Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein Harry has a horrible dream, is late for breakfast, learns of new Death Eater attacks, reads some urgent mail, and has a long talk with Remus; Hermione receives a summons, learns some unexpected news, and has a request for Remus; there is an accident at the D.A. meeting; and Harry goes to a reunion of sorts.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Chapter 44 - Second Thoughts

As they trundled down the Astronomy Tower stairs, Hermione was still keyed up from her discovery of a comet. Harry was keyed up from his encounter with Draco Malfoy. Each was even more keyed up by the other's presence.

The O.W.L. that hung over their heads since their return was over. The call of their mutual attraction, first interrupted by Professor McGonagall and most recently by Professor Tofty, was all the more insistent through repeated frustration….

Even though it was after 2:00 a.m., the last thing either wanted was to spend yet another boring, lonely night in the Gryffindor dormitories.

"Harry, do you still have the Headmaster's summons?" she asked as they reached the bottom of the tower stairs. Hermione had this mischievous, almost feral, look in her eye.

"Umm … yeah," Harry said. He fumbled about until locating it in his robes.

"Give it to me," she demanded, "and follow my lead."

He did, and the two broke ranks from the rest of the Sixth Years at their first opportunity. Almost immediately Argus Filch challenged them.

"And where do you two think you're going at this hour of the night?" he growled. "I'll have you…."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Hermione retorted, in the haughtiest voice she could muster. She flashed her badge. "I'm a Gryffindor Prefect, and this is Harry Potter. He has an urgent appointment to see the Headmaster," she waved the parchment with Dumbledore's characteristic ribbon under the Squib caretaker's nose, "and I'm his escort."

Filch flinched. He was suspicious that the Headmaster would see anyone at this hour, but these two being who they were, giving them a pass was less bother. "Go on, then, but be quick about it," he waved them off dismissively.

"You…. You lied to him," muttered Harry, astonished.

"Oh no, I didn't," Hermione replied with a naughty grin. "Everything was true - at some point. He just didn't ask when your appointment was, and I didn't volunteer."

With that, she took him by the hand and led him through the darkened halls of the Castle in an unfamiliar direction. "This isn't the way to Dumbledore's office," Harry accurately observed.

"No it isn't, but I've something to show you," she said excitedly as she squeezed his hand. "When we were all looking for you, the Headmaster gave me this." She produced a large, golden key. "With everything that's happened since, nobody's bothered to collect it."

"What's it a key to?" he asked, as they slowed and turned down another hall he had never seen.

The words had barely left his mouth when they stopped at a door that Hermione knew well, but Harry knew not at all.

She moved very close to him, almost flattening him against the door, and whispered in his ear, "The key to the gates, Harry." She began kissing urgently, almost mauling his lips. Her silky hair tickled his neck.

Harry moaned and took her into his arms when the kiss broke. "I don't get it, what gates?" he answered lazily, captivated by her fiery eyes.

"You will," she responded hotly, giving him a tantalizing nip. "Think Astronomy. Try Venus, or perhaps some other heavenly body."

Her key turned in the lock, the heavy oaken door moved, and Hermione all but shoved him inside. Whirling about as he backed his way in, Harry saw a long, dark room dominated by a huge table that loomed in the gloom. Harry got a only fleeting glimpse because, after a brief pause to lock the door, Hermione was all over him, urging him through a second entrance on the far left-hand side.

He felt out of control as zealously she pushed him off balance. Hermione seemed to know exactly where everything was. In an instant, they toppled together into a soft bed by a large oriel window. Hermione rolled atop him and looked intently into his eyes. "I said, that sooner or later you would be mine," she purred from all fours. "And now's sooner…."

With that, she dropped down on him fully and hungrily claimed his lips.

At the taste of her, Harry let out a long groan that merged into a growl. He started giving as well as receiving. His hands moved under her jumper, and then under her blouse. The two pawed at one another, and somehow or other one item of clothing and then the next went flying through the air or slithering off the side of the mattress.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry - you don't know how long I've wanted this," Hermione mewled between gasping breaths as at last she felt his bare skin. "I'm of age now, and I swear, if you even think about stopping, I'll hex you!"

She squirmed whilst divesting him of his few remaining garments, until her pawing had left him naked to the stars that shone through the window. She touched him. He growled even more deeply. He touched her, she moaned even more heatedly. Their hearts were racing. Their bodies yearned to become one.

"What are we doing, Hermione?" he asked as she ran her tongue over his nipples. It felt so exquisite, it was almost painful.

"If you don't know by now," she replied ardently, beads of sweat beginning to glint on her forehead, "I guess I'll just have to show you…."

She rolled over, pushed off of his chest and straddled him. Harry gasped. Hermione intended to initiate the act herself.

"Make me a woman tonight, Harry," she cooed at him, her eyes almost closed as she concentrated on her - and his - desire.

She wiggled into position, and….

In an eerie reprise, a blinding flash erupted and the window blew in, showering them in bits of glass and twisted strips of lead. A Death Eater screamed, "Stupefy!" The stunner hit Hermione foursquare in the back, and its force knocked her off of him and onto the floor.

Harry groggily flicked his wand into his hand, but before he could utter any coherent spell, a second Death Eater paralysed him with Petrificus Totalus, and then hit him with some kind of binding curse. It constricted his chest as he impotently struggled against it.

The first Death Eater threw off his mask, revealing Draco Malfoy's sneering face - the same expression he had earlier worn atop of the Astronomy Tower. Dismounting his broom, he reached into his robes and pulled out a metre-long Muggle object. Harry had seen one before, whilst in captivity.

"And now you get what you so richly deserve, you insufferable Mudblood slag." Bending at the waist, Malfoy turned the object on Hermione - now out of Harry's sight on the floor - and moved towards her.

Harry screamed with wild, deadly rage. The Death Eaters' magic could no longer restrain him. No magic could restrain him. The constricting spell that confined him audibly tore away. Just as he flew at Malfoy, a torrent of water hit him in the face…..

Sopping with frigid water, Harry thrashed about half-awake. He sent his alarm clock flying, and further ripped his already tattered bedsheets to shreds. Quills, bits of parchment, his magical CD player, and his wizard sponge bag all fell from the headboard as Harry violently flailed away at the demons in his head.

Finally realising where he was, he lay still, breathing hard and fast. Reflexively he felt his scar. Nothing. It was another entirely homegrown nightmare.

"Oh Merlin, that was - awful," he groaned wearily as he tried to calm his feverish mind.

Thankfully, the Silencing Spell he cast over the bed curtains after his last similar incident remained intact. At least that spared him further embarrassment in front of his dorm mates - unlike the previous time he had erupted.

Harry tried taking stock. The dream had seemed so real - and most of it had been so delicious.

After the Astronomy O.W.L. ended, Hermione snuggled into his side, just as in the dream. Drawing close to his ear, her breath hot on his neck, she had whispered something decidedly immodest. Then she showed him this key she had…. That much had been real, but….

Damn that Mad-Eye Moody.

Hermione had just begun to explain the details of her plan for them to "slip away to celebrate my emancipation." That ended abruptly when they encountered the ex-Auror at the base of the Astronomy Tower staircase. Unfortunately, he also happened to be Harry's guardian (by Harry's own request). Thus Mad-Eye justifiably presumed to tell Harry what to do. Mad-Eye had been at his paranoid best (or worst) - full of suspicions that Death Eaters might attempt an attack to prevent Hermione's eclipse of their Master's old O.W.L. record.

To the vast amusement of other snickering Gryffindor Sixth Years, Mad-Eye insisted on personally escorting then both every step of the way to the Gryffindor common room. Protests by the two frustrated and mutinous teens were met with Mad-Eye's litany of dire possibilities - each seemingly crankier than the next. Deflated by losing yet another chance for quality time with his new girlfriend, and with his adrenaline at rock bottom, Harry had flopped into bed and….

"Oh bloody Hell! Accio alarm clock."

Harry had quite forgotten to set his alarm clock, and thus overslept.

Everyone would be heading down to breakfast. Shaking the remaining cobwebs from his brain, Harry exhaled loudly and clawed away the tattered remnants of his sheets. Freeing himself, Harry stumbled through his bed curtains, still dripping from the Fluvius Charm that successfully woke him before another uncontrolled magical discharge could cause any serious damage.

He came face-to-face with Ron, who was straightening his tie before leaving for the Great Hall and his morning meal.

Ron immediately went red in the face and almost doubled over laughing at the sight of him. "Blimey Harry. That must have been one Hell of a wet dream. Sorry about last night - but you bloody well picked him as your guardian. I'll see you downstairs, mate."

Summoning his scattered toiletries, Harry staggered to the bathroom. Only when he encountered his reflection did he grasp what a fright he was. The mirror agreed. "My, my, you must have seen far worse than a ghost," it remarked. "Did you shower in your nightclothes?"

"Sod off, you glass arse," Harry growled, in no mood for banter with an ostensibly inanimate object. He splashed steaming hot water across his face and started to shave.

Regarding his gaunt - and increasingly foggy - form, Harry leaned hard on the edge of the porcelain. He forlornly dropped his eyes into the basin and sighed deeply.

His nightmare…. He had seen far worse than a ghost - any ghost.

`If I go through with this,' he thought, `I'll get her killed, as surely as I did Eliza.'

What little appetite Harry when entering the loo had vanished completely before he left. He sat on the edge of his bed, listlessly trying to repair his bedclothes when what he had half expected happened.

It began with a pounding on the door. "Harry, are you in there? Are you all right?" Hermione's voice rang out. Even in his present state, there was no mistaking the concerned edge to her otherwise typical questions.

"I'm fine," he called back. "Just overslept, that's all. I'll be down in a minute."

"You don't sound fine," she perceptively replied. "If you're in there blaming yourself for last night's Death Eater attacks, I'm coming in after you! You've two minutes."

Death Eater attacks!?!

"Oh, shite!" Harry yelped. "What now? I'll be right out…."

Dispensing with anything nonessential, Harry started waving his wand and dressing magically. He handily, if somewhat inelegantly, beat Hermione's deadline, and opened the door.

Hermione's insistent embrace nearly toppled him over. "Oh I'm sorry, Harry," she wailed overloudly in his ear. "I was terribly insensitive to break that kind of news to you so flippantly. It's just that I blame myself. After the publicity, I shouldn't have gone ahead…."

All through her explanation, Hermione clung needily to Harry. As her face drew ever closer to his, he was acutely conscious of being jammed rather uncomfortably into an angular doorway corner. After a quick glance hither and yon, she moved to kiss him like she had at the end of last night's exam. Harry flinched at the last minute - and not just from the doorframe's pointed contact with his thoracic vertebrae. Instead of their intended target, Hermione's lips plowed into his not entirely clean-shaven cheek. Surprised, she desisted.

"What is it, Harry?" she complained.

He answered in his usual articulate fashion. "Umm … this isn't really a good idea, is it? In public and all?"

Harry's professed concern fortuitously materialised at precisely that instant. The Creevey brothers hove into view - partially at least, as they were non-magically lugging a large box inscribed "Faneuil's Fabulous Foe Glasses - quantity, six" up the stairs to one of their dormitory rooms. Seeing Hermione in Harry's arms, Colin dropped his end of the box in embarrassment, sending the box (and Dennis) crashing back down the stairs.

Colin promptly disappeared after it.

"You didn't seem to mind at all last night," Hermione said slightly miffed. She slipped an arm around the back of his neck as if to make ready to try again.

Keeping his lips out of reach, Harry replied gloomily, "I'm not sure last night was all that great of an idea either."

"Rubbish," Hermione answered dismissively. "Everybody there knew or suspected we're together, and I'm so tired of hiding how I feel about you. I did it when you were with Cho - and with…. And I very nearly lost you."

Seeing Harry's stricken expression, Hermione changed course in mid-rant.

"Anyway, the `public' be damned," she continued. "They'll just have to get used to it. The only thing last night that wasn't a good idea was your going after Malfoy like that. It was unnecessary and uncalled for. That - and of course my ever deciding to take that stupid retest. I'd already passed."

A stricken expression flowed across her own face. She stopped, her lips quivered, and she burrowed into Harry's hastily thrown-on robes, trying relatively successfully to stifle her ragged sobs in his chest. As before, her hands insistently clutched at him.

"Er … Hermione - it's okay. It's not your fault," Harry murmured uncomfortably. Awkwardly, he patted the distraught girl on the back. `I'm still no good at this,' he thought.

Hermione was guilty of an accusation she often threw at Harry - blaming herself for everything. After quite a few seconds, each one seeming rather longer than it should, she appeared to be calming herself in his arms. `You're better than you think,' she Legilimenced.

Finally, Harry felt he could chance the obvious question, "What happened, Hermione?"

"Umm … Come downstairs, it's - it's in this morning's Prophet," Hermione told him hesitantly. "I've arranged some food for you, too, since it's gotten so late," she added.

When they reached the common room, Hermione caught Ron, Dean, and Cormac McLaggen red-handed.

"Ron! All of you! Get away from there, I fetched that for Harry," Hermione shouted.

Dean protested, "But there's more here than anyone could eat … even him." He gestured towards Ron. The redhead only laughed and took another handful - because Dean was surely correct.

Hermione was, however, a Prefect - and a scarily powerful witch on top of that. Thus, the three boys moved away from the still substantial pile of food. With his mouth full, Ron gestured at her and mumbled, "Good kippers. White pudding could use a little more sweetening, though."

Hermione cracked a semi-smile as she rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she exclaimed as she led Harry to the mound of food on a gold tray.

Addressing her, Ron added, "You've got a note." He pointed to the table. "Right there. McGonagall wants to see you during your first open period."

"Damn," Hermione muttered as she collected food for a still rather unenthusiastic Harry and found her copy of the Prophet. "There goes another chance…."

"What chance?" Harry asked absent-mindedly before he took in the headline. He nearly spat out what he was chewing, and promptly forgot about everything else.

"ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF FUDGE; EXAM AUTHORITY DESTROYED," the thirty point font screamed.

"Merlin's bloody beard, what happened last night?" he blurted.

"I did, I'm afraid," Hermione almost wailed. "Because so many Aurors were guarding the Castle during my stupid, egotistical pursuit of that unnecessary academic record, they were spread too thin to cover things elsewhere. From the Prophet's description, I suspect the Death Eaters attacked Fudge as a diversion, and once the Ministry's reserves were committed, their main group flattened the Testing Authority to send a message - to me…."

Her quavering voice trailed off completely at the end.

"That's a topper of a strategy," Ron commented, his mouth finally clear of food nicked from the tray she had set out for Harry. "How'd you figure that?"

Hermione looked at the redhead with stricken eyes. "They did the same thing to spirit Harry out of Malfoy Manor that day we thought we would rescue him," she answered softly. "I was there - I saw it."

Ron scowled - precisely because he had not been there. He needed no reminding that was been sulking in his tent (or at least various other locations) whilst she had accompanied the unsuccessful raiding party on what was hoped to be a rescue of his best friend. "I would have gone, if you'd just told me," he muttered.

"I know you would have," Hermione snipped at him. "But Dumbledore wasn't allowing messages. And there wasn't time. We were too late as it was…. They were ready for us. I wish you'd been there. You fly better than I. Maybe you could have convinced Dumbledore to bring my broom."

"Doubt it," Ron replied whilst still sounding unhappy. "From what Harry's told me, the thing would have bounced me right off."

Ron obviously had thought about that day more thoroughly than she had. "Sorry, Ron, you're right," she admitted.

"For once in my life," he remarked testily. "A bloody milestone." He swiped another couple more kippers and left in search, presumably, of Cho.

Hermione sat down beside Harry and rather carelessly threw her left leg over his right. Again Harry flinched at her rather mild public display of affection. Hermione noticed, but refrained from commenting about how the past month had forced her to reexamine her priorities. Neither did she remove her leg, however.

"So they wanted the Testing Authority," Harry sighed. He roughly flung the Prophet across the table. It spun off and disappeared over the other side. "They had to make an example of you, didn't they?"

"I'm afraid that's what they do," Hermione replied, with a pensive look in her eye. "But to me, it was only a message. The examples were those unfortunate enough to be in the Testing Authority that late at night. That's some fifteen dead. Fifteen people dead because I had to go and try to beat Riddle!"

"Hermione, you can't blame yourself for what the Death Eaters did," Harry told her gently.

"Mister Pot, meet Miss Kettle," Hermione replied sarcastically. "But if I hadn't got it into my head that that trivial record meant so much."

"It didn't seem so trivial last night," Harry reminded her. "I can't remember the last time I saw you just so plain happy."

"No, it didn't," she admitted, although in truth Harry was as much the cause as the O.W.L. "But that's the problem, actually. If I hadn't wanted it so much…."

"But you did want it, I could tell," Harry responded. "It's all right for you to fancy something for yourself, you know."

Hermione thought over what Harry had said. She also reviewed his conduct towards her this morning, compared to the night before. She stood and gathered her things. "You're right Harry," she sighed. "I only hope that you take what you just said to heart."

Harry did not focus, at least not on what she intended as the deeper meaning of her remarks. "So how'd they get into the Ministry this time?" he asked resignedly.

"It wasn't there," Hermione told him. "The Testing Authority moved to its own facility some time ago, supposedly so the powers that be would have less opportunity to influence the results…. It was located in what was once the County Hall Island Block near Waterloo. That's a crater now. The building itself - a horrible concrete pile the Muggles were only too pleased to get shot of - was no great loss. It's the people that matter…. The Prophet says the Ministry's calling it another a gas main explosion. Been a lot of those lately…."

"Better than a plane crash," Harry muttered.

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes; then threw her arms around him. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been awful haven't I?"

"No you haven't, and you hardly need apologise to me for feeling guilty about some such," he replied, as he tried prising her off. "I've been known to do that myself, as I recall…. You've the right to be as brilliant as you can be. Voldemort had none to stop you."

She looked at him through still watery eyes and Legilimenced. `Whatever else happens, you know I love you, right?'

"So much it scares me," Harry whispered into her ear.

Hermione drew back, feeling both gratified and concerned. Sensing all the eyes on the two of them, she straightened herself out and said, "Now I have to see if I can catch Ernie or Su - to borrow their notes for the classes we missed. I'll see you in Creatures."

With both sadness and longing, Harry watched her leave.

Before she reached the portrait hole, a red-faced Colin Creevey reappeared. He was out of breath - as if he had sprinted up all the movable steps from the Main Hall - which indeed he had.

"Harry…," he gasped, huffing and puffing. "You … never made it to breakfast…. You've just had a couple of important owls…. We thought you should see … these personally…. Here…." Colin thrust the parchments at Harry so emphatically, he lost his balance.

A surprised Harry caught him. "All right," Harry responded whilst accepting the papers, "but what are you doing with my post?"

Colin looked befuddled, so Hermione - who had stayed to watch the exchange - interrupted. "Colin and Denis are still sorting your mail," she explained. "There's been even more of it since you've been rescued. You didn't have time to be bothered, so I asked them to carry on."

Harry accepted Hermione's justification without question or comment. Instead, he tore into the top letter. It bore an official Gringotts logo and was sealed in the goblin fashion. Reflexively, he shook his head.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, as she moved back towards him.

"Never mind me, then," the Fat Lady protested. "I'll just hang around…."

Realising that she, a Prefect, had left the Gryffindor Tower entrance wide open, Hermione immediately made a hand gesture, and the door closed smartly. The display of wandless, silent magic did not go unnoticed among the few housemates (mostly seventh years) who had not yet left for classes.

He shook his head. "They want me to schedule the - the reading of Sirius' will - now that he's officially been pardoned. Damn, I don't want to do that."

"Merlin knows I'd rather you not," Hermione agreed, "but you have to. Blood money or no, it's yours now, and neither of us can do anything about that. If even I can come to terms with it, so can you." She gave him a peck on the cheek. His putative fortune was something else his absence had forced her to reassess. If they could make this work, the "independent" part of "independently wealthy" was worth the candle.

Harry frowned in resignation. "You're right as usual."

Morosely he flung that letter onto the table. It skittered across and floated out of sight on the opposite side, following the Prophet to the floor. Harry's curiosity spiked whilst opening his other post, which was private correspondence from the Minister of Magic himself.

"Damn," he muttered again….

Hermione started massaging Harry's shoulders. One consequence of all the weeks they spent apart was that she now had difficulty keeping her hands off of him. It went beyond making up for lost time. Knowing how he felt about her had been a revelation….

But at the moment, he was so tense. "What's wrong now, Harry?" she asked tentatively. Whilst her hope of him melting into her embrace went unrealised, he did seem to loosen up. Harry shifted to make the base of his neck more accessible.

"It's.… It's the Minister. After the usual rubbish about congratulating me for my escape, he wants me to approve this draft programme for the Order of Merlin Award Ceremony on Halloween. I didn't want to do that for Fudge. And this Scrimgeour - Dumbledore says he's even slipperier a politician than Fudge was. It's bad enough, with Sirius dead. I don't want to be kissing any politician's bloody arse."

Hermione scrutinised the proffered schedule. Six Ministry speakers capped by the Minister's own twenty-minute address did seem a bit much. "Yes, he'll use you too," Hermione observed, forcing her voice to stay calm. "That's what someone in his position has to do - but you're not helpless, you know. Exactly who kisses whose arse is open to question."

If Harry had been paying more attention to her - rather than to her touch - he might have sensed the wheels turning. "S'pose so," he replied blankly, "but I don't want anything from him. Only that the Ministry fights against the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore says that, at least on that, Scrimgeour isn't the problem Fudge was."

"But you do want something, Harry," Hermione reminded him gently. He turned and looked questioningly into her eyes. They shone brighter than before. "You've said so yourself. And I think you can get it. Don't forget, things have changed since … since everything happened - first to you, and then to me. In between, Sirius has been officially cleared of everything Fudge's regime sent him to Azkaban for…."

"Do you really think?" Harry broke in.

"Sure do," she went on. "You know, with Fudge sacked as Minister, Scrimgeour shouldn't have any good reason to continue the cover up of Fudge's mistakes."

Harry's eyes widened as he caught the drift of her logic. "That's bloody fantastic, Hermione! I'll do it! It can be part of the ceremony. Er … you don't think any of the rest will mind, do you?"

"Of course not, Harry," she reassured him. "We'll all support you if need be. I'm sure of it. He died trying to rescue all of us." She paused as a new thought crossed her mind. "Just be sure to talk to Remus first. After all, they were best friends."

Care of Magical Creatures passed relatively uneventfully - if any lesson featuring a hissing two-headed Runespoor could be called uneventful. Hagrid tried to move matters along by prodding the riled up animal with his brolly. In response, it spit venom everywhere. That hardly bothered Hagrid, clad in his usual creature-resistant clothing. But Parvati suffered second-degree leg burns (and a thoroughly ruined pair of Muggle nylons) whilst Ernie Macmillan lost a set of new school robes.

Afterwards, Hagrid called the Trio aside and informed them tearfully that Aragog, the elephantine spider he had released into the Forbidden Forest more than fifty years ago, was ill. "Raised `im from an egg, and now there don' appear anythin' I can do," he admitted. Given Aragog's advanced age (for an arachnid), Hagrid justifiably feared that this illness would be fatal.

Ron, seriously arachnophobic even before his terrifying encounter with Aragog and his prolific progeny, found it extremely difficult to express much sympathy (real or feigned) over this news. As soon as decently possible, he made his excuses. Somewhat to Ron's surprise, Hermione left with him - due to her summons from Professor McGonagall. That left Harry to try his hand at comforting the half-giant who had introduced him to the magical world. The task was difficult because, in truth, his views hewed closer to Ron's than Hagrid's on this subject.

* * * *

At the soft scrape of her office door, Professor McGonagall looked up from marking a pile of third-year Transfiguration parchments, "You may enter. It's not charmed."

As she expected, Hermione Granger strode into the room, precisely on time. But Professor McGonagall did not anticipate the girl would unburden herself as she did - physically.

Clunk.

Hermione resignedly placed the golden service tray she had used during her fortnight of swotting for Harry on the edge of the professor's desk.

Clinkity, clinkity, clinkity, clink.

A soft rattling sound followed as she produced a gold and silver Time-Turner, its chain making the noise as it snaked down onto the tray.

Clack.

She laid the golden key to the guest flat on the tray next to the Time-Turner. Several other items followed, including an Auror-issue panic button that the professor did not recall ever seeing before.

"I'm sorry, but with all that's gone on, I forgot to return these," Hermione explained.

"Oh, is that why you thought I summoned you?" her Head of House asked. To Hermione's surprise, she did not seem pleased with this turn of events.

"Maybe not entirely, but yes," the girl responded.

"Well it wasn't," the professor replied curtly. "I hadn't forgotten. When I inquired, the Headmaster seemed quite unconcerned about you retaining those items indefinitely. But since you've brought them to my attention, I suppose the rules require that I lay claim to them. Except for the Time-Turner, which I think you should retain for another week until you can catch up with your studies. Your circumstances were certainly extreme enough to justify that accommodation."

"Oh, thank you," a surprised Hermione replied. "Can Harry have one too? His circumstances were even worse than mine."

"Not to revisit our prior disagreements," the older witch replied carefully, "but you came much closer to dying than he did - twice. Nevertheless, should he make such a request, in person, I shall allow him to have one, but subject to the same limitations as yours, and for the same purpose. These must be used exclusively to make up time lost from academic pursuits. Since Time-Turners must be individually calibrated, he must present himself."

"I'll ask him," she said evenly. With Professor McGonagall in a relatively generous mood, she wanted no arguments. "But why summon me, if not to collect these overdue borrowings?"

"As head of Gryffindor House, matters concerning your family fall to me…."

The girl's frantic voice cut across her. "Daddy's dead, isn't he?" she gasped, on the verge of breaking into tears.

"No. Thankfully news of that magnitude is the province of the Headmaster," Professor McGonagall hastened to add. "But one of the matters does involve him."

"In custody, then?" she interrupted again.

"No, I'm afraid not," the professor sighed. She was making a lot of allowances for this girl.

Quite relieved, Hermione slumped into her chair and watched Professor McGonagall stride purposefully to the office fireplace. She reached into the House Cup, removed a handful of the Floo powder she kept in it. Once the flames turned green, she called, "Remus Lupin."

Hermione expected only the former Marauder's head to appear in the fireplace. She was surprised with the door clicked and the man himself entered. He looked slightly peaky, which she attributed to the full moon being a bit less than a week away. She rushed to embrace him, saying, "Oh Professor Lupin, it's so good to see you again."

Returning the hug, the werewolf smiled a tired smile. "That's Remus, Hermione, and the pleasure's entirely mine. I really mean that. There were times when I almost despaired of ever seeing you conscious - or even alive. You…, you and Harry both, once again exceeded my expectations."

She smiled and let go, but although she returned his smile, it failed to reach her eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked directly.

He sighed. She could tell he was tired - and not just from an approaching full moon. "Up front, you should know that I can't tell you anywhere near everything, but I'm more or less the Order's forensic accountant right now. I follow the money - Voldemort's money. That's why I've been away so much recently. Anyway, after the news of your father's predicament broke, Professor McGonagall asked me to take time out from my other investigations to see if I could trace your father's whereabouts through his financial dealings. I did for a while, but the wolves were called off, so to speak, after your accident. But then, when I got the blessed news that you were all right…."

"Harry came for me," Hermione interrupted. "Remember to thank him."

"Believe me, I intend to," Remus answered, a vague, far-away look on his face. "But for the moment, I need to talk to you. Your father beat me to the punch."

"WHAT!?!" Hermione shrieked. "Take me to him, please!"

"Can't. His locale remains just as unknown as before," Remus tenderly replied as the girl's face fell once more. "However, this morning Professor McGonagall received a delayed letter from him through an accommodation address. He pulled out a plain white business-sized envelope from his robes. "This was sent to you care of the post office box Hogwarts maintains for mail from Muggle parents. It contains a letter and a bank draft - a substantial bank draft."

A bland mask fell over Hermione's face as she accepted the letter from Remus.

Dearest Pumpkin:

By now I'm sure you are cursing me for my crimes. I can't deny it. Whatever Fleet Street claims I did, they're undoubtedly right about most of it. Please understand it was only partly to feather my own nest. I was born with nothing, and I'm content to die with nothing, but I could never stand for you or Eva being reduced to penury. I admit, my methods stank, but my heart was in the right place.

So it wouldn't be sequestered, I pulled the money from our accounts. Now, I'm sending it to you. The enclosed bearer draft should be convertible almost anywhere. Please take care of your mum with it. I can't any longer.

I love you, and I'm sorry. But I soiled my bed and have to sleep in it.

Love always,

Daddy

She examined the "pay to bearer" bank draft that accompanied the letter. It was drawn on the Canton branch of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation. "Oh Merlin, this is for more than four million pounds," she gasped. Then her shoulders slumped. "I wonder how much of it's dodgy."

"All of it, I reckon," Remus hesitantly answered. "It was easy enough to trace. This money is from a joint account also belonging to your mum. Most of it's undoubtedly from the sale of that house - I'm sorry, your home - to the Order. I doubt your mum even knows it's gone missing yet."

"That's why he wants me to look after her," Hermione stated as she contemplated the position she now held. Pausing to make up her mind, she fidgeted whilst the adults watched expectantly. Biting the corners of her lower lip, she turned to Remus and asked a question that had been troubling her for weeks. "Did Mum have any part in what Daddy did?"

"None that I've been able to establish," Remus answered, looking slightly happier than previous. "And I've gotten pretty good at what I do - so I think I'd have spotted anything dodgy on her part. Investigating this was child's play compared to how Voldemort handles his Galleons."

"Can you give it back to her in a way that can't be seized, but so she won't know that Daddy did this?" Hermione asked.

"Without too much trouble, yes," Remus replied. "Banking in the Far East is … well … rather flexible."

"Then please do." Hermione asked. "I don't want it, and I don't need it. Mum does if she's to have any chance at a new life in Australia."

Remus sought confirmation. "Are you sure? That's an awful lot of money."

Hermione smiled a tragic smile. "As sure as I can be. I really don't think I'll be wanting for money. I hated Harry's inheritance when it happened, and in many ways I still do, but ever since I learnt what - I'm sorry professor, but what I'm going to say is true…."

"Call me Remus, please."

"I'm talking to Professor McGonagall," Hermione corrected.

"Oh."

Turning to face her Head of House, Hermione explained, "I'm sorry, but ever since I discovered how Headmaster Dumbledore and you - sabotaged - my efforts to find Harry, I've become more accepting of … that money. I've had to think over a lot of things. I realise that I trust him more than anyone. I never wanted to be dependent on anyone, but for him I'll made an exception. That money lets me do things like this.… Something I consider right … without having to worry about the consequences to myself."

At first, a frown betrayed Remus' discomfort with Hermione's explanation, but his expression had gone unreadable by the time she was finished. "I guess congratulations are in order then," he said, surprisingly flatly.

Hermione returned a somewhat restrained smile of her own. "Yes, I think so. I hope so. It took mutual near-death experiences, but I think we both know how we feel about one another now - if we just don't mess it up again."

"Then I'm honoured to do this," Remus continued. "For the both of you."

He turned to leave, his part of the conversation completed more pleasantly than he had anticipated. "Oh, and Remus?" she called after him. He turned. "Please be sure to talk to Harry before you go. I've asked him to talk to you - it's important."

He looked at the girl oddly, almost as if afraid of what she was telling him.

"He should be the one to tell you, not I," Hermione reiterated.

After Remus departed in search of Harry, Professor McGonagall moved to the second reason for her summons, "Now, you need to decide what to do about your mum. Her missteps are indeed grievous. Those lurid press stories about you being held against your will - because of Potter - were most ill advised. But she has earnestly sought to make amends, as much as she is able. She refused to leave. She's waiting to hear from you, and you should see her, even if you'd rather not."

"She loves me," Hermione observed softly. "She was terrified by what had happened. I can't say I would have done anything less, had I been in her shoes. All she sees is magic killing her only little girl. And she wasn't very far wrong."

"So you do realise the seriousness of what happened," McGonagall stated, reverting to her Head of House voice.

"I don't want to revisit that," Hermione replied in a voice almost as stiff. "But, yes, I do. Harry has told me everything. I'm even more convinced now than ever that I did the right thing."

"So you know then," the professor asked considerably less imperiously.

Hermione eyebrows briefly rose. "I suppose you do too?" she asked. It was a question only in form.

"Albus told me," Professor McGonagall replied elliptically. "He had to; otherwise he would have been engaging another Deputy." The necessary information having been exchanged, the original purpose of their conversation resumed. "But about your mum…."

"She's safe, isn't she?" Hermione asked worriedly. "With all the Death Eater activity, a lone Muggle in our world…."

"She's quite safe," Professor McGonagall reassured her. "The Order took care of that."

"Then I need to see her," Hermione answered quickly. "I have at least to try to get through to her. I need - I need her - to accept what I have done. I need her to accept … this." She held up the hand that bore Harry's Auror ring. "I may die because of Harry, but I wouldn't be living without him, either."

"I had hoped you would see it that way," one former Head Girl addressed her odds-on successor enigmatically. "Of course I can arrange a reunion. To my mind, that was the primary purpose of this meeting."

The rest of the meeting dealt with the logistics of that reunion. They agreed that it would take place the following morning, at Order Headquarters, and would last as long as necessary. Since tomorrow was a Saturday, there would be no academic conflicts. When their discussion finished, Hermione was more than a little surprised that the Deputy Headmistress rose to walk her to the door.

She was even more surprised when, at the door, McGonagall took her hand and pressed something into it - something familiar.

"I think you should retain this," the older woman said. "It may come in handy on some enchanted evening."

Hermione looked into her hand, and then at her Head of House. "You mean you want me to…?" The older woman saw the shock and surprise residing in her eyes.

"I don't want you doing anything of the sort," the older woman replied, her inflection shifting back to her mode of addressing students. "Nothing that you wouldn't do on your own, anyway. However, when the Headmaster told me everything, he did make a request. I am complying with his wishes."

She spoke the last sentence with such finality that Hermione knew at once that their meeting was over.

* * * *

Still finding it rather difficult to believe all that had just happened, Hermione immediately went in search of Harry. It was lunchtime, but her boyfriend - oh, that word made her feel marvelous, even if things remained maddeningly tentative - was nowhere to be found. She did find Ron, resident at the Ravenclaw table with Cho.

"Hi, Cho," she said a little too brightly, "coming to the D.A. meeting tonight, I hope?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said with a smile. Hermione noted that she squeezed Ron's thigh as she was speaking. "Ron says we'll be doing post-N.E.W.T.-level Levitation Charms."

Ron blushed, but Hermione took no offence at the preview. The Trio had discussed the curriculum a bit - at Harry's request - and had settled on the weight-altering charms from the summer Auror training as an appropriate skill to teach. That Ron had mastered them quickly suggested that the others would too.

"I've been practising," Ron affirmed, "so I'll be ready to help you two. Watch," he pulled out his wand.

"Ronald Weasley, if you make me feel fat again, I will hex you - when and where you least expect it," Cho threatened, although her smile betrayed her true intentions.

"You wouldn't do that," Ron laughed. "You fancy me too much the way I am." He tried to kiss his girlfriend, as she giggled and made a big show of half-heartedly fending off his advances.

"Get a room, you two," came someone's complaint from down the table.

Ron looked up at Hermione. "Anything I can help you with?" he asked.

"I'm looking for Harry. Have you seen him?" she asked.

Ron gave his friend an appraising look. "I hope you find him. I was sitting with him earlier, over there," he gestured towards the Gryffindor table. "He was being a bit of a git about things, and I told him so - told him he was being a sorry excuse for a Gryffindor, actually. He didn't like that, but he needed to hear the truth. Then Lupin showed up, and they went for a stroll together. He said you told him to talk to Harry."

"I did," she answered. "It's about the Order of Merlin ceremony. There'll be some changes to the programme, I reckon. Anyway, I'll leave them to it. If you see Harry before Potions, tell him that I'll bring his book and things for him."

"Don't worry," Ron said as she got up to leave. "And don't worry about me either. I've got the Prince."

"You're in such good hands," Hermione replied sarcastically, noting where Cho's hand has crept whilst they had been talking. "I'll leave you to them, too."

* * * *

Harry and Remus took a long walk. Instead of eating lunch, they ambled most of the way around the Castle as Harry explained how he wanted to add a memorial to Sirius to the Order of Merlin award ceremony. Remus was pleased and gratified that Harry wanted his Godfather (and Remus' best friend) remembered in such a fashion.

Remus readily agreed to participate and to present the eulogy. The older man was unsure exactly what he wanted to do, but promised that it would be something to make Sirius proud. Because there was no body, they agreed to inter Sirius' remaining memories instead. As those memories all involved encounters with Snape, neither cared to examine them more closely.

Remus also served as a voice of reason moderating Harry's more extreme flights of fancy. He recommended, first, that Harry not demand that the Ministry award Sirius an Order of Merlin. When the boy proved adamant, Remus advised Harry to settle for a Third Class award (which fit precedent, particularly since Sirius was a private citizen - indeed a fugitive). In return for the award, Harry further agreed to acquiesce in just about anything the Minister otherwise wanted concerning the content of the ceremony, including (especially) the Minister's own undoubtedly overly long speech.

By the time they had hammered out a workable memorial plan, the two found themselves on the old wood and stone covered bridge that led from the Castle to the back end of the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology greenhouses beyond. In Harry's third year, he had a serious chat there with Lupin. It was time for another.

Looking somewhat furtive and out of sorts, Harry confessed, "I'm scared, Moony. I'm so scared. I've brought her back, but for what? A fate worse than the one she condemned herself to?"

Remus was caught unprepared for this sudden outburst of emotion. "What? Who? You mean - Hermione?"

"No, Moaning bloody Myrtle," Harry spat. "Of course I mean Hermione. I've finally told her the truth - everything. I had to. She wouldn't have come back otherwise. But she'll just be marked. The Death Eaters, they'll kill her … horribly. I-I-I'm afraid I can't do this…."

"Harry, of course you can. I don't know the details, but I know what the Order is all about. I used to think we were here to support Dumbledore, but now I think that we may be in business to support - well, you, actually."

"You don't know, then," Harry observed. "I think you need to. It's that prophecy that was in the Department of Mysteries…."

Remus jumped back, alarmed enough to train his wand on the boy. "Harry, stop, please! Don't tell me anything about that! I'm not … safe."

Harry said no more, but looked at the werewolf sceptically.

"You see, my condition," he explained sadly. "Whilst I have some favourable physical attributes, mentally the wolf in me makes me … weak. What I do for the Order…. I could be captured, and if I were, well, I'm not very resistant to Legilimency. That's why I've learned to keep Dementors away from me. I can't let them get close either - at this point, I'd collapse. So, you see, I'm nothing more than a glorified accountant for the Order. If Voldemort caught me, the only serious secrets he'd be able to get out of me what he already knows - his own financial dealings. I can't know something like the prophecy. I'm too much of a security risk."

Harry listened mutely to Remus' account. He shook his head and replied resignedly. "All right. I didn't mean that, anyway. I meant…. I meant that I - that I can't be with … Hermione. I can't be her boyfriend. It's … just … too dangerous…."

Harry had been choking up throughout his last statement. When he finally fought his way to the end of the thought, he whirled away from Remus and grabbed hold of one of the covered bridge's squarish support pillars with his bare right hands. Squeezing the corners of pillar fiercely he shook himself violently, all the while without saying a word.

"You really love her, don't you?" Remus said softly.

Harry could not even give a coherent answer. He simply gritted his teeth and squeezed the quartzite stone harder. His hands began glowing softly blue. Remus noticed a small rivulet of sand cascading onto Harry's shoes.

"Harry, stay under control," Remus warned as he silently drew his wand. The older man waited, however, and finally Harry stopped.

"Y-y-yes," the boy whispered just loudly enough for Remus to hear.

For his part, Remus was almost stunned speechless. His own condition had forced him to similar conclusions on more occasions than he cared to think about. "I - I know how you feel. I'm worse even … as a werewolf I can't let myself…. You're not that, though, at least you're in a position to protect her."

"Protect her? I can't even protect myself," Harry moaned, still clutching the pillar, but this time for support. "All I do is destroy things."

Remus did not know what to say, because he did not know what Harry meant. He spent most of his time overseas, and Dumbledore handed out information on a need-to-know basis.

Still he tried. "Harry, you know you're in love with her. You told me that. You told Bill that. Love is the opposite of destruction. It's what I wish I could…."

Harry stood up straighter, and began supporting himself again rather than relying upon the cold stone of the covered bridge. "Do you remember - when I burned you - after the dinner at Hermione's?"

"Yes, you'd had an awful dream," Remus replied. "But that was all it was."

"In that dream, Voldemort tried forcing me to rape Hermione," Harry replied in a voice again dropped to a whisper. "But it's worse than that now. They killed - Eliza in front of me. Now they want to rape and murder Hermione at the same time. I overheard them plotting it … whilst I was captured. And now that's in my own dreams. I can't let it go."

"You had another dream?" Remus asked.

"I had another dream - without Voldemort's help - and it was worse," Harry confessed. "If it weren't for this contraption I'd rigged up, I've no idea what might have happened."

"I'm - I'm afraid I don't follow," Remus admitted.

"I love her more than anything - far more than my own life," Harry declared whilst his hands raked his hair. "Threats to her set me off, and I'm … dangerous."

"Harry, I…."

"No, just listen," Harry cut him off. "When Hermione came for me, I blew up a whole valley - who knows how many hectares of it - just to keep Voldemort away from her. If Death Eaters ever tried anything like that in front of me, I don't think I could control myself. If I went off at Hogwarts, there wouldn't be any more castle. I destroyed a castle in that valley. If it happened in London…."

"It could be worse than the aeroplane crash, that's what you're saying," Remus offered.

"You have no idea," Harry replied, emotionally wrung out. "It could be worse than the whole bloody Blitz at once. I could - destroy most of a city. That's just what Voldemort would want, to use me to massacre more Muggles than he's ever dreamed of killing at once. Then he could finish me easily. I'd have nothing left to live for with her gone."

"Well," Lupin exhaled loudly, "that certainly changed things…."

Like a tsunami on a clear, calm day, despair swept over Harry, throwing him for a loop and then sucking him down in a cold undertow. It was everything he most feared - about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and about himself. Visions of horrible events surfaced from the darkest corners of his past and polluted his churning thoughts with their foul excrescence.

Harry knew that his most noble reactions - his overwhelming desire to protect the one for whom he had overwhelming emotions - also turned him into death personified. He had done it before, and it could happen again. A threat to her safety could release enough power not only to kill her, but also bystanders by the thousands, maybe millions. He could become not merely a killer, but a mass murderer comparable to the worst in history. In the end, Harry worried, he was just fated to spread pain, suffering, and desolation wherever he might be.

How could he even think of loving her - of loving anyone, for that matter? He could not hope for any kind of reasonable existence with her. He had to be realistic. There was no future, no family, no happily ever after waiting for him.

His whole life was defined by other people being killed on his behalf - his parents, Cedric, Bill, Eliza, those Aurors who tried to rescue him. All had died, because of him. If he stayed with Hermione, he signed her death warrant, and not only hers but potentially the lives of anyone within … what was it, an almost ten kilometre radius?

It would never be over - he could never be normal - until Voldemort was gone, and maybe not even then. Surviving Death Eaters would seek revenge upon him, and would target her to get to him. It would never, ever, truly be over.

His legs no longer willing to support him, Harry slid down the wall until he sat, with his knees folded against his chest, on the filthy floor.

"Go ahead," Harry rasped. "Tell me how I'm overreacting - how I should follow my heart. All the boloney about how I need to harness the power of love and all that. Tell me how much of a fool I am."

"I can't," Remus replied sadly.

"You can't?" Harry replied, looking blank.

"Harry, I'm a werewolf," Remus pointed out. "I'm not in your league, to be sure. I don't have the power to destroy the City. But just like you must deal with what Voldemort did to you, I have Fenrir Greyback's legacy staring me in the face. If I let anyone love me, I'd put her in mortal peril. Every month I become a violent killer. I've had the same conversation you're contemplating. More than once - and quite recently, in fact."

Now Remus Lupin was tearing up. Harry had not expected that. He thought the werewolf was contemplating somebody in particular, but he respected his privacy.

"I've pushed away everyone who's ever tried to love me, except the Marauders. That was only because they became Animagi for me, and I couldn't hurt them in that form. They were friends - but not lovers. I can't have a lover because of my condition, because it would be too damn dangerous. So that's the long and short of it. I can't tell you that you're wrong. I'd be a hypocrite if I tried."

"She'll hate me, you know," Harry choked out, as Remus sat down beside him. "She'll scream and cry and use everything that brilliant brain of hers can manage to change my mind. She'll accuse me of lying to her if she thinks it would guilt trip me - and maybe she could…. Except…."

"Except what?" Remus commiserated.

"Except … at the end of the day, there's nothing she can say or do," Harry answered. "This isn't a danger she could escape by learning to become an Animagus. She barely made it the last time, and Voldemort was much nearer to me than to her."

"Well, there you are," Remus said starkly, "there's only one way out."

"That is?" Harry asked. Before the distraught werewolf could respond, he answered his own question. "I have to kill Voldemort first."

"You have to do in Voldemort?" the werewolf said, with a hint of sarcasm slipping into his voice. "Only then can you live happily ever after. Is that what you believe? Do you really think the Death Eater threat will end with Voldemort? Or that it began with him? You picked Mad-Eye as your guardian, didn't you? There had to be a reason."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Moony," Harry was quick to apologise, "I would have picked you if I could."

"That's not what I meant," Remus replied uneasily. "I know full well why I couldn't do it, and I'd have refused even if the law were different. What with your declaration of magical equality, and your connection to Hermione, the war effort didn't need the additional baggage of your having a werewolf for a guardian. We need the pure-bloods too - those we can reach. No, I'm perfectly happy you picked Mad-Eye. But, tell me, why did you?"

"Well," Harry thought, "he's tough enough to keep me in line, and barmy enough to take the job. But mostly it's because the Weasleys were so hurt when Bill was killed. I tend to lose people whom I'm close to. I couldn't do that to anyone else."

Lupin stared at the dark mossy underside of the covered bridge's ancient roof. Exhaling loudly, he continued, "Mad-Eye's fought in a lot of wars, you know. He fought Grindelwald. He cut his teeth fighting the Dark Legions before that, around the turn of the century. He's been an Auror almost as long, and he'd probably tell you the same thing."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"That there's too much danger in his line of work to justify exposing anyone else to it," Remus replied, shaking his head. "He's never been married either - never even had a serious dalliance - at least as far as any of us knows. That's why he's all alone right now, why he met the criteria you established for a guardian."

"Actually, I was thinking of talking to him about this, too," Harry admitted. "So he'd agree with you, and me, you think?"

"I'm certain of it," Remus answered, still shaking his head. "We're both examples of the same choice, if that's what you want - to end up like me or Mad-Eye. That's the path you're headed down."

"But you just told me that there wasn't any other choice," Harry observed.

"You said that, not me," Remus replied softly. "There is another way."

"Then I bloody well hope you'll tell me, because I must be pretty damn thick," the boy shot back, his ears going pink. "I don't care how hard it is - I'll do anything. I-I love her that much."

"I don't have to tell you because you already know," Remus said softly. His face bore all the earmarks of tragic sadness.

"I don't," Harry said again.

"You do," Remus replied. "You're here, aren't you?"

Harry thought. His eyes grew wide. Then tears started to flow again. So quietly that Remus could scarcely hear him, he murmured, "Mum and Dad."

"That's right," Remus answered with a sniff. "They were the golden Gryffindors - the Muggle-born Head Girl and the pure-blood Head Boy who publicly defied Voldemort. The parallels should be obvious."

"But they … died," Harry pointed out the obvious.

"But before that, they well and truly lived," Remus added sadly. "And they blessed us with you."

* * * *

Hermione was anxious and on edge as she made her way to the Room of Requirement to prepare for the D.A. meeting. Harry had been so distant since his talk with Remus - even though their plans for turning her idea of a memorial ceremony for Sirius into reality sounded simply smashing.

Come to think of it, he had been curiously unresponsive ever since his emergence that morning. Maybe her honesty policy - telling him immediately about the Death Eater attacks - had not been such a good idea. But the attacks were prompted by something she had done, and she had wanted, and needed, him to comfort her. That's what boyfriends were supposed to do, especially this one. He had said as much.

But now Harry was not saying much at all. He hardly spoke a word to her all through Potions, and worse, not once had he reached out to touch her. Worst of all, when she touched him he stiffened and went tongue-tied. After class, he had agreed - unenthusiastically and seemingly out of some sense of duty - to go to Slughorn's next "Slug Club" soirée on Sunday night. Even though she was standing right next to him when the invitation arrived, he made no attempt to ask her to go with him. It took Professor Slughorn to do that. Surprisingly, Harry had not seemed visibly pleased at the professor's suggestion.

She was running late. She had hoped to get to the Room a full half-hour ahead of time; because Harry said he wanted that much lead time. But duty called. She was a Prefect, after all. An escaped copy of the Monster Book of Monsters, and having to sort out an altercation between a couple of Fourth-Year Hufflepuff girls and several Second-Year Slytherin boys had delayed her. The spell damage was hardly serious - a couple of frog legs and stray tentacles in odd locations - but still it took some time to reverse.

When she finally stepped into the Room, she found Harry hard at work. He had most of the folding chairs already spread out, along with dented cauldrons, fireplace tools, and other assorted objects they would use for this evening's lesson. She heard a hissing sound. Dobby was inflating balloons from what looked like a tank of helium.

Whatever her doubts, her heart melted when she saw Harry, bent over and moving several stone cobbles around - wandlessly. He was facing away from her and had not noticed her arrival. The door to the Room had not made any sound when she entered.

This time they were not in public. There was no reason not to…. She stole up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The heavy blocks dropped to the floor.

"Hi there, lover. Sorry I'm late," she purred.

She released her grip just enough to let him spin around towards her. The two of them faced each other and smiled. "Whatcha doing," she asked, almost intoxicated from finally being close to him - alone - after such a long and frustrating day.

He smiled back at her, but it was an odd, sort of far away smile. "Just practising some wandless magic," he said. "I've arranged almost the whole Room that way. Oh!"

Whilst he was talking, Hermione had slipped her arms back around him - underneath his robes - and her hands had gone into the back pockets of his Muggle jeans. She had just given him a little squeeze.

"We're not in public anymore," she said breathily to him. "I want you … I need you … to kiss me. Now."

With that she started kissing him, nipping at his lips and trying to gain access to his mouth. For what seemed like the longest time Harry just stood there, almost robotically, neither responding nor trying to stop her. At last, he started to react, bringing his arms up to her shoulders. She prayed that he was about to pull her towards him rather than try to push her away.

She never got the chance to find out.

"I know what you're up to," a voice called out. "Get a room."

"We have," Hermione replied, somewhat out of breath. "It's just that you're in it."

Harry had jumped back, but Hermione refused to release him entirely. As a result the two of them ended up side-by-side, facing the door. One of her arms disappeared around his midsection inside his robes whilst one of his arms was slung across her shoulders. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville had arrived. Ginny, who thoughtfully sounded the warning, was smirking. Neville was red-faced. Ron eyed the two of them curiously. Luna was her usual serene self.

"S-S-Sorry about that," Neville stuttered. "We can come back…."

"Oh, stop that nonsense," Ginny demanded. "The more the merrier," and she started to snog Neville, who responded by nearly fainting dead away.

"Harry, you're still a git," Ron joked. "I know what a girl looks like when she's been right and properly snogged - and that isn't it. What do I have to do with you two? Lock you in a ruddy broom closet until you both get acquainted the way you should?"

Hermione tried mustering a suitably affronted scowl for Ron, but failed miserably - because she frankly agreed with him. She broke into laughter as she eyed her best friend who was not her boyfriend. "Care to make good on that threat, then?" she challenged.

She felt Harry stiffen again. Casting a quick look in his direction, she saw that he looked mortified.

"Oh, let them be," Luna remarked airily. Harry was about to thank Merlin for befriending the odd Ravenclaw - until she added, "They'll get there at their own speed."

"Speed don't kill, mate," Ron added slyly.

"Well," Harry began nervously, "should we get on with it then?"

He stopped when Ginny started sniggering and Hermione squeezed his side. Only then did he get how that had sounded. "Er … I mean the D.A. that is."

His head whipped around towards Hermione, as he received a Legilimenced comment from her. `We need to talk,' she communicated.

`I guess you're right,' he sent back. He should have known he could not fool her for long. She was just too observant - and he, too obviously tentative. He thought about Remus. The werewolf had been so sympathetically downcast about the type of conversation Harry was contemplating. Harry imagined he might be downright suicidal after actually going through with it himself.

`I just … need to make sure that we're still on the same page,' she added.

He nodded. There was nothing more he wanted to say just then. His heart ached, he loved her so much. But Voldemort…. She had to be safe.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a very odd voice saying, "Hello, Ronald, a Knut for your thoughts."

Ron must have jumped a foot in the air. "What the…. Luna! What are you doing?"

Holding a half-deflated balloon, Luna had snuck up on Ron. At his reaction, she dissolved in squeaky laughter that sounded more like Dobby choking on a biscuit than Luna Lovegood.

Ron was giving the Ravenclaw girl a very sideways look when Hermione, trying to keep a straight face, told Luna to, "Stop playing with the helium. You're scaring the poor boy."

This D.A. session was even more crowded than the last - stressing the Room of Requirement to - and beyond - its magical capacity. The sudden and mysterious return of the D.A.'s leaders, in Hermione's case seemingly from the dead, attracted almost every non-Slytherin in the school. The same Potter fan club that turned out in force for the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts was out even more forcefully this time. The D.A., unlike house Quidditch, was quite publicly open to all.

Hermione fretted - not about the fan club; she was secure about Harry's affections - but about possible accidents in the crowded conditions. One reason she had chosen relatively simple weight modification charms was that they were safer than actual duelling spells in close quarters. But things were so cramped that even these charms had their risks.

Harry climbed up on top of a large, solid oak table that had so helpfully appeared. "Everyone, if I could have your attention please. I'd like to get started…."

After making Hermione's announcement about everyone signing in, Harry began what he hoped would be a demonstration that would convince many of the newcomers that regularly attending D.A. meetings would be worth the bother - especially as the homework piled up.

"I showed you my Patronus last time, but so you don't think that I'm having you on, I'd like to show you my mates' handiwork tonight," Harry began. "My friends can tell you, I think, how these lessons helped them on their O.W.L.s…." A murmur of assent rose from the Sixth Years present. "…But seeing is believing. I'd like to ask the other … Boom-wins … to show what they can do."

Towards the back of the crowd, Cormac McLaggen grimaced.

By prearrangement, Ginny and Neville went first. They clambered onto the table - which expanded to accommodate both them and Harry - and drew their wands.

"This one's for you, Ginny," Neville said happily, looking at the red-headed girl who had recently walked into his heart. "Expecto Patronum!" A silvery long-horned ox exploded from his wand and tromped about over the heads of the collected students. Before anyone expected it, Ginny's cry of "Expecto Patronum!" also rang out. A silver fox joined Neville's ox in gambolling in the air.

"Think I can get your extra credit this year in my O.W.L.s, Harry?" the fiery witch asked the master of ceremonies.

Harry didn't say anything, but Neville interjected, "Well you're certainly foxy enough."

"Oh, very good, the both of you!" Hermione cut in. "What more do we have Harry?"

"I'll get to you," he replied, mistaking her enthusiasm as desire to demonstrate her own skill. "But first we have Ron - and Luna - if you want to that is." Hermione had told him about the others' Patronuses, but he just that instant realised that she had never mentioned Luna.

Even before his sister and her boyfriend had gotten down, Ron was climbing up in front of the crowd. Luna simply floated up, having placed on herself one of the anti-gravity charms they were about to be practising.

Ron waved to Cho, who was towards the back of the crowd, before confidently producing his Patronus - a silvery Jack Russell terrier - adding a superfluous wand flourish after the spell was technically complete. Ron's terrier sprinted around the room and came to rest on his girlfriend's shoulder and appeared to be licking her ears. Of course, that was an illusion.

Everyone turned to Luna, who had her wand out in front of her, but otherwise remained motionless - staring into space.

"Luna, are you all right?" a concerned Hermione inquired.

The question seemed to focus Luna, who nodded in her direction. She almost lazily pronounced the spell, and something silver flew out of her wand as well - to the questioning looks of everyone.

"Luna," Ron asked perplexedly, "how did you mate a ruddy duck with a ruddy beaver?"

Hermione was just about to explain, when the distinctively accented voice of Luna's fifth-year housemate Macquarie Palmer boomed out, "Yo, you Pommy figjam, that's no bloody mutant, that's a platypus - we've got `em in Oz."

At first Ron scowled. Then he burst out laughing. "You mean that thing's real?"

"It's just as real as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack," Luna sniffed.

Hermione thought it significant that one of Luna's housemates actually came to her defense. That would never have happened last term.

"All right, all right," Harry broke in. "If she says it's real, it's real. And now, Hermione, if you'd come up."

She extended her hand. Harry briefly looked nonplussed, but instinctively reached out and grabbed it. Using him as leverage, Hermione popped herself up beside him, not letting go of his hand until hearing comments from the crowd.

Oddly, Hermione had more trouble than the others with her Patronus. Her first two attempts did not produce anything corporeal. Harry was going to let her stand down, but she motioned him to be still. The third time she looked directly at him, repeated the incantation, and her wand produced the desired silvery rocket of magic.

The newcomers oohed and aahed, but most of the returnees just stared. That was no otter streaking overhead. Somehow, Hermione's Patronus had changed. The otter was gone, and she conjured an altogether different, altogether magical Patronus - a phoenix. Only the "Boom-wins" amongst them knew why that had happened.

`You've … you've changed, Hermione,' Harry Legilimenced to her.

`Yes, in a lot of ways, I suppose' she responded. `I couldn't go through everything that happened and still be the same person I was. I'm not afraid of anything anymore; not disapproval, not even my own death. That's the phoenix effect.'

With the crowd distracted by a Patronus in the shape of a magical creature, she blew a kiss at him. `Don't you be afraid either, especially not on my behalf.'

His confidence somewhat shaken, Harry nervously cleared his throat. "Er … that was amazing Hermione. I've never seen a Patronus be a magical creature before. Now, I showed off my Patronus last time, but now you know that, with work, a corporeal Patronus is within everyone's reach. With all the Dementor attacks, it's more important than ever."

Hermione then took over. "Now Harry's going to demonstrate a little more of what elemental magic is all about."

"Okay," said Harry. "This elemental stuff …er … supposedly it's best done wandlessly, but I'm not all that good yet, so here goes…."

"Good" is in the eye of the beholder. As far as everyone else was concerned, Harry put on quite a show. Using his wand, he caused a tulip to grow visibly from a just-planted bulb and bloom. He made it rain - inside the Room. Just before that scattered the crowd, he switched again and dried his audience with a warm breeze. He focussed on one of the cauldrons until he melted it. Finally he just pointed to a random spot of empty air in front of him and concentrated. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the spot briefly started to snow. That stopped. After another short period of seemingly nothing happening, with a clunk and a hiss, something else froze out.

"Dry ice," Hermione commented as she watched him closely.

Harry smiled at her as he kept his wand trained on the same spot. After a few more seconds, some pinkish flakes precipitated out, and almost instantly hissed away.

With a louder clunk, a relatively large chunk of something whitish or maybe clear (if it had been smooth) dropped to the floor, where it steamed mightily. As that happened, more air rushed to fill the void, and there was a pop almost like an Apparition.

A second pop followed maybe half-a-minute later, as something else solidified - light blue, this time. It also fell to the floor, where it hissed nastily as it likewise evaporated rapidly.

Then Harry stopped. Hermione could tell he was very tired. She eyed him thoughtfully before moving towards him. "That's all," she told the crowd without further explanation. "Now everyone, please find an object and a partner, and start practising the charms I've written on the slate board."

As she spoke, behind her a large board filled with instructions materialised.

"We will be circulating to help everyone out."

Hermione took Harry's hand and bade him to sit down. Luna helpfully brought some Pepper-Up Potion, which he drank avidly. "You should have stopped after the argon, Harry. You're exhausted," Hermione tutted.

"Wouldn't have meant anything if I had," Harry puffed out his answer. "But you're right. I'm not in any shape to tackle one of those balloons yet."

A half an hour later Harry seemed perfectly chipper as he circulated amongst D.A. members - both new and old - whilst they attempted dramatic changes in the weight of the various practice objects that lay scattered throughout the room. Heavy blocks and miscellaneous pieces of furniture went floating in the air. Helium balloons came crashing to the floor with resounding thuds.

Harry had just finished adjusting the wand technique of a couple of Hufflepuff Fourth Years. Hermione was nearby, having intercepted Romilda Vane. The Potter fan girl had deliberately imitated the Hufflepuffs' incorrect wand movements in the hope of getting personalised instruction of her own - just not from Hermione. As the Romilda stalked off in a huff, Hermione could finally ask Harry the question her fertile brain had formulated about his recent demonstration.

"Harry, just how cold can you go with that elemental magic?" she asked cautiously.

"Don't know really," Harry responded. "That was as far as I ever…. Hey…!

A loud banging noise occurred as a floating folding chair got away from one student and collided with somebody else's hovering fireplace poker. Harry looked to his right. Hermione drew her wand and started to scream something…. A blinding yellow spell streaked upwards only inches from his face. Then, nothing…. The lights went out, and the Room of Requirement vanished.

* * * *

It seemed he had been walking for hours over a gently rolling but blasted and sodden landscape. Splintered trees loomed out of an eerie mist that clung to everything. If time passed, nothing seemed to change. He trudged onwards in perpetual twilight - neither night nor day. Mud squelched as he stumbled from hollow to hollow, trying for spots of solid ground that did not appear recently churned up by some violent force. The air was heavy with odours of death, decay, and just a touch of sulphur.

Each time he topped a rise, he gazed upon a new, but depressingly similar scene. Harry half expected to see piles of mangled corpses, but never did. He seemed totally alone.

At long last, he heard something. Stopping in his tracks, Harry listened intently.

He heard it again - something alive somewhere off to his left was making some sort of noise.

Harry turned in that direction. Picking up the pace, he picked his way through scorched and battered hedgerows. Surmounting yet another hill, he looked around and saw them. Four shadowy figures, gathered about a roughhewn, candlelit table next to the caved in and burnt out remains of a farmhouse.

They must have been the only survivors of some horrible, titanic struggle. Harry rushed towards them.

When close enough to make out their faces, he came to an abrupt and complete halt.

"Harry, how good of you to drop by, glad you could make it," a cheery voice greeted him.

"B-B-Bill?!?" Harry stammered. He moved forward to shake his late guardian's hand.

"My first bit of advice?" Bill replied with a welcoming smile, "at least close your mouth so the Bumblewurts don't fly in. They're always pests this time of year … even worse with all of this disruption."

Another occupant of the table - lanky with almost shoulder length black hair turned towards him, "I know what you're thinking, `Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot.' Pull up a chair and all will be revealed. Care for some wine?" He held out an elegant, crystal goblet that seemed absurdly out of place in these primitive surroundings.

"Sirius, stop that," a brown-haired figure half-heartedly chastised. "He's not of age yet."

"Oh, sod off Cedric," the older man replied with a laugh. "You're old enough to know better, but still young enough not to care, aren't you Harry."

"Actually, I've sworn it off," Harry replied.

"Hah," Cedric exclaimed. "I knew it."

Harry had stopped listening though. No longer too stunned to move, he had thrown himself at Sirius and given him a tremendous hug.

"Whoa, son," Sirius responded to Harry's embrace. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

"Tea, then," Bill offered. The wine bottle and wineglasses disappeared, replaced by several mugs and a steaming pot of tea. By this time, Harry had released Sirius. The boy claimed a cuppa and sat down.

"Oh, codswallop," Sirius shot back at Cedric as they resumed their previous bickering. "He's more like his father than he'll ever be like you - goody two-shoes, Prefect swot…."

"I'll be the judge of that," the fourth figure spoke in an oddly flat and nebulous voice. Harry almost thought he was looking into a mirror - except for the eyes.

"D-d-dad?"

"That's Dad to you; Prongs to Sirius; James to the newcomer; and Mister Potter to our straight-and-narrow friend here," the image of Harry's father replied. Whilst his voice was hazy, his image was not. James appeared identical to the dashing, sharply dressed, groom-to-be in Harry's favourite picture from the book of Potter family photographs Hagrid had given him.

"I don't … believe this," Harry choked out. He moved towards his father's image and gave the older man a tentative hug. James reached out and crushed the boy to his chest.

"Harry, I've waited so long to do this … for you to come to me like this," James said into the boy's ear.

"Wha…? What's going on?" Harry finally moved himself to ask. "How come you don't sound like the others?"

"What's going on is that we're memories, and you finally wanted to have a chat," James explained. "You conveniently took leave of your senses, and here we are. You know what these blokes sound like, but nobody's yet figured out how to make wizard photographs talk. Since you've never been to the old family manor, you don't know my voice. Bloody shame too, but once you're seventeen, you'll inherit, and our fearless leader will have to let you visit."

"Why…? Why haven't I seen you before…?"

"Oh, you have, in countless dreams, no doubt," Sirius answered. "At least that's what Bill here thinks. But those dreams were just that - you don't remember them upon waking. When you asked for Prongs' and my help before, we gave it. Passing strange that you're thinking of ignoring it, though."

"We told you what to watch for; it happened; and I'd have thought that'd be the end of it," James chided his son gently. "I love Mooney like a brother, but his perspective on some things is unfortunately rather skewed. You must have your doubts too, or else you wouldn't be here - or we wouldn't…."

Harry had been thinking, and not entirely paying attention. "Is - is Mum here, too?" he asked.

"Certainly," James answered. "I never go anywhere without my better half, if I can possibly help it. I don't feel whole otherwise."

"Takes her sweet time about it, though," Bill laughed.

"You know how she is when asked to render assistance," Sirius remarked knowingly.

Bill replied, "Actually I don't - it was before my time."

"Mine too," Cedric echoed.

"Just don't have her appear in that damned Muggle wedding dress," James warned. "All lace and crinoline, `In the family for generations,' she said. So ruddy delicate it was, she wouldn't even let me use magic on it on our wedding night…."

"I heard that," came a female voice from inside the ruined farmhouse. Like James' it was maddeningly generic and unaccented - the kind that recited instructions on a thousand telephone voicemail systems.

"Er … rather too much information," Harry responded.

"I rather like that kind of information," Sirius commented, waggling his eyebrows.

"That's because you're a dog," Bill responded.

"Woof," Sirius responded. "Alpha male, don't forget."

"I heard that too," repeated the female voice.

"How - How did you … and I … get here?" Harry asked again. "And where's here?"

"We're memories. We've always been here for you, and for anyone else who remembers us," James answered in that disconcerting voice of his. "`Here' is wherever you've chosen to keep your memories."

"Could make do with a better interior decorator, you could," Sirius commented. "This is altogether too desolate - looks like a battlefield, and a thoroughly fought over one at that."

"Still, it's better than before," Cedric allowed. "It's lighter now, and he's not flitting around anymore."

"Wait, wait," Harry pleaded. "You mean I can summon a memory of anyone I want and actually talk to them?"

"Well, as long as it's someone who's dead," Bill answered, "and then you have to go and get yourself knocked unconscious somehow. We can be summoned through dreams, but then we're limited. We can't talk back."

"Oh, I see," Harry realised. "But you said someone's no longer here. Who?"

"You Know Who," James answered.

"Who?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Voldemort," everyone save Cedric said in unison. The Hufflepuff said "the Dark Lord."

"Wanker," Sirius referred to Cedric.

"Oh, that You Know Who…. But, he's not dead," Harry accurately pointed out.

"Well, he's not exactly alive either, we don't think," Bill explained.

"And the usual rules don't seem to apply to him," Sirius added.

"Or maybe he wasn't a memory," came the female voice. "Maybe he was something else." The lustrous image of Lily Potter hove into view, dressed in her red and gold edged Hogwarts graduation robes - her Head Girl badge glistening.

"M-M-Mum…," Harry choked out, as they walked towards one another. "I … don't know what to say…. I just wish you could have been there - for everything…." He tentatively reached for Lily's hand.

"Oh, no you don't," she said, her green eyes flashing. "I want a hug from my boy, too. I've waited long enough."

With that, she hugged him fiercely. Harry's knees started to wobble as he felt his mother's love for the first time in many years.

Reluctantly, they separated. Lily took Harry by the hand and led him back to the rest of the group. Bidding Harry to sit in the only remaining unoccupied chair, she plopped into James' lap and gave him a moderately chaste kiss.

"Woof."

"Who's a wanker now?" Cedric commented.

"Takes one to know one," Sirius answered, gaily pointing a finger at Cedric.

"What could he be, if not a memory?" James answered, obviously respectful of his wife's intelligence.

"That I don't know," Lily answered, flicking her husband's messy forelocks with her index finger. "Something Dark, I suppose, that resembles a memory. I can't even say I'm right, but it could bear looking into - and Harry knows someone topnotch at looking into things."

Harry still looked puzzled. Bill tried to explain. "Anyway, the number one rule seems to be that only memories of the dead appear like this. Don't know why, but it's probably a good thing. Otherwise, we might see Wormtail or even Snape in here."

"I don't care if they'd be memories or not, I'd still have a go at tearing them apart," Sirius spat, whilst glowering darkly.

"Here, here," James added.

"Second the motion," Cedric remarked.

"Now don't be so hasty," Lily chided. "I'll have you know, neither of them is very happy in their present circumstances. Peter can't stand working for Sevvie, and Sevvie would rather be anywhere than in Voldemort's inner circle."

James stiffened noticeably. "I wish you'd stop calling that git that…."

"…Sevvie this and Sevvie that," Sirius growled. "He deserves anything he gets. Once a Deater, always a Deater, I say."

"And how do you even know that, my lovely wife," James asked whilst gazing lovingly into her eyes. Their devotion to one another was so blatant that Harry almost felt jealous.

And he was planning to do exactly what to Hermione?

And why was that?

"Harry isn't the only one who summons my memory, my dear," Lily revealed. "They both call to me regularly."

James frowned, and a scowl disfigured his face. "You shouldn't go to them," he said flatly.

"Harry, the next time you see either Wormtail or Snivilus, will you kindly kill them for me?" Sirius requested. "Oh, yes, and my charming cousin as well…."

"Sirius, I don't want my boy to grow up a killer. You know that." Lily protested. "No more than I wanted James to become one. There has to be a better way. That's why I made you rescue Sevvie - even after he said all those horrible things to me. Oh, and speaking of not being hasty, come dear, it's time to make your maiden appearance…."

Eliza Brookings hesitantly stepped through the crumbling farmhouse doorway. She looked fetching indeed in the form fitting blue jeans and pastel orange spaghetti-strap blouse that she had worn on her first date with Harry, after she had told him all she knew about the Black inheritance.

"Thank you, Harry," Eliza spoke to the thunderstruck boy. "I quite feared that you might remember me as I died. That would have been - embarrassing."

Upon seeing her, Harry instantly stood up, knocking over his chair in the process. He did not try to hug - or even touch - this woman. "Eliza, I'm so sorry. I-I-I can't believe you're actually thanking me for anything. By all rights, you should hate me. I was … caught off guard, and couldn't protect you. You were…." Harry paused, and fought for his composure. "…under the Imperius…."

Everyone at the table gasped, except Eliza, whose eyes flashed angrily. "Harry Potter, you stop that this instant. You always blame yourself for what's not your fault. I was an independent actor, you hear me. I chose to be with you, knowing the danger. And what I did, I did of my own free will. You are worthy of love Harry! Don't you dare think you're not. This gathering is proof enough of that. And it wasn't until … right near the end … that I did anything that was against my better judgment."

"And just how embarrassing would that lack of better judgment be?" Sirius inquired, giving Harry a wink.

"Shut up, Sirius," Bill answered for her. "I saw a bit. On an embarrassment scale of one to ten, I'd say it warrants about a nine point five - a perfect ten if it had happened a minute later."

Harry's jaw dropped. "H-H-How did you know, Bill?"

"I'd like to know that, too," Sirius commented.

"You are truly a dog," Lily observed.

"Woof."

"For a brief moment Harry remembered Miss Brookings' death and mine in the same thought," Bill explained. "That was enough." Then he turned to Eliza, "I'm sorry. Bill Weasley. We've never been introduced, although I feel I know you - Harry did talk of you, a lot."

"Eliza Marie Brookings. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Favourably, I hope," she responded.

"Quite," Bill replied. "Although with respect to the matter presently before the group, I'm afraid that you did come off second best."

"I know that," Eliza admitted. "I always knew that. I never asked Harry to reciprocate my feelings. There are some things one just can't compete with."

"Er … Eliza…?" Harry haltingly broke in. "…If you're - not too embarrassed, I'd really like to know … what you did that was against your better judgment. It would put my mind at ease to know that the rest was … really you, and not the curse. I hope that … taking me in after the … the … what happened with Hermione … was really you … and not … you know?"

Eliza gave Harry one of her warm smiles. "It was, Harry. Everything up to then was. Everything. The only matters I've thought better of were the marijuana and then trying to have my way with you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sirius cut over. "You smoked pot, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry answered, not looking at him. He was not particularly proud of that - and the result had been beyond disastrous.

"Well, all right!" Sirius exclaimed, raising one hand in James' direction. Weakly, Harry's father outstretched his palm, and Sirius gave him the high-five. "Not a dull boy, after all. Not like that one." He glanced at Cedric. "…but a true Marauder."

"Oh, Sirius, stop your blather," Lily upbraided him. "You know that was a bad idea…. Just look what happened."

"It was a bad outcome, not a bad idea," Sirius answered. "What's the bee under your bonnet? You indulged, too."

"Only very occasionally, and only because of you lot," Lily returned fire. "And we called a halt to it entirely when James started his Auror training."

"She's right, Sirius, and you're wrong," Harry seconded in a dull voice. "If I've learnt one thing from all this, it's that I can never, ever let my guard down with Voldemort about. That's why I've given up anything alkie as well."

"So you're the infamous Sirius Black?" Eliza asked the roguish looking man.

"The same. I don't stand on formal introductions, but I'd stand for you - if Harry would permit it."

"You're such a dog, Sirius," Lily laughed. "Pay him no mind, Eliza; he's never been able to stop flirting, not even now. I believe he's trying to prove that there really is life after death."

"Woof."

"You're the one who started all this, then?" Eliza continued, looking Sirius straight in his laughing eyes. "You're the reason we've been gathered here."

"How do you figure that?" Sirius protested. "It was the bloody Deaters what killed you, killed me, and it's the bloody Deaters who've got poor Harry here on the verge of ruining his life."

"True, but if you hadn't left all that money to Harry, I never would have had a chance," Eliza explained. "He would have been so deeply into Hermione Granger by the point he met me - assuming he ever met me at all, which is doubtful - that he never would have given me a second look. He told me as much the day we first met."

"But … but … but if I hadn't done that, look where the money would have gone," Sirius sputtered.

"I didn't say that it wasn't necessary," Eliza replied, "only that it was a `but for' cause."

"`But for' cause?" Sirius echoed.

"I'm a legal transcriptionist," Eliza explained.

James had been watching Harry closely whilst Sirius and Eliza exchanged words. When Eliza finished, he broke in. "So, is that true, Harry? Since before you ever met this young lady?"

"Yeah, it's true," Harry readily admitted, no longer hesitant to speak the truth in front of Eliza - to whom he directed a wan smile. "Well before that, actually. Back as far as Third Year for sure, maybe even back as far as First Year. I was just rather thick about things."

"Harry, don't blame yourself," Lily counseled. "You didn't exactly grow up in a very conducive environment."

"You know about that?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," both James and Lily chorused simultaneously. Taken aback, they looked at each other. James nodded, and Lily continued. "In addition to your own frequent summons throughout that time, Dumbledore called upon us often and apologised profusely. He said it was necessary. But come to think of it, your summonses did become less frequent after your Third Year."

"I hope I can take at least some of the credit for that," Sirius huffed. "Surely that girl doesn't fill all of your heart?"

"No, Sirius," Harry replied. "There'll always be room for you - and all of you. Even you Cedric…."

"On that score, could I speak with you just a moment - privately?" Cedric requested.

"What could you possibly have to say that you can't say in front of us all?" taunted Sirius.

"Oh, hush," Lily demanded. "Let him be. Just because he wasn't a bad boy like you."

"You sound like a Prefect," Sirius protested.

"Right now, I'm better than that," Lily replied, flashing her Head Girl badge.

By then, Harry and Cedric had strolled out of earshot of the others' banter. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry to impose," Cedric began, "but can you watch out for Cho? Just a bit?"

"Er … I suppose, but I don't think she's all that happy with me right now," Harry replied noncommittally.

"There's something wrong, something that I can't fathom," Cedric continued. "We've stopped communicating. She still summons me in dreams, but not in ways we could talk. Not like we used to. Just before that, she told me she was scared - but she never told me about what. I'm quite frankly worried."

Harry thought about Cho's secret - something so explosive that it had nearly destroyed his relationship with Hermione, which, come to think of it, would have saved Voldemort the trouble. He would never tell Cedric about that (since Cho obviously had not), but he did agree to keep an eye out. "All right, I'll pay special attention, but she's not confiding in me, so don't expect much."

"That's all I can ask. Thanks Harry," Cedric said as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

Somewhat distracted by Cedric's request, which seemed more consequential than it should, Harry trailed the tall Hufflepuff back to the rest of the group.

When they returned, James took charge. "Well I think it's time that we got this debating party back on track. We've already touched upon the matter before us quite a bit, but it's time to state the proposition affirmatively: `Resolved, that it would be tragically foolish for my son….'"

"Our son," Lily corrected.

"…Right. `It would be tragically foolish for our son to try to push away that Granger girl in a misguided attempt to keep her safe from a Deater attack.' Our colleague and friend Remus Lupin, who unfortunately allowed his unique experience as a werewolf to colour his viewpoint, has already presented the negative of the proposition. It has also been expounded, at least implicitly, by Harry's current guardian, Mad-Eye Moody, who, I'm afraid, bears a number of scars beyond those that are readily apparent."

"As the senior memory here, albeit only by a few minutes, I shall begin," James continued. "Harry, don't do this. First of all, you're extraordinary and she's extraordinary. Every person who has summoned mine - and Lily's - memories confirms this. You are plainly made for each other. I hesitate to compare the two of you to Lily and myself, because you're both so young, but in my mind the comparison can neither be doubted nor ignored. More than that, though, I'd have been lost without my Lily. She's my heart, my soul, and my conscience. I was a prat before I knew her. Her love changed me…."

"You need that even more than I. You're gifted with tremendous powers - such that I can hardly conceive of them. But your upbringing has scarred you with great anger. That's what causes you to lose control. You need a moderating force, an even keel, someone to make you listen to reason and keep yourself calm. I admit that this Granger girl hasn't summoned me more than four or five times in her life. Every time she's been trying to keep either your rashness or your anger in check. Her lament has always been that Lily and I had died prematurely."

"In sum, you fit together remarkably well. You're powerful enough to protect her - if anyone in this world can - and she's wise enough to guide you in what you have to do."

"You know?" Harry asked.

"We know," James affirmed. "Dumbledore did finally get around to telling us. That's why we submitted to the Fidelius."

"You can't do that alone, Harry - not something of that magnitude. The strain would only aggravate the emotional deficits in your upbringing. The kind of incident you fear will be more likely, not less, without her cool hand on your brow."

Lily did just that - giving James' forehead a loving stroke. James stopped, returned Lily's glance, and then looked expectantly at Harry. The boy realised he was waiting for more questions, if any.

"But you're dead," Harry commented. "All of you are. If she dies, there's nobody left who loves me - whom I could trust unquestionably. I would be alone…."

"Oh, Harry!" Lily jumped in. "And if you drove her away - assuming you could - how would that help you? You'd be just as alone, and everything else would be worse, because that really would be your fault. You'd have killed her love for you. If she dies, at least she dies loving you, like I did James. At least you'd not be in that loveless special type of Hell in which poor Remus and Mad-Eye … and Sevvie too … have to live."

"She'd still be alive," Harry replied. "That's worth something."

"Alive, but not living," Lily rejoined. "And you'd be the same way - no better off emotionally than in the cupboard under the stairs. Worse, actually, because you'd know what you'd given up."

"Maybe I shouldn't know," Harry suggested.

"Tosh," Lily tossed that idea aside. "Harry, she loves you - as much as I ever loved James. She's chanced death and worse for you, and she's already taken your ring. Think about what that must have meant to her. To me, that's better than some overwrought pure-blood declaration of intent. Sorry, Luv…."

"Well, I thought my declaration was nice - and I meant every word of it," James theatrically protested.

That exchange went over Harry's head, but it hardly mattered. "I - I'm wearing her ring, as well."

"Well good for you," Lily grinned. "Think about why, then. Your grandmother, bless her soul, had a saying about people strong enough to give unreservedly to others. It was `in for a penny, in for a pound.' That's this girl - an extraordinary, irreplaceable girl who's seen fit to bestow her love upon my … our little boy. I can't betray her privacy by telling you what she's summoned me for, but I can tell you this: She's offered you the most profound gift that one person can give to another. If you don't accept it, I'm afraid you'll be regretting that decision for the rest of your life, however long, or short, you might think it will be."

No questions came to Harry's mind. "Er … thanks, Mum," he choked out.

Sirius was next.

"I come at this from the opposite direction from my happily married best friends there," he growled. "If you were my son, or my brother, I'd be telling you that you're far too young for any of this - that you need to take your passion where you find it - check out the options, play the field, have fun for a while before even thinking about any sort of commitment."

"But you're not my son, or my brother, however much I might have tried to deceive myself about that. Death has a way of stripping away such illusions. Instead, you're Harry Potter - the one the stupid papers call `The Chosen One.' In thinking about you, my Godson, I can't ignore what you've been called upon to do. You've the weight of the world thrust upon your shoulders, son. And that gets damn tiring after a while; it has to…."

"It already has," Harry affirmed.

"I'm chuffed you can admit it, then," Sirius continued, looking even more serious. "Even Dumbledore has trouble with that. Anyway, when you feel tired of carrying the world, you need someone who can carry you, yes you, for a while. Unlike your parents, I've had the pleasure of meeting Granger in the flesh - and I can tell you, I've never seen a stronger woman. Those simpering fan girl types, the kinds that follow you around in a crush, but when you actually meet them the lot of them are fools; they'd just be a burden to you. And if it's one thing you don't need, it's another burden."

"Harry, you need someone you can laugh with, cry with, and - yes - make love with. It's that simple. If you were anybody else, I'd tell you to sow some wild oats. But Dumbledore got me to write that stupid will, and then I was even stupider and got myself killed. Like it or not, that amount of money will make almost anyone's motives suspect. Anybody, that it, except Hermione. You can trust her with anything. Any questions?"

"Do you think I can keep her - keep her safe?" Harry asked. That question was at the root of his guilt, and his guilt was the source of his dilemma.

"Keep her safe?" Sirius looked Harry straight in the eye with the gravest expression he could muster. "Frankly, no. Nobody can say that. Voldemort is just too powerful, and the bloody Deaters are just too malicious, for anyone to give that kind of assurance."

Seeing Harry's face go pale, Sirius hastened to continue.

"…But nobody, and I mean nobody, Dumbledore included, has a better chance of keeping that girl safe than you do. You're powerful - I don't think anybody knows how much - and you've been trained extensively. You've got innate talent, and you took the highest Defence marks in history, as far as that goes. Let me turn that one around on you. Who the heck has a better chance of keeping her safe? Surely you don't think she could do better on her own?"

"She wouldn't have to do better on her own," Harry replied sadly. "She wouldn't be nearly as much of a target."

Sirius raised his eyebrows as his fathomless grey eyes bore into his Godson's. "Harry, that's absolute and utter bullshit. She beat bloody Voldemort's O.W.L. scores, and she's an odds-on Muggle-born Hogwarts Head Girl. She'd be Voldemort's target whether you were with her or not. Just think about it. How many times have you had to keep her safe - or even save her life - before matters got to this point?"

Harry had no answer to that. Or rather he did, but his answer only proved his Godfather's point.

Bill spoke next. "Harry, I don't have much to add to what your relatives have already said, or to our discussion by the lake over the summer, but I can say this. I don't think I've ever really seen you happy. I've seen you proud, content, victorious, and even giddy. But I've never really seen you happy - and frankly there's no reason I should have, given your past and your future."

"However, I think Hermione can make you happy, if you let her. But don't blind yourself either. I have faith in you. If she can't, I'm sure you can find someone else who can…. I'll leave it at that. There's no reason, except some misguided sense of duty, for you to deny yourself a chance at happiness. I can speak from experience here."

Bill choked up a bit. "Harry, nothing in my life gave as much happiness as those few short months I spent with Fleur - and no event in my life made me as happy as the day she agreed to marry me. Being your guardian gave me the confidence to ask her to. I hope, in return, I can contribute in some small way to you having an equally happy moment, even if I have to do it from beyond the grave."

Harry was feeling equally emotional by the time Bill ended his little speech. "Thanks Bill, I'm honoured that you feel that way. Ever since you've been gone, I've felt like an ingrate for how I treated you - and I feel so sorry about Fleur … I…." Harry stopped abruptly. He did not care to tell Bill about Fleur's recent behaviour. "I just hope she can get over everything and find some degree of happiness herself."

Bill's response flabbergasted Harry. "Don't worry about me, Harry. Fleur summons me practically every day - she has to use pills to do it - and we've talked about just that. I'm dead, Harry. She has my blessing if it would make her happy again."

Cedric spoke next, but only very briefly. "Harry, I never knew you very well, and I'm not even sure why you summoned me here - because of the way I died, I guess. You are honourable, Harry. When it counted, you're the most honourable person I think I've ever met. Please, don't feel guilty over what happened to me. Live your own life. I know you love that girl. Someone who loved me very much told me, before she thought you had any idea yourself. Like everybody else has said, you deserve to have your chance at happiness. Don't cheat yourself."

Harry replied, "Cedric, you know you're asking the impossible. I'll always blame myself for what happened to you - not so much for your sake, since I can't do anything about that, but for Cho. She mourned you for so long. She didn't want me, she wanted closure with you, and somehow thought I could give her that. But I couldn't. I'm just so afraid. I don't think Hermione would take my death any better than Cho took yours, and probably a whole lot worse."

Cedric might have said something further, but it had become obvious to all during Harry's comments that their time together was growing short. Harry was fading away, becoming increasingly transparent - and one of their number had yet to address him.

"Harry, I love you," Eliza rushed to tell him whilst he was still with them. "Never doubt that, but I knew from day one that I could never hold a candle to Hermione Granger in your heart. I couldn't match her no matter what I did - or even in the end, what she did. At best I could borrow you for a while, until the two of you worked out what is obviously an incredibly complex and equally profound relationship."

"I'm one hundred percent certain that how I died is high on your list of reasons for turning away from her and her love for you. Don't you dare, Harry. If I mean anything to you, don't let me come between you and your last, best chance at fulfillment. That would be the negation of everything I ever wanted for - and from - you."

Harry was fading fast. "Goodbye Harry. I loved you, but somebody else loves you even more. And you love her - more deeply than anything I've ever seen. Give her that chance, Harry. Please…!"

Harry was gone. He dwindled away to nothing - returned to the land of the living. That meant that Harry's memories of Voldemort's various victims, never before assembled in the same place, would be going their separate ways.

Lines of concern edged James Potter's own attenuating face. He turned to his beloved wife. "So, do you think we convinced him? He seemed attentive enough, but almost everything he said was to disagree with us. I'm afraid he might have already made up his mind - no matter what we could say."

Lily smiled at James' diminishing figure. "Who can say? I have faith in our Harry, though. I always have, and always will."

* * * *

Author's notes: Gates … of Venus is a reference to female privates

The Malfoy image comes from the Astronomy Tower encounter; Harry does not suspect him in his kidnapping

The object DE Malfoy has is what Harry destroyed while in captivity

Faneuil is the name of a building in Boston

"The public be damned" was said by Commodore Vanderbilt

Hermione's "I did" answer to the "what happened" question parallels her father's response to a similar question in Ch. 23

Sulking in a tent originates in Homer's Iliad and refers to Achilles

Pot/kettle refers to the "pot calling the kettle black" - since he's telling her not to do something he routinely does

The County Hall Island Block is a real London building - said by many to be the ugliest building in the City

I can't stand "Mione" as a pet name, and it's totally without canon support

Hermione suggested putting a memorial to Sirius into the Order of Merlin ceremony

An accommodation address is an anonymous letter drop

Fleet Street refers to British Muggle press

A bearer draft is a financial instrument payable to whoever has possession of it

The Hong Kong & Shanghai bank is real, and was British for a long time

Lupin has very mixed feelings about Harry being with anyone, especially someone as high-profile as Hermione

Some enchanted evening is originally from "South Pacific," but to me it's a Blue Öyster Cult album

Remus also refers to his own relationship problems

The Blitz here refers to the Nazi bombing of London during WWII

If Harry & Hermione are the heads, then the James & Lily parallel is overwhelming

A solution to the Room's inadequacy will be found

Inhaling helium dramatically raises the pitch of one's voice, since helium atoms are small and vibrate faster than air

Foxy is slang for pretty in a sexy sort of way, introduced into general (at least US) vernacular by Jimi Hendrix' "Foxy Lady"

Luna having a platypus for a Patronus is appropriate

(Lachlan) Macquarie and (Thomas) Palmer were Australian early colonial figures

Pommy is an insulting Australian name for a Briton

Figjam is Aussie slang, standing for "Fuck I'm Good, Just Ask Me"

Oz = Australia

Hermione's phoenix merger changed her Patronus - to one of a magical creature

Harry's going cold freezes, in order, water vapor, carbon dioxide, argon, nitrogen, and oxygen

Harry's ability to chill things will become important once he gets skilled enough to freeze what's in the balloons. Freezing helium is particularly difficult

Harry finds himself in his own mind, previously described as resembling a battlefield

Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot = WTF = What the fuck?

"Ain't seen nothing yet" is by Bachman Turner Overdrive

At 17 Harry inherits from his parents

Lily had insight as to Harry's erstwhile Voldemort connection, and Pettigrew's state of mind

Yes, the Marauders smoked pot - quite common at that time

"But for" cause is legalese for a relatively remote, but necessary, cause of an event

A hint that Cho knows something bad is happening to her

Resolved… is how formal debate team propositions are stated

James and Lily were told the prophecy

Shouldn't know - the germ of a really bad idea of Harry's

Declarations figure in wizard courting rituals

"Take your passion where you find it" from "She Was Hot," by the Rolling Stones

"When you meet them … fools" - from "Sea and Sand," by the Who

At this point, Bill's OK if Harry were to get together with Fleur

Last line echoes Hermione's testimony

73

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