I am not J.K. Rowling, nor am I associated with Scholastic. This means I did not write "HBP".
I'm so terribly sorry if this chapter confuses anyone. I'll be happy to explain (almost) everything in my replies to reviews.
Chapter 16: The Pureblood Prince
The ride back to their scheduled apparition point in northern France aboard the Disorient Express wasn't nearly as much fun as the journey to Romania had been, and considering that one of the highlights of that trip had been a vividly grotesque dream as Voldemort, that was saying a lot. Harry and Hermione were both on edge and had spoken little since boarding the train. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on her bed and reading a book on troll migration patterns while Harry sat near the window, brooding. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" he tried after a few painful moments of silence.
"That's just the image in the window, Harry," Hermione reminded him, her voice flat. "It's actually dreary and dismal in Bavaria today."
"Of course," Harry remarked with a bitter chuckle. "Why would Bavaria be any different than it is in here?"
Hermione tore her eyes away from the large book on her lap and looked up at Harry. Although there were dark circles under her eyes and she wasn't wearing makeup, he still would have sworn that she was the most incredibly beautiful young woman he had ever seen. Why didn't he notice that more often? 'Maybe you're just seeing it now because you're afraid of losing her.' "Do you feel like talking about this?" she asked softly. "It seems like there's some tension between us."
"If you think that there's tension between us," Harry joked half-heartedly, "imagine how things are in Remus and Charlie's compartment."
Hermione could only manage a small, forced smile at that. Anxious to see his younger brother now that he was no longer comatose, Charlie Weasley had found, much to his dismay, that the Disorient Express was booked solid for the next few days. As the Floo Network in Eastern Europe was still problematic and transcontinental apparition was out of the question, Tonks magnanimously decided to give up her own spot on the train to Charlie, much to Lupin's chagrin. He declined to stay behind with her, however.
"I couldn't even tell you how I feel about this," Harry admitted, as he turned away from the window to fully face Hermione. "I don't think I know the word to describe it."
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "How about 'conflicted'?" Harry nodded and took a seat beside her. "I know that's how I feel. Of course it's wonderful to have Ron back, but…" She did not bother to complete that thought. Harry could likely have finished it for her. 'But how does this affect our relationship?'
"I'm not giving you up for him, Hermione," Harry declared, a sudden boldness coming over him. "I can't see you with him again. Not after…" There was little need to finish that thought, either, as Harry lifted Hermione's chin gently. "I don't think I could stand to see you with anyone else."
Hermione's voice was almost a whisper. "Love can be scary that way." Tears threatened to fall as their eyes refused to leave the other's gaze. "Seeing you with Cho and then with Ginny was hard for me. I tried to be happy for you, but it was painful to know that you'd never see me that way…that you'd never want to be with me."
"But I do want to be with you," Harry assured her as he caressed her cheek. "I love you."
Hermione managed to smile despite being near tears. "I'll never get tired of you saying that to me."
"That's good," Harry replied. He kissed her then and tried desperately to sear the sensation in his memory forever. "Because I'm planning on saying it quite a lot." Their kisses began quickly, with each seeking reassurance from the other, but soon became slower, longer and more passionate. Harry's hands went around her back and descended quickly to her waist as Hermione's hands slipped underneath Harry's shirt.
"What if Charlie walks in?" she asked between kisses. They had both been worried about any of the Weasleys finding out about their relationship before Ron did. Other than Ginny, of course, who already knew.
"I don't care," Harry told her honestly. For the moment at least, neither of them cared about anything but each other.
***
All of wizarding England was buzzing about the news coming out of St. Mungo's. The press had descended upon the wizard hospital like a barbarian horde, eager for any piece of information they could get their hands on. "Severus Snape Finally Awake," blared one headline. "Dumbledore's Murderer to be Formally Charged Tomorrow." "Will Harry Potter Testify?"
"It's like they don't even care about Ron," Harry muttered as he waded through the crowd. His hair was sandy blonde and his bangs had been strategically placed over his scar; an impromptu disguise that Hermione had dreamed up.
"They don't," Charlie remarked, his tone barbed and bitter. "People like you and Severus Snape make for flashy headlines. Ron's lucky if he even merits a mention in any of these stories."
Harry, Hermione and Charlie Weasley soon arrived at the healer's station to see if Ron had been moved from the Closed Ward. To their mild surprise, he hadn't. Barely keeping themselves from running as they took the route that was so very familiar to them, the threesome walked briskly to the stairwell and climbed it quickly, all the while ignoring the various unflattering remarks from the portraits hanging along the wall.
As Charlie opened the door and entered the hospital ward, Hermione's arm held Harry back a moment. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Harry nodded, but his expression was filled with worry. "As awkward as this might become, I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't go see him." Hermione seemed mollified by that and the two of them followed Charlie without further hesitation.
"It makes no sense at all," a familiarly pompous voice cried out as they walked through the Closed Ward. "Why is that red-haired boy getting all of the attention, when I'm the one who defeated the Hebrides Hydra?!"
Finding Ron wasn't especially difficult. Even if Harry and Hermione hadn't traversed this hall several times, it would have been impossible to miss the sea of red heads that had congregated around Ron Weasley's bed. "Ron?" Hermione called out tenuously.
"Look dear," Molly Weasley cooed, "Harry and Hermione are here to see you."
Ron was sitting up in his bed, looking very alert and happy to be so. He was flanked by his parents on either side, with Bill and Fleur standing next to Molly and Fred and George standing across from them, not far from where Arthur Weasley was leaning protectively over his youngest son. "Harry's become a blonde! And here I thought you told me nothing much happened while I was out."
"Git," Harry responded, although not even a hint of anger was in his voice. With a simple tap of his wand, his hair returned to its normal color. "It's good to see you again, mate."
"Really good," Hermione added enthusiastically. "How are you feeling?"
Ron tried valiantly to look like a dozen healers and half that many family members hadn't already asked him that question. "Like I overslept and missed all of my classes for a week. Only you're not yelling at me, so I guess I couldn't have."
Harry's expression was as serious as Hermione's. "Do you remember what happened?"
There was something in Ron's face at that moment; a somewhat sly look that Harry would not have ordinarily associated with his best mate. "Yeah. I know what happened." Harry almost asked him something else, but had to stop himself once he realized that there were other people around who he did not want to learn about Voldemort's horcruxes.
"So…I know Bill finally made an honest woman out of Fleur…" Fleur Weasley blushed slightly and grabbed Bill's arm. "…George managed to get himself blown up, but at least he took Rita Skeeter with him…" George Weasley pumped his fist triumphantly. "But I haven't heard anything about the two of you yet," he said as he looked at his two best friends. "What have you been up to?" Harry and Hermione eyed each other guiltily. "Did you ever find that feather we were looking for?"
"Feather?" Harry repeated in incomprehension, but Hermione picked up on his meaning straight away.
"Oh, right," Hermione answered him with a fake laugh, "the feather. One of our new professors at Hogwarts is keeping that for us."
"Yeah," Harry affirmed, having now caught on to the fact that he was referring to Ravenclaw's quill. There was still something that was bothering him about Ron. Something in his eyes… "Doesn't seem like he's going to let us take a look at it, either."
"It's not Percy, is it?" Fred asked with a distasteful expression. "He seems like the type to hold onto a feather. Maybe he's put it in his cap."
George frowned. "Does Percy even own a cap?"
"Yeah," Fred answered instantly. "We gave him that one for Christmas, remember?"
"Oh yeah," George replied, smiling widely at the memory. "It said 'Warning: when cap is removed, head will inflate.' Brilliant, that was." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder if he's kept it."
"So no luck finding anything else like that feather, either, then?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows.
Before Harry could stop her, Hermione answered. "No. I'm afraid not."
Harry was now eyeing Ron suspiciously. Why was he so curious about the horcrux hunt? Why was he insisting on asking questions about it here, in front of everyone? Why not wait until they were alone? "Maybe this isn't the best time to be talking about feathers, Ron," he said slowly.
The other Weasleys looked terribly confused by all of this, but said nothing. "No, you're right of course," Ron agreed, his eyes bright and his expression sunny. "It's just that this situation reminds me a little of finding the Emerald of Edessa at the Shrine of the Serpent. Sometimes feathers and emeralds can be tricky things to get your hands on."
Harry's entire body tensed. The memory of Lord Voldemort failing to retrieve the Emerald of Edessa from the Shrine of the Serpent flashed through his mind briefly. There was no way that Ron could know about that, unless…
His lips moved within a hair's breadth of Hermione's ear, but romance was the farthest thing from his mind. "I need you to get everyone out of here. Now."
"What?" Hermione asked in an incredulous whisper.
"I don't care what you tell them, but get as many people out of the Closed Ward as you can," Harry instructed her authoritatively. When she shot him a questioning look, he ran the palm of his hand down the length of her face lovingly, not really caring what this looked like to anyone else. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. I'll take care of the Weasleys, you just get everyone else out of here."
As all of the Weasleys looked suspiciously at Hermione when she departed, Harry motioned for Bill to come closer. He led the two of them out of earshot of the others. "Do you trust me?" he asked the eldest Weasley brother sincerely.
"Of course," Bill replied with a sharp nod.
Harry's eyes were blazing with intensity. "I need you to get yourself, your wife, your parents and all of your brothers away from Ron now. Leave me alone with him."
"Harry, do you know what you're asking?" Bill questioned, his eyes wide with shock. "Ron's been in a coma. We've barely even had a chance to talk with him."
"That's probably a good thing," Harry replied, mostly to himself. "Look, I can't explain this to you now. You're just going to have to trust me."
Bill took one last look at Harry and then turned to address his parents. "Mum, Dad, I think Harry would like a moment alone with Ron."
"Alone?" Molly questioned in disbelief. "Why alone? What's going on here? All this talk of feathers and emeralds…"
"We just got him back," Arthur Weasley reminded Harry with a note of pleading in his voice. "You can't expect us to leave him now."
Ron cleared his throat loudly, silencing everyone. "Actually, I reckon it might be a good idea for Harry and me to be alone for a minute or two. There's something we need to talk about that's kind of… private."
Molly Weasley looked like she still wanted to contest the matter, but when everyone else began to file out, she rose from the seat next to him and patted him on the head. "If you need anything at all, dear, just have one of the healers page me."
As his mother exited, Ron smirked in amusement. "One of these days she's going to have to stop treating me like I'm still five years old. Although, knowing her, it'll probably be when I'm fifty."
Harry withdrew his wand from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at Ron. "Who are you?" he asked, distrust heavy in his voice.
Ron offered Harry his hand as though he might shake it. "Ron Weasley. You might remember me. We met on the train to Hogwarts in first year."
Harry was not amused. He had long been suspicious of what Snape had been planning to do to him during their aborted attempt at a duel. Ron's knowledge of the Shrine of the Serpent and the Emerald of Edessa narrowed the possibilities considerably. "Other than me, there are only two people who saw what happened when Voldemort tried to get the Emerald of Edessa out of the Shrine of the Serpent. Voldemort himself and…"
"Septimus Prince," Ron finished for him matter-of-factly. "Yeah, I know."
Harry's wand hand twitched. His first instinct was to use some kind of body bind spell on him or to petrify him until he could get to the bottom of this. But this was Ron, after all, and so far he had been cooperative. "How could you possibly know that?"
Ron seemed to be realizing something now, something that hadn't occurred to him before. "You haven't seen all of his memories yet, have you?" Harry looked puzzled. Just how much did Ron know about what was happening here? "That's good. That means you're still fighting him." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "How are you at legilimency?"
"I'm an expert at it," Harry boasted. "Dumbledore trained me himself." Ron gave him a look which said 'I don't believe you' as well as if he'd said it aloud. "Alright, so that was a lie. I…I've broken into people's minds before, by accident, during occlumency lessons."
"Try it again on me," Ron instructed him calmly. "There's something you need to see. I'll do my best to push it to the front of my mind, but you'll have to do the rest yourself." Ron closed his eyes tightly. "Alright. Try it now."
For a moment, Harry considered that this might be a trap. However, since he had no idea how such a trap might work and he was very curious about what Ron wanted to show him, he acquiesced. "Legilimens," Harry called out and felt his mind probe Ron's inquisitively. Almost immediately he was plunged into a memory that he could not imagine was one of Ron's. An elderly man lie in a hospital bed, pale and shaking. His arm clutched a cup of water weakly and pressed it to his lips, allowing some of it to flow down his throat and the rest to spill on his hospital gown.
"Do you need some help with that, Mr. Prince?" a kindly voiced female nurse asked him.
"No," he replied, shaking his head with great difficulty. "My…my visitor…is he here?"
"Your family is just outside," another nurse replied with a perplexed look.
"Not…my family," he told them with a violent cough. "I'm looking for…"
Without warning, the two women in nurse's uniforms collapsed to the floor, unconscious. A swooping figure with serpentine facial features who was immediately recognizable as Lord Voldemort entered the room, looking utterly unhappy to be there. "Tom Marvolo. You always did know how to make an entrance."
"Why did you summon me here, Septimus?" Voldemort demanded imperiously. "My time is too precious to be wasted in useless muggle hospitals."
Prince let out a short laugh. "I'm…so terribly sorry that my death is inconveniencing you. Perhaps we could reschedule this for some other time…"
"Your death?" Voldemort questioned in astonishment. "How can this be? You're barely even a hundred years old."
Septimus' lips formed a grim smile. "I'm afraid barely even a hundred is a very long time for a squib. Longer even than most muggles live."
Voldemort could hardly conceal his contempt for the short lifespan of muggles and squibs. "I am sorry. As completely infuriating as you could be sometimes, you were a true and loyal f…follower."
Septimus Prince shook his head slightly. "I'm not dead yet, Tom Marvolo. And you owe me a debt."
The Dark Lord scowled like a scorned child. "You were not terribly forthcoming with information about Salazar Slytherin when we first struck the bargain. You kept things from me."
"True," Prince answered in a wheeze, "but eventually I told you everything. I've fulfilled my part of the bargain." His frail right hand reached out for Voldemort. "You promised me anything I wanted in return, save for your own life."
Lord Voldemort inhaled sharply. "Indeed I did. I have no choice but to give you whatever it is that you want."
The old man's eyes had a desperation to them that was almost pathetic. "I'm…just a squib…but you, you are tremendously powerful…you have the ability to do what I ask…"
"Spit it out, Septimus," Voldemort commanded coldly. "Neither of us have any time to waste."
"Make a horcrux," Prince rasped, "from me. Tear out a piece of my soul and use your magic to transfer it…" Here a bout of violent coughing silenced him temporarily.
"You want eternal life?" the Dark Lord asked, his tone dubious. "Do you truly think that living forever like this would be preferable to death?"
"Of course not," Septimus spat. "I do not prize immortality above all else, as you do." Voldemort's eyes became dark, narrow slits but he said nothing. "I want a legacy. I want wizardkind to remember me when I'm gone. I want part of my spirit kept alive…in a living host."
"A living horcrux?" Lord Voldemort scoffed. "Why would you want me to make such a horrendous thing? A living being will ultimately die, Septimus. It isn't a proper anchor for the soul. It won't even keep someone alive who is young and healthy. It's completely pointless when you're near death."
"To you, perhaps," Septimus conceded between shallow breaths. "To me…it is everything…it's my chance to live the life I always wanted…" When Voldemort still looked dubious, Prince pressed the matter. "You swore to me…"
"Very well." The Dark Lord rose to his full height, towering over the elderly squib. "Do you have a host in mind?"
"Make it Eileen's son," Prince requested, his voice a gravely shadow of its former self. One trembling finger pointed to a dark-haired lad around seven or eight years of age, standing just outside the room. "Severus."
The memory ended abruptly, leaving Harry feeling disoriented and confused. "What just happened?" He felt his stomach churn in response to what he had seen. "Was that one of Septimus Prince's memories?"
Ron nodded. "Not very cheery things, are they? For someone who couldn't actually do any dark magic, the old bloke had a real obsession with it." When Harry still looked clueless, Ron prodded him a little. "Oh, come on, Harry. You can't tell me that Hermione hasn't rubbed off on you a little. Put the pieces together. Figure it out."
The gears in Harry's mind turned more slowly than the ones in Hermione's, but eventually he got there. "Voldemort used some sort of spell to take a piece of Septimus Prince's soul…and put it into Severus Snape." Harry's face contorted in repugnance. "He was only a boy then. I can't imagine what that would have done to him."
"I can," Ron informed him with a casual shrug. "Of course it's easier for me, because it happened to me, too…"
"What?" Harry asked in befuddlement. "How do you mean?"
"The duel, Harry," Ron replied by way of explanation. "Snape used a kind of switching spell. My guess is he was trying to put the piece of Septimus Prince's soul he'd had inside him since he was a sprog into you and the piece of Voldemort you've had since you were a sprog into him." Ron took a second to make sure that he'd said that right. "Taking one for the team, you might say."
Harry's voice was soft and low. "So…Snape was trying to save me."
Ron smiled knowingly. "You ought to be used to it by now, mate."
"But the spell hit you instead of me," Harry reasoned aloud. "So that means…"
"That a piece of Septimus Prince's soul is inside me," Ron finished for him. The thought hit Harry like a ton of bricks. It had been difficult enough accepting that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him. This was completely unexpected. "I have all of his memories and even some of his thoughts sometimes, which can be a little scary."
"But…" Harry began cautiously, "you're still…you, right?"
"I'm still me," Ron confirmed, "although that was touch and go for a while. That's why I was in a coma for so long. The piece of Septimus Prince's soul that's inside me thought it would try and take over. But I showed it who's boss," he crowed. "Hey, maybe I could coach you on how to do it, too. 'Course it might be more difficult, because Voldemort's still alive. Also, he's a really powerful wizard, whereas Septimus Prince was just a squib. And then there's the fact that he's been trying to kill you all these years…"
"You're doing a right terrible job of inspiring me, coach," Harry groused. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So how exactly did you know that I was one of Voldemort's horcruxes? Septimus Prince couldn't have remembered that."
Ron shrugged. "It wasn't that hard to figure out, once I knew as much as Prince did about Voldemort."
Harry smiled proudly. "Saying his name now, are you?"
Ron let out a short laugh. "Well, I could call him 'Tom Marvolo' if it would make you feel better."
"Why did you bring up the Emerald of Edessa and the Shrine of the Serpent?" Harry asked curiously.
"I figured it might pique your interest," Ron replied casually. "If I'd have known you'd order everyone out of the room, though, I would have done it straight off. Lockhart was driving me bananas." Harry chuckled at that. "Listen, Harry. This 'I have a piece of some old squib who used to hang around with Voldemort inside of me' thing, it's just between us, right? I mean, there's no need to worry Mum and Dad with it, right?"
"Of course," Harry agreed. "Anything about the horcruxes stays between us. Although…we are going to tell Hermione, aren't we?" he asked, trying not to sound like the whipped boyfriend he may well have become.
"May as well," Ron said in a resigned tone of voice. "She'll figure it out anyhow." Ron took a long, hard look at his best mate. "So…you and Hermione, eh?"
Harry felt as though he had been shot with a stunner. Suddenly the prospect of dealing with a Ron who had been possessed by Voldemort seemed less daunting than facing a Ron whose girlfriend he'd stolen. He wasn't about to lie, though. "Yeah, Ron. Me and Hermione." A terribly awkward silence followed. Finally, Harry spoke. "Were we that obvious?"
"A little, yeah," Ron acknowledged. "But it didn't help that Luna went on and on about you two during her visits. I guess she just wanted me to know that you were doing alright, but it got a bit annoying sometimes. She said the two of you were getting closer. Actually, she said 'Harry and Hermione have grown closer together than two double plucked zip snonkers.'"
Harry laughed, despite the situation. "That sounds like Luna." He was pleased that Ron had been aware of Luna's visits even while unconscious.
"I doubt she was aware of how much that hurt me," Ron told Harry quietly. "I don't think she knew that Hermione and me were a couple." He chortled humorlessly as a look of regret came over his face. "Then again, I'm not sure that I knew Hermione and me were a couple. I sure didn't act like we were."
Harry grimaced. "We never meant to hurt you, Ron. We were even going to hold off on having a relationship for a while, but…"
This time Ron laughed with genuine amusement. "I can just picture that. 'Oh Harry, we mustn't. Not while I'm still dating Ron, who is in a coma,'" he began in an exaggerated falsetto voice. "'That's very noble of you, Hermione,'" Ron continued in a much deeper voice. "'In fact, it's so noble I'm surprised I didn't come up with it myself. Alright. We'll wait to snog until Ron wakes up.' Then," he finished, returning to his normal voice, "after I didn't wake up for a while, I'm sure you just decided the hell with it and snogged her anyway."
"Erm, yeah," Harry hedged, unwilling to admit that the entire waiting process had taken maybe thirty seconds, "that's pretty much what happened."
"Look Harry," Ron began in a more conciliatory tone, "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that my pride isn't hurt or that I don't wish you'd have waited a few more years to figure out that Hermione's a beautiful, brilliant girl who's crazy about you. You were right slow on that one, anyway, but that's not the point. The point is that we've all got more important things to worry about right now." He lowered his voice dramatically. "Voldemort's got something planned, Harry. Something you may not know about. We probably shouldn't get into it here, but I think you should know…it involves you."
Harry resisted the urge to sigh. "Doesn't it always?" The memory of the Death Eater they'd captured in Romania speaking in Voldemort's voice and threatening everyone he loved if he didn't return to Hogwarts by Halloween came wafting through his mind, unwanted and unbidden. Suddenly he felt the urge to change the subject back to his love life. "I don't want there to be any hard feelings between the three of us, Ron. If you're mad about this…"
"What do you want me to be mad about, Harry?" Ron demanded. "Do you want me to be a prat and throw a fit because you didn't wait until Hermione and I officially broke up? The two of us were rubbish together, Harry. You know that. You saw us. Besides that, our world is at war. Any of us might die at any moment. When you're obviously as nuts about each other as you and Hermione are, why wait?"
Harry looked skeptical. "So…you're not angry?"
"Oh, of course I'm angry," Ron acknowledged. "But it's stupid, I'll get over it and in the meantime there's no point in taking it out on you. What's done is done." Ron smiled crookedly. "Besides, now I've got memories of shagging Snape's grandmother. That'll put anyone off of romance for a good long while."
Harry laughed loudly at that. "Well, if you change your mind, I think Hermione was right about one thing. Luna Lovegood does fancy you."
Ron's eyes now had a far away look to them. "She's really an amazing girl, isn't she?"
Harry wasn't entirely certain whether he was asking about Hermione or Luna, but the answer would be the same either way. "Yeah, she is."
As if saying the phrase 'Hermione was right' had called her to him, Harry watched as Hermione Granger re-entered the Closed Ward. "I had to tell the healers that Ron was suffering from a rare condition that involved the projectile vomiting of stinksap. This better have been important."
It only took a few minutes for Harry and Ron to fill Hermione in on all the details. "Fascinating," Hermione enthused, her mind clearly turning over all of the implications of the unusual situation. "So that's why Snape called himself the Half-Blood Prince. It also has to be why he knew so many spells at such a young age and why he was so fascinated with the Dark Arts."
"It can't have done much for his social life, either," Harry threw in, thinking back to the memory of Snape, the Marauders and his mother that he had seen in his fifth year. "I actually feel kind of sorry for him, which is something I never thought I'd say. He never really got to live his own life, did he?"
While Hermione gave Harry a very sympathetic look, Ron replied, "Well, he definitely won't now. The way the Daily Prophet's talking, the public wants to lynch him before he even makes it to trial."
Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, do you really think that if Snape faked a Death Eater raid to try to save you from Voldemort that he would have killed Dumbledore for any reason other than because Dumbledore wanted him to?"
Harry thought that over for a few seconds. "No," he answered frankly. "But the fact remains that he did kill Dumbledore and until we know why, I think Azkaban's exactly where he should be." It did not seem as though Hermione agreed, but she said nothing.
Ron looked like he desperately wanted to change the subject. "Hermione, we need to talk. Harry, you can stick around for this, but I should warn you, it could get a bit messy." He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Hermione, I reckon we should break up."
"W…what?" Hermione stammered. "I thought you told him about us," she whispered to Harry.
"I did," Harry replied through clenched teeth.
Ron pretended he hadn't heard them. "I know this wasn't what you were expecting, but…things just aren't working out. We're two different people. Well, I mean, obviously we're two different people. I'm me and you're you, but…you know what I mean. We're different. Too different. We want different things. I want to eat and play Quidditch. You want to read and snog Harry. It just wouldn't work in the long run."
"I…think I understand," Hermione said slowly. Harry did too. Ron was trying his best to give them (and himself) some closure.
"I hope we can stay friends," Ron added, his jovial veneer breaking a bit as his tone grew serious. "Because this friendship that the three of us have…it's something that doesn't come along every day. So, whatever happens…" He got a little choked up at that and couldn't continue.
"Oh Ron," Hermione said, her own emotions running high. "Of course we'll still be friends." Her right hand clutched Ron's left as she moved to his side.
"Best friends," Harry added as he grabbed Ron's other hand in what he hoped was a manly display of friendship. However, since all of them were near tears, it probably didn't matter anyway. Harry's smile vanished quickly, however, as a horrible thought suddenly occurred to him.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"It's nothing, really," Harry assured her. "I was just wondering if Voldemort's ever shagged anyone." The three of them thought about it for exactly two seconds. "Nah."
***
"Why are we leaving in such a hurry?" Harry asked, his arms filled with Ron's clothes as he scrambled to
keep up with Ron and Hermione.
"Best to get out of there before Mum and Dad come back," Ron answered him. "If we don't, they'll throw a fit that I'm going back to Grimmauld Place with you instead of Hogwarts."
"Actually, Ron," Hermione pointed out with a grimace, "we're only going back to Grimmauld Place to get our things. Then we are going back to Hogwarts." While on the train, Harry and Hermione, after thoroughly exhausting themselves doing other things, had come to the conclusion that going back to school was their best option at this point.
"Oh," Ron replied sheepishly. "Well then, why are we leaving in such a hurry?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "To avoid the press."
"I don't think we need to worry about that," Ron pointed out. "They're swarming around Snape's room, waiting for the Aurors to take him to Azkaban." Ron gave Harry a curious look. "D'you think they'll ask you to testify?"
"Probably," Harry answered glumly, although he wasn't thrilled by the idea. His feelings about Snape had become murkier in recent weeks, and he was no longer sure what the wizard's fate should be. 'He killed Dumbledore, but he's tried his best to save my life on more than one occasion.' "I suppose I'll have to get special dispensation from Headmistress McGonagall to do it."
"Oh, that reminds me," Ron went on, his voice taking on a sense of urgency. "Mum said that Ginny's gone missing. Seems McGonagall sent her out on some errand for the Order and she didn't come back."
Harry and Hermione both froze. "Ginny's missing?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Ron replied, "I couldn't believe it, either. 'Course it could be nothing. Knowing Ginny she's probably getting herself into a load of trouble over some boy."
"'Some boy,'" Hermione repeated, as if a thought were occurring to her. "Harry, you didn't do anything with that slip of paper with Mordred Quirrell's address on it, did you? Because I couldn't find it before we left."
Harry's eyes widened in horror. Could Ginny have picked up the wrong piece of paper before flooing out of Grimmauld? "Who's Mordred Quirrell?" Ron asked innocently.
***
"Malfoy?!" Ron asked in complete disbelief as Harry, Hermione and Ron entered Grimmauld Place.
"We found him there while we were looking for Hufflepuff's cup," Hermione explained patiently. "He claimed he'd been left by Snape to guard Quirrell's research on the horcruxes."
"Malfoy?!?!" Ron repeated, his mouth still open in shock.
"There wasn't much we could do with him, Ron," Harry went on, attempting to defend actions that he wasn't very proud of himself. "He knew all about the horcruxes. If we turned him into the authorities, he'd tell them everything…"
"Malfoy?!?!?!" Ron reiterated sharply, forcing both Harry and Hermione into silence.
Then something unexpected happened. "Will Young Master Malfoy be returning?" Kreacher asked from his hunched over position near the stair, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "He was so much better to work for than you…blood traitors and mudbloods…"
'Dobby would probably disagree,' Harry thought to himself. 'Wait a minute…' "Kreacher, when was Malfoy here?"
Kreacher recoiled instinctively, fully aware that he had said something he shouldn't have. "Over the summer," he answered in a reluctant hiss. "Before Master Potter came."
Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What was he doing here?"
"Kreacher…Kreacher doesn't remember," the old house elf answered in a quivering voice, cringing to prepare himself for his expected punishment. Instead, Harry just stood there, thinking. Why would Draco Malfoy come here?
Ron huffed impatiently. "That barmy old house elf isn't going to tell us anything, Harry." He stormed over to Grimmauld's fireplace, fully expecting Harry and Hermione to follow. "Malfoy could be doing awful things to my sister. I know you're not dating her anymore, but I thought you'd at least care whether she lived or died."
Harry resisted the urge to snap at him. "We took his wand away, Ron. We're not stupid."
"Yeah well, you could have fooled me," Ron grumbled irritably.
"Oh, come on," Hermione beckoned them, trying to play peacemaker as she grabbed some floo powder from the mantle. Once all of them were in place, she dropped the powder and spoke old Mr. Quirrell's address loudly and clearly.
When they arrived on the other end, Ron silenced them all with a gesture. "Do you hear that?" he asked in a whisper. "It sounds like moaning."
Harry listened closely. It did sound like moaning, and high-pitched moaning at that. Would Ginny really have been careless enough to end up here? "It's coming from this direction," Harry told them, indicating one of the back rooms. Quietly, the three of them crept through the old house, trying to avoid setting off any of the little wizarding knickknacks that lined the walls.
As they approached a room near the end of the hall, the distinctive sound of Ginny screaming could be heard inside. "That tears it," Ron announced in a stage whisper. "I'm going in there."
"Ron, don't," Hermione cautioned. The hesitant look on her face confused Harry. What was she so worried about? "You might not like what you see in there. Let me go in first."
"Of course I'm not going to like what I see," Ron replied angrily. "Malfoy's torturing my sister!" Without another word, he burst through the door. Once inside, however, he let out a long, mournful bellow that reverberated through the house. Harry dashed after him, but a moment later wished he hadn't.
***
"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted from inside the bedroom. "You had sex with Malfoy?! You had sex with
Malfoy?!?! You had sex with Malfoy?!?!?!"
"He has a bad habit of doing that now, doesn't he?" Hermione asked lightly. She was standing near the closed bedroom door, trying not to overhear what Ron and Ginny were saying but failing miserably. "I wonder if he's picked it up from Septimus Prince."
Harry did not reply. In truth, he was nearly as upset with Ginny as Ron was, but he was more than willing to let her brother give her the tongue lashing. Although he was no longer interested in her romantically, he had still thought well of her and considered her a friend. Now, he didn't even know if he could stand to be in the same room with her.
"I think it becomes my business when you have sex with Malfoy!!" Ron screamed over Ginny's protestations.
"He hasn't gotten any yet, has he?" Draco asked nastily. "Only a pathetic virgin could be this interested in his sister's sex life."
"Shut up," Harry told him sharply. The two of them had been given the unenviable task of watching Malfoy as Ron and Ginny had it out. Neither of them had any desire to actually watch him, as he was wearing nothing but a tightly fitting pink pair of Ginny's pajama bottoms. "Hermione, did you know that we were going to see Ginny and Draco doing…you know…that?"
"I kind of guessed," Hermione admitted, looking somewhat ashamed as she did so. "It's exactly the sort of thing she's always done to try to get your attention. Snog some other bloke so you get jealous. At one time, it worked pretty well." Harry nodded, acknowledging the truth of that statement. "Of course, she probably felt like snogging wouldn't be enough because…well, you could probably figure out why."
'Because Hermione and I have been sleeping together,' Harry thought to himself. "Well, it didn't work this time."
Hermione regarded him sadly. "Didn't it? You looked pretty distraught when you saw them together."
"It was a shock," Harry admitted. "I won't deny that. But as for making me jealous…it didn't. Not even a little."
Hermione looked both relieved and hopeful. "And…if that had been me in there, with Malfoy?"
Harry shook his head. "It wouldn't have been. You're not built that way."
"You're right about that," Draco remarked snidely. Harry hit him with a stinging hex in the back. "Ow! Watch it, Potter!"
"I think I'm going to go downstairs and see if there's not some way I can destroy everything with the word 'horcrux' on it," Hermione taunted him as she waved her wand in his direction.
"You're too late," Malfoy informed her smugly. "Everything's gone."
"Gone?" Hermione questioned in disbelief. "How could everything be 'gone'?"
Draco shrugged. "Every piece of Quirrell's notes disappeared this morning. It must have been something Snape set up beforehand. I didn't have anything to do with it."
Harry had no great difficulty believing that. "In that case, you just earned yourself a ticket to Azkaban, Malfoy. Without proof, you can babble on about the horcruxes to the Ministry all you want. They'll never believe you."
"Fine with me," Draco replied, grinning evilly and propping his bare feet up on a nearby antique chair. "I get the feeling I won't be there for long, though."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"You know what, Potter? I think I'm going to take your advice for once and shut up." Just as Harry looked ready to pummel Malfoy, Ron and Ginny exited the bedroom, still screaming at each other.
"It's my life, Ron!" she screeched. "You can't tell me how I should or shouldn't live it!"
"Fine!" Ron yelled back. "Don't expect me to come running in and save you when he starts acting like the poisonous snake he is, then."
"I won't!" Ginny retorted angrily. As she spun on her heel, she made eye contact with Harry. Not seeing what she wanted to there, her eyes became teary. "I won't," she repeated, only now her voice was dispirited, rather than defiant.
"Ron," Hermione tried in a soothing voice, "why don't you go ahead and take Ginny back to Hogwarts? We'll meet you there after we hand Malfoy over to the Ministry."
"You're…you're sending him to Azkaban?" Ginny asked pitifully. No one answered her.
"Alright," Ron agreed. He then quickly cast a 'muffliato' as Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled around each other. "You might see if you can talk to Snape. Find out if Voldemort made any more horcruxes after Prince died. There's no guarantee that he only made seven."
Harry nodded his agreement quickly. There were many questions that remained unanswered about Severus Snape. It was time to get the full story from the horse's pale, greasy mouth.
The next chapter is called "The Trial of Severus Snape". I hope you enjoy and I hope you got some enjoyment out of this one as well. All reviews are appreciated.
ITL