Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 28,878

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: murphsmine. She's a peach! Any mistakes you find are mines.

WARNING: None. Lot's o' angst, a dash of action(I hope), with a fun moment sprinkled here and there.

Thanks for the great reviews for the last chapter, especially the ones that offered constructive criticism. I heard what some of y'all had to say and tried to improve. For those of you who wanted a little more action...I gave it my best even though it's not my forte. For those of you who felt that Harry needed some work...I tried! I hope some of you are still out there and are still reading. Here's hoping you like this one as much as I do!

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Saturday, 6/11/05

1953 was a good year. England crowned its second Elizabeth, the Kinsey Report made bedtime reading fun again, and George Jorgensen became Christine. The year came with many strides and successes; a polio vaccination, color television, and Churchill won a Nobel Prize. James Bond was born! Alas, so was Michael Bolton.

In the Wizarding world 1953 was a banner year as well. VoodooWop was the hottest sound on the Wireless and The Erl Kings sent many a teen aged witch's heart aflutter with their hit tune "You Conjured up My Heart, Now You Won't Give It Back". The Crucible opened on Broadway to appreciative applause, though through out the audience could be heard grumblings here and there detailing its many factual inaccuracies. And after seven long days in June, the generally acknowledged greatest Quidditch match ever played finally came to an exciting close when the Heidelberg Harriers' captain Rudolf Brand proposed marriage to the Harpies' Gwendolyn Morag. She in turn smacked him over the head with her broom.

1953 was indeed one for the record books. But the year held one other smaller distinction of note. In 1953 a Romnichal wizard named Tabor Joles opened The Three Broomsticks for business. The gypsy and his pregnant wife had come to the town of Hogsmeade only a year prior to settle roots for the small family they had been planning. Sadly his beloved Vadoma died in childbed, but not before giving Tabor a little girl. Tabor put all of his grief aside to raise his infant daughter and make The Three Broomsticks a success. Considering that Tabor's only real competition in town was The Hog's Head, this was not that hard of a feat to accomplish. Tabor was savvy enough to provide his patrons with clean glasses. He also served up a tasty pork pie and his self-made red currant rum was legendary. For nearly fifty years The Three Broomsticks served as the heart of Hogsmeade Village. It was the place to get a warm meal, a stiff stout, and hear the news of the day. Within that time The Broomsticks only closed its doors twice. When Tabor went missing in 1970, more than likely one of the countless victims of Voldemort and his Death Eaters' first campaign of terror, the pub remained empty for nearly three months. Then that summer Tabor's daughter left Hogwarts and reopened the well missed watering hole to the delight of all. Calling herself Madam Rosmerta, the young witch was pretty and pert and so popular amongst the town's denizens that the place was always filled to the rafters from lunch time to close. Ironically nearly thirty years later Tabor's child would become infamous for the part she unwillingly played during the Dark Lord's second reign. Due to her nearly year long exposure to the Imperius Curse, Madame Rosmerta never fully recovered her mental health. After the war ended, upon finally being discharged from St. Mungo's, Rosmerta became a recluse living out the rest of her lonely subsistence in a hovel in Mitcham Common.

The Three Broomsticks stood vacant for years. It suffered very little damage from the Battle of Hogsmeade, but even after the war ended no one stepped forward to try and restore the pub to its former glory. That is until the MacMillans bought out the title, renovated the building, and reopened it to the public in 2002. Hannah and Ernie had always been fond of The Broomsticks; it was where they went on their first date. They both thought it was a shame that such a valuable piece of Hogsmeade history should pass from existence. After pooling all of their resources together the young couple decided that they were just the ones to try and make a go of the business. Their friends as well as the whole town cheered on their effort. The Three Broomsticks was too vital to the survival of the last Wizarding village in the British Isles to just be allowed to fall to rack and ruin so easily. It also held a myriad of warm recollections for many of those who had attended Hogwarts in their youth. Within its walls lived the memories of the thousands of school children who had passed through the inn during its umpteen years in operation; not an inch of the bar hadn't been covered by dueling elbows, not a booth in the room hadn't played host to some small triumph or heartache. A barely of age Arthur Weasley and his young bride spent their Honeymoon night in one of the top floor rooms, both too poor to afford a longer stay. In the little wizards' room to the right, in the stall nearest the door was still scrawled the legend "for a good time floo Snivellus". And in a comfy booth near the kitchen, in a cozy little darkened corner James Potter first held the hand of the Head Girl as they shared a soda and ice with cherry syrup on top between them.

It was in this very same booth that their son now sat as he kept careful watch of his unwitting quarry in the enormous mirror above the bar.

"You're staring."

"Excuse me?"

Harry's head slowly came forward to find the form of a poker faced Blaise Zabini occupying the seat across from him. In his left hand was a snifter that contained a few drabbles of a light brown liquid, honey wine most like. His right hand rested casually on the table top as his immaculately buffed white fingernails drummed against its surface. The Slytherin's slanting dark eyes insolently stared out from his walnut shell colored face at the displeased Gryffindor.

"You're staring," said Zabini again as he set his glass down. "You've been staring at her for nearly fifteen minutes now."

Harry immediately felt his defenses go up. He had chosen the little out of the way booth for strategic purposes. The handful of stragglers still left in The Broomsticks was gathered either around the bar or nearer to the front and hardly anyone paid him or his corner much notice. Harry preferred it this way. His position point gave him the perfect unhampered view of his surroundings. He could see Ron and the twins downing shots of Ironbelly's Vodka at a table on the far side of the establishment. Harry nearly chuckled at the harried expression on Glinda's face as Pansy McLaggen caught her outside the restrooms and proceeded to monopolize her time. And the woman he was monitoring at the bar had yet to realize that Harry hadn't let her out of his sight since entering the pub. Harry thought his surveillance had been pretty inconspicuous. Then Zabini had to go and sit his unwelcomed arse in his booth and blow the Auror's well orchestrated cover to smithereens.

"No I haven't. I don't know what you are talking about Zabini," Harry said coolly as he raised his mug of ale to his lips and took a measured sip. He didn't want to tip his hand to his unwanted guest and let him know that he was indeed guilty as charged. All he needed was another damned Slytherin in his business. Especially this one! Harry detested the man.

Zabini snickered at the shaky ruse easily calling Harry's bluff.

"Yes you have," he said as he foppishly plucked at the sleeves of his finely tailored robes and superiorly turned his nose up at Harry. "You've been staring at her for the last twenty minutes. And what I would like to know is why."

Harry set his mug down and gave Zabini a supremely vexed glare. Harry's opinion of the Slytherin had never really been high. Back in school their paths had rarely crossed, Harry could scarcely recall ever hearing the tall black boy speak until that train ride in Sixth Year when he had gotten himself roped into attending Slughorn's little gathering. But the ever burning enmity between their two houses had ruled out any association they might have ever had right from the start. This continued into their adulthoods. As far as Harry knew, Blaise and his mother Magnifika Zabini had sat on their hands throughout the duration of the war preferring to, as he was oft-heard saying, let the riffraff sort everything out. In Harry's opinion that made Zabini almost as bad as a Death Eater, maybe even a little worse. At least the Death Eaters believed in some cause, no matter how wrongheaded it was. But what Harry eventually came to realize was that Zabini did believe in something wholeheartedly, the power of the mighty galleon. By time Blaise turned seventeen he already held stock in two broom companies, sat on the board of a major potion medicament corporation, and shared ownership of the Tutshill Tornadoes. He owned a large tract of land out in Wales as well. That didn't even include the two vaults at Gringotts that his other "fathers" had left him in their wills. Magnifika's last husband had also bequeathed to his adopted son (and sole heir) a controlling interest in a publishing company called WizzHard Books. Under Blaise's direction WizzHard became notorious for producing salacious unauthorized biographies of the celebrities of the day. Naturally Harry had received the WizzHard treatment. Just a few of the sordid goodies it contained was a detailed, and wholly embarrassing account of the one kiss he shared with Cho, a truly ridiculous claim that he was Godric Gryffindor's heir, and a fuzzy photograph that was supposedly him practicing Quidditch in the buff. The book was a National bestseller of course.

Yes, Zabini was no friend of Harry Potter's. That was why Harry could not understand what would make the wanker invite himself to his table and chat with him as though they were old acquaintances. Harry wanted to make him leave as quickly as possible so he could get back to more pressing concerns. Besides, why should Zabini care what Harry was up to?

"And what business is it of yours anyway Zabini?" Harry inquired as he tried to deflect the question back at the man. There was just the barest hint of irritation in his voice. From the corner of his eye he nonchalantly glanced back up at the mirror to make sure the small swatch of yellow he could see was still standing in the same spot as before.

It was.

"Well the woman is my wife, so it's really not that surprising that I would be concerned, is all," replied Zabini as he leaned against the back of the booth and folded his arms over his chest.

"WIFE?!"

Harry's head had swung back around to face the man. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Zabini gave him the most arrogant of smirks possible as he nodded his head.

"That's right, wife; the woman that's standing over by the bar there talking to that mousy bint Granger. The very same woman you've been ogling for the last half hour. That is my wife."

Harry took another glance back at the bar and for the first time really looked at the shorter, olive complected female that was standing next to his best friend. The two women had been huddled up near the counter for the better part of an hour. Of course Harry had wondered who the woman was and just how Hermione knew her, but he would have never figured her for being Blaise Zabini's wife. Who would have guessed? She looked a little too stiff and all business for the likes of him, what with her glasses and her matronly robes. Harry hadn't even been aware that the spoiled pretty boy had gotten himself hitched.

He turned back to Zabini.

"Fifteen minutes," Harry jokingly corrected him as he quirked a dazed smile. "And you say that's your wife Zabini?"

"Indeed. Now what I would like to know Auror Potter," said the Slytherin as he contemptuously eyed him up and down, "is just what is it about my wife that has you so fascinated."

Harry dryly chuckled as he turned his attention back to the bar. He watched as the woman he had been chasing after all evening began to distractedly gaze about the room. Her companion continued to prattle away to her as though nothing was amiss.

"Oh, nothing too sinister Zabini," Harry assured the other wizard as Hermione looked over her shoulder and her eyes fell on him. Instantly color dotted her cheeks and she anxiously turned her attention back to Zabini's wife.

"I'm just a bloke admiring a beautiful woman."

Since following her off the dance floor at the Ball, Harry and Hermione had been playing an exhausting game of cat and mouse. Something had her agitated and out of sorts and naturally Harry wanted to know what was wrong. But as what was quickly becoming the norm, she wasn't being forthcoming. This only helped to spur on Harry's desire to find out what she was hiding by any means. It was starting to become an arduous cycle.

In the beginning though he hadn't been aware that anything was amiss. When he first laid eyes on Hermione as she walked through the doors of the Great Hall it was all he could do not to drool onto his serviette at the sight of her, all dressed in yellow, as she made her grand entrance. But almost immediately Harry had realized that something was off. That is after he got over his initial jealous reaction of seeing Malfoy draped all over her, the straw headed ponce! But definitely once the envy subsided he had been left with an all encompassing sense that something just wasn't right. Despite her cheery façade Hermione's eyes had been lightly red tinged and glossy, as though she had been crying recently. She had troweled on the make-up to conceal any puffiness or dark shadows underneath them, but her voice had easily given her away. It sounded like she had been gargling gravel, like she had wailed herself horse. She had fooled everyone else but Harry knew her too well not to know that something was up. Problem was that when he went to ask her about it she rebuffed him. That hurt. What had nearly killed him though were the covert glances that she and Malfoy shared when no one had been looking. When they thought no one had been looking, that is. It had been easy enough to figure out that Malfoy knew, or at least had an inkling of what was going on. Malfoy was apparently her new grand confidant. Malfoy was the one with whom she shared secret looks with now. Malfoy! Harry had wanted to yell and break things, preferably Malfoy's scrawny neck.

It was a good thing that he didn't give into his initial urge to make mincemeat out of the pasty prat the moment he parked his arse at the table though or Harry might never have witnessed the truly malicious glare that the blond git leveled at Ginny while he had been casually explaining the reason behind Hermione, Luna, and his late arrival to the Ball. It had been such a minuscule, imperceptible flash of an instant that it would have been insignificant to anyone else if they had caught it. Malfoy's gray eyes had barely cut to Ginny and away as he arrogantly jabbered on and on to the assembled group. But Harry, having spent years as a (sometime) captive audience to Malfoy's infinite idiosyncrasies, knew his partner's mannerisms quite well.

When Malfoy wanted to grandstand and over-inflate his already bloated sense of self-importance, he yelled and caterwauled like a banshee in heat to make sure he had the attention of anyone within listening distance. But when he wanted to put the honest to goodness fear of a Slytherin into a person, he was almost methodical about his approach. First he would give them just the slightest hint that they had somehow managed to cross him; a look, a tip of the head, a well aimed aside that would slice his intended victim just right. No one else would have a clue as to what had just happened except Malfoy and his target. That was the genius behind it. Until he decided to strike, his prey would have to sit and wait for him to make his move. Then, right when the poor hapless sap was at his most vulnerable, Malfoy would go for the jugular.

Yes, Harry knew all of the signs. But for the life of him he had been unable to figure out just why Malfoy had chosen to set his sights on his wife. There was no worry that his partner would actually do anything to harm Ginny, Malfoy wasn't that much of an idiot after all, but Harry was left wondering what was going on with Hermione and just what in the hell Ginny had to do with it. He had connected the two dots; he had yet to figure out exactly how the puzzle pieces fit.

When Malfoy and Hermione excused themselves from the table to go dance, Harry and Ginny had followed after them. He was a horrible dancer but he had been determined to stick close to the two of them so he could figure out what was going on. Although he wasn't able to make out much of what they said to each other, it had been evident that Malfoy was badgering her about something. It had been petty of him, but Harry felt an immense sense of pleasure knowing that Hermione seemed just as unwilling to answer the Slytherin's questions as she was reluctant to respond to his. What displeased him however was Ginny's apparent interest in the pair. She had tried not to look so obvious about it, but from what Harry could tell, Ginny was as distracted by Malfoy and Hermione's presence nearby as he was. That was when Harry began to suspect that Ginny was somehow tied into all of it. He had even started to question her when Hermione chose that exact moment to storm past them. Later on Harry wouldn't remember if he had even said a word to Ginny at the time; he just took off in the direction that his best friend had gone at once.

He had been determined to get her to stand still and talk to him, if only for a moment. He was even prepared to petrify Hermione if it came to it. With determined strides he had followed her out into the hall. He had called out her name once, twice, but she acted as though she hadn't heard him. When she went to pick up her pace, he did as well. That was when she gave up all pretenses and broke into a hasty trot. Harry's surprise at the sudden switch only lasted a second before he was in hot pursuit. In no time he gained on Hermione, her legs being no match for his. But when he went to reach out a hand to seize her by the shoulder, Hermione made a quick and sudden turn into one of the ground floor toilets leaving him standing out in the hallway all alone and emptyhanded.

Cleaver girl.

But Harry hadn't been above waiting her out. She had to come out of the loo eventually, was how he saw it. He posted himself against the wall directly across from the lavatory to await her exit. He'd hoped that she would talk to him once they were away from all of the fuss and bustle of the Hall, that she would finally feel safe to start opening up to him. Although he had already sent Hedwig to get the Harmony Darlington file from his contact in the States, he had yet to tip Hermione to the fact that he knew that she was hiding things from him. For one, he wanted to have solid evidence that she couldn't explain away like she did when they encountered that Yank couple in town; the Beauregards. But mainly he didn't want to give her the impression that he was spying on her, even if he was. Harry wanted her to come to him for help when she felt comfortable doing it. He only prayed that she didn't wait until it was too late. Until then he would continue to surreptitiously gather whatever information he could; he wasn't an Auror for nothing. For the time being he would have been satisfied if she simply stopped with the games, told him why she had been late to the Ball, shared what had her so wound up, and explained why her and Ginny were acting as though they could barely stand to be in the same room with one another, even more so than usual. It was a tall order, he knew.

But he must have stood out in that hall for nearly thirty minutes without seeing a single sign of Hermione emerging from the lavatory. After a while he began to restlessly pace back and forth in front of it. Without warning his head had begun to suddenly throb and he had broke out into a sweat; he figured the fear that someone might mistake him for some perv who got his jollies hanging around girls' toilets had begun to get to him. He had been at his wit's end and he couldn't think straight. But right when Harry had been ready to say the hell with it, march inside, and haul Hermione out of the bathroom himself, Neville's girlfriend walked up and saved him from making an arse of himself. She was even kind enough to not look at him too oddly when he asked her if she could check to see if there was anyone inside the stalls; no one else had gone in for some time and he had been standing alone in the corridor for quite a while by this point. After being told that the bathroom was empty, he thanked Candide profusely and went on his way.

At first Harry honestly couldn't figure out how Hermione had gotten out of that bathroom. His eyes had barely left the doorway, even when acknowledging the few colleagues of his who had passed by. The gaggle of Seventh Year Pottermates who had begged for his autograph hadn't distracted him much. A few of them had left with napkins signed by "Barry Trotter" though. Harry had kept his focus trained straight ahead, never even glancing down for a moment as far as he could recall. Hermione couldn't have given him the slip. It would have been impossible for her to have tip-toed by him without noticing her.

But then he remembered that he was a wizard, that he was intimately acquainted with both a werewolf and a half giant, and that he lived in a magic filled world where virtually anything under the sun was imaginable.

Hermione had without a doubt gotten out of the restroom without him knowing it, he came to realize.

Right away apparition had been ruled out. The last few weeks he had often wondered if she could still Apparate, but for some reason or another he had never fully broached the subject. When Hermione needed to go somewhere she either drove that petrol guzzler that they all jokingly called "Big Ben", or if she needed to get to her destination in a hurry she simply floo'ed. Theoretically Hermione should have still been able to Apparate; it was an innate form of wandless magic that any witch or wizard could perform effortlessly once properly trained. She had been one of the first in their group to master it in school. But regardless if she still remembered the mechanics, Harry knew that it was impossible to Apparate within the walls of Hogwarts. You just don't stay best friends with someone who had read Hogwarts: A History well over 100 times and not remember such a sticky detail, especially one that had been drummed into your head over and over throughout the years. There was no question about it; Hermione wouldn't have been able to Apparate out of that restroom.

But a self-proclaimed former witch with access to a wand could have easily cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself.

Very clever girl.

Hermione was using the wand he gave her! Why was Hermione using the wand that he gave her? And more importantly, just how long had she been using it, he had wondered. Not that Harry hadn't been pleased, he had given her the wand in the first place. But Hermione had been so adamant about not needing spells and charms anymore that the idea that she could have been secretly practicing magic all that time had actually saddened him. He wondered, wasn't there anything that she was being straight about these days? If he did a Priori Incantatem on his mum's old willow just what spells would come out? And just where could she be hiding the damned thing anyhow? She hadn't been carrying a handbag, she had no visible pockets; where on earth could the wand be, down her dress?!

Past images of Hermione slipping her vine wood down the front of a dress or blouse invaded his thoughts. It was a bad habit she had picked up during the war and continued after. Back then he had tried not to think too hard on where she would put it because of, well, where she would put it. But now...

That thought process didn't take very long to get away from him. Like a shot, Harry's mind had been claimed by an obsession that was so intense it almost overpowered him. He had been filled suddenly with a fervent desire to track down Hermione and settle his burning curiosity straightaway. He could be tolerant and wait for her to disclose most of her secrets, but somehow the wand was different. For his own sanity he needed to know if his hunch was correct and that she had been hiding it on her all the while. It overruled all else. He might have his suspicions and doubts to what Hermione was or might be hiding from him, but the wand was one thing he could prove right away. It was the principle of the matter, or so he had told himself.

Of course the fun of trying to locate the precious willow would have been only a side benefit.

Figuring that Hermione would probably try to avoid the Great Hall, Harry had tried to think of just where she might sneak off to hide out for a while. At first his thoughts had turned to the library, but he had dismissed that idea right away. The library would have been where Hermione would have gone if she had wanted to be found. No, she wasn't in the library, he had told himself. Gryffindor Tower? That would have been highly unlikely as well. With school still in session all of the younger children were tucked tight in their dorms. He was positive that Hermione wouldn't have been hiding out there. The Astronomy Tower, perhaps? As soon as that one entered his head Harry had remembered a particularly memorable dream he had once had that centered around Hermione. The fantasy had taken place on the very parapet floor underneath the stars. Well, it wouldn't hurt to just look, he had tried to innocently convince himself.

When he hadn't found her there, Harry hadn't known whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Deciding to take the search outside, Harry had pulled his trusty Firebolt out of his pocket and placed an Engorgement Charm on it. After kicking off from the tower he scanned the grounds looking for her. He hadn't been looking long before he located Hermione standing by the lake staring out moodily across the water. The moonlight off its surface had cast her in an eerie, almost unearthly luminescence and despite the darkness of the night the tears on her cheeks had glistened like trails of silver. The scene had tugged at Harry's heart, especially after realizing just where Hermione was standing. It had been on that very spot, where the grass still refused to grow, that one of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes had been destroyed.

The Ravenclaw relic had been in their possession for weeks. Well technically speaking, DuManoir had been in the castle for that long, holding on to the disguised Pensieve like a lifeline. Hogwarts was deemed the securest place to stash her although there was usually an Order member or two patrolling the grounds whenever they could be spared. Most in the Order didn't know why she was so important to their side, all knowledge of Riddle's Horcruxes was limited to only a select group of people, but many had their suspicions. It was believed that before he died Dumbledore had set Harry on some cloak-and-dagger quest and they figured that the girl somehow tied into it. That was all they needed to know; Harry was Dumbledore's man after all. If the wise old wizard believed in Potter that strongly maybe he truly was The Chosen One.

The prisoners captured at Boussac were mostly lower level Death Eaters and none had much information that was of help to the Order. Those were quickly turned over to the Ministry. The mission's leaders, the Carrows, were believed to have escaped the botched assignment. Macnair had gotten a hold of a wand and killed two Aurors before turning the Killing Curse on himself and taking all he knew to the grave. That left Lestrange. Auror Shacklebolt handled his interrogation personally. Under the influence of Veritaserum, Rodolphus spilled the reason behind them traveling all the way to the French monastery to retrieve DuManoir for their master. Readying himself to ascend to his greatest moment of triumph, Riddle had decided that he would like a pet. Although everyone else had a hard time believing the story Harry knew that it wasn't that farfetched. Dumbledore had once told him just how much Riddle enjoyed collecting his trophies.

After memory wiping the captive, Shacklebolt released Lestrange to his department superiors informing them that the Battle of Boussac had been a bust. The Ministry never learned of Boadicea DuManoir's miraculous reemergence into their world.

From the start it became apparent that some powerful magic had been employed to halt the aging process on the girl; some even believed dark magic was involved. How else to explain the fact that she didn't look a day over seventeen years old? All Madame Pomfrey could deduce was that some enchantment or potion had been used on her, but the old school nurse could tell no more. Several failed revealing spells ruled out the possibility of a glamor. Slughorn was brought in to brew a Retexilaxo serum that could reverse the effects of almost any potion she might have imbibed, but given the amount of time she would have had such a substance in her system, or probably due to its strength, it wasn't really surprising that it didn't work either. After a while it was just decided to leave her be until they could get her to tell them exactly what Riddle had done to her.

That was as easy as pulling teeth from a basilisk. DuManoir no longer spoke English and the only ones who could understand her crazed ramblings were Hermione, Malfoy, McGonagall, and Sinistra, and for a couple of reasons the last three had to be kept at a distance.

Although both women had aged considerably, McGonagall and Sinistra still looked enough like their younger selves that the girl was horrified at their aged appearances. Hermione was the only one who she would let near her, at times Tonks. Professor Sinistra was heartbroken over the rejection.

DuManoir was also wary of most men. For Ron that was no problem. According to him she was creepy and just the sight of her oftentimes blank expression made his skin crawl. Hermione had bawled him out good and proper one morning when he had said just that aloud. DuManoir had still been asleep in the South Tower bedroom she was sharing with Hermione, but it was the Gryffindor girl's belief that they needed to be careful of what came out of their mouths because the frightened girl could understand everything that the four teens said amongst each other. There had been no evidence to back up her theory though.

As usual Malfoy had learned the hard way to stay away from DuManoir. Bragging one night that he could charm the ornament away from her in a snap, the blond had come slinking back down the stairs from the girls' room only a few minutes later sporting two rather impressive black eyes. She was clearly nutters, he had muttered sourly to no one in particular. Ron and Harry had laughed and laughed. Hermione had fumed silently at the lot of them.

The one exception to this rule however was Harry. She didn't fear him. In fact he seemed to hold some queer fascination for the girl. It unsettled him, though at first Harry couldn't put his finger on the reason why. Every now and then, having fallen asleep on the couch in the Common Room, he would awaken to find her cloudy purple eyes staring at him from between the bars of the staircase banister. Or he would be walking down a hallway in the castle and feel the gooseflesh tickle at the back of his neck. Turning around, he would see her form scamper away, wraith-like, into some dimly lit corner to hide.

"She's just confused, is all," Hermione eventually explained to him one night when it was just the two of them alone by the fireplace.

The brunette had taken to DuManoir right from the start and seemed to be the only person who could get through to her. It had been Hermione's idea to have the girl bunk with her; to make the former Head Girl more comfortable, she had said. She took charge of DuManoir almost exclusively making sure the girl ate, slept, and dressed properly; DuManoir became a new project to occupy Hermione's time. Sometimes Harry worried that his friend was becoming too attached, but he figured that in a way they all needed something to distract them from the uncertainty and oppression they constantly lived under. Hermione just wasn't Hermione unless she was worrying after someone. First him and Ron, then Malfoy after his injury, and now DuManoir. Harry would often find the two girls sitting next to each other by the hearth as they conversed together in a language of whispers and simple hand gestures. At times Hermione could even coax a dimpled smile out of her company.

"She knows you're not him. She understands that you can't be him," Hermione told him. "She sees the green eyes, the glasses, the scar..."

Her hand had reached up to tenderly caress his forehead.

"Her mind isn't completely broken you see," she continued on. "Not really. But there isn't one moment that she doesn't look up to see you standing there and for a second think...hope, 'Tom'."

Harry had hated the sound of that. Not just the unwanted comparison to Riddle yet again, but also the idea that DuManoir could still love the fiend after all he had done to her. Harry knew that he could never be that forgiving if someone who claimed to love him betrayed him so heartlessly.

"She's mad!"

Hermione had only shrugged her shoulders at the pronouncement.

"She's in love. Sometimes that's almost as bad."

The four teens knew that they had to get the Pensieve away from DuManoir and figure out some way to destroy it; they just didn't know how to accomplish either feat. Hermione had cautioned the three boys that they had to be gentle with how they approached the girl, but every day they were reminded that they didn't have much time to spare. Although they were all safely ensconced inside Hogwarts, beyond the castle's confines the war raged on fiercely. What the Muggle media was calling terrorist attacks, were in actuality Riddle's attempts to cause mass hysteria among both the magical and non-magical populace. The Order, working independently from the Ministry, was doing their part to preserve as many lives as they could, but they all knew that the war would only end once Harry and Lord Voldemort did battle. Doing away with the Ravenclaw Horcrux would put them one step closer to that day.

Everything came to a head not too long after Bonfire Night. Harry and Ron had set up a friendly game of chess in their tower for after dinner and were battling it out. Malfoy, having nothing better to do and no one to listen to him complain, tried reading out of a book he held with his unbandaged arm while laying sprawled out on the Common Room couch. His other arm was taking longer to heal and rested lamely against his chest wrapped tight inside its dressing. Hermione and DuManoir, having had their usual evening tea, had long retired for the evening. Or so Harry had thought.

"So what happened Sleeping Beauty?" drawled Malfoy indolently from his spot on the couch, "Someone put a pea under your mattress or something?"

Malfoy's archly delivered greeting alerted Harry and Ron to Hermione's presence. As Harry looked up from the board he watched as she cautiously crept down the stairs. Instead of holding on to the handrail, she awkwardly held her arms behind her. Curiously she was still fully dressed despite having supposedly been in bed for over an hour.

"Somehow Malfoy seems just the type to be into fairy tales," said Ron studying the board in front of him and contemplating his next move. "Eh, Harry?"

As he and Ron exchanged brotherly smiles Harry couldn't stop himself from chuckling. When Malfoy threw his book at Ron's head Harry laughed outright. Missing its mark the book bounced against the wall, plopped down on the table knocking over Ron's queen, and sent the irascible little monarch into a tizzy.

"Is it too much to ask for you three to act like adults for a change?" asked Hermione dully, clearly fed to the gills with their ceaseless bickering.

She left the bottom step and approached them. By the way her hands were still concealed from view Harry wondered if she was hiding something behind her.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly as he stood up and met her in the center of the room. "Did we wake you? I thought you said you were tired."

"I...I just said that. I needed Boadicea to follow my lead, drink her tea, and go to bed."

She nervously began to tap her foot. It was like she couldn't keep still. She was a ball of wired energy. She even snuck a quick peek back up the stairs as if making sure no one had followed her down. Harry found her behavior peculiar.

"But why?" he asked.

She was so fidgety that he was beginning to get worried that something terrible had happened. It took a bit of hemming and hawing before Hermione finally put his worries to rest.

"So I could get this."

She held out her two closed fists and opened them, palms turned upwards, for his inspection. Cradled in her hands laid an object that was decked out in tiny jewels and carvings and which looked deceivingly like a fancy hair ornament. But Harry knew better. He was awe-struck by the find.

"Hermione!"

By this time both Ron and Malfoy had ambled over to get a better look at the surprising acquisition. All three boys crowded around her as they looked down at the miniaturized Ravenclaw Pensieve. Ron even reached out to touch it but thought better of it at the last second.

"How did you manage it Hermione? I thought you already tried taking it from her while she was conked out," Ron wondered aloud as he pulled back his hand. "You said she freaked out pretty badly."

"She did. I had a devil of a time convincing her that I was merely adjusting her blankets."

Her overly breezy tone caught Harry's attention. It was a little too forced.

"So then how did you do it?" he worriedly asked.

"Oh isn't it obvious Potter?!" smarmed Malfoy condescendingly. "Granger there drugged that deranged simp."

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them. Although the guilt was plainly evident on Hermione's face, Harry still felt the need to hear it from her.

"Hermione, is that true?"

When she averted her eyes he had his answer.

"What did you give her?" he sharply questioned. It didn't sit well with him that the blond pest had been right. It also bugged the hell out of him that the bastard was probably gloating over the fact.

"Draught of Living Death," she said briskly as she held her head high. She looked directly at him. When Harry's nettled expression morphed into one of disappointment she grew defensive. "Don't look at me that way; I just gave her a half dose. Look, I'm not proud of it, and I know that she's never going to trust me again, but I did what I thought was best. We've reached the point where all of us are going to have to make some tough choices. This was mines," she said resolutely.

She walked towards the table that Harry and Ron had been sitting at and placed the ornament right in the center of the chessboard. It was no bigger than a large fig. All of the miniature moving pieces circled around it in wonder as though it were some fallen idol. One of the little bishops even gave it a sound whacking with his staff before Hermione reprovingly confiscated it from him. She began to carefully put away Ron's chess set as Harry sadly looked on.

"I just wish there had been a better way," he said bleakly.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why Hermione had gone to such drastic measures to get the Pensieve for them; he just wished she would have come to him first before doing it. It almost felt like she was somehow going behind his and Ron's back; like she was keeping them out of the loop. There was also something ignoble about the whole sordid scheme. It wasn't like this was the first time Hermione had stooped to drugging someone to get a desired result, the memory of a couple of laced chocolate cakes she had whipped up extra-special for Crabbe and Goyle during Second Year sprang to mind. But this instance felt a little too sneaky for his tastes, a little too Slytherin-y. Why, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Hermione had gotten the idea from the blond git himself. Not for the first time did he regret the decision of bringing Malfoy into the fold. The bastard was like some bad infection neither potion nor liberal dousing of penicillin could get rid of.

Needless to say the resident snake in the grass found nothing wrong at all with Hermione's underhanded maneuvering. He opened up the gaping head wound he called his mouth and began to spew.

"Oh please! She's the only one of you three that has a decent set of stones on her," said Malfoy crudely, forcing Harry's attention away from the girl.

There was just something about Chosen Wanker's holier-than-thou attitude that rubbed the Slytherin the wrong way. He had no problem telling him as much.

"Granger should be commended for taking some initiative, not belittled. There's no point in trying to make her feel bad about what she did."

Harry seethed silently. If he didn't know that the creep was only trying to score points with Hermione he might have felt as though he were being called on the carpet. And by Malfoy of all people! He held his tongue though. As long as Malfoy continued to act like a neutered pet rodent in front of Hermione, the brunette would defend the bastard to her last breath. It had been that way ever since Malfoy had saved his life in Boussac and Harry couldn't stand it! All the same he tried his best not to mix it up with the Slytherin if the Gryffindor girl was around. The few times he had Hermione had accused him of being ungrateful. Ron however felt no sense of obligation towards the wanker to hold anything back.

"Gee Malfoy, you must be getting really soft in your old age."

Malfoy looked at him impassively.

"Soft? Care to explain Weasel?"

"Your fangs, they're starting to dull Ferret Breath. You must be losing your edge," taunted Ron with unrestrained relish. "You almost sounded sincere there." He folded his arms over his chest and wrinkled his nose. "We all know that can't be right."

Harry smiled to himself. Good old Ron!

Hermione's piercing voice sliced right through the impending Weasley/Malfoy grudge match, nipping it in the bud before it could fully get underway.

"If you all are quite done maybe you three would like to join me over here and....oh, I don't know, thwart Voldemort, foil the dark forces, rid the world of evil or something like that."

Her fearsome expression made the three young wizards shuffle over to where she was standing like well behaved choirboys. Ron took his place next to his girlfriend on one side of the table while Harry and Malfoy stood across from them. As soon as he reached the table Harry saw what Hermione had been up to while the rest of them had been otherwise occupied. The chess set was gone and so was the ornament. In its place was a pewter-like basin that had unusual stones, peculiar markings, and funny looking runes, all completely unfamiliar to Harry, etched into its curved rim. In many ways it looked nothing like Dumbledore's old Pensieve. It was fancier; more feminine for lack of a better word. What Harry found most remarkable however was the silvery contents that swirled inside of it. Now that, that was familiar to him.

"It looks like light made liquid," murmured Ron.

"More like wind made solid," Malfoy doggedly insisted.

"It's a memory," stated Harry plainly.

Neither of them contradicted him.

"So this is it, Ravenclaw's Pensieve?" asked the Slytherin bending forward over the table while studying the relic with marked interest. Although the senior Malfoy had once owned a rather flashy one that he kept for the sole purpose of showing off to company, he had never allowed his son near it for fear the boy would ultimately ruin it. This was actually the first time that Malfoy had been close enough to a Pensieve to actually touch it. And did he ever want to touch it! Its whirling, bottomless depths called out to him it seemed.

Ron, who had also been fighting a similar compulsion, said harmlessly, "It doesn't look like it's filled with evil."

At his best mate's remark Harry looked up and tossed Malfoy a loaded glance.

"Some things rarely do."

Hermione huffed in aggravation while Malfoy stood up straight and looked at Harry hatefully.

"So what are we thinking," cut in Ron as he pulled his wand out of his pants pocket. "A Dissendium, a little Incendio perhaps?"

Focusing back on the matter at hand, Harry followed his lead. "I'm feeling quite partial to a Reductor, myself." He held his wand aloft.

"Ah, a fine choice if I might say," said Ron lightly. "I think I'll be going with a good old fashion Blasting Curse. It might be simple, but gets the job done."

Harry snickered. "Then let's do this."

"Let's. On the count of three."

Harry extended his firing arm and took careful aim at the Pensieve sitting before him.

"One..."

Ron pointed his wand as Harry continued the count down.

"Two..."

Blue eyes sought out the green ones across from him and awaited the signal.

"Thr―"

"WAIT!"

Hermione seized the Pensieve and ran towards the other side of the room with it. The unexpected move took all of the boys by surprise. Malfoy, Ron, and Harry whirled around to look at the girl as though she were some sideshow attraction. She in turn stared back at them defiantly. She held the relic to her bosom like a mama griffin protecting its young.

"Um...Hermione, luv, you're acting all mental again. Be a good girl and bring that back here, would you."

Harry cringed. He knew straightaway that Ron had stepped in it, and by the looks of her molten face, Hermione wasn't about to let him get off easy.

"You listen here Ronald Weasley, you have no right to try and boss me around!" she yelled. "I'm the one who discovered that Boadicea existed. And I'm the one who got the Pensieve! I'm not some little Quidditch groupie you can just push to the side whenever you feel like it. I am a vital part of this team, just as much as you are and don't you ever forget that!"

Ron was taken aback by the onrush.

"S-s-sorry Hermione," he stammered as he put his wand away. As an aside he mumbled, "Blimey, I can't say a thing these days without setting her off."

Malfoy sniggered to himself.

Hermione eased down onto the bottom step of the staircase as she fastidiously began to plead her case.

"Look, you two can go and blow this Pensieve to Kingdom come if you like, but I think we just might be making a mistake," she said, trying to explain her strange behavior. "I mean, this is history that we'd be destroying. The Society for Preserving Artifacts of Mythos hasn't had a find like this in ages!"

Malfoy chortled meanly.

"That's because those pansies at SPAM couldn't find their own arses if you handed it to them."

They all ignored him. As Harry brushed past the blond idiot he said, "Hermione, it's a Horcrux. Horcrux bad, remember?"

"But what if it isn't Harry?" she asked as she stood up. "What if we are wrong?"

"But we know that it is!" he replied. "The genealogist that McGonagall contacted was able to confirm that DuManoir is a direct descendant of the Ravenclaw line. All evidence points to the Pensieve once belonging to the Founder. What more do we need? The Pensieve has to be a Horcrux! And what's more, we destroy Horcruxes. So what am I missing?"

"I just...it just seems a bit obvious, doesn't it?" Hermione brought the Pensieve back to the table and sat it down. "Blasting things to bits is all a little too easy if you ask me. Plus where is the sacrifice in that? Remember, there has to be a sacrifice," she reminded them.

Ron's freckled face frowned as he asked, "What have you got against easy?"

"Nothing. I just don't like lazy. I think we owe it to ourselves to see every possible avenue through."

Harry had to admit that what she said made a hell of a lot of sense.

"So what do you suggest we do then?" he asked.

"Well...uh, I have an idea. Let's call it an experiment. Mind you it is a bit out there."

Harry stepped closer to her. "We're listening."

With a shy smile Hermione proceeded to lay out her plan.

"So I was thinking, so little is really known about Rowena Ravenclaw. I mean, sure there are dozens upon dozens of biographies, but sometimes you don't get the whole story from a book."

"Now that's the second time I've heard her insult a book," said Ron as he reached over to feel her head. "I think you might be running a temperat―OW! THAT HURT HERMIONE!"

She had delivered a swift rap to his hand. Ron cradled the injured appendage to his chest while Hermione paid his bruised hand little heed. His bruised ego got the shaft as well.

"We now have a chance, an opportunity if you will, to get some information first hand," she continued. "We have a chance to look through Rowena Ravenclaw's eyes. We have a chance to see history being made."

"You think we should go into Ravenclaw's Pensieve, don't you?" came Harry's response.

"Just think Harry, therein lies her final memories. We could see it. If the Pensieve isn't really the Horcrux we might even find a clue to what we really should be looking for."

"And what if all we find is old Rowena making out her apothecary shopping list?" he countered. "There's no guarantee that we'll find anything of use in there Hermione. Dumbledore used his to store excess memories. Snape used it to hide what he didn't want me to see. Who knows, maybe all Rowena put in hers were the things she'd rather forget."

"It can't hurt to try, can it?" she asked with hope burning bright in her eyes.

In the face of such optimism Harry began to feel his resolve weaken. Matter of fact, he tumbled like a stacked deck of Exploding Snap cards. He couldn't help but give in and in the end he decided that maybe Hermione was on to something. Had she ever led him wrong?

"No, it can't," he said with a smile. "You're right. Let's do it."

She stared at him for a moment, almost shocked into speechlessness.

"Really?!" she asked with some wavering.

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah! Brilliant idea there Hermione. I―oof!"

She practically tackled his midsection in a back breaking hug.

"Thank you Harry! Thank you so much! You won't regret this, I promise!"

Harry's arms wrapped around her as he gently patted her back. He even dropped a small kiss on her head to seal the deal. He felt his heart swell with some fuzzy emotion that warmed him from the insides. If given the time he might have placed it, but the sound of someone clearing their throat spoiled his concentration. Harry looked up in time to see his best friend's inscrutable face before him. His other best friend, that is.

Harry quickly let go of Hermione.

"So what are we doing then?" asked Ron tersely.

"We're going in," Harry bluntly said. "You, me, and Hermi―"

Harry paused in mid-thought as his green eyes flew to the top of the stairs. Although Hermione had extinguished most of the lights on the first floor earlier to complete her ruse, Harry still leaned forward as if to peer into the shadowed darkness of the landing.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at their dark haired friend with concern.

Hermione took one of his hands in hers and asked, "Harry what's wrong?"

The contact brought him back to them. He turned to face her.

"I thought I just saw..."

Harry's forehead slowly creased. He paused, thinking hard on what exactly he had seen, then gnashed his teeth in frustration when nothing came to him. He quickly looked back to the stairs, eyes having finally adjusted to the lack of light, and saw nothing there.

Maybe he just needed to clean his glasses.

"Never mind," said Harry shaking his head. "It was nothing. Back to the Pensieve," he said as he tried to get them all back on course. "We'll go in, see if we find anything that might be of some use and if not..."

"Bye, bye Pensieve," finished Ron.

Harry smiled at his best mate. "Exactly."

"Anyone mind telling me what I'll be doing while you three are out enjoying Ravenclaw: The Early Years?" asked Malfoy snidely. Harry had almost forgotten the pest was still in the room.

"Well I would suggest you just DIE already, but we both know that you're shite at following directions," came Ron's mean-spirited response.

"You'll stay here and watch our guest," Harry answered simply before Malfoy and Ron could get going.

Malfoy balked at the order.

"You're leaving me with her?!" He motioned up the stairs. "She's worse than that Lovegood kook! No way am I staying here with her, she's completely hatstand! If all of you go, I'm going too!" he petulantly whinged.

Harry had started to tell him just where he could go when Hermione stopped him.

"If we don't he'll never shut up about it," she advised him.

Harry reluctantly agreed. They had already wasted enough time. It was time for some action.

"Fine!"

"So we really are going to do this?" asked Ron tensely, glancing from Harry to the bowl in trepidation.

"We are. I'll go first. Ron, you and Hermione follow right after. Then you Malfoy; understand?"

Harry turned around to face the bowl. The other three teenagers followed suit and surrounded the table; Ron and Hermione on either side of him. They all gazed down into the silvery depths of the memory before them and contemplated the enormity of what they were about to do. Malfoy nervously coughed.

"What's with you?" Hermione asked him.

"I've...well if you must know," he began stiffly, "I've never done this before. It won't hurt or anything, will it?"

His scowling face did little to hide his apprehension.

"Don't worry; Harry is an old hand at this," she told him reassuringly while turning towards Harry. The admiration with which she looked up at him gave Harry all the confidence he needed.

"Well, here we go then," he said as he lowered his face to the ebbing and undulating surface inside the Pensieve. "Hang on."

∞∞∞ ∞∞∞ ∞∞∞

The first thing Harry noticed after exiting the cold black nothingness that he had grown accustomed to was that his grim, depressing surroundings were familiar. The mildewed stone floor his face was squashed into was easily recognizable. He knew that he was still in the castle, one of the toilets, from what he could tell. The second thing that caught his attention was the throbbing ache in his neck.

"Ron?"

"Yeah mate?"

"If you don't mind, you're sitting on my head."

The redhead jumped off of Harry and hurriedly helped his friend to his feet.

"Sorry Harry."

As Harry stood up, working his neck from side to side to get the kink out, he found that he and Ron had landed in a restroom stall together. He also found that Hermione was missing.

With rising alarm he called out, "Where's Hermione?!"

A phantom voice in the stall next door to him responded at once.

"On top of me," it croaked.

The crass statement was then followed by a scuffling sound and an enraged howl of pain.

"FUCK!"

Harry opened the door in time to see Malfoy sail clean across the dimly lit room and bang into the sink facing the end toilet he had just been thrown out of. He crumpled to the floor.

"Be mindful of where you put that hand!" shouted Hermione as she emerged from where the git had just been, wand pointed straight ahead. "Or next time I'll personally make you the last of your line Draco Malfoy!"

Always beaten but never bowed, Malfoy jumped up and threateningly pointed a finger at the girl.

"All I know Granger is that when I do a careful accounting later all my bits better be where I last left them!"

"SHUT UP MALFOY!" yelled Harry and Ron as they both exited their compact compartment.

Hermione conspicuously said nothing.

Both boys turned on her as though she had committed some treasonable offense.

"HERMIONE?!" they exclaimed in disbelief.

The girl looked up from wiping the imaginary muck off of her jumper and gave them both a perplexed look.

"What?" she asked, oblivious to what her crime could be.

When Ron and Harry continued to stare at her as though she were some pod person she became indignant.

"Ooh stop being so stupid!" she yelled then paused as she looked between the sink in front of her and the toilet in back. "Why are we in the girls' loo?"

Harry slowly turned around and took in his environs. He came to a halt as he faced the door.

"I'm not sure," he said, eyes glued to the ceiling, "but if I were to wager a guess I would say that this is not Rowena Ravenclaw's memory. I'm pretty confident that they didn't have indoor plumbing in the medieval ages. Also she wouldn't be here," he said directing their attention up towards the translucent bespeckled girl hovering idly near the exit.

Ron staggered back at the sight of her. "MYRTLE?!"

All four teens gawked at the spirit known to them all as Moaning Myrtle. The ghost didn't acknowledge them whatsoever. She floated on her back laxly as she quietly sang to herself in a watery, warbling voice.

"Yesterday upon the stair

I met a man who wasn't there

He wasn't there again today

I wish, I wish he'd go away..."

Over and over again she repeated the meaningless rhyme.

"Whose memory do you think this is Harry?" asked Hermione as she came up beside him. She was dumbfounded by Moaning Myrtle's presence.

"I don't know, but we're about to find out," he said as he looked back at the row of chipped sinks. He walked over to the one nearest the wall and studied it closely. As he expected he found the tiny snake scratched into one of the pipes. "I think I hear something coming," he said casually despite the funny feeling that he knew exactly what was heading their way.

Unfortunately his calmly spoken words had an adverse effect on Malfoy. They freaked him out.

"SHITE! HIDE!" he shouted as he somehow shoved Hermione, Ron, and Harry into the end toilet, slamming the door behind him and locking it. The tiny space was so cramped that Ron was relegated to standing on the seat of the bowl to fit. Harry somehow ended up crushed into the side wall while Hermione and Malfoy's limbs flailed all over the place. Harry was not a happy camper.

"You know Malfoy, the memories, they can't hear us. We're not really here," Harry gritted out from between clenched teeth.

"Oh....right. I...uh...forgot," the blond mumbled humbly.

Ron growled in annoyance.

"Ponce!" he shouted down at the idiot.

"Arseface!" Malfoy yelled back at him.

"Limp di―"

"Knock it off!" shrieked Hermione calling them off.

The two boys continued to glare, but obeyed her. The ensuing ceasefire provided just enough quiet for them to hear Myrtle trilling on. They were also able to hear the padding of hard soled shoes across the stone floor. Harry looked down and watched as a faint shadow drifted by each stall and came to a halt in front of theirs.

"...I met a man who wasn't there

He wasn't there again today..."

"Do you hear that?" asked Hermione as a hushed, sibilant sound began to fill Harry's ears, mind...waking nightmares. "It sounds like―"

"Parseltongue," came his dull-toned response as he pushed his way to the door. Brilliant white light poured over and under it.

"I wish, I wish he'd go away..."

Harry's response seemed to make the tension in the crowded toilet ratchet into high gear. He could feel Malfoy's shallow breathing on his neck. The sound of Ron grinding his teeth together was like sandpaper being rubbed across his raw nerves. Hermione trembled against him like a terrorized child awaiting the boogeyman outside the door.

"What's it saying Harry?" her small, quivering voice whispered.

With little emotion, Harry answered her.

"'Open for the Heir of Slytherin'."

It was a testament to the insanity of the nail-biting scene that someone as knowledgeable as Hermione could lose her head so easily. Ron and Malfoy forgot that no one could see or hear them as well. Harry had to admit that even he was ruffled a bit by the experience. He didn't know what he had expected to find in Ravenclaw's Pensieve, but this wasn't it.

Trying to maintain his composure, Harry decided to put on his game face. He was supposed to be their leader; it was time for him to lead. He needed to show them that there was nothing to fear.

Not bothering to lower his voice he said, "Someone is trying to open the Chamber of Secrets. Three guesses who and the first two don't count."

He placed his hand on the sliding lock of the door and prepared to pull it back.

"Who is here?" asked a cunningly sly voice that punctuated each word. Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy weren't familiar with it. Harry was.

His hand jerked away from the lock as if a bolt of electricity had been dispatched through him. Had...had they been heard? How could they have been heard?!

Outside the stalls Myrtle paused long enough to dourly say, "I am, as if you cared."

She then continued her "singing".

"...I met a man who wasn't there..."

"I wasn't talking to you Mayhugh," the intruder said rudely. "Go bother Hornby and get out!"

"He wasn't there again today

I wish, I wish he'd go away..."

"LEAVE!" ordered the voice imperiously.

Bursting into a rattling, anguished sob, Myrtle flung herself all the way inside the stall the four teens were hiding in and threw herself into the toilet headfirst. Water splashed up everywhere causing Hermione to scream at the unexpected action. Ron swore loudly as his foot slipped and went into the bowl.

All went still then. Malfoy had slapped a hand across Hermione's mouth to quiet her and Ron had swallowed back the rest of his angry curses. They all had lost their minds. Harry had even begun to believe that the person on the other side of the door knew that they were huddled there. Common sense had done a runner.

"Come on, don't be so shy," the cajoling voice called out to them. The silver-tongued tone was strangely compelling, yet awful to the ear. There was an unsated hunger underneath it. "I know someone is in here. I can hear you. I can smell you," it said. "You're dripping in fear. You stink of it. Do you know who you are dealing with? Do you even know who I am?"

Harry angled his head to peek through the crack of the door. All he could see was the swishing of black school robes and the glint of what he thought might be a Prefect or Head's badge. As the intruder moved out of the way Harry saw the exposed pipe that led into the Chamber. When he looked up into the cracked mirror over the sinks all he could see was a splintered image of the person walking over to the very first stall before heading down the line. Theirs would be the last. Tonelessly the voice began to recite Myrtle's rhyme.

"Yesterday upon the stairs..."

Ron began to hiccough hysterically. He did his best to surpress them.

"I met a man who wasn't there..."

Hermione's nails dug into the thin material of Harry's jumper and sank into his skin.

"He wasn't there again today..."

Harry closed his eyes, wishing only that this was all just some bad dream.

*BOOM*

Harry, Hermione, Malfoy, and Ron jolted backwards, pressing themselves as far away as they could get, as the wood panel in front of them was blasted off its hinges. They clung to one another mindlessly in their fright.

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Their screams of terror were cut short by the sound of the door banging to the ground. All four sets of eyes stared out at the tall young man standing in the doorway.

Tom Riddle blankly stared back at them.

It was the Riddle that Harry first encountered when he was a Second Year. This Riddle was just a couple of years older and thinner than Harry remembered. His cheeks had already begun to become sunken giving him a deathly serious countenance, but as Harry recalled, it did not detract from his good looks. There was however something unnatural about his appearance. Harry likened it to meeting a mannequin that could walk and talk and looked just like you. But you never forgot that you were looking at a mannequin no matter how good it was at pretending to be human.

Cocking his head, Riddle furrowed his brow as his eyes remained devoid of any reaction. The dark pupils scanned back and forth but nothing seemed to leave an imprint on him. His wand remained pointed outward but had no target.

"Either that blind sonofabitch can't see us," muttered Ron, "or he has no clue that we're even here to begin with."

Harry had started to agree when the sound of squeaking hinges stilled his tongue. Riddle stepped back from their doorway and looked off to his right. He walked away from them without even glancing back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked someone impersonally.

The four teenagers looked between them in confusion. Who could he be talking to?

The question was answered shortly when a soft-spoken voice responded.

"I was looking for you Tom."

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy silently filed out of their hiding place and discovered the owner of the second voice. DuManoir stood outside the first toilet where she had apparently been concealed during the whole ordeal. Dressed in her crisp white shirt, her yellow and black tie, and her standard issue black robes with the Head Girl badge proudly pinned and displayed on it, the girl was visibly different from the one they had just left alone in the South Tower. It was the eyes that gave it away. Instead of scarily vacant, her purple eyes were filled with worry as she stared at Riddle.

"You found me," said the Head Boy as he walked over to DuManoir and ran his fingers down the side of her face. "Didn't I tell you never to come in here? Mayhugh learned the hard way the price of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Don't you know I care about you? I would just hate it if anything ever happened to you."

He had all of the warmth of a brown recluse. The way he brushed a lock of long black hair behind her ear sickened Harry. Knowing what the monster would eventually do to the girl, his stomach churned with revulsion.

"Come along. Now," Riddle commanded as he turned towards the entrance to the Chamber fully expecting her to trail behind him without objection. She did not disappoint.

"So that's the boy who would be Voldemort," said an awed Hermione as she watched Riddle with fascination. "He looks so...so..."

"Normal," provided Ron.

With the lines of his face set grimly Harry shook his head.

"He was never normal."

Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy then turned to him to see what their next move would be. Riddle and DuManoir had already disappeared from sight and the entrance was closing. But Harry didn't want to follow after them. The choice however was taken out of his hands in the next second when the world dropped out from under him. The bathroom dissolved away as if it had been only a mirage. He could hear the muted sound of Hermione calling his name but he couldn't find her. He couldn't even see his own hands in front of him. There was nothing but darkness...

And then everything came into focus again. He was laid out on a hard floor, feeling as though he had just been put through the spin cycle. Myrtle's bathroom was gone, replaced with the one place in the world Harry had hoped never to see again.

"RONNIE?! RONNIE?!"

Hermione's frightened voice cut through Harry's consciousness. As he sat up he looked over to find her and Ron huddled together behind him. The dumbstruck look on Ron's face told Harry that he knew exactly where they were as well. He was almost as green as the gloom that hung over them. Hermione kept looking to Harry for some explanation for Ron's near catatonia, but he gave her none. He found Malfoy standing right next to them. The monkey faced statue of Salazar Slytherin against the back wall had him transfixed. The young blond wizard reverently gazed up at it, ensnared by its sheer grandeur.

"This is the Chamber of Secrets, isn't it?" he asked solemnly. It was the way a person would speak when walking on hallowed ground.

Harry saw no reason to answer a question that the arse damn well knew the answer to. So he didn't. For the time being he also chose to look away from the young lovers that sat on Slytherin's enormous left foot. He was feeling discouraged. And crabby. He had let Hermione talk him into this wild goose chase, had been scared nearly witless(literally), and instead of catching a glimpse of the revered Founder's memories he had been subjected to one from Tom Riddle. This whole experiment had been a waste of time!

Then again, how could they have been seeing one of Riddle's memories if they were already standing in the lavatory when the future dark lord walked in, Harry wondered.

Before he could think on it further he caught the shape of some shadowy form scuttle past the dimly lit exit that led out of the main chamber. It was too big to be a rat, far too small to be the basilisk. Harry whipped his glasses from his face and blinked into the looming darkness.

"Are you going to tell me why you were spying on me, dear heart?"

Tom Riddle's flat, emotionless voice ended up pulling Harry's attention back to him.

With her head bowed as though awaiting some form of punishment, DuManoir mumbled, "Professor Dumbledore came up to see us. 'E wished to speak to ze 'ead Girl and Boy. I told 'im zat you were not feeling well and 'ad gone to bed."

"What did the old conjurer want?"

He began to play with her hair.

"'E wanted to notify us zat Saturday's 'ogsmeade visit 'as been canceled," DuManoir told him.

"Oh?"

"Oiu. All of ze 'eads of 'ouse 'ave been informed. Someone was killed in ze village. Monsieur Gingold was found dead in 'is store zis evening."

A slick smirk creased Riddle's face. "How sad."

"You said you were going to see 'im today, non?" DuManoir asked carefully. "You said you were going into town during your free period to Gingold's Gallery. Did you Tom?"

He slowly nodded. "I did. The peddler even closed his curiosity shoppe for me after some...persuading. And do you know what happened?"

DuManoir shook her head.

Riddle reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the jeweled hair ornament.

"He confirmed what I already knew," he said in an exaggerated honeyed voice as he affixed the transfigured Pensieve into her hair. He pulled back his hand to admire his handiwork. "Your family heirloom is priceless my dear. It once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. You're special."

"Does zat mean...am I good enough for you now Tom?" she anticipatively asked. Her eyes shined bright with worship as she smiled.

"Not quite. But soon. Soon." Riddle patted her head and stood up. DuManoir grabbed for one of his hands to stop him from walking away.

"Tom, did you...you did not do something to Monsieur Gingold, did you?" she hesitantly asked.

Riddle's facile smile hardened.

"Why would you ask a thing like that?"

Despite the warning signs that she should stop, DuManoir continued on.

"You were probably ze last person to see 'im alive."

Riddle grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her up to her feet.

"Did you tell your precious Dumbledore that?! Did you?!"

Riddle's well maintained mask had fallen revealing the sleeping demon inside him. His face was contorted with outrage. The girl should have broken apart from the force with which he shook her. Her head snapped back and forth violently. The fear that it would come off if he kept at it surfaced in Harry's head until the fiend finally stopped.

"NO! No Tom! Je t'aime! Je t'aime! I would never betray you! NEVER!" she pitifully swore as she stumbled back from him.

"I did what I had to do!" proclaimed Riddle. "Gingold threatened to tell everyone about the Pensieve. He said he wanted to write papers about it; take it to museums. Then everyone would find out just how important you are. I couldn't let that happen. It would spoil all of my plans."

"What plans?" she asked.

The question caught him off guard. A blank look passed across his face before being replaced by a deceptively charming smile.

"For us. All of my plans for us," he told her as he pinched one of her cherubic cheeks.

"Us? Oh Tom!" she blissfully cried as she circled her arms around him and squeezed.

Riddle looked like he could barely stomach her touch. He weakly laid a hand on her back.

"'Ow can I prove to you just 'ow much I love you?" she asked as she snuggled closer to the Head Boy. "I only want to make you 'appy Tom. Eet is what I was born for."

The heartfelt admittance seemed to overwhelm Riddle. It was like he didn't know how to handle the unconditional love that the girl so blindly offered, didn't know what to do with it. His arms went around her unwillingly it seemed. DuManoir sunk further into the embrace.

"I'm scared Tom. Ever since you...you...'urt Myrtle you just 'ave not been ze same. But I know zat eet was not your fault; an accident. I'm scared for you. I'm scared for what you might become," she said.

Riddle's arms slowly lowered from her.

In a crisp tone he asked, "And what might that be?"

DuManoir knew right away that she had said the wrong thing.

"I...I do not know," she stammered trying to recover. She cupped his chin lovingly. "But if you will let me, I will save you. We can both go to Professor Dumbledore and―"

"Dumbledore?!"

"Or...or...ze 'eadmaster and tell 'im―"

Riddle wrapped his two hands around DuManoir's delicate neck and began to squeeze. Harry, Ron, and surprisingly enough Malfoy all seemed to come to attention at the sight of the appalling abuse. The three young wizards looked on at the scene helplessly knowing that there wasn't a thing they could do about it. Hermione just stared at Riddle and DuManoir with a look of dawning horror on her face.

"Tell him what?" asked Riddle forebodingly.

DuManoir clawed at his hands to free her.

"You're 'urting me," she struggled to say.

He gave her a good shake.

"Tell him what?" he asked once again. His eyes glowed sinisterly as he tightened his grip. She began to beat at his arms and face as she fought for air. "Just what have you been telling dear Dumbledore?"

"Nothing!"

"Just what do you tell him? Do you tell him all of my secrets?"

"I can't breathe Tom!" she cried weakly.

"Do you lie on your back for him like the dirty little whore that you are? Do you open your legs for him? While the two of you are rutting, just what sweet nothings do you whisper in his ears? Do you tell him about me? Do you? Do You?!"

The robotic way in which his inflectionless voice never went up, nor down made the scene that much more horrific.

When he removed his fingers from her throat she seemed to just collapse to the ground, wheezing and gasping for air. Harry could see the fingerprints stamped into her pale white skin. He thought he would lose his gorge when the miserable creature clutched at the hem of his pants leg. The sick fuck just shook her off.

"Know your place," he told her.

Still trying to fill air into her lungs, DuManoir deflated into a pathetic heap and began to cry.

"I love you so much Tom," she tearfully said. Her voice sounded feeble and waterlogged. "I would do anything for you. Anything!" she insisted. "Why do you not believe me? What can I do to make you believe me?"

She rose to her knees and lifted her purple eyes to look at him.

"Dans tes bras c'est mon destin. Don't you know I belong to you?"

A pleased look seemed to smooth the features of Riddle's face.

"Yes," he began. "Yes you do, oh Daughter of Rowena. On that we can agree." He leaned forward and petted her. "I told you that you were special, didn't I? Soon I'm going to make you into something that defies all words. I'm going to bestow a great and powerful honor upon you."

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop.

Oh no...Merlin please, no...

"Really? Pour moi?" DuManoir asked adoringly. She stood up.

Riddle nodded his head.

"You are going to have a piece of me forever. Doesn't that sound nice?"

An anguished scream tore from Hermione's throat.

DuManoir wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. She pressed her face into his chest.

"Oh I love you so much Tom!"

Riddle's falsely benevolent smile warped into something truly terrible to behold. Unfortunately for DuManoir, she would never get to see it.

"Show me."

DuManoir stood back from him and obediently sunk to her knees.

At the sound of a zipper being pulled down, Hermione scrambled over to Harry and grabbed at him frantically.

"Make it stop Harry! We've seen enough. MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!"

"I'm not sure how to. I don't know how..." he had begun to say when the room began to fade away again. With Hermione holding on to him they seemed to rise out of the abyss of the Chamber.

The next thing Harry knew they were all back in the South Tower of Hogwarts once more. He opened his eyes to find Hermione crying onto his chest as he held her. They were sitting on the Common Room couch. For a second Harry thought that they had just entered another memory, Riddle and DuManoir had lived here once during their final year at Hogwarts, but the sight of the book Malfoy had been reading out of before their adventure had begun settled his fears.

"Is it just me," began Ron who was sitting in the same chair that he had been playing chess in earlier, "or does anyone else here think that the Pensieve isn't what we've been looking for all of this time?" He looked wiped. He leaned against the stone wall and stared listlessly at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione began to sniffle.

"Oh well spotted Wesley, bravo. It's good to see that you've caught up with the rest of the class," Malfoy sniped from the chair across from the redhead. The Pensieve sat innocuously between the two wizards.

"Fuck you Malfoy!" barked Ron.

Malfoy gave him the finger. The Pureblood had been picking up such lovely Muggle habits since taking up with them.

Ron tried to explain himself. "I mean who would have thought that a person could be a Horcrux?"

Harry felt Hermione's whole body become rigid. She looked up at him with such heartbreaking intensity, then looked away. She pulled out of his hold and scooted over to the far side of the couch.

"Ron, what's your point?" Harry asked impatiently turning back to him.

Ron's freckled face frowned.

"Dunno. Guess I'm just trying to make conversation.

"Well don't," snapped Harry. He didn't like how upset Hermione was getting. Ron however just wouldn't give it up.

"So um...what do we do now? I mean, about the Horcrux. What do we do?" Ron asked fretfully as he looked at the two people who usually had all of the answers.

If he hadn't been so heartsick Harry probably would have laughed at the expectant expression on his friend's face. Truth was he had no answers to give. None that he wanted to talk about at the moment.

Naturally Malfoy would be the one to push the issue.

"Oh I think it's quite obvious to everyone in this room just what has to be done with the Ravenclaw Horcrux," he sneeringly said.

He looked from face to face saving Harry's for last.

"We get rid of it."

Harry hadn't needed to alert Hermione to his presence when he finally flew down to her; it was like she instinctually knew that he was there. She just turned her tear streaked face towards him and watched silently as he landed his broom and approached her. No words were spoken, he just opened his arms and she walked into his embrace. Any questions about wands and what have you were shelved for the time being. All he thought of was comforting his friend. The lake had obviously brought back some painful memories. He simply turned her away from the water and they made the long trek back up to the castle in silence.

When they reached the doors near the courtyard they ran into Lavender. She walked with them back to the Entrance Hall where they eventually met up with Ron, Charlie, George, and their two dates; Bernadette and Pristine. Lavender had excused herself to the loo when the three brothers began to complain about the watered down drinks they had been knocking back all night. According to Ron's questionable accounting he had swilled at least eight glasses of champagne that evening and wasn't nearly as pissed as he would like to be. At the time Harry had been tentatively broaching the subject of Apparating Hermione home since Luna and Draco were nowhere to be seen, but when Ron opened up his big mouth he ended up spoiling all of Harry's prospects. Ron was bored with the Ball and wanted to go whoop it up somewhere else. He wasn't ready to call it a night yet. Charlie and George (both only slightly as buzzed as their brother) had agreed, as did Glinda and Fred when they finally sauntered up together. Hannah and Ernie, who had been passing by, overheard the conversation and suggested that they move the festivities over to their pub and close it for a private get together. The Weasleys had all thought it was a capital idea. Although Harry had been hoping that Hermione would beg off so he could take her home, she instead seemed receptive to the whole thing. Dismayed at being thwarted yet again, Harry had ended up reluctantly agreeing along with everyone else.

In all, nearly fifty or so of their "closest" friends had stumbled their way drunkenly in the dark towards The Three Broomsticks for a V-Ball after party. Once there, almost all of the late night revelers commenced to getting rat-arsed drunk for the next couple of hours. Harry chose instead to deposit himself into a booth in the back and there he had remained for the rest of the night.

"So your wife Zabini..."

"Amparo," the wizard said as he tilted his head back and sneered at Harry haughtily. Zabini probably figured that the nauseating way he looked down his nose while flaring his nostrils out at people was intimidating and lordly. In Harry's opinion it made the prat share a rather unflattering resemblance with a Komodo dragon.

"Amparo, yes, um...she went to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to make polite conversation. Well, if one wanted to be technical about it, he was fishing.

"No actually. Amparo attended an all girls' boarding school in Nova Scotia. They all read Sappho for kicks and diddled each other in the dark after lights out," he answered with a infuriatingly straight face. "Why are you so curious to know Auror Potter?"

Harry forced himself not to swear at him. Merlin was Zabini a humorless twat! But Harry swallowed his irritation and tried to be civil.

"I was just wondering how Hermione knew her is all," he answered truthfully.

Zabini raised his glass to his mouth and took a painfully long pause to drink the rest of his cordial down. Harry was sure that the bastard was just drawing out the action as long as he could to purposely wind him up.

"Well, from what I've been able to ascertain, my wife made your dear little Granger's acquaintance only yesterday in Diagon," he finally said after placing his glass back on the table.

This was news to Harry. He sat up straight in his seat as he leaned forward.

"Hermione was in Diagon Alley yesterday?" he asked, brow furrowed. She hadn't told him that she had plans to do any of her shopping there.

"Yes, her and that hellcat the Weasley twin married. The vulgar woman made the introductions."

"Glinda you mean?"

Harry didn't particularly care for how Zabini spoke of Glinda. Sure she could be a bit...brash, maybe even slightly obnoxious at times, but she was still family. Besides Glinda was rather fun to have around for a few laughs as long as that acerbic wit and tart tongue of hers wasn't turned against you. But Glinda was a Muggle so it wasn't all that surprising that Zabini would look down his nose on her, pure blooded snot that he was.

"Oh, is that her name?" the Slytherin disdainfully asked. "I just know she's wrapped up in the POWW alongside Amparo."

For a second Harry didn't quite make the connection. In his work with the Cadmus case he had become quite familiar with the Muggle support group as well as some of its smaller offshoots, but what the POWW had to do with Zabini's wife was beyond his―

"WAIT!" shouted Harry as comprehension suddenly hit him like a brick to the head. "YOUR WIFE'S A MUGGLE?!"

Unfairly taking Harry's shock as disparagement, Zabini's eyes nearly turned into slits as he glowered at him.

"Merlin, you are sharp Auror Potter. Can't get anything past you, now can we?"

The dig rolled off of Harry's back. In truth he was still too shocked by the revelation to be bothered with it. Blaise Zabini was married to a Muggle?! Just how in the hell did that happen?!

Swallowing his surprise, Harry decided to probe further.

"So in other words Hermione and Amparo have only just met then? They never knew each other before yesterday."

Harry's eyes strayed towards the two women again. For strangers that had just been introduced they were acting awfully chummy.

Zabini stiffly nodded.

"Correct, though they seem to have become fast friends already. Amparo even met your dear little Granger in town for lunch today. Of course she called it a working lunch but―"

"Working lunch?" Now that caught Harry's attention.

"Amparo is a solicitor," explained Zabini, a genuine smile forming on his face for the first time since he had sat down. He looked towards his wife. "A highly paid one, at that. She charges through the teeth for everything," he added with more than a hint of pride.

Having caught his wife's eye across the room, Amparo slyly winked at her husband and waggled her fingers at him. The spouses shared a private look with one another before Hermione said something that drew Amparo's interest back to her. To Harry, for perhaps the first time since knowing the man, Zabini had almost appeared...human in that moment. Of course that promptly vanished once the prig turned back around to face him.

"I'll tell you one thing, if your dear little Granger is seeing Amparo for something she's paying a hippogriff's ransom for it. Of that you can be assured. Now if you don't mind, I believe I see some business associates of mines I'd rather be conversing with."

Zabini rose from his seat and straightened his robes. Then, after giving Harry an annoyingly jeering look, reached into one of his pockets and tossed a galleon on the table

"Here, Auror Potter, why don't you treat yourself to something on me," he gibingly said before turning and walking away.

Twat-face!

Harry watched as the man crossed over to the bar and stopped at his wife's side, barely acknowledging Hermione. He whispered something in the woman's ear, dropped a quick kiss on her cheek, and sauntered away to join a table filled with a few quiffy looking characters playing a round of wizard's faro. Harry's eyes only lingered on them for a moment before they came back to rest on Hermione and her new friend again. She appeared to be completely absorbed in whatever Zabini's wife was saying to her. Deciding that he was a bit curious as to what had his best friend's rapt attention, Harry decided to discover the answer for himself. After quaffing down the rest of his ale in one swallow and dropping his mug, Harry got up and turned towards the bar. Stealthily edging his way around the counter, he slowly crept up near where Hermione was standing. Zabini's wife, who had just removed her oval framed glasses and was wiping at their lenses, was speaking to her in muted tones. Neither of them noticed Harry hovering nearby at first.

"...so first thing Monday morning I'll file the petition and we'll officially get the ball rolling." Harry heard Zabini's wife say as she mole-ishly squinted up at Hermione. He had an unobstructed view of the unremarkable looking, stern faced young woman but had to settle for staring at the back of Hermione's head or glimpsing her through the mirror. "I'll make a few calls to all of the concerned parties and in a few months time..."

Hermione lowered the pumpkin juice in her hand quickly. Her grim reflection in the glass shook its head wildly at the woman.

"Months?! Oh no, no, no. This thing needs to be over now!" she almost shrilled before becoming mindful of her volume. "Whatever it takes, however much it takes, you have to make it all go away as if it never happened Amparo."

Make it all go away? What was it that Hermione needed the other women to make "go away", Harry wondered. Was Hermione really a client of Zabini's wife as the wizard had intimated earlier? Harry had already come to the conclusion that his best friend was in some sort of trouble, but now things were becoming thornier. Just what in the world was Hermione seeing a solicitor for? Or was it instead Harmony Darlington who needed the legal advice?

Sliding her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose, Zabini's wife reached out her other hand to rest over Hermione's as it rigidly gripped the bar. Slowly the tension in it eased and she reached for her beaker of juice again. Hermione greedily began to drink from it as her companion looked on, genuinely concerned.

"I'm good at what I do Hermione," the woman said confidently in a well practiced, reassuring voice that sought to soothe its listener. "Sure the circumstances are a bit twisty and I've never handled something quite like this before, but I know that any judgment would fall in our favor. The fact that you are an expat doesn't hurt us either. However it will take time. Rome wasn't built in a day after all."

She smiled at Hermione encouragingly and it lightened up her appearance considerably.

"Look, Blaise's grate in his office is open access. Why don't you stop by the house tomorrow for Low tea? We can discuss this further and-"

Harry hadn't been able to turn his back fast enough. Amparo's brown eyes had simply been focused on Hermione intently one second and in the next had shifted ever so slightly to land on him.

"Auror Potter?"

Pumpkin juice shot out of Hermione's mouth like a geyser. The empty ceramic cup fell from her hand. Because of the many charms Hannah was shrewd enough to have on all of the pub's drinkware, it didn't shatter. It simply hit the counter and rolled, none the worse for wear as the bartender came and reclaimed it. The same could not be said for Hermione. She was bent forward, gasping and wheezing desperately to catch her breath. At a loss for what to do, Amparo gingerly hit her across her back and shoulders.

"Anapneo."

As soon as Harry's spell hit Hermione, she straightened and took in a lungful of air like a woman who had been drowning.

"Oh Amparo! Oh, oh I'm s-so s-sorry," she stammered frantically as soon as she had caught her breath. She reached across the bar to retrieve a napkin and began to wipe at the pumpkin juice that she had hosed all over the front of Zabini's wife's austere robes. She made sure to avoid all eye contact with Harry and concentrated all her attention on the task.

"It's alright. Don't trouble yourself too much over it," said Amparo, unconcerned over the soaking.

Hermione was so wound up that she didn't notice that her intentions made the mess worse. She only succeeded in blotting the juice into the material causing a large stain to form.

"Oh, oh I'm so terribly, terribly sorry! I didn't mean to!" cried Hermione as she continued her fruitless efforts.

"Don't worry about it Hermione. I'm not mad," Amparo tried to convince her.

"But your robes!"

Harry stepped between them. "Ladies, maybe I can be of some assistance," he said as he pointed his still drawn wand at the ruined robes. "Evanesco."

Once the spots faded away, Harry returned his wand to its holster.

"That should do," he said as he looked at his work.

Amparo smiled brightly at him.

"Auror Potter, how chivalrous of you!"

From the corner of his eyes he could see Hermione's ill at ease expression. It was quite obvious to Harry that she didn't want him anywhere near Amparo, probably fearing what the woman might say in his presence. Zabini's wife however didn't appear to notice the air of tension that had suddenly descended down upon them all.

"Thank you so much," she continued, "but as I tried to explain to Hermione all the fuss wasn't necessary. I had every intention of burning these damned robes as soon as I got home tonight. Although I have no complaint against her skill, I think I'm a little more Stella McCartney than Madam Malkin if you understand me," she said with a good-natured smile.

He didn't, but since Hermione woodenly tittered along with her at the apparent joke, Harry forced a smile in the name of politeness.

"Amparo Leon by the way," she said as she reached out a hand.

Hermione dolefully shook her head.

"Apparently my nerves as well as my manners are shot. Amparo, I'm sure you have heard of Harry Potter," she said looking between them. Harry took the proffered hand.

"Scads. It's a pleasure to finally meet the famous hero behind the name," said Amparo as Harry blushed at the flattery. She gave his hand a firm shake and Harry couldn't help but note a certain weightiness to the woman's character. She was regal without being arrogant, dignified without being overbearing. It was all so very appealing and made Harry rethink his initial lackluster impression.

"Harry this is Amparo Leon. You remember Blaise Zabini from Hogwarts don't you? Well this is his-"

"Wife, yes I know. We shared a drink earlier. He told me all about his brilliant bride."

The news seemed to please Amparo; Hermione...not so much.

"Did he now?" asked a delighted Amparo as she let go his hand.

"Yes," Harry said as he purposely reached over Hermione to take a few cashews out of the bowl on the other side of her. "He also happened to mention the fact that you were a solicitor."

He gave Hermione an off-handed glance that was anything but, before shuffling the slightly stale nuts into his mouth. By the way that Hermione's hands began nervously fluttering about it was obvious that she had found the news disconcerting.

"And all this time I thought that you and Blaise didn't get along," Amparo said as she curiously looked to where her husband was and turned back to face Harry. "Are you and Blaise friends?"

Harry briefly wondered if there was ever a polite way of telling a person that they were married to a pompous prat.

Instead he gravely answered, "Your husband and I aren't even acquaintances I'm afraid Ms. Leon." He somehow managed to sound disappointed over the fact. "Never were unfortunately. We barely even knew each other in school, to be honest."

"Harry and I were in a different house from Blaise's," chimed Hermione.

"Oh, right. Blaise explained to me all of this house business once. Sounded rather silly," Amparo said dismissively with a wave of a hand. "You can just call me Amparo, by the way. I certainly hope that no old schoolyard grudges between you and my husband will deter us from getting to know each other better Auror Potter," she told him as she looked directly into his eyes. "After all we do share a person of common interest."

Harry didn't miss Hermione's quick intake of breath. Harry nonchalantly turned to look at her as she willed herself to stay calm, nearly biting her bottom lip off in the process. Her eyes bounced from Amparo to Harry as though she was waiting in fear of what might be said next.

"Is that so?" Harry asked with a smug little smile on his face as he kept his focus on Hermione. Merlin was she cute when she got all flustered.

He took a few more cashews, tipped back his head, and funneled them into his mouth.

Amparo nodded her head as she answered him.

"Yes, Ptolemy Cadmus."

It was a shame that the pumpkin juice was gone, it would have gone well with the chewed up mush that Harry spat out onto Amparo's clothes.

Looking down at the mess she dryly muttered, "This just doesn't appear to be my night, does it?"

Harry smiled at Amparo apologetically as he vanished the stains. Hermione however frowned as she looked confusedly between him and the other woman. Hermione's forehead was puckered in deep thought and a clear query was stamped across her features.

Don't ask it; please don't ask it! Those thoughts screamed through out Harry's head as he watched Hermione's mouth work open to form the question he was dreading to answer. All of his effort to keep the details of his most troubling case from her had ultimately come to nothing in the end.

"Who's Ptolemy Cadm−"

"Hermione!"

Harry instantly let out the breath he was holding. Saved by the witch!

Amparo, Harry, and Hermione all turned to watch a plump blonde with a scowling face march right up to them.

"Merlin and Morrígan woman, how long does it take you to get a bloody drink?" asked Susan as she came to a halt in front of Hermione. "You said you were only going to the bar to get another glass, what has taken you so long?"

"I...I..."

Susan folded her arms across her chest imposingly.

"Don't you know I need you? It's bad enough that I'm surrounded by them all day at Mungo's, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let a table of militant pregnant witches push me around while I'm off the clock," said Susan in a jocular, half-serious tone while eyeing the table full of couples in the middle of the room where she had just been sitting. The women in the group all laughed and catcalled after the blonde.

"Hannah, Padma, and Li are driving me insane! If I hear one more story about tender nipples I'll go spare! Sorry Harry," she added as an afterthought.

Harry chuckled. Susan Bones-Goldstein was a direct one.

"Quite alright Suze."

After Harry took a moment to courteously inquire if Susan and Amparo had ever met before (they had), Susan dramatically stated her reason for intruding on their conversation.

"I need someone else to tell those hormone heavy harpies that it's perfectly normal and respectable for a woman our age to be content without having a couple of toddlers hanging about our necks," she said to the three of them as she forcibly latched onto Hermione's wrist. "Harry, you don't mind if I borrow her do you?" Susan asked him.

Mind? Harry would have dropped down on one knee right then and there and professed his eternal devotion to the good Healer if it wouldn't have caused too much of a scene. Instead he smiled inwardly. Not only had their old school mate distracted Hermione from asking anything further about Ptolemy Cadmus, but with his best friend's attention diverted elsewhere, he would be free to pump Zabini's wife for any information Hermione might have told her. Things were looking up.

"Be my guest," he happily told Susan. He tried to train his face not to look too smug as he said it.

Hermione looked back at him and Amparo helplessly as Susan dragged her away.

Harry glanced back at Amparo. She had turned around to the bar and was signaling to Johannes, The Broomstick's barkeep. When Johannes came and took her request Harry decided to join her by having another mug of ale himself. As the bartender set about preparing their orders, Harry racked his brain for ways to engage Amparo in friendly discourse without it sounding like some sort of interrogation. The woman was a solicitor after all; Harry knew that he had to be on his toes around her. If Hermione was Amparo's client there wasn't much that she would (or for that matter could) tell him. But if he was lucky, and she was juiced enough, she might just let a few things slip.

"You know, until a few days ago I felt as similarly as your friend there does," Amparo said, effortlessly striking up conversation again and saving Harry the disgrace of trying to make idle chit chat. Johannes came and placed a cocktail glass and mug in front of them along with the checks. She smiled at the bartender in thanks and turned to look at Harry as she raised her drink. "My career had been my primary focus," she said before taking a long sip from her glass. "And then I found out I was pregnant."

Harry realized right away that what he had mistook for wine was in actuality sparkling cider she was drinking.

He hurriedly tried to offer a few kind words. "I guess congratulations are in order. You and your husband must be so pleased."

She set her glass down on the counter.

"Oh I haven't told Blaise yet. Actually Auror Potter, besides Healer Bones-Goldstein and my own private physician, you are the only other person that knows my secret. In fact, I haven't even told my parents."

The information took Harry by surprise. Why was she telling him all of this? He wasn't so sure where any of this was headed, but he decided to play it safe and hear her out.

Harry slowly nodded his head and said, "I see."

Though he didn't really. The fact did not miss her attention.

"Do you?" she asked with a wan smile. When Harry offered no further response she asked him another question. "Have you ever met my mother-in-law?"

"I can't say that I've ever had the pleasure," he replied. He raised his mug to his lips and proceeded to swallow the whiskey-like malt down. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as the brew burned inside his chest, Harry set the mug back on the counter.

"Well when Blaise told her that we were going to get married she threatened to disinherit him. Sadly for her, she found out that everything was in his name and that he was the one who held the purse strings. Even then she still told him that our marriage would be cursed and that any child born from us would be a walking atrocity."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Well isn't she a regular old softie."

Amparo chuckled lightly.

"Quite. But you see that kind of hatred comes with the territory. When Blaise and I decided to marry I knew what I was in for. It wasn't an easy decision, but I still made it. I figured that as long as I could see it coming, that kind of blatant prejudice, I could protect me and mines from it. But do you know what my very first thought was when my doctor told me that I was expecting?"

Harry shook his head gravely. The candor in which she spoke was most captivating.

"Will my child live to take his first steps or say her first words; that was all I could think about."

With a furrowed brow, he concernedly asked, "But why? Is something the matter?"

Amparo smiled sadly. "Yes, something is the matter. I have a hard time thinking about baby names or waiting lists for fancy schools when all I can wonder is am I next...are me and my husband next."

Harry immediately understood her.

"You're talking about Cadmus."

"He is still out there and as long as that is the case there will be many couples such as Blaise and myself who will be left to ponder that very question over and over again. That's no way to live."

"I understand your concern."

"That's all very well and good, but what are you doing about it?" she asked. "Please understand Auror Potter that my intention is not to sound condemnatory, but you should be aware that there is a growing faction amongst the POWW membership that believes that the British Ministry is purposely being negligent in its pursuit of the blood bigot Cadmus."

This was news to Harry. He knew there were grumblings in certain sectors that it was taking far too long to bring the suspect in, but he wasn't aware that relations between the Ministry and the public had broken down so severely. He stared at her in outright shock.

"There's even been a rumor floated about that the exterminations of the Moon family, the Pembrokes, and one or two of the other couples were in actuality part of an elaborate plot by your government to weed out all possible Muggle 'taint' from some of the oldest English wizarding lines."

Harry was horrified at the revelation. His jaw went slack at the very idea. He started to offer some form of protestation, but Amparo cut him off before he could speak the words.

"People are scared Auror Potter," she said resignedly. "They are willing to believe almost anything at this point. No matter how nonsensical it all may sound any explanation is far better than none."

"Amparo, nothing could be further from the truth," Harry firmly told her. "Cadmus is my case and apprehending him is one of the Ministry's top priorities. I would swear an oath by that. As long as I am in charge his days are numbered. Personally I have my own reasons to want to put the bastard away for good."

Harry's eyes had drifted towards the table where Hermione sat laughing with some of their old school friends, completely unaware of the longing look that Harry couldn't help but direct towards her. She wasn't the only one who missed it.

"Of course you do," said Amparo as he turned to look at her again, "your brother and sister-in-law. How could I forget?"

For a moment, Harry was confused at her meaning.

"Oh...oh right, Fred and Glinda," he said once catching on. He was ashamed that his wife's brother and wife had been the furthest thing from his mind. "Please believe me Amparo when I say that I will not rest until Ptolemy Cadmus has been apprehended and sentenced to the full extent of our laws. You have my word," he said earnestly.

A pleased smile graced her lips. "Funny, Blaise had always described you as some ineffectual pretty boy. I guess I have to tell him that he got it all wrong." She drank the rest of her glass down.

Harry tried to scowl at the joke, but her jovial demeanor made it hard to. He might not like Zabini, but his wife was alright.

"You know, you really should tell your husband the good news," said Harry after finishing up his ale.

"Oh I will. Blaise's birthday is in another week. Do you think he'll like his present much?" she asked with an impish look.

"I'm sure he will love it," said Harry sincerely smiling at her.

Amparo smiled back, then began rooting around in her handbag for money to pay for her drink. Unsure of whether or not the Muggle woman carried any wizarding money on her, Harry took it upon himself to pay both of their tabs. She smiled gratefully at him as he settled up the bill with Johannes.

"Thank you," she said appreciatively. "It's been a pleasure chatting with you Auror Potter. I hope soon we'll be able to speak again under better circumstances."

She reached into her purse and handed him a thick business card decorated in golden filigree.

"Perhaps we could have you out to Carregbryn some day. The house is a bit ostentatious but I think you would like Newcastle Emlyn. In my not so humble opinion, it quite possibly is some of the most beautiful Welsh countryside to be had. Blaise and I would love to have you."

When Harry quirked an eyebrow up at the declaration she laughed.

"Well I know that I would love to have you. You have my card. If you ever need to discuss anything feel free to call. I would be happy to help in any way if I can."

As Amparo walked away to join her husband, Harry studied the business card in his hand. Along with a very sedate looking photo of the woman, it gave Amparo's name, the name and location of her firm in Vauxhall, as well as its offices in Belfast and Edinburgh. There was also two separate contact numbers listed, one to her personal mobile. Harry placed the card in his robe pocket. Although his brief conversation with the well-informed solicitor hadn't gone the way he had hoped, he would definitely be calling on Amparo Leon in the near future.

A noise to his left caught Harry's attention. The group at the table that Hermione had been sitting at had begun to gather their belongings and disband for the night. In the midst of the throng headed towards the door was Hermione chatting away with Susan and her husband Anthony. Harry had just begun to cross the floor to follow them when he ran into a two headed roadblock.

"Whoa there Harry!"

"Where's the fire mate?"

Harry looked between the Weasley twins and tried his damnedest not to look as anxious as he felt.

"Fred, George, if you don't mind," he said in a deceivingly calm manner as he tried to side step the two of them. Instead of getting the message, Fred and George closed ranks around him.

"But that's just it Harry, we do mind," said George.

Fred's head bobbed up and down in agreement.

"We have a few things to discuss with you," he said. "I know you've had a lot on your mind lately..."

Fred glanced over his shoulder at the doorway. Harry watched as Hermione passed through it.

"...but George and I figured that you might like to hear what we have to say."

Harry felt his displeasure increase. If he didn't hurry up and catch her, Hermione would disappear off any second. He had wasted so much time playing spy that he still hadn't found out if she had his mum's wand with her for sure.

Harry gave George an impatient glare as he asked, "Can't it keep 'til later?"

George shook his head.

"Hmm, 'fraid not," he said as he threw an arm around Harry's shoulder and turned him away from the door. "Our baby brother is about to be tied into knots.

Harry frowned. "Don't you mean he's tying the knot?"

"Considering who he's marrying the two are practically one in the same," said Fred as he took up the spot on the other side of his brother-in-law. "He deserves a proper stag night to remember just what he's going to be giving up once he marries the shy and retiring Mrs. Brown-Pye."

"Stag night?"

Harry looked between the twins dazedly. What were they talking about a stag night for? Ron's Seclusion was days awa-

"Oh fuck!"

Harry felt as low as a slug's underbelly. And that was pretty low! With all the worrying he had been doing running after Hermione these past few days he had unconscionably let a few things slip.

"Forget that it was Wednesday, did you?" Fred asked him.

Harry looked down to the ground ashamedly. He was a lousy best mate and best man.

"Well take heart Harry! It's Fred and George to the rescue!"

"My brother and I are going to take everything out of your hands," piped up George.

Harry looked at both of them gratefully.

"Wow, that's awful nice of you guys!" he exclaimed before he remembered who he was talking to. "Wait, why are you two being so nice? What's in it for you?" he asked as he looked them both over warily.

"Harry, that hurts! How could you think that me and my twin would stoop so low as to try and turn a small profit by charging a reasonable admission to the festivities?" asked George with a fake little pout on his face. It was strangely reminiscent of the look Ginny had been so fond of giving him during the first few years of their marriage when she would try and wheedle him into getting her way about something. Back then he had thought it cute. Harry almost shuddered at the freaky comparison now. Last thing he wanted to picture was George Weasley in his bed.

Shaking the image off, Harry said straightforwardly, "I didn't."

George was astounded.

"You didn't? And here I thought you were smarter than that Harry!"

Harry decided that the best thing to do was to humor Fred and George or he would never get shot of them.

"So I take it that you two want to try and plan Ron's bachelor party?"

Fred and George looked across Harry at each other.

"TRY?!" they both bellowed at him.

"We've already come up with a theme!" cried George enthusiastically.

Despite himself, Harry was amused. "A theme?"

"Ever hear of a sleepy little berg called Vegas?" asked Fred grinning widely.

"It's in the States, right?"

"Aye," he said. "The Muggles call it 'Sin City'. It's a marvelous, magical land of wonder where the money is easy, the liquor flows freely, and the women are tops optional." He knavishly winked an eye at Harry.

Harry pulled himself away from the Weasley brothers and shook his head sternly.

"Sorry guys, no strippers," he told them.

Fred and George looked at him as though he were an escaped patient from Mongo's fourth floor.

"Wait..."

"What?"

"There can't be any strippers at Ron's party," Harry said again. The twins looked at him in shock for another second before they both hooted merrily at the obvious joke.

"Good one Har!" said George as he gave Harry a playful shove to the shoulder.

"No, I'm serious. No strippers allowed. Ron's orders," Harry reiterated, this time with a tad more conviction.

Having finally figured out that Harry was indeed telling them the truth, both freckled faces broke out into outraged expressions.

"Why would he decide a pinheaded thing like that?!" Fred didn't appear to take the news well at all.

Out of loyalty to his best friend, Harry tried his best not to take too much enjoyment out of his poor henpecked pal's predicament.

"I believe it had something to do with Lavender threatening to make him sleep in the bathroom for the duration of their Honeymoon unless he promised her that there wouldn't be any loose women cavorting around naked at his party."

"AND HE AGREED?!" they yelled wrathfully.

"You both know Ron; he hasn't had sex in two weeks. He was vulnerable."

"But...but...we were going to get Naughty Ninotchka from the Lamia's Lair to perform," said Fred despairingly. "She was going to do her Dance of the Disappearing Python. She was only going to charge us half-price. She was only going to charge us half-price!"

Fred dropped his head onto George's shoulder in a hammy, overwrought move that hid his face from view. George gave him a comforting pat as he threw their brother-in-law an aggrieved look.

"Are you happy Harry?! You made Fred cry!"

A momentary concern in just where Ninotchka's python disappeared to nearly distracted Harry from answering him.

"Sorry fellas, but we wouldn't want to upset Lavender, now would we?"

Fred's head sprang up as though pulled by a string.

"Upset Lavender you say?"

A truly devilish expression unfurled itself on his face. He and George had barely glanced at each other before they both turned their attention back to Harry.

"We wouldn't dream of it," George swore in overdone innocence. He wore the same trouble-making grin as his brother. Whatever plot the two had cooked up inside their heads, Harry knew that no earthly good could possibly come of it.

"I don't even want to know," he simply told them. "But if the two of you are serious about putting together the party, just tell me where and what time and I'll make sure that Ron shows."

Fred smiled at him.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you Harry!"

Harry shook his head at the twins as they parted to allow him to pass between them. With hurried steps he quickly made his way to the door, pretending not to see the various friendly and smiling faces beckoning him towards their tables for a shared drink or laugh. Instead he plowed his way straight towards the exit, practically hurling himself out onto the front walk as the door slammed shut behind him swallowing the raucous noise of the pub.

"HERMIONE!" his voice boomed out in the quiet of the faintly lit street as he skidded to a halt and looked frantically from left to right. Although the night air was cool, Harry could feel perspiration sliding down the back of his neck and collecting in his pits.

"Harry?"

Harry swung around to find a shadowy shape leaning against the building. When it stepped forward, the light of the full moon revealed Hermione's bewildered face to him. He found himself staring into her large, Kohl rimmed dark eyes. Her hands had been clasped together tightly in front of her and remained that way. She looked as though she had been catching a bit of air until he had so rudely interrupted her. Harry supposed he should have felt some form of regret or shame for disturbing her peace, but truthfully he was so happy to see her standing there that he forgot all sense of decorum.

"Hermione you're...you're still here!" he shouted joyously after taking two wide strides to stand directly in front of her. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. "I thought you might have Ap―gone home already."

Apparently missing Harry's near slip of the tongue, Hermione smiled at him winsomely as though he had told a whopper of a joke.

"In these shoes?" she asked grinning from ear to ear. She looked down at her silvery sandals with their spindled heels and pretended to examine them carefully. "Hmm...I suppose they are comfortable, but that would have been some walk all the way from here to the Hollow," she added teasingly as she brought her eyes back to his.

The two young people grinned stupidly at one another at length before Hermione's toothsome smile made Harry suddenly feel all of fifteen years old again. Sometimes he had a hard time remembering that he had grown into a pretty sure-footed adult when a simple gesture from her turned him into a bumbling teenager. Now was not the time to act like some love struck schoolboy, he strongly reminded himself.

Harry quickly drew his hands away from her before he could leave wet, clammy hand prints all over her pretty sleeves.

"Right...right," he embarrassedly mumbled as he glanced down at his own boots and rubbed at the back of his neck. He turned away and stepped a few paces from her, never seeing the pained expression that spoiled Hermione's cheerful visage. When he did finally look back at her she was smiling once again, though Harry did take note that it wasn't half as easygoing and carefree as it had been mere seconds before.

"So are you heading off home to Ginny now?" asked Hermione in a painfully chipper voice as she edged closer to him.

Despite his best intentions, Harry couldn't help but wince at the question. He wanted to talk to Hermione about a great many things, but Ginny was a bit of a complicated subject to bring up in their current surroundings. Just what could he say on the matter? There was one side of him that wanted to sit down with his best friend, the person whose opinion he valued most in this world and confess the details of his fruitless marriage, his failure at being a good husband. But the Hermione that he knew would scoff at such a profession from him. Hadn't she once been his and Ginny's biggest cheerleader. She would laughingly tell him that such a thing couldn't possibly be true, that he loved Ginny and all he needed to do was try harder to make their relationship work. She would probably offer him her advice and her encouragement, because she was such a good friend. All the while Harry would smile weakly at her, neglecting to tell Hermione that he was arse backwards in love with the very person he was pouring his heart out to.

No, he definitely did not want to have that conversation just now. Especially when the door to the pub would occasionally swing open and they would be joined outside by other partygoers who would wave goodnight before Apparating away. Besides, he had told himself over and over again that the time just wasn't right to let her know that he loved her. No, not yet. Besides, knowing that he had a tendency to bollocks things up when it came to his feeling, Harry wanted everything to be perfect when he finally told her.

"Ginny? Oh no, no...I'm sure she got home just fine," Harry replied as unconcernedly as he could manage, searching for something else to distract Hermione with. "But I'm far more worried about you. Malfoy was a ponce to have left you stranded like this," he said as a brilliant idea suddenly occurred to him. "Say, here's a thought, I'll take you home!"

The suggestion seemed to catch Hermione off guard. She wordlessly stared at him for a moment before quickly saying, "You don't have to do that. I can find my own way. I don't want to keep you from your wife."

Although Harry had no reason to find anything odd in what she said, the rushed manner in which the words were spoken did make him scratch at his head. It almost sounded like she was trying to get rid of him.

"And just so you know I told Draco to head home with Luna," she continued. "He would have come here tonight if only to make sure I got back to the Hollow in one piece, but I didn't think it fair to make him stay where he felt so uncomfortable. As you know, The Broomsticks holds rather bad memories for him."

Harry tried to keep the eye rolling to a minimum.

"Well he did Imperio Rosmerta," he cynically retorted.

"Yes, but only under duress," Hermione primly stated which earned her an annoyed huff from Harry. She ignored it however. "His family's safety was hanging in the balance. Still, he does regret many of his actions early on during the war. I know you think him morally bankrupt, but Draco does have a sense of right and wrong, however warped it might be."

Harry knew that Hermione was right to an extent; he just hated it whenever she blathered on and on extolling the many virtues of the Great Albino Ferret.

"It's hard to believe that Malfoy believes in anything other than making sure that his boots are spit shined just right," Harry griped sourly.

With a small shake of her head Hermione said, "Oh Draco Malfoy can care intensely. And when hurt, can lash out just as viciously. Everything else is a well maintained veneer."

"Well, I still think he was an arse for ditching you!" Harry testily stated. He had had enough of talking about the git. However his partner had given him a valid excuse to get Hermione alone. Malfoy was good for something it would seem. "But no matter, I'll just take you home and we can talk," Harry told her as he took a step forward.

Hermione took a shaky step back.

"Talk? What is there to talk about?" she asked sharply.

He would have been lying if he said that the distrusting note to her voice hadn't been painful, but it really didn't surprise him. She had spent most of the evening avoiding him. But now that he had the chance to get her alone he wouldn't allow it to pass. Someone was usually always interrupting their time together, but at the house it would just be the two of them.

Harry took yet another step closer to Hermione. The good news was that she didn't make any move to back away from him again. The bad news was that Harry couldn't help but feel that the gulf between them had nothing to do with any physical distance.

Shaking that thought off, Harry said, "Anything. Nothing." He took one of her hands in his. "I just...I just want to spend some time with you Hermione, that's all."

And maybe frisk you, he added cunningly in his head. Well, there was that too.

As though reading his heathen thoughts, Hermione pulled her hand from his grip.

"Maybe you should go home to Ginny. I'm sure she's expecting you. I'll be alright. You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

If she had meant to make him feel better about leaving her to her own devices, her insistence on brining up Ginny yet again had only helped to make Harry feel two things; guilty and cross. It had also reminded him of how troubled she had seemed earlier.

"OK, THAT'S IT!" he angrily snapped. The corners of her mouth turned downward, obviously taken aback by his out of the blue display of temper. "That's it," he said again as he lowered his voice.

A couple had just exited the pub and he didn't want him and Hermione to draw any unwanted attention. He watched the man and woman disappear before speaking again.

"What is the deal with you and Ginny?! Pardon me for saying it Hermione, but the two of you have hardly been what I would consider friendly in a long time. So why are you so concerned about her now?"

"No reason. It just...she seemed a little disappointed when you decided to stay out, didn't she?" Hermione perceptively asked, veering her eyes away from his.

A little? Hermione had a gift for the understatement. Ginny had looked like she was ready to hex him to Hades and back again when he had told her that he was going into Hogsmeade instead of home with her. Ginny wasn't pleased with the decision at all; she had been all wired up to get him back to the house for some reason. She seemed almost manic in his opinion. Harry found it odd; all of a sudden she was anxious to keep him tethered at her side when she had been only too glad to avoid him the last few days. Her strange change of mood had almost made him relent and follow her back to the Wiltshire estate to find out what was going on. Doing so would have meant leaving Hermione though and Harry couldn't bring himself to do that. Of course that's not what he told Ginny. Ron needed someone to make sure he didn't splinch himself in two, he had said. Lavender, who had been eyeing Hermione distrustfully at the time, looked relieved over the news that Harry would be playing chaperon for the night. She didn't mind leaving Ron with Hermione as long as Harry was there to watch over them. It was Lavender who ended up persuading Ginny to just "let the boys be boys" and Ginny, after a good twenty minutes of deliberating, had reluctantly agreed. But Harry knew that as soon as he eventually made it back to the house there would be one angry little red haired witch to contend with.

"She was a bit...irritated with me," said Harry carefully, "but I'm sure she would understand why I would feel the need to make sure that you were taken care of."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Hermione had turned her head away and muttered the words so quietly that Harry had almost missed them.

"Doubt what?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

Hermione's face screwed up as though she were fighting off the urge to say something. Or not say it. She crossed in front of him, away from the pub, and all Harry could see of her was her back.

"Listen Harry; go home to your wife. I'll be fine. I can side-along with someone else. Charlie offered a ride. When he gets back I'll just go with him."

Unconsciously, Harry felt his back teeth grind together.

"Or Ron could take me home," she said, finally turning back to him. Harry's face went from mild annoyance to disbelief.

"Ron?!"

She would rather have Ron take her?! The same Ron who failed his first apparition test, that Ron?

"But he's tanked!" Harry exclaimed bewilderedly as he marched right up to her and stopped. "Sorry Hermione, I can't in good conscience allow you to side-along with Ron in his condition. He's had too much to drink tonight! You would just be begging for a splinching. The night the Cannons advanced to the finals I learned that the hard way."

Harry almost shuddered from the memory of it.

Intrigued, Hermione asked, "What happened?"

"Well―and keep in mind I was pretty pissed myself―Ron got it into his head that he was sober enough to get us both home. To make a short story even shorter, I ended up with his and he ended up with mines."

Hermione had tilted her head, the befuddled expression on her face confirming that she was trying to puzzle out the strange tale, when suddenly her mouth popped open. Her eyes clamped shut as though trying to ward off the mental image she could almost see before her.

"I'm scarred for life!" she yelped.

Harry tried not to smile at her queasy expression.

"Well you did ask. Don't worry though; a quick wake-up call to Madame Pomfrey and two hours later saw everything sorting itself to right. But let me tell you," he said with a conspiratorial chuckle, "those were two very long and confusing hours."

The wide and gaping hole that Harry had imagined between them closed on its own. A loud and unladylike snort escaped from her before Hermione could cover her mouth with her hands to stop it. Before he knew it, she was bubbling over with laughter at his outrageous story. She laughed so hard that tears welled in her eyes. Harry laughed along with her. Although at the time the situation had been anything but, looking back now he could see how funny his and Ron's calamitous night turned out to be. As an added bonus it had brought a smile to Hermione's lips which made it all worth the while. She was still laughing, even as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"Hey, you really do look zonked," he said smiling softly. "Why don't you just let me take you home and-"

"I SAID NO!"

The easy laughter instantly died with Hermione's outcry. She had pulled back from him again and was staring at the ground in embarrassment. Harry could barely see her red and splotchy face.

"Why do you have to keep pushing at me Harry?!" came her question, although it was directed more to his shoes than to him. She absolutely refused to look him in the eye. "I got along just fine without you for five years. FIVE YEARS! Why do you think suddenly all of that has changed? I've told you that everything is fine. I've told you that I can take care of myself. But you won't listen! You chase me half way across the school grounds like I'm some wayward child you have to keep track of. I had to take refuge in a restroom just so I could have a moment's peace. Thank goodness you looked away or I would have never gotten my chance to sneak out of the damned lavatory. I know you care about my well being and that you're only trying to be a good friend, but enough is enough. I don't need rescuing Harry!" she exasperatedly proclaimed.

"You won't even look at me," Harry said, trying to catch her eye. He knew that he was essentially doing what she had just accused him of, pushing at her, but Harry had a feeling that if he backed off at that precise moment something crucial would slip between the cracks. "It's been like this all night," he continued. "You've been keeping me at arm's length practically. Are you mad at me? Did I do…or…or say something to offend you somehow?"

Hermione quickly lifted her head.

"What? No. No. I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you."

Harry couldn't help but scoff disbelievingly at that. Against her will it seemed, Hermione smiled weakly.

"At least not for long," she conceded. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just mad at myself mostly."

"I don't understand."

Hermione sighed. "I knew this would happen. I knew that I would end up telling you. But I would never want it to seem as if I was trying to purposely come between you and Ginny, cause a rift. That would never be my intention. Never! You have to believe that Harry. You have to!"

It was like she was speaking gibberish. She spoke in such a harried stream of sound that it was barely decipherable. When her emotions got in the way Hermione tended to get very excitable. Usually at those times her voice would become strident, and her pitch would ratchet up steadily every other word. Her eyes would grow so large that all one could see were the whites of her eyes, like now. It looked like whatever it was she was holding on to was driving her around the bend. The feeling that he might not like what he was about to hear crossed Harry's mind.

"Ginny should have just left me out of it. I don't know why she felt the need to involve me. It's not my business! It's not my place. Never should have been my place..."

Desperate to find some understanding, Harry grabbed a hold of the one thing that made any sense to him.

"Ginny?"

Hermione rambled on as though she hadn't heard him.

"...but then Ginny went and made it my place by accusing me..."

Hermione paused, too worked up to even continue her thought. The last few words had left her lips as an indignant hiss.

"…but you should know!" she eventually continued finally looking at him evenly. "Ginny is your wife now, you should know. You have every right to know; even if you might not like hearing it."

"Hermione you aren't making a whit of sense!" he said when he could take no more. "What's this about Ginny?"

"I...Ginny and I had a fight," she finally spat out, exhaling heavily afterwards as though throwing off some cumbersome burden.

"Ok, so now I know why the two of you were snarling at each other all night." said Harry. The explanation didn't surprise him. Hermione and Ginny's queer behavior finally made some real sense. Now all that was left to find out was what the fight had been about.

"So you caught that then?" she asked shamefacedly. "I figured that you might." A subtle smile curved her lips and she ducked her head to hide it. "I knew that I couldn't keep anything from you for long. That's why I tried so hard to stay away..."

Her eyes screwed up tightly for an instant before opening again.

"...tonight. That's why I tried to keep my distance at the Ball all evening. I knew that I would eventually break and tell you everything, even if I didn't want to, even if it might hurt you. I would never want to hurt you Harry."

Harry only wished that what she said was completely true, there was so much that she was keeping from him. He wanted her to keep talking though so he didn't say a thing to contradict her. Not now when she was finally opening up. He took both her hands in his to encourage her to go on.

"I'm so sorry; I never meant to get into it with Ginny. And I hate it that I have to be the one to tell you this, but I just can't keep quiet any longer when it might mean your marriage."

She stepped closer to him, taking a moment to look around to make sure that there were no prying ears nearby, and leaned forward. Harry barely heard the words; he had to steel himself not to lean in to her. The exotic scent of her perfume was far more intoxicating then anything he had had to drink that night and made him feel almost lightheaded. Impulsive. Reckless. If he were only to lower his head...

"Harry," began Hermione, a hushed and confiding tone to her voice, "you need to go home and talk to your wife because right now she is operating under the scurrilous presupposition that you are engaged in a most illicit liaison with some contemptible slattern!"

After a mouthful like that it wasn't all that surprising that she was at a loss for breath. She inhaled deeply and looked to Harry closely for his reaction. He merely stared blankly down at her.

"Ok, now this time try it in English," he dryly volleyed back.

Hermione didn't take kindly to the ill-timed remark. She threw his hands off her and smacked his arm.

"NOT SO HARD HERMIONE!"

He drew back from her and rubbed at the sore spot. She could be so violent at times.

"This is no time for jokes Harry James! Ginny thinks you're screwing around on her!"

That was all it took to startle Harry into a near debilitating panic. How he ever found the strength to form a coherent sentence, he never knew.

"G-Ginny th-thinks I'm...I'm having an affair?!" came the stammering question.

Hermione mutely nodded her head up and down.

Harry felt as though he were going to be sick. It didn't even matter that Hermione's revelation wasn't true (technically speaking at least). The argument that he hadn't physically cheated on Ginny was thin, but it was the one detail that enabled him to keep his head high through all of this. But that would soon be coming to an end. Ginny knew! That was it; game over. Quaffle blocked, Snitch caught; 150 points to the opposing team! He hadn't even gotten a chance to get off the bench and the whistle was already being blown. One of his worse fears had come true, Ginny had figured out that he was contemplating leaving her before he'd had a chance to tell her himself. Maybe it was simple-minded of him to believe that he would have somehow made it better, but he honestly thought that he might have been able to soften the blow if he was the one that broke it to Ginny. He would have sat her down and gently explained his side of things. He would have begged her for her forgiveness for not loving her the way she deserved, the way that she loved him. If given the opportunity to do things his way he might have even convinced her that ending their union was in both of their best interests. But now his impossible situation had been made worse. He didn't know how she had figured it all out, and he certainly couldn't figure out why she assumed that he had been physically unfaithful to her, but he knew one thing for certain; his wife was a smart one. Whatever evidence of his disloyalty Ginny had managed to gather had led her directly to the so-called other woman's door.

And now here was dear, sweet Hermione, completely clueless as to how she had gotten pulled into this debacle.

Harry sighed hopelessly. Knowing Ginny, the whole situation had officially gone off the rails. That's why Ginny had been so hell-bent on getting him home earlier; she had already chewed out the competition and was now preparing to lay into him. No doubt Hermione would have vehemently denied Ginny's accusations, but the way he had chased after her all evening had probably done little to disprove the charge. Ginny was a very proud woman, of course she wouldn't take the news that her husband wanted to be with another woman lightly. The fact that the woman just happened to be Hermione only helped to add salt to the wound. The worst part was that Harry knew that he had created this clusterfuck. If he had gone to Ginny the moment he first realized that their marriage was over maybe all of this ugliness could have been quashed. But he had made the decision to put other matters ahead of his own selfish desires and that gamble had ultimately blown up in his face. If Ginny now knew that his feelings for Hermione were far more than filial in nature, it was only a matter of time before everyone else found out as well. All of the Weasleys would be caught in the crossfire, undoubtedly forced to choose sides, and there was no question which would prevail in the end. He would lose his adoptive family. But even knowing all of that, the one thought that weighed the heaviest on his mind was that Hermione would now find out his feelings for her in the ugliest of ways. He was officially in Hell.

In a way though Harry was almost glad; maybe it was better to get everything out in the open now, no more hidden agendas or mixed signals. Ginny had probably given Hermione an earful and now it was time for him to do damage control. Maybe it was time to tell Hermione the truth. He was so determined to get her to reveal all to him, but wasn't he being a hypocrite by keeping things from her too? Sure he could say that he had done it in her best interest, and in the case of Ptolemy Cadmus he fervently believed that to be the case, but Hermione had every right to know that he was in love with her. His only wish was that he could tell her without screwing it all up.

"I'm so sorry that you had to find out this way Hermione…" Harry began anemically. He bravely tried to meet her questioning gaze.

Hermione's hand jumped to her mouth as she gasped.

"You mean...you mean Ginny was right?!" She sounded wounded and her voice barely registered higher than a whisper. "You...you aren't having an affair with some strange woman Harry, are you?!"

Bemusedly, Harry stared at her. "Strange woman?"

His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to sort out the oddity of the question.

"Strange woman? What are you on about?!" he almost demanded.

Hermione began to nervously chew on her lip.

"Ginny came to see me at the cottage today because she thinks that you've been cheating on her. To make matters worse, she thinks that I've been playing your willing accomplice. She thinks I know who your mystery woman is."

She then turned big, mournful eyes up at him.

"Ginny isn't right, is she Harry?" She almost sounded hopeful to his muddled mind.

Her eyes seemed to search his face, intent on finding the answer for herself. Harry was so stunned by the question that it took him a second to recover from it.

"NO!" he proclaimed forthrightly once he began to make sense of everything. "No. I'm not having an affair! I have never cheated on Ginny."

Harry ignored the pang of conscience that reminded him that he was being very generous in his avowal of innocence, all things considered. He refused to feel guilty though, especially when his answer produced such a beaming smile from Hermione. Sweet relief seemed to flood every inch of him causing a giddy rush of blood to his head.

Ginny didn't know about Hermione!

Hell, Hermione didn't know about Hermione!

For the time being his secret was still safe!

Believing that Harry's gladdened smile was due to the ridiculousness of the situation, a self-satisfied smirk played about Hermione's face.

"Ha! I knew it," she crowed, her nose tipped upward grandly. "I told Ginny that she was just being delusional. She had some nerve shoveling that garbage at me."

"I'm so sorry Hermione that you're involved in this mess."

"Why? You didn't do anything. Ginny is the one who's tried to pull me into this...this," she said gesturing between them. "And it's not like I haven't been on the wrong end of one of Ginny's tirades before and lived to tell the tale. The only difference between this time and the last is that I gave just as good as I got!" she said proudly, eyes narrowed. "I mean the nerve to accuse you of...to even suggest that you would...OF ALL PEOPLE!"

She punctuated her point with a stamp of her foot.

The elation that Harry had been feeling began to fizzle. Although he was relieved that Ginny didn't think he was seeing Hermione behind her back, he had to now wonder what would make his wife think he was carrying on with anyone in the first place. And if she did think he was cheating on her, why wouldn't she assume it was Hermione? There was no other woman that he was closer to, and goodness knows he had been shameless in how he acted around her since the very moment she got back. Why wouldn't Ginny suspect his best friend? For that matter, Harry had to wonder why no one in the family had become suspicious of his brazen behavior when it came to Hermione. Was he really that good at hiding his true emotions or were they all just that thick? He personally sided with the latter.

And what of the woman herself? When they were younger he and Hermione had such an uncanny connection that she always seemed to be attuned to what he was thinking, feeling. There was a time he couldn't hide anything from the insightful witch, why was now so different? Had the years and distance caused their relationship that much disrepair? If anyone should have figured out what was going on in his head it should have been her. She had been the first to know that he had fancied Cho. She had figured out that he had feelings for Ginny almost before he had acknowledged the fact to himself. Why was she being so dense now when the true object of his desire was her? Was she just as oblivious as all the others? Or worse, was she acting dim on purpose? How could Hermione not know how he felt about her, that he wanted her so desperately? He heard of love being blind, he never counted on it being deaf and dumb as well.

Hermione, who had been practically frothing at the mouth still, ended up inadvertently answering his question in that high and mighty tone of hers she was known to take from time to time. She was so engrossed in her righteous wrath that she barely noticed that he had grown conspicuously silent.

"Of course I was right; I knew that you weren't some philanderer. I told Ginny that she didn't know you at all if she could think so lowly of you! You would never do something like that, forsake your vows. Harry Potter an adulterer; what rubbish! You have far too much nobility in you to ever dishonor the commitment you made to her just to go chasing after some tramp! You would never, never do that to Ginny! Not you, not my Harry! Hmph!"

Finally realizing that Harry hadn't uttered a single word throughout her impassioned speech, Hermione spared him a glance. She nearly did a double take at Harry's sickly pallor. He looked positively ashen.

"Gracious Harry, you went all gray all of a sudden!" she said, quickly wrapping an arm around him to offer some form of comfort. "Are you alright?! Have you had too much to drink? Is it heartburn, indigestion?"

With a dispirited shake of his head Harry feebly croaked the only words he could muster.

"No, irony."

Harry absently reached out for her hand as though it were some cord to keep him connected to this world. Earlier he had compared his situation to being relegated to the pits of perdition, but this was oh so much worse. This was limbo. Of course Hermione was blinded to the fact that he had fallen in love with her. In her mind the Harry Potter that she knew was above such indiscretions. The Harry Potter she knew stood for all that was moral and right. The Harry Potter she knew was a model husband, an upstanding citizen and not the lying, cheating bastard that he secretly felt himself to be. How was he ever going to tell Hermione how wrong she was; that he had the same faults and weaknesses as any man? How could he look her in the eye and watch the high regard she had for him crumbled into dust?

He was screwed.

He couldn't even glean a bit of pleasure out of the possessive manner in which she had called him "her Harry". How could he even begin to tell her how accurate she was? He was hers, only hers, if only she would claim him.

"Hermione I need to tell you someth―"

*bang*

Whatever he had been about to say was lost in the sound of the door to The Three Broomsticks banging against the wall after being thrown open. The glow of numerous lanterns from inside the pub poured out and bathed Harry and Hermione in a harsh, blinding beam of light. Out of that light stepped Ron and Neville.

"Blimey Neville, you were righ'!" bellowed the redhead in a loud, trumpet-like voice as the door slammed shut behind the two men. "Neville shaid we'd pro'lly find the two of you ou' here together."

The tense atmosphere slowly became undone as both Harry and Hermione grinned at their best friend's exuberance and traded humored glances between them. Judging by his volume and his somewhat slurred speech Ron, finding himself completely freed from under Lavender's thumb for the evening, had bellied up to the bar all night. So much so that Neville seemed to be supporting his substantial weight as they came staggering outside. Ron however threw him aside and came tottering towards his two best mates once spying them. A loopy grin decorated his florid face.

Ron was what was commonly known as a happy drunk.

"Why're you ou' here when th' party ish in there?" he boisterously asked.

"And why are the two of you holding hands?"

That question was posed by Neville. In a daze, Harry looked down and was almost surprised to find that Neville was right. Still entwined with his own fingers were Hermione's. Harry stared at them, marveling at how perfectly well they seemed to fit together. He almost lost himself to the feeling, in spite of the incriminatory tone that Neville had asked the question in. Forcing himself to remember that the other wizard was practically his wife's best friend, Harry tried to work his fingers from out of Hermione's grasp before his face gave too much away.

Hermione wouldn't let him. She held firmly to his hand and took it upon herself to respond.

"Not that it's any of your concern Neville; Harry was just about to Apparate me home. Isn't that right Harry?" Her words came out clipped, precise, and as sharp as a pickaxe.

Harry turned his head to get a good look at her. She was staring Neville down, chin jutting out superiorly at him. Harry didn't know what surprised him more, her sudden one-eighty, or the chilly delivery of the reply. He had never known Hermione to address Neville that harshly; she was always so kind and patient with him when they were younger. What further disturbed him was how quickly Neville seemed to back off, almost like a kicked dog.

"Harry, your offer to escort me back to the cottage is still good, is it not?"

Brown eyes met his as if daring him for defiance.

"I...YES!" he said without further delay before she could change her mind. He realized that he simply didn't care why Hermione had suddenly decided to change her tune. He was only too happy to reap the benefit of it. He had to remember to thank Neville later.

Neville, looking bashful and thoroughly upbraided mumbled out a meek, "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry."

"Well I do!" Ron blurted. "You can' go home yet. Ish shtill early! The night's shtill young!" he whinged as he wedged himself between Harry and Hermione and threw an arm around both of their shoulders.

"Eww Ron! If someone were to light a match to you, you would go up in flames," she said reproachfully, face pinched. She even covered her nose. Harry could tell that she was only half-serious, even as she halfheartedly struggled to pull away from the hulking redhead.

Ron, holding to her tightly, looked down into her face and grinned dopily.

"Are you callin' me a poofter Mer-minee..."

Realizing his mistake, he paused as though in deep thought.

"...Her-mimi," he slowly tried again. He then smiled brightly as he mangled her name nearly beyond recognition.

"HERMA-MINI-ME!"

Harry doubled over from laughing so hard. Neville, probably still smarting from the earlier dressing down, coughed to blanket any signs of mirth. Hermione still paid each of them a disgruntled look.

"No, I'm saying that you smell like a distillery," she primly told Ron while pursing her lips cutely.

Ron took the insult in stride. He let go of Harry and wrapped her in a big bear hug, ignoring her protests. He took it for a joke, rocking her from side to side.

"Aww Herms, I've sheen you drunker. And you've sheen me drunker. And I've sheen you..."

She haughtily sniffed. "I believe we've covered this already."

Harry couldn't help but smile. It almost felt like old times; Ron ribbing Hermione, Hermione telling Ron off. If he listened hard he could almost hear a young girl and boy arguing over a strange cat or a mysteriously gotten broom. Such thoughts made him smile wistfully.

Ever the mediator, Harry approached them.

"Mate, I think you should call it a night too," he said lightheartedly with a pleasant expression on his face. "You've had one too many and you know how your Lav-Lav hates it when you get like this," he teased.

Ron looked affronted at the seeming dig at his manhood.

"I'm not shcared of my w'man!" he declared.

"Oh?" asked Harry spotting Glinda and Neville's girlfriend emerging from the pub side by side just in time to hear the conversation, especially Ron's assertion. Glinda, eyes sparkling bright with mirth, raised a finger to her lips as she caught Harry's eye.

Ron bobbed his head up and down.

"Yeah! Lav'nder knows who'sh bossh!"

"'Lo Lavender!"

For a man so large, Harry often wondered at Ron's agility under the proper motivation. While he was whirling around looking for what he assumed would be his insanely enraged fiancée, Hermione was lying back in Harry's open arms where Ron had tossed her like a toy broom.

"THANKS A LOT RON!" she yelled amidst the whooping laughter from Glinda and Neville, as well as Fred and George who had just come outside and had witnessed it all. Candide shyly smiled at the whole scene. It took Ron a moment to realize that Lavender was nowhere to be seen and that his sister-in-law had been having a go at him.

Harry tried not to chuckle. Instead he deftly raised Hermione back to her feet and set her up straight.

"Careful there Harry or Hermione will think you're trying to feel her up," Glinda jested as Fred came up next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. The twins both thought that was just hilarious.

Harry laughed along with them, although with less levity. Harry had actually very subtly patted Hermione down. He had never lost interest in finding the wand and he hadn't believed her for a moment when she explained how she got out of the loo. When the opportunity to do a quick search had presented itself he took it. Other than a slight tightening of the pants, Harry had come out with zip. Short of pulling back the neckline of her bodice and looking down the damned dress it had been the best he could do, although that was still a contingency plan as far as he was concerned. He was almost positive that the wand was concealed on her, he just hadn't figured out how. But Harry figured that he would get another chance to look once he took her home; he didn't want to risk getting caught in the act again, especially with an audience. Fortunately Hermione had been none the wiser the first time and had thought Glinda was simply making a joke at her expense. At least Harry hoped Glinda had been kidding. The fact that Glinda was still smirking in his direction and had suddenly taken a keen interest in him did not sit well. Harry casually tried to refrain from making further eye contact with her.

"Oh stuff it Glinda!" barked Hermione to her friend, cheeks pink from the innocent sounding joke. She wasn't the only one displeased with Glinda's mischief making.

"Oi Fred, you need t' tell tha' wife of yoursh t' shtop pickin' on me!" groused Ron as he looked crossly at the couple.

Ron was Glinda's usual target of mockery, mainly because he was so easy to provoke and she was so easily amused. Harry found himself exhaling gladly as Glinda turned her interest from him and on to her other brother-in-law.

Fred couldn't stop himself from laughing as he told her, "Stop picking on Ron."

Glinda looked at him as though he were speaking in tongues.

"No," she deadpanned.

Fred turned back to his baby brother and smiled gaily. "Well you can't say that I didn't try."

Everyone (save for Ron) hooted with laughter.

"So people, what is next on the agenda?" asked Glinda as she looked from face to face in the assembled party. Neville had worked his way to his girlfriend's side and was holding her hand while Harry, Hermione, and Ron huddled in closer to the group. The twins flanked Glinda. "I've got a babysitter that's charging us a mint and the kid isn't due home until morning. Freddy and I are going to make the most of tonight."

Instantly warning signals shot through Harry's head.

"Well I was just about to take Hermione home you see and..."

"But you can't go home!" Glinda said firmly turning to Hermione, cutting Harry off. "My new BFF Candy here―you've met Candy haven't you Hermione―"

The two women smiled across at each other.

"―was just telling us about this lovely little disco on Central Street."

Candide, smiling timidly as seven pairs of eyes fell on her, nodded.

"It's a Latin dance club called Bongos. I'm pretty friendly with the head doorman; his niece is in my beginner's pointe class. He's always after me to come out and bring some friends. I've only been a couple of times myself, but it's always loads of fun. They play everything; mambo, merengue, samba, salsa..."

"Ooh, I just love salsa music!" gushed Hermione with enthusiasm.

This was all Glinda needed to hear.

"There you go, you have to come now! Come on Ducks, don't be a stick in the mud! You know you want to; all the cool kids are doing it. One of us! One of us!" she chanted.

The twins, as well as Ron, looked on entertained. Harry could tell that they were all up for trying out the Muggle nightclub that Candide was talking up. To his consternation, Hermione looked equally open to the idea. Harry had a sinking feeling that he was about to lose out on getting his alone time with her.

"How pathetically sad is it that at my age I can still be peer pressured by you," Hermione said in good humor, shaking her head.

"Yay!" Glinda said excitedly while clapping her hands together.

"Wait...wait! Hermione can't go!"

Although everyone was now looking at him as though he were a madman, Harry still pressed on. He had almost had Hermione all to himself; he wasn't giving up on that so easily. He was prepared to go down fighting if need be.

"She's tired and...and...it's high time that she went home!" he continued, arguing his point. He pretended not to notice Ron's disappointed frown or Hermione's put out demeanor. He couldn't ignore the highly fascinated and amused expression Glinda wore however. It was like a kitten who had found a brand new cat toy to swat at.

Bloody fuck, thought Harry cheerlessly, all he needed now was Glinda Weasley heckling him for kicks.

Hermione had started to say something, when Glinda held her hand up.

"Let me handle this Ducks," she said first smiling wilily at Harry, then arranging her face into a semblance of a pout as she batted her eyes. "Ooh, ooh Mr. Potter sir, please oh please can't Hermione Jane come out to play with the rest of the gang; me, Freddy...the Beav?"

She motioned her head towards Ron, eliciting a chuckle from Hermione, a muttered curse from Ron, and perplexed looks from the rest of them.

"All we want to do is go to the malt shoppe to split a soda pop."

Harry could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He could empathize with Ron now; he felt foolish under the weight of Glinda's incessant mockery. She was a real ball-buster, that one. He knew that she was only trying to hector him, probably for being a stodgy old killjoy, but Harry detected something else behind the friendly clowning.

"Stop teasing Harry," said Hermione, trying her best not to enjoy his discomfort.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm not trying to be her father; I'm just looking out for her," he said in his defense.

Glinda waved him off. "Well I'm looking out for her too. A girl's got to have some fun!" She turned to Hermione. "Come on Hermione, live a little! What do you say?"

Hermione looked around at the group. Other than Harry's moue of displeasure, everyone else seemed to be agreeable to the idea.

"I say...sure, why not!" she giggled.

"Whoo-hoo!" shouted Ron, pumping his fist.

Glinda laughed merrily. "Yeah, what he said!"

Harry was beyond disappointed. Not only had he lost the chance for some precious one on one time with Hermione, he was going to have to suffer it out at some smoky, overcrowded Muggle club. If Hermione went, he went, though he could already see Ginny's livid face upon his arrival home.

He had just let out a thankless sigh of resignation when the sound of a nearby apparition cracked the air. Everyone turned to see who the new arrival was.

"CHARLIE!" chorused his three brothers merrily.

Under a lantern on the opposite side of the street stood Charlie Weasley.

"Oh good! I was hoping that you lot were still here," he called out cheerfully as he quickly jogged over to the group, settling in the space between Hermione and Ron.

"What are you doing back so soon?" asked Fred.

George grinned at Charlie lewdly.

"We figured you'd be spending the remains of the evening tucked snugly inside some lush French territory," he said while bawdily waggling his eyebrows.

Hermione tutted reprovingly. Glinda rolled her eyes at the two of them.

"Oh that's just classy," she snarkily drolled.

Charlie ignored the twins' lecherous innuendos.

"Get your minds out of the dust bin boys," he said jokingly. "Sorry to disappoint, but I was only seeing the lady home like any good friend," he made sure to emphasize the word for their benefit, "would. By the way, just whose bright idea was it to slip Bernadette the puking pastille and tell her it was a cough drop?"

Fred and George found themselves the center of the majority of the group's condemning attention.

"OI!" they both said taking umbrage at the unsaid accusation.

"A stunt like that is beneath me and George."

"No finesse at all. Only a rank amateur would stoop so low."

Chagrined, Glinda raised her hand and all eyes steered towards her.

"That would be me then. Sorry." She sheepishly smiled at Charlie. "But I would just like to state for the record that Bernadette was circumstantially the victim of friendly fire. My intended target was that heinous horse faced shrew George forced on us," she said heating up to the subject. "What was that profound little chestnut she dusted off again? Oh yes, 'If Muggles had any sense to them they would be able to do magic just like the rest of us'," mimicked Glinda in Pristine Pringle's sugary, simpering inflection. "Bitch had it coming!" she added for good measure.

Hermione agreed.

"I always told Draco that Pringle was simply too stupid to live."

"Luckily she was smart enough to realize that the vomit on her robes just did not match her troll hide pumps," Glinda said with a pleased sneer.

The fact that his date had had to call it an early evening didn't seem to faze George in the slightest. His face broke out into an easy grin.

"That Bernadette does have good aim. She's a keeper Charlie!"

"I'll put in a good word for you then," Charlie quipped with an indulging shake of his head. "So is everyone heading home for the evening?" he asked looking from face to face.

"No, we're all headed off to a hot little London spot to go shake our bon bons," said Glinda high-spiritedly, wiggling her bum. "Want to come?"

"How can I say no to that?"

"Great. Now that that's settled let's get going before we wake up old Aberforth down there at The Hog's Head and he decides to come with, eh?" Fred stated taking charge of the situation. "We'll all Apparate over to George and Ron's and from there Neville's friend can show us the way."

Everyone seemed to find no fault with the arrangement.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Need a lift?" Charlie asked as he turned to Hermione and offered her his arm. Hermione slipped her arm through it.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she said while wearing a flirty smile.

With a *pop* they were gone.

It took Harry all of a full second to realize that Hermione and Charlie were no longer standing in the spot he was gaping dumbly at.

Son of a bitch!

George let out a long whistle and shook his head in amazement.

"Blimey! Charlie sure doesn't waste any time, does he?" he joked right before disapparating with a still unsteady Ron hanging off of him. Next went Neville, his girlfriend holding tightly to his hand.

"What…I…BLOODY HELL!"

Harry was nearly left dumbstruck. It had all happened so fast.

"What just happened?!" he thunderously asked. Just what in the hell was Charlie playing at, he wondered.

Glinda, finding Harry's hacked off blustering comical, said with a smirk, "I'd say that Charlie was just quickest to the snatch, that's what."

Harry looked at her dubiously, not liking what she was implying.

Fred took his wife's hand in his and corrected her.

"That's Snitch luv."

Glinda winked at Harry.

"Tomato. Tomahto."

And then she was no longer standing there.

It was as he watched Fred and her go that Harry understood why it was never wise to assume anything in life. Standing there, all alone in front of The Three Broomsticks with the sound of Glinda's very keen and deliberate words still ringing in her wake, Harry realized that there just might be one Weasley that wasn't all that thick.

Damn.

To Be Continued...

I'm sorry that it took so long for this update but all kinds of stuff came up from second jobs to boyfriend issues to funerals. The biggest one was that I just could not turn out a chapter that I felt was good enough for y'all. As I've said I'll post an update that I'm not crazy about, but I won't post one that just plain sucks. You guys deserve better than that. Of course YMMV on how good this one actually is, but personally I couldn't love it or part B more.

A/N: Next up is the conclusion to chapter 19. I ended up making it a two-fer in my attempt to give Harry his due. Not to give too much away, a lot of stuff from this one (ie: the wand & Boadicea) gets resolved in the next. Glinda has a little fun with the Pumpkins, Hermione and Harry continue to dance around each other (literally and figuratively), and two startling admissions cause VERY interesting results. As I've called A the angsty chapter with sprinkles of fun, B is the fun chapter with its moments of angst. I hope you like it. And here's hoping you liked this one.

A few more points of interest...

1) The coronation of Elizabeth II, the second Kinsey Report, Christine Jorgensen, the polio vaccination, color television, the Nobel Prize for Churchill, the premier of the Crucible, the first James Bond book published, and the birth of Michael Bolton are all events that took place in 1953.

2) The Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta's back story is all my doing. When I started writing this one I found that there wasn't much information about either so I simply made my own. If you haven't learned by now I LOVE a good back story. LOL!

3) Romnichal is the name by which groups of Romany people(Gypsies) found in the UK call themselves in their own language, Anglo-Romany.

4) Barry Trotter is the star of a series of Harry Potter parody books written by Michael Gerber.

5) Retexilaxo is my invention although I've lost my notes on how I came up with the term. More than likely it's just a pun on the word laxative.

6) "...light made liquid...wind made solid..." is Harry's impressions of what the memories in Dumbledore's Pensieve look like. Chapter 30 of GoF.

7) "Yesterday upon the stairs..." is from the poem Antigonish written by William Hugh Mearns.

8) French translations- Je t'aime=I love you, Dans tes bras c'est mon destin=My destiny is in your arms, pour moi=for me

9) I had always intended the teens to go into the Pensieve and into the Chamber of Secrets but upon my 1000^th re-read of CoS I caught where Riddle tells Harry that he never went into the Chamber again after Myrtle's death. Still I wanted to do the scene so let's all just wank it that he lied ok? Hee. I relied heavily on GoF, OotP, and HBP to try to capture the Pensieve experience, but I did take my own liberties here and there. If Harry can actually sit on the memory of a chair he can damn well open a door. LOL!

10) Carregbryn, the Zabini/Leon estate in Newcastle Emlyn is taken from the welsh words for stone(carreg) and hill(bryn).

11) "One of us! One of us!" is a quote from one of my favorite movies Freaks.

Since I don't want you guys to go blind reading close to 140 pages all in one pop, I'll be posting part B in a few days. I also have a yahoo group where the story up to this point is fully edited of all of the mistakes; insidepandiesbox. Check it out! :)

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.