Unofficial Portkey Archive

With Malice Aforethought

S. P. Smith

Two weeks later Hermione and Ron sat at one desk in the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry sharing a desk next to them with Susan Bones. Professor Lupin had spent September and the first half on October reviewing the previous five years worth of material, and was just now moving on to cover all new territory in this advanced course. Currently, he was leaning up against the table at the head of the classroom, threadbare robes pulled back and hands tucked into a dusty cardigan. Arrayed across the table behind him were various items; mouldering books, mirrors, ornate necklaces, and even, horrifically, a severed mummy's hand.

"So then," Lupin began, looking out over the classroom. "Over the last five years, you've studied Dark Creatures and Dark Spells. Would anyone like to venture a guess at what we'll be looking at next?"

Unsurprisingly, Hermione's hand was the first into the air. Lupin smiled indulgently, and called on her to answer. "Dark Objects, or items that have been enchanted or cursed to do Dark acts on their own."

"Correct, and five points to Gryffindor." Professor Lupin extracted his hands from his pockets, and clasped them together. "Now, does anyone know of any Dark objects?"

Oddly enough, Ron's hand shot up alongside his girlfriend's. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron cleared his throat before speaking. "A lot of the old Egyptian wizards used to use cursed objects to protect tombs. Either Dark objects as cover stones and the like, so you'd get hit when you opened the chamber, or cursed trinkets scattered about with the treasure, so that robbers would pick them up and get hit."

"Excellent! Not just the items, but their uses, hmm? Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley." Hermione beamed proudly at Ron, and sighed lightly. Lupin continued. "So we have Egyptian objects. Anyone know any others?"

Harry raised his hand, and Lupin nodded at him. "Portkeys can be Dark, sir."

The class went dead silent, and Harry could hear Hermione's sharp intake of breath to his left. After the Quibbler article last year, the entire student body knew that Voldemort had used a Portkey to abduct Harry and Cedric Diggory, and trap them far from help. No one other than Hermione had, however, actually heard him speak about it.

"Portkeys can be used as traps by Dark Wizards, true. But then, pretty much everything we teach you all about can be misused by Dark Wizards. A little later in the course, we're going to cover innocuous magics, and how they can be abused."

Remus leaned back to pick up a tarnished silver mirror, and held it up for the class to look at. "For now, let's focus on those objects whose enchantments can only be used for ill. For example, this is a Morgraine's Mirror. Does anyone recognize the name?"

As one, the class shook their heads. Ron and Harry looked over at Hermione, but she merely shrugged. Harry noted that their Professor had the mirror pointed oddly at the ceiling. At the lack of recognition, Professor Lupin continued. "Prior to the Dementor Treaties, these mirrors were used to help incarcerate wizarding prisoners. As long as the looking glass is facing a wizard, it temporarily saps them of their ability to use magic."

The class shivered at this, and Lupin smiled ruefully. "Yes, a pretty awful thing, isn't it?"

But Hermione's hand had shot back up into the air, and when the teacher called upon her, she had a question already. "But why is that a Dark object, specifically? You said it was temporary, and if it doesn't hurt you, why is it different than a Weasley Wizard Wheeze?"

Ron made a strangled sound at this, and looked at Hermione as though she'd gone mad. But Lupin nodded. "Excellent question, Hermione. How about a comparison to something more familiar. You all know dozens of spells that could cause someone pain. Why then is the Cruciatus Curse unforgivable? Does anyone know how it works?"

Harry answered without raising his hand. "You have to want to cause pain."

"Yes." Remus pointed at him. "You have to want, with all your will, to torture someone. Cruciatus works by focusing malicious cruelty at a victim. And that is why it is an Unforgivable. Accidental, or even incidental infliction of pain can be understood, or at the very least forgiven. But deliberately learning to embrace causing the absolute agony of others without the least doubt in your mind, that is what is Unforgivable."

Hermione's hazel eyes narrowed in thought, and she spoke almost to herself. "So the real dividing line between right and wrong, between acceptable and Dark, isn't action, but intent."

"And a Mirror of Morgraine is intended to subject one wizard to another." Lupin shook a finger at Hermione. "It's intent is to control, to subjugate. And it works by sucking the power, the magic, out of its' victim."

Ron's lip curled as he pondered the implications of this. "So you mean to say, that little bauble has the intentions of an Imperious Curse, and the methods of a Dementor?" His voice went up on the last few words.

Lupin nodded grimly. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Neville jumped in at this. "And the Ministry of Magic used these things?"

Lupin leaned back upon the table. "They still use Dementors, Mister Longbottom, and those are far worse. I'm afraid that the older you get, the more you will come to find that governments are all too willing to sacrifice principle for expediency, whenever the chips are down."

He pushed away from the table, put his hands into his pockets, and began pacing around the room. "But before I instigate a second S.P.E.W. campaign, let's also remember that these are the kind of Dark object I can safely show you all in class. These are controlled, not forbidden items. We will study just what is out there, but much of it is far too dangerous to bring onto Hogwarts grounds. The Mirror is pretty awful, but it was meant to counter much worse.

"Now, turn to page seventy-three in your texts, and we'll take a look at some of the 'worse,' shall we?"

And with that, twenty books opened, and pages ruffled to find the assigned reading.

* * *

Later that morning Harry, Ron, and Hermione tromped down the stairs into the entrance hall. Defense had just let out, and Harry had decided to walk them out to Care of Magical Creatures. He didn't have that class this year, and his odd schedule was blank at this hour. But he figured he could greet Hagrid, and spend some time outdoors. He needed to work on carving a couple of figures for Artifaction, and didn't want to do his work cooped up in the library if he didn't have to.

They pushed open the oaken the rear doors, and passed the clock tower as they walked through the southern courtyard. Hermione had forgone her oversized bags of previous years, and only had a small messenger's bag with her as she lead the way. "I still think the difference between a Dark artifact and a legitimate one is awfully fuzzy. I mean, it isn't really something you can codify."

Harry remained mum. Ron, however, jumped into the fray. "I dunno, Hermione. It seemed pretty easy to look at an artifact and figure out if it was Dark."

She shook her head at this. "But what are the rules for figuring it out!"

Ron shrugged. "I guess the only thing I can think of is that I'd know one if I saw it."

Hermione pulled the satchel closer. "Seems a frightful way to define something that's illegal."

"If it works, it works," was Ron's response.

"Yes," answered Hermione, looking worried. "If it works."

"Er, 'Mione?" Ron tapped her arm, and pointed down the slope towards Hagrid's hut. "Do I have a cousin I don't know about, or something?"

Hermione turned to look at Ron, ignoring his pointing. "Honestly, how would I know that?"

He shrugged. "You know everything."

Harry, however, had followed Ron's outstretched finger. Down by the pumpkin patch next to the rude hut stood a figure, dwarfed by Hagrid's immense bulk. The brilliant red hair, and fiery red jacket were a dead giveaway; it was Morgan. Harry groaned, and slapped his forehead.

Hermione spun to face him so rapidly, her hair whipped about her face. "Harry! Is your scar hurting?"

"No." Harry gestured toward his muggle guardian. "Just my pride."

"You know her?" Ron cocked his head at Harry, clearly expecting an answer. He was disappointed; Harry headed off down the hill towards Morgan, looking for answers of his own.

"'Arry, Ron, 'Ermione!" Hagrid saw them scampering towards his hut, and waved them down. "I was just inviting Miss Aedernmas in for a cuppa and kettle cakes. You three can come in, and tell me why I 'aven't heard abou' you gettin' a social worker."

Ron tuned to Harry, puzzlement stamped on his features. "A social what?"

Hermione grimaced in sudden understanding, and leaned in towards the dark-haired boy so that only he could hear. Taking Harry's arm gently, she whispered, "Do you want us to leave?"

Harry shook his head 'no,' and lead the way into Hagrid's hut. Everyone followed along in his wake including Fang, Hagrid's boar hound. Once the door was shut tight, Harry moved away from Hermione and rounded on the social worker. "What are you doing here?"

Morgan hadn't heard Hermione's whisper, so she gestured around at the other occupants of the room. "Would you rather talk about this privately?"

He threw his arms up in sudden exasperation. "Might as well get it all done with at once. What are you doing at Hogwarts?"

"I'm your social worker, Harry," Morgan answered simply. "I'll be checking up on you regularly to make sure things are going well. I thought you understood that when we removed the Dursley's as your guardians."

Ron turned to look at Harry. "You got away from the Dursley's?"

"No, I still have to stay there. Ms. Aedernmas just comes by to make sure I get fed regularly." Harry turned back to Morgan. "And I know you're checking up on me when I'm living with the Dursley's. But that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Fed regularly?" Hermione looked pale, her hazel eyes worried. "Is that why you're always asking us to send you food over the summer? Oh, I thought-"

"Don't look at me like that, Hermione." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm fine, really."

"Obviously," Morgan interjected dryly. "That's why you have a social worker; because things have been going oh-so-well."

"Wait just a moment here!" Hagrid dropped into his hugely over sized chair. "Harry, why didn't you tell anyone abou' this?"

"Because I'm fine, Hagrid. Really." He held up a hand to forestall any more questions from the half-giant. "I still want to know why you're here, Ms. Aedernmas."

"Obviously, I'm checking up on your treatment here as well." Morgan planted her hands on her hips, and harrumphed. "Or have you forgotten it was your headmaster who abandoned you to those... to the Dursley's."

"He would not!" Hagrid bolted to his feet, jostling the cured hams and pots dangling from the ceiling. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard who ever lived!"

Hermione moved over to Harry and set lightly upon the edge of the window seat next to him. "But the Headmaster was the one who put Harry with the Dursley's, wasn't he Hagrid?"

"And he knew it was an inappropriate environment for a young boy," Morgan ground out, her voice sharp as cut glass. "Since he kept Obliterating all the social workers who went there to help."

"Obliviating, you mean." Harry corrected her misstep without thinking.

"Obliviating?" Ron looked horrified.

Hagrid's thick brows and bushy beard contracted so intensely, his beetle-black eyes were nearly obscured. He seemed at a loss as to where to put his hands. "He did that, did he?"

Harry flinched. "It sounds worse than it is..."

Hagrid pulled his moleskin overcoat off the table, and tossed it across one tree-trunk sized arm. He spoke under his breath before heading for the door. "'Scuse me a minute. I need to go talk to a wizard about summat."

Hagrid stumped up the hill, calling out abruptly to his Advanced Care of Magical Creatures class that it was cancelled for today. Harry and Ron exchanged horrified glances.

Harry spoke first. "This can't be good."

Ron frowned sarcastically. "You think?"

"I think it actually could be a good thing," Hermione said in a soft, strong voice.

"How?" Harry dropped into Hagrid's recently vacated seat by the window. Fang made a low, muffled sound between a moan and a whine, and settled his drooling chin upon Harry's knees. "I don't want Hagrid to get in trouble with Dumbledore because of me."

"Harry." Hermione smiled softly at him, torn between sadness and mirth. She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I think Dumbledore is the one in trouble with Hagrid. And that seems like a good thing."

Ron snorted. "How do you reckon?"

"If I ever make a mistake," Hermione answered from her window sill perch. "I'd hope my friends would tell me about it, Ron."

"But this is, like, Dumbledore!" Ron looked shocked and worried. "He can't make mistakes! He's... Dumbledore!"

"Of course he can." Harry shrugged. "He just makes bigger, more impressive mistakes."

Morgan folded her arms and set her jaw. "This is a bit of a somber conversation for three sixteen-year olds, don't you think?"

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Ron smiled at her. "If it's not life or death, it's not time for classes yet."

"Sorry." Hermione interrupted, gesturing to herself and her boyfriend. "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley."

"I recognized you from Harry's description." Morgan smiled back. "Morgan Aedernmas, and delighted to meet you both."

"'Harry's description,' you say?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she sketched a none-to-threatening glare at the dark haired boy. She shook his sleeve playfully. "I'd love to hear 'Harry's description' sometime."

"Very positive, I assure you," said Morgan with a laugh.

"I'm sure," Hermione drawled.

"Oh, c'mon 'Mione." Ron laughed openly. "How are you afraid Harry described you? Bushy hair, or walking encyclopedia?"

Harry winced at this, and Hermione gathered herself up, lips tightening. As he awaited the inevitable explosion, Morgan smoothly stepped in. "I think it was more along the lines of 'thick, pretty hair,' and 'really brilliant,' actually."

Harry noticed Hermione's hackles relax at this, and the tension left her slight frame. He relaxed, thankful that her explosion, however understandable, had been cut off at the pass.

His relief was short lived. Ron went red to his ears. "What? You're talking about my girlfriend as pretty?"

"What Ron?" Hermione's temper flared to life in an instant. "I'm not, am I? Not pretty, I mean. Not more interesting than an encyclopedia!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Ron glared at her, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Just as she opened her mouth to fire off a stinging retort, Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed gently. He addressed Ron, however. "Ron, I know that what Hermione said isn't what you were trying to say. But what came out sounded... pretty bad. Maybe you-"

"Maybe I what?" Ron snapped. "I got a better idea. Maybe you should butt out of conversations that don't concern you."

With that, Ron turned and stormed out of Hagrid's hut and marched grimly up toward the castle. The door swung crazily behind him. Harry, Morgan, and Hermione stared at each other in silence. Hermione broke the silence first. "Typical! He insults us both, then disappears before either of us get to say anything about it!"

"Oh, I think everyone argued enough for one day." Harry grinned weakly. "I just hope he gets over it soon. I'd like to spend time with my friends without yelling sometime soon."

"Hmm. Yes." Hermione sat still, thinking.

Morgan cleared her throat, clearly a little uncomfortable. "So Harry... You didn't tell me your two friends were dating."

"We weren't." Hermione looked across Harry at Morgan, smiling wanly. "Or at least, Harry didn't know it yet."

"Ah. Well, when you came in, I thought you two were the, well, you know..." Morgan gestured down at Harry and Hermione's hands, which were still touching, forgotten. At this the two teens blushed, and their hands jumped back to their laps. Morgan laughed. "Sorry, my mistake."

"I'm very sorry you had to be here for this." Hermione spoke without quite meeting the social worker's gaze. "Ron's just very difficult sometimes."

Harry shrugged. "You're not exactly catching us at our best."

"I'll bet." Morgan moved toward the door, then turned and came back to Harry. Pulling a box out of her pocket, she handed it to the teenager. "Before I forget, Happy Birthday."

Harry blinked in wonder, holding the box in front of his face. "It's not my birthday."

Morgan smiled. "Then think of it as a thank you for saving me from getting zapped."

Harry unwrapped the box, and stared in surprise. He found a the white cardboard box, decorated with text and swooping primary colours. With no idea what he was looking at, he merely looked up at Morgan and smiled. "Thank you. It's, er, very nice."

She blinked at him. "No idea what they are, huh?"

"They?" So there was more than one something inside. He opened the box, and found a number of smaller, similarly decorated boxes inside. "Er, sorry, no."

"Contacts, Harry." At his continued blank look, Morgan smiled and squatted down to help him open the smaller boxes. "They're contact lenses, to replace your glasses. You told me you played sports here, and these are supposed to be loads better than glasses for that sort of thing."

Harry looked up from the package in frank wonder. In his head, he was picturing flying flying high over the crowded stands, with no glasses to get wet or broken. "Brilliant! I can't wait 'til our first game!"

"Actually, you shouldn't wait 'til your first game, Harry," Hermione said from the window ledge. "You'll need to give your eyes time to adjust to the lenses, so you should wear the contacts for several weeks before you try competing with them in."

Morgan and Harry stared at her for a few beats. Visibly uncomfortable, Hermione continued. "What? Just because I don't need contacts doesn't mean I'm unfamiliar with them."

Morgan hid a smile, but Harry smiled openly. "I'm not surprised you know all about them."

Morgan straightened, her knees popping audibly. "And I'm off to the castle. I need to interrogate your teachers, you know."

Harry's smile faded. "Do you have to?"

"Yes." Morgan reached the door. "And I got zapped repeatedly in order to be able to do my job, so you just say thank you and leave it at that."

She waited at the door, until finally Harry swallowed. "Thank you, I guess."

Morgan laughed, and waggled a finger at the two teens. "That'll have to do. Now, why don't you two go and patch things up with your friend, hmm?"

They watched her head away from the hut and towards the castle. After a little while, they got up to follow along. Harry pet Fang for a moment, and tossed the giant dog one of Hagrid's rock cakes for a snack. Fang caught it, engulfing it with his enormous jowls. A couple of experimental chews later, the giant dog spat the cake onto the hardwood floor with a heavy 'thunk.' Fang slid to the ground, disgruntled, and grunted his displeasure. Hermione laughed, and passed the dog some kitty treats from her backpack.

They left the hut, and Hermione turned to Harry. "Does sort of make you wonder what he eats, with Hagrid cooking."

"Probably has an iron stomach by now." Harry shouldered his bag. "Or he knows the house elves."

"Hmm." Hermione let the house elf comment pass. As the only wizard she knew who managed to free a house elf, and make them happy about it, Harry had a certain leeway on this topic that others didn't. Still, house elves made her think of arguments. Arguments made her think of Ron. This brought her back to something that had been bothering her for a while. "Harry, do you think Ron and I argue a lot."

Harry snorted, and turned with a smile to toss back a friendly gibe. When he saw the serious expression clouding her features, he came up short. "Seriously?"

"Yes." They kept moving toward the castle, but walked slower now, in order to make time to finish this conversation.

Harry knew his answer instantly, but he took a long time finding words to express it. "You both fight with each other an awful lot. But I think it's kind of okay, still."

She furrowed her brow at this. "How is having shouting matches with your boyfriend a good thing, exactly?"

He didn't have a lot of words to describe this. "Well, look at his parents."

"I don't see what they have to do with Ron and I, Harry."

"They're like the opposite of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, really." Harry tried working it through in his head. It was a thought he'd had before, but hadn't ever been able to verbalize, really. "My Aunt and Uncle are always polite. Civil. And they never show any love, ever. No hugs, or kisses, or anything. Well, Mrs. Weasley sort of yells at Mr Weasley and tells him what to do all the time. But she loves him, and takes care of him, and I know they're really in love. So maybe love is all about caring enough to fight and make up about it."

"'Holy Cricket!" Hermione looked absolutely aghast. She froze in spot on the path. "Ron wants me to be... his mother! Oh, no. No, I don't think so!"

Harry wasn't sure he was saying this clearly. It was still such a muddled concept even in his own head. "It isn't a bad thing, Hermione. I mean look, they really, really love each other, so it's like-"

"'No, Harry, I assure you it's plenty awful." Hermione shuddered. "I don't care if she is nice, I don't want to be a fifty year old housewife, thank you very much. Nor do I want to mother Ron."

"Well," Harry shrugged. "You do tell him to do his homework, and chew with his mouth closed, and- what?"

Hermione gaped. "I'm not like that, am I? I'm not really... you know."

"No, of course not," Harry answered reassuringly. "No mothering. More, I don't know. Supportive girlfriend. That's good, right?"

"Oh dear," was all Hermione could manage for a moment. She sighed and continued up towards Hogwarts Castle. "This will be be quite a fight, won't it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry was utterly lost.

She looked sidelong at him. "I'm nipping this disturbing little Oedipal issue in the bud. And I can't imagine Ron will be please when I tell him I don't want to be his mother."

"Ah." Harry was wide-eyed. "Right. Uh, Hermione, could you have that conversation with him when I'm not around?"

She laughed humourlessly. "I imagine I'll have that conversation someplace I can put a Silencing Charm around."

They walked in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, Hermione spoke up again. "It's odd, really. I guess I was expecting a relationship more like my parents have."

Harry gestured for her to continue. He'd only seen her parents at a distance on a scant handful of occasions, and didn't know how to respond. Fortunately the ambiguous wave was sufficient, for she continued. "They're both dentists, you know. Professionals. They definitely love each other, and like to spend time together. But they, I don't know... They don't have big, blazing rows about things. They talk to each other."

Harry smiled. "Well, you're not your parents, any more than Ron's his."

"Yes, but they..." She snapped her fingers, a clarity appearing in her deep brown eyes. "They respect each other! That's what it is. The wouldn't have these rows because they respect each other too much."

Harry blinked, startled. "You don't respect Ron?"

"Of course I do," Hermione snapped.

He grimaced. "So it's all his fault then?"

Hermione looked furious, and bunched up to start arguing with Harry. Seeing his sad, concerned look drained the combativeness from her. She thought about what he said. "I respect him, I do. And I know he respects me."

"You just don't do a good job of showing it when you two throw a row," Harry finished up.

She sighed again. "Well, it'll give me something to think about, I guess."

"I guess." Harry smiled slightly.

Hermione glanced at him sidelong. "And what about you, Harry?"

His bottle green eyes squinted behind his round-lensed glasses. "What about me?"

She answered patiently. "Do you think you'll act like your role models whenever you find a girl?"

Harry 's perplexed expression didn't change. "'Mione, I've never met my parents. There's no way I could act-"

"Not your parents." She explained her question like she explained homework. "Your Aunt and Uncle."

Harry's head jerked back. "Not a chance in hell."

Hermione peered at him dubiously. "Harry, you did say that your Uncle was polite, but emotionally distant."

He stopped walking for a moment, then kept going. "Do you think I'm like that? Like him, I mean?"

"No." Hermione laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But I do think you aren't comfortable expressing how you feel."

Harry blinked a few times, rapidly. He didn't think he had a problem expressing himself. Certainly he had no problem yelling when he was angry. And he stood up to people like Umbridge or Malfoy easily enough. But what about everything else. A thought occurred to him, and he spoke it without thinking. "My letters to you and Ron, and Ginny, and Luna... That really was the first time I've told you all what you mean to me."

Hermione nodded. "And that was your attempt to get us all to stay away from you."

Harry shuddered. "I don't want to be anything like the Dursleys."

She smiled gently. "Then don't be. I imagine that if you can conjure a Patronus at thirteen, you can say 'I love you' by sixteen."

Harry looked more pale than usual. "I don't think I'm at all ready to find someone to say 'I love you' to, Hermione."

She took him by the arm, and headed for the front entrance. "No one ever is, Harry. You just do it anyway."

He looked at her with wide, green eyes. "I think I was less scared of the Dementors."

"Okay, well that's no good," she laughed. "Why don't you start off small."

"Small?" This sounded much better to him. How small could he get away with?

"Yes, small." She steered him up the steps, and across the courtyard. "Try telling your friends how you feel about them. Tell Ron, for example."

"Ron?" Harry grinned. That sounded easy enough. He could just say 'you know you're, like, my best mate, right?' Then they'd hit each other on the arm, and the whole stomach knotting emotion-thing would be over.

"Yes." She glared at him, almost as though reading his mind. "But no gruff little boy pushing matches. Try using some words, Harry."

"Ah." Maybe this wasn't that small a task after all. Ron was definitely going to be laughing at him. A lot.

She started up the stairs toward the Gryffindor tower. "And while we look for him, you can tell me about the part of this summer where you saved a social worker from getting zapped. It wasn't in your letters, Harry."

He shuffled a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "It's almost a funny story..."

* * *

Harry tromped down the staircase toward the Great Hall by himself some minutes later. After smoothing over some ruffled feathers from their earlier argument, Ron and Hermione were settling in to what she called a long 'serious and mature discussion about their relationship.' Harry noticed she wanted to have it in a deserted classroom with silencing spells on the door. Having learned at a young age how to stay alive in dangerous circumstances, Harry promptly fled. He didn't have the time to head back outdoors before his next class, so he instead opted to get a spot of work done in the library.

Taking Hermione's advice, he was now trying out a pair of Morgan's contacts. It was truly an odd set of sensations. Although he'd never noticed before, Harry was accustomed to looking at a world bordered by the fuzzy circle of his frames. This was gone now, as was the slight weight at the bridge of his nose. It felt odd, but the absence of a few grams of weight seemed to make his head lighter. Less comforting was the way in which the world seemed to get ever so slightly fuzzy now whenever he blinked.

In less than fifteen minutes, he'd poked himself in the face on no less than three occasions. He kept trying to push glasses that were no longer there back up his nose. Hermione had been right; it was going to take some time to get used to this. But once he did, Harry planned on giving the Slytherin Quidditch team what for.

The library had a few high Gothic windows, but the towering mahogany shelves blocked the light so effectively that even by midmorning Madam Pince had the torches lit. Few students were here to study at this hour, with most of the school in classes or enjoying the last of the comfortable weather. But to one side of the stacks, Harry saw a fall of red hair next to blond and realized he knew at least two of the occupants. Harry dropped his bag onto the table opposite Ginny and Luna, and pulled his carving set out as he smiled a greeting at them.

Ginny didn't look up from the scroll she was writing for Charms. "Where are they; snogging or fighting?"

Harry paused for a moment to parse the question. It took him a moment to realize she was asking about Hermione and her brother, but when he did, he laughed. "Fighting, I think. I left as fast as I could."

Ginny looked up at Harry and froze, eyes wide. She worried her lower lip with one eyetooth. "Oh."

Harry smiled warmly, and patted her hand gently. "I wouldn't worry. I think they're actually getting better at it."

She blinked slowly, staring at him as he laughed. He sobered up a little, and resumed getting his Artifaction project ready. Obviously, he thought, she didn't find any humor in Ron and Hermione's endless feuding. "Not that I find their fights funny, or anything. Because I don't. Find them funny, I mean."

She continued to stare at him oddly. Finally, she bowed her head to stare at her scroll, and tapped it with her raven feather quill. "I'm working on my essay here."

Harry jumped slightly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt." He bent his head to his carving, and got to work.

"You didn't interrupt!" Ginny blurted. Harry looked back up, finding her still staring at her essay. She wasn't writing, but she wasn't looking at him either. He turned to look at Luna. The younger Ravenclaw was idly examining the bindings of a few reference tomes, and paying no obvious attention to the conversation.

Seeing that Luna would be no help, Harry turned back to Ginny. He ducked his head sideways to try to catch her eye. "Ginny, look at me please?"

Ginny looked up for a moment, then scrabbled out of her chair. Dumping her essay into her bag, she hurried out of the library. Harry called out to her once as she ran off. The only response was a whispered 'hush, Mister Potter' from Madam Pince.

Harry turned in his seat back to Luna. "That was weird."

Luna hummed ambivalently, and set aside one book to examine the bindings of another.

He continued talking, not expecting much of a response from the slightly distant Ravenclaw. "I think I said something to upset her, but I don't really know what it was."

"I don't think you said anything to upset her." Luna slid aside the books she'd been using, and tucked her wand behind her ear for safekeeping as she spoke.

"What then?" Harry shrugged, not understanding his friends at all. "She suddenly remembered someplace she needed to be?"

"I noticed you have those Muggle things in your eyes. Cataracts." Luna fixed him with her ghostly grey eyes. "I read in the Quibbler that some witches and wizards react strongly to them. Perhaps she noticed them, too."

That didn't seem too likely to Harry, but he decided not to fight the point. He started whittling his project for Artifaction, and shot her a warm smile. "Thanks, Luna. I'll keep that in mind."

"I've often wondered about you Harry" Luna tipped her head sideways, letting her long dirty blond hair cascade across the tabletop as she watched him from two chairs down. "Why aren't you having sex?"

Harry narrowly avoided cutting his left thumb off as his carving knife skittered off the block of pine in his hands. "What!?"

Madam Pince shushed Harry from the main desk two stacks over. He slid over one chair, and leaned over to Luna, trying again for a forced whisper rather than a panicky shout. "What?"

Luna continued as though Harry had never interrupted. "I've wondered about your sex life. You realize you're attractive, you have very nice eyes, and you're definitely the brooding, dangerous school hero. I've been wondering why you weren't sneaking off in your invisibility cloak to find deserted classrooms. For things other than fighting Voldemort, I mean."

"Are you asking me if I want to... well, you know. Have sex?" Harry's voice squeaked at least twice trying to get that out. At Luna's earnest nod, he plunged onward. "With you?"

Luna giggled, her hair falling around her shoulders. "Oh Merlin no! I'm saving myself for Ronald, you understand. I realize that human sexuality is supposed to be quite entertaining, but I would rather have just the one boy."

Harry felt very, very dizzy. "Um, Ronald... I mean Ron...he's dating Hermione, Luna."

"Yes, currently." Luna nodded encouragingly, as though speaking to a slow toddler. "But you've changed the topic. I was asking about you."

"Me. Seems a favorite topic today." Harry decided that the dizziness was giving way to a headache. Or at least, it was giving way to an uncomfortable rushing sound in his ears. If she asked him to describe his feelings next, his day would be complete. He fought to find something rational and not embarrassing to say. "Luna, I don't think I'm comfortable talking about... well, you know."

Luna focused on the air over Harry's shoulder, which at that moment was a lot more comfortable for him that her previous straight-into-the-eyes stare had been. She nodded to herself. "Well, that explains that."

Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Luna gathered her books and quills. "It does?"

"Mm-hmm." Luna nodded noncommittally. She shouldered her worn-looking rucksack and wandered out of the library dreamily. Harry stared after her, vaguely horrified. If he had Hermione's Time-Turner, he would have gladly gone back and erased the last few minutes. He tracked her leaving the hall, wondered what exactly she meant by 'that explains that.' He had no idea what that meant, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't exactly complimentary.

A loud thunk behind him startled Harry into leaping halfway out of his chair. He spun to find Ron dropping into the chair next to the stack of books he'd tossed down. Hermione was more delicately sliding into the chair opposite.

Hermione smiled. "Ron and I have things worked out."

He glanced dully over at Ron. Harry's brain felt like it was two conversations and fifteen minutes behind reality. Ron merely looked back at Harry and shrugged. Harry turned back to follow Luna's progress out of the hall, but she'd already disappeared.

Ron leaned in close to Harry, following his line of sight to the door. He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We saw you talking to Luna, mate. Thinking of asking her out?"

Hermione snorted in derision. Fighting Death Eaters alongside Luna had gone a long way toward bridging the gap between the two girls, but there was still a certain distance.

Harry turned to look at Ron oddly. "Me? Not really, no."

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