Torn

Disclaimer: All I have dibs on are those characters you don't recognize (petra, adel, marcus weber, Collins, Tyler Higgins, etc.) The title is yet again from a White Stripes song.

A/N: You know, a review from acoustics1220 (your review rocks!) made me realize how long I've been working on this baby. Wow. 04. That's insane. I keep treating it as if it were a novel and you'd all remember everything I've written from the beginning, despite the long time it takes for me to update. But no, this isn't a novel. It's not a book, and all of the hidden things clues and whatnot could be forgotten. Well I'm rambling as I often do and my point here is: I hope I'm not dragging this on.

As promised, here's the next chapter. Yeah, it's a long one and I was debating on whether or not if I should divide it into a third, but meh. Oh, and I must apologize if Hermione, Ginny or Wormtail come off OoC. I really didn't mean it. This is just my take on the kind of man Wormtail is. As for Gin, and Hermione, I just wanted some fun. Enjoy, and a drinks to those who have read and reviewed.

******

The man known as Wormtail was straining not to tremble. Marcus Weber smirked as he noticed this.

“Marcus.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Follow him.”

Weber bowed and followed the older man out of the room.

Once through the door, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing grew easy. He was never much for torture. That was often left to his partner Collins, if the situation ever called for it, and most often than naught, it did.

Marcus Weber trailed softy behind the shorter man whose bald head glinted in the pale light of the moonlit corridors. Weber was a man who prided himself in his intelligence. He was one of the first among his house to transform before the age requirement. He had not only graduated from Hogwarts, but also from three very prestigious post Hogwarts schools as well.

None of them however could ever satisfy his lust for knowledge until of course that one fateful night at the Malfoy ball. Only the very rich, very influential people were asked to attend. It was a great honour and of course ultimately a terrible bore. For one thing, none of the guests could hold a conversation with him that seemed even remotely intelligible.

Marcus had spent most of the night, drink in hand, and a polite smile plastered on his face whenever members of the ministry would approach him, often praising him for his work at the many schools he had attended. Some even offered him a job, to which he politely but firmly declined.

He never danced and he never exchanged any looks with any of the well dressed and finely shaped witches. For though Marcus was amply granted the gift of thought, he was exempted from the right amount of estrogen that would have blessed him with good looks a father would have been proud of. Thankfully, both his parents were dead, as they were no help to him in rising from the gutter.

It was during that night, he had met Lucius Malfoy. A man whose power was as great as his wealth.

“If I may have a word, Marcus.”

“Of course.”

The man had taken Marcus into a well furnished room well away from the nauseating guests. Lucius filled Marcus's glass and said, “You're a very intelligent wizard, Marcus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Formalities aren't needed here.”

“Very well then, Lucius. What is it that you wanted to discuss?”

“As I have said, you're a very intelligent man. My master has noticed your work and he approves.”

At this, Marcus had quirked a thoughtful brow and thus allowing Lucius to continue, “He extends his welcome and bids you to meet him tonight.”

“Tonight?” Marcus had repeated, somewhat caught off guard.

“Yes,” Lucius had answered, smoothly downing the last of his drink.

“And if I refuse?”

“Believe me, Marcus. You will do no such thing.”

He indeed did no such thing, and the first meeting with the Dark Lord that night had changed his life forever.

Now he wondered, as he always did, why his master would bother to employ an imbecile such as the man he followed at this moment. Granted, the Dark Lord had his reasons, and it was usually the stupid ones that fought the hardest, but this man, this Wormtail had done nothing of the sort. The Dark Lord never placed him in the front lines. Never had the man named Wormtail been on missions that required skill, strength, or intelligence.

For as long as Marcus had known him, Wormtail had never left the master's side. All that the Dark Lord ever used him for was surveillance, but even that was laughable. A rat! Really! The Dark Lord had many Death Eaters who could have easily done what the old, fumbling Wormtail was doing. Marcus knew exactly what the man was: a waste. He didn't know why the Dark Lord wouldn't just be rid of him.

Marcus looked the man up and down. His shoulders were stooped, his eyes were twitchy and he often scratched himself, much like his animagus form would do. The man was useless and yet the Dark Lord had rewarded his uselessness with a gift. The silver fingers of the hand twitched in what Marcus thought to be anticipation; he could only guess, for they did it often.

It should be me. He thought as he gazed at the man's hand grimly. The two of them approached the double doors that held the prisoners. I should have that. I should be the Dark Lord's man. I should be the one who trails behind him, who oversees the procedures. I should be the one with the power. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't even know the power that he holds; the power he is capable of wielding, the weak minded, snivelling rat of a man.

“When we step into the room, I don't want you saying a word to any of `em. Just take a girl and go. You already know how it works,” Wormtail said, breaking Marcus from his thoughts.

Marcus tore his hungry gaze from Wormtail's hand. “Don't think that I'll fall in line with words like that,” he said with a laugh.

Marcus watched Wormtail pause in his step.

“The Dark Lord put me in charge.”

“Really? And you think that because you're the nanny I have to bow and scrape to you?” Marcus leaned towards the man who was shaking slightly and said in a smooth voice, “Let me tell you something, Wormtail, I am not a man to be trifled with. I have ten times the amount of strength and skill than you do, and whatever experience you think you've had is rubbish compared to what I do and have done for my master. You're nothing but a nanny here, Wormtail. My master has no other use for you other than that. So don't jump if I decide to say a word or two to the poppets.”

With that, Marcus smugly turned to one of the guards. He was about to order them to stand aside when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He suppressed a smile.

Now let's see what that gift can do.

He turned to see a rather heavily breathing shlump of a man, red in the face and trembling violently. The guards looked on in interest.

“S-see this?” Wormtail held up the silver hand that glinted dangerously in Marcus' hungry eyes.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

A flash of silver, a choking gag, and Marcus suddenly found it hard to breath. The hand grasped and held onto his neck. It squeezed with a slight twitch and Marcus felt the blood rush to his head. His hands grabbed at the cold steel that clung to him like a vise. His chest squeezed, his lungs burned, his hands shook and struggled to get it off, but they couldn't pry open the trap that held his throat.

The room was spinning and his vision blurred until the plump man with the pointed nose and small, watery eyes became a murky mess. Marcus' hearing was still functioning perfectly however and his sense of smell worked like a charm, for he heard a sizzling sound and smelled the faint sickening aroma of burned flesh. The strange thing was, he didn't feel anything near a burning sensation save for the fire in his lungs as they bellowed for air.

“N-now, you l-listen, Marcus,” he heard Wormtail say in an angry voice.

Marcus didn't know whether to scream or to laugh, for Wormtail still found himself stuttering though it was clear that he held the upper hand.

“I've been with w-with my master much longer than y-you. And I'll have y-you know that no matter what you think, I'll always be here. He'll always have use for me. D-Death Eaters come and go, but I'll always be at His side.”

Another twitch and the pressure increased ten fold. Marcus' hands grew frantic now. Wormtail continued to talk, and with each word his voice gained more confidence and grew dangerously low.

“Because I've s-sacrificed all for him. I've remained faithful, and he knows that I'm the only one who asks for nothing more.”

Two steps sent Marcus crashing into the hard surface of the double doors and the guards stepped away, smirking slightly. Gasping, eyes bulging in disbelief and desperation, he clawed at the hand that wouldn't let go.

“You'll listen to me, Marcus because my word is His.”

Then with a jerk of the wrist Wormtail threw the man and he slid along the floor, gasping and shuddering, and crying out because he now felt the searing flames race across his neck. An imprint of a hand kissed his tender skin.

His vision dimmed and before he succumbed to the darkness he heard Wormtail say, “Wake him when I come back out.”

Then the doors shut, and his head fell.

*****

Wormtail hated it. He despised it. From the moment Voldemort had it wielded onto the stump of his arm the night he had given a piece of himself freely, he had always wondered why. Why was this given to him? Why had his master rewarded him with something capable of such great power? Then the morning after he had come to realize the true nature of the token. It was both a blessing and a curse. A gift and a nuisance.

It was as if the hand had a mind of it's own. It thirsted for blood. For something to crush, to squeeze, to kill. Always this gnawing hunger, this burning need and the man formerly known as Peter Pettigrew soon found that he had to fight the raging thirst day and night. He feared that if he did not, it would consume him.

Always it would twitch with the constant yearning to grasp onto something and reduce it to ash, much like it had done to the many branches, cups and banisters Wormtail held in the early days of rebirth when he had thought it to be a pretty little thing.

As the days dwindled though, it soon became an aching throb, a nagging voice that urged him to squeeze, to crush. And it frightened him.

Now, always having to fight the internal battle, Wormtail had managed to reduce the ravenous need to a pulsing twitch of the silver fingers. Each twitch and he would grind his teeth in frustration cursing the day he had met his master. The anger festered and broiled into hate and hate into fear. For what could he do? What angered him the most was that the Dark Lord knew. He knew what he had given his servant and He knew the servant's feelings.

There was a part of him that was thankful for the Dark Lord's unfathomable choice of sparing his life and there was another part of him that was ashamed for the thankful feelings. Maybe the Dark Lord liked the idea of having a servant who both loved and hated him. One thing was certain, Wormtail knew himself; He knew that he was not a courageous man and that his loyalty sprang from his need for self-preservation.

Why he was chosen to be a Gryffindor was beyond him, even to this day. All he knew was that in the past James and Sirius were the strong ones. They could protect him.

Then two things happened: word of the Dark Lord's rising power reached his ears, and James Potter met Lily Evans; Beautiful, sweet, spirited Lily with the shining eyes.

Wormtail's feelings for Lily were very much like his present feelings for his master. He loved her and he hated her. Though while his love for his master was more of an adoration of power, his love for Lily was in fact an adoration of person, of character.

He loved her because she was the only person who treated him with respect. Out of every wizard, witch, or muggle that Peter Pettigrew had met in his long and fearful life it was only Lily, sweet fiery haired Lily who looked at him and truly saw him. It was she and only she that had treated him like a man. Like a wizard. And he loved her for that.

But from the moment James laid eyes on her, Peter knew that his friend's eyes would be for her and only her. He knew that all protection, and all thought for him was lost. He was only an after thought in James' mind, cast aside and shadowed. Oh, James still had eyes for smirking Sirius, and Remus' predicament always left room for consolation and care, but for Peter there was nothing. He was merely James' shadow.

And when Lily blossomed before the tousled haired boy's eyes, Peter became nothing more than a wisp of smoke that was always present and always overlooked.

This was why he hated her. This was why he loved her, and this was why she haunted him in his already dream filled sleep.

There was Lily laughing. Lily reading. Lily dancing as the snow gently drifted around her bundled form. The sun's rays casting a glow on her skin as she scooped fallen books into her arms. Her smile, radiant and her eyes bright.

Lily Evans.

The woman who respected him.

The friendly witch in Hogwarts.

The girl James loved.

The mother of Harry Potter.

Harry Potter.

The boy who lived.

The boy who spared his life and in doing so, weaved a bond so strong that Wormtail often found himself struggling to think of a way to unwind it and repay the debt.

Lily Evans' son.

The girl he loved and hated.

This all went round in circles in his mind with bits of memory thrown into the fray causing him to turn in upon himself in remorse, frustration and guilt.

“Peter,” she had said with a friendly smile.

“Hello Lily,” he had said with nervous eyes. By then he had already been to see his master and had the Dark Mark seared onto his skin.

“I'm glad you've come. I haven't seen you in ages. James has been trying to reach you.”

“I've been busy.”

“Too busy to floo in to your friends?”

A blushing look. A warming smile.

“Would you like to see him?”

“Oh, I-I-”

“His name is Harry, Peter.”

“Oh. Harry, erm, t-that's a, erm, nice name.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

“No.”

Wormtail shut his eyes against the memory of Lily's frowning features. He shook himself and the memory faded away, left to be perused in the darkness of his bedroom. Now, however, he had a task to complete.

The room was dark.

“Lumos.”

There. That was better. Two girls were asleep. One was curled up on the floor and the other was slumped against the wall with another girl's head pillowed on her lap. The youngest was awake and she hovered over the third girl who moaned in her sleep.

“I heard shouting,” she said quietly, but Peter paid no attention to her for the slumbering girl curled on her side suddenly captivated him.

He knelt and leaned over her, bringing the light closer to her features. Red hair cascaded in ripples around her head and in one fierce jerk he was suddenly pulled into the past.

“Hello Peter.”

“Lily,” he whispered aloud, waking the sleeping girl.

Her eyes jerked open. Not Green, but silver, like the hand now joined to his body. Peter shuddered.

The girl gasped and lashed out. She caught him square in the jaw.

“Stop it,” he hissed catching her hands in his. His jaw ached as he spoke.

She screamed and kicked.

“Silencio.”

The screaming stopped. The kicking didn't.

“Stop it! I'm not going to hurt you, girl! Stop- will you just-”

“Her name is Adel,” the youngest added, not too helpfully.

So this was the one that caused so much havoc and cost two Death Eaters their lives. Wormtail almost smiled. Almost.

“Adel. If you don't stop I'll put a full body bind curse on you, and believe me you won't like it then.”

She glared at him, then after one final struggle she stopped and in return he gave her back her voice. “Why were you looking at me?” she said suspiciously.

Wormtail chose to ignore her and he went over to the youngest.

“She's sick,” the child said.

“I know.”

“Her name is Orla. Can you help her?”

“My master sent me here to do that.”

He looked at the child who had Orla's head on her lap. The girl cringed at the mention of his master and she cast a worried look at Orla.

“I'm Emma, and that's Petra. If you're also here to take some blood then take me. Orla's sick and Adel's still shaken from that curse you wankers set on her.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen. Orla's the same age. Adel`s thirteen, and Petra`s eleven.”

Adel moved into Peter's line of vision and her appearance unsettled him. She looked far too much like Lily for his liking.

“Alright,” was all he said before he set to work on Orla's arm.

*****

Harry yawned. Was it possible to feel like your brain has turned to mush? If it was, then Harry would have loved to say that his brain was indeed now mush-like. Or was it his head? Either way it didn't matter. Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore were not worse than lessons with Snape, but they weren't pleasant either.

Still it was great to know that any embarrassing memories wouldn't be mocked or gawked at.

Though there was the one time when an inkling of the first night that had started it all seeped out and through.

(Cue awkward pause)

“Well, let us just pretend that I have never seen that, right Harry?”

“Erm, right professor.”

“Alright, and once again: clear your mind, Harry.”

But after that it was quite hard to do so. All Harry could see was the once fond memory now soiled by the Headmaster's unsettling presence saying, 'Now that really must be awkward Harry.” and “Do think she likes that?” or “Now that is something that surely must have been illegal when I was your age.”

In short, the session ended soon after that as Harry quickly came to find it unbelievably hard to concentrate.

On the bright side, he was improving. He yawned once more and suddenly grew mildly aware of clicking footsteps pattering his way. Instantly curious, Harry quickened his pace to see what was coming towards him in such a hurry. It was, after all a Saturday morning and clearly people were either outside, still in bed, or enjoying a late breakfast. It was far too early on a Saturday for anyone to be randomly roaming the halls and in such a hurry as well.

Heavy panting soon accompanied the clicking and Harry felt the sudden urge to grip his wand. He brushed the wariness away and slowed his walk, thinking that it just may be Filch chasing after Peeves, but if it was then wouldn't the heavy breathing be more like a wheeze? And he knew for a fact that Peeves was merrily screeching “Snape smells” on a completely different floor.

The sounds grew louder until suddenly Hermione with hair and robes billowing about her, rounded the corner and gasped, “Harry!”

Harry only had time to blink in surprise for she grabbed a handful of his robes and dragged her along with him. “Quick!” she breathed. “Hide!”

Bewildered Harry allowed himself to be pulled along, stumbling and saying, “What?”

“Hurry!”

They flew down several flights of stairs, rounded corners, burst through doors, and ran down more stairs, round more corners and through more doors until, “Here Quick!”

And he was pulled under the stairs and pushed into a dark corner.

“Hermione wha-”

“Shhh!” she hushed, pressed herself against him and clung to his arms. The feeling of her small, soft figure against him nearly made him forget his confusion as his arm naturally went to wrap itself around her waist, pulling her closer.

Every now and then she dared to dart her head out and peek carefully into the light of the corridor. She strained her ears for any bit of sound and if any footsteps came along she'd let out a squeak, push back a baffled Harry further into the dusty darkness and bring a hand over her mouth. When this happened a third time Harry tried to straighten under her arm, and succeeded in banging his head on the roof of the staircase.

“Oh, Harry are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine,” he said rubbing the top of his head, but she didn't seem to hear him.

He braced a hand against the wall behind him and was forced to lower his head stoop lest he be wrecked with brain damage from a battered skull. Many boys wish for height at a young age.

“Hermione this is ridiculous. Who are we hiding from?”

“Colin.”

“What?”

“And Dennis.”

“Dennis?”

“And Michael.”

“Who?”

“And I think Susan is with them as well, but I'm not really sure.”

“You're running from a mob of eleven and thirteen year olds?”

“Oh, Harry stop it. This is not the least bit funny.”

“Actually I find this hilarious. Whatever happened to the calm, no nonsense, straight forward Hermione who faced her problems with flair?”

“Flair?”

Harry shrugged in response.

“Well, the simplest answer to that would be: I fell for you. Ever since then, my mind's been a mess and I haven't been acting like I should be.”

This must have been a good answer because one moment Hermione was looking out into the corridor and the next she felt a touch of a hand on her chin, turning her around, and her lips captured fiercely in a passionate kiss.

She must have been completely out of her mind, for in the next second she was mildly aware of herself responding to the heated kiss with vigour as she pushed Harry against the wall, allowing his hands to roam the length of her body.

Grasping his hair with frustrated fingers, she tore her mouth from his and pulled his head back. The green of his eyes was smouldering as they drifted for a moment to lock on the curly locks of the girl who was ravishing his neck. Breath heady and gasping, his eyes shut as he let her take control. Let her devour him. Wanting her to slip inside and bury deep. His lips parted, aching for her taste and he felt her hands slip underneath his robes. He growled and brought her head up to his, claiming her lips, and his senses exploded.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat and he flipped them around so it was now she who was pressed up against the musty wall, her neck arched as he seared her tender skin with his lips, causing her to writhe and pant and press herself against him, straining.

They frantically moved and shifted, gasping; both overwhelmed with a carnal need. So it would be hard to imagine either one of them managing pulling away from the other, but Harry somehow managed this feat. With a sudden heave and an intake of breath, he pulled himself away from her and took a step backwards. His arms stretched out and held her as if wanting to force space between them. Both were breathing heavily.

Hermione, he found after his vision managed to clear and the proper amount of blood rushed back to the proper head, looked thoroughly ravished with her hair bushier than usual and her robes dishevelled. Harry grinned.

“You're looking rather pleased with yourself, aren't you?” she said with a sniff and he let her go. She began to straighten herself out and Harry almost laughed. Hermione swatted him in the arm.

“Ow.”

“Serves you right, Harry. I wasn't planning for that to happen at all. What if we were caught?”

“Well, I'd think that would have made things more interesting,” Harry was only met with a sigh in response and followed Hermione out from under the stairs and into the bright corridors.

“Why were they chasing after you anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, it was just some nonsense. You don't want to hear it.”

“Hermione. You made me run a marathon around the school, pushed me down flights of stairs and snogged me in a dark corner. I think I deserve an explanation.”

Hermione's cheeks flushed and she said, “Oh, well if you must know,” she took a breath, “Michael has developed some sort of crush on me and Dennis, told him that it would be better if he told me about his feelings, but Michael would only do it if Dennis were there, and naturally Colin wanted to come along to capture the moment on film, and Susan- who is Michael's best friend, and the sweetest girl by the way- fancies Michael, but is too shy to admit it because Michael is already a very timid boy and she doesn't want to ruin the friendship she has with him, which sounds a lot like our predicament, but anyway she wanted to go with him just to make sure I don't make him feel foolish or anything of the like because she's fiercely protective, and you and I both know that I would do no such thing. Now if it had been just Michael who approached me then I would have gladly stayed and talked to him, but Dennis appeared and Colin thought I couldn't see him snapping photos behind the table in the common room and of course that drew more students so I made an excuse and I left, but Dennis called after me saying things like `he's a great bloke if you'd only get to know him' and dragged Michael by the arm, who dragged Susan, and Colin followed snapping madly. So instead of turning to give them a piece of my mind, I panicked and…well I found you,” she finished not at all breathless.

Harry blinked.

“Er…should I be jealous?”

“Oh don't be silly, Harry. Of course not. He's only eleven and I've made a horrible mistake not talking to him. I'll find him now. See you at dinner?”

“Erm, yeah. Sure.”

Still bewildered, he felt Hermione lean up and quickly brush his lips in a goodbye kiss. Then she was gone leaving him feeling puzzled, slightly used, and strangely giddy all at the same time. The girl was driving him mad.

Harry figured that the best thing to do would be to get a quick bite to eat from the kitchens so he headed in the general direction.

“Come on freckles, you know Blaise didn't mean it,” a voice Harry recognized as Malfoy's drifted from a dark corner to his right.

His ears perked up at the sound of a familiar girl's voice answering him. “Hmmph.”

“Want me to hex him?”

“I'll do it myself.”

She sounded awfully familiar and Harry inched closer to hear what they were saying.

Malfoy laughed.

“Don't bother, you won't even get near him.”

She made an affronted sound and Harry saw him gently grasp her arms. He tilted his head to get a better view of the girl, but Malfoy's gigantic back was in the way.

“No, hang on listen. What I meant to say was that being in Slytherin enables you to practice certain…spells that otherwise aren't really appreciated by many,” Malfoy continued.

“Are you saying that he'll use Avada Kedavra on me?” the girl said in disbelief.

“No. Believe it or not there are some things that're worse than death, and besides, I'll break his neck before he touches you.”

Harry gagged.

“If you're trying to gain points, Draco, it's not working,” the girl replied.

“Alright, how's this for an idea: I throw you over my shoulder and find us an empty broom closet?”

Harry made a face at the thought.

“You wouldn't dare.”

Apparently Malfoy did, and Harry heard a laughing shriek, and a “Put me down, you lummox!” He grimaced in disgust and was about to slip as far away from Malfoy and his mate as possible when a flare of red in the musty darkness caught his eye and it hit him. He knew who the voice belonged to, but his brain didn't want to admit it.

Harry's jaw dropped when he saw a grinning Malfoy troop out from the corner and into the light with his laughing prize over his shoulder. Needless to say all three were fairly surprised by the strange turn of events.

“Harry!”

“Ginny?!”

“Potter.”

Harry didn't even bother to acknowledge the blonde and once again shouted, “Ginny?!”

All three froze in place, then something in Ginny's brain clicked or maybe it was just the blood rushing to her head, but she started to squirm with as much dignity as she could muster and said, “Please put me down, Draco.”

“Draco?” Harry said incredulously. “You call him Draco now? And what's this, Malfoy? Get your filthy hands off her, what have you done?” His hand itched to take a hold of his wand.

“Nothing that she didn't want me to do, Potter.”

“Draco, don't. Harry-” Ginny started, but Harry took a step back.

“You're going to tell me that none of this is what it looks like. I'm dreaming and I should just go off to bed.”

Draco snorted, and Ginny glared at him. “I'll see you tonight,” she said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself and with a look at Harry, Draco deliberately leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. Harry blanched and had the sudden urge to claw his eyes out.

When Malfoy finally disappeared up the stairs Ginny spoke, “No, Harry. You're completely awake.”

“But, but you a-and Malfoy,” he said the name as if it was a disease and wrinkled his nose.

“Harry, I love you like you were one of my brothers, but please,” she sighed exasperatedly. “I don't need a brother right now. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'm happy with Draco.”

Harry still couldn't manage to get over the fact that she was calling the scum by his first name.

“God, how long…”

“It's been about three months.”

“Three months?!”

“Yes! Three wonderful, exciting months, Harry! And no, no one knows but Hermione and now you and you're not going to tell anyone. Especially Ron.”

Harry's eyes, narrowed. “I'm not going to lie to my best friend.”

“Hermione didn't lie to you. You and Ron just never asked, so she stayed silent and that's all you have to do. That's all you're going to do, Harry. Let me make my own decisions, and let me be the one to tell my own secrets.”

Harry was silent for a moment and he looked at her. He remembered when she was just a child, blushing every time he walked into a room. It hit him like a wave when he finally realized that Ginevra Weasley was not a child any longer.

“Okay. I won't tell him.” Ginny's shoulders sagged as she visibly relaxed, but Harry continued, “but you're gonna have to tell him, Gin. Don't let him find out the way I did. It'll kill him.”

She looked at her shoes and said in a quiet voice, “I know.”

Harry sighed and walked over to her. “Hey, sorry I yelled. It was just a shock, you know.”

“It must have been.”

He put a comforting arm around her and she leaned against him. “So all this time, you've been hiding him from us?”

“Yes.”

“Must have been hell.”

“Oh, Harry you have no idea.”

“Who else knows?”

“As of now? Just you and Hermione.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I don't know.”

“Better be soon.”

“I know.”

They grew quiet at the sound of echoing footsteps plodding down the stairs. Seamus and Dean spotted them, waved and went on their way. When they were alone once more Harry said, “Hey listen, are you sure about this? I mean, are you really really sure?”

Ginny smiled. “Yes, Harry. I'm very sure. He's…different around me. It's like he's a completely different person.”

Harry snorted.

“That's not very attractive you know.”

“Yeah, well neither is the amazing bounding ferret.”

Ginny sighed in response. “I don't expect any of you to be his best friend. I just wish you all could be civil though. It just makes things easier.”

They started walking. Where they were headed, neither knew, but Ginny still clung to Harry's arm.

“Do you love him?”

She bit her lip before she responded saying, “I don't know. I mean I know it's more than just a fancy, but I don't think it's enough to be love. God, I don't think I've ever even been in love. I wouldn't even know if I am.”

“Trust me, you'll know.”

“Hmm, you and Hermione.”

“Yes. Me and Hermione.”

“I think it's incredibly sweet, you know,” she said looking up at him with a smile.

“Yeah? Well, erm, thanks.”

The continued in their steady quiet stroll. Every now and then saying their hellos to the few familiar students that came their way.

Harry randomly glanced a portrait of a man with a gigantic nose, sporting a ruff that engulfed his neck. The man noticed Harry staring and at once, he became shy, opting to cover his nose with delicate hands. Harry thought he heard the portrait mutter despairingly, “I told him to shorten it, but did he listen to me? Nooo. It becomes you, he said. It' really quite attractive, he said. Well. A load of good it does to me now. Confound it all.”

Harry turned to look at Ginny. “If he ever hurts you, you tell me alright?” he suddenly spoke up, abruptly breaking the comfortable silence.

“What? Oh, Harry don't be-”

“I'm serious. If anything happens. Anything at all, tell me.”

“Yes, father,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“There's a good girl,” he said ruffling her hair.

She frowned and pushed his arm away with a laugh. They found themselves at the fat lady's portrait

“I'll tell him tomorrow,” Ginny said, finally letting go of Harry's arm.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It's got to be soon, or it will be a horrible birthday present.”

Would have been the most memorable present Ron'd ever have too. Harry thought.

“Okay. If you need me-”

“I'll be fine. Thanks, Harry,” Ginny leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, said the password and climbed through the portrait hole. After a beat, Harry followed her inside. He couldn't get the image of Ginny draped over Draco's shoulder out of his head and he held back a shudder.

Hermione was sitting at a table going over her notes.

“She's probably made a study table already,” he muttered with a fond smile.

Then Draco and Ginny's earlier conversation popped in his head. Zabini? He trotted over to Ginny and caught her on the stairs. “Hey, Gin?”

“Yeah?”

“Answer something for me?”

“This isn't about Draco, is it Harry? Because I've already told you that I'm-”

Harry shook his head and his eyes narrowed at the name. “No, it's about what Malfoy said. I heard him say something about Blaise Zabini doing something to you.”

Ginny frowned. “You were eavesdropping on our conversation?” Harry waved her away and looked down, trying hide his embarrassment.

“Yeah, I'm bloody scum, but listen Gin. What did Zabini do?”

“Oh that, he was being a prat about a book or something.”

Harry stopped himself from widening his eyes, and forced his posture into something of nonchalance. “A book? Why would be a prat over a book?”

“He thought I took it. It was completely ridiculous, as clearly the book I had in my hands was for Herbology and not Defence Against the Dark Arts. I told him to shove it and if he couldn't find his sodding book then he should go and explain it to Madam Pomfrey, not yell at me. That's when he made some idiotic comment, and I punched him in the nose,” she said flippantly.

Harry choked back a laugh. “You punched Zabini?”

“He was being an arse, and I would have gotten a good swing if Draco hadn't stepped in.”

“Bastard.”

“Harry!”

“Sorry.”

“Listen, I'm going to go take a shower then read some, and don't worry about Zabini. I can take care of myself.”

Harry nodded and watched Ginny head up the stairs. This definitely was one of those days.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked when Harry slumped into a chair across from her.

“Yeah. I'm just…you knew about Ginny and Malfoy?”

Hermione paused in her work and looked up at him with mild surprise. “So she told you?” she said looking fairly impressed.

Oh, she told me. “Actually, I found out for myself.”

When Hermione threw him a questioning look, he shook his head and told her to not worry about it. “Hey listen, I think Zabini lost the book.”

****

Orla was breathing easier now. Her temperature was still fairly high, and her arm didn't look all that good, but she was breathing much easier.

“It's time,” Wormtail said and Emma and Petra stood and followed him out the door.

The girls squinted as the bright light attacked their senses. Weber took Emma's arm, but she fiercely shook it off with a glare and raised her chin.

“Just leave her, Weber. She has nowhere to go anyway.”

Emma took Petra's hand and gave it a squeeze and they followed the Death Eaters down the bright corridor.

****

“That still leaves us with nothing, mate,” Ron said as the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole.

They had told him everything minus Ginny and Draco. Harry still couldn't manage to hold a straight face whenever he thought of the two of them together. What made it worse was having to look Ron in the eye and not say anything. He didn't know what he was going to do in the Great Hall. Sitting with both Ron and Ginny and not say anything was going to be difficult. Ugh. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

He felt Hermione slip her hand into his and give it a comforting squeeze. She was still talking to Ron as they walked down the corridor and trotted down the stairs. Inside his head Harry did several cartwheels, but on the outside he chose to settle for the good old goofy smile.

“There are other ways of getting information, Ron.”

“Oh and what do you plan to do, Hermione? Sneak into the Slytherin common room, kidnap Zabini and tie him to a tree?”

Hermione paused and looked as if she was contemplating Ron's comment.

Ron looked like he was going to laugh out loud.

“Hermione. I was joking.”

“Oh, honestly Ron, of course I know you were only joking. I'm thinking of something else.” And she grew silent once more.

“Care to explain?” Harry asked.

“Leave it, mate. She could take hours.”

Hermione only gave Ron a shrewd look.

They stepped into the crowded Great Hall and took their seats.

“We'll talk about this later then,” Harry muttered to the them. He reached across the table to grab a chicken leg.

“Hey, Gin.” Ron greeted, and Harry nearly knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice.

Hermione gave him a warning look and Ginny barely glanced at him. She gave Ron a smile, but it looked somewhat forced. “Hi, Ron.”

“So how are the costumes?”

“Ron! Not so loud,” Hermione said in a fierce whisper as she cast wary glances around them. No one seemed to be paying any attention or looking their way.

“Relax. Everyone's too busy anyway, and besides, Dumbledore isn't even here.”

And here was another surprise for Harry, and he paused in eating to glace up at the Professors' table. Sure enough a seat beside Professor McGonagall was empty. Many of the professors looked tense, especially flighty Professor Flitwick, who squeaked in surprise every time Professor Wellington turned to speak to him. Harry noted that McGonagall had her lips pressed into a thin line. Hagrid wasn't present either. Neither was Snape.

“Hermione! How are you?”

“Hello, Tyler. I'm fine, thanks. How is your essay?”

“Much better thanks to you. I'm actually managing to pull up my abysmal marks.”

“Oh, don't be silly. Your marks were never quite so bad. You just needed to fix up some mistakes, that's all.”

“Again, thanks to you.”

Ron eyed the newcomer with distaste in his eyes. He looked like the kind of boy who took showers regularly, kept a comb in his back pocket and a mirror in his satchel. He didn't like him.

Ron tried to catch Harry's eye, but Harry was too busy scanning the Head table to notice that an extremely well groomed and not to mention good looking young man had taken a seat beside his girlfriend and was casually leaning against the table as if he owned the world.

“So are we still on for tonight?”

It was this that managed to catch Harry's attention and he looked over at Hermione and was puzzled at the sight of the new boy. Tonight?

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and could see that Harry wasn't going to say anything, so without thinking he nearly shouted, “She can't.”

Three pairs of eyes glanced his way, and he hoped his ears weren't red.

“I can't?” Hermione said with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” the boy looked slightly disappointed and both Harry and Ron didn't fail to catch him eyeing idly Hermione for a moment.

Ron saw Harry's jaw clench. Yeah, Harry. It's called jealousy. And this boy here is gonna give you a giant spoonful.

“Yeah, she can't,” Harry said shifting closer to Hermione.

She noticed this and glanced at him. “Why?” she asked.

Why, indeed? For a brief moment both boys panicked. Harry looked at Ron for an answer.

“Because he's got a date planned.”

“A date?” Hermione and Tyler said. Harry nearly joined them, but he held himself back.

“Right Harry?”

“Er, yeah. It was supposed to be a surprise.” He didn't look Hermione in the eye and failed to see the knowing smile on her face.

“Oh, I didn't know-”

“Yeah, that's right. She's taken, mate.”

“My intentions were nothing short of being a gentleman.”

Ron snorted into his mashed potatoes. Hermione ignored him and gave Tyler a gentle smile.

“That's alright Tyler. I never expected anything else. Actually, if you're free now we can go to the library quickly.”

Harry and Ron's heads snapped up.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive. I've already finished anyway,” she stood up. “We can go right now if you like, that is,” she paused to look at her best friends. “If that's alright with you two.”

They spluttered in answer.

“Alright then,” she said brightly. “I'll see you tonight, Harry.” And they watched her leave with the unsettlingly clean boy named Tyler.

“Well that went well,” Ginny said.

Harry nearly jumped at her voice. He had forgotten she was still there. “Thanks,” he said dryly. His shoulders sagged. “Now what?”

“Well now you plan out the most romantic date you've ever thought of. Hi, beautiful.” The last was directed to Luna, for she had approached their table and took a seat next to Ron, greeting him with a kiss.

“Hello everyone.”

They all said their hellos and Ginny filled her in while Harry and Ron continued their conversation.

“How long to do I have?”

“Oh, about three and a half hours.”

“Wonderful.”

“I could cover for you if you need more time.”

“Ron, remember last night, when I told you that I wanted to take her on a real date? You know, not just at Hogsmead, or sneak around the school at night, or snog on the couch in the room of relaxation date, but a real date?”

“Yeah. Now you have the chance.”

“Well see, I actually wanted more time to put some thought into this.”

“What, three and a half hours isn't enough?”

“I hate you.”

“Really Harry, you should be thanking me. If I hadn't said anything she'd be off with Mr. I -can't- keep- it- in- my-pants. Did you see the way he looked at her?”

Harry's jaw clenched.

Bull's eye.

“Who?” Luna asked.

“Tyler,” Ginny said.

“He's not that tall, has got gigantic shoulders, unnaturally clean face and perfect hair,” said Ron.

“Tyler Higgins?”

Ron sniggered, “Higgins?”

“You know him?” Ginny asked.

“Sure. He is in Ravenclaw, is very handsome, and is the sweetest person you'll ever meet. Oh, do stop it, Ronald that's incredibly rude He can't help his last name.”

With much difficulty, Ron managed to shape his features into the epitome of solemnity.

“And I think he fancies Hermione,” Luna finished.

“He what?” Harry said.

“Fancies her. Likes her. Thinks she is adorable. She is all he talks about in the common room. I think he has fancied her for ages and has just never had the courage to step up and talk to her.”

Harry's face darkened, and Ron could just see him snapping his fork in two.

“That's sweet,” said Ginny.

“No, that's wrong, Gin. Oh, now you have to kick his arse, mate.”

Ginny sighed. “Harry is kicking no one's arse, Ron. He just has to plan the date. That's all.”

“But that smarmy bastard had his eyes all over-”

“Ronald. You`re not helping,” said Luna

Ron glanced at Harry, who had a dark look on his face.

“Right, sorry. Now listen, mate, you've got me, Luna and Ginny's a girl. She can help too.”

“Thanks for that spot on observation, Ron,” Ginny said dryly. “Now finish up the both of you. We've got a date to plan.”

Harry looked mournfully at his chicken. “She knows I've got nothing.”

“Yes, well, you'll just have to prove her wrong.”

They got up and headed to the room of requirement.

“Just think, mate. Be positive.” Ron threw a supporting arm over Harry's shoulders and said in a grandiose voice, “You're Harry, king of romance, Lord of melting hearts, swooning damsels, and Prince of the quivering thighs.”

Harry laughed and Ginny looked affronted. “Ugh, Ron, that's not positive that's disgusting.”

They stepped into the room and Luna shut the door behind them.

“What I need is a place,” said Harry form his position on the couch.

“And we all know that Hogwarts clearly doesn't have anything that's even remotely romantic.”

“What about in here?” Ron said, gesturing around the room. “It's private. It's cozy.”

“And I've used this room already. No, it's gotta be different.”

“What about one of the greenhouses? The plants give off an exotic feel and that can be romantic,” Luna offered.

“Yeah, if you're Neville,” scoffed Ron.

“And I don't think Sprout leaves the doors unlocked,” said Harry.

“Maybe you can ask Hagrid if you can borrow his cabin,” said Ginny, who walked over to the gramophone to play some music.

“I don't even know where Hagrid is. He wasn't in at dinner, and anyway, I don't want her to think I'm aiming for a shag. All I've got in the cabin is a bed.” Harry sighed, got to his feet and began to pace.

“How 'bout the lake? I've seen tons of blokes take their girls out onto the lake.”

“It's still too cold for that. We'll be shivering the whole time and she`ll just want to leave it all, head inside, and go to bed.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed again. The music started, a smooth jazzy tune.

“I just need some place quiet, where we can be alone and talk.”

“What about the Astronomy tower?” Luna spoke up as she idly flipped through a book.

“That's been done. So many times,” said Harry.

“But it's still one hell of a romantic spot,” said Ron.

Ginny smiled. “That's right. Sure tons of couples have been using for ages, but it's not the place, Harry. It's what you do for her there that counts.”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey, Gin, what's this song called?”

*****

Date stuff:

Gramophone, playing jazzy tune

Small candles leading up the stairs

Small candles scattering the tower

One crate

One white cloth for crate

One candle on crate

Two bottles of butterbeer

One telescope

“Is that it?” Harry asked, looking up from the parchment.

“That's a lot of candles,” said Ron who was reading over his shoulder.

Harry couldn't believe that they were making him write a list. Correction: Ginny was making him write a list. Luna was adding anything she thought would be helpful and Ron sat on the couch being supportive.

“Yes, you don't want to be too extravagant. Keep it delicate and simple,” Ginny said.

“You sure Filch won't notice the candles?”

“Filch never checks up there. He'd only know to look if someone told him to so don't worry, you're safe.”

Harry scratched his head. “God, where am I going to get all those candles?”

“Luna and I will take care of everything Harry. Do you know what you're wearing?”

Harry's eyes darted in confusion. “Erm, clothes.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “How about being a little more specific, Harry.”

“I don't know… er, jeans and a jumper?”

“What colour?”

Harry shrugged.

Was this kind of stuff important?

“I don't…know,” he said bewildered. “Green?”

Ginny nodded and looked him over while Ron, clearly amused by Harry's discomfort, looked on silently.

“Better let me look through what you have, Harry. The outfit is always important.”

Harry's eyes darted to Ron who was shaking his head and mouthing the word, “No.”

Ginny turned to follow Harry's gaze and Ron suddenly became immersed with the ceiling. She turned back to Harry and folded her hands over her chest. “Well, Harry?”

Well they were only clothes. What was the harm in having her choose them? It was easy enough and shouldn't take too long.

“Sure, I guess.”

*****

Three sweaters, two button down shirts and a pair of black slacks later, Harry found himself in the boys' dorms wearing clothes that didn't belong to him.

Luna had gotten the blazer from Terri Boot (“I don't think Terri would mind if we made some little size adjustments”); They got the shirt from Dean (“Wash it when you're done, yeah?”); And the jeans were taken from a very confused Seamus (“Hang on, lemme see if I'm hearin' you right. You want me… to give Harry…my pants?”)

Harry looked at himself in the full length mirror Ginny had conjured up and he had to admit, he looked damn good.

“The green button down shirt brings out your stunning eyes, the black blazer perfectly accentuates your lean frame and broad shoulders, and your bottom looks fantastic in those jeans,” Ginny said looking very pleased with herself.

Luna nodded in agreement.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets feeling suddenly extremely shy. He didn't know if he should feel awkward over the fact that he was wearing Seamus' pants or that Ginny just complimented his back side.

“Well when my sister and my girlfriend finish checking out my best friend's arse, I think one of us should get Hermione and send prince charming to his tower,” Ron said form his perch on his bed.

Harry flushed and coughed. “Luna, you sure it's not gonna break or anything?” he said, referring to the now mini gramophone tucked in his jacket pocket.”

“It won't. Just place it where you want it, say the spell, and it will be back to normal again. Goodnight, Harry.”

With Ginny and Luna out of the room and the mirror now gone, he sank onto his bed with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Right. Well, it's time.”

“Relax, mate. It's just a date. Nothing to be worried about right?”

“I know. Just can't help it.”

“Well it is the first serious date you have with her.”

“Yeah.”

Harry stared at his shoes as he tried to still his racing heart. He didn't notice Ron looking at him with something resembling pity and amusement on his face.

“Here,” he said as he stuffed a hand in his pockets. “I got something for you.”

Harry looked up. “Ron, it's a date not marriage.”

“Sod off. I was gonna give you this after the graduation ceremony, but well anyway here.” He tossed it to him and Harry deftly caught it.

Curious, he opened his hand and looked the object resting on his palm. A small silver disc like object winked back at him. There was a little hole at the top. Harry turned it over as he inspected it. The disc was rather plain, really and it shone in the moonlight.

“What's this?”

Ron shrugged. “Got it from Fred and George's shop. They found a few things, while visiting Charlie last summer. The last time I saw them at the shop they said I could grab whatever I wanted free of charge.”

“Weird.”

“I know.”

“Did they tell you what it is?”

“Dunno the name for it actually. Thought I saw Ned eyeing me as I picked it up, strange guy, Ned. Anyway, Fred said that has some sort of empathic power or something of the like. I got one for Hermione and me as well. Said it connected the wearers to each other, so that we're er, sort of aware each other's presence or something. We know if one of us is in trouble. Thought it'd be useful. You know, what with people trying to kill you and all, and besides it's good to know that the other is doing ok. I can`t always be there to save your arse.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Oh, er, the hole there is for a cord so you can put it around your neck. Here, hang on, I think I have one.” Ron got up and began to rummage in his trunk, and Harry continued to look at the disc.

“So, how does it let us know if one of us needs saving?”

“Oh, er, Fred said that we'd just know. Ah here it is.” He took the disc from Harry's hands, pulled the cord through and held it back out to him. “Go on then, put it on.”

Harry smirked then batted his eye lashes, “Why Ron, really you shouldn't have.”

“Sod off. It's not jewellery, it's protection.”

Harry tied it around his neck and stuffed it under his shirt. The cord was long enough to have the disc pressed against his chest.

Ron snapped his fingers, “Oh, just remembered, Fred said that strong feelings towards you like hate or love make the disc grow cold. So let's say you're standing around…er, Lucius Malfoy or something. You feel the disc become icy against your skin and all that so you know that he's dangerous, plotting something and whatever, or he…wants a shag.”

“Thanks. Great thought there,” said Harry with a grimace.

“Well you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, right. I got it. Disc gets cold, then that`ll be the person to watch out for.” Harry stood. “Listen Ron-”

Ron interrupted him and held up a hand. “Don't worry about it, Harry. Don't owe me a thing.”

Harry wanted to say more, but he stopped himself knowing that silence was all Ron needed. Silence was what he wanted, because he already knew how grateful Harry was. So Harry just nodded and clapped him on the back.

“Thanks Ron,” he said.

Ron grinned. “Don't mention it.”

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