Unofficial Portkey Archive

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Magic Never Dies

Chapter 17

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Harry slept fitfully despite his exhaustion. His encounter with Voldemort left him feeling like the subject for a Death Eater training session on casting the Cruciatus; his nervous system thoroughly assaulted and in no hurry to uncoil and act properly again. Hermione's comforting presence lulled him into periods of relative ease only to be broken by a sound he couldn't place or one he regretfully could; Ron's rattling snores.

He awoke at some point to a sense of something out of place and lay still, listening intently to the darkness. He lifted his head to peer at Snape's bed over Hermione, nestled against his side, and saw the sheets turned back, the mattress empty.

Cursing inwardly he sorted his limbs from hers and slid quietly from the bed. He did not have his wand; he hoped that Hermione had thought to bring it from Grimmauld Place but did not want to wake her now. He sensed somehow that he didn't need it quite so much anymore, but it gave him confidence and focused him all the same. He borrowed hers from the nightstand and crept through the darkness, feeling for Snape's trail.

He found it far more easily than he'd counted on. A grim black form stumbled directly into the extended point of the wand and cursed colorfully… and effectively. Something wordless caught Harry and inverted him midair, twisting and flailing.

Ironically enough, he'd chosen the same spell.

"Lumos!"

Harry and Snape surveyed each other, both hanging bat-like a good distance from the floor.

"Where were you?" Harry asked accusingly.

"If you must know, I was using the loo. " Snape snarled, working diligently to keep his robes from billowing down over his head.

Harry had never appreciated his jeans quite so much.

"Exactly what, by the way, did you do with my old potions text - other than use it to learn levicorpus and falsely impress Horace Slughorn?" Snape asked, finally casting a stiffening charm on his robes. They sprung at once up to his ankles.

Of course, thought Harry grumpily, He probably sleeps like this all the time, the great sucking vampire bat.

"It's in the Room of Requirement. I honestly didn't know it was yours until you said. I should have, though. You always told me I thought rules were for other people. You weren't exactly by the book yourself, you know. You practically rewrote the whole bloody thing as a matter of fact," Harry said. "Are you going to let me down now?"

"You first, Mr. Potter. When I am safely on my feet, you shall be as well. Drop me, and down on your head you go."

Harry sighed and cast Wingardium Leviosa first, then ended the Levicorpus spell, gently righting Snape and floating him down on his feet.

Snape simply ended his spell and allowed Harry to drop. Only by some last minute cat-like twisting did he manage to land on his bum instead of his head. He glared daggers up from the floor.

"Slytherins seldom keep their word. It is a matter of honor. Always remember that. Voldemort was a Slytherin, you know," Snape told him, and made his way with great dignity back to his bed.

Harry crawled to his feet, feeling oh-so-in-touch with his Slytherin side.

Damn it. Now he needed the loo as well.

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Madam Pomfrey was not happy with Harry's self-proclamation of fitness in the morning, but as he was no longer a student there was little she could do hold him. She made him sit still long enough to peel the gauze patch over his eye and fussed when she saw the result, making him follow the lit beam of her wand around the room while she gazed within it. Hermione thought it seemed to move slightly more sluggishly than the other one but it appeared otherwise uninjured. Perhaps he'd finally been lucky after all.

Professor McGonagall decided that Professor Snape was to have his breakfast in the Head's office with her; and that the rest were welcome to partake in the Great Hall. Harry got the sense she wasn't anxious for anyone else to know that Snape was there.

"Eat something and then go and retrieve the potion and bring it to my office," she instructed. "We can Floo Lupin and decide our next step there."

It was a Sunday and still early; attendance at the house tables was spotty at best. They made their way to familiar places at a Gryffindor table noticeably devoid of sixth and seventh years and deduced that it must have been a Hogsmeade weekend. Ah, memories… They began the comfortable and familiar ritual of pouring pumpkin juice for each other and choosing their meal.

Harry reckoned Ron was in heaven.

Hermione curled her fingers around her tea and snuggled sleepily closer against Harry's side on the bench. He was stunned rigid for a moment and then realized… it was okay. Well, it was Hermione, actually, so it was better than okay. He loved the feeling of her there, warm and small and for the moment at least, safe and happy. Professor McGonagall might not exactly approve of such conduct in the Great Hall, but hey… there was hardly anyone there, it wasn't like the sorting feast or anything. And they weren't students, anymore. Harry drew her closer still and very gently and as chastely as he could manage, kissed her. Ron had become so accustomed to them by this point that he never even missed a mouthful.

"Mmm," Hermione said softly, grinning. "Bacon. So that's what I wanted."

"Eww…gross!" piped up a third year boy halfway down the near-empty table. "I'm telling."

The girl across from him clearly kicked him under the table, for he dove down in the direction of his shins with a howl. "Never mind Quentin," she said with a blush. "He's an idiot."

Harry smiled at her and the blush deepened to quite frightening proportions; he was afraid she might actually injure herself and ducked back to his breakfast, ignoring Hermione's amusement.

"I think you have an admirer," she said.

"I think you do," he told her. "That `gross' was code word for `you're something else again, get rid of the loser and I'll show you what gross can really look like' in thirteen year old boy."

"You never told me I was gross," Hermione laughed. "Should I be offended?"

"I was never your average thirteen year old boy…" he started, then stopped, feeling the truth of it.

"I knew you were here somewhere!" came a happy voice across his darker thoughts, and Luna Lovegood appeared before them. Her earrings had changed to some rather intriguing substance that looked a bit like iridescent icicles, but the butterbeer cap necklace was still there, sporting more additions.

"Hey, Luna," he said cautiously. "How are you?"

"Hi Luna," Hermione said brightly, and a little on the loud side for her, Harry thought.

Ron's still groggy head snapped up from his plate and his sausage consumption visibly slowed.

So he does fancy her, Harry thought, remembering their conversation on the way to Hagrid's hut. It seemed years ago somehow. More than just fancy her - look, he's stopped eating. This is serious.

"Hey, Luna," Ron said, carefully swallowing first. Might even be love… Harry thought. He actually swallowed. "How's it going?"

Luna sat down on the bench across from Ron and rested her prodigiously bulging book bag beside her with a relieved sigh.

"It's been quite a busy year for me actually," she began. "I know sixth is supposed to be the lull between OWLs and NEWTs but with all that's happened just lately the Quibbler is flying off the presses and I've been doing a good bit of reporting for my father."

"Have the Crumpled Horned Snorckacks chosen sides yet?" Hermione wondered.

"They have a long history of remaining independent," Luna told her earnestly. "One of the reasons they're so notoriously hard to spot." She turned back to Ron. "You've been quite busy yourselves. The latest issue of the Quibbler has the truth about you three defeating that cell of Death Eaters in Godric's Hollow."

"Fascinating," said Harry, "Only, that just happened and nobody but us and the Death Eaters were there. So how'd you manage that?"

"Oh, I saw it all," Luna said airily. "My father had it on the presses before Peter Pettigrew's ashes had cooled."

Harry saw Ron's eyes bulge.

"You were there?" Ron asked.

"On another plane, certainly. And Ron, I thought you were very, very brave. And a brilliant fighter up until Pettigrew blindsided you."

Harry noticed that Luna was every bit as… different as in years past, but not nearly as vague. It was as if something had finally focused her somehow. And the bit about Godric's Hollow was uncanny. If she'd been teaching divination, he might have paid attention. Or at least tried to.

"A plane? You mean one of those Muggle flying things? I never saw one while we were there."

"Not an airplane, Ron. Luna means a plane of perception, I think," Hermione told him. Harry noticed she too appeared intrigued.

"Either way she's been a bit of an airhead lately, haven't you, Luna?" came a voice Harry recognized only too well; Ginny had arrived to greet the day. He noticed Dean was not with her. Time to go then!

"Managed to walk right off the end of one of the staircases, didn't you?" Ginny continued, smiling at Luna as if she were a precocious five year old. "Something about you and your old rat Scabbers, Ron. She shouted `Look out!' and fell right off the end. Kind of funny, really, once we saw she was okay."

"Are you really alright?" Ron asked, and Harry could hear the concern in his voice. So it seemed, could Ginny. She glared at Hermione and sat down beside Luna, opposite Harry.

"Oh, I'm fine," Luna said. "It just got rather exciting at that point and I forgot to stop. It was only the second floor and I did an Arresto Momentum on the way down."

Harry, personally familiar with the fact that the spell slowed but did not entirely check one's fall, winced.

"So have you two made up yet?" Ginny asked Hermione, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

Hermione looked as her quizzically. "Er, we haven't argued. Yet, at least. Quite a refreshing change actually."

Ginny looked up, her expression visibly brighter. "I knew it! I knew it wouldn't last. It was just an infatuation from all living together, wasn't it. Your little threesome joke was the talk of the school, by the way."

"Ginny, I don't mean to be dim, but I have no idea what you're saying. Except about the joke, of course, and it WAS a joke."

"You and Harry, your little flinglet with Harry back in September. I thought for sure that the twins would start a pool on when you and Ron would get back together, but I guess the personal defense line has them pretty busy."

"The twins didn't start a pool," Hermione said, her voice even but cold as ice, "because even they knew there was nothing to bet on. "

"Nothing's changed, Ginny," Harry told her tiredly. "Hermione and I are still together. I love her. I'll be with her as long as she'll have me."

Ginny looked from one to the other incredulously. "You can't be serious. For six years everyone knew it was always going to be you and Ron, Hermione. Everyone. You and Harry were never anything but friends. You never flirted, you never snogged, never really fought; you never even got jealous of each other. What happened?"

Hermione looked at Harry, still hearing, `I love her. I'll be with her as long as she'll have me.'

"The problem," she said quietly, reaching for his hand, "was that when you come right down to it, Ginny, flirting and fighting and jealousy just aren't what love is really all about."

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They left the Great Hall as soon as they could after that; just as well because the upper classes had started trickling in and much as they would enjoy seeing more of their classmates this was proving not to be the time. Luna tagged along and Harry couldn't find it within him to stop her; she seemed so happy chattering away to a bemused but grinning Ron and she'd probably just see it all later anyway. Or maybe she already had.

They watched as he paced back and forth three times in front of the blank wall on the seventh floor, trying to mimic the urgency he'd felt when he needed to hide the Half Blood Prince's text. His relief when the door appeared left him a little shaky; he'd wasted so much time sixth year while Malfoy'd been repairing the vanishing cabinet. If only he could do it all over…

Ron opened the door and they proceeded single file into the cavernous space.

"Wow," said Hermione. "Just look at all of those books! Harry, there could well be something about Horcruxes in here!" She moved toward an enormous mountain of stacked books, most likely banned, outdated or rendered useless through spills or missing pages. "Modern Methods in Transfiguration published in 1893. Hardly modern now, but Bertram was a genius according to Professor McGonagall. Oh, and a 1780 first edition of Glover Hipworth's Preparing the Pepperup Potion. That would be worth quite a bit, really. What's this now…" she mused, picking up a tattered black book.

The books had never really penetrated Harry's consciousness before. He'd known about this place all along, and it had simply never occurred to him to mention the books to her. Idiot.

"Do you want to look while we find the bottle?" he asked.

"I think we should all stay together," said Luna, suddenly dreamy once more.

"She's right actually." Ron said. "Far safer."

"Oh alright, I suppose we should find it first. Now that I know these are here I can always come back and do a bit of searching." Hermione agreed. Harry thought it highly suspect of Hermione to agree with Luna over anything, but let it go. He was happier by far to have her by his side anyway.

He led the way, cautiously following the path of Snape's memory. Many objects had been deposited during the remaining years and they had to do a good bit of poking around to find landmarks Harry recognized. It was perhaps twenty filthy, dusty minutes before Harry spotted the stacked and abandoned cauldrons, and the array of bottles before them. They appeared identical, rimed with dust and apparently untouched for quite some time at least. Harry quickly counted and it appeared they were all there.

"It's still here. I didn't honestly think it would be, the slimy git," Harry said, and extended his hand for it. He could feel Hermione pressed anxiously against his side but was unprepared for Ron's whimper of terror and his hand attempting to knock Harry's aside with the warning "Spider!." His fingers had already closed around the neck, and so it was with resignation rather than surprise that Harry felt a familiar tugging sensation in his midsection.

"Oh, shite," were the last words to be heard in the Room of Requirement, but there was nobody left to hear them.

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They landed in a snow bank. In the middle of a snow storm, thick and white and utterly silent. All four of them; Harry reckoned they must all have been touching at just the right moment. The others' shock at the potion bottle being a portkey was complete.

"What the fuck…" said Ron.

"Oh look!" Luna squealed happily. "Snow!"

Hermione could feel Harry shaking next to her; a combination, she was sure of the sudden cold and his memories of the last time a portkey had taken him unawares.

The Tri Wizard Cup

She transfigured his old Gryffindor school robe into its heavy black wool winter counterpart. She realized as she moved to raise the red-lined hood over his head that he had somehow grown as well; she had to go up on her toes and stretch higher than she was sure she had before. When had that happened? It could only have been in the last day or two.

"Thanks," he said, snapping out of whatever thoughts had possessed him and returning the favor for her. Her hood, as he raised it over her head, was fur-lined, white and soft. She looked at him in wonder and he smiled, now seemingly unafraid. "What's that?" he asked curiously. She looked down in her hand and saw the old book she'd been holding in the Room of Requirement. "I never got to look," she said, and tapped it with her wand, shrinking it to fit in her robe pocket.

"What do you suppose this is all about?" Harry wondered, pocketing the potion as well.

"No idea. We need to get moving and find out where we are before anyone finds us first though," she told him.

"Look, Ron; Harry and Hermione have transfigured their robes. What a good idea," Luna said, and waved her wand over her own. They watched, transfixed, as they became a heavy woolen cloak in a patchwork of Hogwarts colors, blue and red and green and yellow.

"Erm, Luna, we may need to hide. Perhaps something a bit less…noticeable?" Hermione said.

"Oh! Oh, smart thinking, Hermione. That's why you're so good at this," she agreed, unoffended, and quickly reversed them so that the outside was black and the colors inside.

Ron's became thick and woolly but two sizes too small in the process. "You know how wool shrinks," he said defensively, and enlarged them. "Now where?"

"Good question. The problem is who made the potion bottle a portkey - Snape, or Voldemort?" Harry mused.

"Probably Snape, that wanker," Ron said angrily. "That's why he sent us to get the bottle instead of going himself."

"To be fair, although it's really more than he deserves," Harry reminded him, "we went because we didn't trust him not to try and destroy or make off with it. It could have been Voldemort setting him up all those years ago."

"Setting him up? How?"

"Think about it. If he went back for the potion, to use it himself or share with anyone else…"

"So Voldemort would have it set to send him…" Ron seemed to be developing a faintly greenish tinge.

"At least he obviously wasn't thinking instant death," Harry noted.

"Or else the Oksumian Zabire got hungry and moved on." Luna added helpfully. "They love snowy climates. Do you think this is Siberia?"

"Please not," Hermione said feelingly. "So, which way do we go?"

"Whichever way whatever was supposed to be waiting for us, didn't." Ron surveyed their surroundings.

All Hermione could see, no matter which direction she looked, was snow.

She noticed Harry's eyes were closed and he seemed to be… listening? He was intent, rapt. She'd swear she saw him sniff the air, assessing something. His eye opened and he caught her gaze and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't rightly know why," he said, "but I think we should go this way."

"Good enough for me, mate," Ron said, starting off.

Luna fell into step beside him, and Harry and Hermione made their way behind them. The snow proved quite deep but before they had gone too far they came across a path, beaten down to smoothness. It was not wide and they reverted to single file with Ron in the lead and Harry bringing up the rear, the two girls sandwiched safely between.

They trudged on with only the hiss of the falling snow for company. Hermione heard what she thought was an owl overhead, but if it was it was too obscured by the swirling flakes to be sure. There was no other sign of life, no sign of who or what had made the trail.

We could be anywhere, she thought. Where would Voldemort send someone to get rid of them… unless he didn't really WANT to get rid of them? What if he thought he could use them another way?

Hermione knew Voldemort was no stranger to casual killing; Harry's chilling recounting of `kill the spare' was all the evidence required for that. But Snape? Snape was too smart, too useful for either faction to simply cast so easily aside. Voldemort might kill him, but he would make sure to gain something for his loss. The question was what?

A piercing cry echoed through the white blindness and they all froze.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron whispered.

"I know that sound," Harry said slowly. "Hagrid used to it to call them. That's a…"

"Thestral," Luna finished for him. "A hungry one."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked. "Do you see it, Harry?"

But Harry wasn't the first to see it. Ron was.

"Bloody Hell! Luna, look out! Harry and Hermione, run! There's a… a…what the hell is that?"

An enormous black horse-like creature raised its head from the edge of the wood to the left of the path, some six or seven meters off. Its head was sleek and cruel and dragonish, its eyes dead white and pupil-less. Enormous leathery bat-like wings were furled against its skeletal sides but as it noticed them it unfurled them slightly, much in the way Buckbeak might to make himself look bigger and fiercer.

"That would be the thestral, Ron. I bet if we just leave it to its meal it'll ignore us too." Harry told him.

"Harry, why am I seeing a thestral? I'm not supposed to see thestrals. You and Luna see thestrals. Me and Hermione just sit on them and see air."

"Erm, that would because of Pettigrew buying it the other day, Ron. Sorry."

"I rode one of those things? I never would have ridden one of those things if I could have seen it. Hermione? Can you see it? Did you know they looked like that?"

"Honestly, Ron, If you'd ever read your Care of Magical Creatures text, or the Bestiary, or even listened to Hagrid's lecture you'd have known. Harry's right, though. It should be more interested in its nice dead meal than live moving us, so let's move on."

"Well, that one might be," said Luna. "But this one seems to find us fascinating."

The others spun around to find another thestral behind them, slightly smaller than the first and a darker, glossier black. This one was quite close. Uncomfortably so.

Ron stepped in front of Luna and raised his wand.

"Ron, don't," Harry warned him. "They're not our enemies. Let's not piss them off before we know the lay of the land. They might possibly be willing to help."

"Harry, Hogwarts thestrals are domesticated. Hagrid's bred them and trained them. If these are wild we don't stand a chance…" Hermione warned.

The thestral took a hesitant step toward Harry, one white eye clearly on Ron's wand.

"Put it away Ron. Or at least out of sight."

"You're crazy, Harry. Listen to that."

The sound of the other thestral near the edge of the wood crunching the bones of whatever it was eating was clear even through the muffling of the falling snow.

Harry winced, but stood his ground. The thestral took another step closer, its nostrils flaring. It made a sort of snuffling noise, like a sneeze.

"They can small fear, Ron," Harry said softly.

"They can small blood too, remember," Hermione reminded him, moving closer. "Madam Pomfrey pumped you full of blood replenishing potions last night, Harry. You probably smell extra delicious."

Another step. Another. Ron backed up, drawing Luna behind him. Hermione noted wryly that she complied quite happily.

Harry extended his hand, palm up, fingers splayed to prove it defenseless and empty.

The thestral took two steps and stopped, extending its reptilian head. An enormous, rough tongue swept the length of Harry's palm. It took another step closer and raised its head to cock an empty white eye at him. Hermione watched him reach out and stroke the flat stretch above its nose. The thestral seemed to enjoy the attention, but she noticed with a start neither of them were blinking.

No way.

The connection held, and held. And then Harry blinked at last and patted the thestrals' nose, stepping back. "This one's name is Xavier. He won't hurt us. Voldemort has been here before us, and left bad feelings. He says the people won't welcome us, we need to find what we seek without approaching them or being seen or they won't hesitate to kill us."

Ron looked at him incredulously. "That…thing, just told you that? Harry, I haven't liked to ask, but this is getting just too weird. What's going on with you anyway?"

Hermione saw green eyes sweep across the endless white and back to troubled blue. Please let them not fight, please let them not get into anything…

"He says there's a cave we can shelter in at the foot of some hills ahead of us. He'll lead us there. Let's get out of the snow and dry, Ron, and I'll tell you anything I can. The short answer is I don't really know what's going on. But I'd die before I let myself hurt any of you, so if that's what you're worried about, don't."

"That's not it, Harry. I trust you, mate. Honestly."

"We all do, Harry," Luna said with a wide smile. "Some people might think talking with thestrals is a bit dark, but we know they're lovely creatures, really."

The young thestral pawed the ground and thrust his nose at Harry.

"He thinks we should get going," Hermione said. "Even I can tell that. Let's talk when we get to this cave. We can plan what to do next."

Harry set off, and the thestral pushed ahead of him. Hermione fell into step behind him, with Luna behind her and Ron this time bringing up the rear. It turned out thestrals made excellent guides in the snow; no matter how the wind howled or the snow blew, Xavier's black form remained visible. It didn't take long for all of them to cast warming spells on themselves and transfigure their shoes into boots. Luna produced her school scarf from her book bag and Hermione transfigured it into four sets of woolen gloves. Luna shrunk her book bag, tucked it into the pocket of her cloak and trudged happily on, her pale blue eyes paler still and more ethereal against the white all around them.

It was good to be witches and wizards sometimes.

Hermione noticed that there was something about the snow that seemed to set Harry off as well. She had always thought he looked his best in Gryffindor robes, the black and dark red hood framing his fair skin and dark hair. But now, as he turned back to make sure she was getting along all right behind him she was struck anew by his familiar features, mesmerized by the way the snow seemed almost to linger in his eyelashes despite his glasses and caress his face as it fell. She could feel a desire to touch him strong enough to literally flutter her fingertips as she watched. He clearly noticed her observing him and smiled that uniquely Harry bittersweet smile that was, as usual, followed by his eyes dragging themselves dutifully away.

Whoa. Where did all that come from?

They trudged on in the whispering silence of the falling snow, the only other sound the occasional sneeze-snort from Xavier, usually announcing an obstacle or change in direction. The whiteness in front of them took on a more solid opacity; Hermione surmised they must be drawing close to the foothills they sought.

And then a shadow suddenly passed overhead, followed by a cloud of flame raining from the sky. It was everywhere; there was no telling which way to run. She heard Harry's voice and dimly made out his instructions to drop into the snow beside the trail and roll. She threw herself into the deeper snow, slushy and cooling, and burrowed in. Moments later she felt strong arms lifting her and pulling her still further off the trail toward a stand of snow-covered pines. She scrambled, half running, half dragged, until he paused long enough to scoop up her legs in his other arm and carry her the remaining distance. They broke through the edge of the trees and stumbled in, collapsing into a dense bed of pine needles and gasping for breath against the singed feeling of their lungs. A moment or two later Ron and Luna were thrust forcibly upon them by a shove from Xavier's wicked head. Both were smoldering as well but thankfully unhurt except for a small burn on the back of one of Luna's hands.

"That was a dragon," Ron said, and Hermione was struck by how grim and yet relatively calm he seemed.

Harry nodded, still panting. "That's why Xavier wants us to get to a cave," he managed.

"You might have said," Ron accused. "A couple of good blasts to dry it out and we'll be roasted here. But we're so bloody slow in the snow, we're sitting ducks."

The thestral moved restlessly in front of them, furling and half-unfurling its leathery wings.

"I think Xavier would take you." Harry said. His voice sounded awful to Hermione; she wondered how much of the super-heated air he'd inhaled yelling to them.

"He could only carry one, or at most two of us at a time. That would mean two trips and we have no idea where we're going. I don't think we should separate." Ron said decisively.

Luna beamed at Harry for some reason.

"No," Harry agreed, but Hermione was struck now by what sounded like abject misery in his voice. "We don't have to, though. Hermione can go with me."

He shut his eyes and with a low moan that ended as the same piercing cry they had heard earlier that afternoon, made a shuddery slow motion transfiguration into what was evidently his animagus form. A dully gleaming black thestral with a jagged white lightening bolt scar.

"Bloody bleeding hell," Ron said softly. "Merlin's freaking beard."

"He's beautiful!" Luna declared, and moved forward to stroke his neck. "Look, how funny. Even his mane won't lay right."

One rolling white eye connected with Hermione's and if it was possible for an enormous winged dragonish horse that can only be observed by those that have looked death in the eye to appear sheepish and apologetic, this one did. She stood up and moved forward, took its bony black face in her hands and kissed the jagged white scar.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

The Harry-thestral slid its front legs out in a kind of lowering bow, and she grabbed hold of his thick, silky mane and pulled herself astride onto his back. She leaned forward and stroked the softly gleaming neck, whispered in his pointed, flickering ears, "please tell me you know how to work those wings."

He sneeze-snorted and rolled one white eye.

Great. Alright then. Dear Lord she didn't want to die this way…she hated flying.

`Shh. I love to fly. I know the air, I'd never hurt you,' filled her mind.

Ron helped Luna onto the anxious Xavier, and clambered up behind her. Xavier led the way, crashing through the pine branches and galloping out into the deep snow. Thestral Harry followed and Hermione felt the raw power of his muscles working between her legs as he thrashed through the snow toward the clearing of the trail. Once they reached it she felt a mighty bunching of muscle beneath her and his wings unfurled and beat as he launched them into the air.

Hermione knew Professor McGonagall would be horrified by the very thought of what they were doing. Harry should never have been able to transform that way, he probably shouldn't be able to fly first time out and she knew that most animagi took a good bit of time to learn to hold on to their new form. This was just another one of the contradictions that were second nature to Harry now. She remembered him sitting on her bed, mad and miserable after his confrontation with Dumbledore and saying he was rubbish with swords. She laughed aloud, feeling the rhythmic bunch and thrust of his wing muscles under her knees as they soared, then started guiltily and searched the sky for any sign of a return from the dragon.

Except now they were dragons. Plural. And closing fast.

A scream died in her throat as she saw Ron pull out his wand. She saw him cast, saw the bright burst of light fly from his wand. The snow above the first dragon seemed to thicken and melt all at once, collapsing as heavy slush onto its wings.

Brilliant, Ron! She sent a freezing spell after it. It took two tries as Harry dodged tongues of flames sent their way, but the second one connected, solidifying the weighty coating on the dragon's wings and causing it to shudder in its flight and plummet, struggling desperately to free them.

Luna had caught on and froze the next one after Ron hit it with the slushing spell. The two thestrals were straining, legs and wings beating to reach the cover and unburnable stone of the cave. Hermione could see what she thought they were aiming for now, a dark shadow in the sheer wet face of the rock.

Two dragons were down now, one still dogged them. Ron hit the first and it faltered, but Luna's freezing spell missed and it roared in fury, belching flames at Xavier. Hermione threw herself forward and cast a freezing spell hanging under Harry's extended thestral neck. She felt him squirm mid wing-beat to stay under her and keep her on his back. The freezing spell hit a quickly cast Aguamenti from Ron and the resulting ice shattered under the onslaught but still deflected the bulk of the fire. Hermione saw Luna beating out a tongue of flame on Ron's robe as Xavier tucked his legs and flew at a distressingly small opening in the rock face, and they disappeared.

Harry was forced to circle, put off course by the move to keep her seated, and the last dragon roared and dove at them. Hermione could see the cave opening, feel thestral-Harry stretching for it as the dragon closed in. She could not help herself; she closed her eyes and threw her arms around his sweating neck, buried her face in his mane, and waited for the hail of fire. With a determined thrust of his wings Harry reached the cave just as the dragon let lose. He brushed the opening on one side entering, catching his wing and her leg on the rough stone and crashing to the knees of his forelegs on landing. Ron had slid off of Xavier and was already behind him, casting a shield on the cave opening. Turning back Hermione saw the dragon's open, flaming snout collide with Ron's shield with reverberating force, enough to knock Ron from his feet, and then it slid slowly from view.

Nothing could be heard within the cave except for the sound of heavy, labored breathing.

Hermione felt an indescribable sensation of motion and change and found herself suddenly straddling a prone Harry on the rocky floor of the cave. She hastily rolled free, cursing herself for not remembering how desperately he must have needed to change back. Her knee stung, and she could see a rip in the shoulder of his cloak and what looked to be blood stiffening the edges. Ron was climbing shakily to his feet, apparently in one piece and Luna seemed uninjured other than her burned hand. One of Xavier's wing tips was smoking, but he was happily oblivious, chomping on what appeared to be a torn-off dragon wing. Hermione was happy she'd missed how that had occurred. It had close call for Ron and Luna written all over it.

Harry pushed himself up on his forearms and looked around wearily.

"Okay," he said. "Who's going to play wizard and light us a fire? I'm cold, I'm soaking and I hurt in places I don't even have."

"Oho," Ron said, making his way over to them. "Little black horsie of death is tired, is he? I was hoping we could send you back out for take away, Mate."

"Not bloody likely," Harry moaned, slumping forward onto his arms. "This animagus stuff is hard work. Sure, flying looks easy, when you aren't the one flapping away. Besides, look what he's eating," he said, nodding toward Xavier. "That looked awfully tasty to me a few minutes ago too."

"Urgh," Ron grimaced. "So what does it feel like to be a flying death horse? When did you know? Was that what you were practicing with Fawkes?"

"No," said Harry, his voice muffled. "I didn't know until I found I could talk to Xavier. And then all of a sudden I just… knew. How to do it and everything. How weird is that?"

"From anyone else, mate, that'd be beyond belief. With you just lately, nothing could surprise me."

"Wish it worked the other way round," Harry said tiredly, pushing himself slowly upright. "If I could just be invisible to people who've seen more than their fair share of death already instead, it might've come in handy around Voldemort."

"On the other hand," Ron said with a grin, "That's the happiest I've ever seen Hermione about flying."

"Ronald," Luna chided gently coming to sit beside Harry. "Don't tease. It's funny, but it isn't nice."

Suddenly the stress of the whole situation took hold of Hermione and she shed it in the only way she could think of that wouldn't freak Harry out. Tears were a Cho reminder and hence out of the question, so Hermione began to laugh.

"There is just no way…" she gasped, "of describing that experience that wouldn't come across as completely…" She cast about desperately for the right word.

"Erotic?" supplied Luna.

She hadn't been going there, exactly, but…

"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, blushing but aware that if she couldn't be honest with these three, she'd never be with anyone. "What a rush. When you took off…it felt unbelievable."

She thought Harry would be embarrassed as well, but perhaps the strangeness of the whole situation and the feeling of being somehow outside time had hit him too. His smile was both shy and sort of wolfish all at once.

"Really? You can er, fly me anytime you like, then" he told her. "Perhaps without the dragons next time, though."

"Watch. If I suddenly turned out to be an animagus I'd be a ruddy wolfhound like Fang or something, drooling everywhere. Nobody'd get a thrill out of riding me," Ron groaned pitifully.

"I think I could still enjoy riding you as Fang," Luna mused.

Harry and Hermione quite deliberately avoided each other's eyes after that.

"Must find firewood," Harry said, climbing to his feet. "Somewhere way over there."

"Wait up," Hermione begged.

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It was ironic how Ron and Luna suddenly had so much to say to each other; they were at a stage of their emerging relationship that Harry and Hermione had never had - that getting-to-know-you-hey-that's-my-favorite-flavor-too point that for them had happened entirely innocently and at eleven and twelve. All Harry wanted now was evident to her in those beautiful green eyes glancing off hers across the flickering firelight. Hermione experienced a wave of desire so strong she actually squirmed on her rock. Ouch. The thought of Harry, rock hard and moving within her was suddenly so strong she would not have put it past him to be sending it her way. Either that or her imagination was getting way more vivid than it used to be. She let her eyes close, and the feeling intensified.

Not that she wasn't happy for Ron and Luna, really she was, but if she had to listen to them and only watch him for five more minutes she was going to explode.

"Um, before we turn in we should really check out the back of the cave and make sure there aren't any signs of animal occupation," she said. "Something could be living back there and just out hunting now. We don't want to wake up to anything like that coming home."

Considering the state of her emotions it was an impressively logical, Hermione-like thing to say.

"I'll go," she offered.

"We'll both go," Harry said. "Luna and Ron can keep warm by the fire. It shouldn't take long."

"Not long at all," she said feelingly.

"Unless of course the cave requires repeated examinations to make sure it's safe."

Good Lord. Could she still even walk if he kept that up? What had come over her?

Harry was getting to his feet and his face was half in shadow but she could hear the grin in his voice.

Ron coughed to cover his own sudden smile and said, "Thanks, mate. Just call if you need us."

"Oh I think I've got this covered," Harry told him. "You give us a yell if anything… unusual happens up here."

Luna's smile was gentle and serene; despite the dangers inherent in their situation Hermione got the feeling she wouldn't want to be anywhere else, and the boys' unsubtle doubletalk wasn't fazing her a bit.

Hermione lit her wand tip and led the way around several Hagrid-sized boulders fallen at haphazard angles. They picked their way through a patch of smaller rocks, as if a larger one had fallen and shattered, and then the way smoothed out again. There was what seemed to be a second smaller chamber beyond the first and they prowled the perimeter, wands sweeping for danger. It proved unoccupied, and they saw no obvious signs of a nest or den.

Hermione turned and threw herself at him with the same force and enthusiasm as their first and second year hugs but all the knowledge of his body and desires she had only more recently acquired. The combination was highly effective, if she did say so herself.

He caught her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, wriggling closer as her fingers worked their way into his wayward hair and her lips found the spot on his neck that seemed as if it was directly connected to his… oh yes… it was.

He made a fierce, guttural sound, his arms drawing her against him as he leant back against the cave wall. She made her way from his neck to his lips, warm and eager against her own. He seemed to sense something of her need and teased her, kissing her back but letting her tongue bump against his teeth as if he didn't know she needed desperately to feel his tongue start what she wanted the rest of him to deliver. She bit his lower lip, softly at first but then harder, insistent. His jaw softened and she could feel the vibration of his muffled laughter in his chest as her tongue found his. It only took a few slow, promising strokes along the underside to lure him into her own mouth and start the sense of connection between them she so craved. She began to move against him in time to it, hands slipping down his chest to pull at the button of his jeans.

His head pulled back, his breathing satisfactorily ragged.

"Down, now," he managed. "erm, please."

Hermione undid her cloak and let it drop behind her, transfiguring the puddle of black wool into a mattress of sorts. She glanced behind her to be sure the spell went correctly and noticed that the fur lining he had given her hood remained in a patch in the very center. The thought of his warm skin above her and the fur beneath set off a fierce spasm of want within her, stronger than anything she had ever yet known.

"Harry."

He must have heard it in her voice because he didn't have to be told twice; he laid her gently down and stretched out beside her on his side, reclaiming her lips. They started to shed each others clothes; unbuttoning, pulling, unzipping. The way his hips lifted as she slid his jeans down was somehow irresistibly erotic to her, watching them do it again as she drew down his boxers seemed to ignite a fire in her own groin, almost as much as the happy evidence of his desire for her when she carefully extricated it.

She curled her fingers around him firmly, possessively, and felt both his tongue and hips thrust back in response. He murmured her name, almost slurring it in his pleasure, and his hands finished with her outer clothes and began seeking her as well.

His fingers slipped beneath the waist of her knickers and her eyes closed to savor the intensity of her bodies' response to him; he stroked her just the way she liked, not teasing but still slow and tentatively enough to leave plenty of room for the more she always craved, and she could feel his own reaction to hers quivering in her palm.

It wasn't long before the probing of his fingers grew more inspired and the knickers seemed to be slowing him down. She felt them simply dissolve in a pulse of magical energy that caught her by surprise and almost pushed her over an edge she had been unaware was so close. She heard herself gasp and pulled his hand away; threading her fingers through his but still stroking him with the thumb of her other hand. She could feel his breathing match her movements; she sped up slightly and with a slight hitch so did he.

"You can't just make a girls' knickers disappear like that, Harry,"

"Do you want them back, then?" he growled.

Gods no.

"I don't know what's gotten in to me," she said softly.

"I know what wants to," he told her, and rolled them both over. He drew himself up over her, bracing his weight on his forearms and gazing down eye to eye. She thought that just the way he was looking at her, all the emotions swirling in those familiar eyes, would be enough to live on forever.

"I think that I could lose myself just watching you watch me," she whispered.

"I think I'd like to watch that," he whispered back.

Her hands skimmed up his sides to his shoulders and then down the taught, waiting muscles of his back, urging him closer. He shuddered and she felt him rear back, felt the lovely blind probing hardness against her, the way they worked together, barely breathing, to complete their coupling. She could not hold back an inarticulate cry as he buried himself and he stopped at once and made as if to withdraw.

"No, no, you're lovely, it's alright, I've just wanted you so much, all today," she told him, and used her arms and legs and every muscle she still had control of to draw him closer, nearer, further in. "Please, Harry."

She wasn't sure what she was asking for, or exactly what she wanted; she only knew the answer was somehow more.

As if in response she felt his arms slide under her, felt him draw back and lift her with him until they were both upright, still joined, and then settled back until she was straddling him and he was braced against the rock wall. They had had little enough time together that they hadn't explored much in the way of improvisation; had simply followed their instincts to completion. Hermione was floored by the difference a simple change of position could bring, not just the way she seemed to be able to maneuver him deeper still but the freedom of her movement and the increased… visibility. She watched their joined hips rocking and felt a wash of love and for some reason protectiveness that made her momentarily dizzy.

His arms moved more firmly around her, holding her against his chest.

"Okay?" he asked tentatively.

She nodded, framing his face with her hands and covering it with quick light kisses. "I love this," she managed, almost breathless.

"I thought you might," he grinned.

She felt herself smile in answer and changed their rhythm slightly, adding a small squirm against him at the height of each thrust. It was his turn for inarticulate expression; the sound that escaped him made no sense but she heard a low, urgent Oh, Hermione… somewhere inside her head.

His hands slid to her hips but rested there gently; he let her choose the speed and intensity of their movement together. He found her lips and took his possession there instead; as intense as what was happening between her legs might be, it was nothing compared to what was being wrested from her mouth. She let her own hands wander over him, everywhere. He was still wiry in his build, whippet strong and lean, and she couldn't imagine wanting anything else. Her fingers ran down his belly and shyly touched their joining; she felt his approval in a low hum that seemed to vibrate through her on a wavelength that weakened her knees and only brought him further into her as she settled more bonelessly astride him. Her need to reach wherever he was taking her grew more intense, the edges of her vision blurred until there was only Harry, only him. Even their kisses slowly ceased until they were simply breathing against each other, rapt.

So close.

She could feel him start to give in to the insistent pull; his head slid forward and he buried his face in her hair. She shifted against him, brought her hand up to join the other and frame his face, pulling it back in front of her. He protested the loss of the sensation of her hand between them, his eyes fluttering open.

"I want to see you," she told him and he nodded, sweat darkening his fringe and making his eyes even greener in comparison.

"I will, Hermione, please, do what you were…"

She nodded back to show she understood and let one had slide back down his sweat-slicked skin, over the sharp angle of his hip bone and downward. It seemed a crime to part their skin even for the added intensity of stroking fingers so she changed her plan of attack, but his reaction when she reached home and cupped him was more than worth it. It was as if a door somewhere between them opened or an unknown wall finally fell; she was certain that she felt within her own body things she did not have the capacity or… equipment to feel. She knew simultaneously the pleasure he invoked in her and yet how she felt to him as well. She met his eyes and saw the effort in them, knew what he was giving her.

There was no shadow of evil in him at all; in this most vulnerable of times he was clearly focused only on loving her and she felt sure somehow that whatever he carried could never truly overtake him. Remember, said a voice in her mind, but it wasn't hers. Believe.

His eyes struggled against his own pleasure to remain open and she hurriedly kissed him, whispering small encouragements to let go.

"But you wanted," his lips moved against hers.

She cradled his barely-resisting head against her shoulder. "It's okay," she reassured him. "I love you, Harry. I hope we'll have a lifetime to watch each other. You just showed me something so much more."

The feeling of his release was enough to ignite hers; she heard him stutter a wandless Silencio as she gave in.

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