried about things as mundane as schoolwork or the next Quidditch match, or anything of such small importance for that matter. Voldemort was back with a vengeance, strange things were happening with he and his friends, he had, at best, a floundering relationship with his father whom he had thought dead for the last sixteen years, and had only the world's nastiest relatives to fall back on in the way of family.

Nevertheless, Harry stopped then and mentally raged at himself. He had Sirius, Ron, who was like a brother to him, not to mention the entire Weasley household, and Hermione…beautiful, amazing Hermione. Hermione who truly loved the real him and not just his image; Hermione who held him grounded; Hermione who had always believed in him to a fault; Hermione who kept his faith; Hermione, who was to him like water to a man trapped in the driest desert. Harry smiled to himself. He had nothing to regret. He was the richest man alive.

The door to Hagrid's hut was open, probably to let in fresh air. As Harry approached, sure enough, there sat Lupin, sharing a pot of tea with Hagrid, and looking strangely dwarfed by the giant's huge table and chairs. Harry smiled again as he heard Hagrid's roaring laughter resounding off the walls of his large hut, and at Lupin, grasping a huge teacup and grinning madly.

"Well, 'Arry!" boomed Hagrid, catching sight of Harry as he approached with hands crammed in the pockets of his jeans. " I was wunnerin' when you'd come ter visit me agin! Yer father n' me were jes' swappin' stories 'bout our days back at school, there. Sounds ter me like we was roun' a 'bout one an' th' same as far as trouble makin' went!"

Harry smiled. "I can only imagine." He entered the hut, noting the look of pleasant surprise Lupin gave him as he approached.

"I'll wager you can do more'n imagine, there." Said Hagrid, giving him a keen glance over his teacup. "You an' yours 'ave 'ad your share then, 'aven't ya?"

Harry grinned passively back at him. "Well, I reckon it's more like trouble finds us than the other way round."

"That's how Sirius and I always saw it." said Lupin. "Hello son."

"Professor," Harry nodded back.

Hagrid caught that Harry had not called Lupin 'dad' and frowned very slightly. However, all Harry noticed was that Hagrid had called Lupin his 'father' and that Lupin had called him son in front of the giant.

"I guess you've been updated then," said Harry to Hagrid as he leaned tiredly against the doorjamb.

Hagrid faltered for a moment. It wouldn't do Harry or his dad's relationship any good for Harry to know how Hagrid had raged at James for the better part of an hour when he'd found who he really was, about how his son had grown up without him. James had taken it though as if he'd deserved every condemning word, and had thanked Hagrid for loving Harry as much as he did. He'd explained his actions to the giant as well as he could, and Hagrid, after understanding him a bit more, had decided to try to get to know the elder Potter. They'd been spending bits of time together ever since.

Hagrid couldn't find proper words to answer Harry with. He spoke quietly. "I 'ave."

"I felt it would be easier that way," said Lupin straightforwardly. "I've only told the other professors though. I hope you're alright on that, Harry."

"Might as well," said Harry more easily than he felt. "It would have got out sooner or later. Dumbledore and McGonnagol already knew…how did the rest take it?"

Lupin sighed. "Well, they were surprised to say the least. Snape was in a right state. He hated me enough as Remus Lupin, but at least Remus was a bit sympathetic to him in school. I on the other hand…Well, suffice it to say I had a bit of an ego problem back then."

Harry paused and thought it best not to reveal to his father that he'd seen some of his behaviour in Snape's pensieve his fifth year. Besides, all else could wait for the moment.

"Sit an' 'ave a cuppa with us, then," said Hagrid beginning to get up to refill his huge kettle.

Harry held up a hand. "Could I come back later for it, Hagrid? I was hoping to have a talk with the professor if you don't mind."

Lupin turned to look at Harry once again, clear surprise etched in his features, but he was quick to take Harry up on the offer. Hagrid had begun to smile. It was obvious he thought some sort of breakthrough was on hand.

"Of course," said Lupin. He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. "Hagrid, thank you for the tea. We'll chat again sometime soon."

They said their good-byes to the giant and Lupin followed Harry out into the crisp late morning. After they'd got a bit farther from the hut, Lupin spoke up.

"Where would you like to go?"

"I thought we could stroll round the lake if it suits you," said Harry.

"Fine," said Lupin. He'd felt this time would come eventually. He wasn't so naïve as to think that the entire conversation was going to go as pleasantly as it had so far. After all, Harry surely had a lot of bitterness and anger, and many unanswered questions. But it would be communication nonetheless, and a start to something more. Openness and honesty usually broke down the barriers, no matter how painful the truth turned out to be.

The late morning sun shone on the top of the massive lake like a web of diamonds, but it was still not enough to warm the autumn chill in the air. The giant squid had disappeared back into the dark depths of the water which was still surrounded by clumps of students here and there, most noticeably a large gaggle of first years playing "Where's the Wizard?", a game Harry noticed was strikingly similar to the Muggle version of "Hide and Seek".

They had to walk for quite a while to find an area not yet populated, and Harry and his father stayed in relative silence until they were finally able to come upon a suitable area with no one else around. Harry slowed to a halt, nervously running his fingers through his hair at the same time as Lupin did; though neither was paying enough attention to notice.

Harry began inarticulately, giving away just how nervous he really was. "Er…I…we haven't really had the chance to talk as of yet…Been quite busy you know, what with Head Boy duties and N.E.W.T.s coming up; not to mention all the goings on with Voldemort." Harry paused, with his hands still crammed around his robes in the pockets of his jeans. He shifted from one foot to the other and finally raised his eyes to squint at his father through the rays of the bright sun. "But there's other more important things I wanted to talk with you about first."

Lupin peered at him. More important? He had thought he'd been keeping quite a close eye on Harry and his companions as of late. How was it that he had missed something?

"Go on."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure you heard about what happened with Malfoy…"

" 'Course I did Harry, I was there," said Lupin, "Every teacher was."

"Not after," finished Harry abruptly. "Something happened in the infirmary; something with Hermione. I…I wondered if you might have any thoughts on it."

Lupin frowned in concern. "Is she all right, then?"

"She's fine now," said Harry, "though when we were all in the infirmary I wasn't so sure."

"Hang on," said Lupin with confusion. "I thought it was Malfoy who'd had the injury…"

"It was…and he would've straight died if it hadn't been for Hermione. That's what I wanted to talk to you about; among other things."

Lupin gestured for him to continue, and Harry related the whole of the story to him, making sure to give him every detail of the healing Hermione had performed. After finishing with it, he went on to tell him of the strange lighting that had gone on in his and Hermione's common room when they, along with Ron had gone back over the 'prophesy' Trelawny had spoken. When he was done, Lupin stood staring at him for some time before speaking.

"Well…Hermione is a special witch then, isn't she?" he began slowly, choosing to take one subject at a time. "That is quite an uncommon gift Harry. I have to say I've never heard of a healer able to heal with just a simple touch. Most, even the best ones have to use their wands."

Harry nodded. "She almost seemed as if she was willing Malfoy to heal. She was in some sort of trance and a purplish light glowed from her hand and travelled all through his body. When he woke up, the only injuries he had left were the broken bones."

Lupin thought hard on this for a moment and then spoke again. "Do you remember what she was saying?"

"A lot of things," said Harry, shifting his weight once again. "She kept telling him to breathe, telling the bleeding to stop, telling it to disappear…"

"Did she ever once mention the broken bones?" asked Lupin.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Breathing seemed to be the foremost thing on the agenda at the time."

Lupin replied drolly, matching Harry's sarcasm. "I'm sure. What I'm getting at is, only the things she thought on healed. Only the ones she was willing so hard to cure, actually cured. You understand?"

"You're saying she actually did will him better?" asked Harry incredulously. "That Hermione has some sort of extraordinary healing power?"

"I'm saying it certainly wasn't some random event, Harry," said Lupin. "Think about it. She willed the bleeding to stop; willed the lungs to heal; willed him to breathe, and all of it happened. Of course she didn't mention the bones because she was thinking so intently on what was most pressing at the time. And they weren't healed, were they?"

He paused to let his words sink in. "I think it's safe to assume Hermione has a very special gift, Harry."

Harry thought for a few moments before speaking. "Maybe you're right."

Lupin spoke up again. "What colour did you say the light was coming from her hand?"

Harry lowered his eyebrows. "Purple. But what does that have to do with…"

"And I'm sure you've seen her perform magic countless times with her wand, haven't you?"

" 'Course I have."

"And you recall the colours that came from it?"

Harry paused and his eyes widened. "Purple. It's always been purple."

Lupin nodded. "As wizards, our magic comes from inside of us and through our wands, not the other way round, Harry. Our wands enable us to perform focused magic. After all, what good is unfocused magic? Not very useful. Most wizards and witches need their wands.

However, every now and then, though very rarely, there are those born with power enough to focus their magic without the need of a wand, as you are proving to be. As for Hermione, you mentioned even Pomfrey with her wand, couldn't heal the damage done to Draco's lungs. I reckon only time will tell whether Hermione is able to use unfocused magic for everything, or just healing. After all, some witches and wizards are just more adept at certain things. This may be the case with her."

Harry was taken aback, and then realised something important. "You know, Ron seems to be growing more powerful as well, at least where defensive spells are concerned."

"I've noticed," replied Lupin thoughtfully. "And his wands colour…"

"Green," said Harry at once. But then the truth of it struck him like a lightning bolt. His voice wavered with shock. "Mine has always been blue except for the first time I got my wand from Mr. Ollivander. Then it shot out red and gold…"

"Perhaps it could simply recognise the heir of Gryffindor, strange as that seems," said Lupin. "If I recall correctly, my wand did the same thing when I first got it, and only that one time. After that it's always been blue."

"Blue, purple and green," said Harry loudly, his heart beating wildly. "Those were the same colours that flew around the common room last night. When they came together they formed gold and then disappeared. Merlin's beard…there was a reason for it. What it was, I'm not sure, but I've a feeling we'll be finding out."

Lupin, full of the same kind of excitement on hearing Harry's words, nodded. "I imagine you will." He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully and swallowed hard, knowing they were to be painful.

"Harry, your mother and I always knew you were special. However, it was only the night…the night your mother and Remus died that I finally realised just how much; and it wasn't just because you'd survived.

That night, Dumbledore told me of the prediction Trelawny had made. He told me that…that either you or he would eventually die. 'For none shall live while the other survives'… Harry, I'd just lost your mother. And while I didn't think in that moment that it was possible to want to die even more, I knew then that I had to give you up. We'd already known that Voldemort would be after you simply because of the Gryffindor-Slytherin bloodlines. But now, there was even more reason for him to want to kill you. The only way to keep you safe was to give up my rights to you…to hide you for as long as possible."

Harry felt himself tensing; felt the familiar resentment and anger building inside. He hadn't been sure until that moment that he'd wanted to bring this particular subject up today, but his father had just taken the matter into his own hands.

"I guess you found that easy enough, didn't you?" The voice that came out was cold, distant, and utterly unfamiliar to Harry's own ears.

Lupin's gaze shot up at once, a look of pure disbelief on his face. "Harry…giving you up nearly killed me. You can't imagine what life has been like without you…without my son…"

"And you can't imagine what my life has been like!" yelled Harry at once. All the anger, all of the bitterness and abuse and misuse of his entire life seemed to be simmering dangerously just below the surface. It had risen up in him so fast that Harry's own reaction almost startled him. He began to pace furiously.

"I reckon it was easier for you to just hand me over…to be able to rid yourself of whatever reminded you of her, was that it!? Or was it the fact that you had a baby to raise on your own now? Was I just more than you wanted to take on at that point!?"

"No Harry! Never! I…"

"Or, maybe you haven't thought on the fact that had it not been for your actions that night, neither she nor Remus Lupin might be dead today? Has it occurred to you, dad," spat out Harry sarcastically, "to wonder how your decision to leave me with the Dursley's for the past sixteen years has gone over? Do you know what MY life has been like without YOU?"

James swallowed, doing his best to take his son's anger toward him in stride. He was wholly entitled to it, and yet, Voldemort had stolen both of their lives that night, not just Harry's. "I know you haven't had it easy with them, Harry. Please believe me when I say that Dumbledore and I thought we were doing what was best for you, and only you, at the time. I didn't know Vernon and Petunia would treat you so badly…"

"And the way they've always felt about magic gave you absolutely no indicator, was that it!?" Harry yelled venomously.

"Harry, Petunia is a squib," said Lupin. He missed seeing Harry's eyebrows disappear into his hairline at the revelation as he continued. "I never knew Vernon that well, but back when I knew Petunia, she seemed to love Lily very much. I knew she always resented her somewhat for her skills, but I never imagined in a million years that coming from the same family, one who owned the same skills, that she would treat you badly, or allow Vernon to do so…"

"AUNT PETUNIA!?" exclaimed Harry. "A SQUIB!?" It would certainly explain quite a bit of the resentment she seemed to hold toward his mother. He'd always thought that if Petunia really thought of magic as 'unnatural and freakish' as both she and Vernon put it, that there would be no reason for the look of utter jealously and bitterness on her face when she mentioned Lily. It probably didn't help his own case much either when Petunia saw how much magic Harry possessed. He could only imagine that Uncle Vernon knew nothing about Petunia's being a squib else he probably would've never married her. She'd probably allowed him to poison her mind even further against magical folk when they had married. It all made sense now. It took him a few moments to process the information before turning his rage back onto his father.

"Well," continued Harry, with the same biting sarcasm in his hard voice, "if you'd been around to check on me, even once, you might've known that my life with them was and is a living HELL. The only reason it's even bearable now is because I've finally gotten big enough to defend myself somewhat."

"Harry…I'm so sorry. I never knew…"

"Of course you never. I spent the first eleven years of my life living in a cupboard under their staircase, did you know that!? I only got to eat whatever was left over from dinner after they and the ORCA they call their 'son', finished cramming themselves full! Sometimes, when it was really bad, mind you, I got nothing but scraps of bread to eat for days on end! But that was all right, because at least when I was finally moved into Dudley's spare room, I got to amuse myself watching him play with his roomful of toys. At least I had my imagination, didn't I!? I could always imagine what it would be like to actually go outside and play rather than cleaning and cooking all day! I could imagine what it might be like to put on clothes that actually fit me rather than Dudley's mucky cast-offs. I could imagine what it might be like to go out and make friends or to even be normal for shitsake…hell, sometimes if the situation was just right, I was able to imagine what it might be like to have someone actually love me. You see, before Hermione, and Ron and the Weasleys, I had no clue. And now that I have, I don't know how I could ever think you felt that for me."

The last sentence, spoken with such a biting hurt tone, cut James to the bone. He swallowed down the massive lump that had risen to his throat at Harry's revelation of his life with the Dursley's. But he had to try to make him understand.

"Harry…you'll never know how much I hate myself for all the bad things that've happened to you. I hate myself for not being there for you. I even used to hate myself for not being able to stop the inevitable. But the truth is, if I hadn't been the one out that night seeking Peter Pettigrew, even I wouldn't be alive, as Dumbledore put it. I couldn't have stopped it anymore than I could stop a storm from coming.

Afterward, having to give you up, I felt I would rather die anyway, but Dumbledore finally helped me realise that someday, I would be able to see you again; that at least, you still had your father. To keep you would've been one of the most selfish things I could've done, Harry…not just for me but for the whole of the wizarding world. I wanted to with all of my heart, but you needed to be kept safe; someplace Voldemort would never think to look for you; someplace where you could at least partly grow up without the stigma of 'the boy who lived'. If you had stayed with me, or even in the wizarding world, it would've been like painting a target on your head. I know I wasn't there for you growing up…"

"No one was," said Harry raggedly.

"But you have to believe that what was done was done to keep you alive. It was the lesser of two evils, Harry. If I'd had a choice, even a small one, I would have never, ever given you up." Lupin swallowed hard again to keep himself under control. To let even one tear fall in Harry's presence was unthinkable. He had no right to it.

Harry's anger seemed to be dissipating with every word from his father, though he held onto it with all of his might. Sometimes, he just wanted to lash out, to be able to hurt someone as much as he had been hurt. He knew he sounded like a bad person, but he was only human. He wanted someone else to understand how isolated and unwanted he'd felt his whole life. He wanted someone else to swallow that type of pain and be able to look up and back at him with new eyes; ones that understood. He didn't realise that at that moment, his father could read all of this in his face.

"I want you to know something," Lupin began again, hoarse with the effort to keep the tears at bay. "I know you never felt love growing up, but gods, I swear to you, there never was a child more loved by his parents than you were by Lily and I. We wanted you, Harry. We tried and tried for you. Lily was so happy when she found out she was pregnant with you. She gave her life for you. I believe she would do it again in a second if given the chance. She knew what she was doing, Harry…and the night I gave you up, so did I."

James Potter stood before him a broken man, a man who's wife had given her life for her son, but in a way, had gotten the easier part of the deal. Because while she had peace, he had to live every day with the pain of it; and with the loneliness and agony that came with having to give up his only son. He'd been just as alone as Harry had been, and being a werewolf, he'd been equally ostracised as well. All this time, Harry had never considered that James might actually feel half of what he did, and yet, it turned out that he understood the whole of it.

Lupin held out his hands to him in an almost pleading gesture. "Please Harry. I know we've already missed too much time together, and I know that a relationship with each other won't come immediately. I know it'll take time. But if it takes until the day I'm on my death bed it'll be worth it to me. I do love you, son. I always have and I always will."

And with that, Harry simply crumbled.

Hermione made her way with Ron through the great double doors and into the bright sunlight of early afternoon. She'd only just been awakened by the sound of Ron's knocking on their portrait door, (which greatly disturbed Sir Cadogen so much so that he challenged Ron yet again to a duel) and when she opened her eyes, she realised that Harry wasn't there beside her. They'd determined that he'd gone to visit Hagrid as the three of them usually did on Sundays, but had been told that he had gone for a walk with his father. It only took them a few minutes to decide to try walking round the lake.

They began rounding a section of hill that wasn't littered with other students until Hermione let out a gasp and grabbed Ron's arm, pointing toward where a pair of men stood with their arms wrapped around each other. They moved back round the hill to avoid being seen, and Hermione wiped her eyes with trembling hands, though smiling as she continued to take peeks at Harry and Lupin. The two finally separated and continued talking, though Lupin kept his hand on Harry's shoulder the entire time.

And even Ron couldn't keep the tears from his eyes at that point.

22. Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

Chapter 22: The All Hallows Eve Bash

Harry knew that word travelled fast around the gossipy halls of Hogwarts, but he had no idea that moments upon re-entering the school after he and his father's talk, he would immediately be assaulted by Hermione and Ron.

Hermione, with tears running down her face, pounded down the hall, and flung herself onto him in a full body hug that nearly knocked him flat. Ron followed her, grinning wildly and hammering him on the back until it tingled with loss of feeling.

"Hrry 's so wunerfl! Yu'n fthr frgiving cn st anw rlaship…" Hermione's face was buried so fully in his shoulder that he could barely make her out.

He chuckled and shifted her weight in his arms with a grunt. "Learning to speak Gobbledygook? You've decided to work at Gringott's post-graduation, then…"

Hermione lifted a tear-stained face to him and gave him a punch in the shoulder before sliding from his grasp. "Don't be a prat. Ron and I went looking for you earlier. We saw you with your father…Harry, it's so wonderful."

"Yeah mate," said Ron, still grinning Cheshire-like. "Proud of you. I know what a great lot of nerve that took."

Harry felt the expression freeze on his face and glanced down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione frowned. "Love, what is it?"

When he spoke again he was quiet, as if not quite sure how to explain himself. "Look, what you saw out there…it was nice, I'll admit. It feels good to know I was… was loved, and I'm beginning to understand why he did what he did…But by no means does one conversation and a hug erase the past sixteen years. D'you understand?"

Ron blinked for a few moments, obviously not sure how to think, but Hermione seemed to comprehend him fully.

"Of course it doesn't," she put a hand to his face and smiled at him. "I don't think for a moment that everything's been instantly put right. Your father doesn't either, I'm sure. But Harry…it's a start. You have to begin somewhere…right?"

Harry was suddenly more than grateful for being given someone like Hermione; whatever deity it was that sent her. He brought up a hand to smooth her hair back from her face. "Right love. Your right."

Ron tried to put his thoughts right and in order. "So then you are a bit better with him…"

Harry winced, unsure himself why he felt uneasy, and nodded. "I'm trying. We both are, I think."

"That's all that can be asked, then," said Ron wisely. "Remember Harry, whatever he did, right or wrong, he did from love for you. It might not've turned out the way either of you wanted, but at least you have that."

Harry turned to follow Ron and Hermione outside into the bright day, but had no words with which to answer. As the three strolled in companionable silence round the grounds, Harry still felt the sting of bitterness tug his heart downward. It was strange; in his mind, he knew he'd heard the truth; knew what all of the right things were now to believe and think. But a lifetime of regret had built a wall against probably any answer he might've heard, he thought to himself, and he was having the damndest time making his heart follow his head.

Yet there was nothing for it but to try. What other choice was there?

*****************************************************

The end of October brought an even cooler drop in temperature and a greyish tint to the sky over the Scottish grounds. All around Hogwarts the middle to end of autumn was evident; from the yellowish tint to the grass, already multicoloured from fallen leaves, to the half-bare trees, losing more and more of their painted coverings every day owing to the wind. The castle too seemed chillier than before. In-between classes, throngs of students were seen with woollen caps and scarves bearing their house colours, and the classrooms themselves now glowed with fires lit in the hearths.

Though the drab outside could have lent the school a gloomy feel, most inside were upbeat and even excited. The All Hallows Eve bash was to be held Friday night, October thirty-first, only two days away, and the halls around the school were already decorated with all sorts of Halloween paraphernalia. Glowing pumpkins were set outside every classroom door, orange and black streamers were hung magically here and there down the halls, and webs with magically enhanced spiders threaded out from corners, (causing Ron to turn three shades of pale). Even the resident ghosts were taking extra care to rattle chains and moan frightfully in every dark corridor.

Hoards of bats came magically from nowhere to swoop down on unsuspecting students, and Peeves followed every attack with a bag of mouldy raisins, tossing handfuls over students heads and screaming 'BAT DROPPINGS!' Only McGonnagol managed to stop him by threatening banishment from the castle, and vowed to find whomever it was supplying the poltergeist and make them eat a handful of the real thing.

Ginny tried her best to contain her excitement, Harry, Ron and Hermione noticed as they headed toward their last class of the day, but she was finding it rather difficult. Malfoy was finally out from the infirmary and had asked her to be his date, so practically all she could think on was what costumes might have a couples theme. She'd decided to confide in Hermione some two weeks ago (neither Lavender or Parvarti were good for anything but dumb giggles as were the girls from her own year) on what had happened with she and Draco when they'd left the infirmary, and as Ginny had guessed, Hermione was full of misgivings and advice.

But while she listened to her and nodded in all of the appropriate places, Ginny knew she was going to make up her own mind. Truth be told, Hermione knew as well, though she hoped at least some of her words would fix into Ginny's self-conscious enough to later pop suddenly into her mind.

She and Ginny hung back as Ron and Harry walked ahead of them toward the Advanced DADA class so that the latter could fill her in on the latest. Though Hermione could be a bit bossy, Ginny was grateful. She needed a female ear.

"So he did ask you, then?" asked Hermione.

"He tried first acting as if it were too childish a thing to attend," replied Ginny with a smirk. "He said rather drolly, and I quote: 'Well Red, you'll be going to the Boo Ball this year, I reckon.' "

"He called it a Boo Ball!?" huffed Hermione in annoyance.

"Oh that's just him making as if he's disinterested Hermione," said Ginny wisely, rolling her eyes. "You know it would take a right miracle for him to openly allow emotion."

Hermione squinched her face at the other girl. "And you find this… appealing…"

Ginny laughed. "It's not real. He's somewhat of a challenge, yes, but I know how to make him stop acting a prick."

"And how's that?" asked Hermione. "Hang on, better…what'd you say to him?"

Ginny cut her eyes at Hermione in a sadistic way. "I told him I'd already been asked by three other wizards, and I wouldn't mind going with one of them if he fancied the 'Boo Ball' beneath him."

Hermione stared at her for a moment and then grinned, which made Ginny finally break out into a peal of laughter. "Cheeky…quite the manipulator, aren't you?"

"And with whom did I grow up?" declared Ginny as if that righted the matter. "Always master manipulators, that Fred and George. Anyhow, it's not how I see it. It's rather more like…helping Draco come out from his shell of denial."

Hermione smiled again and shook her head at the younger girl. "So then he asked you."

"He paused a few moments for effect, probably to see whether I was bluffing. Then he said, and I quote again: 'Well, I'll need to go anyway, I suppose. Just to warrant the party won't be a complete pansy-arse affair. I'll pick you up at seven.' "

"Is that so…" Scoffed Hermione as she and Ginny entered Lupin's classroom and chose seats next to Ron and Harry. "And who are you two going as?"

Ginny blanched and felt her stomach fluttering. "That's the problem!" she whispered back as Lupin turned to address his students. "I don't know! He only asked me yesterday and before that I was thinking of going stag, you know; thought I'd meet someone there. Now I actually have a theme to think of!"

Hermione shook her head and held a hand up towards Ginny. "No worries. I have a book back at our common room that will help. We'll talk more after."

Ginny widened her eyes at Hermione. "A book?" She hissed with a panicky voice. "Hermione it isn't a class, it's a party! How could a book possibly help!?"

Hermione glanced at Ginny patiently and whispered under her breath. " 'The Costumed Couple: A Witch's Guide to Matching her Mate'. Got it from Madame Pince last week. Harry and I've already got ours picked. I'll show you how to transfigure them."

Ginny let out her breath and stared openly at her friend for a few moments. "You never cease to amaze me."

Hermione smiled proudly in return.

**************************************************

Hermione turned to peer at herself in the mirror and gasped as she saw how Ginny had transfigured her own costume into what she had described as 'less bookish Hermione, and more daring Hermione'. The sky blue dress was styled as if it were straight from the rich societies of the seventeen hundreds, full and flowing down to the floor. But the bodice was quite revealing, leaving little to the imagination, and the dress hugged the entire top of her body down to her slim hips like a glove. She wore silver hoop earrings, a small silver chain with a dagger pendant, and matching boots on her feet. Ginny had wanted to make her face up more than it was, but Hermione insisted that a swashbuckler's wench would probably not be heavily made up. She wore only mascara, a hint of blush, and a red tinted lip gloss. Her head of heavy curls was piled loosely on top, with ringlets falling here and there around her face. She did indeed look as if she'd been a wealthy passenger on a ship, just kidnapped by a pirating swashbuckler.

"Oh Ginny…I don't…my original dress was fine. Harry'll fall over when he claps his eyes on this! I think we've gone rather too far."

Ginny had come to Hermione's room to change with her, and Harry and Draco were slumped in the private common room, sitting as far apart as possible, ignoring each other magnificently, and looking for the world like they'd rather be anywhere else in the universe than in the same room alone together, in costumes. Both had already called for the girls to 'get a move on' at least a dozen times or more respectively, but the only response they had gotten was that 'beauty took time'. Time they had, thought Harry daring to glance Malfoy's way, patience was another thing entirely.

Ginny, who had been busy waving her wand over her own get-up, turned to look at Hermione and suddenly gave a squeal of delight. "Oh Hermione! No! It's brill! You look dead sexy. And I rather think once he sees you he'll stand up quite nicely…"

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione in her most scandalised voice.

"Oh don't be such a prude," laughed Ginny, smoothing out her Egyptian queen costume and adjusting her gold head-dress. "Besides, your costume is no more extreme than mine, I think."

Ginny was decked out in a long white toga, but had made sure to let it fall well within bounds of her cleavage, and had transfigured a revealing slit along the side. The costume was complete with golden bands around her upper arms, gold bangles around her wrists, a slim golden belt, and a golden amulet around her neck. The head-dress complimented her thick straight red hair, and a gold chain of different coloured jewels dangled across her forehead. She had thick black eyeliner swept across her upper lids and drawn outward to make her eyes appear more catlike, and had painted her lips a deep red.

Hermione turned to her and placed her hands on her hips. "You've just made my point."

Ginny waltzed over to her, placed her hand on the older girls waist, and turned her toward the mirror so she could fully take in her own form. "Look at you, Hermione. You look smashing! Besides, how often are we able to relax and just be free?

You've heard the phrase 'Carpe Diem', I'm sure."

Hermione frowned at herself and Ginny in the mirror. "And I'm sure they meant 'seize the day', not strangle it."

Ginny smiled patiently, and for once, seemed as if she were the wiser one giving advice. "They were referring to anytime one might step out from oneself for just a little while and run wild."

Hermione swallowed. "Wild?"

"We'll settle for less reserved," said Ginny with a smirk. "Now, we'd better get out there before Draco and Harry start a row. Neither of them seemed too eager to wait with the other."

Harry stood quickly as the creak of hinges behind him sounded. "Finally…" he muttered. Though after seeing Hermione stand shyly before him, and then gaze at him more boldly as she took in his own costume with an open mouth, he forgave her instantly.

Hermione thought she'd never seen Harry look more…well…dangerously sexy.

He wore a dark blue scarf round his head that almost met his eyebrows and knotted round the back. His longish hair curled out from under the bottom of it quite nicely. He'd decided to forego shaving the past couple of days to add to the effect, and she thought there was nothing she'd like better to do right then than to run her hands over those roughened cheeks. He'd charmed a gold hoop earring in his left earlobe, and wore a roughened skull pendant round his neck on a gold chain. His billowy white shirt hung open almost to his navel, showing a nice expanse of olive skin, a chiselled chest, and a line of fine black hair, (her favourite line of fine black hair). The dark blue pants, tucked into black boots, were held on by a dark red scarf tied round his middle. Godric Gryffindor's sword hung from his sash, magically lightened, and held in a roughened leather looking sheath.

When he smiled at her though, Hermione thought to herself that she was sure no mangy pirate of the old seas had ever had such straight white teeth with such a dangerously crooked grin.

"Wow 'Mione…you're, I mean you…loo…look like…just…WOW."

Hermione was sure she blushed five deep shades of crimson, as much for the inarticulate compliment as for the scandalous thoughts running through her mind.

She swallowed and shook her head, choosing not to reply. "We'd…better get there then, before we miss the whole thing."

Harry grabbed her round the waist and spun her to him, grinning madly and lowering his voice an octave. "I wouldn't mind."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed through gritted teeth as she motioned toward Ginny and Malfoy.

But neither of them had noticed. Ginny was too busy by-passing the besotted, lustful looks Draco was giving her, and taking in his costume. Neffertiti had met her Caesar.

Malfoy had chosen to forego the toga theme, and had instead donned the tight brown leather of a king just out from battle. He too had foregone shaving and had a nice smattering of rough blonde on his jaw. He'd charmed his hair short and spiky, which added to the rugged warrior theme. The studded leather vest was sleeveless, showing pale skin and Quidditch toned arms, with leather bicep-bands. The pants (good Godric) were equally as leather, and equally as tight, with brown worn boots on his feet and a sword at his side. Six golden studs ran up both of his ears, and a leather band was tied round his forehead. A more modern approach to Egyptian warrior clothing? Ginny looked down at the tight leather pants and couldn't bring herself to mind.

Hermione smiled at Harry as she saw the two gazing at each other and motioned him to follow her out from the common room. He looked uncomfortable at seeing Malfoy ogling Ginny, who was like his sister, but was given no choice but to follow Hermione out the portrait door.

"When he sees the two of them together like that, Ron'll go completely apeshit," said Harry with dread as he and Hermione walked down a hall transfigured to appear as a dark menacing forest covered in mist.

Despite knowing it was only a hoax, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm even tighter when an unknown animal growled through the night at her. "And he'll just have to deal with it, won't he?" Her voice was shaky with nerves.

A pair of gleaming red eyes suddenly appeared in front of them and Hermione screamed, almost jumping bodily into Harry's arms. But Harry waited it out, and then chuckled and set her back down again as the red faded from their view.

"A bit inconsiderate of them to use that particular scam, wasn't it?"

Hermione shuddered and didn't let go of Harry's arm. "Had to make them glowing red, didn't they? Like…like his."

"I'm sure it was Filch or one of the others," he replied. "Dumbledore would've known better. But not many've actually seen Voldemort, you know?"

Hermione stopped abruptly and looked up at him. "Harry…just for tonight, let's not mention his name. Let's pretend for just one night that all there is this party, and school and friends…and us."

Harry gazed at her for a moment and then smiled understandingly. "Ok, love. For tonight, the world is normal."

Draco and Ginny joined them some minutes later, though both could tell they'd done a bit of snogging first, and the four made it more or less together to the Great Hall, separating quickly once they'd opened the doors and stepped inside. The sight that greeted them was a surprising one, indeed.

The whole of the hall had been transfigured to look as if they had stepped into a giant dark forest with a large hollowed clearing, complete with tall twisted trees, thick underbrush, eerie white mist, and filtered moonlight, just as the hallway had been. The ceiling, always charmed to reflect the outside, showed a black sky, very few stars owing to the overcast of smoke grey clouds, and a pale waning moon, fuzzy round the edges.

There was already a roar of voices, laughter and music, and the huge 'clearing' in the midst of the forest held hundreds of costumed students, milling about, heading toward the overloaded snack tables, or moving toward one of the numbers of games that had been set up about the edge of the circle. A stage had been placed toward one edge as well, and Harry noticed that the surprise act for the evening was none other than Werewolf Wilmur. He was currently on the second verse of "I Wanna Fang You for Loving Me", his smash hit on the WWN right after "Howlo, my love".

Ron caught site of Harry and Hermione and grabbed Lavender's hand, beaming and weaving in-between the crowd to get to them. Harry stifled a laugh as he approached.

"There you are! Thought you'd decided to stay in and snog for the evening." He yelled over the din of noise.

Hermione noticed Lavender seemed a bit nervous and kept glancing around them to see if anyone was looking their way, but after spotting Ron, it was easy to guess why. He was dressed in very wide legged pants, cuffed to his ankles at the bottom and black slippers, curled at the toes. His silky vest was black as well and open to show a nice expanse of pale, freckled chest, and a black silk turban was wrapped around his head. Lavender wore an open pale purple vest with a modest pale purple bra underneath, the same colour bloomers covered in blooming gauzy pants, and the same type shoes. Her blonde hair was covered with a series of veils, with a transparent one covering her nose and mouth and a band of gold coins were strung across her forehead.

Ron grinned at them again. "So I suppose you two are pirate and wench then?"

"Swashbuckler," corrected Harry, his mouth contorted as he tried to stifle a laugh. Ron looked a bit, well…feminine in his costume. He was sure he didn't know. "And Hermione does make a fetching wench, doesn't she?"

He paused as Hermione shot him a mock-offended look and winked cheekily at her before returning his attention to Ron. "So…what exactly are you supposed to be?"

Suddenly Lavender dropped Ron's hand with a huff and turned poutily to him. "You see Ron! I told you we'd be asked that question all night!"

Ron widened his eyes at her as if she were being unreasonable. "No worries Lav!" He turned back to his friends with a smirk and addressed Harry. "It's obvious who we are dipshit. I'm a sheikh, and Lav here is my belly-dancing slave."

"I'm not a slave," Lavender retorted quickly.

"Ah," nodded Harry, grinning.

"Echoes of your name I hear, howling in the wind, just howling in the wind, OWOOOO! And I just wanna fang you for loooovin' me…"

The song rose in pitch, obviously a favourite part for Wilmur. Harry, Hermione and Lavender winced simultaneously.

"This is my favourite of his," said Ron as he turned from looking at the stage to beam at them once again. " 'Howlo my love' has more or less travelled to the bottom of my list thanks to Seamus."

"Can't imagine why," said Hermione drolly.

"Right," said Ron. "Well, time to get loose! See you two on the dance floor!"

He stuck out his tongue and made a dance move reminiscent of a wounded hippogriff stumbling toward its final resting place. Harry dissolved into snorts of laughter.

Lavender rolled her eyes at Ron but grinned and yanked him out onto the dance floor anyway.

Harry led Hermione to the dance floor and pulled her close, despite the song having a medium beat. "Well, maybe Dumbledore'll decide to switch on the WWN soon. Don't think I can lump Wilmur all night long."

"Let's hope," said Hermione with a crooked smile.

They'd finally gotten their wish, and had been on the dance floor for around an hour before Professor McGonnagol, dressed as Fredweina the Fierce in a long black dress of rags, a painted-on scowl, and carrying several fake daggers on a belt around her waist, came up on stage and announced that it was time for the contest, judged by the professors, on whose costume was the most inventive. Most hadn't even known there was to be a contest. There were well over three hundred students present as fifth year and up were invited to the bash, so when it came time for willing students to come up on stage to be seen by all, it was no wonder that a few costumes had slipped the attention of Professor Sinistra, who was to make certain that no one entered the Great Hall in costumes that were deemed 'inappropriate'.

Crabbe and Goyle, whose costumes almost rendered McGonnagol completely catatonic, were immediately ordered to get out and change into something suitably decent, or else. Coming to the bash as a couple of sumo wrestlers had truly been the wrong idea.

Ron mentioned to Harry as the two idiots ran out guffawing to one another, that if he was ever, EVER able to get the sight of their fat naked arsecheeks out of his mind it would be a bloody miracle. Harry was immensely thankful none of their bits and pieces had fallen out in the process. The comment won him a punch and scowl from Hermione.

Seamus Finnegan, Gryffindor's resident skirt-chaser, was swiftly frowned upon as he charged on stage as a 'lamp', with a round shade and a pull string over his head, and asked if there were any witches available to turn him on. One from the audience had just time enough to announce she'd rather 'pull the plug' before McGonnagol herself angrily chased him from the hall. There was an eruption of laughter with that one.

Neville Longbottom looked positively miserable in his giant carrot costume, followed onstage by a smiling Susan Bones, in a pair of long bunny ears, a modest white one piece swimsuit, a fluffy tail, and charmed oversized front teeth. They received a few votes. Harry was sure that particular embarrassment had been Susan's idea.

Dean Thomas won quite a few votes as he toddled onstage in a giant white box, labelled 'Toasty O's' with fake blood smears, knives, and guns attached and announced that he was a 'Cereal Killer'. Dumbledore, dressed as Merlin, found that one quite amusing and clapped the hardest among the audience.

Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were promptly removed after showing up as a pimp and his hooker, and Millicent Bullstrode received quite a few boos and retching noises when she sauntered onstage as a French maid in a tiny lacy black dress, a white apron, fishnet stockings and high-heeled mary janes. Ron decided right then and there to poke out his mind's eye.

To top these off, a particularly randy Ravenclaw boy walked onstage with a cigarette in his mouth, messy hair, and condom wrappers stuck to his terry cloth robe, and announced that he was 'The Morning After', and would anyone care to experience the night before? Following these, McGonnagol somehow found a way to pale even more than she'd already done.

Cho Chang received a few votes as Little Dead Riding Hood. A sixth year Gryffindor was chased from the hall after showing up in a hospital gown, gloves, stethoscope, magnifying glass round his head, chocolate pudding smeared down his gown, a 'Dr. Ben Dover' nametag, and the announcement that he was a 'proctologist'. When he began licking pudding from his gloves, a faint Hermione quickly found a seat.

The night saw a Formal Apology, complete with bowtie, a Split Personality, Lightning Victim, Green Olive and Pimento, White Trash, and even a Sand Witch. But the grand winners were two Hufflepuffs, one dressed as a gigantic salt shaker, and the other as a giant Duracell, stating that they were 'Assault and Battery'. Even Snape smiled with that one, and the award was given.

Harry felt eternally grateful once the Weird Sisters began to blare from enhanced speakers, and he and Hermione alternated between dancing near Ron and Lavender, (in which Harry and Ron tried to constantly outdo the other with really awful dance moves), and wandering round the edges of the floor in search of a game or two.

The Levitating Sherbet Ball Bob was near the same as the Muggle version of bobbing for apples, Hermione explained to Harry, who had never had the pleasure of either. They watched Casper Eustance, a Ravenclaw from the Advanced DADA class compete with a housemate on who could bob the fastest, though it was an unfair contest. Castor's Dracula teeth made it much too easy for him.

There was a table of potions (Snape had obviously done), in which the 'victim' was dared to drink a potion, and hope the results weren't permanent.

In one corner, a cluster of students were playing Pin the Wart on the Witch, Seamus, Dean and Neville were currently trying to best each other at Pumpkin Bowling, and a pumpkin pasty eating contest had already made one contestant vomit all over his Unemployed Clown costume. The sign round his neck, reading "Happy the Clown needs work…owl me. Will work for food" was currently covered in chunks.

There was a mock wizard duel going on at the other end of the hall, but Hermione chose to Fish the Witches Brew, where the contestant could reach their hand inside a cauldron and hope they fished out a candy from Honeydukes rather than Zonko's Joke Shop. But after the accidental ingestion of a few exploding bon-bons, she kept the sugar quills and gave the rest to a fifth year near them.

Harry decided later he wanted to do something a little less juvenile and convinced Hermione, Ron and Lavender to tromp round the Maze of Dread that had been conjured up outside near the Quidditch pitch. It took a lot of begging, but he and Ron were finally able to convince the girls to do it.

The four grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the briskly cool evening, though Harry could tell Hermione was shivering from much more than the cold. He wrapped an arm round her shoulders and gave her a squeeze as they crunched their way through dried leaves toward the pitch.

"Not scared are you, love? We're not even there yet."

Hermione shot him a look. "I'm not especially keen on mazes of dread, Harry."

"Neither am I," said Lavender with a shudder as she walked ahead of them with Ron.

"It's not a real one," said Ron in exasperation. "Besides, I want to see the kind of job Hagrid did on it. He was the one who set it up, you know."

"Hagrid!?" squealed Lavender, grabbing onto Ron's arm. "Swell! Can't wait to see what type of horrors he's put in there. Spiders on steroids, pools of grindylows, manticores, blast-ended skrewts…"

"He wouldn't put anything real in there," said Harry with a snort.

Hermione glanced warily at him and slowed a bit. "Harry, you know I love him but…well,…it is Hagrid we're talking about. He can be a bit…over-enthusiastic."

"Bugger!" exclaimed Ron, throwing up his hands and turning to walk backward for a moment as he addressed her. " 'Mione, could you just try being spontaneous, for once!? It'll be fine! Living on the edge can be fun every now and then, right Harry?"

"Er…" Harry scratched nervously behind his ear as he watched Hermione's eyes flash dangerously at Ron. It was a look he'd seen before.

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. "Fun, is it? Well Ron, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I've experienced 'the edge', as you put it, right along with you and Harry every bloody year we've been in Hogwarts! In fact, I believe I've been there, done that and brought back souvenirs!"

"Oh, do we have to mention any of that?" said Lavender feebly as she eyed the tall closely grown bushes they approached.

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's not what I mean 'Mione and you know it…"

They'd reached the opening of the large maze, which had been thankfully built as to least likely resemble the one from the Tri-Wizard Tournament in their fourth year, and Harry decided he'd better nip the conversation in the bud before it turned into a full blown row.

He held up his hands and put on his most disarming grin; the one that had charmed his way through many a situation. "All right, that's enough. Ron, you two are worse together than you and Ginny." Ron huffed in irritation and Harry turned to Hermione. "We don't have to go in, love. I just thought it would be fun…but I understand if you're too frightened of what might be in there…"

Hermione scowled instantly. "Frightened!? Who's Frightened!?" She turned to stare accusatorily at both Harry and Ron. "Do you know what I…haven't I been with…I've seen just as much as…aarrgghh!"

She growled in exasperation and blazed past Harry, Ron and an open-mouthed Lavender to stomp through the opening and down the dark trail. They heard distinct mumblings of "…the nerve…just as much as they've done…wouldn't have made it half as far without me…"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and made to follow her, but not before grinning covertly at Ron and giving him a cocky wink.

Ron sniggered and punched him in the arm. "Always could get to her…cheeky bastard."

Harry chuckled and made his way down the darkened maze where he knew Hermione would be waiting for him not too far down the way. Ron and Lavender followed a few minutes later.

**************************************

After many heart-stopping run-ins with creatures such as a fully grown Chimaera, (a monster with a lion's head, goat's body and dragon's tail), a Demiguise, which kept turning invisible and brushing against a terrified Hermione, a herd of particularly nasty Fire Crabs (tortoise-like creatures that shot flames from their arses), swarming Glumbumbles, annoying Imps that kept trying to pull at Lavender's scarves, and a bunch of Nifflers, which Ron begged to follow as he was sure they'd lead him to treasure, the four finally made their ways out from the maze. Ron was sure by that time Lavender had coined the phrase "NEVER AGAIN".

They'd heard others decide to try the maze after them, and saw once they'd come out that a large number of students had made their ways out to the grounds. Curfew for this night was to be ten o'clock, but several professors had followed the queue of students outside to watch over them owing to the events of recent months. No one seemed to be complaining.

The four decided to split up at that point, especially since Ron had just caught site of Ginny and Draco headed in the opposite direction of the maze and was sure they were headed somewhere to snog. As he stormed off, Hermione pleaded with Lavender to try and pound some reason into him, and she hurried off after him.

When they'd gone, Hermione smiled wickedly at Harry and grabbed his hand, leading him round the lake until they'd reached a secluded area. She pulled him close and smiled impishly up at him as he winked at her.

"I know what you did…"

Harry feigned shock. "Me?"

"Of course you, you nit. You made me tromp through that horrible maze."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "I never made you. Can I help it you can't back from a challenge? Besides…" he grinned wickedly, "I thought we might do a bit of snogging in there. Never can be sure how long it'll be getting through one of those."

"Only it was too terrifying for that, wasn't it!?" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry wisely decided to take a different tack. "You really do look smashing tonight," he said, grabbing her tightly again round the waist.

Hermione gave him a suspicious look. "Are you trying to charm me with your pirate mojo? It won't work, you know. I'll never fall for it. You've kidnapped me and taken me from my family and riches, you great dirty mercenary."

Harry grinned and then stepped back from her, affecting an angry air. "For the last time, I'm a swashbuckler, wench! And you'll do as I say or I'll have no choice but to punish you!"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest dramatically and raised her chin. "Do your worst. I'll never give in."

"Oh won't you…" said Harry stepping closer.

"Never."

"Not a bit…"

"Not even an…in..inch…" stuttered Hermione as Harry stood inches from her face and placed his hands on his hips. He stared at her for a few moments, fixing her with a crystal green gaze until a dangerous smirk crept onto his face. Hermione felt her knees giving.

"Brave girl…" he whispered as his eyes bored into hers. "Ready to be punished?" He watched a shiver make its way slowly down her body and fought the staggering impulse to grab her and take her to the ground.

Her heart began pounding out a rapid rhythm of desire, and a thrill shot from the middle of her chest straight downward. Calm, sure, confident Hermione Granger felt herself beginning to tremble under his clear gaze. Damnhimdamnhimdamnhim… But she was determined not to let him have the victory so easily this night…

She widened her eyes seductively and leaned even closer to him, making sure to brush against him in just the right way. "Depends on what you had in mind."

And Harry's mouth went dry.

"Wh…well I…"

"I'm young," said Hermione, now revelling in the gobsmacked look on Harry's face. "I'm sure I can withstand a lot. You'll find I have high tolerance for torture…"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione!"

She moved to press against him, and Harry balled his hands into tight fists, willing himself to keep control, just keep control…

"I won't give in…" breathed Hermione on tiptoes, lips close enough to brush lightly against the hollow of his throat. She felt a hard swallow travel its way down his neck and smiled against it. Who's in control now… "You'll have to keep finding new ways to discipline me…better start thinking…" She placed a finger on the hollow she'd just kissed and let it run down the open length of his shirt, down the soft black trail of hair that stopped at his navel…

The scent and sight of her shut out everything else in the world, and Harry finally reached his breaking point. He brought his hands up to fist in her hair and pulled her head back to look at her. The look of hungry desire on his face almost shocked her. He'd never looked quite so…carnivorous before. Without any more words he tilted his head and brought his lips down to hers. He began tasting her…slowly, but with such an intensity that it felt like she'd just been set on fire. She felt her knees buckle. His must have gone from under him as well, because he grabbed her and brought her to the ground with him, not caring about either of their costumes, and certainly not thinking of the fact that they might get caught. Curfew went out the window as well.

Hermione laced her fingers around the back of his neck and felt the soft fine hairs beneath the waves on his nape. She couldn't help it. She'd always loved his hair, so soft and dark and with the constant messy look, as if he'd just gotten off a wild ride on his broom. She knew he wished he could tame it, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Truth be told, she found it sexy as hell.

Harry ran his hands down her bare arms, down her barely exposed thigh, and back up toward her waist again. It seemed he couldn't get enough of touching her, tasting her, smelling her…hell, all five senses were buzzing with an electric current…one name fluttered in his head like a hundred snitches and pounded in his heart like a bludger. HermioneHermioneHermione… Her hair had come down, and Harry grabbed a handful of it, bringing it to his face as she kissed his neck, her fingernails down his back making him shiver. Long, soft, golden chestnut curls, berry scented shampoo (damn her)… soft olive skin, flawless… gorgeous bay eyes, doe eyes… a sloped feminine nose, turned up a bit on the tip (he kissed it), full pink lips, a hint of that brown colouring along the edges…gods, she was perfection, and better, she was Hermione. Hermione Granger… HIS Hermione… Hermione Potter… Hermione Anne Potter…

"Hermione Potter," whispered Hermione in Harry's ear. He leaned up to gaze at her. Had he said it out loud?

He started to say something, but the words left him, and he merely leaned up on an elbow, placed a hand under her head like a pillow and grinned down at her.

She smiled up at him and pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. His headscarf had come off during the rolling and grabbing, and one piece stood straight up towards the back. She forced herself not to grab him and snog him lifeless again.

"Did I…out loud?" began Harry quietly.

"No," she said with a broad smile. "Not out loud. But I know you were thinking the same thing. It has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?"

Harry sighed; a happy, idiotic crazy-in-love sigh only Hermione was allowed to hear. "The best."

"Someday…" she smiled up at him.

He leaned down to place another kiss on the tip of her nose and saw she was nearly spilling out from the top of her dress. "Not soon enough for me," he said randily.

Hermione followed his gaze down and flushed a deep crimson. "Harry James Potter!" She sat up shoving him off of her and pulled up on the bodice of her dress. "You sodding perve! How dare you…"

Harry laughed and rolled over to stand and offer her a hand-up. "I never saw anything."

"…And me without a single peek at you," she finished with a mischievous raise of her eyebrow.

She laughed out loud and began running as fast as she could toward the castle, with Harry in hot pursuit behind her. It had been a good day. It had been an even better night.

23. Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

As November came and neared its end, bringing a wintry chill to the air and the first hint of snow lightly frosting the ground, Harry was surprised at how calmly his days had been passing. There hadn't been a single threat from Voldemort in almost two months now, and owing to the fact that the Dementors had defected and the dark lord now had around fifteen Death Eaters with him, the lack of bad news was confounding to say the least.

Hermione had both Harry and Ron working harder than ever on their N.E.W.T.s, and since she was the organisational sort, she'd stayed up late one night devising a strict study schedule for them to go by. She'd even made up flash cards for each of their classes, and spent many an hour going meticulously through each one until she was sure the material had been memorised through and through. Ron called these the 'groaning hours', and Harry usually spent the better part of the first one keeping the two of them from another row, though he rather felt like Ron.

The one thing he missed since becoming the busiest he'd ever been, was the few times he was able to grab his broom (the fact that it was a Flametorch was a plus) head outside, and take to the skies before anyone could catch him. He craved these minutes of alone time, where he was able to gather his thoughts and find fresh perspective on the amazing amount of pressures and worries constantly pounding in his head. It seemed the higher he flew, the more in sync with his own body he became, and he was able to sort out those things he couldn't when surrounded by the circumstance. His father was one issue he was sure he'd never quite know how to deal with. He wanted to be able to connect with him; to be able to have the kind of father/son relationship he'd always so desperately needed. But on the deepest level, he knew the kind of relationship he'd craved all of his life was just simply not going to be. It had been too long; the chasm between them had grown much too wide and deep.

What he had craved was unconditional love; the full trust and knowledge that one's parent always knew best, and that they were always right; always the ones to turn to in times of need or trouble. But those were things learned early on, things not taught, just simply known and accepted in the normal growth of a parent/child relationship; one that had deepened with experience and years; one with plenty of time to nourish it; one that hadn't been broken. He hoped that he and his father would ultimately learn to trust and love each other, but he was a man now, and had grown up alone. He knew who he was and what he believed through himself, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and the Weasleys. And where did that leave James? He wasn't sure. There would always be a rift there; a day when some remark would leave Harry wondering who James thought he was to give him advice. Some time when he might come to resent James wanting to be fatherly to him, and even the simple knowledge, as he thought on now, that his own father really didn't even know who he was. It was these thoughts that made Harry know that no matter how long he and his father worked on their relationship, some things were constant.

Whoever it was that said "time heals all wounds" had left the phrase a little unfinished. Time did heal all wounds, but a scar always remained.

Despite the chaos of N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, homework, Head Boy duties, and extra classes, Harry still found time to spend each night with Hermione. When all duties were done, they were able to retreat into their little corner of the castle, slam the portrait door on the rest of the world, and just breathe in each other. For Harry, it was his one saving grace, and he could honestly say he would rather be with her than breezing through the clouds. While being on his broom high above every circumstance gave him a chance to think clearly, the sky couldn't talk back, could it? Hermione helped him sort it all out, organise it, put it into perspective, and stack it up neatly for later pondering. After all, she knew him as well as he knew himself.

And when all the talk was done, it was wonderful to be with someone with whom you were comfortable even in silence. A home to come to, finally. To just simply put his arms round her and hold her close, slumped on the soft couch, in a dark room lit only by dim orange flames…to him, this was a glimpse of heaven.

Peace…such an underrated thing.

He'd had more talks with his father; each one a little less surface and a little more at ease. They were slipping into a rhythm of being, a nod and smile here, a conversation there, invitations to meet with one another for a butterbeer and catch up, no pushing to open up; one could open up if they wished. James had filled Harry in on a lot of the missed events of his own life, which consisted most of hiding out under assumed names and taking odd jobs. He'd helped Harry to see his mother through his fathers eyes; helped him to know the kind of witch she was. Though, he told Harry, the easiest way to know his mother was to know Hermione, as their personalities were so much alike.

The Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were going better than even Lupin had expected. Each student continued to improve daily, and as was habit for him, Lupin paid special attention in his own mind, on how his son and his two friends were coming along. Ron had become so adept at defensive spells that when it became time to break into pairs to practice, no one seemed to want to pair with him voluntarily. Harry was wonderful at defence himself, but his strongest suit seemed to be attack. He had become so proficient at it, that he was hardly put on defence himself at all, including his classes with the sword. He was now able to perform wandless magic almost exclusively, even at times he seemed not to be concentrating especially hard on it.

And Hermione; her skills seemed to be the most unusual of them all, due to the fact that they had been so unexpected. She'd been working with Pomfrey on almost every case that came into the infirmary since the incident with Malfoy, and she was now able to perform healing magic on almost every ailment, though still using her wand, with either a dramatic improvement or complete recovery. She'd wowed Poppy even more at times when she seemed especially emotional about a particular injury, as it seemed then her wand was hardly needed. Pomfrey assured her that even the most expert of healers required the use of their wands at all times. She was so awed by the power for healing Hermione seemed to possess that she'd already sent in a recommendation that she be tested at graduation level at University of Sorcery, subject: "The Healing Arts". If she passed, Hermione would be assured a job at St. Mungo's as soon as she left Hogwarts.

However, as Harry had only half sarcastically put it to Hermione and Ron one night, since Voldemort had decided to pause on rearing his ugly head for a while, something else had to happen to take his place, didn't it? What would the life of the 'terrific trio' be without drama? He was right as he would soon find out.

Ron and he still attended their classes on Divination with Trelawny without fail, and were bent on paying attention to her for once, since the prophecy she had made several months prior seemed to be unfolding before their eyes. So it was, this particular Thursday afternoon, the twentieth of November, that Harry and Ron, and later Hermione as well, received another disturbance to add to their already toppling pile.

The class went by as usual, with a curiously nervous Trelawny looking more owlish that ever behind her enormous magnifying spectacles. As ever, the classroom was overly perfumed and warm, even though the temperature outside had dropped considerably, and the red scarves she kept over the few lamps lent it a sickly pastel colour. Round tables, set here and there were surrounded by students, the majority of whom were trying their best to stay awake. Every now and then as she spoke, Trelawny would walk between the tables and rap students with heavy eyes and nodding chins on the top of the head with her wand. She seemed oddly rigid and tense, but kept her voice as steady as possible as she droned on about the art of psychometry, in which a wizard or witch talented in feeling the "emanation" certain objects gave off, or more commonly known as "scrying", could get senses or emotions on the history and use of the object.

"For instance," continued Trelawny, turning her head very quickly to glance at Potter and sighing tremulously(it was so quick that few noticed save he and Ron), "some of the gifted are able to hold certain medicines in their hands, and feel the symptoms of the last wizard to have used it. Yet again, some are able to get a sense of the 'history' if you will, of an object; any one, be it an old wand, a cloak, a key, or even a bottle. All objects give off an emanation, an aura…"

"Wonder if she can tell how this was last used," whispered Ron indifferently, flipping a bird under his desk.

Harry swiped a hand down his face and slumped even further in his seat, doing his very best to pay attention. So far the class had been the usual rot. It was only when Trelawny seemed to go mental that she ever spoke anything of consequence anyway. Though these days he wasn't sure he'd know the difference when it came.

Parvarti, whom Lavender insisted on sitting with since she knew how Ron felt about the class, suddenly spoke up. "Oh professor, I feel sometimes I have that gift. I'm sure of it!"

Half of the class groaned, but a murderous look from Trelawny shut the whole of them up.

"Go on, Ms. Patil."

"I've a bracelet a certain someone bought for me not too long ago," sniffed Parvarti quite proudly, as if she were the only girl to ever receive gifts from a boy. "Every time I wear it, which is often, I get the most peculiar feeling…as if, oh I dunno…as if the last owner was unethical…a leery sort."

Trelawny smiled proudly at her. "Well done, Ms. Patil. You may very well have a bit of the psychometrist in you. Are there other objects you seem to feel…"

"Hang on," called out Dean Thomas, sitting next to a suddenly pale Seamus Finnegan, "Let's see that bracelet…"

Parvarti whipped round to stare suspiciously at him. "What for?"

" Mr. Thomas, we've a lesson to finish," said Trelawny, annoyed.

Dean grinned. "Just hold it up a sec."

Parvarti looked at Dean as if he was a huge nuisance but shook her dark hair, rolled her eyes and held up her wrist haughtily for all to see anyway.

Seamus looked as if he were trying to disappear under the table, but a sniggering Dean suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him up, poking him hard in the ribs with his elbow.

"Finnegan! You dirty dog!"

"OW! Bloody hell, you sodding…"

"…That isn't the bracelet you gave to Mirabel Adkins last week!?"

Parvarti's jaw dropped and Seamus began to stutter. "W..well I…that is…"

Dean snorted heartily. "…and Bertrand Porter the week before, and Adelaide Thompson two weeks before that…HA HA!"

Dean slammed his head onto his desk howling, Ron began to perk up significantly, Parvarti began colouring and Seamus kept paling.

"No, you see…it's not how you think…" said Seamus desperately, watching Parvarti grow more and more furious.

"How dare you…" she hissed yanking the bracelet off and throwing it onto the floor. "Bertrand Porter!? And Thompson… that thick blonde Hufflepuff!?"

Lavender reached over to console her, patting her on the back and giving Finnegan a scathing look.

Dean raised his head from the table and swiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks, barely controlling his voice. "Y'might be a true psychometrist! Unethical and leery…that bracelet's gotten Seamus more arse this year than ever before…"

"DEAN THOMAS!" shouted Trelawny furiously.

"Have you gone barking mad!?" wheezed Seamus, gripping at Dean's robes.

Ron howled, slamming his fist onto the table and Harry laughed out loud. As the entire class followed, bursting into laughter, Harry thought this was the best class they'd had yet. Parvarti looked ready to commit murder.

Before Trelawny could speak another word, the bizarre clock on the wall suddenly switched Mars' path with Jupiter and announced in a rather trance-like voice that class was over.

Students began to scramble up and Trelawny placed a hand on either side of her head as if literally holding it together.

"Fourteen inches on Psychometry, the art and its uses by tomorrow!" she called out almost wearily as students began to leave.

The class seemed to sag as a whole at that, but roared with laughter once again as Seamus frantically blazed a path through them screaming "ONE SIDE! OUT OF MY WAY!" with a violent Parvarti hot on his trail, her wand out and ready to hex.

Before Harry and Ron could make their escape however, Trelawny called them back. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll need to speak with you."

Harry sighed and turned back round with Ron to re-enter the class.

"D'you suppose she saw me flip her?" whispered Ron anxiously.

"Doubt it," said Harry.

They approached Trelawny's desk where she slumped wearily wrapping her shawl round her shoulders and dropped their books onto a nearby table.

Trelawny glanced up at them impatiently. "Well, c'mon then. Pull up chairs, this might take a bit."

"Professor we have Advanced DADA," said Harry as they sat. "We'll be late…"

"I've cleared it with Professor Lupin for you two to be absent today. And as what I have to say may very well involve Ms. Granger as well I'll trust you two to fill her in once we're through."

Harry sat up quickly. "What about Hermione…"

"Not her directly, or either of you two for that matter," said Trelawny. Once again she affected her usual otherworldly voice.

"Last night, while I slumbered…I had a dream…rather a vision as we with the inner eye are sometimes wont to do," she sighed dramatically as if it were such a burden to be so gifted. Ron rolled his eyes as she continued. "I carried it to Dumbledore this morning, and he felt same as I, that it somehow might involve the three of you, quite possibly as my last prophesy did," she emphasised sternly.

Ron's jaw dropped and he sat up shocked, looking from Trelawny to Harry. "But how…mate you didn't tell…"

"Oh yes, I know about that one," said Trelawny quite importantly.

"But you seemed catatonic…quite unaware you'd said anything," said Harry, just as surprised as Ron seemed to be.

"My star students keep me well informed," said Trelawny smiling righteously.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Parvarti and Lavender, then."

Trelawny nodded, eyeing them sternly as she did. "They told me of the prophecy I made. I would've never known if they hadn't. And it well benefits you they did, as it made me aware this vision may be somehow linked."

"Linked…" said Harry.

Trelawny sat up. "As in again pertaining to you and yours, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed a bit sceptically but thought to himself that it might well serve them to hear it anyhow. "All right, we’re listening."

Trelawny tensed theatrically, as if she were mentally preparing herself for recalling something extremely momentous and then spoke. "Well, 'vision' might be an inappropriate word for what I had, I suppose. I did see things, but they were only shapes; a triangle, a circle; though the circle was quartered, each part having been separated from the others, but clearly belonging to the whole. The rest was more a prophecy, of sorts, but one that I saw written in my head, as if the words were etched behind my eyelids. I could read them very clearly."

Harry and Ron nodded for her to continue, however still quite dubiously.

"It was quite foreboding," said Trelawny dreamily. "The words felt extremely urgent. I'll recall it as best I can, though I doubt I've forgotten any of it as I don't often receive 'messages' of this nature. Let me see…

'The strongest link shall lead the fight, from dawn of day to dark of night.

The second link, his closest friend, from start to finish shall defend.

The third link; the stablest one, shall heal until the fight is done.

Should the equal fail the fight, darkness shall fall and veil the light;

lest one whose worth is not yet known, should yield his life for his own.

Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one.

For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain.

All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand.' "

When she was done, Harry and Ron, both with gazes that revealed they weren't sure of anything anymore sat facing the Divination teacher with nothing to say. And for the first time they could remember, Trelawny dropped all signs of pretence.

She stared at the two for a time before speaking in the most sincere voice they'd ever heard her use.

"I know what you two think of my class. I know you think I'm a right old fraud…"

Harry swallowed. "Well…you see it's not…"

"At times, I've wondered it myself to be quite frank," she continued bluntly.

Ron glanced at Harry as if he needed reassurance he'd really just heard what he had. The look on Harry's face gave him no doubts.

"However, if I've ever been sure of anything in my whole life and career, I'm sure of this one thing…It was real what I experienced last night. Call it a dream or a vision, whatever you must… but dark times are ahead, darker than ever before…I feel it in my bones." She gave the two boys her most piercing gaze, but they would've felt the rightness of her words even without it. She continued gravely.

"For some reason, you three are directly involved. Mr. Potter, we've known of you ever since the night You-Know-Who gave you that scar, but as for Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, I think it safe to say that none of you met by chance."

Once again the two sat still, staring numbly at her until Harry finally spoke up quietly. "I think we agree on something, for once."

A few minutes later and Trelawny was left by herself in her warm pastel classroom, the only sounds coming from the pinkish flames crackling in the hearth. Yet she still hadn't moved from her place behind her desk. She felt useless for once, purposeless; surrounded by futile trinkets and crystals and portents that suddenly mattered not at all. Her gaze bored an uneasy hole into the desk before she spoke quietly to no one at all.

"It begins soon."

*****************************************************

24. Chapter 24: Oblivious Sirius

Chapter 24: "Oblivious Sirius"

Harry left Ron outside the Gryffindor common room and quickly headed towards Lupin's classroom to catch his final class of the day. He'd called a Quidditch practice for before dinner owing to the upcoming match with Ravenclaw, and since what had just happened with Trelawny had left him feeling tired not only in body but in spirit as well, he regretted it. But the match was Saturday, and since it was Thursday, they really needed the practice.

He reached the classroom slightly out of breath and saw Lupin already waiting for him with the room readied and sword in hand. Harry dropped his arms dully.

"Sorry. Got tied up with Trelawny after class."

Lupin tossed him Godric Gryffindor's sword and Harry caught it easily by the hilt, immediately comfortable with its familiar weight in his hand.

"No worries," replied James easily. "She told me she'd be needing you and Ron during our first class, but I am glad you've made it for this one. Ready?"

Harry ran a hand wearily down his face and back up through his hair, shaking his head slightly to try rattling all distracting, oppressive thoughts from his head. He hefted the sword up and fixed Lupin with his best centralised stare.

"All right."

Lupin stared at him for a moment. "Want to try attacking or defending first?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Think I'll attack; get rid of some nervous energy."

"And frustration, perhaps?" said Lupin perceptively, fixing him with a gaze.

Harry sighed. Apparently there would be no fooling anyone today. "Something like that."

Lupin readied himself and took his familiar stance. "Want to talk about it later? Might help."

Harry chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Need to talk on it with Hermione first…but later if you're free, say eight…"

"I'm free," said Lupin as quickly as he could without sounding too excited. "Make it nine though? Full moon out tonight. Snape's been busy since yesterday brewing me a wolfsbane potion."

Harry's lips curled ironically on one side. "That might explain his particularly shitty mood today."

James laughed heartily. "Yes he does love helping me out of a good jam, doesn't he? So Potions went swimmingly, I gather?" He ended sarcastically.

"He's been right pissed off all day," said Harry a little too cheerfully. "Even took twenty points from his own house. Malfoy went spare."

Lupin barked out a laugh, and Harry dropped his sword down, joining him. He then realised abruptly that this was the first time he and his father had laughed together. Funny the things you notice when you never had them to take for granted. He wouldn't know it, but Lupin had noticed too.

They sobered quickly; business to attend to. An hour passed, and the class ended with James flat on his back, his sword in Harry's other hand, and Harry standing over him with the tip of his own blade pressed near his jugular. Nearing the end, their swords a blur of activity with the clashing and clanging of blade against blade, Harry had given James sword a powerful upward arc, wrenching it suddenly from his grasp. In mid-air, Harry had summoned it wandless to his own hand, and had knocked Lupin to the floor.

Lupin, red in the face from exertion and with sweat gleaming on his face and arms, beamed up at his son.

"Brilliant Harry."

Harry, sweating and breathing just as hard, his cheeks blotched with red and his hair wildly in disarray, lifted the tip from his fathers neck and moved backward a bit. In his left hand, he flipped James sword up to catch it by the blade and handed it back to him, hilt first.

James took it and the hand Harry offered him, pulling himself up with a grunt. "Either I'm getting rather old and feeble or you're getting really good."

"Let's hope it's the latter," began Harry without really thinking, pulling up the bottom of his button down shirt to swipe his face with it, "We'll need you when all this comes to…a head…" he trailed off, realising he'd just voiced some of his own fears.

Lupin swiped at his own brow and brought his arm down slowly, gazing at his son. He paused for a moment. "Yes. We will, won't we…"

Harry stood awkwardly for a moment before glancing up at the clock above Lupin. "Oi…I'd better get going. Got to head to the pitch for practice and then shower and meet Hermione for dinner…" he trailed off once again.

Lupin spoke quietly. "It's not easy..is it son?"

Harry stood stock still for a moment. "No it's not. I'll be to your room at nine."

Lupin nodded and watched Harry walk out, thinking to himself that Harry was living proof of the old adage "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger".

************************************************************

Quidditch practice went swiftly enough, and Harry left the pitch, dirty and even sweatier than before, along with Ron; both feeling great about Gryffindor's chances against Ravenclaw.

As they walked at dusk back towards the castle, Quidditch robes billowing behind them in the chilly breeze, brooms thrown carelessly over their shoulders, and boots crunching through a new layer of snow, they discussed Trelawny's latest prediction.

"Well the three links are obvious," said Ron, watching his breath meet the cold and swirl out misty white. "Damn spooky the way she called out the three of us. It's not as if she's seen what's been going on with your bit of wandless magic, or my defensive spells or 'Mione's bizarre healing…"

Harry nodded his agreement. "Just some parts of her prediction I'm stumped on… Like the part 'lest one who's worth is not yet known gives his life for his own'. What in the hell does that mean? How can one give his life for his own life? And his worth not yet known? To who? Makes no sense."

"Dunno." Ron shook his head darkly as if trying to figure it out on his own.

"Don't strain yourself," said Harry snidely.

Ron growled and pulled a punch to Harry's ribs. But neither had the desire to laugh at that particular moment.

Harry sighed as he wrenched one of the huge double-doors to the castle open allowing he and Ron to step inside. "Well, once again we head toward our 'stablest link' for answers."

"I hope she has some to give," Ron smirked half-heartedly. "See you in the Hall."

****************************************************

Harry headed toward his and Hermione's quarters and entered to find her curled on the common room couch asleep; her hand still barely curled around a half-opened book threatening to drop to the floor at any moment.

Harry smiled and shook his head, leaning his Flametorch broom against a wall. "That's my girl."

He squatted beside the couch, content for the moment to watch the shadows from the fire dance across her face. He eased the book from her grasp and closed it, laying it on the floor before brushing a hand across her cheek.

" 'Mione… Wake up sleeping beauty…"

Hermione stirred and opened blurry eyes to see Harry's face before her. Without speaking a word, the first thing she did was curl a hand round his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When they parted, she blinked and took a good look at him. He was dressed in his full game uniform, scarlet robe, elbow and knee guards as well, his hair stood in twenty different directions, he'd shoved his glasses up onto his head, and dirt mingled with sweat smudged his face. He looked wonderful.

"You smell like sweat…and grass."

"Took a few tumbles catching the snitch," Harry grinned and stood, offering her his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure I don't half stink. Left class with dad sweating and sweated even more at practice."

Hermione's jaw dropped as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"Harry!"

Harry frowned. "What? I'm going straight away to shower, I promise…"

"No!" said Hermione smiling. "You…you just said…you just called Professor Lupin your dad."

Harry looked down for a moment and mentally ran through his last two sentences. When he hit on it he looked a bit shocked as well, and scratched at his head with a bit of embarrassment.

"Er…I..guess I did, didn't I?"

Hermione sniffed to try keeping back tears. "You did."

He stared at the floor for a few moments more, unsure what to say. It didn't mean anything…did it? Except maybe I'm getting more used to the idea…or more used to him… Bloody hell, there's too much else to think on at the moment…

"Well, I'll head to the shower and then we'll meet Ron in the Hall for dinner. We've got loads to tell you," said Harry, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. As he headed towards the bathroom, he threw his cloak over the back of the couch, tore off his boots, tossed his elbow and knee pads to the floor and ripped off his shirt, leaving him clad only in the tight corduroy trousers; his broad back gleaming with sweat. Hermione gawped at him.

"T..tell me?" she managed to choke out. In those pants his arse seemed to be a wonder unto itself. She cocked her head and watched it enter the bathroom. "All right…What about?"

"Trelawny's class today," said Harry, his voice echoing from the bathroom. "She said…well, she's had another premonition, of sorts." He shut the door.

Hermione's jaw dropped and she ran to the door, knocking rapidly. "Harry, she what!? Come out! You can't just tell me something like that and leave off!"

She heard Harry turn on the shower. " 'Mione, you, Ron and I will talk on it at dinner. We need to discuss it together."

"But Ron has class with you; he knows already! Let me in there so you can fill me in…"

Harry paused for a moment and then answered brazenly. "Don't tempt me."

Harry's arse…sans pants… Hermione did her best to sound indignant. "I meant we could talk with you behind the curtain, you prat."

Harry laughed at her. "I'll be out soon, love."

Hermione huffed in annoyance and walked away to sit rather heavily on the couch, playing mental games with herself to try thinking of anything but Harry's wet body at the moment.

After a brief shower, Harry and Hermione headed toward the crowded noisy Great Hall and found Ron sitting in their usual spot near the front. They took seats opposite him and Harry began filling his plate until Hermione put a restraining hand on both their arms. Ron reluctantly lowered his forkful of bacon and pease pudding.

"All right, I want information. Now."

"Mione, I'm flippin' starved here," grumbled Ron around his first mouthful. "I need nourishment."

"Talk while you eat…" said Hermione annoyed. "For once, I’m asking you to."

Harry glanced up to see Lavender headed their way and sighed. "Ron, I know Lav's your girl, but we really need to talk the three of us alone, tonight."

"No worries," said Ron with a grimace. "I'm sure she won't be sitting with me."

Sure enough, when Lavender got nearer them, she turned up her nose at Ron without giving him a second glance and continued past them to sit beside Parvarti.

Harry glanced down the table at her and then turned back to cock an eyebrow at Ron. "Trouble in paradise, Ronniekins?"

Hermione jabbed him disapprovingly with her elbow.

Ron scowled at him but then returned to looking slightly dejected. "She's upset with me that I laughed at Seamus in class today. Thinks it's an indication what 'sort of man I am'."

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly. "Man, is it?"

Ron scowled once again. "Her words Hermione, not mine. And yes… I'm of age now, aren't I?"

"I suppose so." Hermione glanced down and suppressed a small smile.

"Anyhow, it'll be a while before we're speaking again, I think; at least until Parvarti stops trying to jinx Seamus. So we've all the privacy we need."

"Good," said Hermione rather sternly. "Then let's get started, shall we? Before I start jinxing you two."

Harry held up a hand. "All right, all right. After Divination today, Trelawny called Ron and I back into the classroom for a while. Said she had something to discuss with us."

"Professor Lupin did say you and Ron had been excused from Advanced DADA today," said Hermione rather breathlessly. "Go on."

Harry took a quick bite of his food and continued. "Told us of another vision she'd had. While she slept last night she saw a bunch of words and some shapes."

Ron nodded and Hermione practically bounced in her seat for more information. "What sort of shapes?"

"Tr'angw…cucwe quuhted," said Ron around the huge mouthful of pudding he'd just stuffed in. "S'm fing w'v sheen…"

Hermione screwed up her face in disgust at him. "Ugh, Ron. Try again."

Ron swallowed with effort. "Sorry…she saw a triangle and a quartered circle. Same as us."

Hermione bit her lip and took a small bite of food as an afterthought. "Hmm, interesting. And the premonition?"

"Oi, look!" Ron brightened proudly, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his pants. "Took your advice and wrote it down before we forgot!"

He pulled out a small piece of parchment and read the whole of it to her.

Hermione listened intently with her mouth slightly open until he was through and then snatched the parchment from him.

"Well…" she breathed, her eyes carefully scanning the words. "She really does divine at times, it seems."

Harry nodded. "That's how we thought. Still, there're a few things we're shaky on; like quite a bit of the last part. The 'one whose worth is not yet known gives his life for his own' completely stumps me…And what the circle represents, I'm not sure."

Hermione thought for a moment and lowered her fork, most of her food completely untouched. "I have a suspicion…but before I'm certain I'll need to research something…"

She began to stand.

Harry lowered his fork as well. " 'Mione, we can at least finish eating…"

"You and Ron go ahead," said Hermione, once again lapsing into one-track-mindedness. "I want to look this up while it's fresh in my mind…You can meet me at our common room later."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "All right."

He watched her go, and a few moments later, Lavender finished as well and sauntered toward he and Ron, flipping her blonde hair haughtily.

"Well…so you two've managed to drive away another woman, have you? What sort of piggish things have you found to laugh at now?"

Harry gawped at her in amusement and Ron threw his head back with a groan. "Oh for the love of Merlin, Lav. Let it go, will you?"

Lavender instantly scowled. "I will not, Ronald Weasley! It's horrible how you, Dean, and you for that matter," she narrowed her eyes at Harry, "started the whole class laughing at poor Parvarti! She thought Seamus really fancied her…"

Ron stared at her. "He does! He just fancies a few others as well!"

Lavender suddenly looked incensed. "What!? So you reckon this is all right, do you!?"

"Of course!" answered Ron incredulously. Harry groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes for a moment. Ron…stop now…just stop now…

"Better he play the field for a while and find the right one than settle just yet! What if he finds someone more suitable!? It wouldn't be fair to Parvarti either!"

"And the bracelet?" seethed Lavender.

Ron looked as if he'd completely lost the plot. "Don't you like jewellery?"

Lavender stood rigidly for a moment, completely dumbfounded at Ron's idiocy and then hissed quietly. "Ronald Weasley…you great, dumb clot…I don't know what I ever saw in you!"

She stomped away angrily, leaving half the Gryffindor table, who'd been watching with great amusement, snickering as she left. Dean howled out loud. Only Parvarti seemed unamused. Ron glanced round at them all with a completely gobsmacked look on his face.

"Gods Ron…" Harry closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

Ron jaw hung open. "What'd I do!?"

Harry groaned.

"WHAT!?"

(A/N: Bama loves Clueless!Ron. ;0)

******************************************************

Harry and Ron finished their dinner in an awkward silence. It didn't help that half of Gryffindor table were still snickering and covertly discussing Ron's situation with Lavender. Harry spent the better part of the way back to his and Hermione's dorms trying to pound common sense into Ron's thick skull.

"…so since Seamus had given it to every other girl he'd wanted to make it with, it wasn't a gift at all, you see?" said Harry, putting a different perspective on a situation he'd already tried to explain to Ron more than three times so far.

"But he gave her jewellery mate," said Ron blatantly as if Harry was somewhat naive. "I mean he wouldn't have given her anything at all if she weren't something to him, right?"

They'd reached the portrait door, and Harry found himself wishing Sir Cadogen would ride up and hack him to death with his tiny sword. How in Merlin's name was Ron so utterly clueless?

Harry sighed deeply. "Ron…let's let Hermione try and explain it to you, all right? Dragon's lair." The portrait opened automatically owing to the absence of the tiny knight.

Ron followed him in muttering under his breath. "…nothing to bloody explain…got a good grasp on things, I think…"

Harry rolled his eyes, and at that moment, Hermione walked out from her room with her nose in a book, muttering to herself in much the same way. She nearly bumped headlong into Harry before she realised the two of them had entered. He caught her by the arms before she nose-dived into the floor. She looked suddenly flustered.

"Oh! You're back then, are you?"

Harry began to respond snarkily to her but she cut him off before he could. "Good. I've got loads to share with you two."

She and Harry took a seat next to Ron, who continued to look sulky at Harry's insinuation he needed help with members of the opposite sex. If she noticed anything untoward, Hermione ignored it magnificently.

"All right. So I went to Professor Dumbledore's office right on leaving here," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

Harry started at her. "Dumbledore's office? 'Mione, you didn't go to share anything with him, did you?"

This snapped her attention back to him. "If you'll remember Harry, Professor Dumbledore gave us his password to come talk to him anytime we wanted. We are Head boy and girl, after all. Personally I don't understand why you don't want to talk to him about any of this. He cares about you so much."

"Exactly why," said Harry with a sigh. Seeing Hermione's look, he finished quickly. "Not that I don't appreciate it mind you, it's just that I want to make decisions on my own if I can. I'm bloody seventeen Hermione. I don't need Dumbledore deciding to take any matters on my life into his own hands."

Ron finally spoke up. "And you don't think your dad is filling him in on everything you tell him…"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe so. But at least he's noticed it's not me doing it. If I need his help or advice, I'll ask for it. I think he knows that."

Hermione smiled. "Well if I know Professor Dumbledore at all, he's right glad your talking to your father about things. He'd much rather it be Lupin you're confiding in than himself, I'm sure."

Harry stiffened just a bit. The subject of him coming to his father for advice usually made him bristle, though he wasn't quite sure what it was about it that made him feel so. The only thing he could deduce was that he'd always had to take care of himself, and he couldn't imagine delegating that task to a man that had been absent his whole life, however out of the ordinary the circumstances were. True, he had shared some things with James, but to be truthful to himself, he would've felt more comfortable sharing them with Sirius. If it weren't for the bloody ministry watching every floo network like hawks, even the ones at Hogwarts, he would've done by now. But there was no way he was going to risk Sirius getting caught.

Hermione noticed his change in demeanour immediately. "Oh Harry, I’m sorry… I know how difficult it's been for you to share things with him. I didn't mean to…"

Harry put a hand to her face. "No, it's all right. No worries."

A short silence filled the room before Ron broke the awkwardness. "So what'd Dumbledore have to say?"

Hermione seized on the change of subject, and sensed Harry was grateful for it as well. "I didn't exactly go there to see him. He wasn't there anyway. I went to speak to the sorting hat."

Ron sat up quickly. "The sorting hat? As in have a conversation with it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes Ron. It can talk if you'll recall."

"Yeah but I didn't know it could actually carry on a discussion with you!" said Ron dumbfounded. "I thought all it was good for was sorting and coming up with a new song every year."

Hermione sighed deeply as if once again she found a friendship with two boys to be very taxing. "Once again Ron, I'd like to stress that if you'd ONLY READ Hogwarts: A History, you would never have to ask me such ridiculous questions again…"

"All right!" said Ron exasperated, holding up a hand. "Nevermind…it's not worth it! Just go on."

Harry grinned covertly at the two of them as she continued. "Well…what Trelawny said, about the quartered circle… I had an idea what it could mean but I wasn't certain until I asked the sorting hat to sing for me again the song it did in our fifth year."

"You actually remember that song?" asked Harry, impressed.

"I remembered it enough that it seemed to apply to this," said Hermione, holding up the scrap of parchment with Trelawny's prediction written in Ron's untidy, loopy scrawl. "However, I couldn't remember it entirely. I had the hat sing it for me again. Once it was through and I told it the part about the circle, it seemed to agree with me."

"It agreed with you!?" asked Ron incredulously. "As if the bloody thing's alive?"

Hermione sighed in aggravation. "Merlin Ron, what'd I just say…"

Harry groaned despite himself. "For the love of Quidditch just go on. Ron shut it, will you?"

Ron shot him a filthy look but allowed Hermione to continue.

"So the prediction states: 'Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one. For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain. All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand'." Quoted Hermione.

"Now, what can we think of that's been divided into fourths? Something that has sometimes brought about strife because of it?"

Harry and Ron thought for a few moments before Harry finally spoke.

"The only thing I can think that might pertain is the four houses in Hogwarts. We know in the beginning the four houses got along fine…and then some conflicts came about because of the division."

"Too right!" exclaimed Hermione breathlessly. "Which is why I wanted the sorting hat to sing over its song from fifth year. I did a recollection spell so we could hear it in its entirety again but I think I'll just forward to the relevant parts."

Ron seemed relieved and let out a sigh he hadn't meant Hermione to hear. She fixed him with an exasperated glare before deciding to ignore him. Holding her wand upright and turning it counter-clockwise twice, she then flicked the wand toward the wall above the mantle of the fireplace.

"Resonomelos Sorting Hat, fifth year!"

The bit of wall above the fireplace suddenly gave off a gentle purple radiance before words began etching themselves out in an ancient scrawl. An echoing melody began to filter through the dim room, and Harry and Ron leaned forward on their knees staring intently at the wall, at once recognising the old scratchy voice of the sorting hat. It hadn't come up with a new song since fifth year.

"In times of old when I was new and Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school thought never to be parted.

United by a common goal they had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school and pass along their learning…"

"All right, I'll forward to the parts we need especially to hear," said Hermione, raising her wand once more. She began this time to twirl it clock-wise, and the song sped up almost comically, the words a blur as they appeared astonishingly fast on the wall, and the voice becoming at once high-pitched and very fast paced. But while Harry and Ron might've normally found this funny, there was no humour in it for them this night, only a desire to pay close attention. The song began explaining to them certain parts of Trelawny's prophecy they had previously been unsure about.

Hermione lowered her wand and the song slowed to normal pace once more.

"…So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

For each house's name said, Harry held up one finger. Hermione paused the song as he turned to her and Ron holding up four.

"Hogwarts divided into four houses. A circle, separated into four parts. And what represents wholeness more than a circle? There's no angles to ford off sharply like with a square or rectangle. What other shape describes unity as well as it?"

Both Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione forwarded the song a bit again, slowing it until it came to another desirable part.

"…So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the Houses been united

As they once were meant to be…"

"Notice," said Hermione as she paused the song once again, "When Slytherin left the fighting died off. Maybe Salazar was the one making certain the school stayed in discord and divided."

"It seems he did his job well too," said Harry thoughtfully. "Even after he left, the damage had been done, hadn't it? The school never reunited as it was meant to, did it?"

Ron gave a low whistle of surprise. "I never knew the sorting hat would be so important…"

Hermione chose to leave the comment alone and continue the song where it left off.

"And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into Houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you....

Let the Sorting now begin."

"Know the perils, read the signs; the warning history shows. For our Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes," repeated Ron with wide eyes as the song ended. The direness of it all was beginning to hit him full force. Hermione 'scourgified' the song from the wall, and the room was plunged into silence and the dim orange glow from the fireplace once more.

"Voldemort could be the prediction's 'bane'," Ron spoke into the new silence of the room. "He always did want to purge the school, didn't he? He started to with Moaning Myrtle. That certainly could be a warning from history, couldn't it?"

"He especially wanted it 'cleansed' when it came to his own house," added Hermione quietly.

Ron suddenly sat bolt upright, his face draining of colour. "The purge of lines…Harry, now he knows you're a Slytherin too, there's nothing more he wants than to get rid of you and the other offshoot of Slytherins' line you represent. The one that should have never been, right mate?"

Harry looked stunned for a moment. "I never thought of it that way before, but if he got rid of me, the last heir of Aberdeen's affair, or the last he knows of, his 'line would be purged', wouldn't it? And…"

Hermione spoke up in almost a whisper. "The innocent slain…Voldemort also wants only pure-blooded wizards involved in our world. In fact, he only wants pure-bloods, I believe. The first thing he'd do when able was to rid the world of Muggles and half-bloods." She clasped her hands very tightly in her lap and shuddered despite herself.

Harry saw her gazing down in fear and took one of her hands, while his other came up to clasp her chin and force her eyes to his. His determined gaze burned into hers, and his eyes held a cold, deadly resolve. "He's never going to touch you, you hear me Hermione? I won't let him near you. I'll kill him first."

Something began to happen, something that had never happened before. Harry's whole body began to glow in much the same way Hermione's hand had when healing Malfoy's injuries. He seemed unaware at the moment it was happening, but his eyes burned with an almost neon green fire, and the whole of his body began emanating a luminescent sapphire blue. It shimmered and wavered around him like an enormous halo and burned brighter and brighter the longer his gaze locked with hers. Hermione felt a fluttering in her chest so concentrated that it was almost painful. She'd only once before seen that look on his face, one that might send even the fiercest of enemies scurrying for shelter. It was when he'd faced Voldemort in the Kavan Forest last year. But there hadn't been the eerie bright blue glow, and the palpable, metallic taste and smell that seemed to be hovering about him. Even without ever experiencing anything like it before, Hermione was sure of what it was. It was power. Great, unharnessed, pulsing, throbbing power, like a rogue lightning bolt from an electrical storm. She could almost feel the hairs on her body standing. Harry's gaze burned with a fire that almost scared her breathless.

"H..Harry," was all she could sputter out.

Ron for his part seemed frozen in place. He was staring at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "Mate…are you all right?"

The two voices seemed to bring Harry down, and the aura around him suddenly dissipated with an audible SNAP.

Harry lowered his brows at Ron and released Hermione's hand. "What? Why'd you ask? 'Course I am. I'm just not going to let Voldemort get to Hermione; or you mate…No matter what…whatever it takes…"

He'd finished the latter part of his sentence as if speaking only to himself, and Hermione suddenly felt a sharp bolt of fear stab at her chest. It would be just like Harry to recklessly sacrifice himself if he thought it would save her or Ron…

"What'd you mean by that!?" Her voice came out like a breath, and she instinctively gripped at his sleeve. "What'd you mean 'whatever it takes'!?" A pulsing panic began to tighten the walls of her chest and she felt the sudden urge to grab onto Harry like a vice and never let him go.

Even Ron seemed to have balked at Harry's last statement and spoke up roughly. "Don't say things like that mate. We're all in this together remember? Have done since the beginning. Don't you ever forget that."

Harry immediately lightened and shook his head. "I wasn't…I didn't mean to scare you two. I just…if he ever…ever tried to… Let's just concentrate on Trelawny's prediction, all right? One thing at a time."

Ron nodded, at once settling to the task at hand with Harry following, but Hermione merely watched the two talk for a moment, her focus solely on Harry. For some reason the sense of foreboding would not go away. If Harry had a fault that stuck out in her mind, it was that he was reckless when it came to his friends. And now more than ever, the threat that he might somehow be forced, in his own mind, to take certain burdens on himself to spare others, loomed before her like terror made physical and solid, a fear she could almost reach out and grab hold of. If she somehow lost him, Hermione was certain she would somehow live on, though hollow and empty. But the question had never been that. The question had been, if Harry was lost to her, would life be worth the living?

Her eyes traced his face, somehow boyish and manly all at the same time. His dark messy hair waved all over his head, and the absurdly long lashes were tipped with gold from the fire glow. She watched the dimple mar his left cheek as he smirked at something Ron said, watched his form as he leaned forward on his knees and snuck a glance at her, seeing her and waiting for a reassuring glance back. She gave him one, but though he saw it, he couldn't see the heartbreak that lay within. Voldemort's threat had somehow become more real for her in the span of only a few moments.

Oh Harry, could I live on if you didn't? Her body would remain, of that she was certain; but her heart and soul would forever be clutched in his hand.

Harry turned to smile grimly at her, and a physical pain stabbed her chest.

"Hermione? Come join us, will you? We need you on this too…"

As she moved over closer to them both, Hermione realised that the subject had changed to Parvarti and the bracelet. Thank Merlin for Ron, she thought with a small smile. Sometimes he brought about a much needed lightness and humour. But as she concentrated on helping him understand the female mind, (although she rather thought it was common sense) she was also supremely aware that a new heavier fear had saddled her heart.

***************************************************

Nine o'clock came round more suddenly than Harry had expected, and he, Hermione and Ron, after Hermione's overly simplified explanation of the bracelet fiasco, had still failed to figure out a few parts of the prophecy. But, he figured, there were some things one wouldn't figure out until they came to pass, weren't there?

He and Ron left Hermione still doggedly poring over books of prophecy in an attempt to find out more, and when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry left Ron as well, with Ron fervently promising that he now understood why Parvarti felt the way she did, and that he was going to make things right with Lavender straight away.

"That is if I don't screw it up by making another dumb-arse comment," said Ron frustratedly. "I just never know when one's coming."

Harry knew he'd meant he never knew when something he said was inappropriate, but he laughed at Ron's wording all the same, until Ron punched him hard in the arm. They tussled good-naturedly outside the common room for a few moments before he swore at himself for the time and ran to make it to Lupin's private quarters, leaving Ron with a matching bruise on his arm.

As he sauntered along with hands jammed into the pockets of his robes, Harry mused about the fact that he was still nervous, after four months or so of knowing James, to have one-on-one conversations with him. He hated the awkwardness of always being hyper-aware of every word his father said; looking for clues that weren't necessarily there, or hidden agenda's in his father's advice. He supposed it would be hard for him to ever fully trust him, and yet, here he was headed toward his room to talk things over with him. How he wished he could talk with Sirius as well…

Once there, Harry rapped lightly on the door. He heard a muffled 'come in' and entered the room, closing the door lightly behind him.

James was seated somewhat rigidly near the fireplace in his small room, with an extra plush chair next to him, obviously for Harry. His father smiled and motioned for Harry to join him, but before he did, Harry took a few moments to survey James' living quarters.

It was basically one large room, with half-partition walls separating the bathroom from small kitchen, to living area, to small bedroom. The living area consisted only of two plush golden coloured chairs, large shag-like deep red carpeting thrown over the stone floor, a couple of bookcases, and a polished wooden mantle over a large fireplace.

As Harry made his way toward James, he noticed loads of pictures on the mantle. To his surprise, his parents had mapped out every bit of his short life with them. A picture of a red, wrinkled new-born with a shock of black hair, in the midst of a silent fit of screaming stood in the middle, titled: Harry James Potter, 31 July 1980. In another, Harry was seated in a high-chair with a face full of cake that he had obviously smeared up into his hair. Lily, with James arm round her, was in the background having a hearty laugh at him. There was a "1" candle lit on top of the rest of the cake, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how long after this happy event Voldemort had attacked. More pictures stared at him from worn frames. Harry swinging in between his grinning parents hands, obviously in some park. Harry perched atop his father's shoulders, grabbing onto the shock of dark hair so much like his own for dear life. Lily holding baby Harry and grinning into his face as Harry laughed back. James with little Harry perched in front of him on a Shooting Star (must've been a top model broom then), his father grinning wildly and ruffling Harry's hair much like he used to do his own. Pictures of James and Lily themselves graced the mantle as well. Dancing pictures where they looked so in love, pictures of them at school, wedding pictures. There were even pictures of James along with the rest of the Marauders, grinning and acting like idiots, and Harry felt his mind swirling with the thought that he must now, in his own mind, switch the face of the James in the picture with Lupin.

Somehow, although Harry knew it shouldn't have, the sight of the pictures came as quite a shock to him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that it was just one more reminder of how unwanted he'd felt his whole life, and how wrong he'd been.

Harry finally turned to look at his father, who had been silent the entire time, and saw the ghost of a sad tight smile on his face. As Harry sat, Lupin tried to change the mood a bit.

"Well, it's not much compared to the Gryffindor common room, I'm sure," said Lupin with a small, nervous laugh. "But I assure you it's a palace compared to some of the other places I've lived."

Harry nodded, still not quite trusting himself to speak just yet, but Lupin spoke first anyway.

"Harry…I…thought…I thought it might well be time to invite someone else in on our conversations."

Harry frowned. Lupin sounded as if he were dreading something, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't deduce what it was.

"All right," he drawled out slowly, eyeing him. "Who?"

Lupin spoke after a beat of hesitation. "Sirius."

Harry instantly brightened and sat straight up. "You're wh…I mean really!? But what about the Ministry? Dumbledore's been pounding it in my head they're watching the floo networks here like hawks, especially now they know I've been in contact with him before…"

Lupin felt a twinge of jealousy run through him at Harry's obvious excitement and raised a hand to stop him. Harry fell silent. "I've worked it out with Dumbledore. The Ministry was certainly not able to bug every single floo network here. There're hundreds of hearths in Hogwarts set to it, and mine happens to be one of them. This room was vacant for years before Dumbledore gave me use of it so they had no need of watching over it. He's conveniently forgotten to inform the Ministry it's now being occupied."

Harry instantly felt a little more forgiving toward the Headmaster. "So have you been in contact with him this whole time!? Why haven't you let me know!? I've wanted to talk to him for ages…"

"Actually Harry, I haven't," said Lupin quietly. "I…I haven't been in contact with Sirius for some months now…almost four, to be exact."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his father until a look of stunned comprehension began to dawn on his face. "Don't tell me…don't you tell me Sirius doesn't know…"

Lupin sat very straight in his chair, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's. "He doesn't."

Harry felt as if he'd been punched. "How could he possibly not know!? You and he were best mates in school! If anyone would know the difference between Remus Lupin and James Potter it would be him!"

"You're absolutely right," said James, nodding along with his son's words. "And if he had found out, Harry…If Sirius were suddenly to find out his best friend was still alive, how do you think he'd react?"

Harry's reply was instant. "He'd have come after you! He'd have wanted to be with you, help you find Peter Pettigrew, fight your fights, help you with me… with.. Voldemort…" he trailed off, and understood.

"Yes…he would have," answered James slowly. "And that's why, every time he found out and confronted me with it, how much I spoke like James, how much my mannerisms copied James, I had to make him forget. For his own good I had to make him forget, to keep him out of sight and away from the Ministry's bloody watchful eyes."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You obliviated him."

Lupin nodded sadly. "It's been lonely without him. I can't tell you how many times I was tempted just to let him be. To let him find out I was still alive…but I couldn't put him in that type of danger. Knowing Padfoot, he never would've left my side after that. I couldn't do that to him…or to you. I wanted nothing to tip off the fact I was..am your father."

And the very next question that popped into Harry's thoughts was one he knew, even in the utter chaos and confusion of finding out who Lupin really was, he should've thought to ask long, long ago. Immediately Harry felt every muscle in his body knot with tension. If James had been alive this whole time…

"And what about the twelve years Sirius spent in Azkaban," Harry seethed dangerously, now perching as if ready to spring from his seat. "You've known all along it wasn't him that killed those Muggles that day in the street. That Peter Pettigrew survived that attack; that he did it himself…"

"Wait Harry, let me explain," said James immediately.

Harry's breathing was very shallow and he seemed on the point of violence, but he sat himself back in the chair, his piercing gaze never leaving his father's. "All right, I’m listening."

Lupin closed his eyes for a moment, painful memories resurfacing to tug painfully inside his chest. He swallowed down the lump that had risen so suddenly and began to tell the story.

"After Lily and Remus were killed and you were taken to the Dursley's, I immediately went into hiding in the Muggle world for a while. Dumbledore was my only source of news, so suffice it to say, I didn't get much that often as neither of us wanted the neighbours getting suspicious, or Voldemort and his followers for that matter. But Dumbledore did deem it important information for me to know the day Sirius was framed for the murder of the twelve Muggles and supposedly Pettigrew. I met Hagrid in Diagon Alley the next day, and he took me straight to Hogwarts where Dumbledore and I argued for the better part of the next week over what to do. Of course, I wanted to testify on his behalf as Remus Lupin, but Albus informed me Fudge had already believed him guilty, and had sent him straight to Azkaban without a trial."

"Sirius never got a trial?" asked Harry incredulously. "Why?"

"Because even back then Lucius Malfoy had Fudge in his wealthy back pocket. And I believe Lucius was already on Voldemort's side. Having heard James Potter's infant son defeated the most 'powerful wizard in the world', I think nothing pleased Malfoy or Voldemort more than to see James' best friend headed to Azkaban for murder. And with the very wizard supposedly murdered helping Malfoy out with details…well."

Harry took in the information and filed it away with what he already knew. "So Sirius went to Azkaban. Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get him out? He would've done for you if the situations were reversed. I know he would've."

Lupin sighed downheartedly. "You and he've become quite close, haven't you?"

Harry set his jaw and spoke in low tones. "He's the closest thing to a father I've had for a very long time. Yes, we have."

Lupin felt the impact of his son's words like a blow to the chest, but steeled himself against it anyway. What else could he have expected? And if it couldn't be himself acting as Harry's father this whole time, there was no one else he would've picked over Sirius, was there?. Yet, it was still painful to see how Sirius had virtually replaced James in Harry's life.

"You haven't answered my question," said Harry bluntly. "Why didn't you and Dumbledore fight to get Sirius released..."

"We did Harry," said James quite sadly. He clawed a hand frustratedly through Lupin's straight brown hair. "We fought Fudge for twelve long years trying to get him out until we'd exhausted every witness and resource we had. If you'll remember, before Sirius broke out of Azkaban, there hadn't been a breakout for some odd fifty years. How do you think he was finally able to get free?"

Harry hadn't considered this before, and he now thought rather stupidly of himself for it. Lupin answered the question for him.

"Still have my old invisibility cloak?"

Harry blinked hard and shot his gaze back to his fathers. "No…that doesn't make sense! Sirius didn't have the cloak then, I did. Still do."

"You think that's the only one in existence?" said Lupin almost dully, as if the memory of the past was beginning to wear him down. "True they are rare. More rare than you could possibly imagine. The wards around Azkaban are so strong, there is absolutely no penetrating it from the outside. Dumbledore and I had one of his operatives hiding out close to there almost every week for years and years trying out some new spell or incantation to break in. Nothing ever worked. Until we found out Sirius was still lucid enough to receive and read the Prophet from his cell. I hadn't thought it possible that he still had that much of his mind about him, but he did. To this day, I still don't know how he managed it. In any case, that's when I began to realise that if we could somehow slip in something for him to use, he was possibly cognisant enough to break himself out. We planned for months, and finally devised the only way to get it in to him. We had one of Dumbledore's own people sent away."

"To Azkaban?" asked a baffled Harry.

"Yes," said Lupin. "Only we had a loyal Ministry official from the inside, not one of Fudge's own men escort him in. I would've done myself but Dumbledore thought it would look too suspicious, besides the fact I didn't need to be seen. Anyhow, he hid with him an invisibility cloak we'd nicked from the Department of Magical Artifacts. It took months of torment before Dumbledore's man and Sirius were able to escape; at which time during the waiting, Dumbledore hired me on here at Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Mainly because Hogwarts needed one and I was well versed in it having been in the Order of the Phoenix myself, but also to await Sirius' escape."

Harry was dumbfounded. "I'm…this is a bit much to take in all at once…on top of everything else," he finished somewhat sourly.

Lupin closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "I understand…Now you have to understand something. Sirius knows of everything I've just told you, down to the very last detail..except for one thing."

Harry glanced up at him. "Who you really are."

James nodded slowly, the weight of such a heavy burden for so many years etched permanently in the lines on his face. "And now that you know, it's time he knows too."

"What about what you just said though?" asked Harry, leaning forward on his knees. "What about the fact he won't be able to keep himself from wanting to help us?"

"I've thought that over a lot myself Harry," said James with a wry smile. "And here's the conclusion Dumbledore and I've come up with. The final war with Voldemort is approaching so fast we aren't even assured tomorrow. And when that day comes, I want Sirius standing with us; Ministry be damned. I know he'd want the same thing. Remus and Lily are dead because of that bastard Harry. And I know once the battle is over, new lines will be drawn and old lies will be brought to light. I believe he will be exonerated anyway. Especially if Dumbledore takes over Fudge's position. And he will, either way the battle falls. No wizard or witch in their right minds will want Fudge back in power when they find out how long he's been trying to deceive them."

Harry nodded slowly. "So you think Dumbledore'll let him fight, do you?"

Lupin set his mouth into a grim line. "I think once the war finally does start there'll be no way he can stop him. Whether or not Sirius ever found out I was really James, he'd still be involved in this war. After Sirius denounced the Blacks, Lily and I were all he had. Do you see? Voldemort took away part of his family, just the same as he took mine."

Harry nodded his head heavily, the realisation that the lines in the sand were being drawn and the stage for war was being set weighing down so oppressively on his shoulders, that all he could think of was how much he wanted to get back to his and Hermione's common room and hide away with her again for the night. But he needed to see Sirius as well; needed to be there for him when he found out who Lupin really was; and needed to be there when he came apart. Because he would just as certainly as Harry had, he mused grimly. And as certainly as James was family, so was Sirius, almost more so. He just hoped when the revelation came Sirius would be able to withstand it.

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A/N: I hope this clears some things up for you guys. I did my best on this, and tried to determine how the characters would react and feel in the situations I've put them in! Anyway, thanks sooooo much to all of you who review, you're all so awesome and really make me keep going! If not for your reviews, I would have probably stopped long ago because you make writing worth it; besides the actual thrill of writing my own storyline! (SQUEE!) Anyhoo, please continue to give me your thoughts, and I will certainly continue to write for you. Cheers! Bama.

25. Chapter 25: Reunion

Chapter 25: Reunion

James Potter turned to his son, sitting beside him in front of the now extinguished fireplace and noted the grim, foreboding look on his face. Truth be told, he felt exactly the same way.

"You ready then?" asked James quietly.

Harry shifted rigidly in his seat; cold prickles of nervousness shooting down his spine. His eyes stayed glued to the floo. "Doesn't matter. He needs to know."

James nodded in agreement and stood, stepping close to the hearth. He pulled up what Harry realised was a fake plant from a flowerpot near him and reached inside, grabbing a small palmful of what looked like lime-green ash. After replacing the false plant, he tossed the substance into the fire and watched as a wall of green flames suddenly whooshed up to lick the insides of the fireplace.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

As Lupin stuck his head in the flames and felt the familiar nauseating sensation of his head being screwed off like a top, he opened his eyes to finally find himself staring at the sparse unkempt living room of Sirius Black.

Back on the other side, his eyes planted firmly on the lower torso of his father, Harry wrung his hands in nervousness.

James took a few moments to let the vertigo pass, and then called out quietly. "Padfoot…"

No answer. "Padfoot!" Lupin called, his eyes scanning the room as far as his vision could take him. "Sirius, are you there mate?"

A rushed thumping sound came from somewhere toward his left, and Lupin finally saw Sirius Black rush round the fireplace and throw himself haphazardly on the carpet in front of the fire, his eyes at once scanning the face of his friend.

"Remus! Where've you been!? It's been months since we last spoke, why haven't you…Hang on…is it Harry? What's happened…"

Remus quickly shook his head and steeled himself, fighting down the small surge of jealousy that stung him at the paternal sound in his friend's voice. Sirius, though looking pale from all the months of being cooped up inside, looked no worse for the wear. His long, unkempt hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and a few days worth of stubble roughened his cheeks. He looked as if he'd been taking better care of himself. He'd filled out more, and the haunted look that had once been a permanent feature on his face seemed to be slowly disappearing. Inwardly, James felt a bit of relief wash over him. The last thing Sirius needed was to be in poor health for what was in store.

"No, no. Calm yourself, Sirius. Harry's fine…In fact, he's here with me now."

Sirius narrowed his brown eyes and moved to perch himself rigidly on the edge of his couch. "There with you…and where exactly might that be?"

"Hogwarts."

He started. "Hogwarts!? What in Merlin's name are you doing there? And for that matter, what're you doing flooing me from there unless something's happened!?"

Just from watching the lower half of his father's body, Harry could see the nerves stiffening his spine. Lupin's torso shifted uncomfortably and for the life of him, Harry wished he could hear the conversation on the other side. Just hurry up for the love of god…get him over here…

"Dumbledore's offered me the teaching position over the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class," replied Remus as he steadied his voice. "Along with extra classes for Harry in particular."

"Advanced DADA?" said Sirius surprised. "That's a new one, I take it. And extra classes for what?"

Lupin paused, feeling out his next words. "Well, I've…been schooling him in a bit of…a bit of fencing."

Once again Sirius frowned in confusion, but an ironic smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. "Fencing aye? I'm surprised Dumbledore chose you as his teacher, no offence, mate. You never were that steady with the sword, were you? That was always James' strong suit. Took after his father, I reckon."

Lupin paled. "Yes..er well…suffice it to say I’m glad I've gotten better at it. With what's been happening round here, Harry might very soon have need of it."

At the last sentence, Sirius stood up so swiftly that the small coffee table in front of him almost toppled over. He reached behind him to grab his wand out from his back pocket. "With what's been happening!? What'd you mean!? Does this have to do with Harry!?

"Harry…among others," said Lupin quietly after a small pause.

"And why, might I ask, is this the first I've heard of it?" Sirius hissed angrily. "We bloody well did promise we'd keep the other informed if one of us got any news, didn't we!? Or was that some other two wizards I'm getting us confused with!?"

"I'm here telling you now, aren't I?" said Lupin quickly.

"And yet for some reason I get the feeling you've waited to get in contact with me. In fact, I get the distinct feeling you've been trying to avoid me for some months now," said Sirius with a hard, sardonic edge to his voice. "In case you've missed it Remus, I'm his bloody godfather, for shitsake! I more than anyone else am entitled to know what's going on with Harry!"

"More than anyone else!?" James suddenly blurted out angrily through his teeth. "You're not even his fa…" But he stopped himself before what he had to divulge came out in a much different way than he'd intended.

"I'm sorry, Padfoot. I'm sorry." James shook the brown hair from Remus' eyes frustratedly. "Look old friend, I've had a talk with Dumbledore. He's agreed so long as you stay in my room and don't leave it, you can come to visit Harry and I whenever you like. I really think now would be a good time. We…I mean I have things to discuss with you."

Sirius glanced down to the floor angrily and leaned forward on his knees. "Brilliant. So he's agreed to allow me to transfer occasionally from one prison to another, is that it? How generous of him."

"You're not wanting back into Azkaban, are you?" asked Remus harshly. "Because the way I see it until the Ministry clears you; if anyone other than Dumbledore, the Order, or Harry and his two friends sees you that's exactly where you're headed."

Sirius eyed him angrily for a few moments but wisely decided not to answer, knowing full well the truthfulness of his friend's words. He finally stood. "And where am I headed now?"

"You have floo powder?" asked Remus shortly.

Sirius favoured him with a curt half-nod. "Ironically, yes I do."

"Good. Room number one twenty one, Hogwarts. We'll see you in a few." And Remus Lupin's head disappeared from the floo.

Harry leaned forward on his knees, nervously bouncing his leg up and down; his hands clasped white-knuckled before him. As his father finally, mercifully pulled his head back from the fire and stood upright swiping ash from his face, Harry immediately noticed the look of frustration. He quickly jumped to his feet.

"Well?" said Harry anxiously.

"He'll be here in a few moments," said Lupin as he moved his chair away from the hearth and motioned for Harry to do the same.

As he did so and stood back, Harry's heartbeat began to pound out wave after wave of dread and he nervously clawed a hand through his hair. His eyes stayed glued on the hearth as they had been moments before. For some reason, he felt more nervous for Sirius than he had for himself the night he sat facing Dumbledore and Lupin, knowing they had kept some earth-shattering secret from him they were about to divulge. He guessed knowing how it had effected him made it almost unbearable for him to watch the same happen to Sirius. He felt though, that the impact for Sirius might somehow be even more intense than it had been for himself.

Sirius had known Remus Lupin as long as he had known James Potter. Not only would he soon be shocked with the knowledge that his best friend was still alive, but he would also have to deal with the fact that for all these years, he hadn't been sharing a relationship with Remus Lupin at all. That in fact, his friend was dead, and had been for the past sixteen years.

Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other and jammed his hands in the pockets of his robes; all thoughts of what he'd previously come to discuss with Lupin banished from his mind. Once again he fought the desire to run back to Hermione and seal their portrait door shut to the world. He immediately felt selfish, but it was hard to suppress the urge to return to where he felt safest and most normal. After sixteen years of never having a loving haven to retreat to, it was hard for Harry not to wish he was there most of the time. He sighed out loud, and Lupin glanced at him.

"You don't have to be here for this Harry," he said quietly.

Harry instantly had to push down the outraged response that leapt to his mind. No…he just doesn't understand, that's all…he doesn't understand… "Yes I do. I have to be here for Sirius. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Yes I can…" Lupin gazed over at his son without resentment, but swallowed down the lump that seemed nowadays to reside permanently in his throat. "And I will, Harry. I'm proud of you son. No matter what, I'm proud of you."

Harry blinked a few times, obviously surprised at the response he'd just gotten. Those simple words of acceptance from James over Harry and Sirius' relationship did more for Harry towards his father than anything else before combined. He only had the willpower at the moment to nod gratefully at him.

A great whoosh sounded in the fireplace, and a gusty cloud of ash preceded Sirius Black as he landed unsteadily on his feet in the hearth and stepped out, his eyes immediately falling on his godson and Lupin. He cleaned the mess and himself with a flick of his wand.

A genuine grin split his face, and it seemed to Harry as if it'd been a long time since he'd last seen that expression on him.

"Harry," Sirius walked over to him and gave him a swift hug.. "It's good to see you."

Harry felt himself grinning back despite the situation. "You too."

Sirius nodded cordially to Lupin, missing the fact that for a moment, he'd looked away from the two.

"Good to see you again," said Lupin, walking over to the two to shake his friend's hand.

"You too Moony," replied Black, finally moving to seat himself at one of the three chairs surrounding the small dining table near the kitchen. As he sat, he took a brief moment to eye his friend's surroundings. "Not bad…not bad at all."

Lupin nodded his agreement, and he and Harry took chairs at the table as well. Sirius eyed the two as they sat, making note of the fact that both men, the younger and the older, seemed a bit strained, at best. His suspicions began to rise even more.

"Butterbeer?" asked Lupin as he made to rise from the table as soon as he'd sat.

Sirius raised a hand and spoke up sternly. "No, thank you, Remus. But what I would like is an explanation. Being holed up in the old estate I don't get a lot of information but from what you've said it's obvious Voldemort's been showing himself again. Whatever's been going on here, I want a part of it. I'm entitled to it, I think."

"No!" Harry barked out. He turned to him directly, instantly frightened at the thought that Sirius might do something to get himself caught. "There's nothing you or anyone else can do right now. We don't know where he is or what he's planning as of yet."

Lupin watched Sirius eye them furtively, and decided to move ahead with the issue of Voldemort first. "I reckon you've heard about the Dementors defecting…"

Sirius nodded. "Thankfully Dumbledore floo's me the Prophet daily; too risky with owls. He at least understands I need to keep up with the news. Of course my first thought was to contact you, but I didn't know where you'd gotten to, did I?"

"There is a reason," said Lupin quietly, leaning forward to place his weight on his elbows. Harry shot him a look.

"I'm listening," said Sirius with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

"I've had something I've needed to tell you for a long time," said Lupin, glancing down as he clawed a hand through his hair. Upon seeing this, Sirius squinted closely at him, a feeling of familiarity ticking in his mind. Without really thinking about it, his gaze turned toward Harry who so resembled his late father. Odd, he'd never noticed Moony with that habit…

Lupin seemed to stiffen and decided it would be best to get all other business out of the way first. "I think first we should let you in on what's been going on here. Harry, I'll let you start."

Harry shared a slight nod with his father, and Sirius felt himself getting angry at the cloak and dagger game his godson and Remus seemed to be playing. "I don' t know what the bloody hell's going on here, but one of you had better tell me something, now."

Harry turned to his godfather and instantly affected a relaxed posture. "Sorry Sirius. Things have been strange for a while. Believe it or not, it goes all the way back to this past summer at the Dursley's. Started rather oddly with a nightmare…"

And for the next couple of hours, Harry explained everything that had happened to him, Hermione and Ron, from the day he met them in Diagon Alley up to last night, when they'd been able, with the help of the sorting hat's song from fifth year, to figure out some of the cryptic message Trelawny had divined. Lupin interjected some when he could, from when he'd gotten there, to when he was able to add insight, being careful for the moment to leave out certain things. And the thick tension in the room dwindled to a slight unease for the time being.

"So, I reckon Trelawny's not quite the batty old crackpot we always took her for," said Sirius in all earnestness.

"Seems that way," said Remus as he massaged his temples.

"But about the old prediction she made involving you and Voldemort," said Sirius as he turned toward Harry and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Harry, I want you to know, I don't give a damn if Merlin himself comes back and tells you to face him alone. It's never going to happen, you hear me?. You will never be alone in your fight with him. Remus and I, along with the rest of the Order member will be right along side you, fighting to the end."

Harry paused for a moment, the heavy burden sinking its claws into his flesh with an icy numbness once more. "I know that's what you'd like to happen; but Sirius, in reality, I think it'll turn out exactly as Trelawny said."

"We decide the future Harry, not the other way round," said Sirius, stubbornly setting his jaw. James recognised the expression on his face and knew it would do no good for Harry to further argue with him.

To Harry's surprise, although he shouldn't have been, James agreed with Sirius. "He's right. You won't be alone Harry. Neither of us would ever let you, and for that matter, I don't believe Ron or Hermione would ever permit it, either. Do you?"

Harry clasped his hands in front of him and chose not to answer. The question had never been would there be those out there willing to sacrifice for him. The question had been, when it came down to it, would he allow them too? Harry had been grappling with the same torturous thought night after night in his nightmares. He would wake, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he was sure it would soon wake Hermione, nestled so close to him. He could still see them in his mind's eye even now, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, his father, all laid out on the ground before a grinning Voldemort, eyes dead and unseeing, but plastered on Harry all the same. And the forgiveness he would read in their expressions…We would do it all over again for you in a second, Harry… But in the mirror of his mind, accusation and hatred would stare back at him forever.

"Harry," repeated Sirius, louder this time. Harry's attention snapped back to the present.

"You all right, son?" Lupin, concerned for him, had barely noted what he'd just said. Instantly, Harry shot him a panicked look, and his father realised what he'd done. jealous

Sirius looked more angry that he did confused and turned a resentful gaze on Lupin. "And when exactly, did you start calling him that?"

Harry felt the blood draining from his face, and could see that his father was equally as pale. But the gaze James shot him translated in his mind immediately. It's time he knows… And Harry nodded to his father, watching him slowly take a seat and turn his attention back to his old friend.

Sirius' gaze shot between Lupin and Harry, and he suddenly, angrily slammed a fist down onto the table. "All right. Just what the bloody hell is going on? I've let the secret glances and the strange behaviour go on all night! It's obvious you've been keeping something from me and I want the right truth now, damn it!"

"Calm down Sirius," said Lupin quietly, his gaze directed at the tabletop as he folded his hands in front of him. "I've been planning on telling you all along as I said before. I just wanted you to understand what's been going on round here first."

"And I appreciate it," replied Sirius impatiently, fixing the other two with a piercing stare. "But now I want to know what the bloody hell's got you two acting so strange. Let's hear it."

He looked from Remus to Harry, and the expressions of dread on their faces did nothing to alleviate the already growing panic fluttering in his chest. Remus, for his part, looked absolutely terrible; his eyes red and swimming with tears. And Harry looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Lupin spoke up. "I…I don't really know of a way to explain it to you, except to try telling you the same way I told Harry. What happened that night should never have occurred in the first place, but on retrospect, I don't imagine anything would've changed…"

Sirius' flustered gaze drifted to Harry who had slumped dejectedly in his seat, utterly silent except for the deep breaths he seemed to be taking. The young man seemed unable to meet his eyes. He turned back to Lupin.

"What night? What're you on about, mate?"

Lupin swallowed harshly and his voice broke as he continued. "The night Voldemort attacked. The night Lily and J…James were killed."

Sirius eyed him sharply. "Wh…I don't understand. Moony, we've been through this thousands of times since then…"

"Let me finish," Lupin croaked out.

Sirius saw Harry hadn't moved an inch, and he felt a cold dread building in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here…something was very wrong… What don't I know…What…

"Sirius…on the n..night…a few hours before Voldemort attacked James and Lily, Re…I was there in Godric's hollow…at the cottage with them."

Sirius glared openly at him, clearly in shock. "What'd you mean you were there!? That doesn't make any bloody sense! If you were there how in the hell did you survive!? And WHY THE HELL AM I JUST HEARING OF THIS!? This doesn't make sense…this doesn't make a bit of bloody sense…" He stood and began pacing the floor, once again noticing that Harry continued to stare blankly at the table in front of him.

Lupin went on, his grief-stricken voice taking on an almost monotone quality, as if he'd been preparing the speech for years… "Rem…James and…We'd been having a discussion on how we both felt Wormtail had been acting suspicious. James felt that he wanted to confront him…"

"James wanted to confront him!?" said Sirius whirling around to stare at Lupin. "I didn't even know he'd had time to suspect him before Voldemort attacked."

Lupin nodded his head jerkily. "He did. Re…I..didn't want James going off to find him, but…but he bloody insisted. I guess in retrospect it made sense of course. Since I wasn't Lily and James' secret keeper, I couldn't really question Peter on it, could I?"

Sirius sat down slowly, absorbed again, as he had been so many times before, in the details of the night Lily and James Potter died. A fresh wave of pain rose in him sharper than it had in a very long time, and he felt as if the scab was being peeled back from an old wound that had even as of yet not properly healed.

He watched Remus face contort with grief the same as it had so many times before on the same subject, but this time, something was different…something in the way he looked; his face, the way he held himself…

Something nagged at the back recesses of Sirius Black's mind, something that seemed long forgotten, but at the same time, just recently misplaced in his mind, as if the answer was just on the tip of his tongue, ready to spring back to remembrance at any second…

"So…" continued Lupin tremulously, now more shaken than Sirius had ever seen him. "You know…remember how stubborn James was to a bloody fault."

Sirius nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "He was that."

"I couldn't dissuade him, no matter how hard I tried. James decided then and there, that he was the only one to confront Peter."

Sirius frowned. "But how could James have confronted Peter with his own suspicions? Besides that fact, Prongs was never very sympathetic to Peter, was he? How in the hell did he think he was going to get anything from him?"

Lupin turned haunted eyes to his friend, eyes that could've spoken volumes without a single word. "He didn't…that's why he chose Remus."

Sirius set his jaw and stared at Remus Lupin as if he were completely cracked. "You've bloody lost me."

"W…we…we decided the only way to get Peter to open up, was to have James confront Peter…as Remus."

Sirius stiffened, his heart for some reason now jack-hammering against his chest, leaving him breathless. He felt himself leaning away from Lupin; the nagging in his brain now practically screaming at him to remember…remember something…

Lupin gripped the table as the weight of his final confession dropped from his shoulders, and simultaneously sent a shock wave of fear rippling down his body. It was too late to take it back now, and even if he could, he wouldn't. He owed the truth to Sirius, and now that he was finally able to give it to him, he wasn't going to slink away from it. He felt Harry's eyes now boring into him, and somehow found the strength to continue.

"James and Remus decided to perform a switching spell, Padfoot. But while Ja…J…I was gone,," he finally spat out, "Voldemort attacked."

Sirius stood and began to back away from the table, clutching his wand, suddenly terrified of the tears that were streaming down Remus Lupin's face…a face that suddenly seemed wrong, out of place…

"Remus and Lily died that night, Sirius…my old friend. And when I returned, I found my son as the only survivor."

Harry stood shakily, prepared to move toward Sirius, but a look from James told him to stay where he was.

"Y…You're a liar," breathed Sirius hoarsely, backing toward the floo with his wand outstretched. "You're a bloody frickin' liar, and I can't for the life of me figure out why…"

He didn't even know what he was going to do with the wand, except for the immediate thought that the two people sitting in front of him weren't who they said they were. Perhaps they'd both taken a Polyjuice Potion, perhaps both Remus and Harry were lying somewhere around Hogwarts, attacked, dead…maybe horribly injured…

"Sirius," said Remus, moving just slightly toward him and holding up both hands to show he was defenceless. "Look at me, mate. Listen to me…Remember all the times you helped Lily and I sneak from the common room late at night, under Moony's prefect nose? Remember how you distracted Philomena Hirum, the pretty brunette prefect along with Remus in sixth year?"

"Anyone could know that," hissed Sirius almost hysterically, raising his wand to ward James from coming any further. "Anyone who went to school with us could've found that out…"

"What about my parents? Thaddeus and Augusta Potter…how they took you in that final time you ran away from your mum? How you and I were practically brothers from then on, do you remember Padfoot? Do you remember how we used to sneak out during the summers and catch the Knight Bus over to Moony's house, where he and Wormtail were waiting? How we four used to tromp about town till all hours of the night and sneak back in the window just in time?"

Sirius began vehemently shaking his head, his eyes wide and confused, and the colour seemed to be draining from his face. "Easy facts to find out…anyone…anyone who really wanted to could've found that out…"

"Sirius he's telling the truth," said Harry quietly. "Please believe him. I've come to accept it too."

"Shut up! Shut the hell up, both of you!" screamed Sirius, raising his wand toward them both. Harry instantly raised his hands as well. "Who are you!?" hissed Sirius. "I don't know why the bloody hell you'd want to do something like this…"

"This isn't a prank," said James quietly.

"I'LL SAY IT BLOODY WELL ISN'T!" bellowed Sirius dangerously, raising his wand at both James and Harry's eye level. "Now, either you start telling the truth, or I'll stun the both of you and force veritaserum down your throats…"

Lupin raised his hands and made as if to move forward once again.

"If you don't want to be thrown across this room and slammed into a wall, I suggest you keep still," growled Sirius menacingly.

Lupin slowed his movements dramatically. "Wait Sirius, just listen to me. There's one time I can tell you, no one else could possibly know. Do you remember, the night we decided to let Peter be secret keeper rather than you? We had to obliviate the information from your mind so you'd never be forced to tell anyone what you knew. Do you remember what we did after, though Padfoot? So that we'd always have a permanent reminder of our friendship? Of the fact that I would still trust you with my life, and the life of my family?"

Sirius blinked rapidly at the two before him.

"We cut our hands, remember mate? We cut our hands and shook on it. Brothers by friendship, brothers by fortune, brothers by blood…Even though this body doesn't bear the scar of that night, I still remember. I know you do as well."

Sirius felt his knees buckling under him and grabbed at the mantle for support. He turned his right hand over to examine the faded old scar, and the blurred pictures behind it suddenly came into focus. It was then that he was finally able to study the faces up close. Pictures of James and Lily, their wedding…James, Lily and baby Harry…intimate moments of their short lives together; pictures only James Potter would have…

Remus nodded sadly to him when Sirius turned stunned, overwhelmed eyes back toward him. "Happier times, weren't they mate?"

"He's telling the truth," said Harry quietly, his eyes swimming with tears. "I wasn't there for all of that, I know. But Dumbledore'll confirm it for you, Sirius."

Sirius just continued to shake his head, feeling as if he was trapped in some nightmare he couldn't wake from, as if every moment of the past sixteen years were some horrible dream as well, that he might suddenly wake from it at any moment and have to face the fact that those past sixteen years had never really happened at all…

"Let me do something for you," said James suddenly as a thought hit him. "Let me revisit all those times on you, that you almost had me figured out. Let me help you remember all those times I've had to make you forget."

"Wh…what'd you…wh..how…" asked Sirius shakily, eyeing Remus as if he saw him now only through some sort of opaque glass, something that blurred him from reality…

"It's a simple recanting spell," said James reassuredly as he made for his wand. He picked it up, and then set it back down again in front of Sirius. "You see? You can have me in an instant if I'm up to no good."

Sirius merely stared from him to Harry and continued to hold his wand on them both. Something in his mind, the same something that had been nagging at the back of his brain was now telling him to let it happen. Let Remus do it…let him help you remember what it is you've forgotten…what you've possibly been made to forget…

And James raised his wand. "Commemini Oblivium."

Blue energy flowed forth from James Potter's wand, and suddenly, snatches of countless blank areas of Sirius Black's memory began to fill with images. Minutes of his life that had been unaccounted for suddenly rushed back into his thoughts like the pounding of ocean waves, one after the other, and Harry, from the other side of the room could almost see the recognition forming in Sirius' eyes.

Flashes filled the small voids of his memory; a laugh that seemed out of place, countless gestures that seemed all too familiar on the wrong person. Careless bits of knowledge accidentally given, information that shouldn't have been known, the way Remus rode his broom, unlike the careful steady Lupin Sirius knew, and all too similar to the recklessness of James Potter. Simple conversations that seemed to easy and carefree; too familiar; too unlike the serious Remus of old…and suddenly, a time when Sirius had almost confronted Remus with the truth…the truth he'd found staring him in the face as he'd picked up and accidentally read the first of a series of lines from Lupin's personal journal…

'I don't know how long I can keep up the charade. It kills me not to tell him who I am; kills me every day I think of how I've had to hand my son's emotional well-being over to him, though there's no one else I trust as fully as Padfoot…'

Sirius felt as if he were falling, though he still felt his feet under him. "Oh my god…oh god…J..James…oh my god…"

His face had gone solid white, and alarmed, both James and Harry began to rush forward as one, but Sirius held up both of his hands. "N..no…"

He stumbled backward, ducked into the hearth and ripped up the pot on the floor beside him, grabbing a handful of green powder and tossing the rest aside onto the floor.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London!" He cried out, and was gone in a flash of green fire.

Suddenly, the room was thrown into silence once again, and James stood lifelessly with Harry beside him, his arms hanging uselessly at his side. He was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, vaguely aware that his son now stood away from him, one hand jammed into the pocket of his robes, the other covering his eyes, tears streaming over the knuckles.

James summoned the strength to continue breathing and sat himself miserably down in a chair. "My god…" he rasped out quietly to himself. "Look what I've done to everyone I love…look what I've done…"

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A/N: Ok readers. I truly hope I've done justice to how the characters would feel in this situation. I'm trying to stay as true to them as possible, while at the same time, conveying to you how they're thinking and feeling. I hope for all of you that I've done it right. I really enjoy your feedback, so if you have a second, please leave me a little note! Thank you thank you thank you to all the very faithful wonderful (and talented as well!) people who take time to read and review. You make my day!!!! Next chapter out very soon…

26. Chapter 26: An Invitation

Chapter 26: An Invitation

December came to the Scottish highlands blustery and bitingly frigid, the howling wind and whirling snow carrying an icy chill that numbed anyone caught in it to the bone. The purplish mountains that served to outline the horizon of Hogwarts were now topped with snowfall, and the grounds outside were a thick blanket of powdery white, with the trees, looking strangely skeletal for lack of leaves, bowing heavily under piles of snow. The castles eaves, along with Hagrid's hut for that matter, dripped with long thick icicles that glistened in what little sunlight peeked out during the day, but the sky had mostly decided now to colour itself in only two ways; grey for the daytime and grey-black for night.

Since their conversation with Sirius some three weeks prior, neither Harry nor his father had been able to contact him. They'd figured out, after a week or more of trying to floo him that Sirius had somehow charmed his fireplace to disconnect from James' floo only, since both Harry and his father assumed he was still in contact with Dumbledore. He would need to be, if only to receive news from the outside world.

It was for this reason that Harry and James, along with Ron and Hermione, were headed down the cold castle hallways at that very moment to Dumbledore's office on a dull grey, freezing Friday afternoon. They'd finished Advanced DADA a couple of hours ago, with Harry finishing fencing after, and had decided to finally seek out the Headmaster's advice; though Harry and his father rather thought to themselves that their reasoning had more to do with the fact that Dumbledore was the only one who now knew of Sirius well-being.

"D'you think he's in?" asked Ron as they faced the two stone gargoyles that hid Dumbledore's office from the rest of the castle.

"Don’t see why not," said Lupin as he absently ran his hands over his arms. "For the love of Godric I wish there was some way to keep the entire castle warm."

Harry nodded his agreement and wrapped his arm tighter around a shivering Hermione. "Sherbet Lemon."

The ugly statues hopped out of the way to both sides and a door ground opened to reveal a twisted staircase, ascending slowly with the grating sound of stone against stone. The four jumped on one after the other and rode the steps to the top, where they stepped into a decidedly warmer and more inviting area.

Dumbledore's office had always been for Hermione particularly, an area of fascination. It was circular, with some walls filled from top to bottom with nothing but enormous curved bookshelves that reached toward the ceiling. As she passed the sorting hat she greeted it politely.

The dozens of trinkets fascinated Ron; all sorts of delicate silver baubles and gadgets lined polished tables strewn here and there along the deep red carpeting. The portraits of long dead Headmasters of old pretended to be sleeping, as always, though Harry swore he saw one peek at them from the slit of an eye and then close it again quickly, affecting a rather loud snore after.

One step up took them to the slightly higher second level where Dumbledore's desk sat gleaming a dark finished wood in the middle of the floor. It was covered in scrolls and parchments, devices and instruments, but no Headmaster. Fawkes perched regally on a tall stand by the staircase leading toward the uppermost floor, and Harry thought to himself that he was looking rather as if it was coming time for him to burn again.

Four chairs suddenly apparated with a *pop* in front of the Headmaster's desk causing Hermione to squeal unexpectedly. Lupin looked up to discover Dumbledore in dark purple robes with silvery moons and stars on them, peering over the top floor railing at them through his half-moon glasses, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Lupin favoured him with a half smile. "Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled and began to descend the staircase slowly owing to his age, finally coming to stand before them. "After all this time I think it safe by now for you to call me Albus, James. Have a seat, please." He gestured politely for the four to have a seat and rounded his desk to do the same.

"Er…Professor Dumbledore," began Harry a little hesitantly. "We wanted to…discuss something with you, Professor Lupin and I. Though we want it made clear we're not trying to get information from you you're not at liberty to give us…"

Dumbledore held up a hand and favoured Harry with a light smile. "Say no more, Harry. I'm right in assuming this is about Sirius?"

So Lupin had been keeping the Headmaster informed, Harry thought to himself. He wondered secretly what else his father had chosen to share with him.

Harry nodded sadly in answer to his question. "Yes sir."

"He hasn't tried to contact either of us since the night I told him who I really am," said Lupin in a small, tired voice. "Not that I blame him, mind you. But Harry and I've tried to contact him ourselves, and he's cut us off from his floo network. We're assuming he's still in contact with you?"

Dumbledore nodded from behind steepled fingers. "He is. Though I'm sure you know he wouldn't be confiding in me on something this personal. Our conversations consist of Ministry news and the Daily Prophet, nothing more… He's had quite a shock, you know. Might take him quite a bit of time to come to terms with it."

"I'm sure," answered Lupin matter-of-factly. "And I completely understand it. I never considered he'd pour his heart out to you. It's just, well…Ms. Granger here has had an idea she thought might help and I feel she may have something, though we'll need the use of your floo to do it since you're the only one who can reach him."

Dumbledore, looking slightly surprised even for him, turned his attention toward Hermione, who shifted a bit nervously in her chair.

"I thought, well… I thought we might invite Sirius to spend the holidays here with us in the castle," began Hermione. "I figured he might be able to come to terms with things more easily when surrounded by his friends…While still being with Professor Lu…er, Mr. Potter, he wouldn't yet have to face the awkwardness of having to meet with him alone."

"You can call me James out of the classroom, Hermione." Said Lupin with a perfunctory smile. Hermione nodded gratefully, and Harry blinked hard once. The sound of his father's first name coming from Hermione would be a bit odd for him to hear.

Dumbledore appeared to be considering what Hermione had said and the four waited silently for his response.

"You've all decided to spend the holidays here at Hogwarts, then?" asked the Headmaster.

"Well, I'm not. Mum insists we all spend Christmas together…especially since…well..since Percy won't be joining us." Ron ended the sentence with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "Normally it'd be Harry too, and Sirius would be more than welcome as far as Mum is concerned I'm sure, but all of the Weasley's on top of everyone else would be too much for Sirius to handle right now, I think."

"I would tend to agree with you on that," said Dumbledore, a wry smile twisting the very corners of his mouth.

"So it'd be just myself, Hermione, Sirius…and dad," said Harry, forcing out the last word in a small voice. Lupin shot him a surprised glance which Harry ignored. "He'd probably want to stay in the Gryffindor common room; have a bit of privacy. And from looking over the holiday rosters, Hermione and I are the only students who're staying over the holidays this year. No one should find out."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes taking a far-off look as he thought over the plan and the implications it might have. If Sirius were seen by anyone other than himself or the ones in this room, the consequences could be very dire indeed, yet… he needed somehow to be able to come to terms with the news he'd just received. Dumbledore could think of no better and less troubling of a situation for Sirius than to have him over for the holidays. He could floo home whenever he wished, no pressures to right things straight away, and Ms. Granger was right in saying that the situation would be much less threatening to him with others around to lessen the awkwardness, and to soften the blow…

"I'll permit it," said Dumbledore amidst a group of suddenly relieved faces, but continued with a very stern voice that sounded as if he thought the situation would normally be against his better judgement. "However, I want it made absolutely clear Sirius is to stay within the walls of this school. I'll inform Severus and Minerva of his coming as they're the only other professors staying over, but I can't stress enough what could happen should Sirius be somehow found out. Not only would he have every Ministry-loyal Auror and hitwizard directly after him, but the school would come under immediate attack from the Ministry. Fudge would take this as an opportunity to have me ousted and the school taken over. I'm trusting all of you to keep this in mind."

Lupin nodded gravely. "I understand the implications Albus. You can be certain we'll take every precaution."

"It'll be good for Sirius to get out from Grimmauld Place for a while," Harry stated, almost more to himself than anyone else.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "He can't be very happy cooped up in the old dark estate alone with no one round to keep him company…"

"Especially during the holidays," finished Hermione for him. "We'll have to work hard at making him feel comfortable and welcome. It'll probably be really awkward at first, but hopefully he'll come round to talking with…everyone. Though it might just be Harry and I for a while."

Lupin nodded sadly at this, and Dumbledore eyed him with a look of understanding. "You did what you had to do James," he said quietly. "You kept your identity hidden to keep Harry and Sirius safe and I think once he understands it, Sirius won't be able to fault you for it. It may take him quite a while to come to terms with the shock, but once he does, I can't imagine he'll be anything but happy to have his closest friend back… no matter the circumstances."

Harry said nothing during this exchange, but somehow in his own mind, he wasn't so sure Dumbledore understood how Sirius must feel. It would take longer than one shared holiday for him to suddenly feel right with everything. After all, Harry was still sorting through things in his own mind, and he couldn't imagine, with Sirius having even more to deal with what with having to grieve for the death of a friend he hadn't even known was dead, that he would come round so quickly. Besides the fact, Sirius would probably have the same feelings of confusion and betrayal Harry had been battling for some odd three months now.

Dumbledore watched the four leave his office and could tell just from the look on Harry's face that he doubted what the Headmaster had just said. But Harry didn't know that the subject wasn't one Dumbledore was just pretending to understand. In fact, it was something he dealt with everyday…something he held closely guarded and wrapped in his own shroud of secrecy. Something, the Headmaster thought as he watched Harry exit, laying his head heavily in his hands, he wished he could unburden himself of with every waking moment…

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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.

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The day of the Yule Ball approached quickly, and as with the All Hallows Eve bash, Hermione and Ginny had decided to dress together. But with Ginny's insistence that it would be great fun, Hermione had finally conceded to dress with all of the other girls in Gryffindor up in their dorms. As of this particular moment she had come to regret it.

Lavender was bemoaning the fact that she had no earrings to go with her gown, a crimson dress so covered in lace and frills that she looked as if she were headed to some rich society brothel. Both Ginny and Hermione thought it was rather too much, but Lavender had balked at the idea of charming it back a little. Parvarti, in a silk amethyst gown that trailed the floor, was currently arguing with Lavender that she needed the earrings she was wearing and that she would have to borrow some one else's. Other girls in the room, girls from Ginny's year that Hermione barely knew were whining amongst themselves as well. I'm too fat…my dress is ugly…I didn't get who I wanted to take me to the ball…my hair looks awful…I have no jewellery…etc.

Hermione, who had never grown up with other girls, and was now used to the peace and quiet of her and Harry's own rooms, began to grow annoyed at the whining and confusion of too many bodies and voices in one space. Clothes and makeup were strewn everywhere, things were being borrowed and passed around and subsequently lost amid the mess, and girls were bickering and complaining, frantically trying to get ready as they were sure their dates were downstairs waiting. Hermione thought to herself as Ginny helped zip up the back of her dress that she would never do anything like this again. The disorganisation and barely controlled chaos was beginning to drive her mad.

She turned, along with Ginny so that both could take in their reflections in the double wide mirror lining one wall of the girls dorms, and both gasped at their images.

Ginny's jade green dress had straps that fell off the shoulders, and a tight bodice that showed just the right amount of cleavage. The full skirt trailed the floor, and tiny emerald coloured gems were sown all along the length of it, getting closer and closer together as they reached the floor. Her shoes were the same colour silky jade, with around three inches of heel. The robe she wore over it was the palest shade of green she had ever seen, almost white, with shimmery trimming round the edges. Her thick red hair had been pulled into an elegant uptwist, and her lips and cheeks were tinged with red, with a hint of mascara on her lashes and a sweep of brown shadow over her eyelids. She wore tiny emerald earrings to top it off, and a thin gold chain with one green gem clasped in the middle. (Silver and green would've been too Slytherin like, Ginny had explained earlier with much sarcasm).

"I still can't believe Draco just handed me a bag of galleons and told me to pick out whatever I fancied," breathed Ginny as she twirled in the mirror. "Apparently he's not afraid at anyone seeing us at dances together, just together at everyday things… I reckon being someone's date to the Yule Ball doesn't make it appear as if you're actually dating in his eyes. Though I hope that's not what's going through his mind."

Hermione nodded her agreement, though she was half listening. Harry had done the same for her as Malfoy had done for Ginny as they had perused Hogsmeade with the rest of the fifth through seventh year students last week, although she'd had a hard time accepting it. It seemed a frivolous thing to do to spend loads of money on a gown and shoes to be worn only once, but Harry had insisted, and she had decided on the dress she'd seen advertised in the catalogue of Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions.

The sky blue of the dress slowly faded into a deeper blue as it swept the floor, and the snowflakes that seemed to be falling down the dress as if from the sky, sparkled and gleamed as if made from white crystal. Her shoes, a clear sort of substance charmed the darker blue colour, were heels around two inches high, and Ginny had helped charm very tiny glimmering snowflakes into her hair, which she'd decided to wear down and only pulled back slightly from her face. She wore the bare minimum of makeup and jewellery as usual, but a sweep of white shadow across her lids, a bit of mascara, and some barely pink gloss added to her lips gave just the right touch, along with a delicate silver chain with a small string of sapphires. Ginny smiled at her.

"You look like a princess. Harry'll drop dead when he claps eyes on you," she beamed happily as she helped Hermione into the shimmery white robe lying on the bed behind her.

Hermione's jaw continued to hang open. "I've never owned anything like this in my whole life."

"Neither have I," agreed Ginny as she twirled one last time in front of the mirror. "And I doubt I ever will again. But Carpe Diem I say, right?"

Hermione smirked at her and stepped out of the way of one frantic sixth year who'd misplaced a long white glove. "Right. Let's get then. Is Malfoy meeting you there?"

Ginny sighed wearily as they walked from the busy room and headed toward the stairs. "Yes. I think he's worried some of his housemates will start asking questions like they did after he came and picked me up from your and Harry's common room for the All Hallows Eve party. He hasn't said so, but I get the feeling he really doesn't want them assuming anything."

Hermione stopped midway down the stairs and turned to eye Ginny gravely. "Look Gin. I really don't think you should put up with that. You could do so much better. Don't let Malfoy treat you less than what you're worth."

"I don't intend to, Hermione," replied Ginny patiently. "I think something else is going on I can't see. I'm not going to let it go on for much longer. You can rest assured, if I think for one minute it's because he's ashamed of me, he'll have my Comet Two Sixty jammed so far up his arse he won't be able to see straight. So no worries, all right?"

Hermione grinned and laughed at the younger girl despite her misgivings and nodded, deciding for the moment to let the matter rest. Ginny was able to take care of herself; she'd shown herself more than capable on several occasions thus far. And in the end it would be up to her how she allowed herself to be treated.

As the two girls entered the common room, Ginny gave Hermione a wink and made her way toward the portrait door and out to head toward the Great Hall.

The common room looked like some sort of formal waiting area, littered with Gryffindor males dressed to the nines in suits and dress robes. Some were waiting patiently for their dates, others were looking quite grumpy as they yanked frustratedly on ties and jackets, and still others were looking quite green and sweaty as they fidgeted and paced, stealing nervous glances toward the staircase leading toward the girls dorms. Every now and then some girl would emerge and one boy was reprieved, with the rest sighing and settling back again to wait.

Hermione spied Harry and Ron seated in chairs near the fire. Both were sprawled out haphazardly, arms and legs thrown where ever they'd decided to land, jackets thrown behind them on the backs of the chairs and ties loosened. Both looked like they felt overdressed and under-appreciated.

She fought the urge to laugh out loud at them and rounded the back of Harry's chair. Even sitting carelessly in front of the hearth, tie hanging loosely round his neck, white button down shirt undone a bit for comfort, and black slacks now slightly wrinkled, Hermione found herself staring at his long, fit form. His black hair was still untamed and messy, and his overly green eyes behind the thin lenses seemed glossy from staring into the flames for too long, but he looked gorgeous to her. He hadn't seemed to notice she'd walked almost in front of him and it took Hermione's voice to snap him from his stupor.

She rapped lightly on the top of his skull with her knuckles, standing slightly behind his chair. "Harry, love…you still in there?"

Harry sat up, twisted round quickly, and found that he wasn't the only one in the room now staring open-mouthed at his date. A few whistles sounded behind him and he stood and gave the others one of his best 'hands off' scowls before returning his attention back to Hermione.

"Hermione…you look absolutely…I mean, just…amazing! Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts, but gods you look smashing…Beautiful, really."

Hermione had the good grace to blush, before giving Harry's now tall, standing form a once over. How could a seventeen year old manage to make standing in a tuxedo look roguishly sexy? Wasn't he supposed to come off as some sort of awkward? As not looking quite comfortable? And yet Harry stood, his weight slightly more on one foot than the other and slung his jacket over his back winking at her. She felt her knees begin to knock. He still had quite little idea the effect he had on her, damn it…

Ron stood and gave her a peck on the cheek, managing to look quite handsome himself. He'd tamed his hair much more effectively than Harry had. "You do look wonderful, 'Mione… Any idea when my date's coming down? For the love of Godric, I swear I've been waiting for an hour now."

Hermione laughed at him. "She was almost dressed when Ginny and I left. Shouldn't be too much longer."

Ron scanned the room over Hermione's head. "Ginny? Where is she, then?"

"Left a few minutes ago," said Harry. "Walked right past you. Didn't you see her?"

"Obviously not. Did she leave with the ferret then?" asked Ron darkly. "Can't see how I missed that."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Ginny and he decided to meet there…Now hang on before you go off…"

"WHAT!?" barked Ron so loudly that Seamus and Dean turned to stare at them. "You mean he didn't have the frickin' decency to come get her from here!?"

"Calm down Ron!" hissed Hermione frustratedly. "Ginny's got a good head on her shoulders. She knows what she's doing…"

"So do I," Ron seethed dangerously as he whipped his wand from his robes and proceeded to stomp towards the portrait door.

"Ron hang on," said Harry exasperatedly, grabbing onto his arm. Ron stopped but whirled to give Harry a very dirty scowl. "You can't just go off trying to blast Malfoy when things don't suit you between them! Ginny's got to decide things for herself."

"Easy for you to say, Harry. That's not your sister being treated like shit out there, is it!?"

Harry frowned slightly at him. "She's as good as, mate. And you know it."

Ron continued to scowl at him, breathing heavily, but finally dropped his arm. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry Harry. But I don't like Ginny being treated like that. She deserves more."

"She knows how it seems Ron," said Hermione placing a hand on his arm. "But she's got a good handle on things. She won't let herself be treated wrong. You know that."

Ron smirked. "Yeah I do, I guess."

The Great Hall was decorated to resemble a sort of ballroom of old, with large floating candle chandeliers hanging from the bewitched ceiling, now glowing with a fuzzy moon, very dark grey clouds, and a whirlwind of snowflurries. Great Christmas trees, once again decorated with live fairies glowing different pastel colours, stood in every corner. Great long silvery streamers hung from the walls, icicles hung magically from the large windowsills, and live snowmen greeted students as they came in.

The impossibly long tables used as house tables for the Hall, now lined the walls, covered in refreshments and pumpkin punch, being constantly fussed over by one or more house elves. Some of the earlier arriving couples were already dancing slowly to the WWN Dumbledore had charmed to sound throughout, and the professors who were dressed nicely themselves in festive looking robes were all on hand here and there, mingling with each other or manning tables as chaperones.

Ron greeted the snowman on his left gruffly, having already taken in the image of Ginny below, dancing with a distinctly stiff Draco Malfoy. Lavender pouted neatly beside him.

"Ron, just for tonight let's forget about your sister and have fun, just you and I."

Ron eyed her more harshly than he'd intended too. "She's my sister, Lav! I can't just forget about her! She's being used!"

"You don't know that," said Harry with Hermione from behind the two.

Ron turned to look at him. "I don't, do I!? How else do you explain the fact he wouldn't come get her from the common room tonight? Or the fact he doesn't want any of his mates knowing he fancies her!?"

Hermione instantly looked alarmed. "What?…How did you…I mean, I didn't tell…"

Ron rolled his eyes at her and then planted his gaze back on the couple below them. "Aw come off it, 'Mione. I watch them closer than anyone else here, don't I?"

"I'm surprised you haven't turned him into a newt by now then," said Harry with a frown.

"It's not for lack of wanting too," said Ron begrudgingly. "But if I did Ginny'd never speak to me again. I do have to let her handle it…for now."

Ron's last words left the distinct feeling about him that he hadn't let go of it by a long shot, nevertheless, the four entered the 'ballroom' and immediately set to dancing and having fun. More and more couples joined them soon, and by the time eight o'clock rolled around, the hall was teeming with young formally dressed witches and wizards.

"…and the most gorgeous by far, Miss Hermione Granger," finished Harry, grinning as he twirled Hermione outward and then caught her back to himself.

Hermione beamed up at him. "You clean up well yourself there. And you're not half-biased, are you?"

"Not a bit," said Harry with a mock look of annoyance. "Completely impartial."

"Right."

Harry smirked at her in that charming, roguish way that made her heart turn over, and Hermione felt herself giving into him once again. He held her so close, the distinct aroma of wind and outdoors and everything feverishly Harry about him. His soft, full lips brushed hers and she intensified the kiss, tangling her fingers in the fine hair that swept his nape. She never could seem to get enough of him…

Gods she tasted like Elysian Fields, some sort of honeyed utopia he couldn't get enough of, even with all the times he'd fallen into her before. Harry felt the familiar drunken desire beginning to well up in him and decided to himself that he'd do better to just hold her for now, lest they end up in a full blown snog that embarrassed the hell out of everyone else.

He pulled back from her somewhat dizzily and turned his head slightly to see Ron, dancing closely with Lavender, leering at him and giving him a suggestive wink and thumbs up. He blushed a bit and turned back to Hermione.

"Er, love…much as I love kissing you…I don't think I'll be able to control myself if we keep on."

She followed his gaze and saw Ron waggling his tongue brazenly at them while Lavender did her best to admonish him. Hermione gave him her best 'sod off' glower and returned her attention back to Harry.

"It's all right. I feel the same. Can't help it if your devastatingly handsome now, can you?"

"And now who's biased?" said Harry with a surprised grin as he held her even closer.

"I resent the insinuation," said Hermione with a cock of one eyebrow. "I've always been an extremely unprejudiced judge of your overall…package."

Harry leered at her in much the same way Ron had and lowered his voice an octave. "My package? We still talking about the same thing, 'Mione?"

He'd expected her to punch him for the insinuation, but Hermione merely returned the look. "I mean that I personally think your outside is as beautiful as your inside. And as for your package…I haven't yet had the privilege of unwrapping it, have I?"

Harry's jaw dropped and he grinned at her. "You'll never stop surprising me, will you?"

Hermione looked pleased with herself as she let Harry dip her in a silly, overly-proper way.

"And I rather think that when the time comes, we'll be unwrapping presents together, don't you?" he whispered down into her ear. "I can't wait to see mine."

Hermione turned three shades of bright red as he lifted her back upright.

**********************************************************

From the other side of the ballroom, Ginny looked up at Draco as he swayed with her and caught a slideshow of indecipherable emotions crossing his face. He'd been stiff and almost awkward with her the whole night. Anytime one of his housemates passed by he made sure to hold her at arms length, and even acted at times as if he felt he would be glad when the whole thing was over. His attitude was beginning to grate on her, and Ginny felt, as Theodore Nott passed with his date, and Draco stopped looking at her to find one of the snack tables interesting, that she'd rather had enough.

"If you're having such a horrible time why'd you ask me in the first place?" She whispered angrily above the song that had just come on the WWN. The station had decided to play some of the older, more famous Muggle Christmas songs this year, and the American Bing Crosby's low voice flowed smooth as melted butter into the Great Hall.

*I'll be home for Christmas…You can plan on me…*

Malfoy blinked a couple of times before her words sank in. "What? What're you on about?"

"You!" said Ginny, setting her jaw. "All night long you've been distant and strange with me. 'Specially when one of your damn Slytherin friends pass by."

Draco pulled her to him closer and looked down at her fiercely. "They most certainly are not my friends, Red. You know that."

*Please have snow, and mistletoe…and presents 'neath the tree…*

Ginny sighed and put her arms round his shoulders. "Then why d'you care what they think?"

She felt Draco stiffen again but he brought a hand up to smooth a flaming red lock of hair back behind her ear that had fallen out of Ginny's upsweep. "I did tell you how smashing you look tonight, didn't I? Green is definitely your colour. You look like a jewel… Makes me want to wear you."

*Christmas Eve will find me…*

Ginny's eyes rounded at his obvious intimation but she decided she wouldn't be swayed off topic. "Mmmm…sort of like Harry's eyes, right?"

Draco's eyes flashed and he suddenly held her at arms length. "What? You got some thing for Scarhead? What's going on with you two!? One witch not enough for him!?"

Ginny smirked triumphantly. "Of course I don't have something for him, but I did just get you to stop play-acting now, didn't I? Now maybe you'll answer my question."

Draco scowled at her. "Not very nice of you, Red."

"No, it wasn't," said Ginny. "Now answer my question."

*Where the love light gleams…I'll be home for Christmas…*

"Which one was that?" asked Draco innocently as he twirled her outward and then brought her back in.

Ginny gritted her teeth in aggravation. "The one where I asked you why you care what your classmates think of you and I?…if you can remember that far back…"

Malfoy smiled down at her. He loved when she got feisty with him. "What makes you think I do?"

He really was infuriating her now, and Ginny was on the verge of leaving him alone on the floor. She'd finally had enough. "Oh, I dunno… Maybe it's the fact that whenever one of them comes near it's as if you feel absolutely nothing for me…or maybe its that sometimes you actually start a fight with me so that it'll appear as if it's just another Weasley-Malfoy row going on…or it could be that you won't hold my hand or kiss me anywhere near a Slytherin…"

Ginny's voice had begun to raise in pitch at the last sentence and Draco began to look alarmed. He stopped dancing at once and gripped her by the top of her arms. "Not so loud! You want the whole school hearing you!? Be quiet for god's sake!"

*If only in my dreams…*

Ginny stopped, breathing hard, eyes flaming with fury and hurt and wrenched her arms away from him. She stared hard at him for a few moments and then turned and began striding purposefully out from the Hall, obviously sure that he was going to follow. He did.

When they'd gotten to the great oak double doors of the castle and wrenched them apart, Ginny met him at the bottom of the steps, her eyes shining with angry tears.

"All right." Her voice was very steady, but low pitched and whispery as if she couldn't trust herself to use it fully. "You'll tell me what's going on right now, or we're through. You hear me?"

Draco gave her his best scowl. "I don't take well to ultimatums, Red."

*Christmas Eve will find me…* Drifted out muffled from inside the castle.

"That's too bad," said Ginny, enunciating every word clearly. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know NOW."

Malfoy stared at her for a few moments, those infuriatingly unreadable emotions crossing over his face again. He swallowed roughly.

Ginny cleared her throat to keep her voice steady and spoke quietly. "Are you ashamed of me?"

Draco looked confused. "Ashamed…"

"Of me, yes," said Ginny clearly. "…Am I too poor for you? Is that it? Not high-class enough for a Malfoy?"

"What!?" said Draco, angrily. "That what kind of wizard you think I am, Weasley? Equating me with my father now, are you!?"

*Where the love light gleams…*

"What other explanation have you given me!?" asked Ginny hotly. "I don’t know what to think anymore! I've let it go for too long and now I want the truth!"

Draco screwed up his face and hesitated. He was going to hate himself in the morning. "Truth is that I have my reasons…and that's all you need to know for now."

Ginny backed from him and crossed her arms over her chest, instantly telling him she was cutting herself off from him. That had done it. He'd lost her now and he knew it.

"You know me better than that by now, I think." Ginny's breathing became more laboured and she spoke dangerously low. "You don't seriously think I'm all right with that, do you?"

*I'll be home for Christmas…*

Malfoy hesitated again. He knew she expected answers from him, but they were answers he wasn't willing to give. The answers would be worse for her than what had brought on the questions. He knew his next words would drive her completely from him, but hadn't he known all along it wouldn't last? He'd known. Trying to mix a Weasley with a Malfoy was like trying to successfully merge oil and water. It was never going to happen.

He answered her last question steadily. "No…I don't."

Ginny looked a bit stunned and stood, shifting uncomfortably, blinking quietly as if willing her eyes to keep from betraying her with tears. She just continued to stare at him until he felt almost burned by her gaze and could no longer meet it. He stared at the ground, hating life, hating himself, most of all, hating his last name…

*If only in my dreams…*

Then Ginny gave off a very soft derisive laugh at herself and began to sweep past him back up the steps and into the castle. He heard her mumble through sobs as she passed.

"What was I thinking…"

The huge oak door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, and Draco suddenly began to notice the snowflakes falling over him. The wind whistled round the corners of the castle, a thin layer of ice covering the lake shone dully to him as the moonshine hit it, and he watched apathetically as the wind began to blow layers of snow from the heavy bows of the surrounding trees. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his robes, and as the icy wind seeped through his robes and suit, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather clutched hold of his heart once again.

Alone again, Draco thought to himself. Just as I knew I would be.

*If only in my dreams.*

*****************************************************

Much later that night, after the ball had gone on for another two hours and ended, after Hermione had tried consoling a distraught Ginny who'd shown up to their common room at around midnight, and after Harry and Hermione had already changed back into their regular clothes, Harry finally sat with Hermione to compose a letter to Sirius. Christmas was only a week away now, and they knew the sooner they were able to ask him to join them, the longer he would have to get used to the idea of seeing them again.

Every sentence he wrote, Harry turned to eye Hermione for approval, and she suggested small changes here and there when she found it necessary.

They headed straight away down the dark cold hallways toward Dumbledore's office where they knew the Headmaster, himself a night owl, would still be awake. Dumbledore took the letter from them, bade them a good night, and promised them he'd floo it straight away to Sirius.

Fifteen minutes later in London, Sirius sat on his couch at Grimmauld Place in front of the hearth, still clutching the letter he'd received some ten minutes ago with shaky hands. He'd recognised the untidy scrawl his name was written in immediately. Harry.

Thinking to himself that it did him no good to prolong the inevitable, Sirius slit the envelope open and began to read with his heart thudding against his ribs.

Dear Sirius,

I hope all is well with you in London. I understand that what we told

You comes as quite a shock to you to say the least. Honestly, I've had a right time coming to terms with it myself as you can imagine. I understand more than anyone how you must feel. It's taken me a while to even be able to speak with James, but I know once you've heard him out you'll understand a bit more why he's done what he has.

Please don't shut us out, Sirius. You're still like a father to me, and no one will ever replace you for me. James knows that. But I need you both. You're both family and James and I love you more than you know. Please give him a chance to explain himself.

Hermione's had the idea that maybe you could come spend Christmas with us here at Hogwarts this year. It'd be just you, Hermione, James and I. I hate the thought of you being alone in Grimmauld Place over the holidays, and I know you hate it as well. You could floo home whenever it suited you if you felt you needed to. We've made it all right with Dumbledore so all we need is your response.

I would love my family to be with me on the holidays. As much as you, James and Hermione are all I have, I know James and I are all you have, Sirius. We both miss you. If you don't think you're able yet, I understand. Just please consider it, all right?

Hoping to hear from you soon,

Harry

***********************************************************************

A/N: Hey guys. I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out. I knew where I was trying to go but wasn't quite sure how I was getting there, you know? Anyway, after this things are going to begin heading downhill for everyone as far as the war is concerned, so be on the lookout for that. I dedicate this chapter to Claire, who owled me saying she was waiting patiently for the next chappie. Claire, you're the nicest evil fairy I know! ;0) Cheers! Bama ( P.S.- Don’t worry D/G fans).

27. Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

Chapter 27: Happy Christmas, Draco

The black steam billowing in great clouds from the smokestack of the Hogwarts Express mingled with the spinning snowfall as Harry, Hermione and Lupin stood together at a bustling Hogsmeade Station. Ron, Ginny and Lavender Brown, who had been invited to spend Christmas holidays with the Weasleys, were currently in the process of hauling their trolleys over to the baggage handlers who looked slightly overwhelmed with the luggage of over two hundred Hogwarts students, currently milling about and boarding the train in a mass of barely controlled madness. Although there were still noticeably less students this year, the workers managed to seem grumpy, despite the lesser work load.

Ron neared the three after leaving his luggage with a handler, breathing on his cold chapped hands and smirking at a shivering Hermione who was nearly wrapped invisible with Harry in his heavy black, winter robes. All he could see of her was a cold pink nose, a pair of large brown eyes, and a mop of corkscrew curls that Harry was having a hard time keeping the wind from blowing into his mouth.

"And here I thought 'Mione cared enough to see us off," deadpanned Ron as he glanced round Harry and Lupin. Ginny and Lavender trotted up beside him having dispensed of their loads as well. "Nice of her not to show, wasn't it?"

Ginny saw a pair of large brown eyes narrow at her brother from under Harry's chin and smiled. Lupin laughed and Harry chuckled, giving a slight 'oomph' as Hermione jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ron, you know I'm here you great prat," came Hermione's muffled voice. "Now come here you two so we can send you off proper."

Ron and Ginny neared and Hermione untangled herself from Harry and his robes long enough for the both of them and Lupin to hug the two goodbye, and bid Lavender a good holiday.

Hermione held Ginny close for a few moments and whispered in her ear. "Please try to have a happy Christmas Gin. You'll be with your wonderful family…all those other redheads that love you so much! Try thinking on that."

Ginny pulled back from her and gave a sad smile before answering her just as quietly. "And what would you say if the situation were reversed and it was Harry who'd broken with you?"

Hermione paused and tucked a strand of Ginny's thick red hair back behind her winter hat. "I'd tell me to sod off."

Ginny gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin and hugged Hermione again. "I know you're trying to help. Just knowing you're there to talk to is enough."

"You can owl me anytime while you and Ron are away, you know that."

Ginny nodded. "I know."

The shrill whistle from behind the six and the conductor's bellow of "All aboard!" told them the Express was moments away from beginning its journey.

Ron took Lavender's hand and nodded to Ginny, who seemed now to be staring morosely past him at something nearer the train.

"Well mates, Professor Lupin," said Ron backing towards the train and deciding in Lavender's presence to keep Harry's fathers' identity a secret. "I guess we'll be off. See you after holidays. Christmas won't be the same without you, Harry. Mum's already had a solid cry and we've not even got there yet without you."

Harry grinned fondly and called after him. "Give her a peck for me, mate! I'll most likely see her at graduation, I expect."

"Right!" called Ron with a grin as he ushered Ginny and Lavender ahead of him onto the train and hopped the first step toward the doorway. The attendant was motioning him inside a bit agitatedly as the train had already begun its first sluggish pull down the tracks. "See you soon! Give Padfoot a good thump from me! Bye 'Mione, wherever you've got to!"

Hermione knew he was referring to the fact that she was once again swimming in Harry's cloak with him, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She'd seen where Ginny had been looking a bit earlier as Ron had been saying his goodbyes; seen the tall, blonde-headed form of Draco Malfoy slumped dejectedly, peering unhappily back at her from the entrance of the train, his hands shoved into his pockets, breath billowing out in front of him smoky white in the cold. She'd also seen him turn away quickly and head through the entrance, most likely to find a compartment to hide in by himself; headed home for the holidays as well.

Hermione had seen Lavender follow her gaze and give her a quick searching glance, but she was sure Harry and Ron hadn't noticed anything. Men could be so oblivious sometimes.

She hoped for Ginny's sake that some sort of naturalness could be worked out between them soon, pushing down her own underlying feeling of relief that Ginny was no longer with the Slytherin. Hermione knew she had no right to judge the 'book' by its cover, and yet the thought still nagged her mind that the farther away from Draco and his father Ginny stayed, the safer she was.

*************************************************

Sirius swept long dark hair from his face and bending forward at his kitchen table, put quill to parchment with a shaky hand. After a few moments of staring at the words 'Dear Harry and…' he lowered the quill once again, letting his fatigue reddened eyes close and his head drop wearily into one hand.

He'd experienced such a hailstorm of emotions during the past month that he'd almost not been able to think straight. Not long after the meeting with James and Harry he'd disconnected them from his floo network, needing time to sort things out in his own mind before hearing from them again. He'd wept countless nights over the loss of Remus Lupin, lain awake tossing and turning over the thought that he'd had James with him the entire time and not known it, and had grown angrier and angrier at his so-called best friend for having kept him in the dark for the past sixteen years.

Oh it'd been easy enough to reason out why James had done what he had; Harry's safety, and even Sirius' own welfare had probably been the biggest, most obvious factors, with the preservation of James' own life coming in almost last on his list if Sirius knew him at all. But still, the thought that his best friend, more of a brother if the truth be told, had lied to him over and over again for so many years; not to mention the fact that he'd let him believe that another close friend who had died was still alive, kept him tossing and turning on wave after wave of confusion for countless hours.

He'd begun dreaming again of the night Lily and James were murdered. A time he'd finally been able to hide away into the back recesses of his mind after so many years, had snuck back up into his consciousness as quickly and certainly as a thief, stealing his thoughts again; bringing back feelings of emptiness and pain, and most of all, overwhelming guilt. Well he remembered the nights he'd spent in Azkaban having the same awful dreams over and over; visions of their deaths and baby Harry alone in his crib all night long, watching over the dead bodies lying before him, ran through his head like some mental horror film. The regret had eaten his joy away more than the dementors could have ever done.

He'd been away the night Voldemort had struck. Lupin and he had been taking turns staying with James, Lily and Harry those final days, because of the looming threat they had been sensing. Had it been his night with the Potters, perhaps he would be the one now lying in the ground. Perhaps Remus' life could've been spared, maybe even Lily's. Maybe he would've been a stronger opponent for Voldemort than Remus had been. Remus had always been the smarter one in school, that much was true, but Sirius had always had the upper hand at duelling. What might've changed that night?

And Harry…gods that boy had already been through enough despair to last two lifetimes. He'd lost his parents, lost any type of loving family and support he could've come to know, and then been thrust into the hell and abuse that defined the Dursley household. He'd never known love, respect, or kindness until he'd come to Hogwarts and met the few that cared for him, and even then he wasn't granted reprieve. Because then he was made to endure constant threats on his life from Voldemort and constant pressure to be some sort of saviour to some of the wizarding world, while at the same time having to fear ridicule, unbelief, and slander from others. How might Harry's life have turned out differently if Sirius had been around to take care of him instead of in Azkaban? Molly Weasley had inadvertently brought that fact to his attention during a row two years ago and he'd not forgot it since.

And yet of all the guilt and pain that weighed on him like some cement block hung round his neck, he was sure none of it compared to the agony James must feel; for Remus, Lily, and for Harry. And the continuing heartbreak he must be going through having to try to build a relationship with a son he barely knew, and who barely knew him.

In that moment of clarity, Sirius decided that he owed it to himself, his friendship with James, the memory of Remus Lupin, and most of all Harry, to try.

With a steadier hand than before, Sirius dipped the nib of his quill into the clay inkpot next to him and began to scratch out his reply.

Dear Harry,

It has taken me a good while to even be able to reply to your letter. I understand that it must've hurt both you and James for me to cut myself from you for a bit after all of that, but I needed time to think things through, you understand. I'll not try to write out my questions here, or what's been on my mind; those are things better left said face to face, I think.

Suffice it to say Harry, when you said I would hate spending Christmas alone here in the old Black dungeon, you were right. I'm surprised to even hear myself say it, but its lonelier here than before Kreacher died. Barking old rotter of a house elf that he was, at least he was another living body. And the Order hasn't met much here lately, and won't be during Christmas, I'm sure. So all of that to say, I'll accept your invitation, and make arrangements with Dumbledore as to the day and time I'll arrive.

I'll say no more here, except to say that this will be difficult on all of us I think, but I'm willing to give it a go. I'm most glad for you, that you have Hermione to lean on for all of this. She's quite the rock, isn't she?

I need my family and friends much as you do, and count myself lucky you consider me part of yours. I'll be seeing you sometime round next week, I expect.

Sirius

And with that, Sirius walked to his hearth, and flooed his letter straight to Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster got it straightaway, with a twinkle in his eye that said he felt something was finally going to be put right.

**************************************************

Draco Malfoy sat stoically in the very back of his father's immaculately shined limousine and peered with dull grey eyes through the blowing snow as the driver turned down number 66 Hawthorn Way, where loomed at the end, the museum-like estate of Malfoy Manor.

A cold, rigid looking mansion towered smooth cream and grey, taller than all others down the stately area, surrounded by very even, very formal gardens, and a tall ominous looking black wrought iron gate with the Malfoy crest imperiously set above it. Lucius had designed it that way. Lofty and unyielding with almost cruelly straight lines; the house was his father put to stone design. Draco cringed inwardly as the chauffeur drove them through the gates that magically swung open.

Much like Harry Potter, although Draco would never admit it, he loathed having to come back to his 'home' during holidays and summers. Though most of the time he was given free reign of the place, what with his father out taking care of god knew what, and his mother most likely off at one of her esteemed 'rich witch' social functions, he found himself almost always starved for company. There were times when he would've taken Crabbe and Goyle's unintelligent blather over the emptiness and quiet.

Narcissa had hired servants, but they'd been trained to be silent and have little to no personality about them while going about their chores. It was more like having a house full of zombies than people. He'd grown up with most of them, but could count the conversations he'd had with them over his seventeen years on his two hands, barring his nanny. But she'd been cold and impersonal, and at times even cruel.

Yet, Draco reminisced with a shudder, he would've taken her cruelty any day over his father's. With his permanent sneer, and general disdain for anything Draco tried to accomplish outside of his own express orders, he was the epitome of everything cold, distant, and hard. Well could he remember the beatings he'd gotten from his father for making low marks in school, disobeying him indirectly, or failing to complete some task to his exact liking. He'd learned not to cry out at an early age; it only served to fuel his father's rage even more. After all, a real wizard took his punishment and learned from it, he didn't run off to squeal like a young witch, did he?

He exited the car and walked toward the great solid wood door without a backward glance at the driver. He fixed his facial expression by instinct before he even put his hand to the knob…aloof, in control, and tough as steel. Lucius Malfoy would take no less.

Draco strode into the massive foyer and was quickly relieved, if only for a moment, that no one was there waiting for him. A round polished mahogany table always laden with fresh flowers as per Narcissa, no matter the season, stood regally in the centre of a large marble floor. An intricate winding staircase loomed directly behind, and to the left, the archway that led to an impeccable dining room with white carpet, and two large crystal chandeliers hanging over an incredibly long mahogany dinner table laden with silver ornamentals; a table that more often than not, he usually sat at alone. The corners of Draco's mouth held a slight frown. Such opulence, all for nothing. It wasn't as if his parents were often there. The house and all of its rooms and riches were merely status symbols. This is how the Malfoy's were expected to live. And yet, the house, with all of the worldly comforts one could possibly ever hope to have, had a depressing, forlorn feel about it. It seemed whenever Draco came home he could almost hear the place mourning, echoing its lack of warmth.

"Draco."

A smooth, glacial voice sounded from behind him, and Malfoy stiffened inwardly as if his heart had just been frozen. He fixed his face and turned to greet the impeccably dressed wizard, hatred coursing through his veins like ice water.

"Hello father."

****************************************************

Hermione, with her nose currently stuck in the folds of a thick book, could almost feel Harry continuing to pace across the room. It was December 24th, 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 21st near Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley, London, England.

Reward for any information leading to his location. Anonymous tips accepted, no questions asked. Contact Auror Headquarters, Ministry of Magic, or Pembert and Alva Creevey, parents…"

An address and telephone number followed.

"Great Merlin," breathed Hermione, her face ashen with shame. "I'd almost forgotten about poor Dennis. Hardly ever see Colin for a reminder…"

Harry nodded, feeling just as sad and ashamed. "Ron says he keeps to himself mostly. Said he's come out a bit more lately, but he's still not like he used to be. He stays all quiet and drawn up into himself. Can't blame him."

Hermione nodded her agreement and resolved with herself to have a talk with Colin when he returned from holiday.

She and Harry moved indoors and quickly found a spot in a long, noisy queue of witches and wizards burdened down with packages to send and letters to deliver. Behind a cluttered counter, where an overweight, harried looking postmaster and his fidgety assistant stood receiving packages and scrolls, a large set of shelves stood, each one painted a different colour and holding cages with different sized owls. When each package or scroll was weighed and checked for it's destination, an appropriate owl was chosen and sent, along with its delivery, to the back with another post wizard to be set on its journey. When most of the crowd had thinned, Harry and Hermione finally neared a cluttered counter with a large sign reading "PRICE AND SWIFTNESS OF DELIVERY DETERMINED BY COLOUR-CODED OWL FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE."

The postmaster did not look up at them as he shuffled through incoming mail.

"Destination?" he asked in a thick Cockney accent.

"Number twenty one, Hyde Street, Winchester, Hampshire," said Hermione. "I've written the address on the…"

"Type a' deliv'ry?"

"…envelope," finished Hermione a bit annoyed.

He finally glanced up at them and caught sight of Harry over Hermione's head, his eyes quickly settling on the lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow. Harry frowned and quickly ruffled his bangs to cover it.

The corners of the postmasters thick lips turned down a bit. "You 'Arry Potter?"

Inwardly, Harry cringed. "Well…yeah."

The postmaster's frown deepened and bent down with a grunt to rummage beneath the counter, mumbling audibly. "Well I'll be buggered…Dunno 'ow they knew you'd be comin'. Sixth sense, I reckon…"

He re-emerged red-faced some moments later with a small rolled up parchment magically sealed. "Came fer ya earlier t'day," said the man bewildered, as he handed the small note to an equally befuddled Harry. Hermione looked on with interest.

"Ain' no return addy," continued the wizard. "Jus' th' name 'Arry Potter' on its outside. Guess they reckoned we'd know ya when we seen ya. I mean, everyone does, don' they?"

Harry eyed the roll and answered irritatedly. "I suppose…"

He pocketed the note intending to open it later, and noted the postmaster and assistant rock back on their heels with looks of disappointment.

"Well, bang it up 'ere young miss," said the fat wizard. Hermione passed him the card and he bobbed it up and down in his hand for a moment. " 'Course it don' weigh much. 'Ere Smitty…"

He handed it to his assistant who immediately turned to choose a large ash-coloured owl.

"No, you ruddy nit!" scowled the postmaster at Smitty. "A card don' take no Gian' Grey, them's fer packages an' th' like! Jus' sen' one a' them lit'le Scop owls, it'll do!"

The assistant blushed deeply and reached higher up for one of the smaller owls, attaching the letter securely to its tiny leg and taking it round to the back.

"Tha'll be five sickles," said the postmaster, turning back toward Harry and Hermione.

Harry reached into his pouch to pay the man, and he and Hermione left, headed outside into the now darker night toward the Three Broomsticks.

They sat toward the least crowded part of the dimly lighted pub, echoing with the noise of bottles clinking and witches and wizards talking and laughing. They chose a small, secluded booth away from most of the other patrons, and over mugs of steaming hot butterbeer, Harry pulled out the small parchment and tried to open it. Whatever ward had been used to close the scroll was extremely powerful as he soon found out, and it took Hermione remembering a seal breaking charm to finally reveal its contents.

She pulled out her wand and pointed it.

"Dilorico!"

The note instantly unsealed and even unfurled itself to lay flat in Harry's hand. Hermione scooted closer to him to read the few words inside.

"In two days time you shall receive the first."

Harry frowned and turned the note over as if looking for another part. "What the bloody hell…"

"Do you recognise the handwriting?" asked Hermione, grimacing.

Harry shook his head, his thoughts immediately turning black. Who else would be so cryptic? Voldemort loved playing games…could this be a sign something dark was about to rear it's ugly head again? Without even realising it he snaked an arm round Hermione and pulled her closer to him, a look of apprehension creasing his face.

Hermione's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. "Harry, what is it?"

"I dunno," said Harry quietly, kissing the top of her head. "But I think we should get back to the castle now."

Hermione nodded at him and let him take her hand, leading her out into the cold December evening, where snow had begun to come swirling down once again.

***************************************************

Dear Ginny,

I know I'll most likely see you round school but I wanted to tell you all this in a letter as I don't think we'll be having much contact back there. I know you'd like nothing more than to punch me right now. I honestly don't blame you. I wish on everything I own I could explain my actions to you, but I can't. I'm just writing you because I want you to know one thing. It's damn near impossible for me to tell you this as I don't normally go round expressing my feelings, but what I felt for you was real. Just know that.

It never could've worked with us. I guess I could've told you that and spared your feelings before all of this, but I'm a selfish son of a bitch as you well know. I enjoyed being with you, even if it was only for a short time. You're the only beautiful, genuine person I've ever known, and I hope to god you never lose that.

I just wanted you to know. I hate myself for hurting you. You're the first person I can honestly say that about. Be happy, Red. You deserve it.

Yours, Draco

Draco Malfoy watched the black owl take off into the dark night until it was unrecognisable against the sky, his heart grown even heavier than it'd done when he'd been downstairs with his father.

*****************************************************

The next two days passed too quickly for Sirius as the time to face James drew nearer.

Christmas dawned grey, snowy and cold, and Harry and Hermione awoke to find him already awake, dressed and seated in front of the common room fire, his face drawn tight with nerves. Harry decided not to embarrass him by asking him how he felt, but rather followed Hermione's approach of cheerfulness.

"Morning Sirius," yawned Hermione, plopping down on the couch beside him as Harry made his way into the bathroom for a shower.

Sirius glanced over with a small smile at the sight of Hermione, whose hair was in low pigtails. "Morning."

For a few moments they were content to listen to the crackling of the logs in the fire and the muffled spattering of the shower until Sirius finally spoke up quietly.

"So, what'd you think of him?"

Hermione turned to look at him. "Of James? He seems very kind...and patient. He's a great teacher. I can tell he loves Harry very much."

"He asked you to call him James?" said Sirius, another small smile smoothing some of the lines from his face. "Always said he'd never allow anyone to call him 'mister' or 'sir'. Sounded too old; too much like his father."

Hermione nodded. "I feel he's trying his best to make Harry comfortable round him. Maybe he knew if I called him by his first name rather than Mr. Potter it might sound less awkward. At least that's what I've thought, anyway."

"You might well be right," said Sirius thoughtfully. He paused for a few moments, trying his best to think how to phrase his next question.

"So, how do he and Harry…get on together?"

Hermione eyed him for a moment. "You don't want to ask Harry these things?"

"I just don't want him feeling more uncomfortable than he already is," said Sirius. "I don’t want him thinking he has to explain himself to me. I just want to know…I want to know if things are getting better between them."

Hermione paused for a few moments to think through how Harry and his father's relationship seemed to be progressing. "Well, it's certainly less strained than before. They're able to talk about things now, important things. But by no means is Harry over everything yet. I'm not sure he'll ever be."

Sirius grunted in understanding and sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the popping logs and the sound of Harry whistling some nameless tune as he shut off the shower.

Very unexpectedly, Hermione suddenly placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly. "And Sirius…If you're wondering if James is somehow going to replace you in Harry's life…he isn't. Harry relies on you and feels the same about you as before his father reappeared. You can feel secure in that."

She gave him a small understanding smile before jumping up as Harry emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled and a fresh pair of jeans on. Hermione pretended to ogle him like a randy tart before passing him to take her turn for the shower. Harry grinned at her and rounded the couch to sit near Sirius.

"Alright?" he asked cheerfully.

Sirius smiled at his godson and nodded, more light-hearted than he had been in days. "That girlfriend of yours is a keeper, Harry. Smart as they come, isn't she?"

Harry gave him an odd sort of smile but agreed.

The castle seemed oddly empty and echoing without the sounds of hundreds of students tromping its halls, talking with each other, and hundreds of cups, forks, and spoons clattering around plates and bowls in the Great Hall. The ghosts and portraits kept the place from being completely soundless. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron were seen chatting amiably around hallways, the Fat Friar was making gloomy noises over the missing Hufflepuff students and sulking that the Grey Lady continued to haunt the castle in silence, choosing not to speak to anyone. Peeves continued to reek havoc on any and every being who passed near him.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair. Harry, Hermione and Sirius joined Dumbledore, McGonnagol, Snape and James at one long table set in the middle of the huge room as the others had been cleared away for the holidays.

Sirius greeted them all in turn, even James, though it was a bit uncomfortable and forced. However, James seemed to take it in stride and greeted him back serenely, hoping that his own calm exterior would help Sirius feel more at ease. By the time the food had apparated to the middle of the table, a great pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hot tea and pumpkin juice, his efforts seemed to be working.

True, Sirius had not yet had to face him one on one, but James was hopeful that once they did, having already shared breakfast together might make it a bit better.

While they ate, Snape passed looks of deep dislike from Sirius to James and stayed morosely to himself, something which helped to bond the two friends together a bit more as they frequently shared observant glances about it between them. Dumbledore talked mostly about the Ministry and how they were still refusing to believe reports that Voldemort had returned. McGonnagol interjected her opinion on the whereabouts of the missing Dementors, stating somewhat unnecessarily that she was sure they'd gone to join Voldemort's ranks.

Lupin spoke up every now and then when he could, while at the same time filling Sirius in on the dark happenings at Hogwarts since the beginning of the new school term. For proving his point, he lifted up one long sleeve of his robes to show Sirius the long, angry, red scar that he now bore on his left forearm.

Sirius seemed eager to help in defending the school, although with Dumbledore's strong objections and reminders that he was still at large, some of the wind seemed to be taken from his sails. But Harry knew when time for the final war reached his godfather's ears there would be no stopping him from leaving Grimmauld Place and joining in the fight.

Time after breakfast until that evening was spent with Harry, Hermione and Sirius wrapping packages and getting things ready for James arrival to their common room. Hermione set out the load of food Dobby had made especially for them on a blanket in front of the hearth. Sirius was getting noticeably more tense as time drew nearer for James to arrive, and he ended up having to rewrap some of the packages as he was paying little attention to what he was doing .

A sharp rap on the portrait door around seven, followed by Sir Cadogen's tiny muffled voice, ("Halt! Who goes there!? You trespass on private lands, knave! Remove thyself or be forced forthwith!"), alerted them to the fact that James had finally arrived.

Hermione opened the portrait door, admonishing Cadogen and receiving James in with a kiss on the cheek. As he entered, smiling first at the Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the corner, Harry couldn't help but notice how nervous he looked as well. He and James greeted each other with a handshake and after placing his presents under the tree, James joined the other three in front of the hearth and loaded his plate.

After a long dinner, during which Hermione and Harry kept the conversation flowing as smoothly as possible, Hermione handed out the presents, making sure to add bossily that each was to be opened one at the time so everyone could see what the other had gotten.

Sirius had gotten Harry a very nice broom servicing kit, (Bernard's Complete Broom Servicing Kit: Official kit of the Salisbury Slayers) complete with twig trimmers, a splinter sander, and handle polish.

Hermione had gotten him a book, So you want to be an Auror?: A Wizard's Guide to Making the Grade by Eamon Merriweather, which when he'd opened it and faked extreme surprise, she'd scowled at him.

James had found him a book as well, but it worked more as an interactive teaching hologram. When opened, A Guide to Advanced Fencing by Englehard Parry, showed two translucent characters suddenly popping from its pages and standing in attack position. Harry only needed to touch the written fencing move he wished to see with his wand, and the characters acted it out for him.

"Thought you'd advanced far enough to use this in your spare time," added James with a smile as Harry thanked him.

But while Sirius gave the fencing book a once over, checking out different moves with a touch of his wand, Hermione looking on, James slipped a small box with a card attached into Harry's hand. Harry looked at him quizzically, but James merely gave him a small nod and mouthed to him to pocket it and open it later.

Harry'd gotten Hermione a beautiful silver bracelet at the new jewellery shop in Hogsmeade, Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. He'd made sure to set a deep blue star charm on it to similarly match the necklace he'd given her last year, and had enchanted it as well, but with a spell that would act as a mood ring for her, and tell her Harry's mood when she wore it and thought specifically of him. As she threw her arms round his neck, Sirius gave Harry a thumbs up behind her back. Harry grinned.

Both James and Sirius had given her books, as neither of them could think of anything more perfectly suited, and she of course, loved them.

James opened his presents as well, one from Harry and one from Hermione, and found, to his immense relief, that Sirius had decided not to get him anything the same as he had done. The situation was awkward enough, and both had apparently thought far enough ahead to consider how hard it might be to open a gift from the other.

Sirius appeared equally relieved to have not received anything from James as he opened one of his two gifts, the largest of them all. It was a Muggle television, charmed somewhat illegally by Arthur Weasley earlier in the year to display every local channel it could get, and when turned to channel "0" to sound with the WWN. The gift was from both Harry and Hermione for him to take back to Grimmauld place so that he could stay aware of the goings on in the Muggle and wizarding world, and also to entertain him when he was bored out of his skull. Sirius was immensely grateful.

However, as he opened his second gift and realised what it was, he was left speechless. Harry and Hermione had sat up all night a few weeks ago compiling as many old photos as they could find in the school of the Marauders and placing them carefully in an album. They had, of course, "scourgified" Peter Pettigrew from every picture making them a bit different than they had been originally, but Harry was sure Sirius didn't mind.

The book had the desired effect. Harry saw James strain his neck far enough to see what Sirius was holding, and saw his eyes widen and begin to water. The image of a young Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and mischievously grinning James Potter, who had just picked up a struggling, scowling Lily Evans in his arms, yelled and waved silently at the camera. Lily finally succeeded in the next picture to punch James in the chest hard enough for him to drop her. While James wheezed and the others laughed, Lily smoothed her robes and hair and stood grinning and waving as well.

James saw Sirius beginning to grin at the image and sat on the couch near him. "Remember that day, mate? Lily wouldn't speak to me for two days. Said I'd embarrassed her."

"You were doing that all the time, weren't you?" said Sirius flipping the page and grinning at a picture Lupin had taken of he and James giving a low fly-by over his head during a Quidditch match.

It had gotten late already, and Harry turned to Hermione who stood staring at the two with tears in her eyes. He winked covertly to her and she nodded.

"We'll be right back," he said grabbing hold of Hermione's hand. "Just need to get something from the room." James gave him a small wave to let him know they'd heard him, his eyes still keenly focussed on the album.

Harry led Hermione to her room and shut the door, both knowing full well they weren't planning to re-emerge until morning. He smiled and hugged Hermione to him in the dimly moonlit room, his own tears threatening to spill out over his cheeks. Sirius and James had just been given a way to finally open up to each other, although a bit underhandedly. He just hoped they would take advantage of it.

Much later in the evening, when Hermione had fallen asleep on Harry's chest, he found himself still unable to sleep, thinking about the two most important men in his life out in the common room. He'd heard no yelling, no raising of voices, but perhaps that had more to do with the thick oak doors his and Hermione's rooms were furnished with rather than the actual conversation. He'd just been thinking to himself what a pleasant, uneventful holiday it'd been when he heard the tap of something hard against the glass of Hermione's window behind him.

Instantly, Harry shoved his glasses back onto his face, grabbing onto Hermione with one arm and his wand with the other and pressing both of them as flat onto the bed as possible.

But as he turned to peer at the window from between the thick parted scarlet canopy, he saw only a grey barn owl perched on the sill, its feathers puffed up from the cold, and a small scroll tied to its leg.

"Harry," whispered Hermione sleepily as he made to rise from the bed. "What is it?"

Harry replied quietly, pulling the thick quilt back over her shoulders. "Nothing love, just a post owl. I'll be back."

Hermione nodded, a small frown creasing her face at the thought of a post owl delivery this late, but she'd fallen back to sleep before the thought could fully register in her head.

Harry padded toward the window and opened it slowly, his wand still clutched in his hand. He untied the note and watched as the owl flapped its way back out into the night. Again, the note was powerfully sealed. Remembering the spell Hermione had used before, Harry pointed his wand at it, keeping near the window to use the moonlight for illumination.

"Dilorico."

The note unfurled instantly, and words began to form in an eerie red blazing scrawl, one that reminded him too well of the note he'd received last year concerning Hermione's abduction. His heartbeat quickened and he gripped his wand tighter, glancing over to make sure she was still safe in her bed.

"Harry, you were warned..." the first words etched themselves. And as the rest began to form, Harry felt himself grow shaky with all of the repressed fear and anxiety he'd been saving up, knowing that eventually, something else was to happen.

"The time draws near to meet our fates.

The winds of change draw nigh.

No time, no hope its much too late.

The first are marked to die..."

**************************************************

Snowflakes fell gently on top of the precisely manicured lawn outside, the moonlight against the dark making them gleam as if sprinkled with glitter. But as Draco Malfoy sat sprawled in an expensive easy chair in front of a large domed window, his eyes dully following their journey toward the ground, he could find no beauty in it. His fathers house marred all that touched it. Nothing on these grounds could ever be considered a thing of beauty.

"Master Malfoy," said a cowed voice from behind him, sounding a bit strange as if from lack of use.

Draco sat up slowly and turned to see Marietta, the cook, eyeing him nervously as she wrung her hands.

"Dinner is served…b..but, your father wishes you to meet him in his study for a moment. He says he has your Christmas present." Marietta gave him a hopeful smile as if she'd just informed Draco of his father trying to make a nice gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to be fooled.

He nodded to her and she scurried away toward the kitchen to bring everything out to the table.

Malfoy headed down the long marble hallway, somehow reminded of a death-row wizard taking his final stroll toward the room where he was to be dispensed of. But Lucius wasn't about to kill him…yet. He had too much for Draco to accomplish first, of that he was sure. Sorry you won't get the pleasure you trumped up pile of shit…

He entered his father's study with his hands plunged deep into his robes. Lucius sat stiffly in a large leather chair facing the lit fireplace, a look of deep satisfaction smoothing the usual harsh lines in his face. Draco scanned the room and saw no wrapped boxes; nothing out of the ordinary. He began to immediately grow wary and took an involuntary step backward.

"Be seated, Draco," said Lucius quietly, gesturing at an identical chair near him.

Draco sat himself down slowly, perched on the edge of the seat as if prepared for instant flight if needed. "Marietta said you had something for me."

"Indeed I do," said Lucius, the hint of malevolent satisfaction making chills creep up and down Draco's spine. He was just thinking to himself that he should've listened to his instinct and escaped this dungeon last night when, with a wave of Lucius' wand, the door behind him slammed shut and locked with a frighteningly secure click.

Malfoy turned his wide gaze from the door toward his father and gripped the arms of the chair so hard his fingernails broke the soft leather.

"Father," his voice sounded cold even to him. "What's this about?"

"I told you last night some changes were in order," said Lucius softly with a small smile. A hot log in the hearth gave a particularly loud crack and Draco fought the urge to jump at the sudden noise.

"When I'd heard of your…dealings…with the Weasley witch from Nott, I knew my decision was the correct one," continued Lucius. "I believe Dumbledore thinks he can draw some sort of…misguided good…from you, thus your inclusion into the Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Therefore, you could be one of the essential elements in his undoing, and consequently in reinforcing the dark lord's new movement. Therefore, we can't have you influenced by any of the bleeding-heart idiots at school who don't understand where the true power lies."

Draco tensed. "Father, I told you…She meant nothing to me…just another whore…"

Lucius stood. The look of intense determination in his father's eyes was what did it for Draco. Lucius wasn't hearing him. Whatever he'd decided to do, he wasn't going to turn from it, no matter what his son said.

There was no time for more thought or planning. In an instant Draco's fingers had curled round his wand and he'd whipped it out toward his father.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The spell hit him directly in the chest.

Draco did not wait to watch the results, he whirled toward the door and bellowed "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, but the second his hand reached the knob something hit him from behind.

"Immobulus!"

Draco bashed into the door and fell with a limp thud to the hardwood floor, his eyes squinted hard shut against the pain shooting through his head. He eyes were the only thing still able to move.

Lucius Malfoy calmly strode over to his son and dragged him back up onto his chair.

"Ah Draco," he sneered, only a bit out of breath and holding his wand steadily on him. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't prepare myself for just such an eventuality? Shield charms are easy to conjure. I'd hoped you'd decided to continue in the ways of our lord, but unfortunately, as you've now made it quite clear, you've already been tainted by Dumbledore and those who believe in him. You've given me no choice but to force loyalty upon you, I'm afraid. And I'd so hoped we could do this the easy way. Ah well, such is life..."

Although his face was frozen, on the inside, Draco was screaming. Bastard! Son of a bitch! Oh god, he's going to do it…oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod…

Lucius bent down and carefully, calmly rolled up the left sleeve of Draco's robe, watching his sons eyes narrow hatefully as he spied his golden hand.

"After I'm done I must return to our master," he said almost conversationally. "He's expecting me. Udolphus will take you back to King's Cross when it comes time for your return to school."

Oh god…ohmygod don't let this happen to me…

"By way of explanation," continued Lucius as he straightened up once again and towered over his son's prone form. "From now on, you will feel the master's draw. When he calls, the mark will burn, as I’m sure you've already seen. Of course, you won't be expected to give response until after you've done with school, at which time you will immediately join in his service. With this mark, the dark lord has access to your feelings and emotions. If he is focussing on you at the time, he will sense any feelings of betrayal, and mark my words Draco, you will be found and dealt with accordingly."

Son of a bitch…you great son of a bitch…I hope you rot in hell…

Lucius raised his wand, ironically held by the huge golden hand. Draco determined not to show fear in his eyes.

"Be cheered son," said Lucius, smiling coldly. "Receiving the mark is a great honour. Morsmordre!"

Immediately after, Lucius disapparated with a loud crack.

And as the mark burned his skin, etching even down into his muscle the brand of Voldemort, silent screams echoed through Draco's head, who now felt as if his soul had been branded as well. Unclean…unclean…

Some half an hour later, when a shaking, white-faced Marietta had finally been allowed to remove the curse and help him to the table, Draco sat completely alone at the end of it, surrounded by row upon row of Christmas dishes. They steamed hot, all of his favourites, but his mouth was too dry to eat. Even if he'd been able to force any of it down, Draco wasn't sure it would stay there. The long opulent table screamed of emptiness as he stared down it, wondering what it might be like to have others there with him. But even if he could at this moment, he would turn them away. He was tainted. Dirty. He was now, truly a Malfoy.

"Happy Christmas Draco," he whispered to no one at all.

*************************************************

A/N: So sorry for the tremendously long wait, but it’s a really long chapter so I hope that makes up for it some! Cheers! Bama

28. Chapter 28: Marked

Chapter 28: Marked

Harry jerked awake next morning not quite sure when exactly it had been that he'd fallen asleep. Hermione was moulded closely to him, her warm cheek pressed against his chest, chestnut hair half concealing her face, and her arm thrown peacefully round his waist. He realised he must've fallen asleep with his arms and legs wrapped tightly about her, and in waking, still felt the urge to keep her securely against him, though the steady rise and fall of her breathing seemed to calm him a bit.

After having received the threatening note last night, Harry had stood guard at the window for some time, his wary gaze travelling back and forth from the sleeping form of Hermione to the darkness and white-blanketed grounds outside. The moonlight filtering through the clouds and shining down on the snow had made the otherwise black night almost luminescent, and he'd been grateful for the advantage.

For two solid hours he had fought drowsiness and stood rigidly watching, and though he rarely needed it anymore, he had kept his wand clutched tightly in hand, his eyes keenly searching the grounds for any sign of movement. Though he knew Dumbledore had tripled the strong wards and protections round the school, the memory of Hermione being swept right from Hogwarts' grounds last year haunted his mind constantly.

In fact, it had been the sound of her crying out from another nightmare that had finally brought him back to bed. He'd decided quickly to place a protective ward on the door and window, and then had crawled back under the covers with her, gathering her to him and stroking her hair until she finally fell back into a peaceful sleep.

For hours it seemed he'd lain awake holding her, adamantly willing his protection around her and wishing for the life of him that he could protect all others Voldemort might harm as well. He was anxious to figure out who the dark lord had marked to attack, and the thought of sending warning owls first thing next morning was his last one as sleep finally dulled the sharp edges of his mind and lulled him under. Once again that night, as so many times before, Harry dreamed of he, Hermione and Ron dying at the hands of Voldemort and his followers.

The heavy scarlet drapes began charming themselves open as the sun hit them fully not more than four hours later, and Harry, fully awake and once again lost in anxious thoughts, watched a bright white beam spread over he and Hermione like another quilt. He felt Hermione begin to stir beside him and tilted his gaze down toward her, deciding at once not to alarm her with news that he had begun dreaming the same horrifying dream on a regular basis. Besides, it was bad enough what he did have to tell her.

Hermione breathed a long sigh and opened her eyes with a squint from the sunlight, as completely rested from a full night of sleep as Harry was not. She looked up with a smile at him, but immediately noticed his grim expression.

"Harry…how long've you been awake? What's wrong?"

Harry hesitated a moment and then sat up running a hand down his face and back up through his messy hair. Hermione noticed his bloodshot eyes and frowned concerned at him.

"You don't look as if you got any sleep. Did you?"

Harry sighed. "A bit. Listen, love…d'you remember the post owl that came last night?"

Hermione eyed him. "Not exactly…"

" I don't wonder; you were half asleep," Harry replied wearily. He leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the note from the floor and handed it to her. "Here, read it."

Her eyes flew over the short note and a look of horror quickly stole onto Hermione's face. She turned her gaze back to Harry. "Oh no…oh my god, Harry…"

"The bastard's finally ready to attack and I can't do a bloody thing to stop it," said Harry in angry frustration. "Only thing I know to do is send a post to everyone we figure he might immediately target. It'll be someone close I think, someone who'll make a first impact…on me especially." He sighed and again clawed a hand through his hair. "Of course my first thought was to contact the Ministry, but it's not as if they'd take it seriously what with them determined to stay ignorant about his return."

(A/N: I started this story pre-OotP so in my story the fight at the Ministry, Sirius' death, and Fudge finding out he was wrong all this time never took place.)

"No they wouldn't." Hermione shook her head, her eyes again glued to the glowing red words as if she might somehow glean more information from them. "They'd only make more trouble for you and Professor Dumbledore. They won't believe Voldemort's back until it's proven he's done something, I’m afraid. But I think you're right; we should send warning owls."

Harry paused and turned more toward her, taking her by the arms and gazing gently at her, dreading his next words. "Look…love, I don't mean to scare you, but…but I think we should send one to your parents as well."

Stunned, Hermione shot a fearful gaze at Harry and quickly grabbed his hands. "My parents!? Harry, you don't actually think he would attack them!? He knows the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government share information…if he was caught harming Muggles, law enforcement would contact the Ministry immediately! And remember what Bellatrix Lestrange said to you? She basically said Voldemort wouldn't risk having himself seen by the Ministry and give up the cover they're ignorantly providing! He'd be out in the open; no longer able to move in secret! There's no way he wants that!"

Harry put a gentle hand to her face and spoke in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Things change, love. If he's moving toward a final war maybe he thinks it's time everyone finally chose sides. Maybe now, it's exactly what he wants."

Panic began to pound Hermione's heart relentlessly hard against her chest. She was normally a very calm witch, able to stay cool and think logically in times of stress. But if Voldemort was trying to draw Harry out as his note would indicate, and he did decide to target Muggles, the loss of his girlfriend's parents would be a sure way of affecting Harry.

"It's not certain who he'll target yet, love." Harry said as gently and reassuring as he could. "As for him attacking Muggles, I dunno if he'd do it himself or use Death Eaters…or possibly send Dementors again. Remember what happened to me fifth year in Little Whinging? What if Umbridge was working for him like you, Ron and I think she was? And if Voldemort was behind her sending Dementors after me, in Muggle England, I don't see what would stop him doing something like it again. His goal has always been to purge the wizarding world of half-bloods, but I'm certain now he's decided to broaden his horizons. I think he's just mad enough to want run of the whole world, and that would include ridding himself of Muggles as well. We want to be sure to warn everyone we can think of, don't we? "

Harry felt a pang of regret run through his chest at the stricken look on Hermione's face. A few warm tears rolled down her cheek and he reached a hand up to thumb them gently away, pulling her to him.

"It's alright love," he whispered. "We'll just owl them straight away. It's all we can do for now."

Hermione pulled away from him for a moment and gave him a determined look. "It's not all we can do. Harry, I want you to listen to me for a moment…"

Harry frowned, slightly puzzled, but nodded for her to continue.

"We need to tell Dumbledore on this one," said Hermione firmly. "No arguments, Harry. This goes far beyond your being too old for his advice. He needs to know about this."

To Hermione's surprise, Harry agreed with her at once. "I know love, you're right. It's not just my life we're dealing with anymore. I'm going to tell him this morning after we've sent the posts and had breakfast. But I have a favour to ask of you."

Hermione gazed at him. "You know you can ask me anything."

Harry nodded. "I don't want Sirius knowing about this. He's still not safe with the Ministry and I know he won't go back to Grimmauld Place if he finds out Voldemort's about to strike. Especially if he knows I'm being sent bloody notices beforehand."

"I understand," said Hermione. "But Harry, you yourself said once the war begins there'll be no stopping him …"

"I know," said Harry grimly. "And I still believe that. But I don't want to know something I did or let him in on got him sent back to Azkaban or… or worse. I couldn't live with myself. I want him alive and safe as long as possible…Maybe that's selfish, huh?"

It was Hermione's turn to gaze gently at him and she took his hand in hers, noting the familiar worn look on his face. She knew how heavily the lives of everyone Harry knew and loved weighed on him; knew the colossal burden he carried day after day, and knew he blamed himself for the deaths that had already taken place, though he shouldn't. She also knew what an enormous heart Harry had beating inside his chest, a heart she loved more than any other in the world.

She stood from the bed and began rummaging for clothes for the walk down to the Owlery. Harry turned his back as she dressed and she did the same for him. She took his hand as they made to exit her room and turned him to her for a moment more.

"You're a wonderful man Harry, and I love you. Never forget that."

As Harry kissed her and hugged her closely to him, the thought entered his mind that she might feel a bit differently when even more began to die for the immense hatred Voldemort had for him. It was inevitable; he knew they would. It was only a matter of who, and when.

So Harry lived for today…and today, Hermione Granger loved him.

He'd long before given up hoping for the future. Within the life of the boy-who-lived only one black certainty stood out amongst all of the uncertain: Harry Potter was never promised tomorrow.

**********************************************

Aunt Petunia,

I'm sure this is a shock to you hearing from me

during school, but I've just got some bad news as of late and

thought I should warn you. Voldemort is on the move again.

I've addressed this to you Aunt Petunia as you know

what I'm on about when I mention him. He'll be looking to

strike at those he thinks I'm close to, or in your Case, one's

who provide me with any type of protection. I'm sure you

remember Professor Dumbledore chose to leave me with

you and Uncle Vernon because you're my mother's sister and

having the same blood, I'm protected with you in your house.

Come graduation, I'll be moving out and you won't have anything more to worry on, but in the meantime, watch yourselves.

Harry

Ron's letter was decidedly more warm, though Harry couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed of it. He had done his duty in warning the Dursley's, but he had never felt anything but profound dislike for them. He probably never would, he supposed, but then again, he was sure the feeling was mutual.

Ron,

How are you? Hope you're having a happy Christmas so far.

I hope Percy decided to show though I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. I hope it wasn't too hard on your Mum and Dad, though I expect they've got used to it, haven't they? Tell Gred and Forge I can't wait to see their shop and I expect a good return on my investment. (But for the love of Merlin don't say it in front of Molly.)

Mate, I hate to bring you bad news during holiday, but I needed to warn you and the rest of the family. While Hermione and I were at Hogsmeade a few days ago I got a rather strange note. It read: "in two days time you shall receive the first." I'm pretty sure it was referring to the note I got last night round midnight at Hermione's window.

I've written it out for you:

"The time draws near to meet our fates.

The winds of change draw nigh.

No time, no hope its much too late.

The first are marked to die..."

I'm sure you know who it's from. There's no way to know who he's targeted first, but I wanted you warned. I'm certain Voldemort would love to hurt anyone close to me. Warn everyone to keep a close watch out, and please tell your dad to notify the Order, though I'm sure as soon as we've gone to him, Dumbledore will do it as well. Also mate, please make sure to tell your father not to let Sirius in on it. I think you know why.

You and Ginny keep watch for anything suspicious on your way back to the castle. I mean it Ron, watch your back. Hermione and I will see you two in a week. Take care, mate.

Harry

*****************

Though Harry's words had calmed Hermione somewhat, she still composed the letter to her parents with a shaky hand. As she wrote, horror filled thoughts continued to assault her brain; images of her parents laid out dead in their home, her house destroyed, even neighbours and their children she'd grown up with flashed dead and mangled in her mind, their glassy, lifeless eyes staring accusatorily through her. She shuddered and tried to shove the images away as she continued.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I hope you're having a happy Christmas so far. Harry and I had a wonderful one with his father and godfather. I think Harry's made real progress with his father, (as I explained before) and it seems as if his godfather and James will be able to become friends again. At least, Harry and I are hoping so. We left them last night talking and reminiscing on old times, and I hope it'll get them thinking on what their friendship is all about.

Mum, Dad…It's hard for me to write this next bit in a letter, but as I have no other way of talking to you right now, it's necessary. I've been honest with you for some time now about Harry, on what happened to him when he was a baby, and on the dark wizard who's been after him. For a while now we've not heard anything from him, but last night, Harry received a message we're certain is from Voldemort or one of his followers. It basically stated that he's targeted someone. Before you start worrying I want to let you know that on Hogwarts grounds, as always, we're safe. But neither of you are. It makes sense Voldemort might decide to attack those he hates most, and you being Muggles and my parents makes you a likely target.

I would like very much to know you're safe…perhaps for a while you could go stay with Grandmother or leave on an extended vacation? Please find somewhere else to stay until I've let you know the danger is over, and please try not to worry over me too much. And before you decide to owl me back, know that I have no intentions of leaving Hogwarts, or Harry. I love him, but you know that. I'm safe here and Harry watches me like a snitch; he never lets me out from his sight. Please owl back a reply soon as you receive this. I won't be able to rest until I know you're safe.

All my love, Hermione

After having received the owl the night before, Harry had decided it

would be better if they sent any messages via the floo network since it seemed

pretty certain Voldemort would be watching the owl posts. So he and Hermione watched their hearth as the green flames rushed each letter to its destination, their hearts hanging heavier than they had done for a long time.

******************

Unbeknownst to Harry and Hermione, they had not been the only ones so late the Friday night before to receive mail.

On his bed in the Slytherin boy's dorms, Draco Malfoy sat rigidly staring into nothingness, the curtains of his four poster shut tight around him both to ward off the early morning sunshine and the prying eyes of any other awake dorm mates. His pale skin seemed even paler within the dimly lit hideaway he'd fashioned for himself. Purple circles had smudged themselves under his steely grey eyes as a way of reminding him he had not slept. The parchment he kept crushed in his fist had the wrinkled, slightly grubby appearance of having been read and then re-crumpled over and over again.

He should have expected it. Lucius had not given him the dark mark for no reason; he'd had plans for him all along, even for the five or so short months he had left at Hogwarts.

Draco miserably lifted a hand to the mark his father had given him as a 'gift' over Christmas and rubbed the still smarting area. Lucius had made it quite plain he and his damnable 'master' wanted Draco to act as a spy, and to use Ginny to better do it.

Voldemort would know if he didn't do what his father had instructed him to in the letter, he knew… If only he were skilled at Occlumency like Professor Snape or even Scarhead for the matter…

He didn't give a damn about Potter or any of his drooling fans, nor any more what his father and Voldemort did, or did not find out about them. The one thing he did care about concerning anything Gryffindor however, was Ginny Weasley. What he decided to divulge to Lucius, and therefore Voldemort, could and would have direct consequence on her, and that above all was the one thing that most plagued him.

For what seemed the tenth time since he'd received it, Draco again unrumpled the letter and smoothed it out before him, reading the glowing red words as morosely as if they were a eulogy for his own funeral.

To Draco himself, they might as well have been.

Draco,

I trust by now you've made it back to Hogwarts.

I would have done before, but I am writing you now to give you instruction, having just now received it for you from the dark lord.

As you are by now aware, our lord is no longer able to directly access Potter's thoughts and emotions, nor is the blood traitor able to access his in turn, as he has effectively shut them out.

Though he is still capable of reaching him through dreams, our lord wishes to know what Potter is thinking and planning, as well as any thoughts or plans from Dumbledore. You are to watch both of them carefully Draco; shadow Potter and Dumbledore as much as you are able. Listen to every conversation you can; and though you are from a different house, stay as close as possible and glean information. Although there is already at Hogwarts one a bit closer to Potter who is now spying for us, our lord believes he cannot have too many of his loyal infiltrating our enemies.

For this reason I have discussed with our lord your previous involvement with the young Weasley witch. He feels, as I now do, that you will be of better assistance if you resume your relationship with her. She will be able to unwittingly provide you with information concerning Potter and his friends, as well as any dealings with Dumbledore she may have heard from them. Our lord wishes you to accomplish this straight away. And, I shall add of my own accord Draco; you are not to develop any type of emotion toward the whore. She is nothing more than a means to an end and when the time comes, she will be destroyed along with the rest of our master's enemies.

Lord Voldemort will very soon be fulfilling the warning Potter has just received from him, and has many more plans to rid himself and those faithful to him of the mudbloods and Muggle filth that taint our world.

Finally Draco, I will warn you yet again. If for any reason you decide to defy our lord and master, he will sense it straight away, and you will be done away with. Neither he, nor myself, have any tolerance for traitors.

Second in command to his majesty,

Lucius Malfoy

'Our lord'… 'his majesty'… Bullshit.

Once again Draco crumpled the note in his fist. His face blotched scarlet with rage, while at the same time his stomach gave a nauseating churn of fear. He would no sooner use Ginny and then give her over to be killed than slice his own throat, and yet here Lucius was commanding him to do just that.

Not for the first time in his young life, Draco was forced yet again to think desperately for a way out from between a rock and the proverbial hard place.

**************************************************

Christmas holidays came and went more quickly than Harry or Hermione could have imagined, and though the remainder of them were spent in a state of extreme unease, nothing was heard from the Ministry of Magic or Muggle law enforcement that seemed to point toward Voldemort.

The morning of January first Sirius flooed himself back to Grimmauld Place, carrying back with him a pocketful of shrunken presents and belongings. To Harry and Hermione's great surprise, he hugged James goodbye as well as them although a bit awkwardly, and promised to keep in touch through Dumbledore. The smile on James' face as his friend left told Harry far more than words could have done how well his and Sirius' talk had gone over.

Far too soon, Harry and Hermione found themselves faced with the renewed prospect of N.E.W.T. level classes and returning students pounding the silent halls of the school awake once again. In fact, late next afternoon, it was as if the quiet had never been. Around five o'clock the great double doors of the school slammed open, and hundreds of talking laughing students began pouring inside carrying smaller bags and presents and leaving their trunks on the outside carriages to be apparated in later by the house elves. Within school grounds only the house elves were able to apparate anything, it seemed.

Ron met Harry and Hermione for dinner in the Great Hall an hour later, looking quite a bit less carefree after holiday than he had done last year. He plopped himself down heavily opposite Harry and Hermione and between Seamus Finnegan and Colin Creevey, who if possible, seemed paler and even more withdrawn than he had done even before holiday. Ron made sure both Colin and Seamus were engaged in other conversations before favouring his two best friends with a grim smile. His first words to them upon returning were about the warning Harry had sent him, and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised.

" 'Lo mates…any news yet?" He asked quietly as he grabbed two turkey legs and heaped a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

Harry shook his head dourly and filled his plate as well, plucking a roll from a basket nearby. "Not a bit and it's frustrating as hell. Dumbledore's got Kingsley Shacklebolt among the Ministry Aurors keeping an ear out for news, and of course he's got his regular connections with the Muggle network."

Ron nodded. "Mum and Dad were in a right state when Ginny and I read them your letter. Dad's already cast about three dozen protective charms over the Burrow but Bill and Charlie'll be over until around January fifteenth, so Mum feels a bit safer, I think. But she's half nutters over you, mate. Thinks you'll be safer with wizards than Muggles when time comes to leave school, especially what with the Dementors attacking you a couple of years ago. She said f Voldemort's still running about come graduation, she'll have you at the Burrow than back with the Dursley's no matter what Dumbledore says. Besides she hates them anyway, the sods…"

"I know she does," Harry smiled fondly. "But if that does happen, I'll be out on my own by then, won't I? I'll be getting my own flat."

Harry missed Hermione suddenly shifting her eyes downward at the table at his words as he was still focussed on Ron.

Ron goggled at him. "Bloody hell…I suppose you will…and so will I once I get the money for it! I still can't believe it's our last year." He sat still for a moment staring blankly through Lavender who was talking with Parvarti a few spaces down the table until he remembered what he'd been just about to say. His gaze moved back to Harry and Hermione.

"Dumbledore's already met with the Order and put them on triple alert. Has them set out in different places all along Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even undercover in some Muggle areas. Did you know?"

"I'm not surprised," said Harry evenly looking toward Hermione. "He's always right on top of things isn't he?"

"Yes he is," said Hermione quietly.

Ron angled closer to them and continued, but in a much quieter tone. He could've sworn he'd seen Colin leaning into their conversation a bit over his plate of turkey. "And you don't have to worry about Sirius, mate. Dumbledore's already warned the Order to keep quiet near him. He's as worried about him getting involved and being seen as you are."

Harry nodded, feeling some of the heavy, invisible weight slip from his shoulders. "Well, Sirius is helping in a way though he doesn't really know it, what with him now able to watch Muggle news."

Ron quickly shot he and Hermione an incredulous look. "What'd you mean watch Muggle news!?" He hissed out. "You mean he's out running about with them waiting to see if something bloody happens!? Has he gone completely nutters!?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him until she remembered Ron had no idea about television. It had been one of the few things Arthur Weasley had yet to get his hands on. She grabbed his arm before he could begin to rant even louder and attract attention.

"No Ron, of course not. Harry and I gave him a television set for Christmas. It's a box that transmits information to you much like the WWN does; only with pictures. He'll be able to see if anything important happens; maybe even before the Ministry finds out depending on how quickly the Muggles report it to them."

Harry nodded. "It's the one thing I'm afraid of. But Sirius wouldn't stay ignorant forever; he'd find some way of getting information whether or not he had the television. In any case, Muggle reporters are quick with their news."

"Bugger me…" Ron goggled at them, showing Hermione a mouthful of turkey and potatoes before he swallowed. "Well I guess they are quick what with having those fellytones to communicate with and such."

"Telephones," corrected Hermione.

"Tha's wha' I said," said Ron around a mouthful of roll.

"No you didn't Ron, you said…" began Hermione before a quick nudge and subtle shake of Harry's head reminded her that it was useless to argue with him further.

Hermione sighed, disappointed. She felt somehow unfulfilled when she wasn't allowed to correct a glaring mistake.

*************************************************

Ginny passed Hermione, Harry and Ron next afternoon on her way from a gruelling sixth year potions, realising too late that the next class in line was seventh year double potions with the Slytherin. She'd only had a moment to nod to Hermione who, right before entering Snape's classroom had mouthed to her that she wanted to talk later, before she ran almost headfirst into the brick wall visage of Vincent Crabbe, shadowed by the even larger, Gregory Goyle.

"Watch where you're going Gryffinwhore," Crabbe growled out menacingly. Behind him, Goyle snickered dumbly.

"What'd you just call me!?" Ginny reddened, her breath coming in short furious pants.

Theodore Nott, who'd just passed the group backed up with a gleeful expression and cackled. "Listen at this, mates. She acts as if she hasn't heard it before… I know I haven't banged her, but I’m willing to give it a go Weasley, if you're up for it. From what I hear, you always are."

Ginny swept her hand guilefully under her robes and wrapped her fingers tightly round her wand, her eyes blazing violently. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was still a virgin for Godric's sake and even if she wasn't, there was no way in bloody hell she'd give herself to a Slytherin. Well…there'd only ever been one she'd considered before, but that was apparently over. Ginny forced those thoughts away and smiled grimly. Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had her beat as far as largeness was concerned, but she knew her skill with the wand far surpassed theirs.

"Blow it out your shorts you bloody mong," she hissed at Nott whipping out her wand too quickly for any of them to reply. "I don't know where you three get your information, but I wouldn't sleep with you or any other Slytherin for the matter if you paid me all the gold in Gringotts! Now I suggest we all get along to class before I decide to rearrange your arses with your heads...assuming that hasn't already been done."

Nott and Goyle made a motion to move forward, but a sudden glance over the top of Ginny's head quickly made them think otherwise and they slowly backed off. To save face, Nott merely shrugged his shoulders disaffectedly and re-shouldered his books once again.

"Whatever you say Weasley. We've all heard how you like to rip up the sheets with any bloke who'll have you. It's quite pathetic, really," he chuckled poisonously with a sudden nasty glance behind her. Crabbe and Goyle laughed aloud. Ginny gaped at them but still made no move to turn round and see what they were all staring at. Nott continued. "But I have heard poorer witches can climb their way higher up the rich social ladder if they'll just shag the right wizard. Guess you're just giving them all a good test run, aye? How 'bout it Gryffinwhore…up for doing a train?"

Ginny inhaled sharply and made to scream out a reply but was given no chance to. Someone behind her, a someone with a very familiar deep voice suddenly roared ferociously and charged past her.

"Son of a bitch! I'll rip you in half!"

Draco Malfoy was a blur of blonde hair and black school robes as he threw down his books, pounded past her, and launched himself at Nott. Both crashed hard to the floor. His fists began pounding into him wherever they could, and Nott, severely startled at an attack coming from the usually cool Malfoy, finally gained enough wits about him to begin to fight back. Ginny squealed in fright and began to approach them yelling, before Draco shouted at her and shot a hand out to shove her roughly back.

"NO! Stay the hell out of it, Red!"

Nott took that moment to land a hard punch to Malfoy's jaw. He immediately returned it, along with an answering punch to the gut. The sounds of shouting and cursing quickly sent the whole of seventh year potions racing excitedly out from the classroom and into the halls, yelling wildly and punching fists in the air despite Professor Snape barking loudly for them to stay put while he went to investigate. A good fight livened up any class, especially a dreadful N.E.W.T. level Potions.

Snape shoved through the throng now surrounding Draco and Theodore, bulldozing students out of the way and nearly knocking Harry to the ground. Harry snarled at him as he passed, and pushed Hermione behind him to keep her from an errant flying limb or fist. She narrowly missed falling into Colin Creevey. As always, he stood toward the back of the fray to garner the least amount of attention, his face a picture of misery.

"Bloody hell," exhaled Ron loudly as he gaped at the two young men scrambling to beat each other senseless. Draco gave another furious roar at something Nott said and hammered his fist into Theodore's kidney, baring his teeth and bleeding from his nose and lip like a feral animal. Beside Ron, Lavender gave him a poke in the ribs.

"Not now Lav. This's getting good," said Ron keeping his eyes glued to the scuffle.

"Ron," hissed Lavender in an annoyed tone. "Look at your sister!"

Ron whirled to eye Lavender at once. "Ginny? Where!?"

Lavender rolled her eyes at him and pointed toward the very front of the crowd opposite him. Ron strained to peer past Snape, who was now grabbing at both boys and trying without success to pry them apart. Ginny stood dwarfed by a couple of cheering seventh year Gryffindor boys, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. A few tears stole down her cheeks as she watched the fight.

"Wha…" began Ron, flabbergasted. "What the bloody hell is she doing here!? She's supposed to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

Lavender clucked her tongue impatiently at him. "Well I suppose you might find that out by going over and asking her while Professor Snape is busy, mightn't you?"

Ron merely nodded, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and threaded his way through the crowd toward his sister. But as he neared her, it became quite clear from the look she shot him that she was by no means in the mood for explaining herself.

"Ginny…why aren't you…"began Ron above the din.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ginny closed her eyes briefly and shot him a warning look. "Just leave me alone, Ron…please."

Ron looked as if it was beyond his better judgement to do so, but having been on the receiving end of Ginny's temper too many times before, he merely nodded at her, puzzled, and headed back toward Harry and Hermione, who was looking Ginny's way with concern.

Snape finally realised he wasn't going to be able to yank the two fighting boys apart physically. Furiously, he snatched his wand from his robes and bellowed out a spell.

"Difflare!"

Draco and Theodore were immediately shoved apart by an unseen hand and thrown opposite each other to the floor, breathing heavily.

For his part, Draco seemed the less scathed of the two. His normally slick blonde hair fell wildly abound his head, and a cut near his eye dribbled blood down his face, as well as a deeper one on his lip, already beginning to swell. Harry could see a large reddened area on one cheek that would likely be turning into a great purple bruise. His robes were dusty and ripped in places, one sleeve almost completely torn off and his prefects badge now hanging from his tattered robes by only a torn shred of material. The cut and nicked swollen knuckles of his right hand showed obvious signs of recent hard use.

The most obvious place they'd been used was Nott's face. One already small brown eye was already swollen shut, and his nose bled freely from both nostrils. When he turned to the side to spit a mouthful of blood and saliva on the floor, much to Parvarti and Lavender's disgust, Harry could swear he heard a tooth clatter to the floor along with it. His robes were equally ripped, tattered and dirty from the castle floor. He seemed to be reeling a bit as well, no doubt from some of the well placed blows to the head he had received from Malfoy, who was now standing as still as a stone wall opposite him and glaring at him with a snarling face full of hatred.

Breathing heavily, Nott coughed and again spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the floor, glaring at Malfoy with a completely gobsmacked expression. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Draco!? She's a Gryffindor for Salazar's sake! I was only telling the truth! I didn't deserve any of that shit! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"NEITHER DID SHE!" Draco bellowed in reply, swiping at his mouth with a torn sleeve and beginning to stomp forward again. Harry quickly strode out from the crowd and snatched Draco's left arm before Draco suddenly hissed in pain and yanked it furiously from his grasp. Harry fixed him with a hard look of warning and shook his head slightly at him.

"Don't touch me, Potter." Malfoy glared at him rigidly, his gaze full of hatred…and something else Harry couldn't define.

Puzzlement washed over Harry's features before he spoke up roughly. "Leave it. You're in enough trouble as it is."

" 'Leave it'…right. You're one to talk," snorted Malfoy spitefully.

"So," began Nott again with an ugly sneer. Snape was currently distracted snapping loudly at students to return to the classroom. "You lied then…all to throw daddy off your trail, no doubt. What would he do if he knew his son'd gone soft?"

Before he realised what he was doing, Draco absently raised a hand to touch his left bicep. Nott's eyes flickered down to the hand and then back up in an instant; his jaw falling open with sudden realisation. He spoke again in an awed whisper.

"What's he already done?"

A flash of alarm suddenly passed over Malfoy's face and he dropped the hand quickly. Harry glanced at the two, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as if the answer to something he hadn't even asked a question to was just out of his reach. But Malfoy was spared a reply by Snape, who suddenly reappeared from his classroom to stomp between the two boys.

"Silence!" He hissed out furiously.

Most of the other students had already retreated from Snape's fury to the relative safety of the classroom, including Crabbe and Goyle who'd slunk away earlier like a couple of fat, oily snakes. Only Harry, Malfoy, Nott, and Ginny, who was still gazing at Malfoy with a mixture of hurt and scepticism, remained behind.

Snape approached the four looking by all accounts like a greasy black panther stalking its prey. He circled them menacingly until his eyes fell on Harry.

"Potter," he drawled, eyeing Harry through narrowed, hateful eyes. "What do you have to do with all of this…"

Harry gaped at him. It was obvious he'd shown up same time everyone else had. "Not a thing."

"You don't honestly think I believe you," Snape snarled. "You're far too arrogant for your own good, as usual. You'll be serving detention this weekend along with Malfoy and Nott."

"What!?" Harry bellowed furiously, his hands closing into fists. "I had nothing to do with this and you know it! I showed up same time as all the others! Besides Gryffindor has a game on Saturday!"

Snape favoured him with a scheming smile. Malfoy glanced from one to the other, offering nothing but blank detachment, but Ginny decided to speak up.

"Professor Snape I've been here the whole time…Harry had nothing to do with it; in fact he stopped Malfoy attacking Nott again."

Snape smirked coldly and kept his eyes on Harry. "Then detention for existing, Potter. Now get to class."

Bloody hell… Harry flushed, looked very much as if he would like to wrap his hands round Snape's throat and squeeze until his eyeballs popped out. He shot the Professor a look of purest loathing, which had a much greater effect on Snape than it had ever done before since Harry was now almost taller than he. Snape wrapped his fingers round his wand, mentally begging Potter to do anything to give him reason to blast him, but Harry merely scowled at him and entered the classroom.

Looking thoroughly satisfied with himself, Snape turned his attention back toward the remaining three, his gaze piercing them once again. He turned toward Ginny first. "Ms. Weasley…last I checked you'd not graduated to seventh year potions; in fact, I'm most certain none of the Weasleys will ever make it to a N.E.W.T. level class. Therefore I'm inclined to ask what you think you are doing here."

Ginny alternated glaring from him to the others and opening and closing her mouth as she fished for a plausible excuse.

"As I thought," sneered Snape. "I suggest you get out from my sight and to your next class."

Ginny wanted to have to explain the situation about as much as she wanted to be hexed with boils, so with a last betrayed glance toward Draco, she mutely turned on her heel and headed down the empty hallway. Draco watched her go, his expression carefully neutral. When she had turned the corner out of sight, Snape turned his wrath on the final two students remaining in the hallway.

"I WILL NOT tolerate behaviour of this nature from my own house; grappling about on the floor like some excitable, asinine Gryffindor…" he seethed contemptuously. He narrowed his eyes angrily at Malfoy, "Especially from a Slytherin PREFECT."

Again Malfoy stared at Snape, blankly unaffected. Nott opened his mouth to speak but Snape whirled nastily toward him. "NOT..A..WORD. I don't want to know what started this little melee; I couldn't care less. But be forewarned… If my class is ever interrupted as such by either of you two ever again, Slytherin or not, I'll have you expelled."

He whirled from them, striding inside and obviously expecting them to follow. Nott shot Malfoy a filthy look and made to head inside as well, but Malfoy stepped in front of him, piercing him with steely grey eyes. When he spoke his voice was low and very even.

"If I hear you speak about Ginny Weasley like that ever again, I'll tear you apart."

Nott wanted to point out that he'd got the rumour from reliable sources; that he'd got Ginny's reputation from none other than Draco Malfoy's very own father; his son's words passed on as a joke to Theodore's father during a Death Eaters meeting as a way of once again insulting the Weasley family. But something in the way Malfoy looked at him kept him silent.

As Theodore stepped around him to head into the classroom, Malfoy following, it occurred to him that Draco had finally chosen his side, and it most certainly did not seem to be the same Lucius Malfoy or most of the other Slytherins had chose.

Nott smiled grimly as he dumped himself into a seat and licked another droplet of blood absently from his lips. Draco might soon enough find out just how dangerous wrong choices could be; although it seemed he might have already done just that…

***********************************************

Surprisingly enough for Harry, Hermione and Ron, double Potions class went just as it did any other day that afternoon, with Snape either ignoring them as usual, or finding any excuse he could to belittle a Gryffindor, no matter who it was. He had never been particularly fussy about his victims unless it concerned Harry Potter.

As the three headed out from the classroom and towards Advanced DADA, surrounded by fifty or so Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years who couldn't stop talking on the row they'd seen before class, Ron took the opportunity to cross-examine Harry over what Snape had said to him to make him enter the classroom after them so angrily.

"He did WHAT!?" shouted Ron, incensed.

"Gave me detention," answered Harry. "The whole weekend…with Nott and Malfoy, no less."

Ron gripped his wand tighter in his hand, enraged. "What for!?"

" 'What for!?' It's obvious, isn't it?" Harry shot at him, pointedly. "For absobloodylutely nothing, that's what, the grotty git. He's never needed a reason, has he?"

Hermione gazed up at him with concern. "But Harry don't you have a match against Ravenclaw this wee…"

"We sure as hell do, and he knows it! Greasy scrote…" Ron interjected furiously.

Hermione blushed scarlet. "RON!"

Ron ignored her. "Harry, tell me you're going to Dumbledore on this…"

Harry paused. "No, I don't think so."

"What…Why not!?" Ron yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "Are you mad!? He'll overturn Snape for sure; he knows he's always shafting you! Anyway, you're Quidditch captain, mate. You have to be there."

"Ron," began Hermione in the tone that usually drove him completely mad. "I think Harry's taking this rather well. Whether or not Professor Snape was right in punishing him, Harry's showing him how to be adult in all this. In the end I think it'll be Professor Snape himself who'll feel ashamed."

Ron goggled at her as if she'd taken complete leave of her senses. Harry rather felt the same, although he decided it would be in his best interests not to show it.

If there was one thing Snape was not, it was humble. He would never admit he'd been wrong; in fact, when it came to punishing Harry, he had proven over and over he really didn't care. But Harry had never been one to concede defeat where the greasy git was concerned; he had his own agenda.

Ron turned his gobsmacked expression back to Harry. "So…You going to tell me WHY you're just going along with this or do you want to leave me in suspense?"

"Something strange happened between Malfoy and Nott while Snape was making everyone get back to the classroom," said Harry. "I want to find out what it was."

"What," smirked Ron. "Did they finally admit they were a couple of fairies and start snogging?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "Ron, for the love of Godric…"

"No," Harry smirked back at him. "Actually it was more something Malfoy did. Nott was banging on about Lucius opinion of his son now he's gone 'soft' and Malfoy sort of…rubbed at his arm, like something's happened. It's just a suspicion, but I'm curious all the same."

Hermione gawped up at him as they entered Lupin's classroom. "Harry…you don't think…"

"I dunno," said Harry more quietly as he nodded to his father and the three took seats near the front. "But it's worth checking. When else will I get the chance?"

Ron conceded with a sigh and finally nodded. "Alright then. I can be Quidditch captain for one game if you think it's important. Ginny'll have to play seeker again, I guess; she wasn't half bad…Not you, though…"

"Thanks mate."

Hermione took a moment to glance over Malfoy's way and then turned back to gaze at Harry and Ron. "Malfoy…a Death Eater? It sounds strange I know, but I've really never believed once it came down to it he'd actually take the mark."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "I just thought he'd be too chickenshit to do it."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed with a scandalised glower. Harry smirked playfully at her.

"Well if it's true I'm glad Ginny broke with the bloody gump," said Ron. "I don't care if he was defending her over whatever Nott said… I won't have him near her again."

He paused and glanced over to where Malfoy now sat at the back of the class, still battered but perched stoically upright in his desk. He shot him a vicious glare, but when Malfoy caught his gaze he merely sneered at him and looked away. Ron frowned. That was most certainly an un-Malfoy like thing to do; it was unlike him not to go farther with it… Just what had happened to him?

****************************************************

Saturday came round much too quickly for Harry, and since he was currently spooned so warmly with Hermione in his bed in the early morning grey-lighted room, he decided rather than leave to start his punishment himself, that he would make Snape send for him.

The smell of Hermione's hair, even the fabric of her pyjamas against his bare chest relaxed Harry into the familiar feeling of home. He wrapped an arm round her stomach and pushed his hand under her top rubbing slow circles on her stomach until he felt her stir against him. He tried backing his hips from her a bit as her movements began waking parts of his body he preferred to stay asleep at the moment, until he saw a smile creep onto her face.

Harry growled down at her and although her eyes were still closed, her smile widened.

"Enjoying yourself?" he whispered down to her.

Hermione cracked one eye open. "Tormenting you? Always."

"You're evil, you know."

"I know."

Harry decided to do a little tormenting himself and, before she knew what was happening, he had flipped her from her side onto her back, straddled her and pinned her arms beneath his knees.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh Harry, don't…"

"Don't what?" Harry asked innocently.

"Please, you know I can't stand it," begged Hermione desperately, squirming beneath him.

Harry flushed and adjusted his position. "Stop that!"

"What?"

"Stop moving like that!" said Harry flushing slightly. Hermione found a blushing barechested Harry cute as hell and couldn't resist moving again. Harry scowled down at her.

"Alright, you've done it. I was gonna be merciful but…"

Harry dug his fingers into her ribs and Hermione began laughing and wriggling even more until he found it almost impossible to keep her pinned underneath him without a certain part of him reacting. He rolled off her but still pulled her to him and attacked her sides.

Hermione screamed shrilly and tried wrapping her arms round her ribs but Harry simply attacked the back of her knees. "HARRY! Stop please! Stop, I'm sorry! Please!"

Harry grinned at her and grabbed an ankle, his fingernails running along the underside of her foot. "Apologise…"

"I DID!" Hermione cried, jerking spasmodically. Harry narrowly missed a kick to the face.

"I didn't hear it." Harry continued his torture.

"Yes you did, you git!" Hermione growled and then kicked and screamed again as Harry's fingers made it to the back of her thighs and pinched her butt. "Oh Merlin stop…STOP! I'M SORRY! PLEASE!"

Harry paused for a moment and Hermione fell back against the bed, breathing raggedly.

"Hmmm…"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Wh…what…"

"Tell me what a great wizard I am."

"You stuck-up clot," began Hermione, but Harry again raised claw-like hands and put them to her sides to tickle her.

"ALRIGHT!" Hermione laughed. "You're a great wizard."

Harry pretended to search her face for honesty. "How great?"

"The greatest ever born," said Hermione, and then let her eyes drag down his body and back up to his face and messy black hair appreciatively. "And the best looking, though I'm certainly biased."

Harry pretended to be satisfied and twisted as if to hop from the bed but then turned back to her. "Noooo…that won't do." He attacked her again.

Hermione laughed and screamed again as Harry wiggled his fingers into an armpit and then squeezed the base of her neck, grinning evilly. He knew all of her spots…

"HARRY! S..STOP IT RIGHT NOW, I M..MEAN IT!"

Harry laughed out loud as he attacked the back of her legs and again gave her butt a pinch. "Once more with feeling…"

"STOP IT YOU BLOODY GIT!"

Harry finally stopped his torture and fell back onto the bed laughing maniacally until Hermione threw herself onto him and began a frenzied attack on his own ribs. She loved it when he thrashed about and laughed high-pitched like a young boy…

The tickle torture soon grew into more passionate touching and before Hermione knew it, Harry had rolled her beneath him and both were kissing desperately. Very soon, his tongue began moving against hers in the same hot, slow, methodical way his hips were moving…

No… Hermione thought heatedly. Most definitely not a young boy…

He slid a hand down her side and hip and over to the inside of her thigh, feeling more than hearing her pant into his mouth. Damn her for moving like she was…

Harry slid his mouth from hers and steadily kissed a burning trail down her neck, suckling on her collarbone and lower. As he moved, his wild black hair tickled the side of her cheek and then under her chin, and Hermione felt a thrill travel from her chest straight downward. She gripped at his bare shoulders, marvelling to herself how painfully erotic such a small, normally insignificant thing could be…

Harry's hands moved to rest on the lightly covered, soft rounded sides of her breasts, his tongue and lips moving down the few open buttons of her nightshirt to lave its way between them. Hermione sighed and dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his back, sliding them up over his shoulders and down his defined chest to his nipples, bringing her mouth to his neck and suckling in just the way she knew he liked. He was so hard against her… She breathed in his unique scent, marvelling at how familiar she'd become with it…

Harry moved his mouth back to hers and felt her touch her tongue to his once again. Gods she tasted good, like honey…like Hermione…

He rolled her on top of him, his hands travelling over her back and sweeping over her butt, to pinch it again playfully. He felt her grin into his mouth and playfully dig a few fingers into his ribs. She pulled back to ask when he had decided to keep his wand in his boxers, and Harry replied with a naughty smirk that he had yet to use this particular 'magic wand' on her but was heartily looking forward to it.

He had just begun to describe the 'wood' it was made from when Hermione gave a scandalised huff and tackled him yet again.

They continued playing on for some time, snogging, laughing and tickling until both had rumpled the bed covers into a completely wrecked state.

A knock on the portrait door followed by a tiny voice: "Trespasser… Miscreant…Knave! Have at thee!" alerted them to the fact that playtime was over.

Harry let his head slam back to the pillow with a miserable muffled thud. "Time for detention…"

Hermione frowned sympathetically.

"Stand and fight! Beslubbering boar-pig! Coward!" CLANG! Cadogen must've fallen from his horse again…

"Shut up you little nutter!" Came a familiar muffled voice from the other side. "Harry open up mate, it's Ron…"

Harry threw some jeans on, padded to the door, and caught the familiar tiny 'swish, swish' of Cadogen's sword, followed by another clattering of armour. An evil grin spread slowly across his face. "Ron? How'd I know it's really you?"

"…What!? 'Course it's me! Who'd you think it is!?" Thwip! A tiny arrow sounded, followed by several more…

Harry smirked. "I dunno, your voice is a bit high for Ron… Professor McGonnagol, is that you?"

"Thou art an ill-bred molewart! I shall storm thy castle and seize thy native lands! A pox on thee!"

Ron huffed angrily. "Harry, you sod… Open up or I'll slice the titchy shortarse right from his portrait!"

Harry chuckled and swung the door open to reveal a scowling, greatly annoyed Ron gripping his wand and dressed in full Quidditch gear.

"Ho, ha ha! The coward flees the fight! The birds of prey shall feast on thine entrails!"

Ron stepped inside and slammed the portrait door shut behind him, punching Harry hard in the arm right after. Outside, Cadogen raved on.

"Bastard. When are you and Hermione gonna switch him with a SANE portrait!?"

"He grows on you." Harry shrugged noncommittally.

Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Right."

"Well I'm glad it's you," Harry grinned as a fully dressed Hermione came out from his room. "Wasn't quite ready for detention, you know."

"Well hold that thought mate," scowled Ron grumpily. "Snape met me as I was headed out with the team to practice. Thought it'd be right hilarious to send me for you, I guess. Says to be at his classroom in a half hour."

Harry's grin faded and he turned to see Hermione beaming approvingly at him. "I'm not doing this to be a better man, 'Mione. It's just information I want."

Ron smirked down at her.

"I know!" said Hermione gruffly. "But it doesn't hurt Professor Snape might see it that way, does it?"

Harry sighed.

*************************************************************

Harry dragged his feet, his hands jammed around his robes into the pockets of his worn jeans, and his damp hair, freshly washed from the shower he'd just taken, either sticking up all over the place or laying in clumps against his forehead. The long trudge to Snape's office was not a pleasant one, though Harry knew he could easily have told Dumbledore the situation and had the Potion professor's detention thrown out. But Harry had no wish to appear a spoiled little boy who tattled his abuse to the adoring Headmaster. The thought of it made him queasy. Besides if he had gone that route Snape would loathe him more than he had ever before done, and there was no reason to further fuel the Potion professors hatred of him.

As he walked, Harry's thoughts took a swift turn back to fifth year when he had been left alone in Snape's office during an Occlumency lesson, and he had dared rather recklessly to take a peek into the professor's pensieve left unguarded on his desk.

He remembered as he had seen into the misty silver depths, how his father's behaviour toward Snape had sickened him, and how unfair the attack on him had seemed. James, it appeared, had been arrogant and extremely fond of himself, and had decided in order to make himself appear better, especially where Lily Evans was concerned, that he would torment more unpopular students; even one's who seemed to have been minding their own business and did not deserve it. Harry's high opinion of his father had plunged drastically as of that moment, but Sirius had later on helped him realise he was only seeing Snape's biased memories in the pensieve, and what he had seen was not necessarily how the event had actually occurred. From then on, Harry had learned to be sceptical of the accuracy of any events seen in a pensieve as they could be skewed by the person's point of view.

After this, Harry had decided to reserve his opinion of his father until he had found out more from Sirius, and eventually, he did. Snape and James, much like Harry and Draco Malfoy, had been bitter enemies in school from the start, and were constantly after each other in one way or the other. James, it seemed, hated the dark arts, which Snape had been deeply involved with. Consequently, James had also wanted Snape kept as far away from Lily as possible. He'd never missed an opportunity to lessen Snape in her eyes, though most of the time, it only served to make her angry with him and sympathetic toward Snape.

Snape on the other hand, had been as infatuated with Lily Evans as James Potter, and in his own gruff, awkward way had unsuccessfully tried to woo her. He was also jealous of James and Sirius' popularity in school, though he had tried to mask it by making as if he hated who they were because of it.

Sirius' different point of view had served to make Harry think his father might have not been such a bad wizard after all; just normal. This was definitely a good thing, as he would learn two years later his father was still alive.

Harry paused outside the Potion master's classroom and closed his eyes for a few moments before entering. Time free to let one's brain wander where it would was not always necessarily a good thing. Today it had served only to remind Harry of the even more chaotic turn his life had taken recently, and the fact that with Voldemort's now renewed threat, the madness was far, far from over. He just hoped spending detention with Lucius Malfoy's son might give him some type of information into Voldemort's dealings.

Harry rapped sharply on the classroom door, averting his eyes rather embarrassed as two fifth year Ravenclaws passed by on their way to watch Gryffindor practice and gave him an odd look.

The door swung open and, much to Harry's non-surprise, Snape stood at the front along with a sullen Malfoy and Nott looking in a particularly nasty, but satisfied mood.

"Good you could join us, Potter. You're ten minutes late."

Harry ignored him and ambled up to the front, avoiding Malfoy and Nott's gazes much as they were avoiding his.

Snape waltzed round his desk and yanked out from behind it a large, black cauldron, slamming it down on the first table he came upon. He then turned and gestured towards the huge bookshelf lining the east wall of the classroom.

"I've acquired a great lot of specimens throughout my years as a Potion's master. The top shelves consist of dried roots, plants and such, but the bottom shelves hold ingredients which must be suspended in a preserving solution."

Harry eyed row upon row of slimed, sometimes scaly looking plants and creatures floating in jars of murky yellowish fluid and felt his stomach give an odd churn. He could only imagine the stench that must come from one of those opened jars. That might explain Snape's particular scent, he thought with a smirk of satisfaction. Both Nott and Malfoy looked a bit sickened as well.

To Harry's regret, Snape had been studying him.

"I'm glad you find this amusing Potter. We'll see if through the weekend you can keep that smile." Snape narrowed his eyes at the three and pointed lazily at the cauldron and then back at the bookshelf. "You three will be brewing a new vat of pickling potion to re-preserve each and every one of these."

Nott blanched. "Professor Snape there's got to be at least two hundred jars there!"

"And that's why I've been so gracious as to allow you the whole weekend to accomplish it, Theodore." He smiled genuinely at the way all three faces suddenly fell and whirled to stride toward a bookshelf across the room. After a moment of searching the shelves, he plucked out a thick, dusty black volume and walked back over to toss it onto the desk with a loud bang. The Complete Primer of Preserving Potions stared back at them in large gold letters from the book's cover.

"I was quite dreading this task, I have to admit," continued Snape as he made lazily for the classroom door. "Luckily for me you three fell into it. In that book will be all the instruction you will need, along with every ingredient you'll need in the usual supply cabinet. Certain of the items you may find will require a different potion. If I find upon my return this evening you three were lazy in your research and have destroyed any of my specimens, the consequences will be most dire. Good day."

The door shut behind him with a loud snap, and Harry, Draco and Theodore were left to scowl nastily at one another.

********************************************

Some three hours later, Harry took a moment from sweating over the steaming cauldron to glance up at Snape's classroom clock. It was one in the afternoon, and as if in reply to Nott's constant complaining about lunch, his stomach growled angrily at him. But as he continued to stir the foul smelling concoction counter-clockwise, Harry was sure the Potion's master would not suddenly decide to grow a conscience and offer them a break to eat. Apparently Malfoy had decided the same.

"Shut your gob Nott, for the love of Salazar," snapped Malfoy roughly as he used a gloved hand to pluck a slimy, dead creature from it's dirty solution and plop it unceremoniously into a jar full of clean stuff. "We're not getting lunch; stop whining."

"I never had breakfast either…"

"Neither did I," said Harry. "Get over it."

Nott growled as he dipped and filled another jar and sent it sliding dangerously toward Malfoy, who grabbed it just before it went crashing to the floor. He slammed it down and turned to scowl dangerously.

"Watch it, you filthy smeg! You want us in more trouble!?"

"Wouldn't have done in the first place if you'd kept your ruddy head about you, you stupid lombard!" Nott dropped the dipping ladle and whirled furiously on Malfoy. "What's with you, anyway!? Coming to the Gryffinwhore's aid…"

Harry whitened with rage. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL…"

But Malfoy roared furiously and lunged at Nott landing a few well-placed punches before Harry could jump at them and finally throw them apart.

"Don't touch me, Scarhead!" roared Draco taking a swing at him as well. Harry threw up his arm and caught the punch on his tricep, shoving Malfoy back at the same time.

"GET OFF IT!" Harry thundered at them. "You want Snape giving us another weekend of detention!?"

Nott, breathing heavily and swiping at yet another bloody lip, spoke up sarcastically. "Oh what…is Potter the Great coming to put an end to the madness again? Go on then, sort us out."

But Harry merely glared furiously at him. "What's all this 'Gryffinwhore' shit you're banging on about!?"

Malfoy gritted his teeth, completely enraged, but Nott merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Harry with a smirk. "Don’t tell me you haven't dipped your wick, Potter. Ginny Weasley's drooled after you for years. Been having a bit of the afternoon delight, aye?"

This time around, it was Malfoy who pulled Harry from Nott, but only after a few punches to the face. Harry shoved him away angrily and stabbed a finger at Nott.

"You bloody bastard! I hear you say anything like that again and I'll rip you a new arsehole unless Ron gets there first! Ginny's like my sister!"

Nott stood shakily, holding his stomach and gesturing toward Malfoy. "Maybe," he grunted. "But Malfoy might tell you different."

Malfoy straightened and lifted his chin reflexively, but Harry could swear he saw a bit of guilt in his eyes.

Harry speared him with a dangerous glare. "You tell me what he's on about or so help me I'll rip you both in two. Or worse, I'll let Ron at you."

Malfoy sneered at him. "You could try."

Harry took a step toward him. "Don't tempt me…"

Malfoy worked his jaw thoughtfully and stared from Nott to Harry, who looked ready to kill. He made his decision quickly and pulled out his wand.

Harry raised a hand, prepared to counter-attack when Malfoy aimed it toward Nott, whose mouth suddenly went slack.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Nott's body snapped together, suddenly rigid, and slammed backward to the floor with a loud thud. His eyes, large with surprise, stared unseeing at the cobwebs waving from the ceiling.

Harry glanced a bit confused from one to the other, and Malfoy watched as he slowly lowered his hand.

"Forgot about the wandless magic," sneered Malfoy sarcastically, shoving his wand back into his robes. "Potter the Great seems an appropriate name, doesn't it?"

"Slag off," said Harry testily. He turned toward the cauldron he'd forgotten and scourgified the now thick green contents with a wave of his hand. The mess disappeared instantly, and he turned back toward Malfoy who now sat perched lazily on the edge of a desk.

"I lied to my father," said Malfoy simply.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "About?"

"Ginny," Malfoy sighed.

Harry set his jaw angrily and glared at him. Draco seemed to honestly regret it, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be fooled. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep calm. "And she thought you really cared for her…"

"I DO!" bellowed Draco suddenly bolting upright.

"THEN WHY!?"

"Because father found out about us, that's why!" continued Draco, suddenly beginning a frustrated pace about the room. "I tried to break with her before anyone could see and let him in on it…"

"You mean any of the other damn Slytherins," said Harry with a contemptuous sneer.

"Yeah Potter… the other damn Slytherins," Draco whirled on him with a hard sarcasm to his voice and jabbed a finger toward the rigid prone form of Nott. "But that bastard had already told his father, who let mine in on, you see?"

Harry stood. "They're both in the same costume club, I guess," he shot out sarcastically. "Black hoods and slitted eyes, right?"

"You're missing the point as usual, Scarhead," seethed Malfoy.

"Enlighten me," Harry growled back.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him and made a fist as if to punch something from frustration. "I had to make father believe Ginny was just a…distraction."

"So you thought you'd take the easy way out, and now half the school thinks Ginny's some sort of slag," Harry shot back.

"Easy way out…" Malfoy whirled back toward him, a look of utter hatred on his face and took a step forward, but seemed to think better of it in an instant. For one brief moment he'd raised a hand as if to touch his bicep again but caught himself in time and dropped it. "You don't know shit, Potter."

But Harry hadn't missed the sudden movement, nor had he missed the expression that had flitted over Malfoy's face when he'd realised what he'd almost given away. He leaned against Professor Snape's desk, watching Malfoy carefully.

"You think you had it so bloody awful growing up," Malfoy continued, looking so full of hate he seemed sick with it. "Having to live with Muggles; knowing your parents were killed by some mental evil wizard who's out to get you now, aye? Poor, sad Potter…that's what everyone thinks, don't they? D'you love all the sympathy you get, Scarhead? D'you love being everyone's bloody hero? D'you stay awake at night thinking on your dead parents; the ones who loved you so..very..much…"

"D'you wish your father was dead?" asked Harry quietly with a blank expression.

"My father is dead, Potter. He's been dead to me for years…just not quite dead enough." Malfoy stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Harry. "What the hell are you on about? As if your fussed over anything I want. And the feeling is wholly mutual, you can be sure."

Harry had never seen someone as consumed with hatred, though he felt as if he sometimes bordered on it when an image of Voldemort burned in his thoughts. The look of pure loathing burning in Malfoy's eyes told Harry much more than what he needed to know. "So you want to kill him, is that it?"

Draco fisted his hands and snarled at Harry. "D'you have a point Scarhead or d'you actually think you're that fascinating to…"

"Is it because he gave you the dark mark?" said Harry finally.

And Malfoy suddenly stopped every motion he'd made, his face completely draining of colour.

Harry watched him work his jaw, a thousand different conflicting emotions crossing his face as if he were a theatre screen set on fast forward. He clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively, his eyes darting from every corner of the room, to Nott now moving a bit on the floor, to the door behind Harry as if possibly contemplating escape. He looked as if he had no where to run.

Nott sat up slowly, his eyes fixed on the two young men facing each other. But rather than the look of confusion Harry and Malfoy had expected, Theodore's eyes were widened with triumph, and since the spell was now fully worn off he stood, although slowly owing to the hard fall he'd taken.

"You do know the petrifaction charm does nothing toward a person's hearing," he breathed out, his face a mirror of excitement. He moved toward the other two sneering, and gave a short scoffing laugh. "Knew it moment we fought in the hallway, but until now I've had no proof. I saw you grab at your arm when I'd got hold of it, Malfoy… Guess daddy wouldn't let his son embarrass OR betray him, would he?"

At the sudden murderous look on Malfoy's face, Harry knew he might be contemplating something desperate and shifted a bit where he was, ready to take action if necessary. But Malfoy and he were roughly the same build and height…

Malfoy stood, eyeing Nott with a very dangerous snarl. "You say a WORD to anyone on ANY of this you grotty little bastard and…"

"What…" Nott chuckled derisively. "You try anything else and you'll be chucked out of Hogwarts so fast you won't know until your arse hits the street. And now you have nowhere to go, do you? Poor little rich wizard… There's loads of people who'd love to hear this, I think…"

Malfoy moved toward him with fists raised, all thoughts of using his wand gone from his head as his body throbbed with fury. But Nott whipped out his own wand and aimed it, cocking his head at him. Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"Scared I've got something on you now, Malfoy? You should be…I'm telling the first load of Slytherins I come across…"

"Obliviate!"

Nott suddenly blinked, confused, and then took a few moments to stare blankly ahead. Malfoy whirled around.

"No your not," said Harry simply, lowering his hand.

Malfoy stared at him with not a trace of appreciation and instead, scowled angrily. "I don't need your help, damn it. I can take care of my own bloody problems…"

"Bullshit," said Harry.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but next moment the door to the classroom banged open and both boys jumped back, expecting an angry Snape to begin hexing them for their lack of anything to show for hours spent 'working'.

Professor McGonnagol rushed in, her black teachers robes billowing behind her. With her nostrils flaring, her lips set in a thin line, and her face white with fear, even Nott, who still looked as if he wasn't sure where the last half hour had just gone, could tell something was drastically wrong.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but she waved her hands frantically at him. "No time Potter. Come with me, NOW."

"Professor, I'm in detention," said Harry. "If I leave, Snape'll have my head…"

"Charlie, Bill and Arthur Weasley were just attacked," said McGonnagol briskly, her voice cracking a bit. "Dumbledore wants to see you straight away."

Both Harry and Malfoy started with surprise, but for very different reasons, and Harry ran out of the room after her, leaving Malfoy thinking more heavily than he had done even previously, on Ginny.

*************************************************

A/N: Sorry this took soooooooooo long guys. I've been super busy. I know you want to hit me in the head with a bludger now, but this is another long chapter so I hope that makes up for it. Send howlers to the North Pole.

29. Chapter 29: First Victims

Chapter 29: First Victims

Harry pounded quickly down the dimly lit hallways after Professor McGonnagol, whose face was tightly drawn and very pale; and although he was now a good three inches taller than her, he was surprised at the difficulty he was having keeping up with her pace.

Charlie, Bill and Mr. Weasley attacked… an image of their bodies, hopelessly mangled and twisted almost beyond recognition, flashed in his mind as he ran. A cold shiver travelled through Harry's body. If they were dead, well… he knew whose fault it would be.

They came to an abrupt halt in front of the twin stone gargoyles that marked the entranceway to Dumbledore's office. McGonnagol was completely breathless after running, and rightly so owing to her age, so Harry barked out 'sherbet lemon' for her.

The gargoyles leapt aside, and the stone staircase behind them suddenly groaned to life, scraping and grinding its way upward. Harry and Professor McGonnagol hopped a step and were wound swiftly upward toward Dumbledore's office, finally stopping on the warmly lit first floor.

Harry was not surprised to see Ron and Ginny already there waiting. The late afternoon sun streamed orange and dark yellow through the great window behind Dumbledore's desk, illuminating both of their equally stricken expressions as they paced trails into the scarlet carpet of the room; both dressed in moderately soiled Quidditch gear. Ron glanced up from chewing on his nails to see Harry and McGonnagol enter and dropped his hand to quickly stride over to Harry.

"You've heard?"

Harry nodded, noting with concern how Ron's face had paled to such a shade of white that his brown freckles stood out sharply in contrast. Ginny's less dotted complexion was equally as pale, though long wet trails now marred her pink cheeks.

"Professor, any news?" Ginny asked with dread as she strode toward Professor McGonnagol.

"Not yet," said McGonnagol grimly, "but he's only just left, Ms. Weasley. We must give the Headmaster time to meet with the rest of the Aurors to find out exactly what your father and brothers were doing; and more importantly, where they were when attacked. It'll be vital information for the Order's next move."

Ron whirled angrily on her and yelled. "But we don't even know if they're dead or alive! He could at least come back and let us in on that bit before he just sends a message our family's been attacked and runs off to investigate the whole bloody thing!"

McGonnagol sighed in understanding. "Ronald, the note Professor Dumbledore received was scrawled out so quickly; whoever wrote it obviously had no time to go into detail. The fact of the matter is when the Headmaster portkeyed for St. Mungo's he himself knew nothing of their states. As soon as he has word he'll let us in on straight away, I'm sure. He doesn't want you left in agony any more than I do."

She eyed them sympathetically as they stood closely together looking by all accounts, lost. "Try not to worry until we've got word… Please, won't you two have a seat…try to calm down a bit?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly still staring at the carpet as she paced. For his part, Ron goggled at the Professor with such disbelief that she felt forced to look away.

"So he's not even here?" said Harry, finally able to edge into the conversation.

McGonnagol shook her head and made her way round Dumbledore's dark polished desk to plop wearily into the wingback chair. "Fortunately I was here with him when he received the message or you three wouldn't be here even now. He had just enough time to tell me to have you three waiting in his office when he returned before he left straight to London for the hospital."

No sooner had the words finished leaving her mouth than a huge, bright green fire erupted in the grate of the fireplace with a loud whooshing sound, leaving after it a cloud of smoky ash, and a rolled up piece of parchment.

Ron practically dove for it and grabbed it up, tearing at the small red tie holding it closed. Ginny, Harry and Professor McGonnagol quickly gathered round, all peering anxiously down at it.

Minerva,

Have Ronald and Virginia portkey to St. Mungo's

straight away. Molly Weasley will be in the lobby waiting

for them. Harry and Hermione may accompany them if

they wish it. I should return shortly; until that time

please act as Headmistress in my stead.

Albus Dumbledore, H.M.

Ginny slapped her hands over her mouth and gave a sudden muffled sob. "Oh gods… If they were alright he would've said in the note… he would've said, I KNOW IT! Oh gods Ron… "

Ron looked very much as if he agreed with her and only had the energy at the moment to wrap a hand about her trembling shoulders.

McGonnagol's eyes quickly swept the office for some suitable object to be used as a porkey, when they finally landed on Dumbledore's purple and gold starred nightcap hanging limply near his dressing gown on a coat rack in the corner. Finding it to be as good as anything else, she grabbed it and headed towards the three teens standing and staring miserably at each other.

Ron's frightened gaze locked with Harry's as the professor approached. "I guess…m..maybe they were the first targets."

Harry screwed up his face in an attempt to control himself, feeling very much as if he would like nothing more than to melt down into the hardwood floor of Dumbledore's office and dissolve until he was no more.

He desperately wanted to run to them before they vanished into disorientating swirls from the portkey; to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness for allowing them and their family into his life, and as a result, for dooming them to danger and possible death. But the shame that tightened his throat, stung his eyes, and churned coldly in his stomach, only allowed him to stand and stare.

Ron swallowed and spoke hoarsely. "You'll be following us over, then?"

Harry paused quietly.

"If you want."

Ron frowned at him. "Wh… 'course we do… And bring Hermione too, all right?" He looked down at Ginny who stared ahead, terrified. "We'll be needing the both of you, I think."

McGonnagol moved tentatively toward Ron and Ginny and handed him the nightcap. He held it limply in his hands.

"Both of you grab onto it," she said in a strained voice, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the cap. "Y…You'll arrive in the front lobby of the hospital, so…so no worries…Portus!"

Ron and Ginny's forms appeared swirled and disfigured before Harry, until they both coiled into nonexistence with a loud *pop*.

As soon as the both of them had vanished, McGonnagol turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You may go get Ms. Granger now, Mr. Potter. I'll still be here when you return. You can leave straight away."

Harry nodded, feeling as if his head had been stuffed with cotton. Too many emotions fought for control of his thoughts, but guilt and fear raged louder than the others in his mind. They pounded in his head like a resounding deep drum, screaming accusations from the darkest recesses of his mind like a jury that had always lurked there, just waiting to pass judgement. His fault… their lives were on his head… all his fault…

As if in a dream, he moved heavily toward the stone archway that loomed over the downward spiralling staircase, but stopped at a hand that gripped his shoulder.

"Something for you to think on as you go," said McGonnagol; her voice a mixture of compassion and reason.

Harry froze in place, neither turning nor moving.

"Just you remember who did this, you hear me?" Harry nodded miserably once and moved as if to continue on, but she gripped his sturdy shoulder again. "No, look at me, Potter… You..did..not..DO..this. You are NOT to blame. You have no more control over Voldemort's actions than you have over the sun and stars." Her nostrils flared angrily as she continued. "He's held command of your life and emotions for too long, Harry. Don't you give him any more, you hear me? Don't you do it."

Harry found that it had become almost impossibly hard to breathe. He barely heard her as he gently pulled his shoulder from her grasp to jog down the moving staircase into the cold hallways of the school, leaving her, and her empty well-meaning words behind.

As he ran toward the common room he shared with Hermione, Harry felt cold dread begin to trickle down his spine. So it had begun. Voldemort's hatred and jealousy of him had finally begun to catch up with those he loved. Who would be next? Another Weasley; Ron perhaps, his father, Sirius… Hermione?

Harry's every nerve ending electrified with fear. He would NOT ALLOW IT. No matter what he had to do or what he had to sacrifice, he would NOT ALLOW IT. They meant too much…Great Merlin, SHE meant too much. Hermione was worth everything. She was priceless.

Harry passed several students as he jogged past, including Colin Creevey who miserably avoided his gaze, as usual. He passed Snape as well, noting quickly how the Professor looked immediately torn at the thought that his normally rotten behaviour toward Harry was for now, inappropriate. He settled for cold impatience.

"Don't think you're out of detention now Potter," Snape called severely after him. "Tomorrow morning I'll expect you in my classroom."

Harry suppressed the urge to tell him where he could go and decided on ignoring him.

He finally reached his and Hermione's rooms, calling out the password to Sir Cadogen quick enough so as to avoid yet again being challenged to a duel. He could practically feel Cadogen's disappointed frown from beneath his visor.

As he stepped inside, it took Harry only a quick glimpse of Hermione perched on the common room couch to guess what she had been doing. Her wavy hair sat piled atop her head in a messy bun secured by a spare quill, and opened books and parchments littered the area surrounding her. In a lesser situation, Harry would have grinned fondly at her only seconds before tackling her to the floor and snogging her breathless.

Now however, he found himself oddly distant.

Hermione frowned up at him as he approached. "Harry? Surely you've not done with detention already…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but as he looked at her, he found that his throat was too tightly constricted. She sat in front of the glowing fire, her smooth skin and large doe eyes lit with orange and dancing with flame shadows…She was so beautiful, so alive… and he was so unworthy of her…

Hermione noted the strained look on his face and her heart leapt to her throat. She was on her feet and near him in an instant, grasping his hands. "Harry, what is it love… What's happened, tell me…"

"Mr. Weasley," Harry choked out finally. "Bill and Charlie…They've been attacked."

Hermione blanched. "Oh my god…Oh god are..are they…"

"Dunno," said Harry thickly. "I don't know how they are. Dumbledore's already sent for Ron and Ginny. We're to meet them at St. Mungo's."

Hermione swallowed hard, tears now sliding down her cheeks. She moved to circle her arms about him. "Oh Harry…"

But Harry pulled back from her as if her touch burned his skin. "No…no, don't. Don't feel bad for me, Hermione. Save it for Ginny and Ron; they're the ones who need you now, not me."

Hermione studied him carefully as he held her at arms length, avoiding her eyes. Somehow, it terrified her. "But…the Weasley's are like family to you…"

Harry moved from her and grabbed up her cloak, helping her into it. He knew she was staring at him, bewildered, and still he couldn't bring himself to look at her. As an afterthought, he gently pulled the quill from her hair to allow it to tumble free once more. He knew she would forget to take it out.

"LIKE family, Hermione," he said flatly. "But they're not really mine, are they? I have no right to them."

Hermione stared at him and somehow, for some unknown reason, fear began to simmer within her, like a warning signal zinging from every nerve.

Harry shook his head and moved toward the portrait door, his steady façade now built like a wall around him. "Let's go; they'll be needing us."

**************************************

It was strange to Harry, to suddenly appear in the busy reception area of St. Mungo's. The last time he had been here along with the Order, they had walked along the bustling streets of London before stopping in front of an old-fashioned, red brick department store known as Purge and Dowse, Ltd. He had found himself then, staring into the eyes of a shabbily dressed female mannequin that had seemed to have seen better days, before one of the Order had spoken to her. She had then, to Harry's immense surprise, given them a slight nod and beckoned them forward to walk through her glass window; a window that, as they had passed through it, felt to them like a sheet of icy water.

They had come to see Mr. Weasley then too, although that time it had been only him, wounded by Voldemort's incredibly large python, Nagini. At least that time circumstances had turned out all right. Somehow though, Harry felt this time would not turn out the same.

Despite himself, Harry held tightly onto Hermione's hand as they wound their way through the crowd of patients and healers clad in lime-green, to stand in queue behind a few others in front of the reception desk.

A couple of spots in front of them stood a wizard with a small child who had obviously contracted a bad case of dragon pox. He continually pushed her small hand away as she tried to scratch at the scaly spots on her skin. Behind them a wizard, with the long, thin orange legs of a chicken, and a witch, whose body had been mostly turned into a cow, were still bickering loudly with one another. It didn't take many guesses to figure what their argument had been about.

Hermione had just enough time to goggle and point out a slightly red-faced teenaged wizard who had yards of engorged tongue wrapped about one arm as he was led away (Merlin, Harry…d'you think…Fred and George?) before it was their turn to approach the welcome witch.

She was a plump blonde witch dressed in the same lime-green uniform with a crossed bone and wand badge resting on her ample bosom. Her expression was almost blank with boredom as she let her eyes rake blandly over the young couple.

"Well… You two don't look injured. Here to see someone, then?"

Harry swallowed, once again trying to fight around the lump in his throat to speak.

"Arthur, Bill and Charlie Weasley," Hermione supplied quietly for him and squeezed his hand. Harry looked gratefully at her.

The witch took her wand and waved it briefly over the large tattered, yellow ledger in front of her, watching dully as it's pages began to flip by themselves. They stopped fluttering and landed toward the back, and she began tracing down the page with her wand, muttering to herself. Hermione held herself on tiptoe, curious to see how St. Mungo's patient tracking system worked, though Harry had a good view of the book, and the welcome witches suddenly more serious expression.

"Weas…oh. Oh! Oh, Weasley…I umm… This is… is your first time visiting the Weasleys, I gather…"

Harry frowned suspiciously at her. "Yeah, 'course it is. They were only admitted a few hours ago."

"Please, we'd like to see them now," said Hermione urgently.

But the witch only smiled comfortingly to her. "They're on the fourth floor, intensive care unit. But just you let me call the Weasley's Healer first. It might be a good idea for him to talk with you a bit before visiting, I think. If you'll just budge to the side for a moment… that's the way," she waved to the right of her desk. "I'll page him now; he'll be here shortly."

But Harry was having none of it. "What aren't you telling us? What's happened?" A bit behind him, Hermione was beginning to pale.

"Healer Jabilo will be with you shortly," said the blonde witch almost desperately, "Please, he'll explain everything if you'll just wait for him to arrive…"

"Wait my arse," said Harry through gritted teeth. He turned to tell Hermione he was going to head to the fourth floor and find them himself, but she was no longer behind him.

He took a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the crowd when they finally fell on her familiar brown head of curls standing near the lifts, though she was not alone. Harry's father now stood beside her, where both were engaged in conversation. He lifted his head when Hermione pointed Harry's way, and recognition sparked on his face. He waved him over, and Harry moved swiftly to join them. He hadn't even known his father had been informed...

Upon reaching them, he could tell James had been crying. It scared the hell out of him.

"Dad?"

But Lupin merely took Harry by the shoulder. "Come with me, son. Ron's been waiting for you."

He and Hermione entered the lift with him, and as the doors closed on them, Harry knew instinctively that he would rather wait the few moments it took to get to the fourth floor before hearing the bad news. At least for those few moments, they were blissfully unaware.

Upon reaching their desired floor, they walked on, passing numerous doors bearing the names of witches and wizards who had been incorrectly or almost fatally jinxed or hexed with one irremovable spell or another. However, all Harry could allow in his line of vision was the large orange door of the magical intensive care unit looming larger and larger before them as they walked.

The intensive care unit was full of curtained off areas, with healers, their helpers, and relatives of the sick or injured milling about, all looking hopeless and sad. As they passed the warded off areas, they saw loads of patients, all hooked up to one intricate looking machine or another; some awake, some not, and some looking as if they were only just grasping on to life.

Mrs. Weasley's swollen red eyes were the first Harry finally recognised amidst the crowd. Past her, members of the Order stood morosely nearby, though Ginny and Ron were no where in sight.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed, suddenly bustling toward him and squeezing him tightly to her. "Harry, you came...and you too, Hermione. Thank you, thank you…"

Harry stood there woodenly and let her hug him, thinking to himself that she should rather want to hurt him.

"Th...thank you James, I knew they'd probably be down there." She whispered to Lupin, and then turned back to Harry and Hermione, her expression full of pain. "I would rather have you told by myself or R..Ron o..or Ginny…"

Lupin patted Mrs. Weasleys arm, and Hermione looked from one to the other, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I...I've seen it s..so often in my dreams, but somehow... somehow I j..just never really saw it coming. And even after all of the w..wards and charms on the house, it made no d..difference...my god...my god, why..."

Mrs. Weasley was rapidly coming apart, and Hermione suddenly grabbed her in a hug, and then held her at arms length, watching her face twist in agony.

"Please Mrs. Weasley... Tell us what's happened…"

But she had already dissolved into tears and would have fallen to the floor had Harry and his father not caught her in time. Lupin helped her to a seat, when Harry and Hermione saw Fred, and then George walk slowly out from behind one of the curtains. Both faces were a picture of misery as George saw them and waved them over, and the absence of that usual mischievous smirk somehow made Harry sick. He'd never experienced George and Fred like this; it was almost as if he didn't know them.

With Lupin left to console Molly, Harry and Hermione moved tentatively over toward the others. Were it not for the presence of the Order, they would have felt like outsiders, intruding on a family in mourning. But the twins immediately ushered them inside where Ginny and Ron sat closely together in-between two beds, their backs turned. The absence of the third bed was immediately noticed.

"They need you," said Fred quietly. He moved Harry and Hermione inside and let the flap of the heavy sheet drop shut behind them.

Ron and Ginny turned, having heard the noise behind them, and Harry was shocked to see that not only Ginny, but Ron had been crying so hard, his eyes and nose were swollen and red.

"Got them while they were headed out on w..watch... for the Order, you know."

Harry plunged his hands into the pockets of his cloak, turning his eyes upward, his face screwed up in an attempt to keep himself from breaking. He had no right to it... He had no right, they weren't his...

Ginny stood and stumbled toward Hermione, who immediately took her into her arms where both girls began crying.

"Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Bill always had the worst temper," said Ron as he held his father's hand from one bed, and Charlie's from the other. Both laid still and pale, tubes and magical devices dripping and beeping all around them. "If he hadn't taken the last one on, Dad would be dead. Was just about to be killed when Bill took the bastard over. I...imagine he gave as good as he got you know... B..before he died."

And Harry's heart sunk like a stone. He had hoped, prayed even, that Bill's absence only meant he had been sent to some other ward; some ward to deal with spells not done here… But somehow, he had known. Mrs. Weasley had lost a son; it had been evident on her face the moment they had clapped eyes on her.

Ron looked up at Harry, and in that moment he looked by all accounts, completely lost. "Thanks for coming, mate. I..we... need you here. You're family, after all."

Harry winced. Family… The word stabbed him as if it were a blade. He turned his gaze back to Hermione and she met his eyes over Ginny's shoulder, her gaze red and watery.

And upon seeing her eyes, Harry broke. He could barely breathe past the painful lump in his throat. His chest constricted and hitched over and over as hot tears splashed down his cheeks. He shook his head as overwhelmed, he stared down at the tile floor. Bill had died because Voldemort wanted to taunt Harry, plain and simple.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, James, the rest of the Weasleys…Surely they would all soon come to realise how all along, he had been selfish in allowing them to love him. He should have refused them when they insisted on being with him. Instead of thinking of his own needs, he should have left them to live their lives in relative peace and safety. He had known all along that some time, a time when he least expected it, his self-service would result in the harm of those he had kept close to him. He had been too weak; he had broken. He had allowed people into his life, and as a result, they were all now beginning to pay. And the price was too immeasurably high.

He tried to speak clearly, but his throat could only strangle out a whisper. "Ron…"

"Don't Harry," said Ron quietly, beckoning a hand out to him. "Don't. Just come sit with us."

Hermione led Ginny to a chair next to Harry and moved to Ron, where she leaned over and hugged him from behind. Ron sagged into the hug gratefully.

Harry sat immobile as a statue staring at Mr. Weasley and Charlie, feeling the complete irony of a situation totally reversed from his childhood. For once, he was surrounded by too many caring souls.

******************************************

A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but it's all that belonged here. I'm sorry readers but things are going to get worse… It's how I feel the real war will be. *sobs uncontrollably!* I hope you aren't too angry with me, but I feel for the story to be plausible, I have to make it as real as possible, even though I hate it. The final war is fast approaching…

30. Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

Chapter 30: An Island, Alone

No Man Is an Island

Traditional / by Ingemar Olsson

" ...No man is an island, no man stands alone

Each man's joy is joy to me

Each man's grief is my own

We need one another, so I will defend

Each man as my brother

Each man as my friend."

"Harry…" Hermione tried quietly.

But still he said nothing, a miserable, strained expression on his face, and moved determinedly forward in the now torchlit halls of the school towards their quarters. Hermione swallowed painfully. They had spent the remainder of the day in the intensive care ward of St. Mungo's with the Weasleys until Mrs. Weasley had made them leave, only due to pure exhaustion. They had protested, exclaiming over and over that they would rather stay for Ron, Ginny and the twins; to be there when Mr. Weasley and Charlie came out from their unconscious states, but Mrs. Weasley had been insistent. Tomorrow was Sunday, she had reminded them, and they were well in need of a day of rest. She had promised Ron and Ginny would be back with them soon as for now they were staying nights at the Burrow, and had even managed to choke out that she would floo Dumbledore information for them on Bill's funeral arrangements before she had fallen completely apart again, supported on either side by Fred and George.

They had portkeyed back to Dumbledore's office where he had been waiting for them, but the wise Headmaster had decided with one swift glance over Harry, that he was in no shape to discuss anything this night.

The day had been horrific enough without knowing Harry blamed himself for Bill's death. It was too much to handle. And if it was too much for her, Hermione knew Harry must be in absolute agony.

He had been distant and almost silent all day long, and though Hermione was not a skilled Legilimense by any stretch of the imagination, she had known Harry for so long she could practically read him inside and out. She could almost see the thoughts playing out on his face.

Their hands stayed clasped together as they walked, but Harry held hers loosely and far enough away from his body so that when their arms swayed they would not brush against one another. Almost as if human contact burned him; as if he was unworthy of it; as if he was sure now his company, possibly even his very touch was a prelude to doom.

And the thought that Harry felt these things was so evident to Hermione that she felt sick with it.

Harry even managed to enter their common room completely ignoring the insane antics of Sir Cadogen as they brushed past him. He made to let go of Hermione's hand and began heading immediately toward his room, but she would have none of it.

"Harry, stop."

"It's late Hermione; I'm tired…We can talk in the morning." He managed to release her hand and turned to move toward his door.

Hermione stared at his back for a moment. "Whose room do you want to sleep in?"

Harry's posture went rigid then, and tears quickly stung Hermione's eyes. He turned slowly to her, managing to avoid her gaze, and slouched as if under some heavy load, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I…maybe I should…We'll get more sleep if we…go it alone, I think."

He raised his eyes only slightly and gazed at her from under wet lashes until her face, surrounded by orange firelight, began to crumble.

Acting on instinct he began to move quickly toward her, but then caught himself before he gathered her to him, looking for a moment as if he was unsure what to do with his arms.

"Hermione, I don't...Please don't cry..."

She breathed in deeply. "It's not for me, Harry…"

Harry blinked. "I know today's been hard...I just thought, if we... separated ourselves a bit, we could find some perspective..."

"I don't need perspective, I can see perfectly clear," said Hermione suddenly quite certain as she raised wet eyes to him. She breathed in again to calm herself. "I won't let you do this, Harry."

Harry backed away from her a few steps and hardened his expression, still avoiding her eyes. "I don't know what you mean. It's been a long day, Hermione. We both need to sleep."

Hermione grabbed his hand before he could get any further and pierced him with a gaze. "I won't let you do it, Harry. I won't let you go."

"Hermione..."

"No," she said calmly. "Come sit with me."

"I don't want to!"

"What?"

"Sit!… I want to be alone!" He said finally, frantically, and then mumbled out the rest quietly. "… I have to be alone."

Hermione shook her head. "No you don't."

"You don't understand…"

"I do," she said quietly. "More than you know. I know you, Harry."

Harry worked his jaw and then mumbled quietly. "You shouldn't."

Hermione peered at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Forget it," said Harry as he made to walk to his room again.

However, Hermione grabbed his hand again. "No, it's not nothing, Harry! What'd you mean 'I shouldn't'? Shouldn't what?"

And Harry whirled on her and lost it. "YOU SHOULDN'T KNOW ME! I should never have ALLOWED it! What will being close to me get you, Hermione? I mean be honest; what has it ever got anyone!? It gets you closer to losing your life prematurely, that's what! Every person I touch that BASTARD takes away! It's only a matter of time before it's Sirius, my dad, Ron or another Weasley and MY GOD did you SEE Molly today!? And Ron and Ginny and Fred and George…I did that Hermione…I..DID..THAT! I let them in! D'you think he would've picked the Weasley's as a target if he didn't know they're like family to me!? If he didn't know I love them!?" Harry's deep voice cracked with emotion and Hermione found that she almost couldn't take the suffering in it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she moved toward Harry to hold him, but he backed quickly from her.

First it had been that Harry felt unworthy of love, and now, when he finally had it, after she and Ron had spent years making him understand he was worthy of it, he felt the only way to keep those around him safe was to deny himself of it. The irony of it nauseated her.

"Harry," said Hermione franticly, "Please try to understand…"

"And you…gods Hermione…if anything happened to you, I couldn't…" Harry choked out. "I wouldn't want to live."

Those unclouded, crystal green eyes Hermione loved so deeply stared at her with such anguish. His longing gaze travelled over her form and just then, Harry looked to her like the thirstiest man in the desert, staring at an oasis on all sides surrounded by iron bars.

He took a moment to breathe deeply as he looked at her, and she immediately recognised the blank look that finally washed over his face. He was trying to resign himself.

That hideous voice in the back of his head, the one that must sound conspicuously like Vernon Dursley, shouting to him he should have known he was not worthy enough to keep anything good or lovely, so why long for it? She'd seen it crawl like a dark shadow over him before. It was as if he'd known all along that for him, nothing good could last.

By god but she would make it…

She grabbed him and pulled him to the couch with her, knowing full well he could easily escape from her grasp but would never hurt her to do so, and planted her hands on either side of his face forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"Harry, listen to me…"

He shook his head determinedly and made to stand but she moved quickly to straddle his legs so that he was pinned there.

"No, you listen!" she said grabbing his face again. "You don't get all of the say in this, you hear me? The Weasley's, Sirius, your dad and I, we love you because we want to, not because you've somehow tricked us or lured us in! I love you because I choose to, plain and simple, and nothing you do, no amount of pushing them or me away will change that…"

Harry fiercely grabbed her arms. "I won't let him hurt you.".

"And I won't let you isolate yourself!" said Hermione, equally as fierce. "And if you think Ron or the Weasley's will either, you're bloody wonkers."

She sat silently for a moment, waiting for his protest. When it didn't come, she continued.

"It won't matter how far you back from us. He already knows you love us. He'll know why you've suddenly chosen to go it alone, and it won't make a bloody bit of difference in the end. And Harry, you've got to know Bill didn't give his life just for you. He died trying to protect his father and anyone else Voldemort might attack. We're all targets in one way or the other; all of us. Everyone. You're not the sole deciding factor."

Harry sighed deeply, breath whooshing out from his lungs as if he were exhaling out some poison. He felt in his heart she was right, but fear still lurked in the corners of his mind. Bill Weasley was not the first of Voldemort's victims, and he certainly was not to be the last. How could he live with himself knowing some were to be targeted simply because of their connection to him? Moreover, what was Voldemort's reasoning behind whom he chose? Harry knew he hated him and loved to cause him pain, but wouldn't drawing all of his enemies out for his final war be a better use of the dark lord's time? Wasn't that his ultimate goal? Why all of the playing round the issue first? Harry had never taken Voldemort to be a patient wizard no matter how much he might love torturing the boy-who-lived. It simply didn't add up.

Hermione stared at Harry until she could take his silence no longer. "Harry what are you thinking? Please tell me…"

Harry snapped back to the present and realised Hermione still had a hold of his face and was peering anxiously at him. And despite all the dark thoughts running rampantly round in his head, they dissolved away to be reformed later when his gaze met hers.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for scaring you or…or hurting you. I don't want to push you or the Weasley's away, it's just sometimes...I'm not sure what to do." Hermione winced. She so often wished he didn't have to take the burden of everyone else's safety upon his shoulders. It was enough what he already had to deal with. She let her gaze sweep back over the familiar face she loved more than any other in the world. His desperate expression frightened her.

"Sometimes I actually lie awake nights thinking on how to keep all of you safe," Harry continued, now with an ironic twist to his lips. "Only thing I ever come up with is to somehow go back seven years in time and keep myself from ever meeting any of you. I've wished so hard for a time turner that could go back that far. Sometimes, you know…I dream on it. Finding a way to travel back and right everything."

Hermione cried out and pulled Harry to her, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent with something akin to desperation. As if he might somehow, someway find a way to go back and do just that. And Harry finally slumped free of the false hard wall he had built round him and crushed her to him, his face buried in her thick hair, tears wetting the long curls. Gods but without Hermione where would he be?

"I don't ever want that to happen Harry…NEVER. I love you so much. Please don't ever wish it again. Please don't. Merlin I'd be so empty… Please don't ever say that again."

Neither said anything more until hours later, they made their ways to Harry's room and crawled under the thick golden quilts on his bed, curling up tightly together until they felt secure enough to let their eyes drop closed on the horrific day.

***********************************

Sunday morning came round unbidden and unwanted. Harry knew moments upon waking up with Hermione snuggled close to his chest, he was still to serve detention in Snape's classroom with Malfoy and Nott. And what with all of the drama he'd endured with them yesterday, and the even worse drama that had followed, it depressed him to think he had to face another day of it.

Thinking to himself that the quicker he got to it the sooner he could escape, Harry finally untangled himself from Hermione's long smooth limbs and eased out of bed, snugly tucking the golden quilt back around her.

Upon reaching their small common room he found to his surprise, a large breakfast still steaming warm waiting on the coffee table. Eggs, sausage, bacon, toast and jam and a full carafe of pumpkin juice, freshly squeezed as it still had pulp floating on top. He smiled to himself. News tended to travel fast round Hogwarts halls, and he was sure Professor Dumbledore had alerted a certain adoring house elf of Harry's punishment. He grabbed some of it up and stuffed it in his mouth, feeling slightly better, if only for the moment, about the morning. Thank God for Dobby.

However, despite his full stomach, the long trek to the Potion's classroom was even more unpleasant than it had been morning before, what with fresh thoughts of Mrs. Weasleys agonised face and the rest of the Weasleys, minus Bill, looming sad and ghostly pale in his mind. He also couldn't stop himself from frantically trying somehow to figure who would be the next victim to warn them. There was no way of knowing, and yet he felt if he could just concentrate hard enough, he might somehow be able to think as strategically and twisted as Voldemort did. Beyond all of that he still had his talk with Dumbledore to not look forward to. Harry thought to himself he might not be able to stomach the Professor gazing at him with his wise, kindly eyes, telling him he was somehow not to worry or to blame himself, and to leave everything up to the Order. As if Voldemort was to be left up to them in the end. Dumbledore knew Trelawny's old prophecy even better than Harry did…

As he pushed open the large oak door, Harry was surprised to find only Malfoy and Nott staring malevolently at one another at the front of the classroom, surrounded by the usual potions paraphernalia. Malfoy turned to look at him, and Harry was surprised to see a tiny bit less of the usual hatred for him in his eyes.

"Potter."

A very small, minute, almost microscopic bit less.

Draco turned immediately to the cauldron on the table before him and began adding dry and liquid ingredients to the already bubbling mixture. Harry approached them, noting immediately how Nott still had the slightly bewildered look of someone who couldn't quite remember something they weren't sure had been important anyway. Harry glanced again at Malfoy, who this day had been sure to wear a long sleeved shirt under his black Hogwarts robes. Harry wasn't quite sure why he had decided to keep Malfoy's dark mark a secret, except for the fact that for some odd reason, he truly believed the Slytherin had been forced to receive it.

"Where's Snape?" asked Harry.

"Left suddenly," said Nott in a most unfriendly voice. "Dunno why… Something about dead Muggles needing to order something."

Harry stared at him. "What? What the ruddy hell does that mean?"

"Glove up and shut it, Scarhead," said Malfoy irritated as he stirred the clear, foul-smelling mixture clockwise. "It's obvious he only caught bits of the conversation. That freak werewolf old friend of your father's came in ten minutes ago and whispered to him for a few minutes. They bolted off, after."

"Professor Lupin?" said Harry quickly. What had his father wanted with Snape?

"You know any other mutated freaks round here?" asked Malfoy.

"I can think of a few," said Harry, eyeing him viciously.

Malfoy sent him a hateful glare but chose to ignore the comment. "We've switched jobs. Nott's got the pickling; you'll be the jar filler."

Harry had too much on his mind to argue they had picked jobs without him, and pulled on a pair of heavy plastic gloves, absently beginning to fill jars and send them Nott's way. After, Nott plucked various slimy things from their old jars and plopped them unceremoniously into the new, grumbling and complaining under his breath the entire time.

Around noon, and still under little to no supervision save a teacher popping their head in every now and then, Nott announced rather forcefully he was taking a rest. Neither Harry nor Malfoy seemed to think this a bad idea and all three put down what they were doing to retreat as far away from one another as possible to different parts of the classroom.

With his feet propped up in front of him, Harry slouched down in a desk. After a few minutes he noticed Malfoy taking surreptitious glances his way, with a look on his face that said he was obviously fighting with something in his mind.

One side evidently won, and Nott's suspicious gaze followed Malfoy as he finally sauntered over.

Harry had been chewing absently on his knuckles as random thoughts ran unsorted and unorganised through his mind, but he couldn't keep from dropping his hand and raising one eyebrow at Malfoy as he approached.

Draco sneered at him. "Don't piss yourself Potter, I'm not coming for an autograph. I just want information."

Harry gazed impassively at him. "About?"

Malfoy thinned his lips and tightened his fingers into knuckles, once again looking as if he were waging an inward battle. "About… About Re… Ginny. I want to know what happened yesterday…with her family."

Harry blanched and shifted in his seat. Yesterday was the last thing he wanted to discuss; and Malfoy was certainly one of the last people he wanted to discuss it with.

"She and Ron'll be back soon. You can ask her yourself."

Draco glared at him. "Ginny and I aren't exactly on speaking terms for the moment Scarhead, in case it slipped your attention."

"Can't imagine why," Harry shot back.

Malfoy snarled at him. "Just tell me what happened damn it. Is she alright?"

"Not really, no." said Harry. "Her father and brothers were attacked."

Malfoy glared at him. "I've heard that part Potter…"

"Bill Weasley's dead."

Malfoy froze and stared at Harry for a few moments, studying the hardened, almost dead look on the other's face. He turned his back to him and ground his fists into the desk in front of him. Ginny...

"SHIT."

"Yeah." Harry stared expressionless at him for a few moments before he spoke again. "Three guesses who headed the whole thing."

Malfoy rounded angrily on him, and Harry noted his face was even paler than usual.

"I don't need you to remind me about Lucius, Potter," he growled furiously. "I've had a token of his shitsorry affections burned into my damn arm, if you'll recall." He glanced Nott's way and when he saw the other wasn't paying attention for the moment, rubbed gently at his bicep and mumbled to himself. "All last night bloody thing burned like hell."

Harry stiffened and sat up straight letting his feet slam to the floor. "What!?"

"Yeah, well it does that from time to time," sneered Malfoy scathingly.

Harry scowled at him. "If he's calling his Death Eaters together it means he's planning something else!"

"You think?" Malfoy replied with a harsh look. "Trouble is no one but the Death Eaters know where he'll strike next. There's nothing you or Dumbledore's pathetic secret Order can do until it's done, is there?"

The expression on Harry's face as he eyed Draco froze in shock. He slowly stood and took a careful step forward. What he'd just said… He didn't know what he was going to do but he knew however the ferret had found out… something had to be done…

"Where'd you hear about a 'secret Order'…" said Harry in a dangerously calm voice.

Malfoy smirked at him and lowered his voice as well. "Please, Potter. Whatever they call themselves… The moment five or six of them burst in on you and yours frolicking round with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries two years ago, Voldemort had them figured. He knew Dumbledore would try building a resistance against him."

Harry's expression hardened. "I suppose Daddy filled you in on all this, then…"

"Lucius did yes," said Malfoy without blinking.

"And where do you get they call themselves an 'Order'," said Harry, determined to give away nothing.

"Dead Muggles needing to 'order' something," said Malfoy flippantly, referring to the snatch of conversation he and Nott had overheard earlier. "The conversation according to Nott. Along with what I already know, it doesn't take a science wizard to figure it out."

"So you eavesdropped," said Harry with a subtle raise of one eyebrow.

Malfoy reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of what appeared to be flesh coloured string. "These helped a bit."

Harry snatched the stuff from his hand and looked it over. "What the bloody… Where in the hell did you get these!?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; Diagon Alley, Scarhead or haven't you heard?" said Malfoy snatching the string back from Harry and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Extendable Ears. Quite a clever invention for a couple of dirt poor mongs… Probably wouldn't have sold to me directly; our history and all. But they'll sell to another Slytherin if the price is right, won't they? It wasn't hard."

"But when did you…"

"Shopping for school supplies late August for Salazar's sake," said Malfoy disparagingly. "Your little triad of do-gooders aren't the only ones round here interested in the goings on."

Harry stared at him for a moment, a look of complete dislike on his face before he finally spoke. "Well?"

Malfoy stared indifferently at him. "Well what…"

"What did they say, dickhead!?"

"Pots and kettles Potter," glared Malfoy with hatred in his voice. "Even if I gave a damn whether you knew or not and I don't, it wouldn't matter. All I heard was some crap about dead Muggles and the Order."

Harry growled in frustration and brushed past Malfoy to head back toward the mess of jars, potions and slimy specimens, shortly trailed by Nott and then Malfoy, who was smirking to himself. Although he was equally as angry at the lack of information, a frustrated Potter still never ceased to lift his spirits.

The entire afternoon passed by Harry completely Snape free. As he glanced up at the magically boiling cauldron clock above his head and watched it belch up a bubble from its inside reading four o'clock, he thought to himself that under any other circumstances he would be rejoicing in the fact he hadn't yet had to face the Professor. However this day, every time the classroom door cracked open a bit he would lift his head hopefully, only to be disappointed by Professor Sprout or some other teacher checking in on them. The snatch of conversation Malfoy had heard between his father and Snape had been eating away at his mind, and he was desperate to find out what exactly had happened to keep Snape away all afternoon.

The door to the classroom finally banged open right as five o'clock bubbled out from the cauldron clock and popped with a wet squelching sound. Snape walked in, looking weary, but by no accounts any less irritated or condescending.

He waltzed over to the three and glanced over their progress with disdain. "I see you've managed to get them all, though I suppose I shouldn't have expected the job to look any less sloppy or carelessly done." He turned his small dark eyes on Malfoy and Nott. "You two may leave. Potter, you're to head to the Headmaster's office straight away. He'd like a word with you."

Harry knew Snape had stressed the last part in an attempt to make him think he was in trouble with Dumbledore, but he wasn't fooled. He knew it had something to do with the snatch of conversation Malfoy and Nott had overheard, and without a word to Snape, he rushed out of the classroom.

Malfoy, thinking to himself he would like a bit of information as well, shot him an unreadable look as he ran past.

************************************************

Immediately after Harry disappeared at a full run round the corner, Nott wasted no time engaging Malfoy in an almost chest to chest staring contest.

"Decided to make friends with Potter as well?" said Theodore in a disgusted voice. "Oh dear… Daddy'll be so disappointed."

"Though he is good for the occasional bit of information I never have and never will be friends with Potter, dipshit." Malfoy regarded him with a haughty sneer. "And as for what Lucius thinks, I really don't give a damn."

"Right," said Nott brusquely, stepping back from him a bit. "After school you know what he expects of you. Your new 'fraternisations' as of late, are really making it seem as if you're thinking on betraying him and Voldemort; and believe me, I'm not the only Slytherin who's noticed it…You piss daddy off any more and come graduation you won't have a home or an inheritance."

Or a life… thought Malfoy darkly. Despite himself, he was grateful Potter had obliviated Nott's memory of the 'dark mark' incident. It would have given the little arse-wipe more to use against him.

"Because I'm feeling generous today," said Malfoy angrily. "I'll let you in on a little something I don't think you've understood before I decide on again beating the shit out of you. What I do or don't do, is none of your ruddy-arse concern, so from now on, you can stay the hell out of it."

"WRONG," spat Nott flatly. "What you do is most of Slytherin's concern, Draco. You're Lucius Malfoy's SON in case you've not noticed. For years most, if not the whole of our house has looked up to you. You've been THE example of what Slytherin is. We've waited to see what you would become after Hogwarts; how high you would rise in Voldemort's ranks. We've known because of your father you were on the strongest path, and most of our fathers are directly in line under yours for Voldemort's power. In fact, Lucius Malfoy is the very one Voldemort listens to the most, the only one Voldemort has allowed to recruit others for him. If Lucius' own son would betray him, if he's seen as so weak that he loses respect from his own son, how d'you think Voldemort will see our fathers, or their successors?! After that, d'you think he'd trust Lucius or anyone linked to him? D'you think he'd trust their sons and daughters? And I won't let you influence my friends or any of the others away from our chance at real power!

See Draco… it DOES concern me what you do; it concerns ALL of our house loyal to the dark lord. It could effect how the rest of us, and our entire house are seen, and I won't let you ruin us."

Sodding Salazar… Draco had always prided himself on knowing everything going on round him, but this revelation had come as a complete shock. So the Slytherin were watching him? Up until this point, had he been making Voldemort proud? The thought nauseated him. He had no dillusions of grandeur like Potter and his bootlicking entourage; to be good, honest and always forthright or any of that other shit. However, to think all this time he had been looked upon as the prototype of a future head Death Eater, gods… He'd always known what Lucius had in store for him, he'd just never known how much it might affect those around him.

Nott had an almost mad gleam in his eye, and to a less ballsy wizard it would have been unnerving. But Malfoy continued to stare blandly at him.

"You are a barking little gimp, aren't you?"

"As they say Malfoy, one shitty apple ruins the whole otherwise impeccable barrel," Nott unaffected, continued in a low voice. "I'd rather see that one exposed for what it is and chucked out. What happens to you after is your problem."

And with that, despite the new revelation Nott had given him, Malfoy had finally had enough.

"Shining example or not, I've had enough of you shoving your fat arse in my business," he snarled furiously, moving to grab a fistful of Nott's shirt and bring him close to his face. "But if you want to dick around, fine. I've got time enough to again beat the hell out of you."

Nott narrowed his eyes, but said nothing in reply. Although during their last match he had landed a few well placed blows himself, he knew he had taken the brunt of the beating. Malfoy was a bit more toned from Quidditch than he, Theodore, was.

Draco shoved Nott back from him, ready if need be to begin and finish another fight, but Theodore backed away a bit as if beginning to head back toward the Slytherin part of the castle.

"You just watch your step," he pointed menacingly as he made to turn on his heel and stride away. "I'll be watching you. And Merlin knows you stray out of line, my father will hear about it straight away; and then guess who'll be next to know?"

Nott left the question hanging as he left knowing there was no need to answer. However, as far as Malfoy was concerned, his threats were ignored.

If he stepped out from line Lucius would not need to rely on Nott's father for information, would he? Draco grimaced as he rubbed his still smarting left bicep… The moment he stepped out from the protective confines of Hogwarts grounds, Voldemort would attend to him personally.

With that morbid thought playing havoc with his mind, Draco decided to himself he needed a stroll in fresh air to clear his mind and turned to stride as stoically as possible the opposite way down the hall.

****************************************

Completely out of breath, Harry skidded to a halt in front of the ugly gargoyles guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and barked the password. The thought that something else may have happened to others he loved made his blood pump even faster in his veins, and as if he were in a state of blind panic, he tore up the revolving staircase taking two steps at a time.

As he had expected he found the Headmaster sitting behind his desk in deep thought, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, and worry lines creasing his face, belying his usual calm exterior. As Harry approached he glanced up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

"Harry, sit...please."

Harry kept his eyes glued to Dumbledore and threw himself into a chair. "Professor, what's happened?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips and dropped his fingers from underneath his chin to clasp them familiarly before him on the desk. When he spoke his voice was serious and even. "Unfortunately Harry, one of the things we've feared most."

Harry stared at him. "We? Who d'you mean, we?"

"Your father, Sirius and I," said Dumbledore, sighing. "We've felt for some time Voldemort might choose to target those who've had close association with you. Though his first attacks were on Arthur, Charlie and Bill Weasley, it could have been seen as mere coincidence that you're involved with their family. However, with this new round, we've become more certain than ever that Tom is not choosing his targets randomly. I fear there is method to his madness."

Harry pounded a fist angrily into the desk before him. "DAMN IT! Who is it? What's he done…"

"Early this morning Sirius flooed me an urgent note on an item he'd just seen over the Muggle news. Privet Drive in Little Whinging was attacked," said Dumbledore, with a regretful look on his face that said he wished he could deliver the news in an easier way. Harry started in surprise. "Your old house at number four, along with another house further down was destroyed. Vernon Dursley was killed."

Harry stood up suddenly, almost knocking the chair beneath him to the floor. "No! It can't… that doesn't make any sense! You've always said that house is safe what with my mother's sacrifice being such a strong ward and Aunt Petunia sharing the same blood… You said the magic protecting me was ancient and almost unbreakable!"

Dumbledore's head nodded down as if from under too much weight. "You are right, Harry. And as long as you were there, the wards and protections that followed you made the residence safe. However, the moment you leave it… Harry every September when you've come back to school, the protection has left with you. Do you remember six years ago how Professor Quirrel, possessed by Voldemort, was not able to touch you? The sacrifice Lily made placed that magical bond over you, not the house. Although the bond your Aunt Petunia shares with you makes the magic that much stronger when you're there, you, not the house itself, are what has made the residence safe. I can only imagine Voldemort had specific reason for waiting to attack the Dursleys now."

For a moment Harry, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, could only sit and stare. Uncle Vernon, dead… He wasn't sure how to feel. He had very few relatives left in the world, and he felt even after all the Dursleys had put him through over the years he should feel, if not sadness, at least some type of remorse. However, all he felt was a glaring emptiness. When he'd gathered himself enough to clear his mind, he asked the next obvious question.

"Aunt Petunia and Dudley... are they..."

"Alive," said Dumbledore quickly, "though quite shaken and a bit banged up for it. Your Aunt was with your cousin in his room this morning it seems, something to do with a nightmare he'd had from what I've understood. There was a loud explosion on the first floor. Apparently your uncle made your aunt and cousin stay put and went downstairs to fight off the intruders." Dumbledore shook his grizzled white head and sighed sadly.

"Though he did manage to get one of them, even with a shotgun a Muggle is no match for three Death Eaters …"

Harry was cognisant enough to wonder quickly how Dumbledore knew about Muggle firearms before his thoughts took him back to more pressing matters.

"And how did Aunt Petunia and Dudley escape?"

"Petunia heard what had happened and somehow found the presence of mind to take Dudley and escape out of his window. They fled to one of the neighbours houses."

Harry dropped his hands from his face and sat upright. "From Dudley's window!? On the second floor? How did they manage?"

"They jumped Harry," said Dumbledore with a bit of respect in his voice. "Your Aunt Petunia suffered from a few sprains…unfortunately Dudley broke one of his ankles and wrists. Had quite a bit more bulk for the fall, I imagine. Only moments later members of the Order showed on the scene, but they were too late for your Uncle." Dumbledore gazed sadly at the younger man sitting before him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry merely thinned his lips and nodded. He hated himself for the little emotion he was feeling over his uncle's death. Though the man had shown almost no kindness to him in the whole sixteen years he'd been living with him, he was human, and family. The thought that he felt almost nothing but regret that Voldemort had struck again made Harry's insides squirm with guilt.

"So… Aunt Petunia and Dudley… Where've they been taken?"

"Well, first let me say their injuries have been healed. Madame Pomfrey flooed straight away to their new temporary place of residence to take care of it, though you can be sure she did endure quite a bit of protest over the use of magic." And here, despite the situation, Harry noticed Dumbledore almost couldn't hide the twinkle that suddenly lit his eyes.

"You must understand Harry, we couldn't very well leave them without protection in the Muggle world. Of course, to stay at Hogwarts was never a possibility, and there are too many untrustworthy wizards and witches at the ministry to let them in on, so the Endangered Muggle Relocation Program is out of the question. We had to put them somewhere they would be protected; somewhere completely hidden from sight… Your godfather has generously offered to share his estate with them."

Harry sat bolt-upright in shock. "Grimmauld Place!? You've sent Aunt Petunia and Dudley to Grimmauld Place!?"

He clawed a hand through his hair. Despite himself, an image of Aunt Petunia having a simultaneous coronary/stroke over the bachelor-like, wizarding state of the house, and Dudley hiding behind her, as pale and shaking with fright as her and again pressing a hand over his arse, played through his mind. For a moment, Harry felt as if some sort of sick, inappropriate laughter might suddenly come bursting out. Eloquent words left him as he stared open-mouthed at the Headmaster.

"Holy shit."

Dumbledore favoured him with a wan smile and sighed. "Though I do wish I had no more bad news for you Harry, unfortunately there is still the matter of the other destroyed house further down from number four. It was Arabella Figg's residence, I am deeply saddened to say. She was killed as well."

Harry's gaze snapped up to Dumbledore's once more. Gods, Mrs. Figg… Merlin, she'd done nothing but live quietly by herself; a lonely old woman with too many cats for company. Nevertheless, for probably as many years as he had lived at number four she had been keeping watch over him and reporting his welfare to Dumbledore. Voldemort must have somehow found out about her... No. Not somehow. The dementors two years ago... directly following their attack could they have seen Mrs. Figg running toward him? Upon retrospect, it was almost certain they were working for Voldemort, then and now. It was probably also how Voldemort knew to find the Dursleys...

Harry found he had very little to say he wanted Dumbledore to hear. Here again was another person who had lost her life simply because she knew him. And the real bitch of it all, was there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. Whatever sick headgame Voldemort was playing with him, he was giving him no out. If he was trying to draw Harry out, why the bloody hell wasn't he giving him somewhere to meet him and end everything? What other reason was there except simply to torture him? Perhaps for all of it, the torture aspect was strictly the only reason. If it were true, that would make Tom Riddle an even sicker bastard than previously thought.

"Though members of the Order have informed Muggle authorities of the reality of the situation, they've officially reported what happened at number four and ten as related gas main explosions to prevent panic," said Dumbledore. He studied Harry carefully for a few moments before he next spoke.

"Now, not only wizarding officials, but Muggle ones as well have been made known of Voldemort's renewed threat. We can only conclude he now wants his presence known throughout the entirety of England."

"England…" Harry had been bowed low in his chair with his face in his hands, but he now sat up and eyed Dumbledore.

"Purging just England of half bloods and Muggles won't satisfy that mental son of a bitch," he said bluntly. "He won't rest until he's done the world Professor, mark my words."

Dumbledore eyed him and nodded slowly before his clasped hands. "You are right, Harry. England and our part of Scotland is just the beginning for Tom. It is for this reason even now, several Aurors, Hit Wizards and members of Magical Law Enforcement not deceived by the Ministry's lack of belief in Voldemort's return, and loyal to our cause, are in extra training with the Order of the Phoenix. Some others are being sent to recruit as many creatures of our world we feel might be sympathetic to our cause."

"Recruit…" Harry's gaze flew back to Dumbledore once more. "Which creatures? Who?"

"Whomever in the end will stand with those on our side and fight. Centaurs, giants, goblins, even freed house elves… Voldemort is almost certainly recruiting his own army even as we speak," said Dumbledore wearily. "We've always believed the discord and division in our world would cause a rift that would one day culminate in war. That time is now fast approaching, it seems."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed with the overflow of information he was receiving, and impatient to share it with Hermione. "And the Aurors and Ministry Wizards… where are they being trained?"

"Inverness, Scotland at a secure location. They've been apparating weekly for extra training, if and when final war is made reality," said Dumbledore, leaning forward to clasp his long-fingered hands in front of him and once again peering seriously at Harry over his glasses. "Our situation is dire, indeed Harry. Between our factions, more than ever before the threat of war is most imminent. You've known for some time the final battle with Voldemort himself was to be in your hands. It is for this reason I ask you to begin training with James at the sword, and using your abilities with wandless magic, harder than ever you have before."

Harry stared at him for a moment and then spoke. "I've been in training with dad since the beginning of the year. Our last class of the day is with him. He and I spend an hour extra on the sword, and I do regularly use wandless magic."

Dumbledore nodded but fixed Harry with a grave look. "I am aware. James has kept me informed of your progress. He's stated many times you're a natural at the sword and that your wandless use of magic is improving. However, I want you to understand something, Harry. The real situation will be far removed from the quiet, twofold environment you share in James' classroom. You must be capable of concentration amidst a chaos of commotion and sound. You must be able to focus your magic; at times, even centralising on two tasks at once while confusion and disorder surge round you. When the final conflict takes place, I would be sorely remiss in allowing you to be ill prepared. I could never stand for it, especially for a member of…" Having said this, Dumbledore paused and for a moment seemed heavily burdened by something. When he next spoke, his voice was melancholy and more subdued than Harry had ever heard it.

"I could never forgive myself for it, Harry."

With the sudden unexpected show of emotion Dumbledore had just done, Harry felt for a moment oddly out of sorts. He scrutinised the Headmaster carefully for a moment, but when it became obvious he was going to get no explanation for it, Harry leaned uneasily back against his chair, keenly observing him.

"Alright Professor. It makes sense what you're saying, of course. I'll train harder and longer with my father."

Dumbledore nodded briefly, and for a moment, seemed to be examining Harry just as closely as Harry had done to him.

Believing their conversation was over, Harry stood as if to make his way out from the office until Dumbledore's kind, softly rasping voice called to him once more.

"Harry a moment more, please." He fixed him with a compassionate look, and upon seeing it, Harry immediately found he was sure he did not want to hear what else the Headmaster had to say.

"I understand you've heard this before and from my own mouth no less," began Dumbledore quietly, "but you mustn't blame yourself for all that has happened. Whether or not Voldemort has been choosing his victims based on their relationships with you, he, and only he is to be condemned. He chose you as his enemy, not the other way round. You've had no choice in any of this."

I've had choices... Every person I've let into my life I've chosen, thought Harry darkly, and the jury in his mind began screaming accusations at him once again.

As if Dumbledore could read his thoughts, he continued. "I wonder Harry, if you've ever heard the expression, 'no man is an island, but every one a piece of the continent.' It was written long ago by a quite insightful Muggle named John Donne. Not only does this statement make us realise we need others with us to travel life's journey, but also that what happens to one, happens to all."

Harry felt that to look into Dumbledore's face would reveal what he was thinking and feeling, so he continued to avoid the professor's eyes. That wise, penetrating gaze that seemed always able to search out his innermost workings, and that kind old face, the one that every time he saw it, seemed to be almost etched in understanding of him; these were things he couldn't bear to accept tonight. Bill Weasley, Uncle Dursley, Arabella Figg… three people, innocent, yet executed… and their only crimes had been knowing him.

If he had been looking though, Harry would have seen the Professors face lined with more than understanding. As he continued, he also peered at him with concern.

"You're father has spoken with me on this 'renewed covenant' you've recently made with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and on the strange occurrences following. I believe as they, your father, and you do that your meeting those two was by no means chance. I believe it was meant to be. Why Sibyl's prediction with you and Voldemort having to kill the other came first, before her most recent ones, we'll never know. However, it is certain she is correct in that you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley are somehow bound on more levels than simple friendship. Your entire careers at Hogwarts are living proof of it. Except for a few glaring instances, you three have always faced challenges together. As much as Ronald and Hermione need you to fight against the evil that is threatening our world, you need them. Don't turn your back on them, Harry. Don't try facing these challenges on your own. Don’t try fighting the pain on your own. As much as you fail to accept it, this war involves all of us. Whether or not Voldemort's victims have had some connection with you, the fact is certain, there would have been victims. If not Bill, Arabella and your Uncle Dursley, it would have inevitably been others. Know this, Harry. You are neither the cause, nor the blame. But where Voldemort is concerned, you will in the end be the deciding factor."

Dumbledore then looked gently and sincerely at him. "And if I were able, I would take your place."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and found himself staring into the Headmaster's eyes in slight confusion. Why would anyone wish his place on themselves? However, the answer he found staring back at him, more than the question left him confused and feeling slightly uneasy, as if something else were being hidden from him…

He stood quickly. "I need... I've got to go. I need to talk with… with someone."

Dumbledore nodded and watched him sadly as he left, letting the solid oak door concealing the revolving staircase click shut behind him.

"Go talk with her Harry," he whispered.

********************************************

Draco pushed open the gigantic oak doors of Hogwarts and stalked out into a late January evening. He had had only a few minutes before the house elves automatically apparated away the remains of supper to bolt down a bit of it, and had taken a moment to survey the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall for the weather.

It was no surprise then, when he stepped out into a drizzling, depressing dark blue and black evening lit only by the moon, with a scattering of grey clouds just for adding a bit of drab colour.

He pulled his heavy wool cloak tighter about him and shoved his hands into his pockets to ward off the cold and icy drizzle. Without even having to think much, he knew where he was headed. Besides the large tree growing just outside the Quidditch pitch, to him there was no better area for thinking at night than by the lake. He began walking towards the area where the thickest brush and plants grew. In case someone else had decided on an evening walk as well, he would be well hidden sitting there, away from intruding eyes and mouths.

Gods... he had problems enough to work through and worry on without Nott poking his bastarding nose in. The letter from Lucius practically ordered him to begin using Ginny and any other means necessary in order to gain information on what Dumbledore's resistance was next planning. How he was supposed to just happen upon such information, being in the right place at the right time, was beyond him. He wondered just who it was at Hogwarts Voldemort already had working for him and gleaning information.

Malfoy had no desire to see Voldemort win the war, even if it meant Potter had to win to fix it. And it was just thoughts like these he knew Voldemort might catch him on if and when he decided at any given moment to focus his uncanny mind on him. He tried keeping his thoughts well hidden, but at times they would slip past when his defences were down. It would only take one lapsing moment while Voldemort was centred on him to doom him.

These thoughts hammered at his mind as he stepped round a large clump of bushes, and found himself coming to an abrupt halt, staring at the back of quite possibly the last person he needed to see at the moment. Right then, Malfoy came to think it was a distinct possibility he was cursed.

Ginny sat with her back toward Hogwarts and her knees drawn up toward her chest, watching the lake ripple thousands of multiplying rings with each tiny drop of rain. The moon shone as a huge lump of gold towards the back of the water, sending a great golden beam of light beginning large and ending small towards the shore. The end of it seemed to land on her head, making her damp red hair shine.

Damn.

She must have just got back from the hospital. As he wrestled with himself on what to do, indecision clenched at his stomach. He shouldn't get close to her again; it was exactly what his father and the dark bastard wanted, yet if he didn't, he was taking a dangerous risk. Nott's threat darkened his thoughts as well. Besides the glaring notion that he might very well not anymore have a home or inheritance to live on after school, these were the least of his worries. His life ending prematurely had decidedly landed the top of the list.

If he was stealthy enough, he might be able to back away before she saw or heard him. It was for the best.

He began moving backward slowly, his feet making no noise on the damp ground, until without turning or even indicating she'd heard him approach, Ginny's bitter voice shattered the quiet, sounding rather odd and echoless in the openness of the grounds.

"You're not leaving on my account… Don't think for one minute I care what you do."

Malfoy's heart gave an odd jump at her voice, and he gritted his teeth for it. Damn it to hell.

"How the bloody hell…"

"The lake, Draco. Acts as a sort of mirror at times; reflects things. Amazing, I know."

"I was just... I didn't know you were out here, Red."

"Obviously," she said blandly.

Malfoy thinned his lips in anger, but he would find later, it was more at himself than at her. "I hate to disappoint you, but I can walk anyplace I damn well please. Last I checked, this wasn't private property."

To his surprise, Ginny hardly reacted to his statement and turned her face to the side. "Seems the week is just full of surprises then. Last I checked, I was still a virgin."

Malfoy grimaced. He'd known the time for this conversation would be soon, but he felt now was definitely not the time.

"I'm sorry for that... really. Look, I'll just go and leave you to it, alright?"

However, as he moved to walk away, Ginny stood to her feet abruptly, turned, and glared at him. Her nose and eyes were reddened, and he could see wet trails running the length of her cheeks. Gods… he'd never known what to do with a crying female. Bloody hell.

"Running away are we?" said Ginny harshly, but the shakiness in her voice belied her in control exterior. "I've just got one question… What in the bloody hell possessed you?"

Draco found himself getting instantly defensive, just as he always did when confronted by someone. Old habits died hard. "What d'you…"

"I mean I might understand you wanting to brag to your entire house about shagging the poor, gullible Weasley witch had we actually done it..."

"I don't brag shit to any of my housemates Red," said Malfoy.

"Oh no!?" barked Ginny. "Then every one of them just simultaneously came up with the idea on their own, I suppose?"

Draco thinned his lips and shook his head. "That bastard Nott started spreading round our house you were easy."

"And you had nothing to do with it, I suppose…"

"Not with that no," said Malfoy, with his hands balled frustratedly in his pockets. "I told father I was just shagging you to throw him off our trail. I never expected him to brag it to anyone…"

"What was it then?" Ginny cut him off in a hard voice.

Draco blinked at her. "Wha... I don't know what you're... "

"Was ruining mine and my family's reputation not enough for you? Did you and your father have a nice sit together to plan his attack on my dad and brothers!?"

"What the hell're you..." began Draco, completely confounded. "I had nothing to do with that!"

"Oh right," cried Ginny, taking a step back from him. "You've always hated my family! What was it you've always called us? Blood traitors? An embarrassment to pureblood wizards? I'll bet you threw a right large celebration once you'd heard my brother was killed!"

"Your talking about Lucius Red," stated Draco in a hard tone. "Not me."

"I'm talking about ALL of the Malfoy's!" yelled Ginny, choking on her sobs and pointing an accusing finger at him. "It WAS your father who murdered Bill, they've found, did you know!? Charlie woke earlier this afternoon and told us everything. Very early in the morning he, father and Bill were headed some thirty yards behind our house to portkey to their guard positions. Your father and two of his son of a bitch underlings jumped them from behind!"

Draco sighed and shifted his feet. He wasn't sure what to do or how to react. It was obvious Ginny was hurting and simply taking it out on him and yet, he was completely unequipped to handle it.

"I'm sorry... but I had nothing to do with... "

"My mum found them in the field behind our house a couple of hours later when she headed out to do some gardening," spat Ginny hoarsely, "did you know!? My own mum found them!"

"Gods… I’m sorry Red. Really…"

Ginny made a snorting sound and began to walk round him to head back toward the castle. "Don't lie! You've always hated my family! I should've listened to Ron… He told me you were just using me… He told me not to fool myself into thinking you really cared for me…"

"I do, damn it!…"

Ginny whirled round to glare at him. "Sure… sure you do. Well save yourself some time and effort and don't bother! I don't need the Malfoy type of caring, do I!? I'd rather keep the rest of my family!"

Draco growled angrily in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you Red, I really am. But I had nothing to do with it for shitsake!"

However, Ginny only narrowed wet, swollen eyes at him and hissed quietly. "Just you stay away from me."

She turned on her heel to stride back up to the castle, but Draco grabbed her arm and spun her to him. She stared back at him with a startled look mixed with, to Malfoy's surprise, a bit of fear. He recoiled instantly and dropped her arm. She really must now equate him with his father. But no matter. If it kept her away from him, and accordingly, his instructions from his father, it did the job.

"I will," Draco seethed through his teeth in almost a whisper, though he felt as if he were dying inside. "But you remember something. It's my father, and his instructions from Voldemort that's done this, and it's not over. I would never hurt you or your family, whatever you may think of me… But Voldemort won't stop until everyone who stands against him is done in. He has loads of people on his side. Even now he has some spy in the castle working to get information on Dumbledore and Potter. He's a mental son of a bitch, Ginny. Don't at any time think you're safe. Don't ever stop looking over your shoulder, and don't think he's done with your family. As long as any of you breathe he won't be through, you hear me?… Anyone who isn't for him is against him, pureblood or not. And whether or not you believe it, by the end he'll want me dead as well."

Ginny stared up at him, watching conflicting emotions flit across his face just as steadily as they did over hers. She found herself unable to say anything else, so she simply nodded brusquely at him and turned to walk back to the castle, sensing his eyes on her the entire way.

Malfoy sighed as he watched her go, feeling as if he had been wrung dry, and left for dead. There was no one left, now. He truly was alone, but by now, he'd got used to it. He'd always been alone, really. But at least it had taught him to be resourceful. He had never had anyone else to help him through much of anything, and he had known all along his time with Ginny had been nothing more than a breath; a short sigh of reprieve. However, he hardened his jaw with an iron-like resolve as he began to walk round the lake. Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a survivor.

*************************************************

Harry swung Sir Cadogen's portrait open with only a wave of his hand, startling the knight so much he fell from his backwards perch on his horse to land to the ground with a loud clang.

As he entered, knowing for certain he would find Hermione on their common room couch incessantly cramming for N.E.W.T.s, he had his mouth already open to blurt out to her what Dumbledore had just divulged to him, but the sight before him made him shut it with a quick snap.

Hermione was there just as he had predicted, surrounded by parchments and opened books and quills with her knees drawn up to her chest, but Ron sat beside her, with Lavender Brown on his other side holding his hand. His whole form was slumped on the couch and bent with a type of heavy depression Harry had never seen on him, and his eyes and nose were still red and swollen from a recent bout of crying. Harry could see Hermione and Lavender had been crying with him.

Without looking up, Ron spoke quietly, sounding congested. " 'Lo mate."

Harry stood staring for a few seconds not sure what to do, until Hermione beckoned silently to him with her hand to come sit with them. He approached slowly and sat himself down carefully next to Hermione, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to peer at Ron.

"Ron… something else happen?" He asked dreading the answer.

"No… nothing like you think. Mum's just set the funeral date for Bill." Ron sighed and pulled himself up a bit straighter. "March first. He'll be buried in the field behind the Burrow where he was found. Mum says it's fitting…also said she wanted him near, you know… so she can visit him often."

"I'm sorry mate." Harry's throat began to ache. "Where's Ginny?"

"Wouldn't come here with me," said Ron. "I told her it would do her good to be with friends, but she said she'd rather be alone. Can't blame her, I suppose. She's always been that way."

Harry sighed. "Yeah she has… though I wish she wasn't."

Ron simply nodded and clawed a hand through his shorter red hair. "Charlie's awake, too."

Harry looked at him quickly. "That's good mate… has he said anything?"

Ron paused for a few moments, staring at his hands, which he began gripping and ungripping before Lavender grabbed one of them back from him again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"He's still a bit out of it," said Ron quietly, his voice suddenly turning bitterly cold. "But he did manage a few details… like who attacked them."

The change did not slip Harry's notice.

"I've had an idea…who did he name?"

"Lucius Malfoy," said Ron in a dangerously icy, numb voice. "Charlie's also said one of the others might've been Bellatrix Lestrange, he thinks. Said before she cursed him he yanked her mask and caught a bit of her face. Thought he recognised her from the photos in the Prophet."

Harry let his back slap against the couch and scowled through his teeth. "I don't doubt it."

Silence ruled for a while, and Hermione continued to glance from Ron, who was being consoled and whispered to by Lavender, to Harry, giving him worried glances and grabbing onto his hand. Harry understood what she was conveying to him. Ron looked almost murderous. He must feel now, some of the same emotions toward Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters that Harry himself had carried round in his heart toward Voldemort. He now knew how it felt to have a family member murdered. The change in Ron was evident, and Harry hoped the cold, dead feeling would stay surface enough not to drain down into his soul. He'd had enough experience with it himself, and it was a diseased, festering thing; almost impossible to cut away from oneself once it took root.

Harry decided then, that it was time he told Hermione and Ron of what Dumbledore had just revealed to him. Though he loathed throwing more anxiety into the mix, if he didn't tell them now, he was certain he would never. A constant wall seemed to continue building itself around his insides, brick after brick, layer upon layer. He could almost feel its effort to reach the top. Bill is dead… a cemented brick slapped onto another. Clink… Charlie and Mr. Weasley injured… Clink… Vernon Dursley and Mrs. Figg, dead… Clink… Murdered. All to get at me. Clink.

Harry forced the darkness away. Now was not the time. "I've got more bad news, I'm afraid."

Instinctively, Hermione scooted closer to him and grabbing at his arm in an effort to prepare herself. Lavender sat up suddenly, and Ron for his part, glanced at him with an almost anaesthetised look on his face, as if his head were trapped in a fog.

"Go on. It can't get much worse."

It can Ron. It will. "This morning, Sirius flooed Dumbledore. Last night Death Eaters attacked Little Whinging and my Uncle Vernon and Arabella Figg were attacked… they're dead."

Lavender gasped and bolted to her feet. "B..but they were Muggles, weren't they!?"

"Mrs. Figg was a squib, so she might as well have been," said Harry quietly. "They never had a chance."

"Oh my god," Lavender sat again and spoke breathlessly to Ron. "Ron I've… I've got to go. I've got to owl and see that my parents are all right and that they've heard… We live near Surrey… please understand… I'll be back soon."

Ron nodded and kissed her cheek. " 'Course. Go on."

Lavender stood and nodded to Harry and Hermione before sprinting toward the portrait door and throwing it open, letting it slam shut behind her.

Silence fell in the room so heavily, it seemed almost alive and breathing. That was until, Ron spoke quietly.

"I'll kill them, you know."

Both Harry and Hermione suddenly turned to look at him. It was the first time he'd finally looked both of them full in the face since Harry had entered the common room earlier, and the expression on his face was full of determined hatred.

"Ron…" began Hermione, her voice shaking a bit.

"Don't say it, 'Mione," said Ron with a deadly quiet, his body completely still. "I don't care what you think on this… you either, Harry. When time comes, when Voldemort finally sends for you mate, I'll be right there. I'm going to make sure they're both done in; the third bastard as well when I find him out. All of them, mark my words."

Harry knew it was useless to try talking to him on it. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he would say to him if he could. He wanted just as badly to kill Voldemort; for the deaths of his parents, for Hermione's kidnap and torture only last year, and for the ones he had killed and undoubtedly would kill in the near future.

He knew that kind of hatred, the kind that ran too deep… the kind that flooded wide and high, utterly filling. With practice you could keep it from completely drowning you, though Harry knew Ron had had little experience. Harry found he again didn't have the words to help Ron or anyone else. It was like a drained pitcher trying to fill another, almost empty other than a few drips.

"Ron… I know how you feel. I'm sorry. It's all I've got." Harry put his arm round Hermione, who grabbed Ron's hand, and his and held tight. "I know he's not done though, mate. There'll be others..."

"Soon, I know." Ron nodded almost blankly and settled back against the couch again. "It's clear, isn't it? He's baiting you until he's ready."

As soon as he had said it though, Ron knew how Harry must feel upon hearing his own worst thoughts spoken aloud, and he knew him enough to know what he must feel.

"But we don't blame you Harry," said Ron clearly, piercing him with a serious look. "You can't claim fault for that sick bastard."

Harry nodded in agreement but Hermione caught the faltering in his eyes and squeezed his hand. He turned to her and she leaned forward, placing her forehead on his.

"He's right," she whispered. "Listen to him."

At the absurdity of hearing Hermione entreat him to listen to Ron's opinion, which she normally held in a bit of low regard, Harry began to smile. His first smile of the day, and it suddenly occurred to him that those facial muscles had been sadly long, underused.

The insanity and utter derangement of it all played havoc with his emotions. He felt suddenly as if he would like nothing more than to scream aloud until his voice gave way, or punch something, to pound and pound it until it was left as nothing but a splintered pile of rubbish, to laugh hysterically until it ultimately ended in sobbing… to jump out from his skin and take someone else's.

However, if he had known what was to come in comparison, the complete underwhelming of what had already occurred would have shocked him into silence.

A tapping came to the window, and all three turned to see a large brown barn owl with a scroll tied to its leg banging its beak against the window, the cold drizzle on its feathers illuminated by the moon.

Harry's heart sank as if weighted. Owl post never came this late unless it was…

Hermione stood to approach the window, but Harry quickly grabbed her hand and pushed her back to the couch, shaking his head sternly at her and placing a hand quickly to her face.

"I'll go."

Pulling out his wand even though he rarely needed it somehow made him feel more armed, and Harry neared the window slowly, throwing it open quickly and stepping back with his wand arm outstretched. The sudden action startled the owl into flying backward from his perch for a moment, but he had been well trained. He returned instantly, and stuck his leg out.

Harry hesitated and then quickly untied the letter from her leg, watching her again as she flew off into the wet darkness of the sky.

He sat himself on the couch and Hermione and Ron surrounded him instantly as he charmed the letter to unroll.

The chosen first are not the last

Peaceful reprieve is now elapsed.

A short delaying of the hour

Then hard and swift a heavy power.

A mighty fist and sweep of hand

A cleansing reckoning at command

Grieve and bow with bent soul hollow

Tell me, who is next to follow?

Harry, Hermione and Ron sat slowly back against the couch together, one after the other, feeling, on anything still dependable in their lives, more shaken than ever before; because at any time, in any still, unassuming moment, it might be ripped away.

As for Harry, just as he felt himself closer, crawling back to the ones he loved, he encountered the accusing jury inside his mind; the one that screamed his blame, and the one that held him accountable for everything.

And part of it, he knew was true.

********************************************

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.

Believe me, more death and destruction is coming, but don't despair! In the end, I promise I'll leave the characters with peace and happiness and hopefully, you'll be sighing with relief and maybe grinning!!! *wrings hands hopefully* I love you all and thank you so much for your patience. Believe me everything in here has a reason and I'm not just stalling, so I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

31. Chapter 31: A Funeral and an Army

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."

32. Chapter 32: Fudge and his Greatest Regret

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.

(A/N: Hey guys… please don't flame me for taking so long with this next chappie, but as you can see, it's filled with lots of information you needed to know before the final war comes, and it's coming soon!!!!! Don't worry, Draco/Ginny fans, there will be more of them in the next chapter, followed by more Harry/Hermione and more action. The next few chapters will be even rougher to write as the war IS FAST approaching. Please please please, leave me some reviews. It's what writers LIVE FOR! I've been so disappointed in the small amount I've been getting lately, and I really want to know what you guys think, which I know will be littered with lots of anger for taking so long! But I've been super busy with a new job these past weeks and have only been able to write a very little bit at a time. Please review and let me know what you think! I love you all! Cheers! Bama.)

33. Chapter 33: The Beginning of the End

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.

MINISTER OF MAGIC CORNELIUS FUDGE MURDERED: YOU-KNOW-WHO TO BLAME, SAYS DELORES UMBRIDGE

By Edmund Pillings

Late yesterday evening, while in his office finishing reports of the day's work, Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge was attacked and murdered. Deputy Prime Minister Delores Jane Umbridge and Senior Undersecretary Percival Ignatius Weasley were also present, and were witnesses to the entire incident.

"We were working overtime as usual, going over and recording daily affairs. Next moment the dark lord, as alive and well as I sit here today, apparated into his office!" recites Umbridge, who is crying and clearly upset by the tragedy…"

"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.

"We hardly had time to react. Weasley and I jumped back at once, but You-Know-Who gave Cornelius the killing curse. He never spoke a word… just killed the Minister in cold blood. I tried reaching for my wand before he disapparated but wasn't quick enough."

"Reached for her wand, did she!?" Ron irately interrupted once again. "Only to help I'm sure..."

"Ron, stop cutting in!" snapped Hermione, continuing.

Percival Weasley concurs.

"Much of it is a blur as I must've blacked out after. However, I do remember Minister Fudge dying. The dark lord seemed really focused on getting him specifically, which would indicate he had real reason for choosing to kill the Minister. Since he's attacked our government, it would appear You-Know-who is attempting to cause disorder and confusion. I can only imagine he wants our world in chaos before he tries taking over."

"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.

"The Ministry," says Umbridge, "has for as long as the wizarding world, been under the impression the dark lord was defeated by Harry Potter sixteen years ago. Now that we understand this to be wholly untrue, the community, during this renewed time of danger and fear, must wholeheartedly lean on the Ministry for leadership. We must turn for guidance to the institution of law and order that has for hundreds of years stood against those who would seek to harm, and those who would ally with such dark creatures."

While speaking of alliances with our new Minister, it has recently come to attention that some within the Ministry, including the late Cornelius Fudge, had obvious doubts as to the loyalties of certain upstanding members of our community. A viewpoint that Delores Umbridge seems to share.

"Just before he died, Cornelius had decided to disclose to the Daily Prophet the names of some he's suspected all along might have secret leanings toward the dark lord. I find it highly suspicious that, only hours after finally vocalising those beliefs, he was murdered. It stands to reason then, that Fudge might've hit on a few truths; a few in fact the ones named mightn't have wanted made public knowledge. Perhaps one of these, in a seat of considerable importance, decided to entreat their Master to permanently quiet the Minister before more damage to his name was done. While I'm only speculating, I've always held Cornelius Fudge's opinion of others in high regard; as I do now, even after his death."

Percival Weasley who sat close on hand listening, was unwilling to comment…

Harry shook his head. "Son of a bitch."

Grimacing, Hermione plowed on.

Umbridge continues. "After Cornelius died, I asked myself who might be angry enough with the Ministry to turn so far against us. Who from the outside might be powerful enough to lift anti-apparition wards? It would have to be one familiar with the Ministry and it's workings; perhaps one who not long ago had been dismissed on bad terms from a seat of high power. One or more who, it seems, are almost always suspiciously near whenever dark activities occur.

I, as Fudge did, do feel that the dark lord has servants in our world working for him; ones who have evaded detection by being clever enough to appear to fight against him, while perhaps in reality, even aiding him. Therefore, we must be on guard for those who have in the past been conveniently near during dark attacks; those whose actions might, under a clearer light, now be deemed as questionable. Under my new direction, the Ministry will seek harder than ever before to weed those individuals out."

Minister Fudge's funeral will be held at Waterford Cemetery in two days time. As Deputy Prime Minister to Fudge, Umbridge is now slated to take over as Minister, and will be inaugurated as such in front of the full court on Monday, March eighth.

WWP-Wizarding World Press

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 21st.)

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.

The name 'Philetus Harold' floated above their heads.

"What spell have you done, son?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"We'll find out soon enough," said Percy. He waved his wand in the direction the floating letters.

"Acclaro!"

As Percy had suspected all along, the letters began to rearrange themselves.

Molly gasped aloud with recognition. With a burning horror, Arthur Weasley now recalled the name of the wizard turned Muggle who had haunted some of his dreams in school. The name had been burned into the minds of Muggles some sixty years ago, and remained to this day a bane that conjured up the worst possible visions in the minds of people everywhere, Muggle or wizard.

"My god…" Arthur breathed out.

"Minister Umbridge admires him?" Molly squeaked, grabbing onto Arthur's arm with such force that he felt sure he would come away with bruises.

Percy however, merely stared. It was as he had suspected from the moment she had begun to talk about him. The name had a few more letters in it than how it had been shown in Muggle history, but he suspected the man had shortened it to make it sound more Muggle. And now Delores Umbridge, Minister of Magic, was planning on mimicking some of his very worst deeds.

The name 'Adolphus Hitler' shone bright orange and hovering in the air for a few moments more before Arthur, roaring out loud, 'scourgified' it from his home.

************************************************

(two weeks later)

The early June sky above Hogwarts’ grounds had darkened to inky shades of blue and black, smattered with grey-edged clouds. A light sprinkling of stars and a new moon, half hidden by clouds, were the only things that lit the night.

Harry and Hermione made their way slowly round the lake to an area most open and lit by the moon, and sat side by side to watch light ripple away on the water.

Harry was content to have her by his side for a few moments, but eventually the need to have her as close as possible won out. After beckoning her closer with one of his most engaging looks, which he needn’t have worried about using, she moved onto his lap and allowed him to tuck her securely to him and circle his arms about her. She snuggled down enough to allow his chin to rest atop her head and waited for him to tell her what was on his mind, though she had a feeling she already knew. It was the same thing that had been on his mind, hers, and every other witch and wizard, no matter how young or old that lived on Hogwarts' grounds.

News of Dumbledore's suspicions, further heightened by what Percy had discovered, had not only leaked out all over school, but had made it's way all across Scotland, and wizarding England. It was no secret now the Ministry and Dumbledore were in a full out war, of sorts, with each other. Most every witch and wizard could now be divided into two categories: those who sided with the Ministry, and those who sided with Dumbledore. As predicted, the wizarding world had gone completely mad.

It was the last thing the Headmaster had wanted. The upcoming war with Voldemort and his army was imminent, but rather than having a fair many at the Ministry to count on for support, he had many who now not only looked at him as a possible supporter of Voldemort, but also as an opponent of the Ministry's "wonderful" efforts to keep the wizarding world safe. So many were so blind…

To Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and even Draco Malfoy, all of whom had been informed by Hermione of Philetus Harold's evil plots to make purifying a race seem agreeable by starting off slow with Muggle Jews, and eventually working his way up to the purification of the whole wizarding race, it seemed incredible that anyone who had heard Umbridge owned such a book would not at least question her motives toward Muggle mixed wizards and witches.

To Harry, it seemed like an omen of worse things to come. And it wasn't as if he needed one.

He hadn't shared his suspicions with Hermione that Voldemort might decide to start the war by sending Harry a final owl demanding he come to meet him alone. It would be the logical thing for the dark lord to do; to try killing Harry and therefore regain all of his full powers before the war really began.

Then again, Harry knew he didn't need to tell Hermione his thoughts for her to suspect the same thing. She wasn't called the smartest witch in school for nothing.

The threat loomed between them like something alive. In their common room, every unexpected sound made Hermione jump and whip round toward the window. With every sword and wandless magic practice Harry had with his father, he left it having worked harder and faster that day than he had the previous. At breakfast when the owl post came, both immediately tensed until any letters Harry might have received had been opened and inspected, leaving Ron to wonder exactly what they were thinking.

The two had an unspoken pact with one another that they did not talk about it, though the point of that was useless. It was too painful, and ignored about as successfully as a large pink elephant standing in the middle of the common room.

Now here they were on Harry’s request, sitting near the lake in silent companionship, his hands gently rubbing Hermione's arms as his own encircled her, keeping her warm against the night air’s slightly damp chill. But Hermione, impatient as she was, felt if he did not soon decide to tell her what was on his mind, she might perform the Legilimens spell on him just to see if she could manage it.

"Harry…" she finally whispered, unable to stand it any longer.

He had buried his nose in her hair, allowing the familiar scent to calm him. He hummed out an absent reply.

"Hmm?"

She shifted her face toward him and placed on hand on his cheek. "Will you please tell me what's bothering you? You've been so quiet today."

"It's nothing, love." He sighed quietly. "I just want to sit here with you in peace while we still can."

But the quiet usually brought about the desperation that lately always came with it. Hermione could only stand a few moments of being so close to Harry before she wanted more. At night she often woke up abruptly, sweating and jerking from some horrific nightmare about Harry's death. It was at these times they seemed to have more trouble than ever keeping themselves from going to far, because Harry felt the same way.

Their bodies were reacting to their mind's desperation to stay together, for him to never have to leave, but even Hermione as analytical as she usually was, could not bring herself to care about the reasons. Tonight, all she knew was that she wanted to bring him so close to her own body that he might somehow become part of her and never be able to leave. Tonight she wanted him to have all of her, and her to have all of him, and damn any promises…

She turned around in his embrace, straddling his lap and moving her lips so close to his he felt her breath dampen his own.

The move left him startled… for a very ..brief.. moment.

"Harry…"

She breathed out his name so quietly, and with so much need…

She began slowly grinding herself down on his lap with little circular motions, her eyes dark and large and staring into his; her lips brushing his own and her tongue sweeping out to touch his. Harry felt himself hardening; helplessly jerking upward with his hips to meet her, his hands aching to reach higher and touch her breasts…

" 'Mione… please, I can't just do this and not ..ah, Merlin.. not want to…"

She widened her eyes innocently at him. "Not want to what?"

It was a move Harry found so sexy he almost lost his control.

His crystal green gaze burned with desire. His hands came up to grab her waist, pulling her down even harder against his lap, making her movements match his own…Didn't she realise what she was doing to him? Gods, it was hard enough every single night to lie in bed with her and not…not…

"Oh shit…gods, Hermione…I'm not gonna be able to just do this and…and stop…"

She said nothing for a moment. Her legs were spread wide over his, skirt riding up to her upper thighs, hips still moving in tiny circles, her core pressing and rubbing against his crotch, her breasts pressed and moving against the hard plains of his chest, mouth open and panting… She angled her head and moved her mouth to suck slowly on his neck, dragging her soft lips over to his ear, taking the sensitive lobe between her teeth, nipping it, suckling on it, her breath against it sending tingles of desire shooting outward and downward…

Harry felt himself straining so hard against his jeans he thought he might die from the need to take her… to spread her wide and plunge into her…to make love to her so slowly that she screamed…

Hermione sighed into his ear. "Why should we…"

And with those words, all the blood left Harry's brain.

With little effort he picked her up and laid her on her back in front of him on the grass, ripped his glasses from his face and tossed them aside, covered her with his body, and began to devour her mouth with his.

He was aware of the desperation; aware of the fact they were afraid of losing each other; even aware they were close to breaking promises they had made to each other that were very real. But none of it seemed to matter at that moment.

Her legs had snaked up to wrap round his hips, making her skirt ride up even higher. Harry's hand found its way from under her jumper and moved to cover the calf behind him, smoothing its way up the long soft limb to her upper thigh… moving up even further and taking the hem of the skirt with it…

Shaking but unable to stop himself, Harry moved the same hand under her thigh and up caress her arse, marvelling at the sensation of the soft cotton nickers against the pads of his fingers; the feel of the smooth skin as those same fingers slipped beneath the elastic and moved against the softness of those pliable rounded muscles, fingernails digging in ever so slightly…

She gasped into his mouth and plunged her hands into his hair, crushing fistfuls of it and tangling it between her fingers. She let go and allowed her fingers to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt; her hands finally, greedily pushing it open, smoothing their way up the hard muscles to his tight shoulders, kneading the flesh there and smoothing back downward over the taut muscles of his abdomen and to the waistband of his jeans. The muscles spasmed as he felt her slip her hand beneath the waistband and move lower to grab him.

He gasped into her mouth and stiffened. "Oh bloody hell…"

She felt his hand smooth over even further and down to sweep the fingertips between the crack of her arse, moving lower, and lower, and lower, pausing as the tips pressed gently into her wet opening…

She tore her mouth from his and cried out softly, her hips bucking up to press herself into his hand. "Oh god! Harry, please.. please..."

He was hyperaware that they had never quite gone this far before, and knew she was as well. A sheen of sweat covered them both. She moved her hand to unbutton and unzip his jeans, her hand snaking back in to stroke him once more, but this time, beneath the boxers.

Harry's eyes flew shut, his teeth ground together so tightly he could barely strain out a sentence.

"Oh my god, Hermione…"

His thumb brushed against her clit and she arched upward, panting open-mouthed, her body begging him for more, her legs parting wider... He allowed one, then two fingers to slip inside her and began to gently thrust them in time with the jerks of her hand against him.

It quickly became too much.

Hermione gasped, her breath hitching in her chest. "Please Harry... I want you inside of me... I want all of you, please... I want you to make love to me..."

And all the promises, the love he felt for her, the way he would never ever hurt her, and the way he wanted to ensure that if he didn't make it back from his confrontation with Voldemort, she would be free to move on, all came rushing back to his mind with the full force of a wrecking ball.

And it was these things alone that allowed him to finally get hold of himself… for her.

"Hermione..." He moved his hand from her and sighed, his chin dropping to his chest. "We can't."

She stared up at him. "I want to… I want you, Harry! I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you too," Harry whispered, putting a hand to her face. "So much you won't believe it… But we promised to wait."

"Damn the promise!" Hermione cried out suddenly, grabbing his face between her hands, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "What if there's no later for us, Harry!? What if… what if something h..happens!?"

Harry's jaw stiffened and his face screwed up in an attempt not to cry. " 'Mione, I don't want you t..to have given yourself to me if something does happen... I want you to be able to..to move on..."

"You think it'll be easier that way!?" she cried almost hysterically. "You think because we haven't done it I'll be able to go on living!? It won't be that way, Harry! It won't..."

"But we'll be closer than ever then, don't you see!?" Harry exclaimed, not caring now that tears ran down his cheeks. "I can't do that to you, Hermione... I won't."

Her face crumpled, and her shoulders began to shake with sobs. Harry felt a little bit of his insides die, and wisely decided the time for words was over. He grabbed her to him and held her tight, rocking her. And not for the first time in his life, he wished he was anyone else in the world but Harry bloody Potter.

(A/N: Hey guys! My hard drive crashed a while ago and I've just now got it back up so here you go! Next chapter… Harry's finally contacted and the war begins! Lots of drama, more romance, and as much heart-pounding action as you can take… Please leave me some reviews guys… I need the encouragement, K? Love you all! Bama.)

34. Chapter 34: Final Contact

Chapter 34: Final Contact

The deadline for having all mixed blood and Muggle-born wizards and witches 'safely' shipped off had finally arrived. Umbridge, feeling she ought to publicly support her own decision, had come to the train station on a warm breezy Saturday morning and stood out of the way and to one side to personally watch the goings on.

Things were going along smoothly. The Hogsmeade Transport had been restored to its original glory and, as it had originally been a freight train, was now outfitted to provide its passengers with minimal comforts on the long trek to the Grampian Mountains.

The train station was packed with hundreds upon hundreds of witches and wizards milling about; some exchanging trunks with the luggage handlers, some running after mischievous children, some searching for friends and relatives, and others generally herding their families together in one area so as not to get separated.

At the doors to each open car, Ministry officials checked wizarding ID for security and to verify bloodlines. All wands for the duration of the trip were to be confiscated. At times, Ministry law enforcement were called on to run off cowardly pure-blooded wizards and witches who were trying to gain false access to the train to make it to the commune themselves.

As she watched the 'mudbloods' and 'Muggle-born filth' wind and twist their ways like lost ants round each other and move toward their appointed train cars, Umbridge smirked covertly to herself. With each successive boarding she could feel the knot of disgust in her abdomen loosening more and more. Each dirty-blooded family that disappeared through those doors, blissfully ignorant as to their real fates, brought her a little thrill of joy.

How proud must Voldemort be at this moment? Even now he must be sitting in his cabin, awaiting Delores' report that all had gone smoothly, and that the filth and trash that littered their world was slowly being bundled together and herded toward the bin.

Oh and how grand his plans were for them! For the duration of the war they were to be treated as less than common prisoners. All worldly goods were to be stripped from them and set aside for the remaining purebloods after the war. They were to be set to work making weapons caches and all other necessary amenities Voldemort and his army might need for the dark lord's impending world purge. Enough food would be provided to keep them alive and working, and if some died, well, they were not strong enough to be of use at any rate. Should any who remained refuse to work, they would be tortured and killed.

And after all was done with Potter and Dumbledore; Voldemort, his army, and the Dementors would gather up the defeated enemy, carry them to the commune in the mountains, and in a brilliant display of power, dispatch of them and those already there who had survived.

A delicious thrill of excitement shivered its way down Umbridge's spine. Oh what a glorious day it would be! And, along with Lucius Malfoy; both of them having been the most integral ones in bringing to fruition the dark lord's plans; she would be the one standing closest to the dark lord's side when it all came about...

However, as her small, narrow eyes swept the train station, Delores Umbridge spotted a few flies in her otherwise unpolluted ointment.

Dumbledore, Minerva McGonnagol, the werewolf Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, Arthur and Percival Weasley, (her former Prime Minister of Magic), and Harry Potter and his two friends, the blood traitor and the mudblood, stood along one side of the station watching the proceedings with mixed emotions of sadness and anger on their faces.

Umbridge watched Potter and his friends occasionally leave Dumbledore and his group to approach mudblood children who until recently had attended school with them, and who were waiting to board the train. She was sure they were attempting to persuade them and their families of the underlying sinister plot surrounding the Ministry's decision to take them away.

As Potter and his friends were turned away one right after the other and sent trudging sorrowfully back to their group of nay-sayers, watching as others from their group attempted the same strategy with adult witches and wizards that passed by, Umbridge could not help the triumphant little smirk that twisted her flat, slack face. The Ministry, along with Voldemort's Death Eaters, had done too convincing a job in plunging fear into the heart of the community. It was clear very few would refuse an opportunity to escape such danger, especially with some believing Dumbledore and Potter were in on the dark lord's plots and secretly aiding his cause. All who were going to listen to the Headmaster and the boy-wizard wonder had already done so, and it appeared no others were going to join them. Umbridge smiled. And it was all the more better for her.

As she continued to watch them, curiosity made her wonder whether Dumbledore and his entourage really understood what she had in mind for the Muggle tainted wizards and witches boarding her death train. But she was sure of one thing. If Voldemort had anything to say about it, and he most certainly did, Dumbledore, Potter and the rest would eventually be joining those traitors gathered together at the commune after the war, and would be done away with just as efficiently.

With narrowed eyes she watched the pretty mudblood, Hermione Granger, leave her group and move determinedly forward to speak with another student standing in line with her family for the train.

Umbridge recalled what hell the little swot had given her at Hogwarts with her incessant questioning and know-it-all, I'm-more-knowledgeable-than-the-professor attitude. And along with the equally as infuriating Potter lad, it had been she who had led her into the Forbidden Forest two years ago on the guise there was a hidden weapon stored there, and had allowed fate and a bunch of mongrel centaurs to decide whether she lived or died.

Umbridge's eyes flashed with something unholy, her nostrils flared, and her mouth set into a thin line. What an opportunity fate had handed her this day! Oh payback could be a bitch. And that alone would be Hermione Granger's final lesson.

*****************************

After some debate, much pleading, and assurances that former Hogwarts students might better listen to their peers rather than their professors, Dumbledore had allowed Hermione, Harry and Ron to come along with him and some of the other teachers as they attempted to persuade others to their side. Hermione was eternally grateful for the chance.

She wended her way through the crowd, swallowing back tears and wishing she could save everyone she passed. However, she knew that was impossible. She had to choose with whom she was going to argue reason, and she was choosing those she recognised.

She kept her eyes determinedly fixed far ahead in line on the long black glossy hair of her target as she weaved and bobbed her way along the station; her eyes searching for more she recognised who were further away from boarding the train. These she would approach next if Harry and Ron didn't get them first; but one at a time. Cho Chang and her family were closer in line to being whisked away to Merlin knew where, and despite she and Cho's less than friendly history in school, she was damned if she wouldn't try reasoning with her.

"Cho!" Hermione shouted, jogging as fast as she could toward her.

Cho turned her head to the side for a moment as if sure she had heard her name called, but then turned back to her mother, a pretty Asian woman who looked very much like her.

Hermione swore under her breath, a thing she rarely did. Her path was being blocked by trunks, baggage trolleys, wizarding families shooting her half- nervous, half-annoyed glances, and all other manner of blockages. And the line beside her was moving ever forward. Finally she was close to reaching her.

"Cho!" she yelled out breathlessly, dodging one small boy clutching his father's hand. "Cho, it's Hermione!"

As she skidded to a halt in front of her, Cho finally turned and fixed Hermione with a look of mild surprise. Granger's hair was wild around her face, falling in messy ringlets, and her expression looked equally as wild and full of urgency. She took Hermione's arm and led her to one side out of her family's hearing.

"Hermione," she said in carefully pleasant tones. "Um... hello. Are you waiting in line with your family?"

Hermione forcefully shook her head. "No! No, it's what I've come to talk with you about... Please don't go on this train, there's a really strong suspicion you're being taken somewhere to be harmed."

Cho frowned at her and glanced behind at her mother who was watching the two closely.

"Hermione... that's just guff. The Ministry's been trying all along to keep us safe, and Mum and Dad wouldn't have pulled me out from my first year at University of Sorcery if they didn't believe the dark lord might harm us..."

"But that's just it!" Hermione interrupted aloud, her eyes filled with begging as she wrenched her arm from the older girl's grasp. "We've got reason to believe Umbridge might be working with Voldemort to..."

"Don't say his name, are you mad!?" Cho hissed, her eyes widened with fright.

"Oh just shut up and listen to me!" Hermione shouted frantically. "Please hear me out, alright? D'you remember Percy Weasley?"

Cho snorted. "Percy Weasley the Gryffindor Prefect, or Percy Weasley the recently fired Prime Minister of Magic?"

Hermione started and stared at her. "He wasn't fired, he resigned!"

"Not what Minister Umbridge says," said Cho curtly. "She said he didn't care enough about the welfare of non pure-blooded witches and wizards; that he felt there were better, more important things to be going on about. She let him go, after. It's what the Daily Prophet said, anyway. Don't you get the paper at school anymore?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, but as I don't put much faith in it, I've not been reading it much. The Prophet's controlled by the Ministry as well, isn't it? Anything printed in there's going to be tainted by Umbridge. Anyway, we're getting off subject. Since Percy WAS Prime Minister, you'd think he had access to loads of inside information the rest of us didn't, wouldn't you?"

Cho watched her warily. "Yeah, so?"

"Cho, Percy found a book Umbridge has been studying. It's all about the atrocities Philetus Harold did to those innocent Muggles sixty years ago when he changed his name to Adolphus Hitler, disguised himself as one of them and killed almost the whole lot," Hermione babbled out, the words coming out so fast they jumbled together almost incoherently. "Think back on your Muggle studies... A lot of the strategies he used on the Muggles are awfully similar to what Umbridge is doing now... herding you all together, the train ride to a 'commune'..."

Cho gave Hermione an impatient sigh. "If you're implying what I think you are..."

"It makes sense!" Hermione said in a pleading voice, grabbing Cho's arm. "Think on what she was like in your sixth year! Wasn't she always insulting giants and unicorns and all other manner of creatures who weren't human!? Didn't she always favour Slytherin over all the other houses? And which house has always only taken pure-blooded wizards and witches!?"

"That doesn't prove anything," said Cho with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She might've been a poor professor, but that doesn't mean she's out to kill all the Muggle borns. Fact is, You-Know-Who has targeted us, and if we're hidden until he's gone, he won't be able to find us to do us any more harm."

Hermione couldn't help the tears that sprang to her eyes. "But Cho… what if we're right?"

Cho's expression hardened. "By 'we', do you mean you and Harry?"

Hermione sighed inwardly. Merlin, she really hadn't wanted to get into this with Cho...

She answered cautiously. "He's one... along with Dumbledore and a load of others."

Then the thought occurred to her to mention the defence association Harry had headed and Cho had been part of some two years ago. Perhaps if she knew most of them believed, it might persuade her to believe as well…

"And most, if not all of the former DA believes," said Hermione, almost breathless with the hope Cho might now change her mind. "We understood even then how Umbridge was up to no good... You remember being part of that, I know... "

"I remember having to fight to get Harry's attention whenever you were around. You never were happy when other girls caught his eye, now I think on it."

Exasperated, Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then opened them. "Cho, once again and for the last time, even though I thought school was the last time... I DID NOT steal Harry from you."

And to Hermione's horror, she began to tear up. Cho turned to see Harry's tall form a bit further down the station, dressed casually in a white T-shirt, faded jeans and trainers, and talking animatedly to Castor Eustance, a Muggle-born Ravenclaw. She swallowed hard and rasped out a whispered reply.

"I needed him more than you... I still do."

"See but that's the difference," said Hermione, trying even in her annoyance to be tactful. "I don't just need Harry. I love him."

"I loved him too!" Cho shouted, upset. "But you just couldn't have that, could you!? Every time we started to get a bit closer, there you were to put a stop to it!"

"I never put a stop to anything! What Harry did, he did on his own!" said Hermione, her exasperation now fully showing on her face. "Cho you never even knew Harry... not really. I just... I... I know who he is on the outside, and on the inside. I know when he's trying to act the person everyone wants him to be, and when he's being himself, which he's far better at, believe me. No matter how he tries to hide it, I know when he's tired of the world and ready to give up and I can know in an instant what made him that way because I know the right questions to ask and how and when to ask them to make him open up to me. I know when to be silent with him and when to make him talk, because I can feel what's going to make him shut himself off inside. I know what irritates him, what hurts him, what makes him angry and what makes him happy. I know every last one of his insecurities and his strengths, his ups and downs... and I still love him for them! And because I know him so well, I know how to love him. And, I know everything I've just said is the same he feels for me. Can you honestly say the same?"

Cho just stared at her; the expression frozen on her face, the tears dried. She turned her head once more to look at Harry, and saw him now standing alone and looking downtrodden, his hands shoved miserably into his pockets. Apparently he hadn't been able to convince Castor Eustance to stay off the train anymore than Hermione had been able to convince her. And though she did not believe either of them, in that instance, if put in Hermione's shoes, she knew she would have no idea what to say to comfort Harry about it.

She turned her gaze back to Hermione and gave her a feeble smile.

"I... I hope one day I find that."

Hermione smiled at her. "You will, Cho. But please... we've gone off-track and this is really important. Please try to see what danger you're in..."

Cho shook her head. "Hermione, you aren't going to convince me staying out in the open is safer than going to some hidden camp far away from You-Know-Who's reach."

Hermione looked about ready to cry. "Please, Cho..."

"No," Cho answered firmly. "And you'd do well to put yourself right on that train with us. You're fully Muggle-born. You'll be one of the first targeted."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, to try convincing Cho until there was no breath left in her lungs, but a hand grabbed round her wrist and something sharp jabbed into her back, cutting her words short.

"Miss Chang has a very good point, I think," said Delores Umbridge pleasantly, pushing the tip of her wand hard into Hermione's lower back and simultaneously slipping Hermione's wand from the back of her jeans. "You would do well to be far away from the dark lord and his followers; and as you've no wizarding relatives who really understand the threat and can try convincing you to save yourself, I must take it upon myself to help along your decision. After all, if one of my students were to fall to an attack, and I had not done everything I possibly could to prevent it, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Cho gazed at the both of them quizzically and Hermione opened her mouth to speak out, but felt Umbridge shove the wand even further into her back. She let out a small hiss of pain and hoped, pleaded with all deities that were listening that Cho could see what was happening. However, after a moment, it became clear she could not see Umbridge's wand.

"She's right Hermione, you'll see. We've never really been friends, I know, but I... I'd really hate to hear something had happened to you."

Hermione stared at the other girl, her eyes wide and pleading, begging her to see something very, very wrong was happening, but Cho merely gave a firm little nod as if something that had been slightly off was being put right, and watched as Umbridge began to march Hermione toward the head of the line for the train.

"No worries Miss Granger," Umbridge hissed happily in her ear as she prodded her along. "You'll be with the rest of your kind, safe and sound against the dark lord, won't you? You'll want to thank me once all this is over, I should think."

Hermione growled aloud. "Thank you!? I'd gladly murder you if given half a chance..."

Umbridge jabbed her hard in the spine as they walked, causing the girl to cry out a bit.

"Careful," the Minister snarled through gritted teeth. "I could finish you off with one spell and no one here would think twice on it. I could make it look as if you'd tried to harm me. Assaulting the Minister of Magic would call for serious measures, would it not?"

Hermione turned her head as far as she could to see if she could spot Harry, but he was no where to be seen; lost amongst the crowd. Dumbledore, Ron, and the rest were all dispersed here and there as well, and none were looking her way.

Inside, she began to despair. Hot tears stung at her eyes. Her heart began beating at the speed of a snitch. Small beads of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. Gods, was she going to be forced onto that death train? She would be inside, locked in a compartment and gone before anyone could find what had happened to her...

Oh my god, Harry please see me…

"Almost there," Umbridge whispered, keeping a smile plastered on her face and nodding pleasantly to everyone who looked her way. A few more yards and they would be at the front. No one would question the girl being brought ahead of them to board, after all, it was the Minister of Magic escorting her…

Someone help me, oh gods please, please, please…

Umbridge gave an ominous little chuckle. "Just a bit closer and you'll be on your way to safety. Just think... no more worrying on the war until it's over..."

"Save your lies," Hermione choked out, her face now white with rage and her voice cracking with panic and fear. "You and I both know your plans for all of these have nothing to do with safety."

Umbridge shrugged. "As you wish."

As they passed by a few witches and wizards stared, but seemed to think nothing of Umbridge escorting her to the front of the train. Hermione's heart sank even further. For the love of Merlin could they not see the expression on her face? If she yelled out, if she screamed, she had no doubt Umbridge would kill her on the spot and make it seem like self-defence.

Oh god, oh god, oh god...

They had reached one open car. Hermione looked up into the face of the wizard guiding people on board and felt as if she were staring at her executioner. Here was the Ministry appointed official who would be escorting her to her death... Strange how normal he appeared; not a trace of hostility in his features...

She decided to take a chance and turned round to face Umbridge one last time.

"Just let me go, please Minister. Moment they find me missing Harry and Professor Dumbledore will suspect you. And it isn't as if we've stood tall and screamed out to everyone what you're planning..."

"And you don't think I know the only reason you haven't is because too many already suspect Dumbledore and Potter of supporting the dark lord, and because the moment you did you'd be arrested?" Umbridge favoured Hermione with a condescending little smirk. "Oh no, Miss Granger. You'll be getting on this train. This goes much further back than just today. I've never got to pay you back for the torment you caused me at Hogwarts. I'll take my revenge today, I think."

Something jabbed the Minister sharply in the back, causing her to gasp sharply.

"I don't think so," a deep, deadly voice sounded quietly behind her.

Umbridge watched the colour return to Granger's face; the girl's eyes closing briefly in relief before opening to gaze gratefully into eyes that must be a good two feet above the Minister's own head. Though the voice behind her sounded deeper and more mature, there was no guessing needed to tell who it was. She made a move to turn round but the wand stabbed even further into the fat lining her ribs.

"Don't turn."

"Potter," Umbridge snarled angrily.

"Shut the hell up," Harry whispered angrily through gritted teeth. "Now... you tell that porter you're just stepping to the side to have a word, and you'll be back in a moment."

"Damn you to hell, you little bastard..."

"You do it, or years on they'll still be finding bits of you along these tracks," Harry growled out in a sort of deadly calm voice that chilled not only Umbridge, but Hermione to the bone.

"Try it," Umbridge persisted hatefully. "You'll be in thrown in Azkaban so quickly you won't have time to whine for your dead parents."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "You bitch..."

"Hermione, don't." Harry said quickly over Umbridge's head as Hermione made to move forward. The fact Umbridge had shrunk back against him from the sight of his girlfriend's rage made him feel like glowing with pride. He bent down to whisper menacingly in the Minister's ear.

"You think threatening me with Azkaban will work? I know what you tried to do to Hermione. I hope you make a move. Go on, give me a reason."

A familiar harsh voice behind Potter suddenly sounded out as well. "And if he misses I'm next for a go."

Umbridge realised she had no choice. The porter standing in the doorway above her was oblivious to the details of the conversation going on below him, and only looked on with the sort of bored impatience one might have when working a particularly dull job.

"If you please Minister, the line's being held up," the porter finally said with a sigh.

Umbridge smiled feebly up at him, giving a little 'oomph' of discomfort as Harry jabbed her impatiently with his wand.

"I'll just be moving to the side for a while then," she simpered her voice wavering. "Bit of unfinished business to attend to. Please continue."

The porter merely nodded and waved the person behind Hermione, Harry, Ron and Umbridge on board.

The four moved to the side away from any listening ears, and Umbridge whirled round swiftly to eye the three teens with a look that could have set fire to the entire train station.

"You bastarding little blood traitors... Filthy little mudblood bitch!" She heaved out furiously.

At her words, Harry had to physically hold himself in check, his eyes blazing with hatred.

"Just you wait until it's all ended," Umbridge continued in a crazed sort of frenzy. "Should you survive, I'll personally ask my lord to murder you three first!"

"Oh, I think we're already tops on his schedule," Ron answered, giving his wand a lazy toss and catching it effortlessly.

Umbridge scowled at him with pure loathing, but upon glancing down, noticed Harry was the only one minus his wand.

She smiled rigidly. "Frightened to show you're armed, Potter? You should be. Threatening the Minister of Magic is a serious offence. And since I’m head of the Ministry, I'll leave your punishment up to myself, I think."

"You won't be punishing anyone," said Hermione stonily, glaring daggers at her. "You tried forcing me onto that train. The decree is clear about the trip being voluntary. You say anything and I'll keep you in court for months, tied up with injustice hearings."

"You think a jury will believe you over me!?" Umbridge spouted in disbelief. She laughed mockingly at her. "You're a mudblood and a nutter, aren't you!?"

"Don't call her that!" Harry suddenly yelled aloud, his whole body bristling and his eyes glowing a furious Slytherin-hued green such as Umbridge had never ever witnessed before.

The Minister took a step back in fright; her body shaking uncontrollably and, as she stared, her eyes watering from the intense glow. As she watched the brilliant light finally recede from the younger man's eyes a sudden thought occurred to her. She glanced down at Harry's wandless hand.

"You... you never even had a wand, did you..."

Harry merely stared at her and smirked unpleasantly.

"And what would you have done Potter," she hissed contemptuously, "if I'd suddenly decided to call your bluff?"

Harry shrugged. "Call it now if you want. I don't need a wand any more."

Umbridge stared at him, her face suddenly draining of all colour.

"Y.. you little liar..." she sputtered hatefully, although her lips shook with fear as she spoke. "You filthy little liar!"

Harry turned his back on the tirade to look at Hermione.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes full of a wretched guilt as he gazed down at her.

"I'm sorry... Love, I'm so sorry I didn't see you sooner, gods..."

"It's alright, Harry," said Hermione, pulling him into a hug and sagging gratefully into his embrace. "You came in time. It's alright."

For a moment he leaned his forehead against her own; relief that he had seen her before it was too late washing over him so powerfully it left him weak. He released her and nodded to Ron, who began walking with her back toward Dumbledore and the rest.

Harry however, turned slowly back round to face Umbridge once again; his eyes blazing and his expression set with such ferocity and wrath she felt sure he might strike her down, impending prison sentence or no.

He took a step closer and glared down at her speaking in a deep, hostile tone. "I'll be watching for you when it all comes to a head. Count on it."

Though shaking from the fierceness in his voice, Umbridge affected a superior air.

"I'll be watching for you as well, Potter. In the end, when he's finally ready to rid himself of you, the dark lord has promised me front row viewing." She smiled triumphantly up at him. "And I know you're a liar as well as a blood traitor. Even my master uses a wand, and he's infinitely more powerful than an arrogant little bastard like you."

"I don't give a shit what you think you 'know'," said Harry flippantly. "Though, now I think on it, there is one wand I still have use for."

With that, he pulled a hand lazily out of his pocket and flipped her off.

Umbridge flushed almost purple with rage.

Harry grinned nastily at her; a look of immense satisfaction on his face. He shoved the offensive 'wand' back in his pocket and turned to make his way back down the train station as well.

Some standing directly near saw the exchange, but either murmured amongst themselves or continued to move forward toward the train. Confrontations between the Ministry and its opposing factions were common occurrences these days, though the fact it had been the Boy-Who-Lived having a nasty exchange with the Minister of Magic was something to gossip on, to say the least.

****************************************************

Three days of solemnity passed for the wizarding world, and for Hogwarts. The school seemed as if it had been stripped down to bare bones and felt intensely empty and even lonely from lack of so many students. Curiously, it had been Slytherin house that had lost the most. While most others had been removed from the school for being Muggle mixed or just from having extremely frightened parents, Slytherin was known for being the only house carrying the strictly pure-blooded.

It came across as particularly odd to Harry, Hermione and Ron that so many of them had left school.

Even amidst the unsettled chaos Dumbledore made certain that regular school activities continued, and began a newer regiment at school to try alleviating the even more intense separation the school houses now felt from one another. At each mealtime he had everyone, no matter what house they belonged to, sit together along two tables. It was all the school needed any more since holding such fewer students. Classes were also changed to allow a mixture of same year students from all houses. The Headmaster was determined now more than ever to heed the Sorting Hat's song and pull everyone together before Hogwarts ended up, as the hat had warned, 'crumbling from within'.

He had good reason to worry on it.

The students had begun warring with each other much like the rest of the wizarding world had. There were those who stood with the Ministry's 'safety' plans and who also suspected Dumbledore and Harry of having an alliance with Voldemort; and those who supported Dumbledore's dark theories on Delores Umbridge, and who knew beyond any doubt neither the Headmaster nor Harry Potter would ever join with the dark lord.

Both sides went at each other constantly, and hardly a day went by when a professor wasn't called on to break up one or more fights. No room in the castle was immune. Madame Pince had nearly gone mental over one battle in the library that had toppled two bookshelves. During Care of Magical Creatures, an argument broke out between sixth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors that, before he could end it, left Hagrid's new patch of cabbages in ruins. Professor McGonnagol was given no choice but to hex one Ravenclaw, one Slytherin and two Gryffindors for starting a scuffle in the middle of Transfiguration that she could not break apart despite her yelling from the top of her lungs.

However, Draco Malfoy by far had it the worst. He was constantly put on the defence from the few remaining members of Slytherin, and it seemed every day brought about a new brawl between him and some other house mate; though Ginny Weasley stood staunchly by him.

To Harry, Hermione and Ron, it seemed the entire world had gone completely mad. Everyone's nerves seemed stretched to their ultimate limits, what with the stress and anxiety of impending war, and every day school activities that still needed to be gone on about. It was one week until final testing for the entire school, and the strain of everything combined put on professors, students and staff alike had really begun to take it's toll.

For Harry however, on the day 'IT' finally happened, everything progressed so quickly and in such unbroken order, that he felt as if he moved through it in some false dream-like state.

The morning had brought about little drama, although since the Daily Prophet had begun giving small status reports on the well-being of the Muggle-mixed who had been recently whisked away to safety, (whereabouts not stated for 'safety reasons'), Hermione had decided to once again read the newspaper. The articles promised every witch, wizard, and child were being well taken care of, though since these reports were being fed to the Prophet by none other than the Minister of Magic herself, the only one privy to such information, no one loyal to Dumbledore put much faith in it's truthfulness.

It was now June tenth, three days until N.E.W.T.s and end of the school year O.W.L.s. Graduation had been set for June sixteenth, and since classes were officially over and the days remaining had been set aside strictly for study, students were seen all over the castle and its grounds surrounded by books, wands, cauldrons, quill and parchment, and all other manner of magical study implements.

The general atmosphere round school was one of barely controlled frenzy. House elves had been asked politely by Professor Dumbledore if they would not mind for a while being on constant call should any student need a snack break or a particularly strong caffeinated brew.

Professors were sent to each area of study to make certain no new fights broke out, and to keep extra watch on students who had decided to study outside. Dumbledore and Professor McGonnagol were busy contacting Professor Marchbanks and her colleagues to schedule the exact time of their arrival, and any staff who at this particular time in the school year would not normally be loaded with duties were sent round the outer edges of Hogwart's grounds to ensure security wards were still strong and in place.

Near the castle and standing in the shade one gigantic wall provided, Professor Snape stood rigidly watching over the outside students; his greasy hair covering most of what was an extremely sour expression. Pulling guard duty, it seemed, was the last thing he wanted to have to do.

The late Saturday afternoon was much like any other, if one didn't count the obvious lesser number of students, the now shared knowledge that Voldemort was indeed back, and the palpable feeling of dread that permeated the atmosphere. All were trying to go about business as usual, but although they knew Hogwart’s grounds were perfectly safe, the constant fear of what might happen to the world outside their small fortress weighed heavily on their minds.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying their dead best to go on with regular activities as well, but as the threat of Voldemort and the war was to them so much more real, they had a harder time pretending. On the outside they were sure they appeared like the rest, but on the inside, they were filled with dread on what was to come.

The June air was warm, clean, and filled with the scent of mountain breezes. Each ripple on the lake caught some beam of the late afternoon’s rose- coloured sun and turned to threads of pinkish gold along the water. Students lolled about on green grass, under lazily waving trees, or near the lake; some alone, some in pairs and others in large groups. Although most were studying, there was much less of the lightness or laughter that usually accompanied such a beautiful weekend. Most were solemn.

Ron glanced up from studying The N.E.W.T.s Abbreviated: A Summary for Seventh Years, by Marceo Angustus and once again set his eye on his sister and Draco Malfoy who were sitting some distance away near the lake, and getting on entirely too well for his liking. From the corner of his eye, he caught Hermione again peer disapprovingly over her Ancient Runes textbook at the volume in his hand. She sighed in a conspicuous manner and turned her eyes back to her studies, making it quite obvious she wanted herself heard.

Ron set his jaw in a mulish way, rolled his eyes, and resigned himself to the inevitable.

"What, Hermione? Go on and lecture me. Get it all out of your system, why don’t you…"

She narrowed her eyes reproachfully at him, but lowered her book to scold him anyway.

He had known she would.

"I simply can’t believe you’re studying that rubbish instead of your school books!" She finally admonished. "Ron, you aren’t going to pass N.E.W.T.s with some set of wizarding cliff’s notes! Where you got the idea anyway is beyond me."

Harry glanced up from his seventh year Transfiguration primer and smirked, clearly amused.

Hermione sent him a disapproving look as well, but he merely winked at her.

Ron grinned craftily. "Where I got the idea is closely guarded upon penalty of death."

Harry chuckled.

"As for not passing, there’s where you’re wrong," Ron continued in a conspiratorial manner. "This isn’t just some outline, ‘Mione. It’s an actual copy of recent past N.E.W.T.s. And everyone knows from year to year the tests don’t actually change much. All I’ve got to do is study the basics of this little book and I’m all set."

He thumped the back of the thin volume and leaned back against the elm tree with a satisfied smile on his face.

"And who told you the tests don’t change from year to year?" asked Hermione.

"Andrew Kirke," said Ron, yawning lazily. "His brother dates Professor Marchbanks' sister’s granddaughter’s best friend."

"How’s that?" asked Harry sarcastically, leaning back on his elbows

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Anyhow she told Andrew’s brother her friend told her that Professor Marchbanks and the rest go by a standard test so they don’t have to think up a new one each year," said Ron smirking triumphantly. "Andrew’s brother gave him this little book he found at Flourish and Blotts his last year at Hogwarts. Said all he used was this and he got an E in practically every area."

"Yeah, but Ron you don’t think Marchbanks and the rest would change the test every year just for that reason?" asked Harry. "If they kept it the same she’d know some of us would try nicking the plans for it or something. There’d be a right little black market going on…"

Ron was hardly listening. His face was full of meditative glee. "Fred and George’ll piss themselves once they see Mum falling all over me for getting all E’s. ‘Course they didn’t actually take the N.E.W.T.s, did they? But it won’t matter. They’ll be sickened all the same. Gods, I can’t wait to see their faces…"

"Ron," said Hermione, now thoroughly exasperated. "I know for a fact the test is changed every year."

Ron rolled his eyes over her way and sighed. "Yeah? And how is that?"

"I asked her."

Ron frowned and sat up straight. "Asked who?"

"Professor Marchbanks!" Hermione blurted out, annoyed. "I asked her last year during O.W.L.s."

Harry looked on, wholly entertained, as Ron went from disbelief to confusion to alarm in a matter of seconds.

"Wh..what’d you mean…"

"I mean I asked her Ron, as in I walked up and posed a question." Hermione repeated, scooping up her Ancient Runes textbook once again and lifting it in front of her face to read. "I wanted to know."

Ron blustered aloud and held the little book of cliff’s notes in front of him. "Well then what the hell is…"

"Did you pay for it?" Harry broke in with a smile.

Ron scowled, annoyed at him. "Everyone has. You think Andrew’d give away something like this? He’s made a killing."

Harry waited for the inevitable, staring at Ron until a look of horror finally dawned on his friend’s face.

Ron clenched his fists and stood. "I’ll murder him. I’m gonna reach down his throat and pull out his small intestines…"

"It actually never crossed your mind he might be snowballing you?" Harry grinned, still leaning comfortably back on his elbows.

"Well he's sold it to everyone, hasn't he?" Ron blustered defensively. "I'm not the only one who fell for it!"

He turned his back on Harry, who seemed to be enjoying Ron’s own tribulations far too much for his liking and, muttering expletives, began to stomp back toward the castle to deal with a certain fellow Gryffindor.

However, just then and completely unforeseen, the light atmosphere of an otherwise ordinary day was suddenly and inexplicably drenched with darkness.

Harry would later say what happened next literally began the day from hell.

An ear-splitting, wrenching explosion like the firing of hundreds of cannons all at once suddenly split the calm early evening. The ground shook violently, the vibrations throwing students off their feet and causing a once calm lake to begin lapping and crashing with shock waves, each one larger than the next.

In a matter of seconds, an eruption of blind, stampeding panic took over the grounds.

Terrified, Hermione screamed and crawled toward Harry who, having had his elbows knocked from under him, had hit his head hard on the ground.

He brought himself painfully to a sitting position on the still trembling earth, thoroughly shaken and startled, and turned wide eyes toward the general direction of the blast.

An impossibly large, thundering pillar of fire had erupted some four miles away, lighting the once dusky purple sky beyond forests of trees with flames of bizarre reddish light. It roared upward with such raging force that it left a great, dark mushroom-shaped cloud billowing larger and larger in it's wake.

Hermione turned wildly in Harry's arms, watching in disbelief as screaming students began to make their ways toward the school, stumbling along and being pushed unceremoniously toward the great double doors by a screaming and thoroughly unsettled Professor Snape.

"Get inside NOW!" He yelled, pushing and shoving students toward the castle. "All of you, to the Great Hall and DO NOT MOVE from there, you understand!? GO!"

Ron scrambled back toward Harry and Hermione and threw himself on the ground beside them.

"Are you alright!?"

"Yeah," said Harry breathlessly, his eyes transfixed on the sky as it turned grey with smoke. The blast had been so powerful, the sky now began raining black ash all along Hogwarts grounds. "How about you?"

"Been better," Ron panted excitedly, rubbing his back and ruffling ash out from his hair. "Threw me to the ground. But we've got to get inside, mates. Snape's forcing everyone to the Great Hall. Dumbledore's just made it outside..."

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonnagol at the bottom of the great stone steps leading inside the castle, each looking startled and out of breath from running. McGonnagol put a hand to her mouth as she regarded the now greyish smoke-filled sky and her eyes flitted over the grounds to land on Harry, Hermione and Ron, still huddled under the elm tree.

"Great Merlin's Ghost! Potter, Granger, Weasley... get your arses in here NOW!"

Harry stood to his feet and pulled Hermione up with him. He regarded Ron apprehensively over the top of her head as the three moved quickly toward the castle.

"That was Hogsmeade, Ron. He blew up Hogsmeade..."

"I know, mate."

Hermione swiped at the tears tickling her cheeks and accepted Dumbledore's hand as he helped her up the steps into the castle.

**********************************************

Hogwarts' remaining students huddled together in a frightened mass near the front of the Great Hall, talking so fast and all at once with each other that not much could be determined from the madness, save extreme fear. The remaining professors and staff had already made it down to the Great Hall, and were currently doing their best to calm frantic, hysterical students, despite being more than frightened themselves. More than a few students’ voices were heard quite clearly above the din exclaiming they now wished they had taken the Hogsmeade Express and gone away with the rest to safety. Many others began arguing with them, and it took very little time amidst the chaos for fighting to begin once again.

It was one of the things that maddened Harry most as he, Hermione and Ron were ushered into the Great Hall by Professors McGonnagol and Dumbledore, the latter of whom swept in looking by all accounts, more solemn, majestic, and authoritative than ever he had done before.

He did not look at any one student, but left most gaping and swarming in his wake as he moved to the front behind his school podium and raised his arms.

"SILENCE!"

He thundered the word so loudly that it echoed off the walls and left everyone utterly speechless. All quarrelling stopped, and every eye turned toward the Headmaster.

"We will not panic! We will not succumb to terror! And once and for all, WE WILL NOT FIGHT AMONGST OURSELVES for NOTHING will be accomplished by it!"

Those who had been involved in the arguments still had enough sense about themselves to look ashamed and immediately moved away from one another.

But separation was the last thing Dumbledore wanted.

"If any amongst you are injured, I ask you to stand if you are able and move toward the back of the hall, where Madame Pomfrey and Hermione Granger will see to you."

A bit startled, Hermione turned a surprised look to Ron and Harry, and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze before moving back through the crowd toward where a nervous Madame Pomfrey stood, looking a bit out of sorts, but completely ready to handle any situation.

Harry watched them consort with one another and then turned his attention back toward the front.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, trying his best to speak with a voice that sounded completely in control of the situation. "Professor McGonnagol and I will be leaving you in capable hands as we leave to find exactly what has happened. While we are gone, I want the rest of you to sit down at these tables together. I want you to think on all the tragedy that has recently transpired. Remember the song the sorting hat has sung to you for the past two years. Remember how it has continually warned us that should we continue to divide amongst ourselves, our school will crumble from within."

Dumbledore’s face seemed even more impossibly lined as he studied the young wizards and witches before him; his very manner pleading with them to open their ears and minds and listen to him. The students began to make their ways slowly toward the two long tables that remained in the hall

"What we have most feared has finally befallen us," Dumbledore continued, "and yet, while most on the outside has fallen apart, our institution still stands. We must fight to keep it standing. If we are to be strong enough to defeat what might soon come our way we must come together, not as different houses within a school, but as four parts of a whole. As Professor Trelawny has correctly divined, the four parts of our circle must join."

Harry and Ron stared at each other, jaws gaping open. It was the same conclusion they and Hermione had come upon some months back after the Divination teacher’s prediction. And here it was, being confirmed for them in front of their very eyes.

However, Dumbledore’s next words were not what they had expected.

"As such," he continued gravely, "Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as they stand today are NO MORE. We will no longer be divided and sorted by our personalities, attributes and strong points."

Instant outcries and murmurings erupted at his words. Even some of the Professors looked taken aback.

The Headmaster held up his hands for silence and looked sternly out into the crowd.

"You will still be allowed to live in your same houses, but the name by which you are called, will no longer separate you from one another, or summarise who you are. For too long our school has been divided with competitions, discord and rivalry. It has caused us to separate from amongst ourselves, and at a time when our world is in most danger, there is no more room for division of any sort. You may still be called brave Gryffindor, intelligent Ravenclaw, gracious Hufflepuff and shrewd Slytherin, but as we are all well aware, no one witch or wizard can be summed with one quality or characteristic. Every one of us, with every one of our strongest traits, will be needed when facing such evil. We are all parts of a whole, if we will allow it. Divided, we can do nothing, but together, we stand strong. We will bond together, and we will oppose this evil together… or we will fall with the rest."

He had spoken with such eloquence and truth, that no one dared disagree.

The sound of silence was deafening as Dumbledore and McGonnagol swept from the Great Hall as abruptly as they had come in. Very soon though, the students began talking amongst each other once more, all conspiring on what had been targeted outside the school, and what exactly had given off such a strong explosion.

It was odd to look up and see the enchanted ceiling continue to depict the outside sky, with ash floating down like great grey snowflakes, and smoke clouds floating lazily overhead. It seemed like an omen of worse things to come, and no one, even those who had not yet been personally affected by Voldemort’s actions, was daft enough to think there weren’t more horrid days ahead.

After Hermione and Madame Pomfrey finished taking care of the few wounded, Hermione wended her way back through the crowd to sit with Harry and opposite Ron once again.

An odd feeling of dread that had nothing to do with what had just happened had begun coursing through her the moment Dumbledore had finished his speech. She had never put any stock in Divination, ESP or any art form associated with such rubbish and yet, she felt if she did not move as close to Harry as possible once she was able, he might somehow disappear like mist before her very eyes. Something worse was coming. Something that was going to rip her heart to shreds. She knew it, and she feared it so wholly that she snaked her arms round his waist and held on as if her life depended on it.

Hermione was not a clingy witch by any stretch, so Harry knew something beyond the obvious was wrong as she sat near him, trembling and grasping fistfuls of his shirt so that he could hardly move.

He put his arms about her for comfort and leaned down to whisper to her, staring into a face that had gone pale.

"Hermione… love, what is it…"

But she merely shook her head and stared straight ahead, her hands clenched so tightly in his shirt that her slim knuckles had gone white.

Ron looked curiously from Hermione to Harry, but Harry had no answering look to give him. Whatever was wrong she was unwilling to say, so he would be content to hold her and hope she would tell him later.

Dumbledore and McGonnagol re-entered the Great Hall an hour later; their whole beings carved with such grimness that the area felt electrified with apprehension once more.

"It is as we feared," said Dumbledore gravely, standing before them all once again. "The Ministry has informed me that Hogsmeade and those who decided to remain there have been attacked, and most of the village destroyed. We do not yet know how many lives were lost, but as we are the closest establishment near the village and have an infirmary here, those who are too injured to be transported safely to St. Mungo's will be brought here for treatment. As I have said before, Hogwarts and it's grounds are heavily charmed with protections. We will extend those protections and our resources to those who are now in need of them."

He turned his attention briefly to Madame Pomfrey as she looked absolutely overwhelmed at the potential prospect of so many being brought to her for care.

"Poppy, healers and medi-wizards not immediately needed at St. Mungo's will be flooing here to assist you, so no worries… you will be properly staffed. As for the rest of you," he said, eyeing the students who sat round the two tables, and who all looked as if they had no idea what to do with themselves, "You will all immediately move back to your houses for the night. I understand it is not near curfew, but given the events of this evening, it is imperative we know where each one of you are, and I have no doubt we are all in need of a good rest. Our head boy and girl, and your house prefects will now begin leading you to your dorms. I will see you all tomorrow morning at breakfast... Dismissed."

With a weary sigh Dumbledore watched Harry, Hermione and the house prefects round up the students and shuffle them out into the hallways.

The Hall was left once again in relative silence and, looking upward, Dumbledore regarded the charmed ceiling much as the rest had done earlier. The outside sky was clearing, and ash only fell here and there now upon the ground. He was sure the outside looked littered with some odd form of freshly fallen grey snow, and wondered to himself just how many more witches and wizards had been murdered this night.

He turned his eyes back to the remaining teachers and staff who all stood round the Great Hall, and noticed how, now all the students had left, most pretence of courage and control had been dropped. The adults staring at him for some sign of what to do next seemed equally as lost and without comfort as the young ones had. And truth be told, Dumbledore felt the same.

What was there to do next but wait? With no idea where Voldemort and his forces were located, despite efforts from his Aurors to find them, all that could be done was to wait for the dark lord to show himself. Then would begin the greatest, most significant war the wizarding world had ever known.

As the Headmaster motioned the teachers and staff to the two long student tables to conference with them, somehow he had a deep suspicion that the time for it was undeniably near.

*******************************************

TONIGHT THE COLD - E.D.

"…This is the most silent of nights.

Inside my head the noise, the panic, the rushing.

Outside, the sky suffocates the stars, which are less than before. More will die before the morning. None will be born, on this night, or shine too bright, of all nights.

Cold and the window open and the stars the only movement, and from them the cold comes…"

The night had turned cool, black and starless. Greyish clouds hid the moon, not the least of which Harry was sure were still mixed with smoke from the explosion.

Cold as the night air had become, it was incomparable to the icy dread that clutched its fingers round his heart.

He and Hermione had long since turned in for the night. Moment they had slipped into his bed Hermione had snuggled closely to him, tangled her arms and legs with his, and wrapped so bodily round him that even when sleep had finally come she had not let go. He held to her just as tightly, his chin resting atop her head and his arms wrapped round her, pressing her face into his neck and chest, with the rest of her body flush against his. It was more than instinct that made him understand her need for security this night, and he knew he needed it just as desperately.

Harry had finally given up on sleeping, himself. Anxiety wrapped round his thoughts and continued to coil downward to pit into his chest and stomach, twisting his insides and tightening round his nerves like twine.

Hours passed.

The Muggle clock over his bureau read two fifteen a.m. The only time he allowed his eyes to stop searching the darkness outside his window was to read the time. He had begun dreading the nights, though for obvious reasons, this one in particular made his heart thrum even faster in his chest.

Even before the explosion, most of Hogsmeade’s inhabitants had already left. Though there were still a few stubborn witches and wizards who had refused to go, there had been no apparent reason to destroy over half of it, save one Harry could think of. Hogsmeade was close enough to Hogwarts for its destruction to serve as warning to the school, or more particularly, someone within the school.

Was this the sign he had been waiting for? Was Voldemort even now standing amongst some vast army giving instructions, examining fighting skills, or going over strategies while he waited for his final note to reach his enemy?

It was why Harry could not take his eyes from the window. Why even now, his mind tricked him over and over into seeing some shadow, some outline of the ominous against the blackness of the sky. He blinked his eyes once, twice, and upon opening them, still found nothing there.

He rubbed at his tired eyes with the heel of one free hand, and craned his neck to kiss the top of Hermione’s sleeping head.

And still his gaze returned to the window. This was the night. He was sure of it.

And finally, as if his certainty had somehow made it so, a soft tapping came from the window.

He jolted against Hermione, causing her to stir a bit. Inwardly, he raged at himself. For her to wake was the last thing he wanted. If he was to have to leave her, it would be much less painful if she were not awake to try talking him out of it.

Slowly he untangled himself from her limbs; many times sure he was going to startle her awake. Blessedly though, she slept on.

He stood as slowly as he could from the bed, careful not to make the sudden shift of weight noticeable.

He snatched his glasses from off the night stand and shoved them onto his face, suddenly aware of the dark fuzzy outline of a post owl perched impatiently on the sill of his window.

And Harry’s heart felt as if it suddenly froze mid-beat and sank into his stomach like a lead weight.

Not needing his wand, he held a hand out in front of him as he crept slowly and cautiously forward.

The owl was well trained and simply stared at him with yellow, lantern-like eyes as he approached. Noiselessly, Harry slid the window open. It stuck out its leg for him as if midnight post was a regular occurrence and, with shaking hands, he untied the small scroll from its leg.

Soon as he had done the owl hooted once and, with a gentle whooshing of long black wings, took off into the night. Harry closed the window softly and moved back toward where he had carelessly thrown his tee shirt and jeans the night before. After dressing he turned one last time to let his eyes sweep over Hermione’s form, sleeping so peacefully in his bed, and moved quietly out into the common room.

Because of the unusually cold night, before retreating to his bed they had lit a fire in the hearth and sat in front of it on the couch, cuddling. As Harry stood before it now, restless shadows dancing across the dark wooden walls, orange flames reflected in his lenses and, clutched in his hand, what he knew was his final note from the dark bastard, all he saw in the dancing fire was Hermione’s face. The way she had kept glancing at him as if he might disappear as they sat silently in front of the hearth, holding one another; the way her soft skin, warm like liquid velvet had felt against his hands; how the firelight had spun copper-gold into her long curls; how, when she had glanced at him with those doe-brown eyes, he was sure she didn't know the flames had done little to hide her tears.

They had both known, but said nothing. It had gone well beyond suspicion that tonight was to be the night Voldemort would contact him. Somehow, in some way beyond reach, Harry knew Ron had felt it as well.

He opened his fist to regard the small scroll crushed in his hand and decided stalling would change nothing. He sat on the couch and unrolled it, his eyes quickly scanning words once again appearing before him in a glowing blood red.

Potter,

It is time. No more games. No more rhyming notes.

By now you are aware of my power, and of the army at my command. However, I suspect you are not aware of the knowledge I have acquired. I know of your abilities with wandless magic. I know for months you have been training with your bastarding father at the sword. I am also well aware of Dumbledore’s pathetic attempts at building an army in hopes it will be able to best mine.

I know your strengths, your weaknesses, your enemies, and your friends… I know those you hate… and those you claim to ‘love’. The mudblood whore you are bedding is not so safe as you think.

I am well aware Dumbledore has reinstated the floo network at Hogwarts,, and though he has ensured only those he trusts may be allowed entrance by it to your school, he has placed no such wards on outgoing passage. As such, I have the power to force my will on the one who has turned traitor in your midst. Should you fail to come to me this very night, I will grab the boy when he next contacts me and perform the Imperious curse. The moment your back is turned, the Granger mudblood will die, and as you will have no idea who her attacker is until the deed is done, you have no way of preventing it.

Be forewarned, Harry. Should you arrive with others, the whore will meet her fate by my servant’s hand. If even he should fail, know this: I will not stop hunting her. You can be assured I will pass the task along to another, and even to another until it is complete.

Meet me tonight at the place where we fought before.

The words struck him as if he had been kicked hard in the gut. The air in the room suddenly felt stale and unbreathable. His heart began to jump unevenly within his chest. The sweat beaded on his body trickled cold as ice down his back.

Voldemort had a servant at Hogwarts? The thought some traitor had been watching his, Hermione's, and Ron's every move without their knowledge made him sick to his stomach. If he had the time, Harry knew he would go through every male in Hogwarts one by one until he found the little shit.

Unfortunately, time was one thing of which he had very little.

Somehow he had known it would come down to Hermione. Especially after the events of last year, Voldemort knew his girlfriend was the one person most valuable to him.

In his mind, Harry could almost see the images of the near future playing out before him like some bizarre sneak preview. He knew even now, Voldemort must be sitting in that damnable cabin in the Kavan Forest, a smile stretching his horrid skeletal face, thinking close to the exact same things Harry himself was.

He knew the dark lord knew him; knew how much Harry loved Hermione and would do anything to protect her. He knew Voldemort was sure he would come.

Harry crushed the note in his fist.

He was right.

He strode to the back of the room and grabbed one of Hermione’s quills, an ink pot, and a small piece of parchment. Despite himself, a large lump throbbed painfully in his chest as he sat and began to write.

Hermione,

He’s finally contacted me. As much as it kills me to leave you, I have to go. Even though we never talked on it, you and I both knew he was going to want me alone. I think you knew it tonight. I know you don’t understand or agree, but this is something I have to do. Please listen to me, love. Stay at Hogwarts until the danger is passed. I’ve asked Ron before to take care of you should anything happen to me, and he’s promised he would. I’ll do my best to come back to you. I love you all there is, Hermione. Remember that. I’ve searched my whole life for what I have in you. My life is so tangled up in you, I've somehow become more full of your soul than my own, do you know that? Every day I wake up thinking I’ve loved you as wide and high and deep as I can, and then you open your eyes and I’m wrong. 'Mione, if I don’t come back, remember I loved you with every breath I had. And if God chooses it, I swear I’ll love you even more after death.

Your Harry.

No sooner had he finished writing than a hard determination mixed with storm-like fury rose up to replace the sadness. His eyes flashed a brilliant green as he snatched up the note, stood, and strode purposefully to behind the couch where he had left his trainers. He yanked them on, snatched up Godric Gryffindor’s sword, and as an afterthought, shrugged into his black school robes hanging over the back of the couch; the lion's crest of his Gryffindor ancestors resting red and gold above his heart. Before tonight, he might have looked on the sentiment as foolish. And even had it not been, there was still the small matter of being half-Slytherin as well to contend with. Now he felt as if it gave him some hidden strength; some reminder of who he was; who he chose to be. Even with all of his extra abilities he would take whatever help he could get, be it sentiment or not.

With each step he took toward leaving his heart gave another painful lurch. He might never see Hermione again. He might never have her finish his sentences, hear her laugh, hear her correct him, feel her touch him… He might never taste her again or feel her body move under his, smooth her soft skin with his hands, hold her close enough to feel complete…

But none of it mattered if he could not keep her safe, and it was this alone that drove him.

He reached the hearth and held the parchment to the mantle, muttering a sticking charm. As he stood for a moment clutching his sword and gazing at the paper, firelight making it glow yellow from behind, he couldn’t help thinking to himself how it would be for Hermione to wake hours later and find his note. He couldn’t stand the thought of her heart breaking; of her crying out for no one to hear…

"Harry?"

A breathless feminine voice sounded quietly behind him, shattering the silence, and for one miserable moment, he stopped breathing.

Damn it to hell.

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly and slowly turned round to see a wide-eyed Hermione, dressed in one of his long-sleeved tee shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts, both much too big for her, standing silhouetted in the doorway to his room and staring at him.

Merlin, she’s so beautiful…

Her wide eyes scanned him all over, from his dressed state, to the sword in his hand, and to the expression of regret on his face. And suddenly, she looked petrified. She swallowed harshly as her eyes welled with tears.

"I..I woke up and you weren’t there…"

Harry tried to speak, but what came out sounded more like a weary sigh.

"Gods, Hermione…"

"Are you going somewhere?"

She was shaking, her voice trembling, and Harry found he could no longer meet her gaze. He bowed his head to look at the floor.

As she caught sight of something white and rectangular hanging near him, Hermione gasped. She quickly rushed forward bent on snatching the fluttering parchment from the mantle behind him, but Harry blocked her with his body.

"What is that!?"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione..."

"I asked what is that!?" She bellowed at him hysterically, frantically grabbing round him to get at the note.

They grappled for a few moments, Harry grabbing onto her wrists and trying to reason with her until she twisted from his grasp and darted under his arm to rip the paper away.

Her eyes flew over the words; her face twisting with more and more horror the further down she went. She held a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face and over her slim fingers until Harry could no longer bear it. He grabbed her shoulders and watched painfully as she let the letter drop from her hands to drift to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I hate this... I don't want to hurt you..." his voice cracked harshly with emotion. "I NEVER want you hurt..."

He moved his hands gently to her face but she twisted away from him looking betrayed.

"So you were just going to leave me!?" She shouted, her voice full of agony. "You thought you would just walk out the door to face him ALONE, and leave me a bloody note!?"

She stabbed a finger at the parchment on the floor, and Harry clawed at his face in frustration.

"I don't want to Hermione, believe me! I don't have a choice!"

"What'd you mean you 'don't have a choice!?" Hermione yelled. "Of course you have a choice! You can't go off to face him and his whole army by yourself, Harry! You honestly think you would win!?"

"He won't bring his whole army into it," Harry replied firmly, staring at her. "I know him, he's too damn full of himself to let anyone else have the glory for killing me... besides if he wants his powers back I think he thinks he's got to kill me himself..."

While he had been speaking, Hermione had situated herself between him and the portrait door, and looked desperately ready to fight him for his exit.

Harry sighed painfully and clawed a hand through his inky hair. She didn't understand what was at stake, and he could not let her read the note from Voldemort and find he was leaving on his own all for her. She wouldn’t understand. She didn’t understand how precious she was. He would do anything to keep her safe.

"We knew this was going to happen..."

"And you thought I would go along with it?" Hermione asked incredulously, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I love you Harry! I won't let you go off to fight him alone! I don't care what the hell he's threatened! Please let's just go get Dumbledore… He'll call his army and the Aurors and the Order and we'll all fight him together, the way we’re supposed to! Please, Harry!"

...'Be forewarned, Harry. Should you arrive with others, the whore will meet her fate by my servant’s hand. If even he should fail, know this: I will not stop hunting her. You can be assured I will pass the task along to another, and even to another until it is complete...'

‘…should you arrive with others…’

Harry steeled himself and shook his head. I'm doing this for her... for her... she's worth everything...

"I have to go alone."

She moved backward to lean against the portrait door, her voice trembling with repressed grief.

"No, Harry… I don't care what I have to do, I won't let you sacrifice yourself!"

And suddenly, she whipped out her wand from the back waistband of the boxers and pointed it straight at him. Her hand shook, and she stifled a sob as he stared at her, but she held her sturdy façade, her heart beating so fast she felt it might burst.

Harry moved toward her, his expression contorted with anguish. He held up his hand and whispered something under his breath.

"Please Hermione, please don't do this..."

She felt goosebumps rise on her arms and she stiffened.

"Stop! Stop Harry, I WILL curse you... Whatever it takes... I won't let you go..."

"You know you won't win," said Harry, still advancing and swallowing back tears. "Not anymore..."

"Please don't make me..."

"I have to go... I swear I'll do my best to make it back to you; I swear it on my life, Hermione! ... Please, please try to understand..."

She stiffened even more, her body language making it quite evident she was ready for a fight.

"How can I understand when you won't explain it to me!? What's he threatened, Harry!? Just tell me, we can face anything togeth..."

Her voice trailed off as she studied him, a look of dawning horror replacing the outward stiff façade.

"It's me..."

Harry closed his eyes briefly. "Hermi..."

"It's ME! He's threatened to hurt me!" Hermione cried out furiously. She advanced toward him, her wand extended. "I don't give a damn, Harry! I understand why you want to do this, but I'm not worth your life!"

Harry’s mouth dropped open. "YOU’RE WORTH A HUNDRED OF MY LIVES!"

"NO," said Hermione, shaking her head violently. She lowered her wand as she stared at him. "Harry, you're the one that's to end it all... like it or not, you are the saviour of the wizarding world. 'And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives,' remember!? You can't risk your life for mine and leave the rest of the world to fend for its own!"

"The hell I can't!"

Harry gritted his teeth, furious not with her, but with whatever deity it was that had decided long ago his life was not to be his own.

"It's MY LIFE, Hermione! For ONCE, I'M going to choose what I do, who I love, and who I'm willing to die for, you hear me!?"

She began to tear up again, her back pressed firmly against the portrait door. She raised her wand again and pointed it at him, shaking uncontrollably.

"N..no…"

"I won’t let him hurt you," Harry repeated firmly, his hand outstretched toward her. "I won’t let him take you from me again, you understand? I won’t."

"Please Harry," Hermione sobbed, "Please…"

He shook his head determinedly. He was almost to her, and Hermione made a choice.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

But to her unending horror, the spell merely bounced off him and landed harmlessly on the floor beside her.

Quickly she raised her arm to throw another but Harry grabbed her wrist and plucked the wand from her hand.

"NO!"

"I’m sorry Hermione, I’m sorry… I love you…"

He grabbed her in a hug even as she struggled against him.

"I won’t let you, Harry! Please don’t go! Don’t do this! Please, please don’t go…"

Harry broke down in sobs, his face buried in her hair. "I have to… I’d do anything for you… You’re all that’s important to me, you understand? You’re everything…"

"You don’t think you’re everything to me too!?" She yelled as she struggled in his grasp. "Let me go with you, Harry! Take Ron, take your father if you have to… please don’t go alone!"

"He’ll kill you, Hermione… I can’t, I…gods I’m sorry, please forgive me…"

She hadn’t noticed Harry move them against the far wall until she felt the cool wood press against her back. He took her wet face in his hands and desperately planted kisses all over it.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry…"

His tears were mixing with her own as she cried, her heart, her very soul throbbing with despair.

"Please don’t leave, Harry," she whispered against his lips one more time. "Please don’t…"

Harry merely shook his head and pressed against her one last time, his lips crushed to hers, his arms encircling her and crushing her to him with a fierce desperation. Finally he moved a few inches back and stared into her eyes with his own haunted ones, both of his hands coming up to frame her face once again as he whispered.

"Elevopendium."

Her whole body began to rise, sliding up the wall to finally come to rest levitated some two feet in the air.

"Harry! Harry, no…"

He clawed a hand through his hair and gazed up at her despondently.

"I’m sorry Hermione. I’m so sorry, I can’t let anyone follow me…I can’t let anything happen to you… It won’t last long, I promise…"

"Don’t go!"

She watched him walk backward toward the portrait door, and struggled against the wall, feeling as if her heart were walking out the door with him.

"DON’T GO! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!"

He swiped miserably at his eyes as he opened the door and peered one last time back at her.

"I love you. Never forget that, Hermione. Don’t ever forget…"

Her pleading was cut off as he pulled the portrait shut behind him, though he could still hear her screaming and sobbing from inside.

The hallway was dark and damp, lit only by the dim torches Filch kept burning at night to watch for trespassing students.

Harry muffled a scream of rage and complete suffering and pounded his fist into the wall, not caring that the knuckles came away bloody and scraped. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool stone, Hermione’s muffled cries from within their common room carving into his soul like a sharp blade.

It’s for her… it’s all for her…

Finally he lifted his head from the wall, stood upright with determination, and fingered the handle of his sword.

It was for her. And the son of a bitch was going down, tonight.

Harry peered down as far as he could see toward both ends of the hall and, seeing no one, took off at a run.

(A/N: Well, here we are at the very edge of the final war. I’m not as happy with this chapter as I’ve been with others as I’m extremely tired and probably not as ‘on’ artistically as I could be, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. I promise even though you may have to wait a bit for the next chappie, the final war, it will be quite the nail-biter. The poem toward the middle of this chapter called "Tonight, the Cold" by E.D. was found by me as I surfed the net one night for poetry. I don’t know who this person is, or what E.D. stands for, but I wanted to give him/her recognition for it as it’s not mine, and I think it’s hauntingly beautiful.

Please stand faithful with me readers! I promise you won’t be disappointed in the end! :0)

35. Chapter 35: All Day Permanent Red, Part: 1

Chapter 35: All Day Permanent Red (Part One)

“My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close” (Emily Dickinson 1830-1886)

‘My life closed twice before its close:

It yet remains to see

If immortality unveil

A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,

As these that twice befell.

Parting is all we know of Heaven,

And all we need of Hell…’

“We really should be studying,” whispered Lavender Brown as Ron held her hand and helped her step out of Gryffindor tower’s portrait door after him.

In the darkness, the fat lady awoke with a startled grunt and gave a distinct ‘humph’ of disapproval as the two teens stepped past her, but a few moments after laid her cheek back onto her hand, twisted in her chair and went back to sleep.

Now standing in the very dimly lit hallway, Ron turned to his girlfriend and rolled his eyes. “Lav, I swear Hermione’s had a bad influence on you. It’s almost four in the morning! One more all-nighter and I swear my eyes are going to dry up like raisins and fall out of their sockets. I..need..a..break. WE need a break.”

“The exams are in two days Ron, this is hardly the time for a break!” Lavender scolded him, exasperated. She flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulders, folded her arms in front of her and regarded him pointedly. “And you aren’t just a bit nervous you’ve been studying that fake guide Andrew Kirke sold you instead of your books?”

“I’ve studied my books all year, Lav. I’m well set, I think,” Ron said dryly. But his face soon twisted into a dark scowl. “I’m still going to murder Kirke, though; the little arsewipe. Have to get him alone first. All the people still awake in the common room studying and he’s nowhere in sight…”

“He’s been avoiding you,” Lavender said, pursing her lips. “And I don’t wonder what with your temper! But we’re getting off subject. We really do need to study. And if you’re too tired to study, you’re too tired to snog, aren’t you?”

“Never too tired to snog,” Ron replied, grabbing her round the waist, wiggling his eyebrows at her and smiling lecherously. “Besides, I’ll keep my eyes closed the entire time. They could do with a good resting.”

Despite herself, Lavender sighed resignedly and smiled back up at him. Ron Weasley really could be a charming, persuasive git when he wanted to be.

“Well… alright, then. Where should we go?”

Ron put his hands on his hips and squinted toward the ceiling, thinking.

“We could go to the Room of Requirement… I know what I require…” he added cheekily.

“No, it’s too far away,” said Lavender. “We need to stay close in case McGonnagol pays a visit and checks to see we’re all in. Professor Dumbledore said they were going to keep watch. And what with the injured from Hogsmeade being transported here we aren’t sure who’ll be passing down the hall at any moment…”

“Right, right… stay close,” Ron thought aloud, tapping his chin almost comically. “Wait… I know where. The supply cupboard down the hall near that portrait of Fredweina the Fierce…”

“But that’s near Harry and Hermione’s rooms!”

Ron smiled confidently at her. “Your point?”

Lavender looked incredulously at him. “In case it’s escaped you Ron, they are head boy and girl. And I don’t care if they are your best mates they’re going to say something if they catch us out at this time!”

“They wouldn’t.” Ron smirked. “They’ll both be too busy studying or snogging to even step foot outside their rooms. And Harry… well let’s just say he’s got the same regard for school rules as I have. That’s all supposing they’re even still awake…”

“Well most of Gryffindor are still awake, aren’t they?” Lavender retorted nervously.

Ron stepped closer to her and gave her his best shit-eating grin. “C’mon Lav, you worry too much. We’ll just take a while… Besides, think on it as helping me relax for further studying.”

He grabbed her hand and began to swagger backward down the hall.

Lavender grinned as she was pulled along.

“You really are shameless.”

“I know,” Ron smirked. “It’s why you love me.”

“On a good day, maybe.” She replied. “Most times I just tolerate you.”

Five minutes later they had made their ways stealthily down the long hallway and were quietly moving past the portrait of Fredweina the Fierce; an angry looking witch with a large wart covered nose, scraggly brown hair, and crooked teeth, dressed in black robes and clutching a dagger. She was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair, her eyes closed, her head leaned back against the stone wall behind her, and her mouth partially open, drawing great shuddering snores.

“Well I don’t wonder she was fierce,” Lavender whispered, scrunching up her nose at the portrait as she and Ron passed by. “She could’ve done with a few beautification charms…”

Ron snorted. “Not sure they would’ve helped that one.”

The ugly witch in the painting suddenly opened one eye and scowled at the two teens.

“If I weren’t a portrait I’d give you a good stab, I would.”

Lavender stepped back from her, at once surprised and appalled. “Well that’s taking it a bit far, don’t you think?”

Fredweina sat up straight in her chair. “You young sprogs and your disrespect for your elders…”

But she never got to finish her tirade.

“Wait!” Ron suddenly interrupted, frowning, holding up a hand at the two and cocking his head to the side.

Lavender turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh! Just hold for a minute,” Ron answered quickly, his eyes narrowed and his face strained with concentration.

After a few moments he jumped, startled and turned back round to eye Lavender.

“Did you hear that?”

Lavender nodded, her brow wrinkled with concern. “Sounded like someone crying…”

“Oh, she’s been doing that for more than an hour now,” the ugly witch in the portrait interjected with a lazy wave of her dagger. “I’ve been doing my best to ignore it… starting to wear on my nerves…”

“I think it’s Hermione!” Ron exclaimed.

“If you mean the little bushy-haired Granger girl, then you’re right on,” said Fredweina, settling back into her chair once more and closing her eyes. “Hasn’t stopped wailing since that tall, black-haired Potter lad ran out on her all beside himself more than an hour ago. Getting downright annoying if you ask me…”

Ron didn’t bother to reply to the witch but quickly grabbed Lavender’s hand and rushed further on down the hallway.

Moments later they came skidding to a halt in front of the portrait of Sir Cadogen.

Curiously and for the very first time, Cadogen merely sat still on his white horse, his metal visor hiding any facial expression he might have had.

Ron raised a fist and immediately began pounding on the portrait.

“Hermione!?”

The sobbing inside instantly stopped.

“Ron, not so loud!” Lavender admonished through her teeth. “Do you want us caught!?”

“I don’t care, something’s wrong,” Ron panted anxiously. He pounded on the portrait again.

“ ‘Mione, can you hear me!?”

A muffled voice from inside suddenly seemed to draw in a much needed gasp of air.

“RON! Ron is that you!? Dragon’s Lair! There I’ve said the password! Please, please get in here NOW!”

Ron wasted no time and, groping for Lavender’s hand behind him, grabbed the side of the portrait and yanked it open.

However, as he rushed in dragging his girlfriend behind him, the sight that greeted his eyes was far from what he had expected.

The common room, as was normal for so early in the morning, was dark with shadows and lit only by the orange-yellow glow from the hearth. However, a completely distraught Hermione was pushed up against the far back wall of the room and had somehow been suspended around two to three feet in the air up against it by what he could only imagine was some dual levitation/suspension charm.

Her hair was in wild disarray, the long brown curls tangled and framing reddened, tear-stained cheeks; her large brown eyes wet, and framed with a thick fringe of tear-drenched, clumped lashes. The long-sleeved tee-shirt she wore was wrinkled in such a way that it looked as if she had twisted fistfuls of it in her hands over and over again.

Ron turned a dumbstruck gaze on Lavender before moving round the couch to the back of the room to stare up at her.

“Get me down,” Hermione breathed frantically. “Ron, get me down quick!”

“Hermione, what’s happened?” He gasped, clearly at a loss as to what could have happened. “Where’s Harry? Did… did he do this? Are you hurt? What’s happened…”

“JUST GET ME DOWN FIRST!” Hermione bellowed frantically.

“How? I dunno what he even used to…”

“Use your wand Ron, are you a wizard or NOT!?”

“Oh! Bloody hell…” Ron shook his head as if a bewildered fog had suddenly lifted from about him and grabbed behind him to whip his wand out from the back of his jeans.

“Finite!”

Immediately, Hermione dropped the few feet from the wall, landing, for the most part on her feet.

Ron rushed over to her and helped her stand upright.

“Are you alright? Why were you stuck up there? Where’s Harry!?”

At the mention of Harry’s name, Ron watched Hermione’s eyes begin to fill once again. She suddenly burst into wracking sobs, her body almost buckling to the floor before he could grab her. Ron hugged her tightly to his chest, immediately afraid of what it meant, and turned confused, begging eyes back toward Lavender.

She approached the two slowly and placed a gentle hand on Hermione’s head, swiping a few curls out of her face.

“Hermione? What’s happened, sweetie?”

As if she had suddenly come to her senses, Hermione turned wide eyes on Lavender’s face and abruptly twisted out of Ron’s embrace, quickly stabbing him with an intense stare.

“Ron, he’s gone after him…” She said tersely, swiping at her eyes.

“Who… Harry? What’d you…”

“Voldemort’s sent for him! He didn’t want me to follow! He’s gone off to fight him alone!”

Ron’s jaw dropped open in shock.

“HE’S DONE WHAT!?” He roared furiously, his hands clenching into fists.

Lavender flinched from the tone in his voice, her wide eyes following the conversation between her boyfriend and Hermione like a fast-paced tennis match. They had gone into what she usually thought of to herself as ‘Musketeer mode’. She was sure they scarcely even recognised she still stood there with them.

Ron gripped his wand so tight in his hand that his knuckles whitened and spoke in a deadly serious voice.

“When did he leave…”

“Over an hour and a half ago…”

“Where’s he gone…”

“I dunno, he wouldn’t tell me,” Hermione answered rapidly with a sharp edge of panic to her voice. She dug her fingers into her hair and began moving desperately about the room as if looking for some clue.

Ron chewed on his knuckles for a moment, half of his thoughts on watching Hermione pace frenetically, the other half racing on Harry, before he threw his arms up in the air and completely exploded with anger.

“GODS, WHAT IS HE THINKING!? He KNOWS it’s supposed to be all three of us there! He knows we’re more powerful TOGETHER!”

“The note…” Hermione suddenly muttered. She looked up wide-eyed at Ron from the front side of the couch and leaned forward to clutch his arm. “The note Voldemort sent him… it told Harry where to meet him, I’m sure!”

Ron gasped.

“Where is it!?”

“I dunno, I’m sure he dropped it round here somewhere! Help me look, Ron!”

The two began running about the room, recklessly shoving stuff about and tossing cushions, books and parchments until Lavender, sighing, whipped out her wand.

“Accio note!”

Two small pieces of parchment, one folded into a tight roll and the other a bit crumpled and smeared, suddenly flew from different areas of the common room toward her. She caught them easily and held them aloft.

Hermione and Ron gaped at her and if it weren’t for the situation they were in, they might have appeared quite comical.

“I know you both care for him a great deal, but panicking will solve nothing,” said Lavender sagely.

Hermione, who might normally have felt quite abashed at her disordered state was in too much of a frenzy to care. At once she tore round the couch and snatched the unrecognised scroll from Lavender’s hand, her fingers fumbling like mad to unroll it as fast as she was able.

Once the note was unrolled, her eyes flew so quickly over the glowing red words they almost seemed a blur. A moment later she crumpled it in her fist, her expression far-away and haunted as if she were remembering something horrid.

“The Kavan Forest…” she breathed, shakily. “Voldemort wants Harry killed in the exact same place he was last defeated by him.”

“Where that bastarding, fake Quidditch recruiter took you last year?” blurted Ron, jigging nervously on the balls of his feet.

Hermione shuddered. “I’m sure of it.”

“Right, well that’s it then,” Ron replied business-like, snatching his wand up from where he had tossed it on the couch. “Let’s go!”

He made as if to stride purposefully toward the portrait door, but Hermione’s now calmer, more rational voice stopped him.

“Ron, wait…”

Ron whipped around, irritated. “Wait for what!? Harry’s already got a good two hours start on us, Hermione!…”

“Lavender’s right,” Hermione answered shakily, glancing at Lavender with clear appreciation. “We won’t do Harry any good acting rash and not thinking clearly… We need to get Professor Dumbledore.”

Ron huffed impatiently. “Well if we’re going to do it let’s do it fast…”

Hermione did not bother to let him finish.

“I’m going to get dressed. Lavender, could you go let Professor Dumbledore in on? Tell him what’s happened with Harry and that we now know where Voldemort and his army are… I’m sure he’ll immediately send for his own. Tell him we’re going to gather all the students into the Great Hall as quickly as possible. Ron, that’ll be your job. You’ll need to rouse all of Gryffindor and have them spread out to every house… tell the students Professor Dumbledore wants them in the Great Hall right away.”

In any normal situation Ron would have immediately baulked at Hermione’s take charge tone and instructions, but this night he was all attention. Harry was in trouble. The location of Voldemort and his troops was finally known. Dumbledore and his army were now needed to fight them.

And all hell was at last on the verge of breaking loose.

“What’re you going to do?” he asked solemnly.

“I’m going to get dressed and gather my wand and whatever else I might need,” Hermione said staunchly. “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall same as everyone else.”

Ron nodded and bent down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, moved to Lavender and kissed her thoroughly, and then rushed to the portrait door where he wrenched it open and was gone in an instant.

Lavender turned to glance at Hermione before she left as well.

“Try not to worry, Hermione. Harry’s quite powerful, we’ve all seen it… If there’s any wizard who can hold his own against You-Know-Who, well… but you already know that, don’t you?”

Hermione gave her a small, brave smile as she watched Lavender leave; a façade that shattered entirely as the portrait clicked shut behind her.

She took a few precious moments to calm her trembling body, swallow back the tears that threatened to burst forth once again, and take a long deep breath.

Pull yourself together, Hermione… Harry needs us… he needs YOU... Nothing else matters… NOTHING.

She set her lips in a thin line, hurried across the common room to her own long-neglected bedroom, and hurriedly began changing; images of Harry fighting Voldemort with every bit of strength he had branding her thoughts like a relentless hot iron.

**************************************************************

(a bit earlier)

The cold air bit at his face and blew the hair back from his forehead as Harry, his sword strapped firmly to his side on its leather belt, bent low over his signature Flametorch broom and streaked through the dark, thick canopy of trees that made up the Forbidden Forest. The racing broom he rode was the only one of it’s kind at Hogwarts, and the only one so lightning fast. In his mind, Harry sent a quick prayer of thanks to his father who had presented it as a gift to him some months ago. The broom flew much faster than his old Firebolt if that were at all possible. He was covering ground he had done just last year, travelling the same path, and zooming beyond it twice as fast.

The sooner he got to Voldemort, the sooner it would be over, whichever way the battle turned.

As he flew, Harry continued to plot his course of action in his mind. It would have been completely idiotic for him to suddenly burst into his enemy’s encampment without at least a small bit of forethought. Luckily, Voldemort had given him the better part of a year since Harry’s last visit to the Kavan forest to think on what he might have done better last time he had fought him there.

Harry had given the fight his all last time, though this time he was coming to meet his enemy much better equipped. The only thing he thought to himself he might have done better was his approach. He had been so distraught over losing Hermione that when he had finally got to Voldemort’s ‘cabin’ he had simply forced Stuart Kavan in front of him, blasted the door off its hinges and rushed inside.

This battle might do with a bit more cunning, and Harry was, at least, somewhat prepared.

With these thoughts in mind, he flew on.

Tree limbs blurred past him like rows of huge dark, waving arms. Blowing, green leaves rustled together like the clapping of thousands of tiny hands. Bushes and thick clumps of foliage clawed at his black robes as they whipped behind him in the breeze. Rabbits, squirrels and all other manner of small forest creature scattered out of his jetstream. Above and all around him, the early morning sky was just beginning to colour with the dark purples, pinks and oranges of sunrise.

And strangely, the closer to Voldemort’s encampment Harry got, the colder the air became.

Somehow he had the faint inkling it might have something to do with the effect the Dementors brought with them whenever they were near. He, Hermione and Ron had been sure ever since so many of them disappeared the day Azkaban was broken into once again, that the foul creatures had defected over to Voldemort’s side.

Now as Harry’s breath puffed misty white before him only milliseconds before the wind tore it away, he was sure of it. Voldemort must have found some way of dampening most of the Dementors side-effects in order for them to stay in his encampment. No doubt the bastard wanted them to help rid himself of the unwanted burden of prisoners once everything was done.

Miles heaped upon miles. Strange unreal thoughts that everything really was finally converging into a very near final moment continued to bombard his mind as he continued on, with realisations that he was soon going to be forced to kill or be killed clawing at his conscience. And his targets would not be limited to Voldemort. He had no doubt there would be many more he would be forced to kill along the way to get to the dark bastard, and yet, there was nothing he could do to change that fact. The creatures, wizards and witches who had joined Voldemort had chosen their side just as clearly as Harry and the rest of Dumbledore’s army had. There was no other choice now but to fight, and let the thought that he was having to kill others crawl back into his subconscious to be analysed at a different date.

At length, Harry finally passed over an invisible line where huge thriving trees and thick green foliage abruptly led to a brown wasteland of dead trees, dried crackled leaves, shrivelled plants, and the obvious absence of any wildlife. He knew he had finally entered Kavan.

Oddly, though the skyline above continued to wash over with dawn and the light coming from one forest to another had not changed, the moment he entered the dead forest it felt dark as midnight. It was also evident the air had grown even colder than before.

Harry bent lower over his broom. His heart pounded in his ears like a drum. An electric thrill of dread spread through his chest with every rapid thump. He was close… He knew it.

He FELT it.

Finally, far ahead, he saw what he had been looking for and sharply pulled the handle of his Flametorch to a halt. An encampment of what looked like hundreds of makeshift lean-toos and dark green tents littered an extensive area of the dead forest that looked as if it had been hollowed out for that very reason. Black robed Death Eaters and all manner of wizarding creatures, each outfitted with their very own sort of weaponry, were milling about the grounds; some eating a quick meal, some already engaged in very early morning battle practice, and still others overseeing their efforts.

The faraway ‘thwip’ and thud of arrows into trees made Harry’s eyes swivel over to the left side of the camp where the sleek, powerful, black-haired Bane stood with about seven other centaurs practising archery. Four large and unequally proportioned trolls stood close by dressed in what looked like huge burlap sacks and pounding on dead trees with their massive clubs; the resounding ‘thwacks’ against old splintering trunks echoing throughout the camp. A gaggle of short, stubby goblins expertly wielded knarled staffs and spears as they practised combat with one another. And worst of all, what looked like a sea of robed death eaters, minus their hoods at this point, dotted the camp like some rapidly spreading black cancer. They were practising the wand, throwing curses, casting charms, uttering spells, and, by Godric, wielding swords. The faraway clanging of metal upon metal suddenly made Harry sick to his stomach. He’d had no idea Voldemort was training his troops at the sword.

SHIT.

He could only hope Dumbledore had had the foresight with his own army to do the same. If he had, he had never mentioned it to Harry.

Upon scanning over what he could see of the remaining encampment, Harry could just make out the long-haired silvery head of Lucius Malfoy, seen conversing with none other that whom Harry recognised as Igor Karkaroff from Durmsdrang.

The snivelling bastard. Something always had seemed slightly off with him…

At the edge and back of everything, and set apart from all the rest as a sign someone of much greater importance than the common rabble lived there, a small grey-patched, weathering cabin stood erect, curling smoke from its chimney.

Harry growled as he straddled his broom, his large, clear green eyes glaring and flickering bright for just a moment with that unholy Slytherin neon hue.

The cabin was the very same one that had held a tortured Hermione captive for more than two days last year, and it had been rebuilt and stood proudly as if it had never been torn down. The sight offended every bit of what seemed fair and right within him.

It ate at him.

On either side of the gigantic hollow, and with one situated conspicuously near the cabin, two filthy, massive giants, tall as some of the trees looming near them and dressed in whole hides of patched together animal skin, stood guard over the whole throng. Their small, muddy eyes continually searched the surrounding woods for intruders.

Harry smirked despite himself. Giants were known for their poor eyesight.

Strike one, Voldemort.

Starting his broom forward at a fairly slow pace, Harry stealthily began making a wide pass about the camp, passing long dead trees and plants, and being careful not to let his trainers accidentally drag along a ground covered in noisy, crunchy leaves. He kept his eyes hard fixed on Voldemort’s cabin.

The son of a bitch had to be in there. He was sure Voldemort would know Harry would search there for him first, and equally as sure the dark lord would have some surprise waiting there for him.

Shockingly enough, upon quietly making it behind a group of large trees only yards from the back of Voldemort’s cabin, Harry saw no one guarding it.

Thankfully, the noise of battle practise from the huge encampment around the building continued to rise with the progression of the morning, so Harry felt he had a good chance of not being heard as he sneaked inside.

He dismounted his Flametorch, muttered ‘down’ as quietly as possible, and watched as it gently descended to lay on a bed of fallen leaves.

Pulling Godric Gryffindor’s sword out from its sheath and holding it upright and slightly to one side, he stealthily began approaching the back of the cabin.

There was no door cut into the old grey wood, but Harry had not expected there to be. A back entrance to the cabin would have been too easy..

Holding his sword with one hand, he lifted a finger to the wood, touched it at about head level and whispered under his breath.

“Carbonis Infindo.”

The tip of his finger suddenly blazed a hot fiery blue, and Harry immediately began moving it down the wood much like a torch, cutting a square large enough to fit himself through.

Once done he pushed the wood through, careful to catch the piece of wall before it clattered to the cabin floor and, leaning it against the inside wall, chanced a peek inside.

Empty.

Nothing lay in wait to attack. There was no visage of Voldemort standing tall with his wand aloft… nothing but a dim hallway.

Appearances could often be deceiving, though.

Harry clutched his sword before him as he crouched a bit and stepped through the square opening, coming to stand upright in what looked by all accounts like a normal, though haphazardly rebuilt, old cabin.

The inside seemed much like the outside though Harry knew he was only standing in the hallway. Rough weather-greyed, knotty wood led forward to where the hall turned sharply to the left.

He had to keep going.

Again, Harry squeezed the hilt of his sword as he crept onward, knowing that at any second someone or something might quickly round that corner and begin his first battle. There was nothing for it, though. Images of Hermione sitting with him in the Great Hall, lecturing he and Ron over a million things, cheering them on at Quidditch, and even lying beneath him, her body pressed to his and her eyes filled with love for him, flickered in and out of his thoughts like an old Muggle movie projection.

Far from being distracting though, it urged him ever forward. He was doing this for her, and he would do it a thousand times over if it meant she was kept safe.

Harry stopped short at the corner, his senses on high alert; his fingers white with the tight clutch he had on the sword’s handle… He and his father had trained at automatically breathing shallowly and without sound for just such a situation as he now found himself in. It was strange how, in the chill evil had brought to the place, even inside the cabin, inhaling and exhaling softly as he was, his breath still spun out a misty white.

He kept his body still as a stone wall. There was no sound to indicate the place was even occupied at the moment, though Harry had seen no sign of the dark lord outside as he had circled the camp. Whether or not he physically saw him though was of no consequence. The sick twisting of his stomach to whatever depravity hung in the atmosphere of this place was sign enough he was there.

Having no choice other than to continue on, Harry craned his neck forward centimetre by centimetre until he could just peer past the sharp wooden corner.

The stubby end of the hallway led into the side of a wide open space about the same size as the Dursley’s livingroom, furnished only with a familiar looking bookshelf near the front door, a few barrels and crates carrying Merlin knew what, a lit fireplace, and one ratty, old, blood-red armchair. Sitting there, and staring into a ruby-red fire with wand clutched tightly in hand, sat the menacing, unearthly person of none other than Voldemort himself.

Harry instantly froze. His body felt glacial and numb, as if his veins now pumped ice-water instead of blood. Every sense jumped to attention with blaring alarm. It was the first time he had seen the old man since last year, and the first time since fourth year he had seen him in possession of a body.

As the hall was situated slightly to the side and behind the whole of the livingroom, and since, as of yet he had not been spotted, Harry took a few much needed moments to press closely to the wall and survey his enemy.

Time had not been kind to Tom. Deeply etched frown lines, the mark of years of consuming hatred, marred the skeletal white skin around his mouth and between his eyebrows. He breathed in and out slowly, whistling air between what Harry was shocked and almost sickened to see were tightly gritted, blackened teeth, providing an evil contrast against the paleness. He was cloaked in black as well, his expression under the half-hood set with grimness and determination. Abnormally tall, he sat regally in the ratty chair that served as his throne, and Harry could see he must be at least a head and a half taller than his own six feet. He was still as thin as ever, though it had never been anything physical that made up his power. What he lacked in muscle mass he made up for in the absolute embodiment of pure evil, so much so that it left it’s mark in the glowing red of his eyes.

Harry grimaced. If eyes really were windows to the soul, there was no mistaking what lay in those hollow, glowing depths.

Voldemort stirred very slightly and Harry tensed, staring guardedly at him, his sword held vertical and to the side of his body and his heart skipping beats.

Though the dark lord’s eyes were still centred on the fire, Harry distinctly saw a tiny smirk twist his lips.

And suddenly, a suffocating dread blanketed Harry’s entire body like an avalanche.

Voldemort’s high-pitched, raspy demanding voice broke the quiet so eerily it almost startled him.

“Surely you do not think simply because you have now become skilled at Occlumency, that I cannot still sense your presence..."

Harry went rigid and by reflex, fell back a step.

Voldemort twisted slowly in his seat, fixing his uncanny glowing gaze on his enemy and breathed out his next words like a hiss.

“Foolish boy.”

A door from the other side of the livingroom burst open and four Death Eaters dressed in black robes and hoods suddenly hurled themselves out, two armed with swords and two with wands. They stood near their master’s ‘throne’ and awaited his orders.

Harry moved forward into the livingroom, his gaze set intently on the Death Eaters.

“Trying to level the playing field?” He asked, nodding his head toward Voldemort’s choice of weaponry.

His voice was surprisingly steady, even to him.

Voldemort settled comfortably into his chair once more and, looking at his servants flicked a finger toward Harry; obviously the sign they were to move forward with the attack.

“I am aware you now come armed with certain other defences,” he said casually. “And as the Muggle filth are fond of saying, I prefer to cover my bets.”

The Death Eaters moved forward all at once with simultaneous roars and rushed at Harry as one.

He tensed and raised one arm, palm outward.

“EXARMANATO!”

The two in front and carrying wands were instantly rendered weaponless and hurled violently upward to slam into the ceiling where they remained suspended.

Voldemort settled casually back in his chair to watch.

Instantly two swords swiped at Harry from both sides. He ducked the first cut, the sword whistling over his head and immediately straightened, punching the man hard in the face and sending him reeling backward. Immediately after, he whipped about and met the other blade mid-swing against his own with a loud resounding crash of metal on metal, the impact vibrating down his arms and torso.

Harry shoved forward and swung one foot out low and hard at the man in front of him, sweeping his legs out from under him. The Death Eater crashed to the floor on his back with a loud thump, and Harry wasted no time slamming his chest down with his foot and stabbing him through.

The wizard convulsed upward like a crab. For a brief, horrific moment that seemed to last an eternity he writhed and gurgled, blood frothing from his lips as, before death, he took a last bewildered glance up at the seventeen year old boy-turned-killer standing above him.

Harry gritted his teeth against the scene. A hoarse, nauseated choke escaped his throat as he wrenched his blood-smeared sword from the dead body, but there was no time to waste thought and emotion on what he had just done.

The Death Eater immediately behind him had regained his senses and, regardless of the blood pouring from his nose and soaking his mask, quickly slashed at Harry again.

Harry leapt back, but the tip of the sword cut a long gash along his chest. He yelled out in pain, one hand clutching the sword while the other clutched through his robes at the ripped shirt along his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

The Death Eater barked out triumphantly despite his own wound and, with a wild roar, lifted his sword and came at Harry again. However, recognising the need for both hands, Harry let go of his chest and held his sword aloft again, parrying the powerful blows that came at him again, threatening to knock him off his feet.

Then, with an almost feral growl, he began to strike back.

Each lightning-fast slash and defensive parry made blazing shock waves of pain shoot from the wound outward, but Harry continued forward. He met each blurred stab and swing from the Death Eater’s sword with a vicious counter-attack, and slowly began gaining ground until his last opponent was forced back into a corner of the cabin.

If he could have seen the wizard’s face, Harry would have immediately noted the drops of sweat rolling down the man’s forehead and the panic stricken glances he began to send his impassive master’s way. As it was, Harry himself was a bit too preoccupied to notice.

The Death Eater, his next actions brought about by the panic that took hold on realising no one was coming to his aid, suddenly renewed his attack with untamed vigour. He screamed aloud, baring his teeth and recklessly stomping forward, slicing wildly with his blade and chopping at Harry with such forceful high and low diagonal blows that it was all he could do to fend them off.

And then Harry realised his attackers’ hysteria could be used to his own advantage.

His heart racing wildly in anticipation of every move, Harry allowed the wild swings to continue until his enemy felt confident enough to try stabbing at him once more.

Soon as the wizard, with arm and blade outstretched, lunged forward, Harry side-stepped the wild stab, clutched at the man’s arm with a free hand, and used the Death Eater’s own forward momentum to yank him forward and run him through.

The impaled man stood there in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief, and Harry took the opportunity to rip off his mask.

The broad, flat face of Mulciber stared up at him with blood-shot eyes just before he crumbled to the floor.

The two Death Eaters still stuck to the ceiling wheezed out in disbelief. The Potter boy had just bested them four to one. Voldemort though, completely unruffled, stood and continued to stare at Harry, making no move toward him.

Panting and drenched with sweat, Harry bent down to yank his sword from another dead body, his own pulsing so hard with adrenaline that two good wrenches pulled it free.

He stood upright, swiped at his brow, and turned to face Voldemort with bloodied sword in hand, his face not a picture of over-confidence, but merely of determination.

Voldemort smirked. “Impressive, Potter. And now I’m aware of your strengths and your weaknesses. I should thank you for the show.”

He waved a hand carelessly in the general direction of the two Death Eaters still stuck to the ceiling, and they crashed to the floor in unceremonious heaps. Then he turned to regard them for the first time since they had entered the room.

“You know what to do.”

The two picked themselves up painfully from the floor, and with simultaneous nods, headed back to the same room they had come out from.

Harry still said nothing as Voldemort turned back his way, a mocking sneer twisting his face.

“Once again, the white knight charges in to save his love,” he sneered scornfully. “You really are quite predictable, Harry. It’s one of the things I knew would lead to your downfall.”

“I’ve not fallen yet,” Harry replied quietly, his body completely rigid with anticipation and a dangerous flare of neon green glinting in his narrowed eyes.

Upon seeing the glowing colour that could only come from a pure-blooded Slytherin heir, Voldemort sneered, his expression seething with hatred.

Harry gave a nasty smile, knowing what his enemy had just witnessed.

“Don’t like to be reminded you’re half Muggle, do you Tom? Salazar would be so disappointed…”

Voldemort gritted his teeth in fury and hissed. “Filthy little blood traitor…”

“Not a blood traitor,” Harry corrected him with sadistic amusement. “I’ve just chosen to be true to my Gryffindor roots. There’s no way I’ll ever acknowledge Slytherin or any sick, twisted belief associated with it.”

“Insolent, foolish boy,” Voldemort growled furiously. “You who are so unworthy to carry even a drop of Slytherin blood dare to slander it!? You have no idea the grand design Salazar Slytherin had, how his ideas and standards for a better world were shunned by the other three founders of that building full of mixed filth you call a school. But he was always ahead of his time. Over the years there have been those who have attempted to continue his work. I however, intend to finish it.”

Harry stiffened as he saw Voldemort bend slowly and reach for something on the hidden side of his chair, but merely stood in attack stance waiting when the dark lord spoke.

“Look familiar?” He asked with a self-satisfied twist of his lips as he held up a long, gleaming, sharp sword; one that looked to be almost an exact replica of the one Harry was gripping tightly in his own grasp.

Harry frowned, baffled, but never wavered in his stance.

“My own broad sword,” said Voldemort by way of explanation, turning the handle in his hands so that the flat end bearing the name ‘Salazar Slytherin’ flashed bright orange from the firelight. “How ironic, and yet completely fitting it would be to run you through with it.”

Harry did not acknowledge the last remark, but by the surprised expression on his face the dark lord gathered he had been unaware of the other sword’s existence.

“Did you think Godric Gryffindor the only one in possession of one of these? Each of the founders of Hogwarts were given swords. This one has been passed down generations from one Slytherin to another. Now it resides with me.”

“Looks like it fell to the wrong heir then,” said Harry flatly. “I’ll have it back soon enough.”

Voldemort’s narrowed eyes flashed a bright, furious red.

“Neither you nor your filthy, bastarding father will EVER touch this sword. It belongs with one who will carry on the Slytherin legacy, who will bear the name proudly, not one befouled with Gryffindor blood, or bent on infecting themselves with Muggle inbreeding!”

Harry might otherwise have taken a crack at Voldemort for the fact he still would not accept he himself was half-Muggle, but after hearing him speak of his own father James, as if he was indeed alive, any thoughts of taunting him fell away.

Voldemort noted the rueful look on Harry’s face before the latter could wipe the expression away.

“Oh yes, I know James Potter still lives,” Voldemort said with a smug grin. “I’ve known it for years, since before Wormtail died. It seems living as a rat inside the school where you’re father came to teach and ‘watch over you’ some years ago can provide one with many ways to gain information. Did you know he left you and your mother alone to die that night, Potter? It was more important for him to gather information from my servant than it was to ensure his own wife and son’s safety, I suppose…”

“He left us with a friend to check that piece of shit hadn’t sold us out to YOU, you sick son of a bitch,” Harry shot back, his voice iron hard with rage.

But despite his fierceness, fear sunk its claws deep enough into Harry’s chest that it throbbed with every heartbeat. It was confirmed. Voldemort knew his father was alive. And James Potter, as much as himself at this moment, was in grave danger.

However, instead of continuing the verbal attacks, Voldemort merely smiled, reached inside his cloak and pulled out his wand. Harry stood rigidly at the ready.

“All will be over soon enough,” Voldemort hissed in his eerie high-pitched voice. “When you and your friends, the blood traitor and the mudblood are gone, my full powers will return to me. And there will be no Slytherin heir left save one to deal with, though he will be dead soon enough, won’t he?”

Harry faltered, falling back a step and shaking his head. Save one?… What in Godric’s name…

“What the bloody hell do you mean, ‘save one’!? You over all others should know Slytherin consistently produced only one pureblood heir. In case you’ve missed it, my mum’s side was the only exception.”

However, rather than looking chagrined at having made a mistake, Voldemort took on an expression of amused incredulity.

“It can’t be…” he hissed with a sadistic sort of pleasure. A small smile crept onto his face.

And to Harry’s astonishment, Voldemort began to chuckle.

“It seems the old wizard still has a few secrets yet to reveal,” the dark lord grinned. “I’m genuinely at a loss as to why he hasn’t told you; he being the sort who has always ‘valued the institution of family’, the sentimental old fool… How mystifying…”

Harry felt as if his whole body had just been turned inside out. It was easy to pick out the odd bitterness in Voldemort’s voice when he spoke of Dumbledore and his thoughts on ‘family’, though it was pretty obvious the dark lord would rather Harry suffer in not knowing what he was on about than tell him. At any rate, there was no way in hell Harry would ask him to explain.

However, now there was one thing Harry sure as bloody hell did know… He had more family somewhere; someone Dumbledore had not told him about… Was it a brother? A sister? Someone even worse than Voldemort? The thought somehow sickened and utterly enraged him at the same time, but there was no time now to think on it.

“I can assure you he did not simply forget to tell you,” Voldemort continued in a taunting sort of voice, studying Harry’s expressions carefully. “Perhaps the fact you grew up feeling no one cared for you simply never troubled him. How sad it is then, that I must take the mudblood from you... the only one who has finally done so…”

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

The wand was ripped from Voldemort’s grasp so swiftly it burned his palm as it was torn away. Surprised at being caught off guard, he whipped about to run after it, his black robes swirling behind him, but Harry was on him again in an instant, his voice thundering with rage.

“ADSULTOPELLO!”

Voldemort was suddenly lifted from his feet and tossed across the room where he crashed so hard into one grey wall of the cabin that the wood cracked, and he fell in an unceremonious heap to the floor.

Harry strode toward him, his face contorted with a consuming rage. He dropped to his knees in front of the dark lord, grabbed him by the neck, slammed his head against the wall and whipped the blade of his sword up to meet his throat.

“Don’t you ever, EVER threaten Hermione again…” White hot fury blazed through him so forcefully it left him panting, his eyes seering with a bright green. “I swear to God I’ll have your fucking head before this is through…”

Voldemort punched at Harry’s chest with every bit of strength he had at the moment and managed to throw him backward a couple of feet.

“Accio Scipio!”

He was back in possession of his wand in seconds and had it aimed at Harry before he could gather himself to strike again.

“CRUCIO!”

The spell hit Harry full force in the midst of scrambling to his feet and sent him writhing to the floor. He fought it, but his limbs began to seize with the agony spearing thorugh his body. His determination to bite back any screaming he might have made drew blood from his lips.

Fascinated, Voldemort watched him for a few moments before lifting the curse.

Harry coughed uncontrollably, his throat and vocal chords damaged from muffled screaming. Even as his body begged for him to stay still, he began crawling back toward his sword with small painful grunts.

“Stupid boy,” Voldemort snarled, unimpressed. “This is only the beginning for you. I’ll take everything you even think you have and reduce it to ashes… You and your line who were never meant to exist will be eradicated…and everyone you love with you…”

While he had been talking, Harry had reached out one painful arm.

“Propulso!”

He was too weak for the spell to do little more than toss the dark lord a few feet back, but it was enough of a surprise to him that his wand clattered to the floor and rolled away.

Harry gained the advantage.

He threw himself a few feet to his sword and grabbed it by the hilt, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to Voldemort, who was struggling toward his wand.

A moment later he had dropped his sword from the dark lord’s throat to the ground in favour of his bare hands.

Using both he muttered a binding spell on Voldemort’s arms and grabbed him round the neck smashing his head hard into the floor.

“You arrogant piece of shit… this ends right now…”

But Harry was completely unprepared for what happened next.

The two Death Eaters Voldemort had freed from their bondage against the ceiling, and who had retreated back into the same room they had rushed from some thirty minutes ago suddenly marched back out once again. However, this time, they did not come alone.

Colin Creevey, magically bound from his arms down and looking by all accounts as if he had been beaten and dragged about came hovering out between them, his expression one of misery mixed with terror. What skin was not covered in dirt had turned a pasty shade of white, with tear-tracks separating one dirty, scratched section of cheek from another.

Harry could almost feel himself going pale, his heart sinking low within his chest.

“Oh bloody hell…”

Colin’s voice cracked with shame as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Harry. Gods I’m SO sorry, I never meant for…”

“Shut up!” yelled one of the Death Eaters, punching the boy hard in the stomach.

Colin doubled over in his restraints, gasping for air.

Harry grabbed his sword again and placed it under Voldemort’s chin, prepared to bargain for the other boy’s life when suddenly, the very familiar, unctuous voice of Lucius Malfoy from behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand.

“Lower your sword Potter, or watch the boy die.”

SHIT.

Harry turned his eyes as far as he dared from Voldemort’s now triumphant smirk to quickly eye the dejected form of the other boy.

“What the hell are you doing here, Colin!?”

“Your sword, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy repeated in a cold, commanding voice. “I won’t ask you again.”

Harry realised he had no choice and finally, with a raging look toward Voldemort that promised the situation was far from over, he removed it from his neck and stood, his eyes still locked menacingly with his enemy’s own.

Malfoy strode forward with wand aimed and outstretched and plucked the heavy blade from Harry’s hand, tossing it aside to the floor with a loud clang. He then turned immediately to his master and ended the binding curse. As Harry watched, furiously clenching and unclenching his fists, Lucius eyed him with a victorious expression, though staying keenly aware for any movements toward wandless magic.

It was then Harry noticed the gleaming gold fingers Lucius had wrapped round his wand. He shook his head, clearly underwhelmed.

“Nice hand.”

Lucius sneered. “And yours are to stay down and to your sides.”

Voldemort stood up smoothly, surprisingly regal despite the fact Harry had been seconds from slicing his throat.

He smiled at his now subdued enemy, watching as he continued to glance frustratedly over toward the younger boy. His next words though, were ones Harry had never thought to hear.

“Is it so surprising Harry, that one of your own would seek me out?”

The comment was so ludicrous to Harry that he paid it no mind.

“Let him go, for Godric’s sake. This is between you and me; it has nothing to do with him.”

Voldemort smiled, recognising the denial in Harry’s voice.

“Do you think yourself beyond betrayal? How arrogant you’ve become, Potter. I assure you… this one has more to do with our situation than you think.”

A befuddled frown creased the ridge between Harry’s eyebrows, one that increased and darkened after turning to study the guilty look Colin had on his face.

“Colin…”

Colin shook his head at his own stupidity as he studied his bound hands. He refused to look up at Harry… The boy who had lost his whole family to Voldemort… The boy who had put his own life in danger over and over again to save others, including himself, in a round about way, some four years ago during his encounter with a basilisk… The boy he had absolutely admired and wished to emulate since the day he had heard the infamous story of his survival against the dark lord, told from his own mother’s lips…

“Col…” the word died on Harry’s lips as he continued to scrutinise him. “Gods, say something! Say anything! Call him a liar, for Merlin’s sake!”

“I can’t.”

Voldemort laughed aloud; a full-bodied, genuinely delighted sound, one he had not heard from himself for a long time.

Even Lucius Malfoy looked entertained.

Harry glanced quickly at them before turning a burning gaze back on Colin.

“What’d you mean, ‘you can’t’…”

“I did it for Dennis!” Colin suddenly exclaimed aloud, his eyes pleading with Harry to understand. “He’s got him, Harry! He’s the one who took him from Diagon Alley this summer! He would’ve killed him had I not done what he wanted! I had no choice!”

Harry swiped a hand down his face, fighting the murderous feeling that suddenly made him want to bolt over to where Colin floated between the two Death Eaters and beat him senseless. Had he honestly thought Voldemort would actually keep his end of the bargain?

Then again, he had to remind himself Colin had never had the sort of interaction with the dark bastard that Harry himself had. And if the situation were reversed, what would he have done?

Harry glanced over to Voldemort and then to Lucius Malfoy, both of whom wore knowing expressions he found all too familiar. He sighed heavily and turned his gaze back to the other boy again. Best to get the truth out in the open now rather than later, no matter how much he hated it…

“He’s already dead, Colin. Probably has been for some time…”

“NO HE ISN’T!” Colin screamed aloud through gritted teeth. “He’s kept him from me until I finished spying for him on you and Dumbledore! Now you’re here, he’ll let him go!”

Harry looked almost ill. He turned his gaze from the heaving, miserable form of Colin, back to Voldemort.

“Sick bastard… You’ve got what you wanted, why don’t you just tell him the truth for Merlin’s sake!? How long has he been gone…”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, HARRY!” Colin shouted furiously. “I TOLD YOU…”

“You’ve got me… I give up, alright? Just give him Dennis’ body and let him leave…”

“He’s still ALIVE for Godric’s sake!…”

“I can’t give the boy what I don’t have,” Voldemort interrupted; his face set with a twisted sort of indifference.

Harry closed his eyes briefly against the cruel blow and then, much as he wished not to, turned to regard the other boy.

Colin stared horror-struck from Voldemort to Harry, his face flushed red, and his mouth opening and closing as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.

“N..no… NO…”

“Got to be quite a nuisance, actually,” Voldemort supplied. “Early on it became quite obvious he had no useful information to supply, though he did try. I eliminated him after only a few days…”

“OH GOD, NO!” Colin cried out with an anguished scream, his voice rough and high-pitched.

Harry flinched almost painfully and turned his gaze back on Voldemort. “Let him GO, dammit! You can’t use him anymore!”

“In all actuality, it would be more accurate to say the younger Creevey has been gone for around two years, would it not Lucius?” The dark lord continued conversationally, ignoring Harry’s demand.

Malfoy gave a short nod, revelling the same as his master in their control of the situation but feeling as if he would rather not travel down this particular lane of memory. The way the body had lain in Voldemort’s cabin for over three months until the dark lord decided what to do with it… the way the odour would have been unbearable had they not continued to cast anti-decay charms on it… He shuddered, feeling suddenly ill.

Colin was too distraught to hear anything more, but Harry caught the odd deviation in Voldemort’s story. He eyed him suspiciously.

“Two years?” Harry said with a hard sarcasm to his voice. “Dennis was taken this summer, or have you been hiding out like a pansy-arse for so long you’ve lost track of time and reality…”

Voldemort smiled humourlessly and ignored the off-colour comment.

“I’m well aware of everything around me, Harry. Pity I can’t say the same for you. Tell me… did the Ministry ever identify the bones discovered in Knockturn Alley some two years ago?”

Harry stared hard at him for a moment, and then slowly began to blanche. A shell-shocked look began to draw on his features, one that Colin, even in his state of distress, somehow noticed.

“Harry? Wh..What’s he on about…”

“That’s not possible…” Harry began, his breathing laboured.

“It was positively confirmed the bones were of a fifteen year old boy, but that they were not, as originally thought, the bones of a fifteen year old Stuart Kavan, missing from Hogwarts so long ago and thought dead, was it not?” Voldemort continued on as mundanely as if he were speaking of the weather. “You and the mudblood girl understood this to be true even before science wizards confirmed it, having personally met Kavan, very much alive and grown to adulthood, before I later eliminated him. Tell me Harry, whose bones did you suppose them to be?”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Harry barked out abruptly, agitated. “I know it wasn’t Stuart Kavan they found, but it sure as hell wasn’t Dennis Creevey! It was just THIS SUMMER he was taken! He was at school with us that whole bloody year, for god’s sake!”

Voldemort nodded casually and began to fumble about for something within the folds of his robes. What he pulled out was a tiny, familiar looking hour glass set on the end of a long chain.

“Recognise this?”

Staring in disbelief, Harry fell back a step.

Oh fuck, no…

As a result Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, his wand still aimed and his every sense attuned to any desperate action Potter might make.

“What is that…” Colin demanded aloud. “What IS that, Harry!?”

“Time turner,” Harry stated in a voice that came out flat and emotionless.

He was having a hard time wrapping his mind round the concept… Two years ago the time turner had not yet been stolen, so how could the bones found in Knockturn Alley have been Dennis Creevey’s, when he was still safe in school with the rest of them, and would not be kidnapped or killed until a year later? It was understandably hard to conceive, and yet, Voldemort could have travelled back two years and placed the bones there, could he have not? The night Hermione was attacked and the time turner had been stolen, had history been changed? Was the two year old recollection of the bones found in Knockturn Alley only a recent one for them all? Had it just lately grooved itself into their memories? The idea was mind boggling, and yet, Harry had to concede, somehow possible. After all what did they truly know about time travel and the changes it effected?

“It is amazing how the manipulation of time can play such remarkable tricks on the mind, is it not?” Voldemort continued in a pleased sort of tone . “However, being as slow as you are, Harry, I suppose there are a few things you have not yet understood. The discovery of the mudblood boy’s bones two years ago marked the end of the apathetic lull our world has lapsed into. It was the first warning I sent regarding my return. For too long our world has lived under the illusion that Muggle interbreeding and the mixing of our races would be tolerated considering I, the one who was to right it all, had gone. However, the world will soon be put to rights again. Those who were sent to the alleged ‘secret encampment’, and the rest of the wizarding world now understand it; they know I have returned.”

“Not for long,” Harry snarled, his voice dripping with corrosive hatred. “You’ll be burning in hell before this day is over. Look for me, I’ll be the one holding the gates open.”

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. “I’ve always known the boy was delusional. You have seen you’re disarmed and hopelessly outnumbered, have you not?”

Harry smirked nastily back at him. “How does it feel to have your own son betray you? You did know he’s joined our side, did you not?”

Malfoy growled aloud and the golden hand that held his wand shook with suppressed fury. “You… You’ve never been anything but an arrogant, over-prized, worthless little bastard, Potter! You whose own family has never cared for you; whose own parents were too snivelling and weak to live and protect you… or is it that they simply did not care enough?”

Harry howled with rage and rushed forward, heedless of the danger. It was just what Malfoy had been waiting for.

“PESTIS CONLABOUR!”

“HARRY!” Colin screamed in warning.

“NO!” Voldemort raged violently, grabbing Malfoy’s arm and forcing it down while temporarily losing sight of Harry.

The curse barely missed him, and Harry took the fleeting moment when both of his enemies were distracted to dive behind a pile of crates to one side of the large dark room, mentally raging at himself for losing his temper.

“IDIOT!” Voldemort barked savagely at Malfoy, his eyes glowing with such a powerful, fiery red that his second in command backed up fearfully. “If you had killed him… He is to be left to ME! My powers will return to me ONLY if I am the one to kill them!”

Behind the crates, Harry had only a moment’s time to wonder confusedly if Voldemort had misspoke when he said ‘kill them’ rather than ‘kill him’, before the dark lord spoke again.

“You have disobeyed me, Lucius… It is no different with you than with the others. You must be disciplined…”

Malfoy recoiled pathetically before his master’s wrath, realising too late that his hatred of Potter had led him to do something hasty.

“Master, please… The Potter boy has caused me nothing but trouble since the first day he began school… I..I behaved rashly… Please forgive me…”

Voldemort held out his wand, his voice deep with frenzied rage. “CRUCIO!”

Malfoy dropped to the floor screaming aloud, his arms and legs pounding the wood and his voice straining with such a high-pitched vacillating wail, so different from how it normally sounded, that Harry’s stomach felt distinctly unsettled. He was dimly aware of Colin whimpering in the background, and without delay decided the younger boy was in more immediate danger of dying than he himself was. He needed to get him out of there.

Voldemort muttered a silencing charm on Malfoy and finally lifted the Cruciatus Curse, deciding to himself he had no need of hearing the other whimper. He turned his back on him, gathered his wand in one hand and Salazar Slytherin’s sword in the other, and began to pace about the cabin’s main floor, his blood red eyes cautiously searching out every hidden nook and cranny.

“Come out, Harry. I know you are still here; you would not leave your classmate behind, nor would you risk the mudblood’s life by running. You have nowhere to hide. My servant was right in one regard… you are far outnumbered, hundreds upon hundreds to one. You are going to die. And when I have done with you, your best friend and girlfriend are next.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his throat as he watched Voldemort pace closer and closer to where he was hidden, Godric Gryffindor’s sword lying unfortunately some three feet in front of the silently moaning form of Lucius Malfoy. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to curse the dark lord, somehow grab Colin away from the two Death Eaters, and make a run for it to the back of the cabin for his broom. Only when Colin was on it and safely away would he return to fight Voldemort. It was the only way to get the other boy out of harms way, and keep the dark lord from using him to keep Harry in line.

No time like the present… Harry thought snidely to himself.

He raised his arm with palm out and, so that his spell would have the most power behind it he could muster, waited until the dark lord moved as close as he could safely allow…

“This is the end, Harry. The end of all that was never supposed to be. Come out and face me; let us determine which Slytherin is strong enough, worthy enough to live…”

“EFFUNDO!”

An enormous flaming ball of electric blue energy suddenly erupted from Harry’s palm and struck Voldemort fully in the chest, forcibly throwing him backward some five feet to the ground and wrenching the sword and wand from his hands.

Harry leapt into action.

He sprinted across the room in what seemed only three or four strides and quickly tossed a couple of curses at the two stunned Death Eaters grappling beneath their robes for wands.

One dodged away and aimed a frenzied curse at Harry.

“ASPELLO!”

Harry threw himself to the floor and reached his sword in time. He quickly wrenched the blade upright, deflecting the driving curse off the metal with a hard, vibrating ping, and immediately after, scrambled to his feet and charged forward.

Behind him Voldemort was coming round, and Harry knew time was fast slipping from him. He was yards from reaching one of the Death Eaters when the wizard threw another wild curse at him. Harry ducked it, slid deftly to his knees and took a hard, full circling swing at the wizard’s legs. The force of the heavy sword sliced one leg clean away at the knee and chopped halfway into the other before the man even understood what had happened. Bright red blood began spurting forward much like small sprinkler pipes as he buckled to the ground screaming, and Harry took a very brief moment to grab the man’s wand and snap it into.

Utterly stricken with horror and filled with a dark rage, the other Death Eater screamed aloud and grabbed beneath his cloak for his sword. He hefted it up and then swung it downward at Harry with such a gravitational descending force that when it contacted his own blade with a loud resounding CLANG, Harry realised the shivering metal was inches from his nose. He shoved the crushing blade away with all of his might and roared out another curse, his head pounding with a rising panic…

Hurryhurryhurryhurry…

“DEPULSIO!”

The curse did not hit full on, and the Death Eater was merely shoved backward hard enough to stumble into Voldemort’s chair and topple over it to the floor. However, the distraction was long enough. Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed onto Colin’s shaking arms, feeling the rough, magical binding beneath his fingers.

“Finite Incantantum!”

Colin dropped unceremoniously to the floor, instantly freed, and Harry grabbed him upright and began to yank him bodily toward the hallway just as Voldemort finally got his feet beneath him.

“CRUCIO!”

The curse grazed Harry’s right leg and almost took him to the floor with the intense pain. He yelled out and began to crumble, but Colin instantly grabbed onto him, throwing one arm about his shoulders and hauling him along. Harry pushed the tip of his sword along the floor like a cane to help him walk, aware of every millisecond passing… every small sound behind him promising Voldemort was about to scream out another curse…

The dark lord’s feet made no noise as he maniacally rushed forward, the power of his magic half flying him to his destination, his sword again in one hand, while the other wrapped tightly, white-knuckled round his wand. His next curse blew a great chunk of wood out of the wall directly above the two boy’s heads, both of them wincing and ducking as they hobbled/ran along, great splinters of wood falling about their heads.

They succeeded in rounding the corner of the cabin, and Voldemort knew Potter must be leading them toward wherever he had come in, trying in vain to get the other boy to safety.

The dark lord whirled about quickly, screaming out a spell that hauled the worthless Lucius Malfoy to his feet, and quickly lifting the silencing charm.

Malfoy sputtered, his limbs still trembling in shock from the Cruciatus Curse.

“Get UP, worthless fool! Pull yourself together! Potter must NOT be allowed to escape!”

Malfoy stumbled along after Voldemort, his legs feeling a bit better as he moved them along. They ran down the stubby end of the hall and turned to the right, following the longer hallway until it took them to an obvious hole cut into the wood, the now bright sunlight of mid-morning pouring through the opening.

Malfoy scrambled through before Voldemort, always first in case there was any unsuspecting blow or curse, and finally stood upright. Voldemort followed to see the Creevey boy straddling Potter’s broom some few yards in the distance; Potter backing away from him and frantically shouting instructions.

“Kick off! Just kick off Colin! Grab on tight and lay yourself low!”

“Harry, I can’t just leave you here, come with me!”

“I CAN’T, just get OUT of here!”

“HARRY!”

“GO, DAMMIT!” Harry commanded frantically as he waved him away, catching sight of Malfoy and Voldemort in the millisecond of indecision that fell upon them as they emerged from the cabin.

Colin saw them as well and with a final bolt of panic heeded Harry’s advice. He kicked unsteadily off from the ground, the powerful broom teetering under him until he was able to gather some control. He leaned forward as he had been instructed and the broom sped off, almost unseating him.

A wild spray of curses followed after him, one actually hitting the straw end of the broom and almost causing him to go into a tailspin, but Colin held fast and rounded the corner of the cabin, speeding off into the trees before anyone could stop him.

Harry could not help a smile of satisfaction despite his own situation. Colin was safely away. At least that had been one life he had been able to save. He knew many more would die before all was over.

The moment the other boy left his sight Harry swung about, his sword held aloft and ready.

Malfoy growled and stepped forward, but a restraining hand on his arm stopped him.

“No Lucius,” Voldemort rasped calmly. “Potter’s death will be mine, as it was always intended.”

Malfoy nodded, although somewhat resentfully and stepped back, leaving Voldemort to glide forward, his grim, white face set with evil determination.

“Are you ready, Harry? There will be no reprieve this day… no idle threats or promises of later. We will finish this right now, you and I. And after, I will settle scores with the mudblood and the blood-traitor as well.”

Harry grimaced angrily as they began slowly circling one another, each keenly aware of the other’s every move.

“What the hell do Ron and Hermione have to do with ANY of this…” He demanded rather than asked. “You kill me, you’ve got what you wanted, right? And how do you think their deaths will matter to me if I’m to die first!? How am I to know about them!?”

Voldemort smirked unpleasantly. “Your arrogance astounds me. How you think everything must have to do with you… Once again you've been blinded to the truth...”

Harry snorted. “What truth...”

“You’re death is my ultimate goal, it is true,” said Voldemort by way of explanation.. “But my supreme reign over the witches and wizards of this world can never be unless my full powers return to me. I must kill all three of you to ensure that happens.”

For a surprised moment, Harry faltered and Voldemort took his chance.

“Pestis Conlabour!”

“RETROACTUM!” Harry bellowed, his deflection charm barely in time to save his own life.

Voldemort caught the deflected curse on the flat side of his blade and diverted it to the ground where it sizzled and smoked on a pile of dried leaves.

He smiled.

“Careless, Potter… as I said, I’ve seen your weaknesses…”

“What the hell d’you mean you have to kill us all to get your powers back!?” Harry demanded angrily. “Ron and Hermione…”

“Are part of you,” Voldemort intoned dangerously. “They are part of the covenant of the triangle Sybil Trelawney divined.”

Harry felt shock buzz along his system at Voldemort’s knowledge of the year's events, but kept his guard up, his sword held perpendicular to his side.

When Voldemort next spoke, his voice was filled with a sort of sick loathing.

“Surprised, Potter? The Creevey mudblood has provided me with more information this year than you realise, though it has taken my own knowledge of the forces of magic to make sense of it. Weasley, Granger and yourself have forged a bond,” he sneered. “One fraught through and through with an ancient magic. They have become your strength, and you have become theirs. I kill only you, Potter, and the whole is not destroyed. You are the heir to Gryffindor and to Slytherin, it is true, but you three are the obstacle to my full return to power. I understand that now, much as I understand that their deaths are no longer simply a means to demoralize you. Their deaths have now become a necessity. And necessity warrants swift response, does it not?”

Harry felt his breathing become laboured and frenzied. His face flushed red with astonishment and a burning fury. His eyes blazed a magnificent bright green, and the sword in his hands suddenly felt lighter from the intense rush of adrenaline that began throbbing through his veins. His entire body began to glow a gleaming, wavering blue, one so brilliant that Lucius Malfoy shaded his eyes, his heart pounding in horror. Just what the hell was happening?

“Power is a heady thing, is it not Harry?” Voldemort snarled as he eyed him, a barely shaded bit of envy in his voice. “However, untrained power is as useless as none at all. Do not think your angry display has any effect on me…”

But Harry had heard nothing past the threat Voldemort had posed toward Ron and Hermione. His blood pounded so furiously in his head that he was unable to hear much of anything save his own screaming, compounding rage.

In a movement so fast it looked almost blurred, he rushed forward and lashed out with his sword, catching Voldemort off-guard and slicing into his arm.

Voldemort howled aloud and all discussion came to a halt. The true fight had begun.

Their blades met over and over again with the ear-splitting crash of metal on metal, Harry trying his best to push his rage to the back of his mind to better concentrate on what he was doing.

Voldemort cut his sword in a wide arc toward Harry’s neck but he ducked it, hearing the ominous whistle of wind rush over his head. He straightened and cut down with his own blade managing to crush the dark lord’s own to the ground. Voldemort kicked out, caching Harry in the gut and Harry fell hard to the ground, his sword flying from his hands. Immediately he scrambled for it, Voldemort swiping his own up from the ground and chopping down at him with it. Harry rolled, and rolled again, barely missing the sharp edged sword chopping out chunks of earth where he had just been. He kicked out himself, catching one of Voldemort’s ankles and throwing him off balance, giving Harry just enough time to jump to his feet, his sword again parrying forceful blows.

Unaware they were doing so, both began steadily moving the fight round the cabin. Lucius Malfoy shadowed them, his wand out and to the ready, though he was unsure what he would have done with it given the chance as both were clashing so quickly together that he could not be sure which he might hit.

Voldemort and Harry continued on, moving further around the cabin until they came close to the inner encampment, neither concentrating on anything but the other's next move. So intent were they on the battle that they failed to realise something of great consequence had happened a bit further in the camp while they had been otherwise occupied.

Finally the time came when, for one brief moment, both had lost their weapons and were scrambling to retrieve them.

Breathing open-mouthed, Harry jumped up quickly after retrieving his sword, his robe now tattered in pieces and his clothes moulded with sweat and dirt to his body.

He glanced at Voldemort, yards away and in a similar state as he was, and saw that instead of the dark lord rushing toward the fight with him again, that he stood stock still, staring past him into the inner camp. His overly-tall, pale body was rigid with an acute sort of twisted fulfilment, as if some dream he had never thought would come to pass had finally done so.

And suddenly filled with an awesome sense of foreboding, Harry whipped around.

Death Eaters, giants, centaurs, goblins, trolls and all other manner of wizarding creature that had joined Voldemort had gathered together as one huge mass and were grouped in the middle of the camp. Most disturbing for Harry was the fact that now, mixed with them, were many of the Slytherin students from fifth year up who's parents had pulled them out from school some months ago. They stood with their Death Eater fathers and mothers, wielding wands and expressions of hatred that seemed utterly out of place on faces so young.

On the outskirts of the great open camp, and protected for a time by what appeared to be an enormous, all-encompassing, golden opaque forcefield, stood a group of what appeared to be hundreds of wizards and witches of all ages and races. Interspersed amongst and between them were all manner of, ironically, many of the same types of wizarding creatures that had joined the dark side. Firenze the centaur stood with a group of around ten of his own. Eighteen goblins huddled together near the middle. Hagrid stood to one side with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons, both with wands at the ready. Every teacher from Hogwarts was present. And most unbelievable, what appeared to be Hogwarts' entire student population from fifth year up. Since the school's numbers had diminished so severely, there were only about sixty five students to speak of, but the number was not what was so compelling. It was the fact that they were students, and none were a day over seventeen. They stood with the rest, Ravenclaws mixed with Gryffindors mixed with Hufflepuffs mixed with the few Slytherin's left, including Draco Malfoy; each face white with terror, but set with grim determination.

Albus Dumbledore, standing tall, regal and majestic headed the huge crowd, Minerva McGonnagol on his one side, Harry's father on his other, and Ron and Hermione standing immediately near them.

Harry felt his knees weaken. His eyes met his Dumbledore's, his father's, Ron's, and then... Hermione's. Her pale, expression was so full of emotion it was almost unfathomable. She looked so desperate as her eyes raked him over, so deeply anxious, so incredibly in fear for Harry's own life that he almost could not bear to look at her. But at the same time he was helpless to look away. He felt at any moment she might begin raging at him with her eyes for leaving her... might burst out sobbing for the situation they were all now in, on the brink of a very large battle, might try frantically gesturing at him to run... but as she stared at him, he was overwhelmed by the simple response he got.

I love you.

He could not hear her behind the forcefield, but he watched her lips tremble as she formed the words, her eyes staring at him in such a way that made him feel as if she was baring his own soul.

I love you, too.

In a flash, the invisible shield that, until then, had been responsible for holding the battle at bay suddenly vanished with a wave of Dumbledore's hand.

Oddly, no one spoke or moved until Voldemort, his eyes alight with eagerness and bloodlust, moved forward, deciding to temporarily pause his battle with Harry.

“Dumbledore.”

For being in such a wide open space, the word seemed to echo through the forest as if it were nothing more than a small enclosed room.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes locking with Harry's own for one brief second. Harry understood the look.

Move back with us...

Harry kept his sword aloft as he stepped carefully backward toward the tree line, his eyes never leaving Voldemort or the hundreds of Death Eaters and creatures that watched his every move, but took no actions to stop him.

Finally reaching the masses that made up Dumbledore's own army, he moved in with the crowd, hands reaching out to touch him in some way... students from school, members of the Order... Colin Creevey... ( he must have stopped his flight upon meeting with the rest) his father... Sirius...

“Glad to see you're still in one piece Harry,” Sirius said gruffly, swiping behind his long black hair at what looked suspiciously like a tear travelling down his worn cheek.

Hermione rushed over to Harry and grabbed him round the middle, burying her face in his chest; her body shaking so hard he felt she might come falling apart. He grabbed her to him and shared a short, meaningful look with Ron over her head.

“Don't you ever do that to us again, mate,” Ron ordered angrily, his voice husky with emotion. “Never again, you hear me?”

Harry merely nodded at him and buried his face in the top of Hermione's head.

Fluffy white clouds travelled through the blue sky overhead. The sun streamed inappropriately cheerful through the dead trees. A light wind made old branches creak above them and stirred dead leaves forward between their feet. Tent flaps slapped open and closed, robes whipped about, and hundreds of attentive ears tuned into the conversation that had just begun between Voldemort and Dumbledore; two generals leading opposing forces speaking one last time before battle.

“You should have let it go, Tom.” Dumbledore suddenly spoke into the fateful morning, his burning blue eyes fixed onto Voldemort's own glowing red ones.

Voldemort sneered at the old man as if he were the epitome of everything he hated. In truth, he was.

“Let it go? When I am so close to accomplishing my goals?” He rasped in a high-pitched demonic sounding voice. He stepped forward, brandishing his sword. “Oh no, Dumbledore. Our time has finally come. The time to end things once and for all. My powers will return to me this day... your pathetic army will be defeated... and the return of the world as it was meant to be, before corruption took hold, is at hand. The fates have been kind, have they not? It is all now within my reach.”

Dumbledore gave no reaction whatsoever to the speech. Each side seemed to tense, as if they were sure at any moment they would be called upon to charge.

“I have warned you over and over through the years,” the Headmaster said. “You are right. The time to end things once and for all has come. This ends today.”

Voldemort roared aloud, his voice unearthly and frightening as he whipped out his wand and aimed it at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore raised his own.

The forest suddenly came to life with the thunder and rumble of hundreds and hundreds of bodies suddenly in motion, voices screaming curses and shouts of war, wands and swords suddenly aloft and crashing together, and two sides rushing forward to clash in the middle...

"All Day Permanent Red" by Christopher Logue (an excerpt of a more contemporary rewriting of the Iliad).

“...See an East African lion

Nose tip to tail tuft ten, eleven feet

Slouching towards you

Swaying its head from side to side

Doubling its pace, its gold-black mane

That stretches down its belly to its groin

Catching the sunlight as it hits

Twice its own length a beat, then leaps

Great forepaws high great claws disclosed

The scarlet insides of its mouth

Parting a roar as loud as sail-sized flames

And lands, slam-scattering the herd.

This is how Hector came on us..."

A/N: Hi guys... so this small excerpt of the above poem is where I got the title for this particular chapter. The name “All Day Permanent Red” really speaks of a day of war... and I thought the description of the lion, even though the name given to it is “Hector” sounded like Gryffindor. Anyway, this is only part one of the war, of course. Next chapter is part two, the war in its entirety. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think so far, please!)

36. Chapter 36: All Day Permanent Red Part Two

(A/N: Ok, so I’ve had quite a few requests to get my arse moving along on this story, and I can’t say I blame you guys! *blush* So, I’ve decided rather than make you wait longer, I’ll make the war into three chapters rather than two, so I can get some out to you now. I think I’ve left it in a good spot, as what happens after seems to be enough for the last and final war chapter. Please don’t flame me for the long wait! As I’ve said, the muse slaps me across the face at the strangest of times! Hee hee… that being said, here’s part two.)

Chapter 36: All Day Permanent Red: (Part Two)

"If We Must Die"-Claude McKay

"If we must die--let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursed lot.

If we must die--oh, let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed in vain.

Then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honour us though dead!

Oh, Kinsmen! We must meet the common foe;

Though far outnumbered, let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!"

The immediate pandemonium erupting within the once relatively quiet woods was violent and fraught through with wild roaring, wailing of the first wounded, screams of curses and spells, the sharp sounds of clanging blades, and travelling fresh on the wind, the bitter, metallic tang of blood.

The sudden rushing forward and clashing of both sides had ended the separation of one side from another, and as a result, had effectively come between and separated Dumbledore and Voldemort from one another just as they had raised wands to begin their own battle.

In the midst of the confusion, Harry quickly lost sight of those he wished most to keep his eyes on. He hadn't much time to think on it though before he found himself tossing curses at the charging Death Eater in front of him, and immediately after, crashing swords with another behind him.

Dementors suddenly glided forth from the trees where they had apparently been hovering in wait, sucking on the morning air and swooping in and out of the madness, looking for the weak and those who straggled on the edges of the encampment. The dampening charms Voldemort had placed on them continued to waylay most of the dark creature's side effects, but did little to help the dreadful gloom and icy chill their mere presence brought with them, or the awful screams of their victims as they were born down upon. The dark creatures being there amidst what was already a horrific battle served to bring even more panic into the mix.

Chaos soon turned to pandemonium.

Harry was awarded brief glances of those he loved amidst it all. While cutting fiercely at a Death Eater in front of him and trying his best to avoid bumping into the mesh of flailing bodies battling round him, he caught a quick glimpse of Hermione through the throng. She was some twelve yards away from him leaning on the ground over an unconscious Kingsley Shacklebolt. Somehow, amidst the havoc surrounding her she was managing to find a way to concentrate her healer skills on the wounded. She ignored the screaming and the centaur's hooves that nearly trampled them both, ignored the spells that passed perilously close-by, and closed her eyes. A brilliant amethyst light spread outward from the small hand pressed onto the Aurors dark head and travelled like some type of ethereal purple-glowing rope throughout his body.

The moment he opened his eyes and took Hermione's helping hand to help pull himself up he was off again, looking somewhat stunned but alright enough to continue the fight.

Hermione took off again as well, finding another to help, and Harry found himself chanting a mantra to her inside his head as he whipped about and chopped his sword into the momentarily exposed side of the Death Eater he had been duelling, slicing it out just as quickly and watching him crumple to the ground.

Becarefulbecarefulbecarefulbecareful...

Near him, Charlie Weasley had immediately honed in on Bellatrix Lestrange, almost as if he had rushed forward to meet her at the onset. He was battling her fiercely, tossing curses and jinxes so quickly his wand was almost a blur. The fierce, unforgiving expression on his ruddy face told what he was thinking as clearly as if he was shouting it out for everyone to hear. He wanted her dead for what had happened to Bill.

Harry could hardly think to blame him for it.

On the other side of the camp, Ron was already bloody and covered in dirty cuts and scrapes as he took a hard crack to the arm from the goblin he was fighting, the hard knobbly staff striking him so hard he felt the bone might be broken.

Howling aloud he stumbled back a few steps, tossing his wand from that hand to his other and simultaneously waving away an anxious, swiftly approaching Madame Pomfrey, who looked as if she had already fought a few battles, herself.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" He bellowed.

She took him at his word and whirled away to find another.

The short, stubby goblin was approaching again, his staff raised, his lined, horrid face livid, and his wide mouth pulled back in a feral, sharp-toothed grimace. Ron caught the brunt of the swipe with the hand of his injured arm, doing his best to ignore the agony and yanking hard on the staff. Goblins were known for their skill at the staff, but Ron had more weight and muscle on his side. He managed to yank it hard enough that the goblin was pulled off kilter and stumbled forward.

Ron aimed his wand.

"Propulso!"

The goblin launched backwards as if punched by some giant fist, his staff soaring from his hands, and his flying body knocking five others down behind him.

However, there was no time to dwell on the victory. Ron was immediately assaulted from behind by a centaur's hooves and turned abruptly with wand outstretched to begin it all again.

Mr. Weasley was duelling Lucius Malfoy at the wand, the latter of whom had such a look of smug reassurance on his face that it was all Arthur could do not to let the overwhelming urge to permanently wipe away that smirk away distract him. Already he was having to push thoughts of Bill out of his mind and concentrate on the task at hand, though the fact he was fighting with one of the people responsible for his son's death made it extremely hard for him to think objectively.

Toward the back of the melee Hagrid was wielding his umbrella/wand; now without fear of any consequence. He was engaged in a fierce duel with Igor Karakoff, the latter of whom seemed more troubled by the sheer size of the half-giant facing him than by the force of his opponent's magic.

Dumbledore was in the middle of the crowd, waving his wand at any wizard, witch or creature who dared cross paths with him and, for the most part, flinging them away as effortlessly as tossing a quaffle. His eyes stayed fixed intently on Voldemort who was currently duelling past Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius, finally blasting them both out of his way. It seemed his goal was to reach Dumbledore as well, his thoughts of killing Harry and his friends temporarily put on hold until his old nemesis was out of the way.

They drew steadily closer.

Harry's father finally succeeded in downing the giant he'd been lobbing curses at; the enormous creature finally teetering dangerously on huge jelly-like legs until he fell to his knees with a hard thud, the ground shaking for a moment almost as violently as it had done the day Hogsmeade had been destroyed. The giant suddenly toppled forward and, almost panicking, James sprinted out of the way. He watched horrified as it slammed to the ground, crushing some six people and five creatures beneath it; the impact causing great rivers of blood to pour from its open eyes, nose and mouth.

Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom were currently engaged in a battle with three Death Eaters on the edge of the forest clearing. Each of the boys were hiding behind large dead trees, their hearts thumping wildly out of their chests as they chanced popping round the trunks and trading hexes and curses with their enemies; answering curses blasting huge, dry chunks of wood right from where they had just stood.

Harry, now battling furiously to get to Bane the Centaur, who had an arrow taut in its bow and aimed at Minerva McGonnagol, again caught a glimpse of Ron. He was hanging precariously onto the neck of a troll and trying his best to beat it round the head with his fists, while Parvarti Patil shouted frantic curses at it from behind. He had no time to help as his professor was in the most immediate danger and did the first thing he could think. Sprinting toward the large, black, half-horse, half-man, he slammed his shoulder into him as hard as he could, causing the arrow to lose it's mark and fly wildly up into the air where it thudded vertically into a giant's eye. Bane staggered sideways, too large to have been thrown completely to the ground and watched with fury as the wounded giant began swiping madly about with his ham-sized fists, knocking not only those from Dumbledore's army through the air, but also those from his own side. Bodies went careening overhead, some hurtling through the crowd to bowl into others, and still others flying into the trees and slamming into hard, dead trunks, instantly killed.

But by the time Bane had nocked another arrow into his bow and whipped about to exact revenge, Potter had disappeared into the crowd.

The tumult and confusion began to compound. Those still fighting were left to stumble across the wounded and the dead quickly littering the ground. Moans and cries of pain mixed with the sharp sounds of battle. Blood ran in small, thick rivers from sword and arrow wounds, soaking the earth and spattering up on the legs of others as they ran past. Severed body parts turned up near duellers and fighters in the most unsuspecting of places.

Harry stumbled past the wreckage, his sword coated in congealed blood, sprays of dark red droplets lining his dirty, worn face, and his own body covered in small stab wounds and cuts. The bodies of those he recognised littering the ground filled him with unending amounts of horror.

It felt as if he were witnessing the end of the world. It was the end of the one he had known, at any rate.

Padma Patil laid sprawled on her back, her head twisted in an odd manner, and her eyes wide and unseeing. Sickened, Harry did the only thing he could think of and bent down to mutter a sticking charm to her eyelids to hold them closed. Molly Weasley had been badly trampled by a centaur, and was grimacing painfully as Madame Pomfrey waved her wand over her crushed legs.

Emmaline Vance, a stately looking witch belonging to the Order laid dead on the ground, her normally pristine robes torn and covered with wand ash. Dedalus Diggle, another Order member lay nearby, obviously dead, one arm missing below the elbow.

A sobbing Ernie Macmillan, whose grasp was being forcibly removed by another Ravenclaw boy Harry did not recognise, was sobbing as he cradled the body of Hannah Abbott.

Otto Bagman, brother of Ludo, had had his Death Eater's face mask ripped from him and was duelling fiercely at the wand with a filthy Mundungus Fletcher, the latter of whom seemed to be gaining a small advantage.

A panicky Katie Bell used her own hands as a tourniquet while holding Angelina Johnson's bleeding arm in a vice-like grip until Hermione, nearby, could get to them.

Miles Bletchley, a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team until he was recently taken from school by his parents to join Voldemort's side, was sprawled over another body, a surprised look forever frozen on his face, and a large goblin's spear protruding from his neck.

Not far to the left, Neville was now kneeling sorrowfully over the body of Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff he had recently taken a shine to. He also seemed to be applying some charm to shut her eyes.

Terry Boot of Ravenclaw lay dead nearby, with Mandy Brocklehurst of the same house sprawled directly beside him. Eddie Carmichael was sobbing over them both.

To Harry's surprise and for the first time that morning, he saw Percy together with his long-time girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, battling a troll.

Vincent Crabbe and Theodore Nott of Slytherin were running terrified from a Dementor who was gliding fast behind them sucking and rattling on the morning air, apparently so crazed with its own desire to feed that it did not care whose side it attacked.

Roger Davies of Ravenclaw lay sprawled so close to Harry's own feet as he stumbled along that he nearly tripped over him.

Harry began to feel despondent. The tip of his sword dug a thin, bloody trail in the ground behind him as he staggered past the carnage around him with a dazed, nauseated expression on his face.

Interspersed among the bodies of goblins, trolls, centaurs and various Death Eaters were those he had known and those he recognised.

Hestia Jones from the Order; Madame Pince, the librarian; Professor Sinistra; Zacharias Smith of Hufflepuff; Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Marcus Flint of Slytherin; Marietta Edgecomb from Ravenclaw; Jack Sloper and Patricia Stimpson from his own house, and others he recognised but had never got the chance to really know... all stared with glazed eyes up to the morning sky, unseeing... never to see again.

Despite himself, Harry dropped to his knees and vomited.

Some fifteen yards away Hermione was bent over professor Snape of all wizards, her eyes tightly shut and both of her hands pressed to a massive bleeding wound in his chest; that unearthly purple light wending in and out of his body. The Potions Professor was somehow still conscious and goggled at her in a way that Harry recognised as utter shock before being helped up by her. He moved on to join the fight once more, a wound that might have been fatal completely healed.

Still on the ground but beginning to pull himself up and together, Harry caught Hermione's haunted eyes for one blessed instant in that moment, and a look of bone-deep relief that spoke a thousand words without uttering one passed between them.

She was still alive...

He was still alive...

They could go on.

But something else caught his eyes directly perpendicular to Hermione and he froze; a look of utter abject horror washing over his face.

Ron was lying on the ground with Lucius Malfoy on his knees and leaning over him; that golden hand crafted in hell squeezed tight about his neck.

Harry's vision kept being obscured by the crowds battling between them but there was no mistaking what he had just seen.

Ron was dying.

Ron's fingers clutched convulsively at the hand round his neck, his face slightly purple with loss of oxygen, the heels of his feet kicking at the ground, his mouth stretched open and desperately trying to draw in air. Turning swollen eyes, he saw rather than heard Harry howling with rage and rushing toward him before his best friend was accosted again by a huge, muscled Death Eater wielding a sword and immediately slashing away at him with it. He watched Harry fight with him for a moment, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they crashed blurrily together over and over, Harry's sick, worried expression glancing past his burly opponent every time he was able.

Ron was simply waiting to die. He knew that now. So he watched.

He saw Hermione catch sight of him some ways away from Harry. She screamed in terror, tears streaming down her face as she rushed toward him, though even in the state he was in Ron found the strength to hold up a hand at her, his expression begging her not to come to his aid. It did not matter anyway. She was instantly drawn into a duel with a Death Eater.

Craning his neck upward, he could barely see Lavender behind him, sobbing hysterically as she tried crawling toward him, the curse she had taken sapping most of her strength.

"Ready to join your brother, Weasley?" Lucius Malfoy hissed madly through gritted teeth into ears that had already begun to lose their hearing. "You're bastarding family has stolen my son's allegiance from me... My master may wish you to die by his hand, but today you will die by MINE."

Ron gagged, tears streaming from his eyes, his vision darkening, and his mind suddenly, quite clearly recalling the dream he, Harry and Hermione had shared this past year. True, he knew now the dream had come from Voldemort, and that the dark lord had somehow, by way of their link, been able to plant it into all three of their minds as a way to make them all fear it was some vision of the future. It was also true his own death was not coming to pass the way the dream had shown it, although he was, as the dream had divined, being murdered by Lucius Malfoy all the same. And only weeks ago, Ron himself had vowed aloud to kill this very same bastard along with Bellatrix Lestrange, and whoever else it had been that had attacked his father and brothers.

How fucking ironic.

He turned his bloodshot eyes and they finally came to rest on Ginny who was blessedly still alive, and who had just caught sight of her brother.

Her eyes widened from some five yards away, a Death Eater clawing desperately at her torn jeans as he finally sagged dead to the ground.

"RON, NO!"

She had lost her wand during this last duel. She had no way to help him.

Her gaze turned left to right frantically, hands fisting in tangled hair and clawing at her dirty face as she searched for someone to help her. A spell from out of nowhere quite suddenly catapulted a goblin from behind her off his feet and over her head as the creature's spear came inches from stabbing her through. His short, thickly muscled body slammed to the ground in front of her, rolled, and lay still.

Stunned, Ginny whirled about.

Draco Malfoy stood behind her dirty and bloodied, his wand slowly lowering, his expression one of fury mixed with alarm and his chest heaving at what had almost happened.

Ginny launched herself at him and grabbed his arm before he could even reprimand her for losing focus.

"Help him.. HELP HIM, DRACO!" She begged aloud.

"Help who?"

"Hurry, he's dying! Ohmygod..."

"WHO!?" Malfoy grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "Who's dying, Red!?"

"RON!" Ginny wrenched from his grasp and flung herself around. "Your father's killing him! Help him! Oh gods, please, I've lost my wand! HELP HIM, PLEASE!"

Draco instantly moved forward and shoved past Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was momentarily distracted from conjuring a Patronus Charm against a large Dementor bearing down upon her.

There on the ground only yards away laid Weasley, his face discoloured and looking almost bloated with lack of oxygen. He was moments away from losing consciousness, Draco's own father squeezing the life from him with that massive golden paw from Voldemort he called a hand. He noticed Lucius had not to use much pressure as whatever magic the hand possessed seemed to do all the work for him.

"LUCIUS!" Malfoy commanded loudly, his wand extended and aimed at his father.

Surprised, the elder Malfoy turned his head slowly, his silvery hair gleaming in the sunlight, and Ron was afforded one brief, very much needed gasp of air before the hand began squeezing again.

The narrowed, grey eyes, so much like his own bore into Draco's and the snarling expression on his father's face turned feral.

"Hello Draco... so it is 'father' no more, I see..."

"Let him up," the younger Malfoy demanded, and although his voice came out strong, his hand shook a bit.

"Blood traitor…you always were a disappointment," Lucius hissed furiously, the golden fingers squeezing so powerfully now that Ron flailed. "I should have known you were too weak to join the side of the powerful. I should have killed you along with your mother when given the chance."

Draco's jaw dropped open despite himself; sharp prickles of fear and dread suddenly radiating through his body.

"Mother..."

"Dead. I killed her before you returned home for holiday during Christmas. She was weak as well, too bloody soft," Lucius sneered contemptuously, "too afraid of the changes my master intends to bring upon our world. However, there is no need to fret son, you will be joining her soon."

Narcissa... dead...

Despite the fact she had been for the most part emotionally absent; in Narcissa's own distant way of showing it Draco had known some sort of comfort, some sense of belonging...

It's official, now. I have no one.

Draco glanced down at Ron and then back at Ginny who was jerking convulsively as she sobbed, her fingers curled tightly into her mouth.

Past Grubbly-Plank and the two Dementors her boar-shaped Patronus now fought, past Dumbledore as he battled with two Death Eaters and a troll, and past numerous others he saw Potter ferociously blazing his way toward them as fast as he could, his movements hampered at every turn by a new battle, his sword cutting and slicing and crashing against another with frenzied blows, casting wandless curses about him when he was able to get a free hand.

But Draco knew it was not Potter who was going to end this. He would never reach them in time. Granger was still duelling with another Death Eater some ways behind him. No one else was fighting to get to them, they were all otherwise occupied or had not noticed. It was he himself who was going to end up dealing with Lucius. Much as he hated him, the thought of killing his own father left him feeling cold and empty. Fate had dealt him another cruel hand.

"Don't make me do it, Lucius," Draco said in a voice that came out emotionless and dead, though his wand hand trembled.

"He's stopped moving!..."

He heard Ginny behind him screaming into her hands, and she began to rush forward

despite the obvious fact there was nothing she could do.

Draco whirled about and grabbed her around the waist as she tried to rocket past him. She screamed and struggled with him but he steadied her, grabbing her arms, his eyes boring into hers, grey on blue, reassuring.

I'll do it... I'll do it, I swear...

"You are worthless!" Lucius laughed, turning his back on his son to concentrate on his task. "I have nothing to fear from you. From the very day you were born you were never worthy of the name Malfoy. Watch the Weasel die and do nothing, you weak little bastard..."

He continued belittling him, Ginny continued whimpering, Lavender Brown sobbed louder, her limbs disobeying her command to move forward, but Draco heard none of it. It was as if every sense in his body had suddenly attuned to one lone, solitary factor. Lucius Malfoy had to die. There was no cursing the man and sentencing him to Azkaban. There would be no long incarceration in the hopes he might one day change his thinking. The madman had long ago given himself over to evil, embraced it whole, and his entire body now coursed with it. If given only a slight chance he would try to escape and kill again; it was part of his depraved nature. And as the fates had decided, Draco was to be his judge and executioner.

He steeled himself and mentally placed his emotions under lock and key.

So be it.

"I'm sorry father," said Draco almost absently, not even realising he had, for the last time, called Lucius Malfoy the name he had vowed never to use again.

Ron, with eyes rolled back into his head, seemed to have finally lost consciousness as he had stopped fighting the strangle-hold the elder Malfoy had on him. Draco knew he had to act fast.

Lucius smiled as he continued squeezing, his teeth bared in a mad snarl as he craned his neck to look back at the younger Malfoy.

"Weakling," he spat out contemptuously. "You were NEVER my son."

Draco aimed his wand and let his mind recall Lucius Malfoy’s evil toward him throughout his entire life. He summoned up every last bit of rage and hatred he had within him, and directed it pointedly at the monster in front of him.

"You’re right… I wasn’t. Avada Kedavra!"

Instantly, the grip the elder Malfoy had on Ron slackened, and with an expression of hatred still frozen on his face, he slumped to the ground.

Ginny wasted no time rushing over to her brother. She dropped to her knees beside him, using an adrenaline-aided strength to shove Lucius Malfoy's body aside, and immediately bent over and began breathing into him.

Draco stared ahead numbly, his wand as yet still aimed where Lucius had been kneeling, his whole body slack with the odd feeling of having been anaesthetised. For him, time had abruptly gone still. He felt suddenly displaced; transported to some bizarre alternate reality...

Funny thing about the Avada Kedavra. The spell gave no time for preparation. One moment the victim was alive and in motion; next split-second, he was forever laid still.

Suddenly Draco wanted to scream... or laugh... or cry... or continue to stand there as fucking paralysed as he was now, staring at what he had just done.

And it had been surprisingly... easy.

Model of a future Death Eater, was he? Perhaps they had been right all along.

No one saw him as he walked away.

Ron spluttered back into life, Ginny kneeled beside him with an expression of giddy, crazed relief. She threw herself bodily onto her brother, sobbing and effectively crushing him once more.

"Oh gods Ron, you're ALIVE!"

Ron croaked weakly, his words muffled by her hair. "Mffgg... Gin... geroff..."

Lavender, having finally made it to his side clutched at Ginny's arm.

"He won't be for much longer if you continue to suffocate him!"

"OH! Oh, oh Ron I'm s..sorry!" Ginny wailed as she sat up, swiping at the tears that had marked clean trails down her face, and leaving great muddy smudges where there had once been just dirt.

However, as sounds of battle suddenly reintegrated themselves into their consciousness’, they knew there was little time to celebrate.

Ron sat up weakly, and was about to try speaking when Harry finally sprinted up to them and threw himself to his knees, his clothes ripped and bloody over wounds on his torso, face and hair hopelessly filthy with dirt and blood, and his sword, coated with congealed blood, still in hand.

"Ron, thank bloody Merlin!" he rasped, clearly out of breath from his last battle. He hung his head as if to cover up his obvious emotion and grabbed onto his friend's arm.

Ron thought to himself the only time he had seen Harry equally as pale was when Hermione had gone missing last year.

"Are you alright, mate?" Harry continued, helping Ron sit up fully.

"I will be," Ron rasped out, clutching at his throat.

Harry nodded then, and immediately wasted no further time.

"Ginny, you and Lavender grab Ron, move into the trees and lay yourselves low..."

"NO!" Ginny protested immediately. "We're just as capable as..."

"It's not about that!" Harry exclaimed abruptly, grabbing her arm. "Ron can't fight any more. He'll need help getting out alive from the middle of this. You two need to help him into the woods and hide yourselves with him until it's all over. Help protect him in case anyone comes after you. Understand?"

Ron looked angry, ready to argue and fight with Harry even in the state he was in to within an inch of his life, but Harry levelled him with a hard gaze.

Ron narrowed his eyes defiantly and shook his head. "I'm NOT LEAVING, Harry."

"You're in no shape to fight any more Ron," Harry interjected strongly. "You won't do anyone good chucking weak spells and getting yourself into worse shit..."

"It's supposed to be all THREE of us, dammit!" Ron screeched angrily through damaged vocal chords as hard as he could. "You've got to stop ignoring what Trelawny said!"

"I'm not ignoring it! But you're in no bloody shape to keep on fighting!" Harry retorted through gritted teeth, ducking his head and narrowly missing the errant, decapitating swipe of a blade as Kingsley Shacklebolt stomped past them fiercely battling a Death Eater.

Ginny screamed, clutching onto Lavender for support, who was frantically patting the ground around her for her wand.

Ron pounded a fist into the dirt and started to stand. "You NEED Hermione and I to win. If you think I'm just going to crawl off into the trees and wait it out you're bloody off your nut!"

"You know I'm right!" Harry pleaded, though for a moment, he lost focus on Ron as he caught sight of his father, some twenty metres away, who had just blasted two centaurs off of their hooves as they had been charging toward the small group on the ground.

Only yards away from their intended targets, the half-horses stumbled down onto their knees, strong, thickly muscled legs not able to hold them up against the force of the blasting spell James had wielded on them.

Dirt clods flew upwards from their hooves as the centaurs' whole bodies suddenly crumbled to the ground and skidded almost twelve yards to come to a halt directly in front of Harry; great clouds of dirt billowing upward where they had just slid to a rest.

Still kneeling beside Ron, Harry turned wide eyes upwards to meet his fathers own.

James pointed his wand at Harry for emphasis and, from the distance away that he was, shouted out angrily.

"Don't waste bloody time talking, son! Watch yourself!"

He turned away instantly to help Sirius who was duelling at the wand with two Death Eaters.

By the time Harry turned his gaze back down onto where Ron and the rest had been, he realised they had gone.

"DAMN IT!"

He jumped to his feet, his gaze sweeping the camp until he finally spotted one familiar head of blazing, red hair.

Ron was near Hermione, helping her duel with Bellatrix Lestrange who's black, Death Eaters hood had either come off during the fighting, or who had removed it herself.

Hermione had soon seen someone nearby who needed her healer skills and had sprinted off to help them, leaving Ron duelling the horrible witch, and looking thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement.

Harry could hardly blame him as she had been one of the one's responsible for Bill's death, and in any case, there was no more time to stand about watching.

It was time to search out his real target, and upon catching glimpse of Voldemort from across the encampment, he realised the dark wizard had been thinking along the same lines.

Voldemort had somehow separated himself from the rest of the battle, and stood tall and rigid toward the back of the camp. His arms were down and to his sides, wand in one hand, bloody blade in the other, and his unnatural, gleaming, ruby-red eyes planted fixedly on Harry.

The expression on his face was bone-chilling, even to Harry himself. It was odd how everything and everyone round the dark lord moved about in a mass of frenzied madness while Voldemort himself stood stock still; his chin in a downward tilt, evil face and blackened grin beckoning Harry forward toward him.

Harry could almost hear it in his mind.

Come forward, Potter... meet me... it is time...

At once Harry's eyes shone brilliant green with fury. His whole being began to blaze a powerful sapphire, wavering blue; the glow radiating off of him in heavy rolling waves.

He began to move across the camp toward the dark lord, somehow becoming unaware of the rest battling near him. Those who might have been in his way moved out of it with one awed glance at him anyway.

However, moment he drew more than halfway near his enemy, something completely unforeseen happened.

An enormous, opaque blue forcefield suddenly erupted in front of him; a solid, slightly humming wall of pure energy that seemed to reach as high as the trees in the dead forest.

Harry stopped short, his own surrounding, sapphire glow winking out with a loud snap; the trance-like state of focussed hatred he had been walking in, gone.

What the hell?....

He reached out a tentative finger to touch the wall, and felt a sudden electric burning ZAP. He jerked back, wincing and staring at his hand. It was when he looked up again, his gaze coincidentally landing elsewhere that he began to realise how wide the shield reached.

Harry began to turn round, his eyes searching for an end to the magical wall. He turned a full three hundred sixty degrees before he realised there was no end to it. It was a full circle.

For a brief, infuriating moment he thought the shimmery blue wall only encompassed Voldemort; that the dark lord had somehow conjured it as a cowardly way to protect himself from the fight.

But when his gaze landed on his enemy again, he realised Voldemort was staring with complete detestation at the only other person inside the barrier, and looked just as surprised, and just as infuriated as Harry, himself did.

The one hundred or so left fighting nearby had finally begun to realise what was happening, and some began to stop and gape as well; the wounded as well as those who were still unhurt.

Dumbledore lowered his wand and walked slowly from where he had been standing to the side of his and Voldemort's enclosure, standing on his side of the forcefield, and staring through the wall at Harry with piercing blue, very serious eyes.

Harry goggled at him.

"I may not be successful at what I am about to attempt," Dumbledore said to Harry in a low voice meant only for him. "I have heard the prophecies same as you have..."

"I know you have," Harry whispered quickly, frustrated. "Which is why I don't understand what you think you're doing!"

"I must try," Dumbledore said again, his eyes full of a sad sort of wisdom. "Prophecy or no, I must try."

"Why!? You know how it's supposed to end, I'm the one who has to kill him... with Ron and Hermione helping, of course..."

"A minor detail, Harry, you've been doing your best to ignore," Dumbledore cut in sternly. He sighed and gazed down at Harry again with the same unreadable look he had been giving him as of late. The one that spoke of volumes of secrets, and the one that held a puzzling emotion Harry still had not solved.

"Even if what I do serves only to buy you, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger time to regroup, even if it is an act of complete foolishness I am determined to try ending the fight here," Dumbledore continued, "before it comes to you."

"Why!?" Harry pressed again, "I don't understand..."

Dumbledore favoured him with a small, wise smile. "I have lived a long, full life, Harry. And yet, I have known for a very long time that my purpose, my last act on this earth was to be much greater than myself... I feel I am near it..."

"Sacrificing yourself for me!? What for!?" Harry exclaimed aloud.

Again Dumbledore smiled tiredly and fingered his wand. "You have never really known your own worth, or at least your worth to me... and that is not by your own fault... As with your father, it was the way it had to be. I once told you if I were able I would take your place. I have never said anything and meant it more completely than I did on that day."

Harry stared at him. "But you won't win! Even if you do buy us some time, even if you do weaken him a bit you'll be sacrificing yourself for NOTHING!"

"Oh, not for nothing," Dumbledore shook his head as he backed away from the forcefield, wand out and to his side, feeling Voldemort's deadly gaze burning into his back. Again he smiled sadly. "Never for nothing. There is one lesson I suspect you learned early on in life Harry, and one over which I have spent many years making agonising decisions; some wise and, unfortunately, some very foolish... There is no greater sacrifice... than that done for family."

For a few moments Harry stared at him, completely thunderstruck. His whole body stiffened with electric shock as he stared at Dumbledore backing away from him, turning his tall, thin, and yet magically powerful frame away from the astonished gaze of his great-granddaughter’s, Lily’s, son... and to the burning red gaze of yet another family member.

Voldemort gritted blackened teeth as he stared at Dumbledore, Salazar Slytherin's bloody sword gripped in one skeletal white hand and his wand in the other, his ruby-red gaze even more fiery and full of hatred than it had been when directed on Harry himself.

"You have made many mistakes throughout the years, haven't you Dumbledore?" Voldemort hissed furiously.

"The first being to take one such as yourself under my wing..." said Dumbledore regretfully as he held his wand aloft. "I should have looked beyond the ties of family... I should have seen the truth as it stared at me the day I took you from the orphanage to live at Hogwarts... I should have heeded the warning signs as you delved further and further into Salazar Slytherin's teachings and ideals..."

Voldemort grinned nastily. "As I have stated before, you always were foolishly preoccupied with loyalties to 'family'. Nevertheless, you should not have tried to stop my attempts at carrying on our ancestor's glorious work, or later, to end the bastarding bloodline that should never have been."

"You forget I am part of that bloodline," said Dumbledore as he and Voldemort began to circle one another.

Voldemort sneered, full of hatred. "I’ve forgot nothing."

Outside of the forcefield and staring in, Harry stood stock still, his thoughts and his eyes completely focussed on Dumbledore... the last heir to Slytherin other than Voldemort and himself. The thing seemed hard to believe and yet, somehow, missing pieces were beginning to form together to make the notion somewhat plausible.

Harry had never really understood what had possessed Dumbledore so long ago to pick Tom Riddle, of all wizarding orphans, to give free room, board and Hogwarts schooling. Now, it all made perfect sense. Tom Riddle was a relative... and Dumbledore valued family above all else, apparently no matter how distant the relation.

Harry supposed Voldemort would grow to hate one who tried to stop him from fulfilling his own dream of a 'pure' world. And upon finding out Dumbledore was his blood relative, and not only that, but a blood relative belonging to the side of the family that 'never should have existed', Voldemort must have grown to loathe him even more. Furthermore, Dumbledore had aided in hiding Harry from Voldemort after his parents' deaths, therefore keeping Voldemort from killing the threat to his rule, and becoming the last remaining heir to Slytherin besides Dumbledore himself.

Harry began to understand the animosity between the two for the first time, and on a deeper level than what he had understood before to be the simple clashing of one wizard's ideals with another. The enmity went way beyond what he had always imagined... and he, Harry, had been in the middle of, and part of it his entire life... and never known it.

Beyond all of that, Harry thought with a sickening lurch of his stomach, once again he, Harry, was faced with the fact that he had family left on this earth who had decided to give him over to the Dursleys to raise.

Only when James put a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Ron spoke feverishly to him did Harry come out from his state of shock.

"Mate," said Ron aloud, breathing hard. "I don't care what Dumbledore said to you, there's still a war going on! Leave them!"

Harry stared through him for a moment, and then at his father, who continued to glance behind him to make sure they weren't about to be assaulted.

"Are you alright?" James said quickly. "I've been trying to get your attention; you've nearly been attacked several times..."

"Where's Hermione!?" Harry asked at once, snapping out of it and looking round Ron and Lupin. "Where is she, I don't see her!"

"It's alright son, she's safe," said James quickly. "She's on the other side of the encampment seeing after the wounded. She and Madame Pomfrey have been levitating them all to one side to better care for them."

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and nodded, hefting his sword once again and following his father and Ron back into battle. Now was not the time for having his mind elsewhere.

***********************************************************

(Another A/N: Reviewing is good for the author’s soul! :0)

37. Chapter 37: All Day Permanent Red: Part Three

Chapter 37: All Day Permanent Red: Part 3

Tears, Idle Tears, by Lord Alfred Tennyson

“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

Tears from the depth of some divine despair

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy autumn-fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,

That brings our friends up from the underworld,

Sad as the last which reddens over one

That sinks with all we love below the verge;

So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns

The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds

To dying ears, when unto dying eyes

The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;

So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.”

On the inside of Dumbledore’s magical enclosure he and Voldemort moved in a menacing circle around one another, both pairs of eyes glaring at the other, blood red on bright blue, watching for some faltering movement; waiting for a weakness to present itself…

On the outside the battle raged on; an unrelenting, seemingly never-ending day of permanent red.

“You have weakened over the years… I can feel it,” Voldemort growled, his wand pointing at various parts of Dumbledore, apparently deciding which might be the most debilitating to attack. “However, I have become much more powerful since we last met. You will die today.”

Dumbledore regarded him with a hint of triumph. “Then I shall die knowing I have completed all I have set out to do... Can you say the same?”

Immediately enraged, Voldemort let out a high-pitched, feral scream and stepped forward, throwing his wand arm out and steadying himself for the powerful wave of magic he was about to let loose.

“EVASTO!”

A thick beam of molten red light zoomed out of his wand straight toward Dumbledore who, at the last possible moment, twisted, whipped his cloak around himself, and with a decidedly loud POP, vanished. The curse struck one wall of blue barrier, reflected off it, and for a moment the enclosure was brilliantly lit with a thousand shard-beams of broken red light.

Voldemort blinked away the blinding brightness, narrowed his eyes in aggravation and whirled about too late to see the Headmaster behind him, ready to strike.

“Vinculum!”

Magical golden cords suddenly flew out from the end of Dumbledore’s wand and whizzed forward, writhing in mid-air like live snakes until, upon impact with the dark lord, they whipped tightly about his entire body.

However, Voldemort was only momentarily overcome.

He immediately began muttering something under his breath and, only moments later, his entire body began to glow a bright fiery red. The golden ropes binding him began to smoke and finally to burn away, the ash falling heavily to the ground like golden glittery, cord shaped piles about his feet.

Again he raised his wand and screamed a powerful curse, only to have it deflected with a bit of difficulty by Dumbledore to the ground. It blasted a pumpkin-sized, smoking hole in the earth.

Both raised their wands at the same time and began trading curses again, narrow misses compounding with deft escapes, much to the horror of someone who was watching them duel, and trying desperately to think of a way into the enclosure with every spare second he was allowed.

Harry’s sword crashed together and held with one the one across from him, wielded by whom he now recognized (having seen him in the Daily Prophet) to be Augustus Rookwood.

Rookwood’s crooked teeth were bared in a ferocious snarl as he used his larger muscles to push with all his might against Harry’s own sword, the two blades scraping and grinding together, and mere inches from both of their faces.

Harry was on the point of complete exhaustion. Physically fit though he was, he had fought so many battles this day that he was now almost completely relying on the rush of adrenaline to keep him going.

His arms were shaking so hard from the exertion, he felt they might certainly give way at any second. Sweat poured down his forehead and cheeks, the salty drops tickling his skin as they slid down his face, and making superficial scratches on his face and neck burn. His clothes were saturated with the same stuff mixed with blood seeping from the many cuts and stabs he had taken; most shallow, but others bordering on the dangerously deep. His biceps felt as if they were on fire from the strain of blade on blade as he tried to force his opponent back; the overused muscles in his legs twitching spasmodically as he dug his feet in the dry earth and struggled to push himself forward to cause the other to stumble.

And as suddenly as the battle between the two had begun, it ended. Just when Harry felt he would not be able to hold up any longer, a sudden shout of the Petrificus curse nearby caused Rookwood to seize up and fall backward to the ground stiff as a board, with eyes that were permanently surprised.

Harry stumbled forward with the sudden lack of force to push against and looked up, lowering his sword. Behind where Rookwood had just stood, he saw Ron lower his wand.

“Not as permanent as an Unforgivable, but it has it’s charms I reckon,” breathed Ron heavily as he walked over.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward to brace himself on his knees, struggling to regain some of the breath he had lost.

“Thanks mate,” he panted. “Damn near thought I'd lost that one.”

Ron nodded open-mouthed, keeping his eyes peeled for any enemy who might decide to target them, while simultaneously looking Harry over.

“You look bad.”

“I feel worse,” said Harry, swiping at his brow. “Where’s Hermi…”

“She’s fine,” Ron answered at once, tonguing a split area on his lip. “She and Madame Pomfrey are well out of it now, I think; they’re on the outside tending to all the wounded. Lav and Gin are there too... Ginny’s gone spare, though. Can't seem to find Malfoy. Last time we saw him was right after he killed Lucius. She keeps trying to move out to look for him but I've made her sit with Mum and the rest of the wounded for safe keeping. She’s in no shape to fight anymore, herself…”

But Harry had not heard anything past learning Hermione was safe. He had moved forward a couple of steps, a bolt of fear blazing through his chest as his gaze once again settled on Dumbledore and Voldemort.

Only seconds into watching the battle waging within the forcefield it had become apparent that Dumbledore, the wizard Harry had always imagined incapable of failure, might actually be beginning to weaken. True, Voldemort also seemed tired and a bit less on his mark than he had been before but, Harry realized with a frown, Dumbledore looked a bit worse. He was still on his feet and managing difficult spells, but the ones he was throwing seemed almost mediocre in strength. He seemed constantly on the defense and rarely attacking, and to Harry, it was a spectacle he had thought never to witness.

He’d known Dumbledore had grown very old but his age had never before seemed to undermine his physical abilities or the magic or the possessed. Now, it almost seemed as if everything was catching up with him. His impossibly lined face was set with determination, but oddly, Harry thought he could see a bit of... quiet resignation?... in the expression as well.

No... it couldn't be...

Perhaps Dumbledore’s weakness was simply due to the fact he was having to concentrate much of his magic on keeping up the barrier that was separating Harry from his enemy.

Or maybe, just maybe, Harry thought with a sudden, sickening lurch of his stomach... the Headmaster had decided this was to be his last day on earth, and had made a peace with himself about it.

Upon studying Dumbledore one last time, Harry came to the awful conclusion that was exactly what he had done.

...Son of a bitch...

Muffling a furious roar, he reared back a fist and pounded it into the magical wall in front of him, wishing himself inside, fiercely willing the glowing sapphire strength to give way...

And for one brief, incredible moment, Harry's fist sunk through the wall in front of him as if it were made out of some sort of neon, gelatinous material. Instantly, tiny electric blue lightning bolts began surging through the shield toward his hand as if the barrier itself recognised an intruder and was attempting an attack.

He was so surprised at being able to move even an inch through the shield that it took a moment for his brain to register the sudden flood of pain that ran all along his nervous system.

Quickly he yanked back his fist, the hand coming free with an odd sucking noise and held it up in front of his face, noting with sudden clarity that there was no permanent damage done.

“Harry, have you heard a bloody word I've said?” said Ron frowning, oblivious to what had just happened.

For a moment, Harry was unable to answer him. He stared past his own hand and back at Voldemort and Dumbledore as they fought, their forms appearing blue-tinged and wavery through the shield.

Voldemort launched some sort of lightning-fast severing charm on Dumbledore, one which the Headmaster was not able to fully defend himself against, and which ended up leaving a deep, curving gash from one side of his chest up to the top of his clavicle. Dumbledore grasped at the wound and immediately launched a counter-attack; one which hit it’s mark and blasted Voldemort backward a few feet, but did little to slow him down.

It was then Harry began to realise almost stupidly that all the power, all the strength he and everyone else had always known Dumbledore to have was purely because of his magic, and could never cover the fact he had simply grown very old and frail in body. Perhaps it was his reflexes, and not his magic that was beginning to wane, or maybe it was the fact he was having to use too much of his energy in keeping the barrier up that separated Harry from his enemy. In any case, fact was he seemed to be only just keeping himself in the game...

A dark, shrewd grin suddenly broke out on Voldemort’s face as he regained his footing. The blackened, uneven teeth proved a sharp contrast to the snow white of his sunken skeletal face; his blazing red, snake-like eyes now narrowed with a gross realisation...

A nauseating horror begin to swirl about in Harry's stomach.

Dumbledore was weakening with every passing moment- and Voldemort knew it.

“He’s bleeding!” Ron exclaimed, openly gaping at the Headmaster from behind Harry. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Dumbledore wounded…”

“I reckon no one’s ever got him weak enough to do it before,” said Harry quietly, not bothering to turn and face Ron as he spoke.

An expression of hard resolve began to crawl over Harry's face. As he thought back to the extraordinary thing he had been able to do only moments ago, it took him only a matter of seconds to make his mind up.

Merlin, let it weaken... let it let me through... Let me be strong enough...

Harry whispered aloud, unaware he had done so. “...Got to get in there...”

“And how’ll we go about doing that?” Ron snorted sceptically, gesturing at the forcefield. “Damn shield's about two feet thick and holding strong. I don’t suppose it’s easy for Dumbledore to keep this thing up and duel at the same time but somehow he’s doing it, isn’t he?”

I've got to do it... At least I know maybe I can break through...

Harry tensed, instinctively knowing Ron's reaction, and prepared himself. “We aren’t going to, Ron. I am.”

Ron frowned at his statement, but the impact of Harry's words and what he was planning to do dawned on him too late.

Let it break... Let it let me through... I WILL GET THROUGH...

Harry mentally steeled himself against the pain headed his way, gripped his sword tightly, and without a backwards glance at Ron suddenly launched himself forward, forcing his mind with an iron-hard will to focus on what he wanted to do.

“What the fu…” Harry heard Ron begin angrily as he slammed into the barrier with his left side and began to sink through, his face screwed up in concentration, and those same thin water-blue lightning rods suddenly stinging at every part of his body.

All sight and sound of battle utterly disappeared for the few brief moments he moved himself through the thick wall; inside his ears roaring with the odd sound of having been plunged underwater. It was the strangest sensation he had ever felt. The small electric bolts jolted painfully along his body with every push forward he made, agonising warning zaps rocketing through his fingers, his toes, his eyes, his chest, his arms and legs; the sharp pain spasming along his entire nervous system. It was like trying to push through some sort of wet, thickly-charged protoplasm, though he had never before encountered anything like it with which to compare...

Finally, after what seemed like minutes, when in reality it had to have been only seconds, he squelched through to the other side and crumpled to the ground, his body oddly dry although it had felt drenched with the blue stuff, and still twitching with the odd pang shooting through his nerves.

Thankfully, neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore seemed to have noticed him break through yet, and continued blasting at each other.

In a few seconds Harry was able to stand on jelly-like legs, and he turned back round to see Ron who was now furiously attempting the same thing he had just done. He was ramming and pounding against the blue barrier which had somehow, unexpectedly, become solid once more.

“Harry!” He screamed furiously, and to Harry's extreme displeasure, he saw Hermione some ways behind Ron flying towards them, her expression one of complete horror.

“What the bloody hell have you done!?” Ron yelled furiously from behind the wall, the exposed skin from his fist down to his elbow showing an angry red from the pounding he had given it. He gave the wall another hard punch but it held solid, the muffled zapping sound from the electrical charge on the other side apparent even to Harry, himself.

Behind Ron, Harry saw a huge, filthy troll suddenly bear down on him, rearing back with its giant tree limb sized club to take a deadly swipe.

“Ron, watch yourself!”

Ron whipped about with wand instantly outstretched and screamed out a defensive curse so powerful it sent the large creature rocketing backward into two Death Eaters behind him, crushing them under his weight.

He whirled back round to Harry instantly and speared him with a hard, furious gaze.

“Listen mate, I can see it hasn’t dawned on you yet you NEED Hermione and me to...”

“You’re needed out there,” said Harry forcefully. “Help Dad and Sirius mop up and keep an eye on Hermione. It’s me that’s got to kill him, Ron…”

“And you need US backing you up to DO it!” Ron exclaimed furiously, his face flushing red to the tips of his ears and both hands clenched tightly into fists. Harry could tell Ron wished he was cursing him right about then.

“For the love of bloody Godric Harry, you’d better get it through your thick skull RIGHT NOW we’re NOT letting you fight him alone!”

“I knew I could get through the shield, Ron!” Harry countered. “I've got to get to Dumbledore, he doesn't have much time left and I won't waste it standing here arguing with you!”

“Damn right you won't!” Ron yelled again, eyeing the large blue wall in front of him. “You're going to use it to get us in there with you... NO DON'T ARGUE, DAMMIT! You got in, Hermione and I can too! Find some way, just... just help me get it down!”

Harry watched Hermione for a fraction of a second frantically wending her way between duels and battles to get to them, her long, curly brown hair flying out behind her, her wand casting curses and jinxes and blasting wizards and witches out of her way as she ran.

She was very close to reaching them, so Harry took the few moments before she got there to stab Ron with a very serious look.

“Ron, I don't want Hermione in here. I couldn’t bear to lose either of you…gods, if I can spare you two I will...” Ron immediately began to protest but Harry shouted out above him. “NO dammit, listen to me...!”

“No Harry, you listen to me!” A flushed Hermione panted furiously as she stopped short beside Ron, her hair a mess of tangled curls, and her clothes ripped, dirty and covered in the blood of those she had been desperately trying to help. “Don't you do this to us, you hear me!? Don't you even dare!”

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and opened them to look down into Hermione’s face. For the first time he could remember, he wished she was not there.

“Love, I've got to go to him. I'm sorry... If something should happen, I wan... I just... I want you to take care of each other. Promise me...”

“No, shut up... shut...UP, Harry! The way you feel about losing Ron and I is the same bloody way we feel about losing you!” said Hermione, her large, thickly lashed brown eyes brimming with furious tears. “You left me once to fight him alone. You won’t be doing it again.”

Harry stared down at her, his jaw working and his eyes boring into hers, desperate for her to understand. For one brief moment he raised a hand as if to stroke her cheek, only to drop it moments later upon remembering almost stupidly that the wall was separating them.

He glanced at Ron and saw the same angry, fierce determination on his face as he fingered his wand.

Knowing they might both hate him for it, he steeled himself and shook his head.

“I won't help you to die. No. I won't do it.”

He began to back away.

“Harry, please! If you made it in there I know you can find a way to let down that barrier!” Hermione cried out desperately, fear zinging through her chest as she watched him through the wall, his tall, blue, wavering image moving away from them. “We can't get in there but somehow you CAN! We've got to help you fight him, you know we do...”

“No I don't!” Harry exclaimed, his face reddening. “I'm supposed to kill him- not you, not Ron, ME! That's what I know! That's what I'm going to do!”

Ron gritted his teeth in fury and began screaming at him. “AND WHAT ABOUT THE PROPHECY, HARRY!? Are you just going to FORGET all Trelawney's said abou...”

“FUCK THE PROPHECY! Fuck ALL of it!” Harry bellowed wildly in return, all of the frustration and fear that had been simmering just below the surface suddenly boiling over. He swung his sword up parallel to his side and eyed them both. “For once, I'm going to protect the people I love instead of being the reason they die early! For once, I'M going to decide my own bloody future!”

“You don't think Ron and I have the same rights!?” Hermione shouted back, furious tears streaming down her face. “And what about OUR future, Harry!? Yours and mine... what about that!?”

Harry opened his mouth to retort but suddenly Ron and Hermione, both struck momentarily dumb and looking past him, began to completely drain of colour.

His heart hammering at the looks on their faces, Harry suddenly whipped around.

Dumbledore and Voldemort had paused their battle and had turned about to discover finally that Harry had joined them.

Voldemort began to grin.

Hermione screamed.

Dumbledore, dropping both of his arms to his sides, suddenly looked impossibly old and worn.

This was it.

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione with one last, longing look at both them- one that spoke volumes of goodbyes. Then he turned his back on them, tuned out their cries, gripped the handle of Godric Gryffindor's sword and began to approach the two tall wizards in front of him.

Dumbledore, who stood between Harry and his target, looked at once emotionally defeated.

“Ah, Harry... I had hoped you would not find a way through my shield.” He frowned, not in disbelief or confusion about what Harry had done, but in sadness. “How I wish you had not.”

“I had to get in,” said Harry, his sword up and at eye level. “You knew I had to.”

A fresh surge of adrenaline mixed with powerful magic coursed through him, supplying him with a much needed new strength. An electrical blue hum of energy wavered like a sapphire cloud about his body as he stepped cautiously forward. He did not even look at Dumbledore but stared past him at the ominously still form of Voldemort, who still bore that maddening grin plastered on his face.

“I have failed, then.”

Harry heard the words almost as clearly as if Dumbledore had spoken them loud and clear, though it had been a mere whisper.

Harry glanced at him and merely shook his head. “No. Nothing is done, yet.”

“Oh, it will be,” said Voldemort with a touch of something indecipherable in his voice.

Harry fixed him with a hard gaze. “Yes, it will.”

Dumbledore stood stock still eyeing Voldemort, the cogs in his mind turning with rapid clarity and complete force of will. Whatever he had to sacrifice, he would... not only to help Harry, but for the good of the entire wizarding world. One life did not matter when compared with the loss of thousands later on should the dark lord win this battle and escape... Whatever had to be done would be done...

No sooner had the thoughts formed in the Headmaster's mind than Voldemort put his promises to the test.

Before Harry even realised what was happening, Voldemort thrust out his sword, struck it hard with his wand, and magically sent it rocketing across the distance separating them.

When Harry thought back on it later, he remembered everything about those next brief moments in such great detail that it seemed almost implausible that he had barely processed any fear or thought of reaction, though he finally realised he hadn't even had time to think.

Somehow in the next couple of seconds his mind comprehended the blinding flash of sunlight as it glinted off the flat sides of the heavy, travelling blade; the sharp, murderous tip as it came hurtling toward his chest at an almost impossible speed; the silver handle glittering with emeralds as it turned round and round in flight...

There was no time for speaking a counter-curse; there was barely time for a breath. The blade was coming at him too fast to form coherent thought or even to move out of its path...

...And a deep, booming voice that had always commanded the utmost authority and fearful awe suddenly bellowed out into the absolute silence of those few seconds.

“NO!”

Dumbledore then did the last most incredible, and most self-sacrificing thing he could ever, and would ever do. In a final, emotional burst of incredible magical speed and complete lack of concern for himself, he moved lightning fast to throw himself in front of Harry, cast his arms out wide before Harry could stop him and took the blade full on.

Harry had time to blink only once before he watched the sword punch through Dumbledore's lower chest to come out bloody through his back, had time to yell only once as the loud grunt the Headmaster gave must have indicated the hilt had hit home and could move no further; had time to take only one half-step forward as the Headmaster crumpled to the ground before he could even reach him...

No sooner had Dumbledore's body fallen and lain still than Voldemort raised his wand and summoned the sword back to him. Stunned and temporarily dazed, Harry watched the bloody blade pull out of the Headmaster's body and soar back, hilt first, toward its owners outstretched hand.

And part of Trelawny's prediction suddenly sped through Harry's thoughts with the speed and intensity of a freight train.

“Lest one whose worth is not yet known, should yield his life for his own...”

Dumbledore had just given his life for Harry's... he had 'yielded' his life for another who belonged to his family- one of his 'own'.

Harry began shaking his head, his eyes filling with tears.

Nonononononono... it's not right, he shouldn't have... he can't be dead... not like this... not for me...

Dumbledore stared up at him for a few seconds more with eyes full of unspoken things, before blackness took him over.

Up above it all, the blue hue of the early summer sky, (though the temperature in the forest continued to feel almost winter-like) began to morph into a light grey, the fluffy white clouds beginning to swell and grow heavy. The cold, wispy breeze that had been a constant all morning throughout the battle began to blow a bit harder; the gusting a bit ominous as it whistled mournfully through the trees, picking up dead leaves and whirling them about in erratic dances...

Although technically the sword had not hit its mark, (or had it?) Voldemort looked up toward the sky and smiled even wider before he focussed again on Harry, who stood next to Dumbledore's body.

“And then there were two, Potter.”

Harry needed only a moment to comprehend what he meant. There were only two heirs left to Slytherin now; Voldemort and himself.

************************************************

“Professor Dumbledore! Oh my god, no...!” Hermione screamed out upon seeing the Headmaster fall, frantically slamming a hand against the shield before drawing it back again with a hiss of pain. The change in the sky above instantly brought back to mind the dream she, Harry and Ron had shared this summer. Though she knew Voldemort had only planted it in their minds as a way to try unnerving them, it would appear he had been right about certain things that might happen should the final battle begin going his way.

Oh gods this can't be happening... Harry...

“Son of a BITCH!” Ron roared aloud, punching the forcefield in frustration. “I can't even make a bloody dent in this thing! Harry wades through as if it's some giant bloody wall of goo, and I can't even poke a damn finger through!”

Hermione chewed anxiously on her knuckles; her face a picture of intense concentration as she willed herself to come up with the answer.

Think... think, Hermione! Surely you've seen some sort of counter-spell for magical barriers in one of the hundreds of books you've read! Please, oh Godric please let me think of something...

“Pounding at it certainly won't be what breaks it,” said a quavery, ethereal voice from behind Ron, and it startled him so completely that he whirled about mid-strike at the wall with his wand aimed.

“It should have fallen wh..when Dumbledore did. He's obviously ensured it would hold up even if he... if he did not.”

Professor Trelawny stood before Ron and Hermione looking completely dishevelled. Her outfit, minus its usual drapes of shawls and many bangles and beads was mucky with dirt and wand ash; bloodied holes in the fabric torn round where she must have sustained wounds; her thick-lensed glasses askew and cracked where they sat on her nose. Somehow though, although she continued shaking involuntarily at what she had just witnessed, she was able to maintain her sense of the otherworldly.

Ron gritted his teeth and lowered his wand, making a disgusted noise. “We don't have time for this...”

“You'll make time if you want to get through that wall,” she interrupted him harshly, and her voice, for only the second time Ron could remember, suddenly lost it's mystic quality and sounded natural.

Hermione seized the Professor's arm and looked square into her bespectacled, magnified eyes. “If you know of a way to break through, tell us.”

Trelawny pursed her lips as she stared through to the fallen Headmaster, her body trembling slightly. “Dumbledore's an exceptionally powerful wizard. I suspect there's some reason, some extra power Potter has that enabled him to break through, but I assure you neither I nor anyone else so far has been able to do it.”

Frowning at her words, Hermione focussed her attention further down at other areas of the barrier and began to realise she and Ron weren't the only ones desperately trying to break the spell.

Several Aurors and Ministry officials from Dumbledore's army dotted round the thing, taking wand shots at it and muttering to themselves. Most noticeably, a haggard Sirius, Lupin/James, and Hagrid were firing curses at it one right after the other, sometimes all together; blue, green, and red jets of light flying from their wands at the wall, and bouncing back off it just as easily.

Sirius shouted frustrated obscenities as they stared in at Harry, Voldemort and Dumbledore; frantic looks of fear on their faces. Hagrid pounded at the wall as if brute strength might somehow be its undoing, paying no attention to the many painful electric stings he was receiving. For his own part, and completely pale with worry, James looked ready to kill.

“Do you have a way to do it, or not!?” Ron shouted, focussing his attention back on Trelawny. “Otherwise stop wasting our time...”

“It's going to take quite a large crowd,” she answered, moving forward to stare past Ron. “It's a very powerful bit of magic... Anyway, Potter looks as if he's adding his own to it. There's no one or two of us who will do it alone.”

Ron and Hermione instantly focussed on Harry and saw that somehow he had conjured the presence of mind to raise a hand toward the barrier and use his own magic to further fortify it. Hermione stared in at him and, as if he sensed her eyes on him, he deftly avoided her gaze and turned back round to his enemy. Because she knew him so well, she knew even now the engulfing, all-consuming grief he must be feeling upon having just watched yet another someone else he cared for so greatly fall to his death. She knew now he must want more than ever to keep anyone else from getting in there to help him, no matter what the consequence, and it was this last thought more than anything that made her chest throb with fear.

“What'd you mean 'a large crowd' !?” she said very quickly, forcing her gaze away from Harry and gripping her wand tight. “Wait... wait, you mean an incantation!? Something everyone focuses on together, don't you? I don't remember reading about an 'incantation' to break powerful spells... why don't I know about it!?”

“I don't suppose you would no matter how often you've visited the library,” Trelawny said with a distinct sniff. “It's not the sort of powerful spell-degrading type magic Dumbledore would want his students trying to sabotage each other with, is it? Furthermore, the root of 'incantation' can be found in divination, and those wizards unlike myself who are not gifted with extrasensory powers have always perceived the art to be unreliab...”

“We only care if it works!” Ron interrupted angrily.

“Of course it works!” Trelawny answered with an indignant glare. “I've used many an incantation to...”

Hermione cut her off. “But if we need the others to do it and they're still fighting...”

“My dear girl,” said the professor, waving her hand about and turning round to look behind her. “Take a look past what's right in front of you. Our part of the war has almost ended.”

Ron and Hermione focussed past Trelawny, their jaws dropping open at their own ignorance. They had been so intent on what had been happening inside Dumbledore's barrier that the war still waging on behind them had become a blurred second place. In a very few brief moments they managed to take in a lifetime of horror and victory.

The entire clearing circling them was littered with broken bodies, most dead, though some others were still crawling about and wounded. Moans and cries of pain still split the otherwise calm morning. There were loads more bodies sprawled here and there and over one another than before, covered in wounds and wand ash.

A group of around five Dementors were surrounded by what looked like some sort of wavering red imprisonment shield. It looked to be the same type of imperturbable magic Dumbledore had conjured to keep himself and Voldemort confined together.

Aurors and Order members, some wounded and some as yet still unscathed were dragging those they had subdued to one side and making sure they were properly disarmed before leading them over to what looked like a makeshift, temporary prison camp. Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a number of Ministry officials had wands aimed at a large group of disarmed Death Eaters on the ground who had been instructed to lie face down with arms stretched forward. Bane the Centaur, surrounded with two others of his kind sat with his long, muscular horses legs folded under him and large hands spread flat on the ground before him. The remaining goblins and one large troll were also nearby, their bodies laid out flat and unmoving.

Those students and Professors from Hogwarts who had made it out alive were, for the most part, slumped in various stages of exhausted stupefaction in a large circle near the edge of the clearing. Each face seemed stricken with dazed horror, most eyes fixed on the battle going on inside Dumbledore's shield, and at the fallen Headmaster.

Madame Pomfrey was tending to the wounded along with whoever else she had found to help her who possessed even marginal healing skills. Hermione felt a brief pang of guilt for not helping as well, but it passed upon glancing fearfully back at Harry and Voldemort. Her place now, she reasoned with herself, was with Harry and Ron.

The ground was muddy with blood; bodies, severed limbs, and even, to Hermione's horror, a troll's head lay amongst what she could see of the gruesome battlefield. However, it was clear one side had won out over the other. And it had been theirs.

“We must gather everyone together quickly,” said Trelawny, snapping them back to the present.

Hermione glanced breathlessly up at Ron and then back at the Professor. “Circle about the shield?”

Trelawny nodded. “It'll take a great amount of combined magic for this one. We'll have to work together. It's an ancient incantation...”

But Ron and Hermione had already taken off, headed toward the one large group of witches and wizards who seemed to have nothing to do at the present moment: the combined inhabitants of Hogwarts.

*************************************************

Up above the sky continued darkening, slowly changing from a light grey to a dark ashy colour; the sun now almost completely shadowed over with dark, black-lined clouds. The wind changed too, no longer the gusty breeze that danced the leaves, but now a half-hearted gale that promised an approaching storm...

Harry stared down at Dumbledore's still form, and watched as darkness finally ate the last bit of sun-lit ground, leaving the whole forest in an early twilight-like state. He turned his downward tilted gaze just slightly from the Headmaster to glance back up again at the dark lord.

However, instead of the fear and numb despair Voldemort might have expected, Harry's eyes began to glow and crackle bright electric green with a hard rage. The cold wind whipped his black Gryffindor's robes about his legs; his hair, already untidy, now tousled about his head, making him look even more wild. The hand wrapped about the hilt of Godric Gryffindor's sword gripped it so tight his fingers turned white. The sapphire cloud that had disappeared upon watching the Headmaster take what had been meant for him suddenly snapped to life with intensity, the power radiating off of him in such dense, heavy waves that Voldemort himself, some distance back, could feel the heat brush against his face.

Harry began to stalk toward him.

Voldemort threw out his wand.

“Debilito!”

The curse barely missed him and hurtled toward one part of the magical barrier. The red energy slammed into the blue wall and instantly splintered wide all along it into what looked like a massive purple-glowing cobweb.

Unfazed, Harry continued forward at a faster pace.

“Difflare!”

Again the magic passed him by as if it had been nothing more than another gust of wind and blasted a hole into the ground behind him.

“Acrimordeo!”

Another miss. Voldemort stiffened and screamed aloud with rage.

“CRUCIO!”

Dodging it by mere inches, Harry began running toward him and, with a hoarse, anguished scream, reared back, swung his sword upward and brought it back down on Voldemort's own with a hard, resounding CRASH, his whole being intent on causing as much bloodshed and physical pain as possible.

Voldemort shoved backward with all his might and managed to push Harry back just enough to begin meeting him blow for punishing blow.

Pain radiated from Harry's arms downward as he reacted to every lunge and parry with maddening speed, his body jarred and aching with the vibrations the blades made each time they met; the clanging sound of metal on metal ringing in his ears. He ducked a swipe to his head and simultaneously tried an upper sweeping cut to Voldemort's torso, missing by centimetres as the dark lord jumped backward. An instant later, he began fighting off a furious rapid succession of retaliating slices and cuts. Voldemort stabbed at him again and he managed to miss it with a violent twist of his body, kicking out simultaneously and catching him in the abdomen. Voldemort doubled over, and Harry was given a momentary breather. He began to realise his reflexes were growing sluggish and his energy, rapidly evaporating. His chest rose and fell heavily as he gasped for air, his clothes sweat-soaked and sticky with blood that had begun oozing again from barely healed stabs.

For a moment, and unable to help himself, he let his eyes travel to the old wizard who lay bleeding and impaled on the ground some few yards from them. The sword had not gone through his heart but had punctured the other side of his chest, so there was the very faint possibility he was still alive, though Harry almost dared not hope. If he were still alive he was now bleeding to death on the forest floor with no one to help him. However, Harry knew he dared not try to lower the shield. He couldn't risk Voldemort's escape or those he might try to harm if he got out. The duel really was down now to only the two of them...

Suddenly Voldemort came at him again with a mix of hard slashes and swings and finally, managed to shove Harry backward far enough that he was able to raise his wand in a wide slashing motion.

“Abscindo!”

“Shit! Dammit...”

Harry swiped the back of his hand against his stinging cheek and brought it back down, absently noting a bright red smear of blood and immediately angry with himself for losing focus. The powerful decapitating curse had narrowly missed doing its job, and had brushed by him so closely it left a stinging cut lashed across his cheek.

Instantly he forced all distracting thoughts from his mind and moved his emotions into check. He lowered his sword and raised his other hand.

“Aspello!”

Voldemort threw out his wand, apparently intent on deflecting the curse but had not banked on the amount of angry power thrown behind it. The driving spell hit him full on, blasting him backward off his feet, tearing the sword and wand from his hands, and slamming his entire body into the shield some five yards behind him. Instantly the forcefield began to zap him with painful energy bolts, the crackling sizzling energy loud and echoing as it sounded throughout the barrier.

However, Harry was almost unprepared for how quickly Voldemort recovered. He had run closer, and was barely a few feet from him when Voldemort wrenched himself away from the wall, his blackened teeth bared in a feral snarl as his chest heaved in and out, and his red eyes narrowed to slits.

Harry stopped short.

“Come now, Potter... Is that really the best you can do?” Voldemort taunted furiously as he summoned his wand. Harry raised his hand to counter the summons but was not fast enough. It soared so quickly into the dark lord's outstretched hand that it appeared blurred mid-flight.

Voldemort smiled as he fingered the wooden stick. “As you can see, you'll have to try harder than that.”

Harry threw up his hand. “Effundomolior!”

“Recidivus!”

Voldemort caught the whole of the curse with his wand and hurled it back at Harry who was almost unprepared for the quick return. At the last moment he swung his sword up to deflect it, the red energy slamming into the sword full force with a loud reverberating PING and throwing him backward to the ground; the blade pushing toward his face and vibrating so hard that, as Harry gripped it as tightly as he could, it was all he could do to hang on to it.

In the moments it took for the painful jolting of magic to stop flaring along his system, his sword having acted almost as a conductor for the lightning-like red energy, Voldemort bore down on him.

Harry, exhausted and in pain, had made it almost to his knees as the tall black-robed form swung his own sword up and over his head and back downward, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.

Salazar Slytherin's blade crashed down hard on Godric Gryffindor's, the resultant force behind it bringing Harry's own quivering sword centimetres from his nose. His biceps, which had been aching before, now positively screamed in pain as he forced his sword upward with all his might under the crushing weight, his mind boggling at the strength dark magic gave the skeletal man above him. Harry knew he dared not try lifting one hand from the hilt of his sword to try cursing; moment he did, he knew he would be cut in two.

Voldemort gripped tightly about the hilt of his sword and pressed down on the blade, his foul breath puffing closely to Harry's face; his eyes wide and glowing with what looked like hellish red flames...

“You feel it, don't you Harry?” he wheezed happily. “My powers are returning to me... With each step toward victory I take the stronger and stronger they become...”

Voldemort chanced a quick glance upward without letting up on his sword's pressure and then looked back down into his enemy's face.

Shaking from exertion, Harry looked up as well and felt his stomach flip over as he saw the dark clouds above him mixing with one another, much as if they were being stirred by a giant, invisible spoon. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his face to drip off his chin as his eyes swept the horizon. Here and there, large flashes of unearthly red lightning punctured the very beginnings of the forming tornado.

Gods, so tired... It would be so easy just to let go...

Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione... My family.

Hold on... I've got to hold on...

He pushed even harder against the sword Voldemort was holding, the blades grinding and scraping against one another with jarring metallic sounds. Every fibre of his being was painfully aware that if he lost this battle with Voldemort the dark lord would go on to kill Ron and Hermione, and after, have ultimately have gained enough power that it would be near impossible to stop him again no matter how many Aurors and ministry officials waited outside the barrier.

Voldemort gave another glance upward.

“The vortex has begun to form...” he continued as he strained against Harry's blade. “It is the way I thought it would be... I'm so close... Too bad you've ensured the other two cannot come to your aid; in doing so you've given me the upper hand. It was a foolish thing to do, was it not?”

Harry shook his head against Voldemort's words, dirt from the ground mixing with sweat in his hair.

No, it wasn't foolish. I love them.

He would not give in to the bastard... he would NOT...

“You have always been foolish, haven't you Potter? Foolish in life and with those you claim to love,” Voldemort continued, sneering hatefully at the word. “It was you who made yourself known to them; who let them close to you in the first place, knowing the end result. And what have you promised them in return... an early grave? How very gracious of you.”

Harry muffled an anguished sound and shoved upward even harder, fear powering limbs that might have long ago given up.

Voldemort put the whole of his body weight behind his blade, practically laying on the sword.

“In a few moments it will not matter which side has won. When I have killed you, the Weasel and your mudblood whore will surely try to avenge you. When you, and finally they are disposed of, every bit of the magic I lost sixteen years ago will be returned. This small, pitiful victory will be meaningless in the face of what I will bring...”

************************************

The dark grey sky above continued to churn restlessly in a large swirl of sinister looking clouds; loud, resounding CRACKS and growling thunder following each stab of ruby red lightning that punctured its dark shroud. The wind was a mad gale, whistling hard through the dead limbs above, bowing and breaking dried out shrubs, and whipping tent flaps, robes, hair and every other thing about in a mad frenzy. The top of a large funnel was now swirling inward and down to form a long, thin body, the curvy, cylindrical shape slowly dancing downward to meet the ground...

“Hurry!” Hermione screamed aloud, urging the rest of Hogwarts on as they sprinted behind her toward the large blue barrier.

She could see Harry on the ground underneath Voldemort's sword, his wavery blue image pushing upward with all of his might against the blade bent on cutting him in two. A whine of panic rang in her head and, with an almost Herculean effort, she pushed it away.

Trelawny and Ron were directly behind her, and upon reaching the shield all three began shoving students and teachers alike toward the edges of the magical wall, forcing them to circle round it.

“Sybil, what in Godric's name do you plan to...” began a breathless Professor McGonnagol beside Trelawny.

“Just you leave it to me,” Trelawny replied tartly. “I know you've never quite believed in Divination or any art associated with it, Minerva, but just this once I'm asking you to trust me...”

Beside McGonnagol, James raised his voice.

“Putting all differences aside Sybil; whatever you can do to drop this shield, DO it. My son won't last much longer under that.”

Trelawny gave him a curt nod and eyed the circle of wizards and witches who now completely surrounded the large shield.

“WANDS OUT!” she bellowed above the sound of the cold gusting wind.

***********************************************************

Inside the barrier, the thin dancing vortex began lowering itself to hover just yards above Voldemort, the sound of it now screaming loud like an approaching train.

Harry looked far up into the eye of the tornado above him and for a moment, watched the debris-filled cylinder as it undulated above them; fat red bolts of lightning piercing it within and without.

He summoned the last bit of his strength he had and punched one of his knees hard into one of the dark lord's kidneys.

With a startled grunt Voldemort fell onto his side and Harry rolled over and away from him, his mouth open and gasping for breath and his chest heaving. Slowly, he pulled himself to his hands and knees and crawled as far away from his enemy as he could.

In a few moments Voldemort, though out of breath himself, was back on his feet. He tossed his sword to the ground in favour of his wand, and whipped about.

Harry tried to get to his feet but his strength had finally given out. With a small grunt he dropped back to his knees on the ground. One hand held him upright, his fingernails digging into the dirt. The other he managed to thrust out in front of his face, readying himself.

Voldemort smirked and yelled above the roaring wind. “Enough! It is time... PESTIS CONLABOUR!”

Harry screamed out with all his might. “RETROACTUM!”

The two curses met mid-air, blue magic on red forming a great, arced, purple-gold strand of energy in the middle.

Both Voldemort and Harry grimaced but held on with all of their might; Voldemort gripping his vibrating wand tightly, and Harry, still on his knees, now supporting one arm with the other.

Tiny orbs of glowing golden light appeared on the beam, travelling very slowly toward Voldemort.

The dark lord concentrated, mentally focussing on the beads. They changed direction, crawling at a snail's pace toward Harry's outstretched hand.

They had been in this situation before.

*********************************************************************

Around fifty or so wands pointed at the wavering blue energy in front of them.

“We must say it together!” Trelawny yelled above the din, only momentarily distracted by the awesome image of Potter and the dark lord bound together by the meeting of their magics, and on the whirling tornado above it all. “Repeat after me!”

James Potter and Sirius Black, a bit down the line nodded briefly to her, their eyes fixed on Harry and Voldemort.

“EVANESCO IS MAGUS! LICET QUIDEM EXCINDO!” (Vanish (disappear) this magic. Allow the thing to be utterly destroyed.)

It took a few moments for the words to reach all the way round the circle.

When all were finally saying it together, magic began to pour forth; a complete circle of different blinding colours all bursting forth from each wand and pounding at the blue shield.

In moments, an extraordinary thing began to happen.

The shield began wavering almost as if it were on some unstable ground, its walls rippling and bloating with magic to almost double their size. A kaleidoscope of colour now pulsated within it- greens, purples, reds, yellows, blues and every other known colour- the brightness almost blinding in its intensity. Just when it seemed the shield would not be able to hold up any more, its undulating walls suddenly BURST outward in a brilliant display of power and light, as if they had been filled to the brim with magic and could not hold any more.

Hands flew over faces and eyes to protect them, but no one was harmed. The wall had quite suddenly disintegrated into nothingness, leaving Harry and Voldemort within nothing but a circle of bodies; the hair and robes of all still tousling wildly in the harsh, screaming wind.

Neither one was able to do anything about what had just happened round them and continued to focus the golden beads pulsating along the beam back toward the other...

Madame Pomfrey rushed forward first, throwing herself down on the ground beside Dumbledore, her wand out instantly and waving over his still form. In moments she had levitated him back toward the circling crowd.

Hermione, Ron, Sirius and James immediately dashed toward Harry, all others stumbling back a bit from the sight of Voldemort and the thin tornado dancing above him, as if sure the dark lord might suddenly disengage from Harry and turn on them.

“STAY BACK!” Harry bellowed through gritted teeth above the din of the tornado, as he eyed the four charging toward him from the corner of his eye, his entire body shaking with effort. They stopped at once.

“Please!... Don't know what might happen!...”

Voldemort focussed even harder during Harry's distraction, the black robes engulfing him whipping violently about his thin frame; the white, snake-like face screwed up in concentration and his stance, hard and unyielding.

The golden beads of light passed over the high arc of the beam and began moving perilously down the line towards Harry.

“NO...”

Harry pushed harder, sweat popping out on his forehead, his breathing harsh and laboured. His thighs and knees hurt badly from the effort of keeping him upright; he felt as if they might give out at any moment. His arms and torso shook so badly he felt as if someone were pounding on him.

The golden beads slowed significantly but still crept toward him, despite his best effort to push them away...

And finally, having successfully begun pushing them back toward the dark lord, Voldemort's face suddenly broke out in a black grin.

He raised the hand that was not holding his wand toward the tornado above him, fingers claw-like and outstretched.

A thin, red bolt of lightning struck out from the eye of the tornado and connected with his arm. The light engulfed his hand, travelled down his arm, and swallowed his body in a strange glowing ruby light.

The beads on the beam of purple-gold light passed back over the high arc and moved faster than they had ever done toward Harry.

“He's drawing power from that thing!” a horrified Sirius bellowed, making a move as if to run forward. “He's going to lose, James... Got to help him...”

James grabbed his arm. “No!”

“What the bloody hell do you mean, 'no'!?” yelled Sirius. “It's your son's life on the line here...”

“Not us,” yelled James above the noise, his voice shaking with the effort of keeping calm. He pointed to Ron and Hermione who were already moving quickly toward Harry. “Them. They've got to help him, Sirius. They're three parts of a whole. I can feel it. It's got to be them.”

******************************************

Ron and Hermione rushed forward, mindless of the powerful wind that tore at their bodies and kept trying to forcefully blow them back.

Once they had come on either side of Harry they both raised their wands and screamed out the same deflection curse Harry had. A great bolt of green shot from Ron's wand, joining with Hermione's purple, and joined the blue coming from Harry's hand, the colours twisting together in the air much as they had done that night a few months prior in Harry and Hermione's common room. The purple-golden beam between Harry and Voldemort suddenly swelled to triple its size, the beads on it now growing to the size of oranges and still trying to bob toward Harry, although much much slower than before.

Screaming aloud with fury, Voldemort tried drawing even more energy from the vortex above him. The red lightning still attached to his hand thickened in power.

Hermione finally realised Harry had been yelling at them the whole time, chanting aloud.

“Be careful, be careful, be careful...”

“It's alright, mate!” Ron screamed. “We're alright...”

“I'm sorry,” Harry panted aloud, pushing hard against the large golden orbs so close to his hand. “I'm so sorry, you were right... You were both right, I just didn't wan... I just couldn't let...”

“It's alright,” Hermione said close to his ear, sweat now beading on her forehead as well. “Just hang on, Harry...”

Harry managed a nod.

It seemed like hours passed before it finally happened, though in reality, it was only minutes.

Out of instinct, Hermione and Ron moved close enough to Harry that their magics twined even more tightly with his, their arms finally getting close enough to his outstretched one that all three touched.

A hard electric zap of magic burst through all three. Their hair stood on end. Their bodies trembled. None could let go if they wanted to. Something had surrounded and combined their magics, their very beings; twisting them, for a moment, almost into one wizard. They felt giant-like in size, strength and ability. An aura of opaque, pure gold energy surrounded and weaved between them, wavering and billowing much like the sapphire blue had powered off of Harry not long ago, though much, much stronger.

The large golden orbs that had been inches from Harry's hand began moving steadily, smoothly back toward Voldemort. They did not bob or jerk as they travelled, but moved solidly, deliberately, as if it were the only way they could move.

Voldemort screamed aloud, a deep, horrific, furious scream; one that came over even the sounds of the vortex above him, and one so unearthly and monstrous that Harry felt he might never forget its sound.

Those standing, sitting or lying on the forest floor trembled, their eyes wide and unbelieving. The circle of Hogwarts that had moved back from them, moved back even further, utter fascination and complete terror lining each face.

The orbs had passed over the high arc, still moving steadily toward Voldemort's outstretched wand.

“NOOOOOO!”

He drew even harder from the tornado above him, pushed with all his might against the pulsating things inches from the tip of his wand... and failed.

The orbs absorbed into the tip, as if the wood itself were swallowing them. One... two... three...

Four great circles of gold were forced back at, and into him.

What happened next all seemed to happen in a methodical order, as if the universe had planned it out.

Voldemort screamed again, this time as if he were in pain.

The great golden-purple cord connecting him with Harry, Ron and Hermione cracked out of existence; the three crumpling to the ground from exhaustion.

The red magic pulsing around the dark lord expanded, and then disappeared from existence with a loud SNAP.

The ruby lightning that had attached to his hand drew itself back up into the vortex, which now seemed to swirl a bit slower and appear a bit clearer, if that were possible.

Voldemort dropped to his knees, his wand falling useless from his fingers, rendered powerless, now nothing more than a slim, wooden stick.

The tornado above Voldemort pulled itself upward, its thin body shortening and thickening where it moved back toward the dark clouds. It met the horizon and turned into a great dark grey swirl which continued to lighten in colour until finally, it was nothing more than a white-blue swirl of regular clouds. The stirring slowed and slowed until finally, there was no movement above but the lazy drifting of clouds.

The cold, gale of wind in the dead forest suddenly morphed into a light warm summer breeze, instantly warming those within it.

The sun burst forward from the clouds, its beams splintering through the dead branches above and resting in patches on the ground.

All was completely silent.

Harry stood shakily, catching Hermione's hand and giving it a comforting squeeze when she grabbed for him.

On his knees, Voldemort looked up at Harry some five metres in front of him. The wizard once known as the dark lord was now only a grotesquely deformed man, devoid of any magic, no more powerful than the common Muggle.

Harry began to walk toward him.

From the crowd standing round them, James suddenly ran forward and grabbed Harry's arm with cold fingers, his face dirty with dried blood and streaked suspiciously with what looked like tears.

“Son... you don't have to do it. It's over for you. You've defeated him. Let someone else do it.”

Harry shook his head. “It's got to be me.”

“Why?” James asked, staring at him.

Harry turned his head to look at Voldemort, still glaring defiantly at him, despite the fact he had lost and then turned back to his father.

“I've got to finish it.”

James eyed him for a few moments more before letting him go.

Harry approached Voldemort and finally, stood over him.

Voldemort glared up at him hatefully, with just a hint of some unknown triumph in his eyes.

“Go ahead then, Potter. Kill me. I know you want to. See if you're strong enough to use an Unforgivable.”

Harry stared down at him. So that was it. If Voldemort could not win, he would probably love for the last thing he saw on the earth to be Harry using the dark arts he hated so much.

“You would think so, wouldn't you?”

Giving a small jerk of his head, Voldemort narrowed his eyes and sneered at Harry.

“You would let me live!?” He wheezed out in his high-pitched voice. “Saviour of the wizarding world... You're nothing more than a weak little bastard, Potter, just like Albus Dumbledore was. Weak, simpering little fool...”

Harry let him talk, and moved two metres to his left, dragging something up off the ground. When he had it, he moved back over to Voldemort and held it aloft.

“Recognise this?” he said, echoing the very words Voldemort had used in his cabin when showing Harry Salazar Slytherin's sword for the first time

Voldemort stared at him, his face blank of emotion, and said nothing.

Harry drew in a deep breath, drew the sword back behind him, and swung it outward as hard as he could in a hard, whistling, downward sloping arc.

Voldemort was killed in an instant, his head neatly separated from his neck and thudding to the ground.

Harry did not waste time staring at what he had done. He dropped the sword to the ground, stumbled back to Hermione and Ron, and threw himself on his knees beside them, drawing them both into an embrace.

He opened his eyes mid-hug for one moment, seeing a large crowd begin to move toward them, his father and Sirius at the forefront. His eyes met the ground. The last thing he saw before passing out from exhaustion, was a small sprig of tender green grass poking its head out from the dry forest floor.

*****************************************************

A/N: WHEW! No, this is not the end. I would not leave the story at the end of the battle.

I hope I didn't go overboard on the symbolism thing, but I so LOVE symbolism, as in Harry using Slytherin's sword to end it all, among others. I thought it was fitting. (Did you all catch the circle of Hogwarts around the barrier? Remember Trelawny's predictions... ;0)

Don't go to hard on me for my Latin, you language buffs out there. I used an on-line Latin site, and I'm sure it's not 100% accurate. I hope you enjoyed the end of the war, (FINALLY) I can hear the lot of you saying. Please, please just leave me a few words to let me know what you thought. I thrive on them! It only takes a few moments, and I've worked really hard. Thanks! I love you all!

38. Chapter 38: O Captain, My Captain

Chapter 38: “O Captain, My Captain”

“Peace” - Rupert Brooke

“Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour,

And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,

With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,

To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,

Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary,

Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move,

And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,

And all the little emptiness of love!

Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,

Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep and mending.

Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;

Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there

But only agony, and that has ending;

And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.”

For the most part, all was silent on Hogwarts' closed ward.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Kingsley Shacklebolt and those Aurors who were not severely wounded or needed to watch over those in the infirmary wounded from Voldemort's side, had run to Dumbledore's office to floo straight to the Ministry of Magic.

Minister Umbridge's capture had been completely satisfying, Shacklebolt had confided to Harry upon arriving back some two hours later. She had been in her office, apparently so sure Voldemort and his army had the upper hand that she had posted no guard around her. They had simply walked in, caught her unaware and carted her away for incarceration until trial. Vetustus Elrod, Senior Undersecretary to Umbridge, had taken Percy Weasley's place when he resigned and was therefore acting Minister until such time as a vote could be put forward to either keep him or elect another.

The infirmary had been magically expanded to allow for much greater numbers, and healers and medi-wizards over from St. Mungo's had worked relentlessly on the wounded for two days solid; transporting those who were well enough to be moved over to the wizarding hospital for further treatment, and grouping those who were not into different sections of the infirmary according to how critical they were. Ministry law enforcement who had not been severely wounded themselves were dotted here and there amongst the curtained off cubicles, watching over those wounded who had been on the wrong side of the war.

Harry, Hermione and Ron, although not severely wounded themselves, had been ushered straight to the hospital wing along with all the other wounded by a fussy, worried Madame Pomfrey upon arriving back to the castle. She had made them promise to stay put for at least a few days while she treated them for exhaustion and severe mental and physical duress, not to mention the many, though non life-threatening wounds they had received. Pomfrey herself was treated not long after, being forced to do so by a healer from St. Mungo's after she suffered a near collapse.

Moment he had been deemed fit for release, Ron had been by his mother's, and Lavender Brown's side; Lavender nursing a broken leg, and his mother's legs crushed severely enough that Pomfrey had decided Skele-Gro was needed to repair the damage. Others belonging to the Weasley clan came and went with regularity.

Ginny sat with Draco Malfoy in his own private cubicle, transferring her time between him and her family. Malfoy had been discovered by a search and rescue party who had combed the woods for survivors after Voldemort's defeat. He had been found sitting with his back against a once dead tree covered with tender new leaves; his expression wooden and his grey eyes dulled with a sort of vacant pain. He had not spoken a word since his arrival to the infirmary but laid silently in his cot, staring blankly ahead, despite Ginny's, and occasionally even Ron's best efforts to make him do so. Oddly enough, upon his discovery in the forest and even upon his arrival to the infirmary, Sirius Black had not left his side.

Harry had resisted most treatments for mental and emotional state Madame Pomfrey had provided him, including the Pepper-Up potion she kept trying to make him drink. Hermione had been insistent to the point of tears that he take everything he was offered, pointing out to him that he had punished himself long enough for things that had always been out of his control. He relented, but later, when she was not looking, poured the rest into a nearby potted plant.

To Harry, refusing the potion had not been about punishing himself. He felt somehow as if he were not yet supposed to feel better, as if it would be a terrible injustice to Dumbledore and the many other wounded and dead who had sacrificed themselves to the fight. He did not want to forget, or use some elixir to change his emotions; nor to make it seem even to himself, that what had happened only a few days ago was trivial or easily set aside.

He could not feel better when Nymphadora Tonks lay a few cots down from them with two cracked ribs and a fractured knee from a particularly hard crack by a Goblin's staff; or while his father James, in the next curtained off area, lay weakly enduring blood regeneration potions from the many free-flowing stab wounds he had received. He could not bear the thought of feeling peaceful while overhearing Parvarti Patil and her visiting parents as she lay near other Gryffindor students crying over her dead sister, Padma, or Colin Creevey as he tried consoling his devastated parents over the announcement that Dennis had died some time ago, inbetween taking every chance he could to pop into Harry's curtained off cubicle to apologise more times for his betrayal. Harry could not imagine feeling serene while the voices and wails of countless other students, parents and teachers rang through his mind, or while the heavy sighs of Hagrid reached his ears as the half-giant sat slumped over Olympia Maxime in her magically up-sized bed, waiting for if or when she might awaken from her coma. While numerous others all around him suffered from awful wounds, or from the side effects of hexes, jinxes and curses... was he to worry about his own emotional state?

To top it all, the glazed, unblinking eyes of the dead, though not really there, continued to swim in and out of his dreams with every sleeping moment. He was not so naive and foolish that he blamed himself for their deaths, but the fact that the battlefield was the first thing he saw upon closing his eyes, made it so that he chose to sleep as little as possible.

It was half past two in the morning, and still Harry lay awake beside Hermione on her cot, watching her sleep in the darkness; feeling somehow that if he were finally to give in to sleep himself he might wake to find the battle and its victory had all been nothing but a desperate dream. He shifted to bring his arms more tightly about her and to pull the covers more securely around her, and in sleep, she rolled on her side, tangling her arms and legs with his and nuzzling her face into his neck; her breathing slow and even.

Harry sighed. Thank Merlin for small mercies.

For only the umpteenth time in a matter of hours, he smoothed her hair down and glanced over her head to the other occupant in their small curtained off cubicle, remembering how he had begged Madame Pomfrey to allow Dumbledore and Hermione within his own enclosure on the ward. Hermione he had simply needed near him. Dumbledore, he knew, was only barely clinging on to life, and if given the opportunity, should he awaken (though Madame Pomfrey had strongly suggested he might not), Harry wanted as many moments as he could with the old wizard before he slipped away for good.

Moonlight glanced over Dumbledore's already pale face, the deep wrinkles lining it throwing dark shadows over his skin. He had lost a lot of blood, Harry knew. Pomfrey especially, having got to him as soon as the shield had dropped and understanding Dumbledore's physical condition well before the battle, was surprised he had held on for this long. The stab wound he had taken should have killed him instantly, but she had begun working on him from the moment she was able to get to him in the Kavan Forest, to the moment they had all made it back to Hogwarts. Many blood regeneration potions and healing spells later the Headmaster was still alive and breathing, though only barely. Pomfrey had tearfully mused to Harry that perhaps Dumbledore still had some unfinished business to attend to. Harry could only hope that was the reason he so stubbornly clung on to life. He himself had so many unanswered questions, and beyond that, so much time to make up for with the old wizard... time he felt he was not going to have.

A very soft moan issued from somewhere near Dumbledore, and Harry's head shot up from where it had been resting near Hermione's, his gaze instantly travelling over to where the old wizard lay. That was a frown line creasing his already-lined brow, Harry was sure of it... the well-veined hand was moving, moonlight showing the long fingers curling into a fist...

Apparently Merlin was providing more than small mercies this night.

His heart pounding, Harry managed, without waking Hermione, to disentangle himself from her in record time. He stood and walked barefoot around their cot toward Dumbledore, very aware of the way his entire body shook with each step.

When he reached Dumbledore and looked down at him, he was startled to see the Headmaster's dull blue eyes already opened to painful slits and staring at the ceiling.

Dumbledore turned his head very slowly and blinking, met the younger man's gaze, his voice a feeble, dry whisper.

“Harry.”

His chest throbbing with too many conflicting emotions, Harry managed a nod and grasped Dumbledore's thin hand within his own before the old man had to reach for it.

“We've done it,” Harry found himself blurting very quickly. “It's over. We've won. Kingsley Shacklebolt and some of the other Aurors stormed the Ministry; they've taken Umbridge captive, forced her to take Veritaserum... She's told them where all the Muggle-borns were taken... they're on their way now up the mountains to get them out.”

Looking immensely relieved and almost overwhelmed with information, Dumbledore nodded and glanced slowly about the curtained cubicle as if to determine where he was. His gaze fell on Hermione in the cot beyond Harry, moonlight bathing the thick head of curly hair falling about her sleeping face in a silvery glow.

His gaze still on her, Dumbledore drew a deep breath and smiled feebly. “Then you are free.”

Harry blinked, confused at his statement. “We're all free from him.”

“You more than... more than anyone else,” Dumbledore replied, his wan face and the way his expression tightened making it obvious it was an effort to speak. “It's what I've always wanted for you.”

Harry frowned and shook his head against his words, squeezing his hand. “You don't have to talk. I just wanted you to know its all being sorted out.”

“I do... have to talk Harry,” Dumbledore replied very quietly, swallowing down a painful moan and giving Harry's hand a tight squeeze as he did so. “I want you to know... why I did it.”

Harry shook his head. “Don't. ...I know why you did it. I wish to Merlin I could go back and stop you from taking that sword, too...”

“No,” Dumbledore forced out on an exhale. “Not the sword. I want you to know why, like your father, I gave you up... Why I gave you to the Dursleys to raise.”

Harry stiffened suddenly, the surge of happiness he had felt upon seeing Dumbledore awaken, suddenly grown cold in an instant. He let go of the Headmaster's hand.

Dumbledore let his hand fall back to the mattress.

“Please, Harry.”

Harry did not look at him for a moment, hurt and fear coupled with the desire to understand warring within in his chest. He was not sure he even wanted to know Dumbledore's reasons at this point. To his own surprise, he desired to talk with Dumbledore about things that did not bring up rage and pain, things that mattered now; that would help him know the old wizard better... ones that did not dredge up so many painful memories. He had had enough of those to last a lifetime.

“I really don't want to talk about this,” he finally replied. “You had your reasons, I'm sure.”

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “You need to understand, Harry; I must make you understand not only for your sake, but for mine. Whatever closure I can provide I want to give you... before I've gone...”

“Don't say that...”

“I must,” the Headmaster interrupted before Harry could finish. He swallowed hard, a look of pleading in his eyes. “It does neither of us good to... to deny the truth. I am dying. So in the time I have left... I want you to listen to me.”

Harry worked his jaw for a moment, and finally nodded. Walking back closer to Hermione's small bed, he grabbed a straight-backed chair between the two cots and set it down near Dumbledore's own, sitting himself down and leaning forward, elbows on knees, so that he was face level with him.

Dumbledore stared into Harry's eyes, dull blue on bottle green, and began; his voice quiet and hoarse with pain.

“Both your father and I wanted what was best for you... what would keep you safe for as long as possible...” he sighed heavily. “You're father has never known I was related to Lily, nor did she herself, for the matter... I don't doubt James would hate me did he know.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously. “Why...”

“Because the same magical blood protection you needed from Petunia Dursley... could also have been provided to you through me,” Dumbledore replied unhappily, his breath wheezing from his lungs. “Coming from the same bloodline... I could have kept you myself, Harry. I could have... could have been selfish enough to hope I, myself, could raise you; keep you under my wing of protection the entire time until it was safe for your father to reveal his true identity. I could have had you raised in the wizarding world, knowing your heritage the entire time, understanding what had befallen you... and what else fate was to hand you...”

“And why didn't you!?” Harry whispered harshly, despite himself. He leaned back in his chair, moonlight now moving down his body to hide his face. “Even beyond the whole love and acceptance thing... I could've understood... I could've been better prepared...”

“Because I was short-sighted, Harry... because I did not yet understand what you were capable of handling,” Dumbledore replied apologetically, pausing here and there to draw enough air in his lungs to continue. “However, there are many other, more important reasons for which I do not regret the decision I made. You must understand the position I would have put you in... The very moment you moved out from my sight and consequently, the blood protection I provided, unhidden in our world where your fame would have made you known to everyone, where they would have known where you were and what you were doing at any given time, Voldemort would have wasted no time in taking your life. The search... the hunt for you would have been so easy, Harry. And I could not have kept you locked inside Hogwarts your whole life or kept my eyes on you every minute, much as I hate myself every day for not having tried. Voldemort has hated me more than anything in this world from the moment, so long ago, that our ideals parted ways... He has hated you just as completely for what...”

He paused to take another deep, rasping breath, his energy waning.

“...for what you were and would become... He searched relentlessly for you after your mother and Remus Lupin were killed; after the killing curse he attempted to use on you rebounded to him. With every bit of the half-life he still possessed he wanted you dead... He knew what you were destined to become; how powerful you would be. He knew from having learned only the beginning of Sybil Trelawny's prophecy that you were the boy he searched for. You've been a threat to him from the moment you were born, and... were you to have been with me, even worse than if you were to have lived a life of hiding and exile with your father... you would have been in danger every single moment... as much as you were the day Voldemort raided Godric's Hollow and took your mother's life.”

“I wasn't in danger, anyway?” Harry scoffed aloud, his hands balled into fists. “I reckon you don't recall me and my cousin Dudley being attacked by a couple of Dementors in Little Whinging two years ago, then...”

“Two years ago, Harry,” interrupted Dumbledore weakly. “And for... for fifteen years before that, you had been safely hidden with the Muggles in Privet Drive, only resurfacing in the wizarding world every year... within the relatively safe confines of Hogwarts. Your fifth year was the first time Voldemort had been able to attack you away from school, having finally figured your location. I'm still not sure how he did it.”

Harry leaned forward again, his head in his hands, fingernails scraping his scalp, his good sense fighting off the overwhelming desire to get up and run away from the old wizard. He did not want to hear any more about how neither Dumbledore nor his father could keep him, about how there were so many good reasons why they had left him to be raised by the family from hell... It did not matter that what Dumbledore said was beginning to make sense... He did not want it to make sense. For so long his indignation, his hurt over being abandoned had been all he had to hold on to... a sort of warped security. He was not certain he was ready to let it go.

“And what about after?” he demanded, looking up once again. “After I knew what was happening with Voldemort... after I knew he was after me, when you finally decided I was old enough to take it... Why didn't you tell me then who you were? It's not as if keeping the secret from then up until now has made me any more safe, has it?”

Dumbledore sighed, the breath whooshing out unevenly from his lungs. He took a slow, deep pull of air and continued.

“You remember when I told you two years ago about the mistakes I've made? You remember... remember when I told you I had kept the prophecy concerning you and Voldemort from you because I foolishly held that you were not ready to hear it? In the same way, I fooled myself every year into thinking too much time had already passed; that if the truth about who I am to you were to come out, it might make you feel even less loved or wanted; even more abandoned than you already feel. With each year that passed, it became easier to convince myself that to tell you would be rendering you a great disservice. Each year that passed, I reasoned that my being related to you, after all, had no real bearing on any of the events in your life. It was enough, I decided, that you understood Voldemort hated you for how powerful you had become, and for what the prophecy stated you might do. I could not think to tell you that he hated you even more for being half-Slytherin, and for being related to me. I convinced myself that to reveal my secret to you now would be great selfishness on my part and that I would be doing it for my own benefit. I knew you would not understand the decision I had made to give you up. Had I told you I had the opportunity to keep you, but chose instead to give you to others to raise, to hide you in the Muggle world, it would have been an even heavier thing for you to bear, considering you have always felt unworthy of love and affection.”

“I can't imagine why,” Harry stated harshly.

A few tears leaked out from Dumbledore's eyes and slid down his cheeks, but Harry simply turned away from him.

“Everything... all of it... became harder and harder for me to tell you,” Dumbledore continued. “It was not yet time, in my muddled way of thinking, to let you in on the entire burden of your existence. To have revealed my true identity to you would have been to reveal my Slytherin heritage, and consequently, yours. Two years ago, after I finally told you the prophecy, I could not bring myself to add even more misery to the mix by letting you know, once again, that you had been given up to someone else to raise. You had just been through a difficult ordeal, having fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, and I could not bring myself to add more hard revelations.”

“What made you decide to tell me out there, then...” Harry demanded more than asked, gesturing roughly toward the window where moonlight poured in, silvery and glowing. “What changed...”

Dumbledore's old eyes raked over Harry in that instant, memorising everything about him, from his messy black hair, to his intense green eyes, to the tall sturdy frame that sat slumped in the chair next to his bed.

“Because... I love you, Harry,” he answered simply. “Because I finally realised a young man stood before me, and not a boy; and that life had long ago grown you up right under my nose. Before I left this earth, if the fates decided it was to be so, I wanted you to know everything. I hoped knowing you had so many who truly loved and cared for you might somehow... make a large difference... I still hope someday... someday it will.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“I wish... You should have told me earlier... You should have. I would've... we would've...”

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and nodded.

“Yes, I should have. Fact was, I was selfish. The longer I waited to tell you, the more difficult it became for me to do so. I knew I would not be able to explain my actions well enough that it would take your pain away. Nothing I said or did would ever be adequate.”

He grabbed for Harry's hand but the younger man moved it slightly out of his reach, feeling uncomfortable.

“I don't ask you to forgive me,” Dumbledore continued sadly. “I would not dare to ask you for something... something you most certainly do not owe. I only wanted you to know the entire tale, from beginning to end... Not only for my sake, but for yours. As your father once said to you, all that was done was done for your protection... Miserably as you were raised, as difficult as your life has been you did have blood protection through your mother's sacrifice, in your Aunt Petunia's home, and you were well hidden; something you needed under the circumstances. If you were unable to stay with me, you had to be with her. Even now I would change very little of what was done to keep you safe. Had your father or I kept you it would have been much too easy for Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters to find you and take your life prematurely. You have had time to grow up, to grow stronger... you were given seventeen years to prepare for what you faced. You ARE the saviour of the wizarding world, Harry. I had to make certain you were able to live long enough to accomplish that goal, no matter what your father, or I, or even... even you had to sacrifice in the process.”

Harry said nothing, letting the old wizard's words sink in, the truth in them providing a sort of balm, however thin, for his soul.

“I've always wanted to live long enough... to see it happen.” Dumbledore replied very quietly, wincing, his breath wheezing out more shallow and painful than ever. “Now I have. I have seen the beginning of this tragedy, and I have witnessed its ending... I can leave this earth knowing the circle is complete, and you Harry... you are still here.”

Something in the halting way the Headmaster spoke alarmed him, and Harry's gaze shot at once from the mattress where he had been staring, to the lined face before him. Dumbledore had been steadily growing paler and weaker during the short time they had been speaking with one another, the hollows under his eyes darker and more deeply sunken in, and his voice rough and breathless. The tall frame that once, years ago had seemed to radiate power and authority, now seemed oddly small and frail. The blue eyes that had before so easily blazed with righteous indignation and twinkled with merry energy, now moved only dully over Harry's face.

Forgetting all of his discomfort, Harry once again grabbed Dumbledore's hand in his own much stronger one and gave it a squeeze, his own voice coming out deep and overwhelmed with emotion.

“Please don't go.”

Dumbledore's breath now rattled in his chest. He gazed very fondly at Harry; the slightest hint of the old, witty twinkle in his eye.

“You'll find, Harry... when the fates call you away, they are not easily dissuaded... They can be... very stubborn.”

He smiled at Harry, but Harry did not smile back.

Instead the younger man leaned closer and whispered desperately into the old wizard's ear.

“Stay... There's still so much for you to see. Hermione and I... I want to marry her, you know,” his eyes began to sting with tears. “I want you there with me when it happens. I want my family there...”

Dumbledore's chest rose and fell heavily as he struggled to breath.

“You'll have your godfather... and your father. Let him in, Harry. He loves you... more than you will ever know...”

“I have,” Harry whispered in return, shaking his head. “I mean, I've been... I'm doing better... I'm trying...”

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly and nodded in understanding. His grip on Harry's hand began to slacken.

Harry felt himself shaking with desperation, despite his own inward attempts to calm himself. It was too soon... he couldn't leave now, not when they had just really found each other...

“No, please don't go...”

“It is... my time...” Dumbledore whispered more quietly than ever.

A look of mild surprise suddenly passed over the old man's drawn mouth, as if he had just realised something of great importance. Obviously using every last bit of his strength he let go of Harry's hand and, with his own free, fumbled weakly within the chest part of his robes. His fingers finally clenched over something and a look of relief washed over his face.

“Thank Merlin Poppy did not... change my... did not take it...”

Harry frowned at him through his tears. “What're you doing...”

Dumbledore pulled out a small, aged piece of parchment folded in fourths, the worn edges looking yellowed and frayed from being opened and refolded too many times.

“My gift... to you and your father...”

Harry took the paper from Dumbledore but did not open it.

“What is it...”

“Sybil will... will help you... she will understand...”

Harry glanced up at the ceiling, his throat constricting painfully and his face screwed up hard in an attempt not to cry.

“Harry,” said Dumbledore raspily.

Harry blinked hard and turned his gaze back to Dumbledore. The old wizard reached out with his last bit of strength and placed a hand on Harry's wet cheek.

“Be happy, my boy... do what makes you happy. M..marry, have children... play Quidditch,” he whispered with the small twitch of a smile. “My greatest wish has always been... to see you past this horror; to truly live... Do it, Harry. Live.”

Harry nodded and leaned closer to look into Dumbledore's eyes.

“I will... I promise.” He breathed very deeply before continuing. “And I forgive you. I understand what you did.”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

“Then I am free... as well.”

He took one more shallow breath, breathed out slowly, let his eyelids drop over the image of Harry's face, and died with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Still gripping the old man's slack hand, Harry dropped his forehead to the mattress in front of him.

He felt himself shaking with sobs before he realised he was actually doing it.

A few moments later on bare feet, Hermione slipped out from her cot, having awoke a few minutes earlier, and heard and seen the last bit of their conversation.

She walked quietly over to Harry and laid a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Harry.”

Harry raised his head from the mattress and stared up at her.

Not saying another word, she moved in front of him and straddled his lap, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Harry let go of Dumbledore's hand, grabbed her around the middle, buried his face in her chest and let himself go.

*~~*~~*~~*~~

'O Captain, my Captain!' By Walt Whitman

...My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

**************************************************

Some three or four days later, having both been successfully discharged from the school's infirmary, Harry and his father made their ways down Hogwarts drafty castle halls toward Sybil Trelawny's old Divination classroom. Harry had told James about the small piece of folded parchment Dumbledore had given him before he died, and both had decided to take the late Headmaster's advice and visit Trelawny about its contents; scribbled out lines written in an almost indecipherable Latin scrawl.

Sometimes along the way, they stopped to meet and greet those Muggle-born students they came across who had been rescued with the rest from the secret location in the Grampian Mountains, and who had returned to school for a few days to gather their things and speak with the Professors about moving forward the next year despite not finishing this one, and about end of the year tests.

Harry found it all too surreal, bumping into and talking with some of those students he and others had tried only last month to persuade not to get on Umbridge's 'Death Train'. He noticed the haunted, timid look in so many of their eyes and expressions, the way their halted movements seemed jerky and suspicious, the way their cheeks sunk in just a bit more than normal; their bodies a bit more frail and worn. Passing by these and still others who did not belong to the school, but bustled past making their ways to the infirmary or somewhere else, he marvelled at the fact that life attempted to move on, a struggle back to the usual, what with the after-effects of so much of the bizarre and remarkable weaving in and out of the whole picture.

However, despite Dumbledore's death and all that had happened, he understood routine and normalcy had to be gone on about, no matter how absurd the continuance of everyday things seemed. Life went on and someday, in what seemed the very distant future, life would put the war and it's effects behind them.

As if to solidify this notion, McGonnagol, acting as Headmistress until she or another could be officially appointed, declared that N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s were to be held in few days. She understood as much as anyone that the effects of the war and all else that had gone on would have extreme impact on how the students were able to perform, but, she had reasoned, it could not be delayed any longer as end of the year had approached, and students needed to be able to leave, unhindered. Those who did not do well or simply could not take the tests were to be given the choice of taking the written part via owl post, and the practical part with discreet visits from a Ministry appointed tester. Most of the teachers and remaining student body had agreed with her decision. Harry himself had thought it a good idea, thinking that for the first time he would like nothing better than to put Hogwarts and its memories out of his mind for a good while.

Harry and James finally rounded the last corner, and soon found themselves standing near the long ladder that lead upwards to the trap door of Trelawny's classroom.

Climbing up one after the other, they finally stood in the still overly-heated room. She had her back to them, packing away crystal balls, tiny burlap bags of incense and their burners, tea cups and leaves and all other manner of ridiculous future-telling objects. She was dressed the normal way in a frumpy dress covered in drapes and shawls; her wrists again covered in too many bracelets and bangles, and her large, thick glasses finally repaired.

She turned about, her arms full of Divination primers, and pinned them with her enormous, slightly mad eyes before they could even announce their presence.

“Ah, and there you are. I knew you were coming, both of you. I've always sensed these things...”

“Right,” Harry began under his breath, instantly irritated. “Look Professor, dad and I have something Professor Dumbledore gave me before... before he died. He told me you might know what it means.”

To Harry's slight consternation she did not seem surprised by this. He began to watch her closely.

James took the parchment from Harry and moved nearer Trelawny. “Have a look at this Sybil; tell us what you think.”

Trelawny nodded, not saying anything. She unfolded the paper and opened it, her largely magnified eyes moving quickly over the words. She seemed to study it for quite some time, her expression making it seem as if she were surprised Dumbledore had given it to them. Finally, she looked up.

“Well...” she smiled rather tightly, lowering the paper. “It seems you have been given a great gift... It's the only way something like this could be done, and he must've known it, great wizard he was. But if it works properly... one never knows with these things...”

“Mind telling us what the 'thing' is?” Harry spoke up dryly.

Trelawny sighed. “Once again I am reminded that you never paid attention in my classes, Mr. Potter. It is an incantation, an ancient one, much like what was used to save your life out there,” she gestured vaguely toward her window, her bangles clinking together.

Harry knew she meant in the forest. Hermione and Ron had let him in on what had happened to the shield and why it had fallen.

“This incantation is some sort of gift?” asked James rather sceptically. “Sounds odd... I don't suppose you want to elaborate on...”

“Not at the present time, no.” Trelawny spoke up very quickly. “Suffice it to say if it works, you'll know instantly what it was. If it doesn't I'm sure you will be greatly disappointed, and I'd much rather you come to me later to ask what you've missed, rather than knowing instantly...”

“You enjoy being cryptic, don't you?” Harry broke in, now thoroughly annoyed. “Just tell us what we're in for for Merlin's sake...”

“You'll see what I mean,” Trelawny replied, never faltering. “Are you...” She paused, looking at Harry a bit uncomfortably. “Are you aware of where you're paren... Your mother and.. Remus Lupin.. are buried?”

“Not... I've never been there...” Harry looked taken aback. His heart began to flutter dangerously in his chest. “Are you trying to tell me this is some daft way of bringing them BACK from...”

“Nothing can bring back the dead Mr. Pot... Harry,” Trelawny interrupted with a much softer tone. “Nevertheless, you will need to be near their graves when using this. If it is to work, it will need to be there.”

James and Harry stared at her as if she had gone completely round the twist. In reality, they were not quite sure she had not.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but James spoke up before he could.

“Thank you, Sybil. We'll let you know how it turns out.”

They left the room, Harry looking decidedly angry with her.

“I daresay I'll know next time we meet,” Trelawny whispered quietly after them.

***************************************************

A/N: I know this chapter is a bit shorter than what I've been putting out, but I thought this a good place to pause and wanted to get another out to all of you. Thank you so much for reading, and the next few chapters will be happier, guaranteed. Please review, it only takes a few seconds to do, and I would so like your comments and criticisms. It means a great deal. Thanks!

39. Chapter 39: What Once Was

Chapter 39: What Once Was

“A Clear Midnight”, by Walt Whitman.

...This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,

Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson

done,

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the

themes thou lovest best,

Night, sleep, death and the stars.

It was two days until the set date for Dumbledore's funeral, which was to be held at Waterford cemetery, the very same cemetery in which former Minister Fudge had been buried. James finally decided that if he was going to try out the incantation, whatever it was for, he had better do it before it was time for the funeral, Harry’s exams, and finally, leaving Hogwarts. At first he had been adamant about making the trip to Lupin and Lily’s graves alone, but Harry had insisted he wanted to go along, having never before been to visit his where his mother was buried and needing somehow to do so. Finally, after much discussion, James had relented, leaving Harry slightly confused about why he had wanted so much to make the trip alone in the first place. In the end, Harry asked both Ron and Hermione if they wanted to come along as well, and after a lot of discussion in which Hermione initially felt Harry and James should go alone, they both decided to come.

The trip was taken by auto- an old, metallic brown Allegra Vanden Plas rented for the day from 'Magicars', a business in Hogsmeade where old cars left in Muggle junkyards had been rescued, magically repaired and kept for loaning out to wizards in need of mundane, non-suspicious transport.

James drove them from the edge of Hogsmeade and on through a couple of small towns running through the Scottish countryside; down long, narrow paved roads, and eventually, along winding roads that, for a time, ran round the jade green outskirts of the Forbidden Forest before heading toward the mountains.

They took a bend that passed them round the back of a part of the forest which looked to be full of large, sparsely-covered trees covered in new, light green growth. At once Harry knew he was staring at the back edge of the Forest of Kavan, magically growing double-time to make up for the years it had stood barren. He and Hermione smiled from the back seat, Ron in front with James, as they watched a couple of rabbits hop nervously back into the trees when they drove by. Even the animals were starting to return.

Harry sighed contentedly as he let down the window next to him for a touch of cool breeze. Hermione was plastered to him in the small back seat, her body planted firmly between his thighs and her head resting snugly under his chin. Her arse was pressing into that part of him he would rather keep calm at the moment; small wiggles and shifts to get comfortable from her exciting him to the point of embarrassment. And she knew what she was doing. To make matters worse, the wind kept blowing her bushy hair into his eyes and mouth, and each time he made to blink it away or spit a piece of it out of his mouth, her body shook against him with suppressed laughter. She made no attempt to move away and relieve him from her hair or her nicely shaped arse. Inbetween digging his fingers into her ribs as retribution and making her squirm, Harry decided that this was the most deliciously uncomfortable way to travel. Now that he could hold her close without the fear of what might happen next pounding at the back of his brain, he decided he would be taking every advantage to do so. Oh and how he had plans for later... It had been too long since he and Hermione had spent time together alone, truly happy and carefree without thoughts of dread piercing through every stolen moment. He planned on making the most of the couple of days they had left before exams and end of school.

Now though, as they drove along, Harry sobered; thinking to himself how stupid he was that he had never thought to ask where his mother and Remus Lupin were buried. Was he really that self-centred? Did he not care as much about them as he thought he did? As many times as he had thought of them throughout the years, especially when he had thought it was both his mother and father who had died, why had he had never asked to be taken to their graves?

The road continued to bend until it came to a straight line, where Harry could see up ahead in the distance, in the valley and at the foot of the nearest mountain, stood another village. The small shops and houses were all wooden and shaped as if they were taken straight from some old nineteenth century photo, but something about the derelict, unkempt way they stood, rickety and unused for some time made the place feel a bit off, as if it had been abandoned in a hurry one day and never returned to. He had turned to speak to Hermione in the instant they finally passed into the town, and both missed the small wooden sign that marked where they were until it had been passed by, too late to read. In the front seat, however, James had noted the name of the deserted place with a depressed, unhappy flop of his heart. They were passing through what was once a thriving little town, known as Godric’s Hollow.

As the car puttered along through the abandoned town, Harry shifted Hermione sideways on his lap and, in whispers, discussed with her his fears about the reasons he had never visited his parents graves; Ron, with his seat adjusted back, snoring open-mouthed from the front as he had been for some time. She reasoned with him that he had been quite busy with other more pressing things to really think on it, and that maybe he had sub-consciously not been ready to face it. Harry nodded, sighing out a breath he had not known he was holding. He could only hope what she had said was the reason. Ever since he had seen his parents looking back at him from the Mirror of Erised so long ago, it had been his fondest pretend to imagine they were alive on some plane of reality and thinking about him, and he reckoned seeing their graves would splash a cold bit of truth on those thoughts. Still, he felt now he was ready. He had no choice in the matter at any rate. From the front, James had just announced in a rather small voice that they would be arriving at their destination soon.

Harry only then began to realise they had already passed through the main part of the tiny town, and were now travelling steadily up and round the mountain the town had rested near the bottom of. He was sure this mountain was the jagged purple one he had always seen from the castle, rising so starkly above the rest in the distance behind the Forbidden Forest. To think his mother and Remus Lupin's graves had always stood on this large rock, so close to where he went to school each year, made an odd shudder travel down his spine. It was not an eerie feeling, but more the sort one got when something significant had been forgotten, and Harry had the feeling it was a something his mind had deliberately not wanted him to remember. He grabbed Hermione's hand and instantly she held it tight, squeezing it comfortingly and gazing steadily on him.

“It's alright Harry,” she whispered into his ear. “You're not alone.”

A few minutes later James steered the car off of the main road they had been winding up and onto an off-shooting dirt road that seemed to run straight on and down from the mid-backside of the mountain. For a long while, the only thing obscuring Harry's vision of other mountains looming ahead was clouds of dirt billowing upward from the car and large quantities of ram-rod straight green mountain pines. However, as the road they had been travelling took a short bend, the view in front of him began to become sparser and sparser with trees until it expanded into a sunny, rolling, jewel-green valley; one covered in boulders and pastel-coloured mountain flowers which swayed as one in a gentle breeze.

Harry stiffened.

On his lap, Hermione gripped the car door and stared out the window, beaming, a warm breeze blowing her hair back from her face.

“Oh, Harry look; oh... it's so beautiful!”

In the front, James said nothing; his fingers as they gripped the steering wheel turning white at the knuckles.

Harry stayed mute as well, a lump swelling in his throat at the sight before him and a wave of strange nostalgia sweeping him over...

As the valley swept along beside the car, long buried flashes of a very short life with his parents flickered through his mind so quickly he was not sure it was not a product of his imagination.

His mother holding his small chubby hand and laughing as he stumbled along the green grass, ripping up unsuspecting little flowers as he went... the ground had looked so very close, covered in tiny criss-crossing roots...

For me? What a beautiful flower! Thank you, Harry!

His father, James, tall and messy-haired like his son was now, calling playfully for him as he, Harry, sat hidden in a large clump of grass, giggling; his grubby, little fingers grabbing at a cricket and stuffing it into his mouth...

Harry, I don't see you! Have you turned invisible?

Harry alternating walking and swinging between his parents as they held his small hands and helped him along; laughing as they swept him off his feet to launch upward, the blue sky overhead rushing at him...

You can fly, can't you? Only, you can fly without Daddy's broom! Aren't you clever? Here we go...

Harry's heart flipped over. Ahead and drawing closer as they neared, half-hidden in a small clump of trees that seemed to stand apart on their own and that formed a U-shaped hollow, stood an abandoned log cabin with a wooden swing set into the front porch, the wood greying and old from years of weathering.

Like ghosts from the past, more haunting images began to sweep in and out of his thoughts.

James and Lily sitting on the porch swing and rocking gently in the night, baby Harry in- between them... the swing had flipped over once on accident, they had all three fallen down...

Oh, Harry... are you alright? Don't cry honey, I'm not laughing at you...

Harry stumbling along the raised wooden porch after a small kitten and almost falling off the end if not for his father catching him just in time... He actually had done once; he had been quite accident prone, hadn't he?

Leave the kitty alone Harry, he doesn't want to fly...

Harry levitating his cat quite by accident and dropping it off the porch...

Songs sung gently into the night as the image of impossibly large trees and a soft moon blinked foggily in and out of his sight... Lily singing him to sleep as they sat on the porch to spend time alone with James...

Lullaby, and good night... so that Daddy and I can sno..og... James had chuckled.

Inside the cabin had felt warm and safe... Sights and smells permeated his thoughts...

Red and gold stars hanging above his crib, (he swatted at them with tiny hands)... The image of a patterned rug covered with magically flitting snitches lying on the sitting room floor; he had crawled about on it, playing, trying to catch snitches even then... Orange fire licking at logs in a large hearth as his father and mother sat on a deep red couch near him, talking...

Don't touch the fire, Harry! No,no... It burns!

Blue fire erupting from the Muggle gas stove Harry's mother had used to warm up his milk...

Don't touch the stove, Harry, it burns! Ouch! See?

Green fire blasting out from a long wooden stick, travelling toward who he had thought was his father...

Lily, take Harry and GO!

and then his mother...

No, mommy, daddy... don't touch the fire... it burns...

Their bodies crumpling to the floor, Harry staring at them from between the wooden bars of his crib, moonlight illuminating them in the darkness...

The same green fire travelling toward him like a jade lightning bolt... Fire burning his forehead, (he hadn't touched it, it had touched him! He had been a good boy, hadn't he?) Fire deflecting back from him and smashing back into the tall dark figure it had come from...

The figure shrieking and sweeping from the room like a living nightmare...

And his parents would not get up.

He was crying... screaming... he was reaching for them between the bars of his crib and still they would not move... Why wouldn't they get up and come to him?

Alone.

He was alone.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the cabin. Ron jerked awake and sat up straight, sputtering.

“What..wh... we're here? Where's here? What is this place, what... Wait... Hold on...”

He stared ahead at the grey cabin, looked over at James who sat very still, his face pale, and then twisted abruptly in his seat to stare at Harry, whose face was pressed into his hands, while Hermione, her arms wrapped tightly about his waist, murmured into his shoulder.

“It's where you lived, isn't it? It's where they w..were...” She paused and hugged him even tighter, her voice almost fierce. “You're not alone, Harry... Listen to me- you'll never be alone again.”

In the front seat, with his head bowed low, his eyes closed, and his hands still gripping the steering wheel, James took a few moments to compose himself.

“I thought it might be here,” said Ron very quietly, turning round to stare out the windshield once again. “I wasn't sure but I thought.. I thought it might be.”

James nodded heavily, his voice coming out very gruff. “This was our home, right on the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow... Lily and I moved here some two years before Harry was even born. We were hidden here, safe; for a time, anyway... This was our place.”

He turned round in his seat to look at Harry, who had finally lowered his hands and was staring past James at the cabin.

“You remember some of this, don't you son,” James stated more than asked.

Harry nodded as if he were in a trance. “Somehow... yeah, I do.”

James nodded heavily and sighed. “I thought you might, even as young as you were. The mind has a way of bringing about memories you didn't even know existed, especially ones suppressed through trauma. It’s why I didn’t want you to come with me. I thought… I reckoned you’d been through enough.”

Harry tore his eyes from the scene beyond the windshield to look at his father. “I needed to come. I need to see them.”

“I know you do,” James sighed and twisted so that he could reach a hand out and place it on his son’s shoulder. “And so do I, incantation or no. I used to come here a lot but, well... it got too hard. I've avoided it long enough now, I think.”

For a few moments they sat there, James mentally preparing himself to revisit the old place after many years, and Harry preparing himself to take it in for what seemed like the first time. After sitting immobile in the car for more than five minutes, they decided not to avoid it any longer.

The old porch creaked and groaned under their feet as James, Harry, Hermione and Ron moved to the door, James taking out a long skeleton key and jiggling it in the old rusty lock until he finally had to use his wand to unlock it.

“Alohomora.”

The lock gave one solid, scraping click, and the door snicked open. James entered first, very slowly, with Harry close behind.

No one spoke a word as they surveyed the derelict place. It was as if they had entered some sacred haunt.

The main room was filtered through with dusty sunlight. The old red couch Harry had just seen in his thoughts lay on its back where it had fallen, covered in a thick layer of dust that did little to hide a few dark magical gashes marring the front. Ron moved forward wonderingly to finger the wand marks, feeling as if he was witnessing the ruins of something historical.

The rug Harry had played on as a baby lay sprawled unevenly and slightly bunched in front of the couch, as if someone had slipped on it while running. Dirty golden-coloured snitches still flitted about its ragged loops and snags, although now moving very slowly, bumping into each other and the rounded outside hem. The fireplace directly in front of the little sitting area lay cold and long unused, filled with old whitish-grey ash.

Harry moved forward to the mantle above it and ran a finger through a thick layer of undisturbed dust covering the wood.

He was the first to speak.

“No pictures?”

“You’ve seen them,” said James, coming up behind him and watching Harry as he rubbed the dust between his fingers. “In my room at Hogwarts. They’re the only things I took from this place after the… after it happened. Everything else is just as it was that night.”

Harry turned round to look at him. “Why?”

Hermione and Ron were now peering down the short hallway round the corner of the fireplace.

James looked away from Harry, his eyes sweeping old Muggle paintings and pictures of relatives on the wall, familiar nooks and crannies, dusty toys of Harry’s scattered about on the floor, in the same position they had been in the night of the attack, and the old dining room table and chairs which had been upended as well.

He sighed. “I don’t think anyone could bear trying to clean it up.”

Looking around at the place, a home which must be full of more memories than he would ever know, Harry at once understood.

Ron took a step backward and peered past James at Harry, looking very solemn.

“Mate, look here,” he pointed forward, down the hallway to the part of the house they had not yet explored. “I think this must’ve been your old room.”

Harry moved forward immediately, very aware of Ron’s eyes on the back of his head as his friend followed him down the short, dusty hallway, past a room whose door was shut, past the loo, and finally, to the room at the very end of the hallway.

The heavy, wooden door to the old room, already ajar, creaked quietly as he pushed it open.

Hermione was already inside the tiny room, touching little things as she passed by. A wooden rocking chair, lying on its side where it had crashed down, sat near a small table with a very dusty lamp in the shape of a unicorn which had been left miraculously untouched. A baby's dressing table with a padded top covered in dusty little pastel moons and stars was against the immediate wall, with half a bag of unused diapers, an old yellowed, plastic baby bottle lying on its side, and a soft, folded Winnie-the-Pooh blanket lying on top.

Harry fingered the dirty blanket, curiosity stealing through a bit of the numbness that had filled him up since entering the cabin.

“Strange seeing something like that, isn’t it?” James said quietly, picking up the blanket when Harry had done with it and holding it closely to his chest. “You’ll find not everything here is representative of the magical world. Lily had a lot of Muggle tastes growing up as she did.”

Harry nodded, watching Ron move over to finger torn, ash-smudged golden curtains hanging over the window directly behind his old crib, and Hermione, as she continued to move about, touching things in the small room as if they were sacred; ones that belonged to an innocent time... A little tote bag patterned with flying brooms and bludgers, a toy box painted over with what looked to be a scene from a book Harry had once read entitled 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe'... She moved over to the old wooden crib, fingering the plush red and gold toy stars that hung above it, and immediately after, found a long burned out gouge that had been cut into the wood of the railing, her eyes moving beyond it to the black-smudged curtains Ron stood near. She touched the wounded bit of wood, her fingertips coming back sooty, and turned wide eyes from Harry to James.

“Is… is this from…”

“I've only been inside this old place once since that night,” said James quietly, his voice cracking. “Hagrid came and rescued Harry before... before I had even heard what happened.” He moved forward beside Hermione to inspect the rough notch cut into his son's old crib, his fingers trembling as he touched the wood. “But yeah... I reckon this is from that night.”

Hermione turned to look at Harry who stood rooted to the spot, staring at the old black scar in the wood.

“Harry...”

Had his mother been sitting in that old rocking chair, upending it in her haste to reach him after Lupin cried out for her to grab him up and go? Had he, Harry, been sitting just beyond the old railing of that crib, watching green fire travel toward him after it had killed his mother and father?

“Harry...”

His mother had obviously not even had time to pick him up before throwing herself in front of him... He could almost see the entire scene playing out before him, written in the old clues left behind… could almost hear his mother screaming again, the same he had done the day a Dementor had attacked him in third year on the train on the way to school, forcing him to relive not the sights, but the sounds of that night, which were almost worse by comparison…

“Harry.”

Harry snapped back to the present and stared at the three surrounding him. Hermione, Ron, and his father were gazing at him with some concern.

James walked over to him and grabbed him gently round his forearm, steering him toward the door. “Let's get out of this old place.”

They moved back down the hallway and into the main room again, this time taking a sharp right and veering into the kitchen where the old Muggle stove Harry had remembered stood coated in years of dust, with a pot sitting on the smallest burner, still waiting to be used. On the back wall was a glass-paned wooden door that led out to the backyard, and Harry realised this was where James was leading them.

A warm breeze lifted their hair and the loose ends of their clothes as Harry, Hermione and Ron followed James outside, and as Harry shut the door behind him, hearing it reverberate with a final sounding click, he felt a good bit of his sadness stay behind, locked away from him within the house. He would not be going back in, of that he was sure. He would be moving forward from now on.

Beyond the house they began to tromp through a tall, rolling field of grass tangled with purple heather, one that must have served as a sort of backyard but which had no boundaries to make it more than a very large field. Harry followed James, wading through it with Hermione and Ron following directly behind him, a light breeze lifting and swirling little dried heads of heather into the air so that they had to swipe purple petals away from their faces with every few steps.

In the distance Harry could see a large clump of pine trees that marked the beginnings of a tree line. Snaking out of the pines and to the left was a tiny mountain stream that bubbled down into a small clear pond, one he instantly had a flash of playing in with his father. It was this edging of trees he realised they were walking toward.

It was after trudging over the top of yet another small hill, when he saw two half-moon shaped bits of stone in the distance rising above the heather as they neared, that Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart feeling as if it had seized up in his chest.

James heard his son pause but continued walking on his own, having predicted his son's reaction but knowing that if he stopped as well he might never continue on again. He had visited Lily and Remus’ graves on several occasions throughout the years, and each time it became harder and harder to return; the guilt of knowing he had left them to go information gathering the night they had died gnawing at his insides and refusing to let him go. Common sense, in a voice that sounded remarkably like Lily's, reminded him yet again that had he been there that night he probably would have died as well, but his conscience simply would not let him alone. His only consolation in not dying with his wife was the fact that Harry still had one living parent, and no matter how long it had taken for him to be able to act as such, in his heart, no matter how head accused him, he knew Lily would have wanted it that way. He only wished it had been he, James, who had died that night, and that Lily had been left for Harry. She had always been the better parent.

He reached the graves and stopped short, feeling his heart give a familiar painful lurch upon reading the etching on the simple granite headstones once again. His fingers itched to grab out the parchment Dumbledore had given Harry, read it aloud, and have done with whatever was supposed to happen, but he wanted Harry to have the chance to visit his mother’s grave properly before they were done and would not hurry him along for anything.

It took a full five minutes for James to hear the shuffling of feet behind him that indicated Harry’s friends had finally been able to make him move him forward. The three stopped behind him, as fully entranced in the scene before him as James himself was. Two simple, polished headstones stood gleaming in the last pastel beams of the afternoon sun, looking only slightly weather-worn.

Lily Anne Evans-Potter
1960 – 1981
Beloved wife and mother.
Died protecting her family.

James Alan Potter
1960 – 1981
Beloved husband and father
Died protecting his family.

Harry stood stock still, his hands jammed in his pockets. He wanted to move forward and touch his mother's grave, to somehow let her know he was there and he had not forgotten her, but his feet would not move him forward. However, to his surprise, the sharp pain he had expected upon seeing her grave for the first time turned out to be more like a dull ache. He had had a long time to come to grips with her death, and even though seeing where she was buried did drive the fact home even deeper, somehow, in his heart, he felt that it was only her body lying there in the dirt. It hurt to know she had died so young, without getting to live life, but Harry knew she was in a much better place now and that she would never experience pain or suffering again. She had died willingly. She had died to save him.

Harry looked at Hermione, down at their clasped hands... and understood.

For a few moments no one said anything, but being the sort he was, Ron was the first to break the silence. Somehow it was a welcome intrusion.

“Blimey,” he whispered, somewhat awed. “I wouldn't like staring at my own grave, that's for sure- even if it wasn't really mine.”

“Well, it's supposed to be my headstone; we had to put my name on,” James explained unnecessarily. “Would have been a might suspicious to have Remus' name etched there, wouldn't it?”

Ron grunted. “Well all the same- it's eerie.”

Harry looked up at his father. “And now that everything's over?”

James smiled sadly at him. “Now that I can finally come out in the open, I want Remus' name where it belongs. He never got the recognition he deserved for what he did because I've had to hide for so long. I reckon now it's time he did.”

Hermione had the distinct feeling both James and Harry were relieved that Ron had broken the silence, so that they now both found it easier to speak. The seriousness of the moment was not lost on any of them, but Hermione felt neither Harry nor his father could have been the one to speak up first, and silently thanked Merlin for Ron's presence once again as she had so many times before.

James fished his wand out of his back pocket and waved it over the words carved into his own headstone.

“Exsculpo.”

The etched stone behind the lettering seemed to move forward as if melting the letters forward and out of itself, finally leaving behind a smooth, unmarked surface.

Harry stared at where the words had just been, feeling oddly moved, as if seeing his father's name disappear from the stone made it all the more real that James was, indeed, standing there in front of him. It had almost been easy to slip into some strange, alternate way of thinking about it, what with his father continuing to look like Remus Lupin after the revelation that he was indeed James Potter. Somehow seeing that name erase from an actual headstone made it all the more real.

James stood beside the grave, held his wand out again and placed it against the cool stone as if he was preparing to carve.

“Inscriptum.”

The tip of his wand at once began to glow a fiery blue, and as he traced it gently along the stone, words began to form after it as if grooving into the hard surface of their own accord.

Remus John Lupin

1960-1981

Beloved friend and colleague

Died while protecting his friends.

When he had done, Hermione moved forward and laid a light hand on James' arm. “It's fitting.”

“Yes it is,” he agreed quietly. He placed a hand on the headstone, swallowing hard. “I wish I could give you better thanks than mere words Remus, my old friend, but they're all I have... You deserve so much more, but... thank you for giving your life for my family.”

They stood for a moment more, taking in the solemnity of the moment until James finally pulled out the parchment Dumbledore had given Harry for him.

“I reckon it's time we get this over with, miracle gift or no, aye?”

Harry nodded curtly.

“You three step back,” James said, holding out his wand and pointing it at Lupin's grave. “We've no idea what will happen.”

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and moved back from James, Ron following, until they were standing on the last hill they had topped before seeing the graves, some ten metres away. Feeling slightly foolish but not completely trusting the contents of the parchment, Harry grabbed Hermione's waist and pushed her gently behind him.

She smiled a bit strangely up at him, but complied. “I'm sure it'll be alright, Harry. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have given you or your father anything that might prove dangerous-”

“Call it habit,” said Harry, smiling ruefully down at her. “And we don't know what's about to happen, do we? It could be anything.”

He glanced over to Ron, and saw he was frowning at him.

“What?”

“I don't notice you pushing me out of harm's way or anything.”

Harry stared at him for a moment and then snorted derisively. “Sorry- does ickle Ronnie need protecting?”

At once, Hermione looked offended. “Oh, but ickle Hermy does, is that it? I reckon you two don't recall how far you would have got in any situation without me by your thick sides-”

They ignored her.

“Sod off,” Ron scowled back at Harry over Hermione's head. “Who did Professor Trelawny divine was the defense part of our 'triangle', huh? It's the principle of the thing, Harry-”

“-never would have found a single clue if not for me setting you both on the right path all the time-”

“So, in 'principle' you want me to hold you until the danger's over, aye? Right then, come here-”

“OY! Gerroff me you giant pile of-”

“You can both get off me! Or haven't you noticed I'm standing right between you!?”

Harry grinned. “We've noticed.”

“-only wish Lav was here, that'd be a right sandwich-”

“Ronald Weasley!”

“Alright, you three?” James threw back at them, waiting for their consent to begin.

Starting a bit, the three stopped bickering at once and looked over at James who was squinting over at them with a small smile on his face. For a very brief, very foolish moment, Harry had almost forgot where they were or what they were supposed to be doing. He stared down at the two gravestones and at his father, and realised that the heaviness that had settled on him moment they had arrived at this place was strangely less evident. He looked fondly over at Ron and Hermione who were both avoiding James' gaze and looking extremely sheepish, and a surge of happiness that he was still alive and present in the world began to run through Harry's veins like it never had before. He smiled thankfully down at his mother's grave, glanced gratefully at Ron and Hermione, and called out to his father.

“All set, dad. Sorry. Go ahead.”

For a moment Hermione again glowered up at Harry, but forgave him at once as she watched James turned back round to face the graves. She grabbed onto Harry's hand, squeezing it very tightly. To his side, Harry could almost feel Ron stiffen with excitement.

Up ahead of them and still smiling despite himself, having been suddenly reminded of a very similar group of friends he had had not long ago, James took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He pointed his wand at Lupin's grave, steadied himself, and began to recite the words written on the parchment aloud.

“Pati vicis desino. Esti letum dissocio nost bicorpus, pati quondam eveni denuo. Pati adaeque natura nunquam transformis.”

Nothing seemed to happen. No blue light issued from the tip of his wand.

The brook nearby continued to babble into the pond. Other than that, all was silent.

Seconds ticked by. James continued to clutch the parchment containing the incantation in one hand, while holding his wand aloft in the other, as if he was hoping the spell that was to issue from it might have somehow been delayed. A soft breeze continued to waft in from the north, again harvesting little purple petals from the surrounding heather and lifting them in the air in front of them. Still, no flash of blue light issued from the end of James' wand; nothing extraordinary happened at all save for the fact that a flock of birds perched in the nearest tree took wing and flew off.

Harry frowned. It was as if his father had not spoken a thing. He guessed he had expected some immediate rush of wind, a mad changing of the sky's colour, a life changing event...

James lowered his wand and turned his back on the graves, sighing.

“Well, Sybil did say it might not work, didn't she? Whatever it was- I don't reckon we should have got our hopes up-”

And a low rumbling from the ground answered James' words, sounding like a far off, but steadily approaching train. Harry felt the earth tremble beneath his feet, the swaying heather surrounding them all now rocking back and forth enough that even more soft dried heads of flowers popped free and whirled about in the air, thicker than ever. Abruptly he realised Ron and Hermione now had their wands out, their eyes instinctively sweeping the surrounding area as if waiting for some attack.

“What is this- some sort of earthquake!?” Ron said aloud, his fingers twitching nervously around the handle of his wand.

Hermione grabbed onto Harry's arm as a particularly hard tremble shook the ground. “At the same time Harry's father spoke the incantation? I doubt it...”

“What the bloody-” Harry's mouth gaped open and he pointed ahead at his father. “Look there.”

James, seeing the sudden change of expression on his son's face, whipped about and stared at Remus Lupin's grave, his wand pointed again, prepared for any eventuality. A large fracture had started at the top of the headstone, cracking it's way down through the newly etched words on the polished front and continuing on in a lightning shaped pattern until it reached the ground. The dried earth began splitting as well, a gaping crack wending its crooked way forward from the headstone on until it had reached where James was standing. Then as abruptly as it had begun, the cracking stopped and the trembling earth was still again.

No one moved. All four were shocked into silence.

And suddenly, a blue glow began to shine upward from the crack beneath James' feet as if someone below had switched a light on; a soft humming emanating from the same source. His first instinct was to run away from it, but something about the warm way it shone kept James rooted to the spot. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, Dumbledore had wanted him to experience it, and he knew the old man would never have given him anything harmful.

A soft, whitish dust began to rise from the crack, glowing a hazy blue in the light, and lifting lazily upward until it had reached about the height of James' head. He watched it with wide eyes as it drifted forward and began to envelope him in slow rotating circles, allowing it to swallow him whole; a tingling such as he had never felt before prickling all over his body like thousands of tiny needles.

At once Harry made to rush forward but a restraining hand from Hermione stopped him.

“Wait. Wait, Harry. Look what's happening. He's still standing; he's not being hurt...”

Harry's vision of his father quickly became completely obscured by the large amount of glowing dust that swirled about him, almost looking as if some new magical tornado had swooped down to envelope James alone. With each passing moment it swirled faster and faster, the tiny particles becoming a blur and the slight humming coming from the grave sounding louder and louder with each rotation. The blue was becoming brighter, the soft azure now mixing with what looked like a brilliant yellow, one so vivid it made Harry's eyes water. He could not see his father at all, but the fact he was still standing in the middle of the dual-blue coloured whirlwind must mean, like Hermione had said, that he was not being harmed.

The tornado began to slow, though just a bit. The multicoloured dust now seemed to be separating according to colour, the yellow particles now sweeping outward and downward, and disappearing through the crack over Lupin's grave in a rush of bright colour. The blue particles remained, swirling slower and slower with each rotation.

The large crack that had ended at James' feet began to re-seal itself, the earth sewing itself back together until even the defaced stone of Lupin's grave melted back together again, making it look as if it had never been damaged. The humming continued.

Harry could now see through the lazily swirling particles surrounding his father. He could see his form, the back of his head, though... Something was off. He seemed just a bit taller. The straight, light brown hair he had come to associate with Remus Lupin, and then his father, was not straight or brown at all. Instead it had become a bit longer, thicker, and very untidy, with streaks of grey marring its otherwise coal black colour, one piece sticking straight up at the back exactly how Harry's own did...

Harry jerked backward involuntarily, his eyes widening. Hermione stood very still.

Ron looked from James' form ahead and back to Harry, his voice coming out in almost a reverent whisper. “Bloody hell.”

The azure blue was absorbing into James' body. The particles were lighting on his skin, melting inward, and for a moment it looked as if Harry's own father was glowing, until the light began to fade. Quite abruptly the strange humming sound snapped out of existance, and there was no light left at all save the last orange and pink beams of the afternoon sun.

All was silent.

James whipped around but did not look at the three on the hill. He was looking downward at his hands, ones which were suddenly different, a bit more olive in skin tone, and devoid of the many scars he had acquired on nights he had not taken his wolfsbane potion, though upon turning his right one over he saw a long faded scar running the length of his palm...

Sirius and I... our blood pact...

He yanked up one of his sleeves and stared down at his arm. The scar Lucius Malfoy had given him at Hogwarts on the night he had attacked him and stolen some of his blood was gone. He reached inside his shirt and ran a hand across his chest and stomach. Ridged scars that should have been there from the night four years ago that he and Sirius had fought as werewolf and animagus were gone as well, though one odd scar remained on his chest, in the exact same spot he remembered being gashed by a rock in sixth year, having taken a nasty fall from his broom during a particularly rough Quidditch game... Very slowly, his hands strayed up to his face. Remus Lupin's nose had had a very small bump in the middle of it. His nose however, now felt smooth, though a bit longer. No more long-ago healed gashes marred his face. His eyebrows felt different, his lips a bit fuller... A shock wave of realisation rattled through him. He looked up suddenly to see his son staring at him, Harry's hands shakily probing his own face as if verifying that an older version of himself was indeed standing before him, but with, as Harry had thought during his fifth year upon seeing his father in Snape's pensieve, 'deliberate mistakes'.

Hermione and Ron were staring down at James, completely transfixed.

With one long look at the three James whipped about and took off at a run, headed toward the pond he and Harry had played in so long ago.

With only a moments hesitation, Harry took off after him, Hermione and Ron following.

When the three reached him, out of breath, he was already on his knees and bent very closely over the water's edge, staring at his own wavering reflection and fingering his face with awe.

“My god... my god is this real?... How in Godric's name did he... Oh my god... I'm not a werewolf... I'm not a werewolf any more! I'll never be one again! I'll never have to take wolfsbane again!” He laughed aloud, and then sobered again just as quickly, still staring at his reflection in the water, touching his nose, his eyes... “But how can I look how I should now? Twenty one years old... My body was twenty one when Remus took it with him... but I'm not... I'm me... I'm me how I should look now...”

Harry stood back further than them all, not speaking.

Hermione moved forward and bent down to snatch the forgotten piece of parchment from the ground where James had dropped it, her eyes eagerly scanning over the words. Her mouth dropped open. “The ending here- Pati adaeque natura nunquam transformis. It means 'may it be as if the natural was never altered'.” She stared at the back of James head, her face set with wonder. “So the incantation didn't actually switch you back, per se, it simply made it as if you'd never switched in the first place.”

James stood up, his face still set with awe. “But if the incantation made it as if we had never switched, then it would've been me who really died that night, and not Remus-”

“No one can come back from the dead,” Hermione interjected quickly, her face set with awe upon seeing how much Harry resembled James. “Besides, I don't think the spell could change those events of the past which were normal or natural. I don't think there's any spell or magical object that powerful save the time turner, and even then the user has to be the one who changes things. I think it was just able to correct certain aspects of the past which weren't 'of nature', or 'natural' in the first place, like your switched bodies. You were born with the body you're in now... Remus Lupin was born with the other. And the spell did use the word 'natural', as in, 'make it as if the natural was never altered'. It never said, change the past. It's simple really-”

“Simple... sure,” said Ron, his gaze switching from Harry to James and back again. He looked over at Hermione. “And once again we're reminded you're probably the only swot in school who's studied Latin.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Don't be stupid, Ron. I know for a fact Ravenclaw has a whole Latin club. And if I hadn't studied up on it, you and Harry would still be stuck back wondering over Professor Trelawny's predictions this year.”

“We'd have figured them out eventually; that's what books are for,” scowled Ron.

“As if you've ever actually used those,” Hermione responded scathingly, her eyes back on the parchment.

“Oy!” Said Harry in a mock-offended voice.

Ron glared at her. “We have actually, when you were taken last year. 'Course who needs to worry about books when you've got a walking, talking library by your side every second of the day.”

“That's true you know,” said Harry.

Hermione looked up from the incantation, her eyes flashing. “And like I've said before, if I wasn't by your thick sides every single step of the way these past seven years, you two would've accomplished exactly nothing-”

“Ho, ho!” Ron stepped back and jabbed a finger in her direction. “I reckon you don't recall being petrified by the basilisk during second year, then! Harry and I worked out where Ginny had been taken all on our own, didn't we?! Harry fought Voldemort all on his own! You were nowhere near-”

“That was one time! And Harry found that piece of parchment in my hand, remember? I was the one who figured out the basilisk was getting round school through the pipes. You'd have never known to go looking in Moaning Myrtle's loo for the entrance to the chamber if not for me. Anyway, this is ridiculous-”

“Don't forget fourth year,” Harry said quickly. “Neither of you were with me for that one.”

“That's right!” Ron seized on it and whirled back on Hermione. “Harry was on his own then too, miss 'you two are too thick to ever get along without me'. How do you explain that-”

“-hardly the point, Ronald. We weren't trying to figure something out then, were we? Harry touched a portkey. He was transported away. It wasn't as if there was some mystery involved we were trying to solve-”

“Exactly,” said Ron, triumphantly. “You've just made my point. Unless there's some mystery to solve, Harry and I do just fine without you. The end. Now-”

“Well actually it was Hermione and I who went back in time third year to save Sirius,” said Harry. “You were in hospital with your leg bandaged, Ron.”

“I rather think you've all had a hand in helping-” began James in a placating voice, but Harry shook his head side to side just a fraction, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“That's right!” Hermione exclaimed triumphantly, whirling on Ron, anything James had said already lost in the excitement of the argument. “And that time there was little to no mystery to solve! We already knew what was going to happen, and Professor Dumbledore sent Harry and I to save Buckbeak and Sirius-”

“Right.. that's right,” said Harry, moving slowly over toward his father.

Ron scoffed at her. “That time was only because I was hurt and couldn't go in your place.”

“How do you get you would have been chosen to go in my place!?” Hermione demanded, sounding stung. “There were several times when Harry wanted to jump out of hiding and do something rash, and it was only me who let him in on what a bad idea it was! Professor Dumbledore knew I would understand the importance of not being seen-”

“-and that was only because you'd already been using the time turner all year, and he'd told you what might happen if you-”

“-and if you'd been there with Harry, I've no doubt you would've both been seen and given away everything, which would've been disastrous-”

“Oy! You've no way of knowing that! And wasn't it me who led you two under the Whomping Willow in the first place? You would've never known Sirius wasn't a murderer if you hadn't followed me down there.”

“He did, that's right,” Harry interjected. Hermione glared at him. He threw up his hands in surrender. She turned back on Ron.

“Followed you down there!? You were dragged down there Ronald, if you'll recall, and Sirius was the one who dragged you! Harry and I followed you down there to get you away from the 'grim'!”

“We found Peter Pettigrew, didn't we? And who made that happen? Me!”

“You didn't make it happen, you git! Has your brain gone soft!? It was Sirius who figured out Scabbers was really Pettigrew! He's the one who changed him back over to a wizard, you didn't want him touched! And all because you didn't realise your rat was an Animagus! Honestly, a twelve year old rat, Ron!”

“He wasn't an ordinary rat, Hermione-”

“He wasn't,” Harry agreed, edging away.

“That's right, he was an animagus for Godric's sake!”

“True,” said Harry.

“You didn't know he was, either!”

“I didn't live with him practically my whole life either, did I!? You, however, did!”

“True again-”

“You tell me how I was supposed to know my rat was some dark servant of-”

His hands jammed in his pockets and smiling slightly to himself, Harry moved slowly away from the two and left them to their bickering, feeling slightly more sorry for Ron than he did for Hermione. He reached his father and motioned with his head for them to walk away. Neither Hermione nor Ron noticed.

Once they had got far enough around the small pond that Hermione and Ron's bickering was nothing but muted background noise, James spoke up, barely suppressing a grin.

“Well, that wasn't very nice of you.”

Harry still had not brought himself to look his father properly in the face. He stared at the ground as they walked, smirking. “Maybe not. But if ever I want them distracted for a bit, the easiest thing to do is help them along with their arguing.”

“Not get them arguing?”

“They don't need help with that,” said Harry. “I just sometimes keep it going, is all.” He grinned, cheshire-like. “And to think there were some in school who thought those two would start dating.”

James looked over toward Ron and Hermione, who were still shouting at one another round the bend of the lake. “Those two? They remind me of how Sirius and Lily used to argue. They'd kill each other.”

“I know,” said Harry, smiling.

“Besides,” said James, looking back at Harry. “From what I've seen, Hermione loves you more than life itself. I think I've known it ever since I saw you two in your third year, young as you were.”

Harry shuffled his feet for a moment, his cheeks growing warm. “I know. I feel the same way.”

James smiled at him for a moment, until his expression grew a bit more solemn. “Harry, please look at me, son.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked up at his father. Even as they were when he had seen James in Snape's pensieve in fifth year, he and his father were still within an inch of each other's heights. James looked so much like Harry himself, only a bit different and obviously older, that Harry felt as if he were staring into some slightly skewed funhouse mirror.

“It's almost too eerie for me,” said James, feeling a bit awkward. “I can only imagine how it must be for you. Thinking all those years I was dead, only to find I'd switched bodies with Remus, and now... Well now, I'm here... I'm alive... and I'm how I should look as if none of it had ever happened.”

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. With Hermione and Ron by his side he was sheltered a bit from his true feelings. Now, facing them without distractions, he felt odd... almost displaced from reality... He was standing near the place where it had all happened, not twenty yards from where his mother, and who he had thought was his father, were buried. Yet here he was staring at his father, who had revealed not long ago that he was, in fact, not dead but trapped in a friend's body, and who now, suddenly, was no longer trapped in said body but was back in his own, looking as if he had never left it in the first place or that it had died at twenty one.

These things were strange, hard things to grasp at best, it was true, and yet they were not the oddest thing he was encountering or feeling. The strangest thing of all was the decrease of pounding anxiety and worry within him, two things which had been such a regular part of his very being for as long as he could remember that they had almost seemed part of what made Harry, well... Harry. Now everything was different. Now, Voldemort was dead. The war was over. He, Hermione, Ron, Sirius and his father had all made it out alive, (though Dumbledore had not). He was almost done with school. He did not have to live with the Dursleys ever again. He was free from almost everything that had caused him distress and anxiety for his entire seventeen years of existence. However, by no means did he think everything was suddenly better. He knew that. He understood that he would probably be scarred for a very long time, if not forever, over what had transpired during his short life thus far, though somehow, now he felt as if now some chapter had ended in the book of his life and he was inexplicably starting over, as if his life was split into different sections and he was now on volume two.

“Almost makes you feel as if you've travelled to some alternate universe where things never went wrong, but you've still got the scars from when they did, aye?” Said James.

Harry had to admit this was exactly how he felt.

“Yeah... yeah it does.”

“I feel the same way,” said James, shoving his hands into his pockets. He paused before speaking again. “You know, this is exactly why your mother did what she did for you... why she gave her life for you... the hope that someday you would be able to live happy. We used to sit up at night and talk for hours about what we hoped you'd become when you were grown... what sort of life you'd lead. We knew you were destined to be great... I think everyone did, even before Voldemort gave you that scar,” he paused again, looking sad. “But Harry, we never knew what you would have to go through to achieve that greatness, what you would have to sacrifice, or what we would. Neither one of us wanted you to live this horror you've known as a 'life'-”

“It's not your fault. I don't blame you,” said Harry quickly, looking concerned. “At least I don't... I mean, I'm not... Gods, if mum hadn't done what she did I wouldn't be alive at all... I'd never have the chance to really live, even if it did take up to now to be able to do it.”

James nodded. “She knew the protection she was giving you; make no mistake. She was as bright as your Hermione over there,” he said, smiling and pointing over to Ron and Hermione, who were now both staring over to where Harry and his father were, Hermione with her hands on her hips, looking disapproving as if she now knew what Harry had done. James smiled and turned back to his son. “Your mother gave her life for you so you could have one of your own.”

Harry nodded, staring at the ground. “I know that... I know.”

James stared at him. “Then I hope you know she'd do it again if she had to... and if given the chance, so would I. Your mother did what she did because she loved you, and so do I, and not because you've somehow earned it, but because you're my son. You won't ever have to worry about earning my love, Harry, or trying to deserve it. You've got it no matter what you do. Even if you didn't return it, it wouldn't matter. You didn't grow up that way, I know, and I know it's hard for you to take in, but Harry... this is how parents, real parents, feel for their children. This is how I feel for you. This is how your mother felt for you; how she still feels for you wherever she is. Don't you ever feel guilty for what your mother did. She gave herself willingly because she loved you, and if I'd been there that night, and I wish I had, I would've done the same thing... for her, and for you.”

Harry nodded, his eyes still scanning the ground, though they were rimmed with tears.

James decided in an instant not to make his son any more uncomfortable and hitched a small smile on his face.

“And I hope you know I'm still me, after all this. Strange as this is, I haven't changed, I'm still the person you knew in Remus Lupin's body. I'm not someone you haven't met before because I look different. I understand this makes things really strange, but I think I understand why Dumbledore gave this to me, and I think it goes beyond my no longer having to worry about the full moon.”

Harry smiled at that and squinted up at his father, feeling slightly ashamed of the tears drying on his face. “What d'you think, then?”

James sighed. “It just connects us even more, doesn't it? I mean, there's no mistaking you're my son or I'm your father, now. I think maybe the old man thought this might bring us even closer together, or somehow help you along with the fact that I am really your dad,” and suddenly, James sobered a bit. “But I'm not trying to push you son. I'm not trying to make you feel that we have to be close all of a sudden-”

“I don't think that,” said Harry with a slight smile. “But I do think you're right. I think that's exactly something he would've done.”

Harry shoved his hands tightly in his pockets and stared out at the pond, shifting from one foot to the other, and completely unaware of the fact that his father and he had taken the same protective stance in their discomfort and were now looking more like each other than ever. A soft wind from the north breezed in again, making the early evening's chill evident and rustling the nearby pines. Tall patches of heather swayed around the pond, the water along its edge rippling slightly in the wind. The last bright rim of the sun sank below the horizon, it's pinkish orange beams now blending with a dusky purple, and outlining the sky in a darker shade.

An awkward silence had fallen between Harry and his father, neither quite sure how to break it, though this time it was Harry who finally did, squinting a bit reservedly over at his father as he spoke.

“I'll bet you are chuffed not having to worry about the full moon any more though, aye?”

James smirked, seizing on the conversation. “What's even better is not having to go to old Snivellus for my potions any more.”

Harry grinned at the thought of how Snape would react upon catching sight of a 'renewed' James, most of his awkwardness fading with the prospect of sharing abuse of the Potion's Master. “Merlin, this'll ruin his weekend. I can't wait to see his face now you're back properly... And I'll bet he's loved having you owe him for brewing up your wolfsbane-”

“Oh yeah... Yeah, this'll be a black day for Snivellus,” said James, chuckling at the look of wicked depravity on his son's face. “Just wait until he catches sight of Sirius and I standing together, just like old times...”

Harry's grin faded slightly. “Like old times?”

“Oh, we won't take the piss out of him like before,” said James, his eyes happily gleaming with a far away look. “You've got to understand we were only fifteen then, and Snape gave as good as he got, Harry. Besides, you only got to see one biased side of it from that pensieve. I've no doubt he chose to forget the many times he deserved what he got. But no... No, adult forms of torture call for a bit more subtlety-”

Harry frowned. “Just exactly what do you mean by torture?”

James snapped back to the present and grinned wickedly at Harry. “There are much subtler ways of fixing a person than showing off their greying knickers, Harry. But no worries; Sirius and I've no intention of reverting to cruelty, I assure you... there's just a bit of overdue payback in order. Anyway, I rather think you should be worrying about that girlfriend of yours over there. She looks a bit miffed if you ask me.”

Harry turned to look at Hermione, who was still staring over at him with her lips tightly pursed and her arms wound tightly over her chest, tapping her foot.

Harry chuckled. James clapped him firmly on the back as they began their ways back around the pond toward them.

“Just turn on the Potter charm, son- that'll sort her out.”

Harry snorted at him. “It's obvious you don't know Hermione very well.”

“No, I don't,” said James, smiling, “not yet. But I've got the rest of my life to learn all about her now, don't I? About you too... And I've got a load of people to thank for that, I'd say.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

The closer to Hermione he got, the more her expression made Harry wince. Even Ron was standing back a bit, though he looked amused.

Once they got within hearing distance, Hermione dropped her arms, one eyebrow raised and began to stomp toward him.

“Harry James Potter-”

Harry inhaled deeply. “Look, Hermione... I just wanted to speak to Dad alone-”

“No excuse to keep Ron and I fighting so you could sneak off with him! You could've just said something, you know. It isn't as if we'd have stopped you, for Merlin's sake!”

“This was the most effective way,” said Harry, grinning, knowing full well that would set her off. He pinched one of her reddening cheeks.

Hermione scowled at him and slapped his hand away. “I'll show you effective-”

James, standing beside Ron, gave the younger man a nudge. “So much like Lily it's downright frightening.”

Ron goggled disbelievingly at him. “Then I honestly don't know how you did it.”

James laughed aloud. “Eh... It's all in whether you're right for each other. I can see pretty clearly those two are. They'll sort it out.”

“Oh, I know they'll sort it out,” said Ron, his gaze landing back on them again, watching Harry grin as Hermione ranted. “He's the only one who really knows how to handle her.”

“And she him?” Asked James. “I've no doubt Harry can be a handful, if he's as hotheaded as I was at his age.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ron, his head moving back and forth between Harry and Hermione as if watching a particularly entertaining tennis match. “Harry's a 'heat of the moment' sort of person, you know. Ready to jump and run with the first bit of information we get. I suppose I'm the same way... Anyway, Hermione sort of calms him long enough to sort things out properly before we run off. I've no doubt we would've been killed on half the things we blundered through if it weren't for her.”

James looked at him. “I don't suppose you could've acknowledged that to her. Might've spared you a fight today if you'd only told her-”

“Hell no,” Ron grinned, laughing aloud as Hermione wagged her finger in Harry's face. “No, I rather enjoy it. She's too fun when you've got her all pissed off. She gets angry about it but secretly she likes it too. It's more fun fighting with her than it is Ginny... Well... Ginny would hit me, but you know... It's all relative.”

James snorted at that. “Well, I think we should head toward the car, don't you?”

Ron frowned and gestured toward Harry and Hermione. “But shouldn't we...”

“No,” smiled James. “No, we'll let them figure it out on their own. Besides, Harry looks as if he's having too much fun to spoil it. You head on to the car, I'll be there in a tic.”

Ron agreed and began tromping back across the field toward the car. James headed over to Remus and Lily's graves and stood staring at them for a moment. He walked behind Lily's and brushed a hand over the headstone before moving around it, his eyes briefly landing on his son and Hermione, who were standing some yards away, still engrossed in their 'discussion'. He walked around the graves to stand in front of Lily's.

“I miss you love, more than you'll ever know... I wish you were here.” He turned to glance at Harry. “But look what you've done for your son. He's still here. He's come over the hump and onto the other side. He's in love and he's happy, Lily. You did that.” He sighed, the words forming a lump in his throat and knelt down before the headstone, his head bowed. “I'll never forgive myself for leaving you that night, love. Never... But I promise you I'll never leave our son again. I'll love him and be here for him as long as he'll let me. I swear it, Lily... I swear it... and... and I hope you're happy wherever you are. I hope you're filled with joy over seeing your son alive and set to live his life, the way you always wanted him to.”

James stood, and this time, he looked up to the sky.

“I'll always miss you...” he smiled. “Someday Lily... someday you're going to turn around and there I'll be, standing right in front of you as if we'd never been apart... Wait for me, will you?”

The breeze picked up again. A silvery moon danced out from behind purple edged clouds, illuminating the area around him in patches and taking special care to shine down over the gravestones James stood near. He smiled.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

For a moment he continued to look up at the sky, imagining Lily was looking down on him with a smile. With tears welling in his eyes he moved away from the graves, walked a wide circle around Harry and Hermione so they would not see him, and made his way back across the field.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hermione-”

“I simply can't believe you, Harry. You know how much I hate to argue-”

“You!?” said Harry incredulously. “I think you draw energy from it-”

“What!? What an awful thing to say!” Hermione blustered. “As if I I'd rather disagree with someone than have a pleasant conversation with-”

“Let me finish,” said Harry, popping his hand over her mouth and chuckling as she continued to mumble beneath it. “And... I think it's one of the cutest things about you. It's one of the many reasons I love you... simply because you're you. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Hermione's mouth stopped moving beneath his hand. She placed her hands on her hips as he moved his hand away, narrowing her eyes up at him as if scrutinising him.

“I hope you know this doesn't mean you're let off the hook...”

“ 'Course not,” said Harry, snaking his arms around her waist.

“Because I recognise a smooth line when it's thrown at me-”

“ 'Course you do,” said Harry, drawing her body flush against his, his face inching closer to hers.

“And if I wanted to,” said Hermione, a bit more breathlessly, “I could... I could be angry with you for the rest of the night. You'd certainly deserve it, wouldn't you?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry, his lips only a centimetre from hers. His eyes moved up to her own; glinting green on dark brown. “So why don't you?”

“Because... because in principle it wouldn't be right to kiss you now,” she said, her lips brushing his, light as a breeze. “And I really want to.”

“In principle...” Harry grinned and nodded. “That's right.” He moved to crush his lips to hers but Hermione suddenly pulled back, looking round them.

“But we can't!” She hissed, staring back at Harry. “Ron and your dad-”

“Left us alone a few minutes ago,” said Harry with a bit of frustration, pulling her back against him again.

“Left us alone... where did they go? We should probably-”

“I'm sure they went back to the car to wait for us,” said Harry, moving so that his lips now brushed her ear. He felt her melt against him and smiled. “Do you know how long I've wanted to be able to kiss you without a load of worry clouding my mind?”

Hermione smiled up at the sky. “How long?”

Harry moved his lips nearer hers so that he now spoke against her mouth. “Forever.”

“Me too,” said Hermione, and she let him claim her mouth.

Oh gods, but that one act was going to be his undoing, Harry thought to himself. The feel of Hermione's soft lips beneath his was intoxicating, her wild hair brushing against his cheek, her hands roaming over the hard plains of his back, her firm breasts pressed against his chest, shapely belly pressed intimately against his hips... It had been so long since they had been able to share a proper kiss; since they had been able to share almost anything...

His tongue was dipping and sliding so sensuously against her own, his body pressed so deliciously into hers, that Hermione felt she might spontaneously combust right there, under the moon and stars with only Harry as her witness. His mouth was like a drug, leaving her feeling fuzzy round the edges and wanting more. It was exhilarating to know there was now nothing holding them back from truly loving each other the way they wanted, to know that all of the obstacles which had kept them so filled with anxiety and unsure of their futures were gone... and yet, something very real told Hermione this was not the time or place to let go with Harry. She pulled back from him.

“Harry...”

Harry barely heard her, deciding at once to let his lips trail from her lips to her cheek and over to her ear, sucking the soft lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the shell, his hands smoothing lower over her back to land on her rear, gently squeezing, pulling her closer to him, gently grinding his hips into hers...

Hermione swayed into him, and then found herself again.

“Harry... wait, Harry...”

He whispered into her ear, his breath on her sensitive shell making her shiver.

“What?”

Hermione found the strength to pull out of his embrace long enough to compose her thoughts.

“Look where we are.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, and then began to understand what she was eluding to.

“I'm alright though. I don't need to... I mean.. I mean I'm coming to terms with it-”

“But you've never talked with her, love. You need to talk with her before we leave,” said Hermione gently. She moved closer and placed a hand on Harry's cheek. “You need time alone with her, Harry... time alone here.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell Hermione that his mother was not there in the ground... that it was only her body under the headstone... that he had always felt that to talk with her, all he needed to do was look to the sky, and that he did not have to be here in this old haunt to be with her... but somehow, the words did not come. He stared at Hermione, bathed by the white-silver of the moon, stared at the gravestones that he had never visited before, and knew she was right. He would not be coming back here again. Tonight, he would be leaving behind the physical things that represented his old life. He needed to say goodbye to all of it... He needed to say goodbye to the ghost of what had been, and the spectre of what he had always wished had been. He needed it to be able to move on.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed the hand Hermione had placed on his cheek, turning it over to kiss the palm.

“I know.”

Hermione smiled at him. She pulled him forward into a brief kiss again, and then looked up into his eyes.

“I'll be waiting for you just over the hill, alright?”

Harry nodded and watched her walk away until the rolling hills obscured her from his vision.

He turned toward his mother and Remus Lupin's graves and crammed his hands into his pockets, stubbing the toe of his shoe along the ground. What could he say that would ever be good enough? What sentiment could he share with his mother that would ever compare with what she had done for him? Harry felt inadequate to talk with her, almost stupid for thinking to thank her. How could he properly thank his mother for giving her life for him? What words could he express to make her understand that he knew how much she had sacrificed? How could he ever tell her what she had done for him, when he himself did not understand and could not comprehend the sort of love she had had for him? The sort of love that feels anything is worth sacrificing if only to keep the other happy and safe? The sort that thought so much of the other, that death was preferable to keep the other from being hurt?

And then Harry thought of Hermione. He thought of how he had not thought twice about sacrificing himself for her when Voldemort had threatened to kill her if Harry did not come to meet him alone.

He began to understand. It was not the head that loved, with rationalisations and thoughts of one's own self, it was the heart. With a start, he realised that his heart had become so full of Hermione that it left no room for his own self interest. It was this that helped him understand his mother's sacrifice. It was this that enabled him to speak with her.

“I love you, mum. I always will... I don't know what to say but thank you,” His throat constricted. Harry swallowed hard, shifting from one foot to the other and feeling that his mother was there somehow, watching him and listening. “I hope I've made you proud... I hope I've never taken your love or your sacrifice for granted or ever made it seem that way. I hope... I hope I've turned out the way you wanted me to... at least, well...” He paused, his mouth working. “I mean I know parents want things for their children and I... I hope I've not disappointed you. I hope I never disappoint you, mum. I want to make you proud. I want to... I want to live happy now. I want to put things behind me and move forward...” Harry then looked up at his mother's headstone and added very quickly, “But not because I want to forget you! I never... I couldn't ever forget you, I just... I just want.. to be able to... Now that Voldemort is gone I want to live happy, not just for me, but for you too. I know it's what you wanted; dad told me. He said it's what you two always talked about... So I want to do it for you, too. I'm going to work hard to put it all behind me, I promise, mum. I hope... I hope you believe me. I hope you know I love you, even though I didn't get the chance to know you. Dad says you're so much like Hermione it's frightening,” Harry smiled. “If that's true then I feel like I do know you... And I feel like you know her. I love her, mum. I'm going to marry her. And it makes me happy to know I'm marrying someone who is so much like you. I know you would like her. I wish you could've met her, but... but somehow I know you see us, and I've got a feeling you would approve.”

Harry moved forward to smooth his hand over the rounded part of the headstone, his chest tight with emotion.

“I... I don't know what else to say, except, I love you.” He looked up to the sky, the moon full and outlining the clouds in a dark blue. “I'll always wish you were here... but I know you're up there watching us... me and dad... and I'll never forget you mum. Never. And someday I'll meet you, I know it... Will you watch for me?”

The breeze picked up. Bunches of heather swayed as one entity, their bodies bending to the night and brushing softly against Harry's legs. Pine trees clapped tiny needle hands, bows raising toward the sky as if lifting Harry's words to heaven for him. The moon smiled at him from above, her light bright and unfading.

Harry smiled back. “I'll take that as a yes.”

With that, he leaned down, kissed the top of his mother's headstone, and turned to make his way back toward the car.

**********************************************************

A/N: Well I think you all probably want to kill me for the long wait. I don't blame you. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope I incorporated relief, sadness, nostalgia, happiness and humour in it well enough that you see what this chapter was about, and why it was so hard to write! I hope you aren't too angry with me... go easy on me about the long wait, please! Lol. And as always, let me know what you think.

Also want to let you guys know what the incantation James spoke means. Very loosely, it means, “Allow the switch (interchange) to end. Even though (notwithstanding) death divide our bodies, allow what once was (the former), to be so (occur), again (anew). May (allow) it be as if (like) the natural was never altered.)” Of course this is not perfect Latin or sentence structure, mind you, because I don't know Latin and got this off of a website.

OH! And I dedicate this chapter to Kiki, aka Kikilovesyou, and Sean, aka Syustat, who've been such faithful, wonderful, insightful, detailed, and persistent(!) reviewers that I wanted to give a shout out to them. Thanks you guys!

40. Chapter 40: Remembrance

Chapter 40: Remembrance

“The Dead” by Rupert Brooke

I

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!

There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,

But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

These laid the world away; poured out the red

Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be

Of work and joy, and that unhoped serenity

That men call age; and those who would have been,

Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,

Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.

Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,

And paid his subjects with a royal wage;

And Nobleness walks in our ways again;

And we have come into our heritage.

II

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,

And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

These had seen movement and heard music; known

Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;

Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;

Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter

And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,

Frost with a gesture, stays the waves that dance

And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white

Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,

A width, a shining peace, under the night.

The memorial for all those who died in battle fell on a day so jewel bright and warm that Harry could almost imagine Dumbledore himself was controlling it from above, perhaps chuckling to himself at how purposefully inappropriate he'd made it. For Harry, it was strange, to say the least, that only day before yesterday he was standing near the cabin where he had grown up, facing his mother's grave for the first time and watching his father get his body back, and now he was on his way to a collective funeral and memorial to honour those who had died in the war fought only a week earlier in the Forest of Kavan... the war that had finally resulted in the real defeat of Voldemort. Media coverage of the events of the war and what had happened since had been, and continued to be, endless and abundant, though Harry had not expected anything less. Even now, as he, Hermione and Ron rolled slowly toward the cemetery in one of the many Muggle cars leading the procession, the wizarding media were either hot on their trail or already there, readying themselves for the ceremony. Once they were spotted amidst the crowd, he feared they would be besieged by reporters, all vying for personal, up-close angles on the story, and felt a pang of envy that his father and Sirius did not have to endure the intrusion as well. They were, of course, much desired to attend, especially by the media, but because Sirius had just been newly acquitted, and because even though the media now knew that Harry's father was still alive and that he had been hiding as Remus Lupin for years, they still did not know he had recently gotten his body back, the two had felt that to show up at the memorial would cause an even greater frenzy and would take away from the real purpose of it, and had regretfully decided not to attend. Though he knew it seemed rather selfish to think it, Harry rather felt they had got the better part of the deal.

The three were riding in one of the vehicles rented from 'Magicars' in Hogsmeade to take those students who would be attending the ceremony to the site. The black car they had been riding in pulled to a slow stop and parked, just one of many in a line of what appeared to be hundreds of cars, carriages, brooms stowed in broom racks, and strangely, the Knight Bus, magically expanded to six levels rather than three, already parked at the cemetery. Peering past Hermione's shoulder and out the tinted window, Harry could already make out a massive crowd of well-dressed witches and wizards forming a crude circle around, and effectively hiding, what he could only imagine was the area they were headed toward for the memorial.

The driver of their car, a fidgety old wizard with thinning grey hair by the name of Morton, who had been fighting to restrain himself from talking to them on the trip over, finally peered over his shoulder at them and spoke.

“You three'd bes' be ready. Momen' you're spotted it'll be complete 'avoc, you mark my words. I was listenin' to the WWN right before I picked you up... you're the ones they're looking forward to interviewin' most.”

On Harry's left side, Ron leaned forward with his mouth open. “Interviewing!? What the... this is a memorial service we're going to, or haven't the press been notified!?”

“Oh, they've kep' no'ified of every last detail since the war,” the driver answered him, with a note of excitement in his voice. “Ain' never 'eard nor seen the likes of it, though, what could you expect, aye? Everyone wants an exclusive wiv the ones direc'ly responsible for You-Know-'oo's final demise, an' the media ain' seen 'ide nor 'air of you as you've been able to 'ide out at 'Ogwarts. No' tha' I blame you, mind you-”

“We haven't been hiding,” Harry growled in reply.

Hermione laid a restraining hand on his arm and quickly addressed the driver. “Normally we'd have already been let out for summer, but because we got... sidetracked... well... we've still got end of the year exams to finish. We'd still be at school anyway, even if we weren't 'hiding out', which we aren't-”

“Didn' mean to imply otherwise, it's jus' the way they're paintin' it,” said the driver quickly, now downright excited to be talking to them. “Oh, an' they've jus' been cursin' Minerva McGonagoll to wiv'in an inch of 'er life for not allowin' them access to the school, but I s'pose it's bin for the best, ain' it? All of 'em vyin' wiv each other for the chance to corner you three -'specially you, Potter... well... I s'ppose we all wanna know 'ow you did it.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Did what, exactly...”

“Defeated 'im, o'course!” said the driver, now turning fully in his seat to stare in wonderment at Harry. In his excitement he didn't seem to notice Harry's expression, which was turning blacker by the second. “Everyone's 'eard you three were the ones 'oo faced 'im at the last, but no one 'oo was there 'as given much detail past the shield Albus Dumbledore made to stop you from facing 'im... all seem to clam up after that... 'cept we've all 'eard you did 'ave to face 'im alone for a good while-”

“Him...” said Harry, now positively fuming.

Ron glanced sideways at Harry and then back at the driver, a feeling of foreboding beginning to twist in his stomach. Anyone who knew Harry would have known he was about to explode.

“You-know-'oo, o'course!” the driver replied eagerly. “Ain' no one yet let it slip what 'appened afterward! Well, we all know You-know-'oo killed Dumbledore -real tragedy, that- but we don' know exac'ly what 'appened or 'ow he finally came to 'is end, or 'ow you got through that shield to face the dark lord! ...Daily Prophet's callin' you a hero... say they 'eard tell from several reliable witnesses tha' you faced 'im alone for a good while... wouldn't let your friends 'ere in to 'elp;... faced 'im off wiv a sword an' you're bare 'ands-”

“ 'Him' being Voldemort again, right?” Said Harry aloud, taking sadistic pleasure in the sudden convulsive movement the driver made upon mention of the dark lord's name. He felt Hermione put her hand on his arm again but shook it off.

“Yeah,” said the driver, somewhat breathlessly now, but still not taking the hint. “Y..yeah, 'im... Can't imagine wha' it must've been like, you an' yours facing 'im and 'is whole army down. 'Eard from reliable sources you came righ' close to losin' it for a few. Must've.. been.. somefing... fightin' the evil wizard 'oo's wanted to do you in you're 'ole bloody life. Finally 'aving an end-for-all. It's no small wonder everyone wants the details, myself included,” he finished, giving Harry what he apparently thought was an ingratiating grin.

He stared expectantly at Harry for a moment, but after a few moments of stony silence, the smile began to slide from his lips.

“W..well... but... but I don' suppose you want to be talkin' about all that, aye? Not after all you three've been thr-”

“So you want to know how Albus Dumbledore died, is that it?” said Harry finally, his voice hard and cold. “Or maybe you want to know how Voldemort had me on the ground trying hard as he could to run me through, telling me the whole time he was going to kill everyone I cared about?”

Hermione moaned quietly. “Harry, don't-”

“Wha'? N..no... No, I didn't...” The driver looked horrified, his jaw moving up and down. “Look, I'm sorry, I jus' wanted... everyone wants to know 'ow.. 'ow you done it, not jus' me-”

“C'mon Harry, let's just go,” Ron mumbled, beginning to open the door on his side of the car.

“No, wait Ron. Let's let him on in what he missed,” said Harry more loudly through gritted teeth, leaning forward in his seat.

“Harry, please,” intoned Hermione, opening her door as well and grabbing his arm. He ignored her.

“So you want to know what a field of dead bodies looks like, aye? Or what it's like to watch people you've known for years die right in front of you? Or what it's like to actually kill someone?”

“N..no! No, I jus' meant-”

“How about what it's like to find out someone you've trusted for years has kept it secret from you he's related to you, only to lose him a couple of days later!?”

“Harry-”

“Let's get out, mate-”

“Or how it feels to know you're only a second from dying and from letting everyone in the whole world down because of some piece-of-shit prophecy you're crackpot teacher made about you sixteen years ago!? Or how the only people who've ever cared for you are about to lose their lives because of you!? Hey, maybe you want to ask Ron what it's like to lose a brother! Or find Draco Malfoy and ask him what it's like to have to kill you're own father! Though you might not get much detail from him as he's not been much for talking since he did it-”

“I'm sorry,” said the driver at once. “I'm sorry, Potter, you're absolutely righ'. G..go on now. Easy, there. Forget I ever said anyfing, awright? I was jus' curious... we all are. Go on, there's a good lad.”

Harry finally gave in to Hermione's desperate tugging on his arm and shrugged himself out of the car after her, slamming the door so hard behind him that all four panes of glass rattled in their settings. The driver promptly pulled away from the curb and flew back down the road again.

Clenching his fists in fury, Harry whipped around and began taking long strides down the manicured lawn toward the growing circle of solemnly-dressed witches and wizards in the near distance. Ron and Hermione hurried along after him.

“I reckon we'll be finding other means of transportation back to school then,” said Ron from behind Harry, sounding slightly irritated.

Harry came to an abrupt stop and wheeled around. “So you would have rather I sat there and let him grill me with a bunch of dumb-arsed questions!?”

“ 'Course not mate, but what else were we supposed to do?” said Ron. “Rip him a new one?”

“I was coming to that next,” Harry replied coldly.

Hermione sighed. “We were going to have to face it sooner or later, Harry... we couldn't hide at Hogwarts forever. No one except those who were there really know what it was like. They don't understand. They're simply going to be asking inappropriate things of us, and all we can do is-”

“Sit there and take it like we haven't got better things to do than get on with our lives, right?” said Harry. “Or maybe we should answer their questions honestly and watch them look horrified over what we had to do, aye?”

“You've got a point,” said Ron. “Still, we can't want to beat up everyone who asks us about it. There's going to be a fair few.”

“We can't?” said Harry, sarcastically.

“No we can't,” said Hermione, trying to sound patient. “We'll just have to try.. politely.. to make them understand that it's a painful subject, and not something we want brought up every time we're approached.”

“Well, sorry if I'm not feeling full of tact at the moment,” Harry replied angrily, turning again to march toward the huge circle of people ahead. Some had now recognised that he, Ron and Hermione were walking toward them and had begun whispering to one another. Harry did his best to ignore them. “I don't understand why people would think we want to relive it all the time, as if we aren't already reliving it every five minutes in our heads-”

“It's just as hard for me to understand,” said Hermione, catching him up and grabbing onto his hand. “But at least you've got Ron and I who understand exactly what you're feeling, Harry... We're feeling it too, or have you forgotten?”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead for a moment before slowly turning to them. ”You're right. Look... I'm sorry... I just sort of lost it with all the stupid things he said...” he paused. “I'm sorry, Hermione. Sorry I lost our ride, Ron.”

“No worries,” said Ron, peering past him at the crowd, most of whom were now staring their way, interspersed with reporters who were now fidgeting excitedly with their equipment. “Better get used to it fast, though. I've got a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at the crowd and turned back to Ron and Hermione. He took Hermione's hand in his own, nodded to Ron, and the three began making their ways forward together.

Upon reaching the back-most part of the throng, they found as of yet that they recognised almost no one. Countless relatives, friends, and admirers of the dead had shown to pay their respects, and though most either watched silently or whispered to neighbours as the three passed by, Harry felt almost as if he were on display. Reporters standing nearby seemed to be barely containing their desire to corner those who had been in the battle, and who were now out of 'hiding', and although they did not approach anyone, Harry was sure their self- control would begin to ebb away toward the end of the memorial.

The closer the three edged to the front of the crowd, where they were supposed to be for the ceremony, the more sombre faces they began recognising. Members of the Order and the Ministry, teachers and students who had gotten there before them, those they had barely met but who had fought along side them in battle, those parents and relatives of recently deceased schoolmates they had seen before at various school functions, and most distinctively, Hagrid, who was mopping his eyes, and who had settled himself near what appeared to be a giant polished, concrete memorial etched with dozens upon dozens of names, Albus Dumbledore's atop them all. Lavender Brown stood near him, holding on to one very large hand and squeezing it in consolation. She saw the three and waved them over.

Hagrid blew his nose into a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase, causing several of those standing nearby to step cautiously backward, and lowered it to see Harry, Ron and Hermione standing next to he and Lavender.

“Oh! Oh, it's you three,” he said in a sorrow-roughened voice, apparently embarrassed that he had been caught crying. “How're you holdin' up, then? You alrigh'?”

“We're fine,” said Hermione, looking up at him with some concern. “Are you alright? Has something happened?”

“Oh no.. well.. nothin' bad, tha' is,” said Hagrid, giving them a bright smile through his tears. “Actually blubberin' over somethin' good along wi' all this. Early this mornin' Olympe woke from her coma. I spen' all day fillin' her in on wha' she missed after she wen' down.”

“Oh Hagrid, that's wonderful!” cried Hermione.

Hagrid nodded. “She was sure glad ter see me. I was goin' ter stay wi' her all day bu' she told me she didn' wan' me missin' the memorial... insisted I go. She's somethin', Olympe...” he smiled reminiscently for a moment, and then continued. “She even talked Ginny and Sirius inter convincin' Draco Malfoy ter get outta bed and come too. Thought it migh' make 'im feel a bit better about what he done ter come to th' memorial and see all those he helped figh' alongside in th' war. Dunno s'much if it's helpin' but it got him outta bed, a' the very leas'.”

“Malfoy's here?” asked Ron, quickly scanning the crowd. “Where?”

Hagrid pointed one very large finger almost directly across from their part of the circle, and Ron craned his neck around the speaker and podium directly in his line of vision to see Malfoy, standing silently toward the front of the crowd, his eyes trained to the ground and Ginny holding onto his arm for support.

Harry watched Ron warily. A red flush had begin creeping its way over his cheeks and ears.

“Ron-” began Hermione, who had apparently just seen the same warning signs that Harry had.

“I know. Don't say it, Hermione, I know-”

“You can't control who she loves. She's her own person and she doesn't need you trying to-”

“I said I know, didn't I!?”

Ron was saved her reply by the loud sound of the key speaker clearing his voice. Clearly he had used a voice projection charm.

“Hello everyone... Thank you all for coming to the memorial for those who so selflessly gave their lives in the battle against...” he swallowed, “against V..Vo..Voldem..mort... and.. and against those who stood with him.”

Only a few people seemed to react upon hearing Voldemort's name mentioned. Inwardly, Harry smiled. There was something greatly satisfying in knowing that soon, there would be no one left who was afraid to say the bastard's name. It would be even more gratifying when he never heard it again.

The speaker continued, clearing his throat. “Most of us were unaware the battle even took place until afterwards. The events that have plagued our world over the past few months, I think it fair to say, have been dark, indeed. We have endured the upheaval of our society, the separation of whole families and communities, the threat of You-Know-Who's return to power, and the loss of many of our friends and relatives. We are here today to honour those who stood up, and fought against a powerful threat to our very existence. They were regular men and women, soldiers and Ministry workers, creatures, and yes, even children... “

All at once, Harry felt the eyes of many around them settle on various classmates standing nearby, and then, inevitably, on himself, Hermione and Ron, and the feeling of being on display settled back on him once again. He kept his own gaze fixed doggedly on the speaker and felt Hermione and Ron do the same. He knew they felt the same as he did. He did not want to see anyone's grateful expressions or looks of pity. He had only done what had to be done, just as those who had not made it out alive had done. He was no one extraordinary. He had not asked for fame, nor had he acted a hero, as if he had “volunteered” to be the one to kill Voldemort. The job had been thrust on him, and he had done what he had to do. He was no more special than any of the others who had died in battle to keep Voldemort from gaining power.

He glanced from the corner of his eye at those standing round him; taking in their looks of admiration, the whispers to neighbours... He wondered how they would feel about him if they knew how often he had wished the job on someone else... anyone else... how he had wished, upon going to face Voldemort, that it was anyone else but Hermione that Voldemort had fixated on to lure Harry to him... how he had wished someone else but Dumbledore had taken that sword... some unknown person... someone he would not have to mourn... how he had often wished some other boy had lost his parents to a dark wizard and gained a scar from it, or that he could be one of the many unknowns walking round him at school, living out their lives in peaceful anonymity, with not much care in the world save passing the next test...

Hermione seemed to know what he was thinking. Without looking at him, she grabbed his hand and laced her fingers with his own. Harry glanced gratefully down at her.

“These who stand here before you today, and those who died in battle- whose names will be forever etched here, and on our hearts- were willing to give their very lives so that we might live ours in peace,” the speaker continued with a wobbly voice, mopping his eyes with a handkerchief. “They were willing to die, so that we might not have to live in fear... We will never forget their sacrifice. We will never forget Albus Dumbledore, the wizard who so bravely led them... and we will never forget those witches and wizards, young and old, who put aside their fears and faced such an evil, so that we all might be free. So I thank you on behalf of all of us here, and the entire wizarding race.”

The crowd clapped as one. Those who had fought in battle alongside Harry, Hermione and Ron, looked politely embarrassed and kept their eyes trained to the ground. Past the speaker, Harry saw Ginny holding tightly to Malfoy's arm, speaking words of encouragement to him. Malfoy leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of her head. For a moment, Harry was struck at this tender showing of affection from the boy he had once thought as evil as they came... At a glance, he could see that Ron had been watching and was none too happy with it, but was somehow restraining himself from waltzing across the lawn and ripping Malfoy's head off. Perhaps it had something to do with the iron-like grip Lavender had on his arm, or whatever it was that she was whispering in his ear. In any case, it looked as if Malfoy was going to live to see another day... or at least that he wasn't going to get it at the memorial. As for tomorrow or any other day thereafter, all bets were still on.

The rest of the service progressed slowly. More people stood up to speak for the dead and those who were not there to speak for themselves due to injury. Hagrid went forward and delivered a moving speech about Dumbledore; one which brought most of the very large crowd to tears, and which confirmed to Harry just how much Hagrid had thought of the Headmaster, as if Dumbledore had been a sort of surrogate father for him after his own father died.

Directly after the memorial was announced over, as if to ruin the solemn, heartfelt atmosphere of the place, the reporters standing nearby whispered excitedly to their colleagues and began to make their ways forward to catch those who had been hidden away at Hogwarts and who, as of yet, had not been approached to give their stories. Apparently the same courtesy that had been shown during the service, was considered null and void the moment the last word was spoken. Harry and Hermione turned together and watched as teachers and students tried unsuccessfully to worm their ways unnoticed through the crowd, only to be cornered by a determined reporter and his or her entourage.

“I think we should get going you know,” said Hermione, glancing nervously around. “It won't be long before we're-”

Something poked Harry hard in the ribs. Annoyed he turned and saw Ron staring past him, a look of disbelief, mingled with the strong desire to run away on his face. Harry whipped about and strained to see what he was seeing. Soon enough, a dumpy woman in her late forties with curly dyed-blonde hair, bejewelled spectacles, shocking long, pink fingernails and a tight garish business suit made her way through the crowd and began striding towards them, a lavish smile plastered on her face. One hand was buried suspiciously deep in her crocodile handbag, and the other was out in front of her, as if ready to seize any unsuspecting person who got in her way.

Harry's face fell. “Ah hell.”

“HARRY!” Rita Skeeter beamed, grabbing his hand with her own and pulling him forward to stand on tiptoe as high as she could and kiss him on the cheek. “You've certainly grown tall and strapping, haven't you? So nice to see you! It's been ages!”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Hermione whipped around, an instant scowl on her face. “Not long enough,” she muttered angrily.

Rita's smile faltered a bit at seeing Hermione, but she hitched it back into place almost instantaneously.

“Hermione Granger,” said Rita, her large, false grin doing very little to hide the disdain in her voice. “Still right by his side, are you?”

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and stared pointedly down at Rita.

She looked down at their clasped hands and back up again.. “Ah... ah I see. Well I always have had the knack of knowing which way the wind was blowing. Called this one right, didn't I? Before even you two knew it...” She turned to Ron, who was scowling. “And... you are?”

“Ron Weasley,” said Ron flatly.

“Ah... ah yes, the best friend. Well now I didn't get the pleasure of meeting you a few years ago but I dare say we'll have much to talk of now, won't we?” The hand that had been rooted in Rita's crocodile skin bag now whipped out a notepad and an acid-green quill, the same one Harry had seen her use some years ago. She placed the tip of the quill in her mouth and began to suck on it with relish, excitement etched on her face.

“You can put that straight away,” said Hermione at once, sounding angry. “We came to honour those who died in battle, not to give interviews. If you can't understand that, you've no business being here.”

Rita let the tip of the quill drop from her lips and regarded Hermione coldly. “And what exactly makes you think you're qualified to decide where I should and should not be? I suppose you're just dying to pull out the old 'I'll let everyone know you're an unregistered Animagus' bit, aren't you? Well I've got news for you, Miss Perfect. I've gone and registered myself with the Ministry of Magic. Did it last June... Sort of buggers up your continued plans to blackmail me, doesn't it?”

“And I'll bet they don't know how long you've been an Animagus, do they?” said Hermione, her eyes narrowed. “Odds are you left that bit out.”

Rita's face coloured considerably. She opened her mouth to speak again but Harry's voice cut her off.

“None of that matters. This is a memorial. Everyone here has lost people close to them,” he said very firmly. “They don't need a bunch of tactless reporters dragging information from them to sell papers.”

Rita pretended to look affronted, and stared at them for a few moments before speaking again. “I assure you, my reasons for being here are a bit more honourable than you think.”

“Honourable?” said Ron sarcastically. “Sorry, but based on your history, I've got my doubts on that one.”

“I don't believe you know me well enough to begin slinging accusations young man,” began Rita in a steely voice. “While it's true I might have embellished here and there on some of my more... acclaimed... pieces, I've always kept a standard of truth in my writing, which is why I'm here.”

Harry eyed her. “ 'Why you're here', aye? What... to get the 'truth' out of us? To tell the 'real' story? Since when have you ever been interested in telling the 'real' story?”

Rita sighed impatiently. “I said I liked to embellish... it's true. But I believe you'll find the Daily Prophet's version of events more palatable than what certain others may choose to report.” She pointed one long, shockingly pink nail toward a cluster of reporters dressed in robes of black with twinkling stars and colourful planets revolving on them, worming their way through the crowd and catching unsuspecting people off-guard. “The ones dressed in solar systems are reporters from Astrology Monthly. If you think I add things to sell papers, it's nothing to what they like to do. They like to add astrological spins to everything. Prophecies, fortune telling... you know the type... if they find out five students died in the battle, they'll find some way to make it coincide with the comets of Atraides that flew past the five outer moons of the planet Plexus some one hundred years ago to the day of the battle, and so on...”

Ron looked horrified. “Comets of Atraides? Plexus? I've never heard of-”

“It's all rubbish,” said Hermione scathingly. “There's no planet called Plexus, Ron, and even if there were it wouldn't have five moons orbiting-”

“Well, of course it's rubbish,” said Rita casually, twirling the green quill between her fingers. “But suppose they get enough fodder to sell their papers, and the Daily Prophet gets virtually none... well it doesn't take a science-wizard to figure out which paper is going to sell out, and which one's version of events is going to be widely believed and spread about.”

“As if there aren't going to be nutters out there who read that rot anyway,” said Hermione again, scoffing. “Us giving you our version isn't going to make anyone who really wants to read rubbish want to read it any less.”

“And there's where you're wrong,” said Rita, smiling devilishly. “You three give the Daily Prophet your version of events, and I guarantee yours will be the ones most widely read and believed. After all, you, Harry, are the one who was foretold would kill V..Vold..demort in the end, and you were the one who finally did him in, weren't you? You were also very close to the great Albus Dumbledore, as we all know. He gave his life for you, I'm told. You're the one who'll be best be able to put a heroic spin on how he died... you're the one who can cast him in the best light, and not as some barmy, old crackpot who completely lost his marbles, and there are still those out there who'll want to read articles about how Dumbledore went nutters toward the end, believe you me. And you two,” she said, now pinning Ron and Hermione with a hard stare. “You, along with Harry, were the ones most involved in all this, and it's your opinions the public is going to value over anyone else's, no matter whether they were on the front lines with you or not. Quite simply, Harry, your story sells papers... always has. So you have the opportunity to give the world an unskewered version of events, which I promise to jot down word for word as you give it to me, or...” She let the last word trail away and her eyes travelled over to the jumble of reporters who so resembled a cluster of galaxies, now surrounding a small crowd of witches and wizards who looked unmistakeably cornered. “Well, we might all be learning that Dumbledore's death was actually due to a fatal shift in his protective aura caused by a large meteor shower which passed too closely to the earth's atmosphere at precisely the same moment he was to have got out of the way of that sword-”

“We get the point,” said Harry angrily, now watching two wizards and one witch suddenly become surrounded by a cluster of reporters from Astrology Monthly. They looked as if they had just been swallowed by the Milky Way. He turned back to Rita. “Give us a minute, will you?”

She grinned smugly and stepped back from them. “Of course.”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron moved to one side and far enough away so that Rita's keen ears could not pick up any of their conversation.

“I don't like it,” said Ron at once, in an undertone. “Let Astronomy Monthly write whatever they want to-”

“Astrology Monthly,” corrected Hermione, “let's not get them confused with a real scientific-”

“They're going to do it anyway; it doesn't matter what we say,” continued Ron, pretending he had not heard Hermione's correction. She frowned at him as he continued. “We shouldn't have to tell the Daily Prophet anything we don't want to. Why should we rehash everything? Just to give everyone the real story? Why should we? Why do they deserve to hear?”

“You know I don't want to go on reliving it,” said Harry grimly, “but... I dunno... don't you think it's best they get the correct story, rather than a bunch of lies? I wouldn't want anyone believing Dumbledore died from some problem with his aura-”

“There are others who were there who will be perfectly willing to give interviews to the Daily Prophet as well,” said Hermione reasonably. “It's not down to us to do it or no one will, you know. I'm not saying we shouldn't, I just don't want you thinking you have to do it or no one else will, Harry.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, lost in thought, his fingers running through his hair and making it stick up worse than it already was. “Even so... why should they have to do it, either?” Ron opened his mouth to speak but Harry continued on. “No wait. Really though... is it fair if we leave it to them to do it? They shouldn't have to relive it either... and Rita's right on one count. We are the ones who were closest to everything. We can give the most accurate account-”

“And like Hermione said, there are others who were right there to give an accurate account too,” said Ron, cutting in. “If that's what you're worried about I'm sure there are plenty of other people who want the facts down right as they happened too.”

Harry sighed and jammed his hands into the pockets of the black pants he wore under his dress robes. Only minutes ago he had been thinking that nothing would be more pleasant than hiding away with Hermione in some dark hole for a few years until the story of the war became less enthralling to the media, or that the next nosy person who asked him what it had been like to kill Voldemort might well be stumbling away sporting a broken nose, but now... now something was telling him he needed to be the one to set everyone straight about what really happened. He knew it wasn't just about giving a correct account, it wasn't just about making certain no one put a strange, “otherworldly” spin on the story, nor was it only about feeling that he should not leave the job to someone else to deal with... somehow... somehow he knew the shift in his feelings about telling the story had to do with Dumbledore. He owed it to him. He wanted the public to know what a hero Dumbledore had been... how he had sacrificed himself not only in trying to save Harry, but for all those Voldemort might come to harm if he escaped. Many had gotten up during the memorial and said kind words about the old wizard, but no one quite understood what he had done or why, no one else really knew what he had sacrificed... and with the exception of Hagrid, he was quite sure no one else felt the old man's loss as deeply as he, Harry, did. Dumbledore had been more than a mentor to him... he had been like a grandfather. And now Harry knew exactly why his relationship with the old man had seemed so familial. That was it. Beyond everything else, Dumbledore was family.

Harry's eyes travelled to the gleaming slate of marble standing tall and engraved with the names of those who had died in the war; Dumbledore's own, overly-long name etched at the very top. He knew what he had to do. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he even could, Hermione spoke for him.

“You want to do it for him, don't you?” she said quietly. “For Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry looked down at her. That Hermione knew him so well still never ceased to amaze him, no matter how many times she proved it to him. He grabbed her hand and held it close to him, his fingers stroking her palm.

“Yeah I do... I can't give him anything else now... At least I can give him his name.”

Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand. “I knew you would say that. I'll be right there with you, Harry.”

Ron nodded solemnly. “Yeah, me too... I... I'll do it for him.”

**********************************

Predictably, the moment Rita heard, she was overjoyed.

“Brilliant! I knew I could count on you, Harry. Always been the noble one, haven't you? Well, it's served you well my boy, it certainly has. Now... let's find somewhere more secluded for us to talk; you don't want to get distracted and leave out something important!”

Clapping her hands together with glee, she whipped the acid-green quill and pad of paper from her bag once more and, sliding her horn-rimmed glasses to the edge of her nose, immediately began scanning the surrounding area for somewhere to conduct her interview.

“Wait...” said Ron, “you want to do it now? Right here? After the memorial?”

“Well of course now, you daft boy,” said Rita, her eyes never leaving the surrounding landscape. A small crop of trees seemed to catch her eye and she began walking swiftly towards them, beckoning the three behind her with a wave of her hand. “Did you think we might wait for next weeks edition? Do you think Astrology Monthly plans on waiting to run their version? We have to get the story out as soon as possible if we want yours to be the first ones the public sees! You three give me the story today and I can guarantee it makes the Sunday paper.”

“But... that's tomorrow!” said Hermione, panting from trying to keep up with Rita's fast paced walking. Even Harry and Ron, tall as they were, seemed surprised at how fast Skeeter was able to move. “You think you'll have everything ready to be printed tomorrow? What about editing and re-checking your facts, and-”

“News waits for no one!” said Rita, waggling a finger in the air as they neared the cluster of trees they had been heading toward. She stopped suddenly and whipped about, quill and pad at the ready. Ron nearly ran into her before he stopped himself. “I'll bet you ten galleons Astrology Monthly has their story published by early tomorrow morning. And I don't know when else I'm supposed to see you three to get the story from you, do you? From what I hear, Hogwarts only has a few more days of extended school left, and by that time twenty different versions of what happened during the war might already be out and circulating.”

“That's exaggerating a bit, don't you think?” said Harry, blandly.

“Not exaggerating, no,” said Rita, irritated. “Think about it. Dumbledore's death? V..Vold..dem..mort's defeat? Your 'destiny', finally fulfilled? I dare say every paper and magazine will be sold out by the time noon rolls round. This is the biggest story ever reported in the wizarding world, I assure you.”

“Quite possibly the biggest story you've ever reported as well, right?” said Harry, keenly.

Rita narrowed her eyes, looking nettled. “I've not tried to hide that fact, have I? Yes, I want to be the one reporting it. But everything else I've said is true too. If you want everything reported accurately, you need to tell the story yourself. Now,” she said bracingly, planting herself down on a flat tree stump and placing quill to pad. “Does anyone else want to blather on about ridiculous things or can we get on with the interview?”

The moment the last word left her lips, a loud crack sounded from somewhere right next to Hermione, and Minerva McGonagoll appeared in front of the four of them, clad in simple black dress robes, her hair pulled tight in a severe looking bun, and her lips set in an angry grimace. They had not seen her arrive at the service, nor had they seen her during it, but Harry was sure she had been there. Her eyes were red-rimmed from a bout of recent crying, and her nose swollen and chafed.

“Minerva!” said Skeeter, jumping up from her stump and trying to sound pleased, although her voice quailed just a bit. The quill and pad had completely disappeared from her hands. “How wonderful to see you! Such an awful day for a reunion though, isn't it? All those names... and Dumbledore! Who would've thought? I always liked him though, scrambled as he seemed, he always had it together, didn't he? Was always lovely to me-”

“There'll be no stories today, Rita,” McGonagoll spat furiously, sounding a big congested. “How dare you steal my students away, and from the middle of a memorial service, no less! Have you no sense of propriety!? Have you no respect!?”

“Well, I would never have approached them during the service,” said Rita, sounding wounded. “I only asked them to speak to me after it was done-”

“The very moment it was over, I'm certain!” McGonagoll hissed. “You've no right to ask them to relive what they went through, no right at all! I'm taking them back to the school straight away, and I WILL be reporting your inappropriate actions to the Daily Prophet. They won't be thanking you for upsetting me or my students after this, let me assure you.”

McGonagoll turned her back on Rita, whose face was slowly draining of colour, and began marching back across the field toward the rapidly dispersing crowd not far away. It was quite apparent to everyone there that she meant Harry, Ron, and Hermione to follow her without question, and the tone in her voice brooked no argument.

Rita, obviously beginning to process the damage that an angry Headmistress of Hogwarts might inflict upon her career, began jogging after her, her words coming out choppy as she stumbled along breathlessly in her wake. “You can't.. stop the press, Minerva! After all that's happened some story is bound to.. to surface about what happened in those woods and I would think you, being in the middle of everything yourself, would want a straight version of events coming directly from the horses mouth... Certainly, one would think that those.. those who were there would be most invested in getting the truth to the public-”

“Oh, I'm certain that's what you're interested in,” said McGonagoll in a hard, sarcastic tone, not bothering to turn around as she continued stomping back to the crowd. “Seeing as how you've always been such been a paragon of virtue when it comes to the 'truth'.”

Rita began to splutter in earnest. “But... b..but... you wouldn't want some falsified version of events to be spread about for all to read, would you? If I can get the real story out for everyone to read before a lot of half-truths hit the shelves, just think of how much better it will be for all concerned! Wouldn't it make sense for the one who was closest to everything to let the true story out before someone else gets it all wrong? Why Potter here-”

“Asked Rita to interview us, Professor,” Harry finished for her, stopping so that Hermione almost walked into him.

Rita's voice halted abruptly. Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry, Ron's mouth open slightly. McGonagoll stopped marching at once and turned on her heel, spearing Harry with a very surprised look.

“Wh... You, Potter?” said McGonagoll, looking completely nonplussed. “You asked this woman to... you, of all people, wanted HER, of all people to-”

“Yes,” said Harry decisively, glancing at Hermione and Ron and widening his eyes just long enough for them to see that he wanted them to play along.

“Why!? Why would you...” the Headmistress spluttered, “after all she's...”

“Because she's right on one count,” said Harry. “I want the truth out. It won't be fun... reliving it... but it needs to be done. I want to do this, Professor. Please.”

Rita stayed completely silent, though Harry thought he could see her eyes dancing with victory. McGonagoll put a hand to her forehead, obviously torn between wanting to protect her students and giving them the right to speak their mind. Finally she relented, her hand dropping to her side as if in defeat.

“Fine. Fine, Potter. But you don't need them all to get the correct story,” she finished, stabbing Rita again with a very hard stare. “I don't want them all going through it again, and Potter is more than qualified to set everything straight on is own.”

Hermione stepped forward. “But Professor-”

“No, Hermione, I can do it,” said Harry. “It's enough for one of us to.”

“Yes,” said Rita, trying very hard to drown her feeling of accomplishment in a look of acquiescence. “Yes, Potter's version will be quite enough. I don't want any of them going through it again if they don't have to.”

McGonagoll narrowed her eyes at her and spoke next with a voice that held such a steely edge of scorn to it that any normal person would have been cut to the quick. “Of course you don't.”

Rita, however, merely smiled cheerfully back at her.

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at one another for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“Well, no time like the present,” said Rita, clapping her hands together again. The green quill and notepad had suddenly found their ways back into her heavily adorned fingers. “Shall we then, Potter?”

Harry quirked a half amused, half irritated eyebrow at her and nodded. “I'll be along in a minute. We can go back to the trees, if you like.”

Rita nodded and began her way back toward the trees, humming slightly to herself. The moment she was out of earshot, McGonagoll rounded on him again.

“Are you certain, Potter? I don't want you doing this out of some false sense of obligation. It's not down to you to tell the story or no one else will, you know.”

Harry smiled at her, struck anew at how often Hermione and Professor McGonagoll sounded alike. “Yes, I'm sure.”

“Alright then. I can't stop you. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger can ride back to Hogwarts with me. I'll have one of the cars stay put to bring you back to school as soon as you're done.” She glanced back to where Rita was sitting on the old tree stump, already fiddling with her quill, and speaking test lines to make certain it was working properly. McGonagoll's lips thinned into a line of disapproval and dislike. “See to it that she doesn't keep you long. If you're not done by dinnertime in the Great Hall, you can tell her I'll be coming for you myself.”

“I'm sure that'll keep her brief,” said Harry.

The professor eyed him sharply for a moment, hiding a small smirk, and then turned to Ron and Hermione. “We'll be off, then.”

She turned to go and began walking away, again secure in the fact that the other two would follow.

Ron began to follow her, but Hermione held back, waving him on without her.

Once he was out of earshot, she turned back to Harry. “Harry, why did you tell Professor McGonagoll it was you're idea to be interviewed? You didn't have to do that, you know.”

“I don't want her trying to stop me,” said Harry, grabbing onto her hand. “I want Professor Dumbledore's name cleared. And I might as well tell the story and get it on paper the way we want it. At least that way maybe everyone's questions will be answered and they'll leave us all alone.”

Hermione stared up at him knowingly.

Harry sighed. “Well... maybe they won't-”

“No, they won't,” said Hermione, sadly. “An article in the Daily Prophet isn't going to keep people from approaching us, Harry. We'll still have to deal with it.”

“Maybe. But I still want the truth out. At least I can control what's said and what's not said, you know?” He smiled down at her and pulled her to him. “And we'll have each other. I can take questions and reliving it if I've got you with me.”

Hermione hugged him hard, her answer muffled in his chest. “You'll always have me.”

Harry stared over her head at Rita, who was tapping one foot impatiently and staring at them. He smiled down at Hermione again.

“And will I have you tonight in my bed?”

Hermione pulled back and hit him lightly on the arm. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean,” said Harry, smoothing her cheek with the back of his hand and then running two fingers over her lips. “I'll need some comforting.”

“Oh will you?” said Hermione, one eyebrow raised. “Would a right hook comfort you?”

“I dunno... might be exciting though,” said Harry.

“Cheeky,” said Hermione, trying and failing to sound irritated. “I'll see you back at school.”

She turned to walk back, and then on a whim, turned to glance at him over her shoulder. “We'll see about that comforting.”

Harry grinned at her as she walked away, and then, jamming his hands in his pockets, walked back over to Rita and sat down on another tree stump near her.

She smirked at him. “You two seem right cosy, don't you? I'll say it again, I've got a nose for these things... saw you two coming from a mile off.”

Harry looked at her warily.

“On that note,” said Rita casually, her quill quivering with excitement, “I don't suppose you want to add in a bit on that, do you? How Granger has helped you through all this, or something to that effect? Might put a human spin to the story that readers will find easy to identify wi-”

“No,” said Harry in a hard, clear voice. “I'm here to talk about the war, that's all.”

Rita's casual look melted away. “Oh, alright.”

She stared at him for a moment, curiosity lining her face.

“What...” said Harry, flatly.

“Why did you lie to Minerva for me?” said Rita with a scrutinizing gaze. “I know it wasn't borne out of your extreme fondness for me.”

Harry smirked. “Well... now you owe me.”

Rita eyed him judiciously. “Ah... now we come to it. You could've chosen any other Daily Prophet reporter to give your story to- there were dozens down there- and McGonagoll was giving you an out with me, wasn't she? I knew it had to be something. What is it, then? You want certain things changed? Left out?”

“Whatever I want left out, I can leave out, and you won't be any the wiser, will you?” said Harry, sharply. “And Hermione already hit on the fact that you probably didn't tell the Ministry of Magic you've been an Animagus for some time before registering, I think... didn't she say that? I can't remember.”

Rita pursed her lips, looking extremely sour. “Grown up, haven't you? Learned the ways of the world.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Alright, you mean business, I can see that. What'd you want, Potter?”

Harry grinned.

******************************************************

(Author's note: So it's been a long, LONG time, readers. You want to murder me... yes, I know... if you even remember this story! (And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.) Harry Potter and the Half-Baked Plot really put me off my writing for a long time, (I HATED it... I apologize to those who liked it) but I'm starting to get back into it, (thankfully), and I haven't forgotten that I told everyone I wouldn't abandon this story until it was done. So here's the next chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know what you think.... and I hope you're all still interested enough to wonder what Harry's got up his sleeve. Tee hee... I think you'll like it. I do. ;0)

Cheers, Bama)

41. Chapter 41: Seasons of Change

Chapter 41: Seasons of Change

Late Monday morning brought one of the hardest rains of the year. Huge, lashing, warm sheets of rain, bright flashes of lightning, and booming thunder made many a student sitting their end of year written exams lose focus of what they were writing and thinking to gaze upwards toward the enchanted ceiling; some visibly jumping at each loud, cracking drumroll the sky emitted. Above, a perfect copy of nature's outdoor canopy showed a blackish-grey swirl of angry looking storm clouds, their complete picture blurred and smeared by heavy torrents of rain pelting down like liquid bullets, disappearing some fifteen feet above the student's heads.

The rain was a distraction. That was certain. What was even more certain, however, was that even without the roaring and crashing above, many would have still had problems concentrating on something that seemed much less important than it once might have been.

Once again, as if everything was normal, as if everyone's world had not recently been turned upside down, the four long house tables of the Great Hall had been moved aside in favour of a roomful of individual desks for end of year exams.

As hard as it was for those who had been through the war to accept that life moved on, as strange as it was to try going on about normal business with newly jaded eyes and ill-understood emotions, everyone knew business as usual had to be gone on about. Headmaster McGonagall had reminded the students of that fact, making certain that she did it in the gentlest way possible, which meant it came out rather stern anyway despite her efforts.

Ginny Weasley, sitting near the front of rows upon rows of desks, had been lost in thought for more than five minutes now, but a small cough and a slight clearing of the throat by McGonagall broke her from her reverie long enough to catch her eye. Though she looked kindly at her as if understanding her distractions, nevertheless, the professor motioned toward the large hourglass sitting behind herself on an intricate, highly polished professor's desk.

Fifteen more minutes, Miss Weasley... Professor McGonagall mouthed silently to her, and yet, Ginny felt she had never cared less about a test in her life. Though what had happened during the war played on her mind day after day, this day, something a bit more immediate was actually succeeding in chasing it from her mind... someone more immediate, to be precise.

Draco Malfoy.

Ginny sighed and made a half-hearted attempted to put her mind into marking down an answer on her test, before resting her chin on her hand once again.

The Malfoy she had known before the war no longer existed. Those who had never known him well enough to see the difference knew nothing of his changes, but Ginny noticed. It was as plain as the closed-off, brooding look on his face, and the hollow, clipped tone in his voice. From the moment he had been found only yards from the battlefield, slumped in an almost catatonic state near one of the dead trees of the Kavan Forest, he had been a different person. There was an odd sort of hesitation in his words and a quieter, more reserved way about him that had certainly not been a part of the cocky, self-assured Malfoy Ginny had come to know.

This morning he had been quieter and more emotionally distant than she had ever seen him, though Ginny could hardly fault him for it, knowing what this particular day, of all days, was bringing him.

Having already finished every exam he thought he could, he had been done with school since Friday evening, though he had opted to wait leaving until Ginny had finished her exams as well so that he could attend the leaving feast, scheduled tomorrow evening, with her. Beyond that, he had nothing in particular to go home to; riches being a poor substitute for company, and Ginny had the distinct feeling that Draco was trying to put off having to go back to the Malfoy mansion for as long as possible. Grimacing, she thought about the abrupt change the war had brought about in Malfoy. He had always crowed about his future after school, about how easy it would be, as a Malfoy, to climb the ranks of the Ministry of Magic, and about how, when the position was finally offered to him, he would be the youngest Minister ever to have taken office. He had a well-known, well-respected name, was obscenely rich, had all the right connections thanks to his father, and had no worries about the future.

Now somehow, even though he still owned his riches and his name, he no longer seemed to hold the same self-assurance. Since the war, Ginny had not heard another word about what Malfoy planned to do after school. She doubted he even knew anymore. He seemed to drift along aimlessly, a sad, angry cloud hovering over his head, and the closer it had gotten to this day, Monday, the more he had begun distancing himself from her. All of her coaxing to get him to talk about it had failed, and above all, she simply wished she had been able to go with him on the task he was facing today, instead of being stuck in this damned hall taking tests that hardly seemed to matter any more.

Today was the reading of Lucius Malfoy's will. Along with Sirius, Ginny had seen Draco off very early this morning at the great double doors leading into the entrance hall, all of his possessions packed into his trunk and levitated behind him, as he was to make his way down the long beaten drive toward the gates leading to the school and wait for one of his father's Muggle limousines to pick him up. He had given her a peck on the cheek before turning to walk away, trunk trailing dismally behind him, and had hunched himself into his long black raincoat against the early morning's chilling drizzle of rain, looking by all accounts the picture of misery.

She had not been able to get his picture out of her head all morning long, and could hardly concentrate on exams for wondering how he was feeling. She knew the guilt of what he had done to his father, however necessary the act had been, gnawed at his insides with every passing moment; knew that he had been more than happy to be able to “hide out” at Hogwarts away from the accusing eyes of the rest of the world... and although he would never admit it, knew that the thought of what distant family members, or business associates of his father's might say to him upon finally catching sight of him at the recital of the will had been plaguing his mind. He brought it up in jokes, laughing sardonically that killing off the Malfoy patriarch might have cost him his favour with the rest of the Malfoy family, and that he would probably not be looked on as favourably as he once had to work at the Ministry now that he had got rid of one of their star benefactors, but Ginny was not easily fooled by his cheek. The truth behind his snarkiness was far from humorous.

He was terrified.

Everything he had been before the war, all that he had believed about himself, was no longer. He no longer knew who he was or where he was going in life, which was all he had ever had in the first place.

He was lost, and above all else, Ginny felt he probably thought he was more alone now than he had ever been before. And it was this, above all, that gave her the most unrest. She did not want him to feel alone. She wanted him to know, at least above all else, that “alone” was something he was not... and she would make certain that he knew it, that he had options to not being alone, if only he would let her in again...

Without making a sound, McGonagall had somehow moved to where Ginny was sitting, and the light touch she placed on her arm startled her into jumping. The usual stern expression the professor wore had been replaced by a sort of a concerned grimace.

“Miss Weasley,” she whispered gently. “Try to concentrate. I know it's difficult, but you'll have the rest of your life to think on other things, and only one chance to do well on these exams.”

Ginny sighed. “I know. It's just... it's hard.”

“I've no doubt,” McGonagall said, patting her on the shoulder. “It's difficult for us all. However, if you're unable to make the best effort now, you've still got the option of returning during summer to do your tests when you've rested up a bit, as I've made clear to all my students-”

“I know,” said Ginny. “No. That won't be necessary. I'll finish, Professor. I'll try to concentrate, I promise.”

McGonagall eyed her for a moment and pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “You'll let me know if it becomes too much for you?”

Ginny nodded and watched the Professor turn to make her way back up to the large polished desk facing the students. It did not matter if she postponed her tests until later anyway. It was too late to join Draco at the reading of his father's will, and that would have been the only reason she would have done so anyway.

Sighing she put quill to paper and began marking down another answer. He had said he would be returning from the reading sometime late this afternoon, and she would have to content herself with finding out then how it had gone.

*************************************************

By early evening, the heavy torrents pelting the school had settled down into a hard, murky drizzle that clicked and tapped on windows like millions of tiny needles, the weather seeming determined to keep its pattern of grey and gloomy no matter whether the rain decided to let up a bit or not.

In Gryffindor tower, and perched on the windowsill nearest her bed, Ginny sat hugging her knees to her chest and peering worriedly out into the wet darkness of Hogwarts grounds. From where she was she could just make out the twilight-dimmed, rain-fogged trail that led from the front gates of the school to the great double doors leading into the entrance hall, and though she squinted as hard as she could, the trail made a bit easier to see with the light spilling from Hagrid's hut, she still spotted no figure trudging back towards the school. She had been sitting, staring at the same spot for more than an hour now, and frustration finally got the better of her.

“Where IS he!?” she suddenly exclaimed, dropping her feet to the floor and slapping her thighs in anger.

Hermione, who had decided to keep Ginny company, and who had been lounging on another girl's bed reading a copy of Witch Weekly in the otherwise unoccupied room, jumped unexpectedly at the noise, the magazine flying from her hands to land sprawled on the bed a few feet away.

“Oh! Merlin, Ginny you scared the life out of me-”

“He should be back by now!” Ginny continued frantically, ignoring her. “He said he'd only be gone throughout most of the afternoon! Here it is half past five and he still hasn't returned!”

Hermione sighed. “Maybe it ran longer than he thought it would... or maybe he's just had a rough time of it and needs some time alone. I can't imagine it's pleasant having to sit your father's will, knowing you're the reason he's no longer around-”

“What if he's decided not to come back,” said Ginny, suddenly fearfully, barely hearing her. “What if he's just decided he's had enough of everything and he's gone for good-”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Hermione, sharply. “Ginny, he told you he wanted to sit the Leaving Feast with you tomorrow night. He cares about you, and I doubt he's changed his mind. You're worrying too much. Just relax, he'll be back. Maybe it just ran a bit long.”

“And what would you say to me if it was Harry feeling all alone and insecure and he hadn't come back from somewhere at the time he said he would, aye?” Asked Ginny, narrowing her eyes. “Wouldn't be as relaxed then, would you?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Ginny, that's the story of my life with Harry. You know that. Only with Harry it was usually him trying to make a trip to his death alone, not to the reading of a will.”

Ginny stared hard at her for a moment before her cool façade broke. “I know it is! Which is why I don't understand how you can think Draco will just come back! I mean he's in a bit of the same state Harry was now, isn't he? He's orphaned, he's got no one, well, at least Harry thought he had no one before his father turned back up alive, and Sirius doesn't really count as he was in Azkaban most of Harry's life and Harry didn't know about him-”

“Harry has me... and in the same way, Malfoy's got you,” Hermione interrupted, firmly. “You just remember that.”

Ginny sighed and shook her head dismally. “I only hope he remembers it.”

“He does,” said Hermione standing and placing a hand on Ginny's arm. “I know it... you'll just have to remind him of it every now and then.”

Ginny scoffed and folded her arms. “And what makes you so certain?”

“I've seen the way you are together... I've seen the way you care for one another; the way he's opened up to you like no one else. Believe me, Ginny, if Malfoy is anything like Harry he knows real love when it stares him in the face. I think the lack of it his whole life has got to show him the difference once he experiences it.”

Ginny stared hard at the floor for a moment before moving over to plop down on the bed beside Hermione, swiping at her eyes. Hermione put an arm about her shoulders and squeezed her comfortingly.

“Alright now?”

Ginny paused, wiping her eyes once more. “Some... thank you, Hermione.”

“Of course.”

Ginny moved back to her perch on the windowsill, passing a few more fruitless minutes searching the grounds before turning back to Hermione again.

“So what are you doing up here with me when you could be spending time with Harry?”

Hermione placed the magazine down again and looked up at her. “Actually, he thought you might be needing the company. I agreed with him.”

“Harry thought I would?” said Ginny, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” said Hermione, smiling, “And besides he and Ron have been in Hogsmeade all day looking at flats... Professor McGonagoll gave them permission to go together since we're done with exams, and Harry wants to be out on his own and away from the Dursleys as soon as possible.” The sound of the Dursleys' name coming from her lips seemed to leave Hermione with a bitter taste, but after a moment, she pressed on. “Anyway, Harry said he and Ron had 'male things' to discuss tonight, which probably means he wants to play Quidditch in the rain when they get back, sort of as a last hurrah, so I told him we'd make it a 'birds and blokes' night and let him play with Ron for a bit.”

Ginny frowned. “Aren't you bothered you three are leaving school tomorrow? Do you even know when you'll be seeing them both together again?”

Hermione smiled. “Well I imagine I'll be seeing a lot of Harry... we're going out, aren't we? He's already got a flat in mind big enough for he and Ron to rent together. He's had one picked out for some time in one of the apartment buildings we saw in Hogsmeade. I imagine I'll be able to find one there as well so we can all live close to one another. In any case, Harry's decided he will be going back to the Dursleys at least one last time... though he's hoping it'll only be to pick up anything he might have left there.”

“Why would he want to go back at all?” asked Ginny, incredulously. “Surely he hasn't left behind anything that valuable to actually want to go back to that horrid place and get it.”

Hermione sighed. “I don't think it's so much anything he's left as it is he feels obligated to say goodbye to Petunia and Dudley. Even after how they treated him Harry feels he owes them at least a goodbye and where to reach him if they need to... I think he feels quite guilty about what happened to his uncle.”

“But that wasn't his fault!” said Ginny fiercely.

“Well, Voldemort was after Harry, so he went after Harry's family,” said Hermione. “Of course he feels responsible for it. It doesn't mean he wants to be there any longer than to tell them goodbye, but I think he feels he needs to do that... He hasn't said so, but I know that's what it is. He needs some sort of closure on that bit of his life to move on.”

Ginny sat in silence for a moment, mulling Hermione's words over before she spoke again.

“Well he shouldn't feel responsible,” she said coldly. “And Draco shouldn't feel responsible for what he had to do to his father, either. They brought it on themselves. They were horrible people and they did horrible things! They deserved what they got!”

“I agree they were horrible,” said Hermione. “But that doesn't make Harry feel any better about his uncle's death... and I'm certain Draco feels even worse about his father's death. I mean, Draco's directly responsible for Lucius, isn't he? It doesn't matter if it had to be done, he still killed his own father. Think how he must feel! He's not going to get over the guilt of that so easily.”

Ginny paused again and turned her face back to the window and the grounds below. “No, he won't... and I don't know how to help him.”

“Just be there for him,” said Hermione, sagely. “You can't undo what's been done, but you can show him he's still a worthy person by sticking with him and loving him no matter what. That's going to be more effective than any words you can give him.”

Ginny nodded, pressing her lips together in an effort to keep from crying. “If he'll let me.”

“If he won't let you, do it anyway,” said Hermione firmly. “It may come to that... it certainly has for Harry and me a few times. He starts thinking he's not worth me loving him, and I've got to remind him what a wonderful person he is and how I love him for who he is. Draco and he are more alike than either would like to admit, I think.”

Ginny nodded quietly, her eyes never leaving the blurred picture of the worn path leading back to the school. “I suppose they are, aren't they?”

****************************************

Strolling across the cold, rain soaked ground toward the Quidditch pitch, Sirius pulled his rain-imperturbed cloak even tighter about his person, his keen eyes searching through the darkness of the surrounding area for any sign of life. For the past hour his wand had kept steadily warm in his hands, pointing him toward his destination, telling him that the person he had applied his tracking charm to this morning had finally returned to the school, though they had chosen not to enter it.

An hour was quite long enough to stew, thought Sirius to himself as he finally caught sight of a head of damp silvery-blonde hair resting against the back of one tree near the north Quidditch stands. The person was shifting a bit on the ground, trying to make themselves more comfortable, though Sirius thought to himself that he was probably sitting out in the rain on an uncomfortable patch of sopping wet ground as a sort of punishment for himself. He shook his head and sighed as he approached, thinking to himself how, as a younger man, he had done the same thing. Nothing was new under the sun.

Footsteps squishing softly on the ground behind him alerted Malfoy to the fact that someone had found him much earlier than he had wanted. He slid his arms off his knees with an exasperated sigh, his voice coming out flat and echoless in the wide open space of the pitch.

“Look Red, I just want to be alone for a while, alright?”

A much deeper voice than Draco had been expecting spoke up to answer him.

“I should think you've had enough of that already to last a lifetime.”

Draco's eyes widened. In an instant he had whipped about, his wand drawn and aimed, though upon seeing who it was, he dropped it just as quickly.

“Oh, it's you,” he said dully, turning away from Sirius once more and dropping back against the tree again. “Bored, are you? Out looking for a cat to chase? Hydrant to mark?”

Sirius made his way round the tree to face Malfoy. “You might at least pretend you're pleased to see me.”

“In the same way you pretend you're bothered if I don't? What's the point in that game?” Malfoy retorted, though the dull, spiritless way in which he spoke kept any sting intended with the words from meeting their mark. “Look, just go away, alright... I'm not up for one of your pep talks right now.”

Without a word, Sirius planted himself down Indian-style across from Malfoy and pulled his rain slicker closer about him, squinting at the younger man as if trying to discern his mood through the darkness.

“Always great to know you respect my wishes,” said Malfoy coldly, eyeing him.

Sirius ignored his last remark as if he had not heard it. “What's going on with you? Why haven't you come back into the school?”

“How did you know where to find me?” asked Draco coldly, ignoring him. “Put a homing charm on me this morning, did you?”

“I might have.”

“Hoping to catch me planning some 'secret remnants of the Death Eaters' meeting?”

“You really think they'd have you back now?” asked Sirius bluntly.

Draco smirked.

“Me neither,” Sirius finished. But the wry tone to his voice disappeared quickly. “You've got poor Ginny Weasley tied into knots, you know. She's been watching for you all afternoon, thinking you've left for good.”

“And how do you know what Ginny's feeling?” asked Draco, narrowing his eyes. Then he snorted unpleasantly. “Oh wait, let me guess.... the Gryffindor grapevine. Weaselby told Granger who told Scarhead who told his father who told you, right? The neverending soap opera. I suppose I should've expected major intrusion with dating a Weasley... family and friends come as a packaged deal.”

“You're not fooling me so you can stop trying to change the subject,” said Sirius bluntly. “What's happened?”

“What'd you mean, 'what's happened'?” Draco snapped suddenly, breaking the twig he had been holding. “You know what's happened! I sat the reading of Lucius' will today! You think it's pleasant sitting in a group of people who stare at you and whisper with one another behind your back? And let me tell you, some of them need to learn how to effing whisper, because I heard just about every damn thing they were thinking about me... some of them just thought I didn't deserve to be there. Others weren't as kind. Apparently they don't agree murderers should be high up on the inheritance list.”

Sirius studied him dispassionately for a moment before speaking again. “Don't think for one second I believe you cared what they thought of you. That's not it. You've hardly known those people. I mean our sort aren't exactly known for their warm family ties, are they? I've certainly never known them.”

“Doesn't mean I want them putting me on the same shit-list with you,” said Malfoy, his bitter tone coming out harsher than he intended. In an instant he felt sorry. “Well... I mean... that's not what I-”

“You should be so lucky,” Sirius interrupted him coldly, leaning forward to glare at him. “I'm considered a blood traitor because I disowned the Blacks and their prejudices, and they, in turn, disowned me. I reckon I'd rather be on the shit-list of a bunch of supremacist, bigoted pure bloods than considered one of them... how about you?”

Draco had the courtesy to colour just a bit. “No. No, I... that's not what I meant. It's just... he... Lucius, he...” He broke off for a moment, balling his fists and looking as if he was waging an inward battle with himself before he spoke again. “They think it's my fault,” he finished through gritted teeth. “They blame me. They don't know what he... and even if they did, some of them wouldn't... Look, none of them thought I should be there. As it turns out-”

“What you did was necessary, Draco,” said Sirius firmly, leaning forward. “You've got to stop thinking of Lucius only in terms of blood and start thinking of him as the enemy, no matter what anyone else says... distant family or no. That's what he was... the enemy. He would have killed every half-blood, Muggle-born and magical creature he could get his hands on, if he was able. He would have helped Voldemort take over. You know that. And he was no father to you. None whatsoever. There's more to being a father than sharing a last name and a fortune.”

“Don't pretend to understand me!” Draco blurted, suddenly angry. “Don't pretend you've even got a clue what it's like to-”

“I'm probably the only one who really does understand!” Sirius barked sharply in reply. “I've lived your life, Draco. We're remarkably similar, you and I. Think about it.”

Malfoy set his jaw stubbornly, his face scarlet, and then dropped his gaze to stare down at his hands. For a long while, he and Sirius stared in different directions, both lost in their own thoughts, the chilling drizzle of rain the only sound in the darkness as it pattered their raincoats like millions of tiny pins dropping all at once.

For all of his own problems, Malfoy realized he had quite chosen to forget that Sirius Black was probably the one person in his world who could even come close to understanding the sort of life he had lived. However, the compassion and understanding Sirius seemed to have begun showing him lately was discomfiting to say the least, and the fact remained that Sirius was left with at least one important thing that Malfoy did not, and would not ever have again. Working against his better judgement at ever letting anyone into his personal affairs, Ginny Weasley notwithstanding, he decided finally to speak it aloud.

“He wrote me out,” he said flatly, and the sound of his own dull voice actually speaking the words brought a reality to the situation that settled in his stomach like a cold lump.

Sirius looked up at him, his expression unreadable.

Raging inwardly, Draco gritted his teeth and forced the rest of it out. “Of the will. He wrote me out. I've got nothing.”

“Nothing...” Sirius repeated.

“Yeah, nothing!” He raged furiously, slamming a fist onto the wet ground and rising to his knees. “You know that thing that's less than something!? That's what I've got! Not only am I a murderer, I'm a piss-poor one to boot! I haven't got a knut to my name! He didn't even leave me the mansion. He knew I wasn't going to measure up to his and Voldemort's standards so he took it all from me before it was too late. Disowned and disinherited me! And they all thought it was fitting, the whole lot of them... you could see it in their effing faces once they realized he'd taken it all from me! Looking satisfied and smug that the murderer got what he deserved, smiling at the thought that I'm left with nothing to live on! You wanted to know what was wrong? Well, that's it! I've got nothing, and I am nothing! Everything I was... everything I am is gone!”

He dropped back to the ground and clawed a hand through his hair, sending the blonde strands flying in different directions, his hands balling into fists tight enough for his fingernails to leave deep, crescent-shaped indents on the palms.

Sirius did not respond to the revelation, though he opted to study Malfoy with interest once again.

Draco clenched his jaw. Chest heaving with the sick feeling of desperation, blood boiling, fury at his circumstances, fury at everything fuelling his ire once more, he opened his mouth to yell some more, but Sirius beat him to the punch.

“Money is just an object, Draco.”

“Easily spoken by one who still has it to spare,” Malfoy countered brusquely. “A cauldron is an object but you won't find me able to pay rent with it any time soon.”

The probing gaze Sirius continued to give him angered him even more, and before he knew what he was doing, Malfoy began to blurt out everything he was feeling yet again.

“Gods! It's not just... it's all I've ever had, don't you get it? My money and my name. I'd think you, of all people... our sort... they're... look it's not as if the Malfoys left me with some 'legacy of love' to go on, is it? Money is all I had! It was the same with you, so you've said, only I don't even have that anymore! It's all.. I.. had! It's who I was, it's what I understood, so what have I got now? Who am I now? Why would she want me anymo-”

Abruptly Draco broke off, shutting his mouth with a snap, and furious that he had let too much of his feelings slip out. The comprehending look on Sirius' face told Malfoy all he needed to know about whether or not Sirius had caught the last of his words and he mentally raged at himself for it.

“Don't think much of Ginny Weasley, do you?” asked Sirius quietly.

Taken aback, Malfoy was instantly even more furious than before. “YES I DO! It isn't her! She wouldn't-”

“Then it's you you think so little of.”

Mouth still open but suddenly having nothing left to say, Draco snapped his jaw shut and fell back on his haunches. Feelings were never his strong suit. Gritting his teeth against the onslaught, the muscles on the sides of his jaw standing out like walnuts, he broke eye contact, and chose to set a hard glare on some spot to the far left of Sirius' gaze so that he would not have to look at him. Again they sat in miserable silence, Draco becoming increasingly uncomfortable with what he could only imagine was Sirius Black sitting there wreathed in sympathy for him, ruminating, just as he had done after Draco had done his own father in, on how to fix the broken young man before him.

The thought was more nauseatingly philanthropic than Malfoy could stand to bear, though, once again, on the verge of speaking up, Sirius beat him to it with a determined exhale.

“The money issue is easily remedied,” he said quietly. “However, the fact you feel that if you have none, you're nothing... well, that's not so easily fixed.”

The first bit of Sirius' statement drove all hateful thoughts of the other's sympathy for him temporarily out of Draco's mind.

“What'd you mean, 'the money is easily remedied'?”

Sirius shook his head, looking rueful. “I'd thought it might come to this. I'd considered how Lucius might retaliate once he learned you'd decided to join our side... He couldn't get to you physically, could he, being holed up at Hogwarts under Dumbledore's protection... The next best thing to punish you would have been to take away your inheritance...”

He paused, knowing exactly how Malfoy might take his next words, but had already decided, even before finding him tonight, that he was going to go through with his offer no matter how the boy baulked at his compassion. Taking a much needed deep breath, he ploughed on.

“Look, I've got more money and more rooms in old the Black mansion than I know what to do with. James has already taken me up on my offer of a room, and I'd already decided to give you some place to stay and cut you in on a bit of my own inheritance should Lucius decide to take you out of his. I'm not being completely unselfish, mind you... frankly I'd enjoy the company. Extra bodies make the old place seem a bit less like a mausoleum and more like a home-”

“I'm NOT your charity case!” Malfoy blurted suddenly, his face flushing hot and red, and the sick feeling of being pitied twisting his stomach once again. “I've never asked you for ANYTHING! I don't want your money, or a room in your house, you understand!? I don't need your-”

“I don't think you're a charity case,” said Sirius in a deflated voice, and the weary look on his face seemed to anger Malfoy even more. “That's not what I'm trying to-”

“Think you have to share your wealth with the poor little orphan who's lost his way, aye?” Malfoy shouted. “Therapeutic for you, is it, to help out the pathetic little version of you growing up? Make you feel better?”

“That's not it at all! You're making an arse out of yourself, Draco-”

“I'm not looking for a bloody hand-out!” Malfoy's voice rose to a bellow. “I'm far from pathetic just yet, you understand? I can find a job. I'll save up the money to get my own flat-”

“And in the meantime, what are you going to do, live on the streets?” Sirius scoffed aloud. “Take to begging for sickles in Knockturn alley? Nick your food from rubbish bins?”

Malfoy had nothing to say to this. Chest heaving with humiliation, he looked away from Sirius, his voice when he spoke next sounding furiously quiet.

“Look... I don't want your sympathy or your money, Black. I... appreciate the... the offer, but... I don't want it, nor do I need it. ”

“Of course you do, don't be stupid!” Sirius barked. “Put your damned pride aside for just once, will you? Whether or not you want to admit it, the fact remains that we are family, however distantly we're related. And I'm not trying to give you a hand-out, I'm trying to give you a hand-UP. There's a difference! As I said before, I've been where you are-”

“Have you?” asked Draco, sharply. “I don't recall you losing your home or inheritance. Nor do I think you've ever had to kill your own father, am I right?”

“No, I haven't, you're right,” Sirius replied, huffing as if trying to get his irritation under control. “But I certainly know what it's like to be disowned by your family... to grow up never knowing what love and affection are- No, LISTEN TO ME! Believe it or not Malfoy, you and I... even Harry... we're a lot alike. Poor little rich wizards, loads of money and not a good, happy use in the world for it. I left home at sixteen before my parents could kick me out. They certainly wanted to disinherit me. You can believe that. I hadn't lived up to the Black family name, being a 'Muggle-lover' and a 'blood traitor', had I? But father died soon after I left, and mother went mad right after. Neither of them ever got round to changing the will so my less disappointing brother, Regulus, would get everything, and when he was killed... well... the rest is history, as they say. But look, when I left the Blacks, James Potter and his family, they became the family I never had. They took me in during summer rather than see me go back to the old house with my insane mother end of the school year... even let me stay there end of seventh year until I could get a job and afford my own place. They gave me food and a bed to sleep in, and more importantly, gave me the sort of care and support I never had growing up. And I felt the same as you at first, too proud to accept their generosity, embarrassed and ashamed at my situation- but they weren't out to make me feel like some charity case, Draco; they just wanted to give out of what they had. That's all I'm trying to do for you. I'm not offering you a hand-out, and I certainly don't feel sorry for you. Your parents are dead, yes, and they've left you with nothing, that's a cert... but the one thing you're not is friendless... unless you choose to be. I'm not offering anything more than what one family member would for another. You can pay me back once you get on your feet if it makes you feel any better. All I'm giving you is a chance to start over. The rest will be up to you.”

Sirius ended his rant with a final sounding note and sat mutely, measuring his breathing and staring off in some dark space, prepared to wait all night for the right answer if he had to.

No sarcastic retorts coming to mind, again Malfoy clamped his teeth together and sat silently for a long while, thinking. A war was raging in his head between wanting to take Sirius up on his offer, and humiliation at the thought of accepting help from him. The thought of how abruptly everything in his world had changed was unsettling, to say the least. If someone had told him a year ago he might be considering anyone from Harry Potter's entourage a friend of his, he would have laughed in their face... right before beating the hell out of them for the mere suggestion. Now... well now, things were different... circumstances were different. He had lost everything that had made him who he was his entire life. The power and prestige he had once proudly stood to inherit from his father, far from giving him a sense of pride, now left him with a deep sense of disillusionment and shame. People he had once mocked and thought very little of, he was now seeing in a different light. And most fantastical of all, he was sitting here in the rain, by the Quidditch pitch, having a quasi-civil conversation with Sirius Black, ex-resident of Azkaban, and friend and god-parent du jour to Harry-the-Golden-Hero Potter. Feeling enormously unsettled, slightly nauseated, and unsure of the right answer to anything, Malfoy said the first thing that came to mind.

“Touching speech, Black... really. Had me tearing up in a few places.”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, eyeing him as if trying to figure him out, before snorting sarcastically.

“That the best you can do?”

“On short notice,” Draco answered.

They stared in different directions for quite a while after that, discomfort creeping in with every passing silent moment before Malfoy finally made up his mind. Chewing on the inside of his cheek and inwardly buoying himself up for a feeling of inevitable shame, he finally regarded Sirius with an unreadable expression and made his voice sound as nonchalant as he could.

“Tell me Potter won't be renting the room next to me. Heroism before breakfast gives me the dry heaves.”

Sirius studied him for a moment, blankly, before the realisation set in that Malfoy was actually accepting his offer in the only way he knew how. He smiled slightly.

“Harry's got other ideas, I think.”

“So he won't be living there?”

“No,” said Sirius. “He's getting his own place.”

“I suppose he can afford it,” sneered Draco uncharitably.

“That's one reason, yes,” said Sirius.

Malfoy sat quietly a few seconds more, thinking the situation through before speaking again.

“He'll be visiting though...”

“I imagine so with his father and me living there,” Sirius answered dryly.

Malfoy shot him an unpleasant smile. “So I reckon as he's your godson you won't want me telling you what I really think of him.”

Sirius gave him a sour smile. “Not unless you want an arm growing out of your arse.”

Suppressing a grin, Malfoy attempted to look thoughtful and chewed on his upper lip for a moment before answering.

“I suppose I can live with that.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “The arm in your arse or holding your tongue?”

“Have to get back to you on that.”

Laughing aloud, Sirius slapped a hand on the wet ground before standing up and swiping the long, damp, clinging hair from his face.

“All right then, it's settled. I'm heading back in the castle. I'm giving you ten minutes, and if you don't haul your arse inside by that time to let Ginny Weasley know you're back, I'm using any means necessary to drag you back in myself, got it?”

“You'd do that, wouldn't you?” asked Malfoy.

Sirius grinned wolfishly. “With pleasure.”

“I thought so.”

Smiling slightly to himself, Draco waiting until the sound of Black's long strides had faded away before getting up himself and heading back into the castle.

******************************************************************

“Harry we really shouldn't,” said Hermione a short time later, slightly annoyed at the hand Harry insisted on holding over her eyes as he marched her along the hall toward the great double doors leading outside. “I keep telling you Ginny's just as upset as she was earlier-”

“She'll be fine,” said Harry resolutely, trying to keep the grin on his face from coming through in his voice. “I'm sure Malfoy'll be back any time now.”

“He said he'd be back this afternoon and it's already dark out, isn't it?” said Hermione, trying in vain to pull Harry's hand off of her eyes. “And I don't care what Sirius said, I think it's a long shot Malfoy's somehow outside sitting in the drizzle and deciding not to come in yet. How does he know? And it doesn't sound like Malfoy to sit out in the rain anyway. It's beneath him.”

“I'm sure Sirius is right. He usually is when it comes to Malfoy oddly enough. Now stop worrying. No... no Hermione,” said Harry, pressing his hand even more firmly against her eyes as she continued to pull on it and marching her even quicker towards the doors. “The whole point of a surprise is that you don't know it's coming.”

“I still won't know what's coming, even if you do take your hand from my eyes,” said Hermione petulantly. “Why can't I see where you're marching me anyway? I know we're headed outside. I've seen outside, Harry. Discovered Hogwarts has an outdoors a long time ago. Sorry I won't be shocked.”

“Funny,” said Harry as they reached the doors.

Before they could open them however, a tall, damp figure yanked one open and walked inside, shaking the rain from his hair.

“Oy, Harry!” said Sirius, grinning as he saw them and beginning to saunter past. He watched as Hermione tried pulling Harry's hand from her eyes again and smirked. “Nice night for a walk, isn't it?”

“Nice night for a walk?” Hermione echoed in exasperation, following the sound of his voice. “It's drizzling outside, haven't you seen? I think Harry's lost his marbles. Wait... did you find Malfoy?”

“Yes I did,” said Sirius, pausing. “Knew he'd be somewhere out there brooding about life and how it's worthless now he's got nothing. All too familiar.”

“Now he's got nothing?” said Hermione, beginning to turn and walk towards his voice. “What d'you mean 'now he's got nothing'? What's happened-”

“You'll find out soon enough so don't worry about it,” said Sirius as Harry shot him a quizzical look too.

“But I don't want Ginny sitting up there all alone if Malfoy's not going to-”

“He's on his way back to her now; I've made sure of it,” Sirius interrupted bracingly. “Don't you worry on it. Go on and have a nice night.”

“But I-”

“Not another word!” said Sirius's fading voice as he walked away from them. “It'll all work out. It's been worked out. Go on with you, then.”

Hermione frowned as she listened to Sirius's footsteps fade away. “Well I wonder what that was all...” Twisting in Harry's embrace to face him, she turned her face up to where she imagined his was. “Harry maybe we should go back. If there's anything wrong I don't want to be wandering about outside-”

“Everything is fine, you heard him,” said Harry, feeling slightly panicky that Hermione might protest him. “Come on, love. We've had enough drama for a while, haven't we? Let's let them sort it out and let's spend some time together.”

“But what if they-”

“You know we've only got tonight and tomorrow left here,” said Harry pleadingly. “Come on. Just come with me for a while. Then we can go back and you can worry as much as you want to.”

“They might need us now, Harry-” Hermione began again.

“I want to take a walk with you,” said Harry, gently turning her back around towards the door, bending down to whisper in her ear, and putting on his most persuasive voice. “I want to spend time with just you, here, before we have to go. The Leaving Feast is tomorrow night, love. Come on. Whatever is going on with Malfoy and Ginny will be going on when we get back too.”

Hermione paused for a moment, during which time Harry could feel his heart beating hard enough through his sweater that he was sure she could feel it against the back of her head. Finally...

“Alright then. I do want to take a walk with you. We haven't had much time together lately, have we?”

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding and moved them towards the doors again, pulling one open for her. “No, that's right, we haven't.”

“And I do want to see whatever this is you've done,” said Hermione, smiling as Harry opened the door for her and crossing her arms over one another in the damp, chill air. “I love surprises, you know.”

“You?” said Harry in a scoffing voice as he helped her down the steps. “No you don't. You hate surprises.”

“I do not!” said Hermione, beginning to pull Harry's hand from her eyes again so that she might glare at him. Harry held fast though, and she sighed as he marched her along the wet grounds. “I love them! You know how I loved planning that surprise party for Ginny's birthday last year-”

“Yeah, you love them when they aren't aimed at you,” said Harry, laughing teasingly at her. “Planning someone else's surprise you're in the know, aren't you? When it's you're own you get impatient, and you know it. Can't control the situation then, can you? But don't worry, I still love you,” he added quickly when he saw Hermione's mouth drop open in indignation.

“Well that's a relief,” said Hermione dryly as he purposefully continued their marching. “Whatever surprise you've got for me might not turn out half as romantic as you hoped if you've decided you don't love me anymore.”

Harry chuckled and leaned down to whisper to her as he led her slightly to the right. “That'll never happen. I love everything about you. I even love when you get impatient... especially when I'm the one who gets to do it to you. You're really cute when you're irritated, you know that don't you?”

Feeling slightly mollified but not sure if she should be, Hermione made a slight noise in the back of her throat somewhere between annoyance and confusion and clamped her lips shut, allowing Harry to lead her where he would.

Harry grinned.

They stopped some time later and Harry finally removed his hand from her eyes, turning her around to look at him. She took a moment to survey where they were.

“The lake,” said Hermione in a neutral tone as she swiped the damp from her cheeks. “You've taken me to the lake.”

Harry grinned hugely again and nodded, the moonlight glinting off of his wet hair which still managed to stick up all over despite the rain trying to plaster it down.

Hermione drew her eyebrows together and gave Harry a sidelong look. “You know I've seen the lake, don't you Harry? It's very nice taking a walk alone with you, but I'm not sure where the surprise is in all this-”

“Want my jacket?” Harry interrupted, shrugging the black leather off of his shoulders and handing it to her. Hesitating for a moment, Hermione nodded and allowed him to place it over her shoulders. “Bit cold out here. Sorry we didn't go back for yours before I dragged you out.”

“I did think that was odd... hang on,” said Hermione, feeling something rather heavy and stiff stuck in the inside pocket of his jacket and smiling. “What've you brought?”

Harry continued to grin nervously as she brought it out and looked at it.

“The Daily Prophet?” said Hermione, unrolling it and looking at the date at the top. “How did you manage to get a hold of one of these? McGonagoll said the paper was holding off on their next edition until they could manage to get all the information they'd learnt at the memorial service sorted out...”

“Well,” said Harry sheepishly. “That's not exactly true. It did come out yesterday.”

Hermione eyed him shrewdly. “I can see that, what with yesterday's date on it... I've been absolutely dying to see how your interview with Rita turned out. I'll murder her if she didn't do it right... What did you do, then? How did you get one? No one else here got theirs, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Harry, shuffling his feet and for some reason, looking nervously at the ground. “I asked McGonagoll to stop delivery of it to the school... just for one day!” he added, looking up and seeing the look of shock on Hermione's face.

She frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“I had my reasons,” Harry answered cryptically.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “What reasons might those be?”

“See? I told you. Can't stand surprises-”

“Alright, alright,” Hermione interrupted with a sigh. “How did you manage it with Professor McGonagoll then? I'm allowed to know that, aren't I?”

“Pulled some strings,” Harry answered her, smirking. “You know... Boy-Who-Lived and all that.”

Hermione made a scoffing noise and gave Harry a playful punch on the arm, with which he stumbled and feigned extreme pain. She laughed.

“Don't think for one second I believe McGonagoll allowed you to pull strings because you're the Boy-Who-Lived. She'd sooner put you in detention with Professor Snape! Why did you ask her to-”

“Well go on and read it then,” said Harry, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “You'll find out.”

Hermione sent him an inquisitive smile but unrolled the paper and began to read.

****************************************************************************

“Ron, it's positively freezing out here!” Lavender protested as she and Ron walked hurriedly along the wet grounds towards the lake.

“Well you're the one who wanted to come with me,” said Ron bracingly. “Besides it's not cold, it's just wet. You won't melt.”

Lavender scowled. “The wet is what makes it cold, Ronald. Just tell me what we're doing, would you?”

“I told you, I can't say,” said Ron with a slightly panicky edge to his voice. “I can't tell anyone until I've done it, alright? I promised. I'm already late, I can't believe how late I am actually -”

“Well you're the one who wanted to snog in the Room of Requirement,” said Lavender, letting go of Ron's hand and pulling her coat more tightly about her frame as she stumbled along after him. “It isn't my fault you wanted to go to a room that didn't sense you required keeping track of the time.”

“We're leaving, aren't we? We won't have a chance to snog in there again. And the time wasn't exactly on my mind at the moment,” said Ron defensively, his voice breaking a bit as he broke into a trot. “Oh, I'm dead. I'm done for. I've gone and ruined it and I'll never be forgiven.”

“Who's got to forgive you?” asked Lavender between laboured breaths as she jogged along beside him. “Just tell me what's going on, will you? You're gone all day looking for a flat with Harry, then you want to snog, then we're running along outside in the rain. We haven't had time to talk at all, have we? I wanted to know if you and Harry found some place to live!”

“Found some places, yeah,” said Ron stopping suddenly and letting his eyes scan around the lake. “Don't think we'll be living there, though.”

“Oh, were they run down?” asked Lavender, stopping beside him suddenly and trying to catch her breath. “I know some of the flats in Diagon Alley need repairs but I've always thought the old wood added character. My sister and her husband say-”

“No,” said Ron. “Not run down... just too crowded. Harry and I'll need some space between us, you know.”

“Oh... yeah...” said Lavender, slightly confused. “I don't suppose you want a flat so small you'll be living right on top of one another. But Ron, you know beggars can't be choosers. You don't exactly have a job yet so your money situation's going to be tight for a while... not like Harry I suppose.”

Ron stopped scanning to frown down at her. “I've told you already, Dad's got me a starting position at the Ministry in Muggle Affairs. It doesn't matter I don't really want to work there. It's a job and that's all I need right now. I'll move up.”

Lavender looked sceptical. “Well I don't know. It seems an awful long way to climb moving from Muggle Affairs to Unspeakable,” but at Ron's angry look, she added, “But I know you'll do it! I know it's what you want and I know you'll get there. Yes, you're right. Muggle Affairs will pay the bills, and you'll move up from there.”

“That's right,” said Ron, looking slightly pacified and scanning the lake area again. “Everyone starts somewhere, that's what Dad says. Meanwhile I can be in training for Unspeakable... sort of learn from them what it's all about.”

“Ron, they're Unspeakables,” said Lavender, “they can't tell you what it's about.”

“I know I just meant I'll find out what it takes for me to become one, that's all! Look, we'll talk on it later, alright? Right now I've really got to... Oy! Alright,” he said grabbing her hand and walking very swiftly again, “There's where we've got to go.”

“Over there?” said Lavender, squinting her eyes to where Ron had just pointed. “But, Ron isn't that-”

“Yeah it is, and I really don't want him pissed at me at the moment so let's get there quick, shall we?”

“But... but they look like they're spending time alone. I don't think they want us barging in on-”

“We won't be barging in on them, just trust me,” said Ron moving even more quickly and dragging Lavender along behind him. “You'll see in a minute, alright?”

Lavender sighed the sigh of the weary and allowed herself to be led along again. “Alright, whatever you say.”

************************************************************

Harry stood nervously chewing on the side of his thumb and scanning the grounds over the top of Hermione's head as she continued reading aloud, getting progressively more nervous as she began to reach the end of the article.

“ 'It had to be done,' Potter continues with a solemn look. 'It wasn't heroics. I didn't do anything more than anyone else did out there. At least I came away from it alive, there were plenty out there who didn't and were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to see Voldemort and his followers didn't win. But the bravest of all was Professor Dumbledore. He did something for me I never expected from him and I never did anything to deserve. He jumped in front of me and let himself take a sword that was meant for me. Didn't even hesitate.'

I can see Potter is struggling not to cry at this moment, tears filling those beautiful green eyes, and I give him a moment to compose himself before he continues.

'I don't think I'll ever be able to fully fathom why he did that'...”

“Oh Harry,” said Hermione, looking up from the article with a tearful gaze and then noticing Harry's stance and expression. “You've got no reason to be nervous, you know. You did beautifully.”

Harry stopped chewing on his thumb long enough to claw a hand through his hair and scoff at what Hermione had just read. “I wasn't about to cry there, you know. Merlin, I hate it when she does that. I told Rita to hold off on the embellishments but I guess she just can't help herself, can she? Whatever sells the paper. Anyway, go on.”

Hermione nodded and continued reading. “ 'I never knew all of what he was thinking anyway. Professor Dumbledore was a mysterious man. But he was the bravest and most selfless that I know and he's done more for the Wizarding World in the time he had on this earth than I think anyone will ever know. He stood up against ridicule and slander and continued to trying selling the message that Voldemort was alive even when it looked like everyone hated him... He's the most astounding man I've ever known, and the world is better because he was in it. I'll miss him greatly. The world will miss him... But everyone out there gave their best. It was a bloody nightmare. Death everywhere, curses flying, swords and arrows, dead bodies on the ground to fall over if you weren't careful... Even in all that there wasn't one person on our side who ran from the battle once it started. There were Ministry members, and Aurors mixed with Professors from Hogwarts and even students, and each one of them fought as if they'd always been trained to handle it. They were scared to death but they stood their ground. We never would have won if it hadn't been for them... if it hadn't been for the fact that they refused not to fight for what they believed in. The Wizarding World owes them their lives and their freedom. I hope they'll always be remembered for the heroes they are.'

Potter sits quietly for a moment before continuing.

'And I owe my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, my own life. If they hadn't refused to listen to me when I told them not to help me with Voldemort, I probably wouldn't have made it.' They've always been there for me. Even when everyone else thought I was crazy and wanted nothing to do with me, they never left my side. They've put their lives on the line for me more times that I can count.”

Hermione began to cry. Harry came to stand behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Go on love. Every bit of it is true.”

“ 'I love them both more than anyone else. I won't ever be able to repay them for what they did for me out there. The battle was over for them, and they could have stayed back and kept safe but they wouldn't hear of it. They broke through the defence I had raised to keep them out and helped me even when I didn't want their help. I owe them everything.'

Potter sits silent for a while and I have no choice but to let him. I can see he is thinking on what his two best friends mean to him, and on what the battle has cost all of them. He has hit on every facet of what the war meant, what it accomplished, and the high price he, his friends, and all who fought there, paid for our freedom from Voldemort and his tyranny.' “

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sobbed, lowering the paper and wiping her eyes as she stared out at the lake. Harry rested his chin on her head and hugged her from behind. “You did a marvellous job. I can't have thought you could do any better. And what you said about Ron and I...”

“I meant it all. I don't know where I'd be if not for the two of you,” Harry remarked quietly, but then stopped hugging her from behind to pull the hand holding the paper back up to eye level. “But go on. There's a bit more to it.”

“What?” Hermione raised the paper to her eyes again and wondered how she had missed where it said the article was continued on a later page. “Oh, how did I miss that? I reckon it just sounded final at the end there. Alright.”

She rifled the paper to page twenty two, smoothed it out, found where the article was continued and began to read again.

“ ' As for me, Rita Skeeter, star reporter for the Daily Prophet, I can only sit silently as well and think on what they did for all of us. We will never be able to repay those who have gone. But those who remain, I hope we will never forget their sacrifice, and never forget how close we came to living in a much altered world.

Harry Potter has a final word on returning to normal life, and to a better life, that he asked me, Rita Skeeter, to make certain to print. As we've been fast friends going on three years, I find myself hard pressed to refuse him anything, and indeed feel I owe him something personally for what he's done. Here is his message:'

“I can only hope that everyone who went through the battle will eventually remember how to live again. Myself, I feel like finally I can actually begin. I have one person in particular to thank for that, and that's my best friend, and girlfriend, Hermione Granger. She's given me a reason to go on every day of my life since I met her. It's her above all I want to live for, and I know I fell in love with her from the moment I clapped eyes on her when we were kids, heading to our first year at Hogwarts. She's been everything to me since that day, and I can't help but hope she'll keep being my everything for the rest of our lives. That's why I've decided to ask her to marry me on the night she reads this, and I hope she'll accept.”

Article by Rita Skeeter, reporter.' “

Hermione began to shake. Tears streamed down her face as she slowly lowered the paper hardly caring any more that the rain had soaked her clothes enough that they were uncomfortably stuck to her body. A sudden light from above, something streaming brighter than the moon suddenly blazed overhead, and Hermione looked up. Words were etched in a soft pink glow across the sky.

I love you as wide and high and deep as my soul can reach for the end of life.

I love you as passionately as I used to grieve before you.

I love you to the end of every day's most quiet need.

I love you with a love I'd thought lost with my childhood faith.

I love you with the breath, smiles and tears of all my life.

And if God chooses, I'll love you even more after dying.

Slowly she turned around to see that Harry was no longer standing, but was kneeling on the wet ground in front of her, with a small box in his hand.

“Oh... oh my god.”

“Everything up there is how I feel about you,” said Harry quietly, his voice shaking almost imperceptibly. “I love you.... that seems like an overused phrase, but it's not... because those three words hold my life in them. I love you. I... love... you. I want you to marry me. I don't want to wait any longer. Please marry me, Hermione.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sobbed. “How.. how did you-”

“Told McGonagoll everything,” he smiled. “She agreed to have paper delivery stopped to the school until you could read it first.”

“Why... why did you cover my eyes when-”

“Decoy. Throw you off the trail. Didn't want you guessing, did I?”

Hermione shook her head, feeling bewildered. “But... but what about you and Ron.. today.. looking at flats-”

“Wasn't for me and Ron. It was for us. You and me.”

“Us!” Hermione gasped, mindless of the fact that Harry was still on the ground holding out the ring. “You tricked me! You and Ron- you tricked me!”

“Yep,” said Harry, looking inordinately proud of himself.

“And Rita?” asked Hermione, her head spinning. “I don't know how on earth you got her to print-”

“Owed me, didn't she?” said Harry, grinning wickedly. “After I stuck up for her with McGonagoll she wasn't going to refuse me anything.”

“And... and the words up there?” she asked, pointing a shaky finger at the softly glowing poem still blazing overhead. “Those words up there... you didn't... you weren't able to- I mean I didn't see you- and I would have-”

“Got Ron to do it. He's probably off snogging Lavender now. I'm sure that's why he was late in the first place. I'll kill him later.”

“Oh and the ring! Oh! Where did you... you didn't just pick that out today as well-”

“This is my mum's ring. Dad gave it to me at Christmas. Slipped it to me without anyone noticing.”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione sobbed even louder, her hands over her mouth, muffling her words. “Harry your Mum's ring! Oh it's so beautiful!”

Harry smiled patiently at her. “Want to wear it?”

“Oh Harry! Yes! Yes, of course I want to wear- yes, YES, I'll marry you! Of course! Oh Harry!”

She dropped to her knees on the ground beside him and Harry held her trembling hand steady so that he could slip it on. One larger than average diamond sparkled in the moonlight on a plain white gold band. To Hermione, it was perfection.

“Don't think I've ever heard you say 'oh Harry' more times in one setting,” he said as he grabbed both of her hands. “Not that I'm complaining, mind.”

Hermione, gazing mesmerized at the ring on her finger finally registered what Harry had said to her. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Don't tease me, I'm in shock!”

“Good shock or bad shock?”

For an answer, Hermione suddenly launching herself forward to land on top of Harry in the grass. “I love you too,” she murmured to him, planting a warm kiss on his lips. “I love you so much I can hardly bear it. Yes, I want to marry you. I've wanted to marry you for so long I can't remember when I began wanting it.”

Harry rolled her underneath him and began kissing her in earnest, their feelings coupled with the frustration of not spending enough time together lately quickly turning it into more than what was appropriate for what might become a public place at any moment, however unlikely.

“Harry... we're... we're outside...”

“And?” Harry breathed, tonguing her ear lobe and moving downward towards her neck, making her shiver.

“And someone might see us,” Hermione hissed as he slid a hand underneath her jumper to rub the smooth skin of her belly.

“No one out here to see us,” said Harry absently, moving another hand to stroke the outside of her thigh.

“Wasn't Ron just-”

“I'm sure I told him not to stick around. He wouldn't want to see this anyway. Probably send him over the edge.”

Hermione sighed, sliding her hands under Harry's own jumper to smooth over the muscled planes of his back, and around toward his chest. Harry shivered beneath her touch, and she smiled.

“I suppose a bit longer won't hurt.”

“Won't hurt a bit,” said Harry, nuzzling her neck.

“But tomorrow... Oh Harry, everyone's going to find out now the paper will be delivered,” said Hermione suddenly, a mixture of feelings at the notion of everyone finding out the boy-who-lived was now engaged to Hermione Granger making her slightly anxious. “We won't have a moment's peace, you know that don't you?”

Harry lifted his head to look at her and grinned, his crooked smile combined with unruly hair and a jumper pulled halfway up his abdomen making Hermione's heartbeat quicken considerably.

“I want everyone to know,” he answered with a wicked wiggle of his eyebrows. “I want them all to know I'm engaged to you. I'll be the envy of every bloke around.”

“Rubbish,” Hermione scoffed, smiling. “I'll have murderous females everywhere searching me out, wands drawn and ready. There'll be no forgiveness for me now I've taken you off the market.”

“Technically it's me whose taken you off the market,” said Harry. “Anyway I don't want to think on that now. I just want to spend all night with you. We can worry about everyone's explosive reactions tomorrow.”

Feeling happier than she'd ever felt in her entire life, Hermione nodded. “Alright.”

Any more words were forgotten in a blur of falling rain, hands and whispered promises.

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A/N: Next and final chapter, the wedding and the end. :0) Thanks for never giving up on me guys. You're all the best! I hope you enjoyed this one, however long it was in coming. By the way, the beautiful piece of poetry used in this chapter is by the very late, very wonderful poet, Walt Whitman, who rocks my ever loving world. Much love, Walt. You were everything in a writer I could ever aspire to be. <3 <3