Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related terms and characters are the property of JK Rowling. The use of copyrighted material is for non-profit entertainment purposes only, and in no way constitutes a challenge to the existing copyright.

A/N: I hate having to post this note, but I've been warned ahead of time that it might be necessary. For those waiting for the physical culmination of last chapter's "I love you," here you go. For those leery of intimate relations at the age they're at, kindly remember that not only are Harry and Hermione 20+ in their personal maturity, but neither of them follows rules if it doesn't suit them, and both have taken worse risks with their lives thus far. In this story, it fits well. It also happens to forward my (very evil) plot. Mwa ha, ha, ha…

This chapter was written on my skin with a knife. I swear I've never been through such a painful writing experience, not even for the most gruelling essays in university. Matt (mathiasgranger) assures me that the chapter is 'fine,' so I hope you all enjoy it. I'm just happy to get this part of the story out, and focus on Chapter 11 and TMF Chapter 3, both of which are coming along much more quickly.

Enjoy the plot twists!

~TOW

YEAR 3: Year of the Serpent - Black Christmas

==================================

I walked down to the basement, recovering my focus as I went. Another trip to the Ministry meant no wand-based magic, and so I needed the best substitutes I could get. I silenced the heavy wooden door of the potions room to mask the creaking, and walked over to the full cabinets there.

One moment later, I had two vials each of Polyjuice, Veritaserum, Snape's vapor stunner, and the antidotes for all three. I also took to larger vials of a very potent acid, just in case. In the absolute best case, I might be able to get into the area in the same manner that I infiltrated the DT, but I wasn't holding my breath.

Long leather belts hung on the side of the potions cabinet, each fitted with small pouches along its length. The brainchild of Remus, these belts saved a lot of hassle when it came to accessing potion vials, or anything else small enough to fit in the belt's pouches. I made a mental note to approach Pansy and the twins with a proposition to expand the pouches on one of these belts. Though it cost me a fortune, I'd gladly trade in the cube-trunk for belt with the same expanded space --far more accessible.

I estimated that your average Ministry enchanter could probably get a belt like that enchanted in about twenty hours or so of work, so it would be a 500-galleon order, give or take; more expensive than my trunk by far, and not really worth the expense to the general public. More than worth it for me, though.

I strapped one of the belts on overtop of the one holding my tunic tight, and sorted my potions into the pouches. Once finished, I took a deep breath to steady myself. I glanced quickly at my watch: 3:45 a.m., just over two hours before the human machine of the Ministry grumbled to life.

More than enough time, I thought and hoped. Donning my Invisibility Cloak, I pulled the hood down and opened the front, allowing the cloak to fade into sight. As the silver sheen of its magic dimmed, the cloak settled into a pure black color. On its front sat two golden lion heads clasped together by a silenced link of golden chain. The cut and length of the cloak made it a suitable replacement for outer robes, and though it was a rather antiquated style of dress, some wizards still used it. Glancing in a nearby mirror, I thought that the cloak looked rather nice against the deep green tunic I wore, the tunic's gold embroidery complimenting the lion heads and chain. May as well look the part of the hero; every little bit helps.

It wouldn't be my cloak providing me invisibility today. After my duel and escape from Dumbledore, I quickly realized the mobility that multiple Disillusionment Charms would give me; no longer would I have to cover my entire body with my cloak, and simply wearing it would offer protection from the Ministry's security. My spell work was more than robust enough to last a few hours, so I charmed myself with every precaution I could think of: multiple disillusionments, silencing auras around my feet and hands, strong cleaning charms to kill any scent that lingered on me, and both buffer charms against physical objects.

Properly equipped and enchanted, I took Dumbledore's Portkey, unfurled the parchment, and the room around me faded into a blur.

-----

Fireplaces along the walls lit the Atrium in a dark, glimmering light, seeming to be a dungeon more than a social hub. The ceiling was lost to shadow, and the monolithic golden fountain glittered in the firelight, sending golden flecks of light out to kiss the walls.

A golden witch and wizard stood near the top of that fountain, arms open in greeting and acceptance. The smiles on their faces, that promised happiness and fulfillment when viewed in the light, looked sinister and menacing now. The smiles that expressed such joy in the smaller statues of a house elf, a goblin and a centaur looked like grimaces of pain. They looked as though they were dancing, and it was easy to believe that they danced for the wizards' amusement, rather than mutual happiness.

Most wizards would look upon those statues and see a beautiful work of art. Those more politically inclined might choose to see it as the social ideal for which to strive. What I saw painted a far darker picture, one of conquest.

Enough water erupted from the statues and surrounding circles of spouts to create a dull roar as it cascaded down to the collecting pool below. With the fountain covering any noise I might make, I walked swiftly past the security checkpoint and the oblivious night guard, and headed for the stairs. The detection wards hummed around me, but the magic of the cloak was far too slippery for them to take hold, and I moved through them like a sleek fish through water.

Below the Atrium rested only two levels: the Department of Mysteries, and the courtrooms. Three silver grates told me that the new lifts were complete, and I saw the beginnings of two more as well. Lazy, lazy wizards.

Reaching the stairs, I quickly descended to the courtroom level: A bleak hallway interrupted twice on each side by iron doors. Blue balls of fire floated above each door. A statue stood hidden in the shadows at the end of the hall.

I nearly cursed aloud. I have to go through the courtrooms to get to the jail cells. Fuck!

Close inspection of the doors revealed a complicated enchanted locking mechanism. Even with my wand, forcing this door open was simply not an option. Several runes on the sides of the door spoke of a 'guardian' as well, and I eyed the statue at the end of the hall with trepidation. My cloak protected me against most wards and methods of detection; I wondered if it would protect me from this.

Not wanting to contemplate the answer to that question, I walked back to the stairs. If any way existed to open these doors, it would be in the Wizengamot offices in the DMLE, 9 floors up. This would have been good information to have, Dumbledore, I thought angrily. This entire rescue just got a lot riskier.

Flight after flight, I marched up the stairs. My watch now read 4:03; less that two hours left before avoidance and stealth became far more difficult. It will be difficult anyways, I mused. The DMLE would not be empty like other departments, nor would the Wizengamot offices be unprotected.

The DMLE was bustling with activity, alive and well lit. The atmosphere seemed cheerful compared to the gloom of the other abandoned floors. I felt even more like a trespasser as I carefully sidestepped a man carrying file folders and made my way down the floor. 'Rhythm is a Dancer,' a song Hermione had recently taken to listening to, played over and over in my head as I patiently timed my way around Aurors and other Ministry workers.

It felt inappropriate to call the DMLE anything but a 'floor,' because that's what most of it was. There was a small maze of wooden office desks segregated by rather ornate six-foot wooden walls, a wizard's version of a cubicle farm. There were different sections for different parts of the Department, with wide walkways spaced throughout. The entire floor seemed geared for quick exit in case of an emergency, and everyone was within earshot of someone shouting.

The Wizengamot offices stood out by being the only offices, aside from the Department Head's, completely walled off from the rest of the floor. Walking up to them was a breeze. Getting inside, however...

The door to the offices was locked, naturally, and heaven forbid that I'd have been supplied a key or anything. I stared at the door for an agonizing minute before I decided that no matter what the risk, I needed others to open the door for me. I glanced quickly around to make sure that there were some, but not many, people nearby. Seeing that a minor audience was present, I gave the door a swift kick.

The thump drew everyone's attention, and I moved quickly to the side of the door, near to the doorknob. Predictably, the Auror that came to investigate threw the door open wide and stood back, wand at the ready. I walked right in front of that wand into the hallway beyond the door, and waited in the Auror to get over his nerves. After five minutes of fruitless searching, the Auror gave up and shut the door, locking it with an audible click.

Sighing quietly in relief, I turned and looked for Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore could deal with any damage to the office or out-of-place items; in the worst-case scenario, it would cast him in the light of a victim. His office door, while locked, was just an office door with a simple lock, and I had other means to open it.

I took my glasses off and bent one of the earpieces straight before inserting it into the wide keyhole. One of Sirius' many skills was picking the simple locks of the inside doors used by Hogwarts, as well as most buildings in the wizarding world. While I hadn't practiced much, I had all the time in the world, and it was only one tumbler. After less than a minute of poking around, the lock clicked into place for me.

Carefully opening the door, I crept inside and looked around. The office was what you might expect from a government officer: Two large bookshelves filled with tomes on law and procedure that flanked a false window depicting a vast desert on the far wall. A comfortable sofa rested against the sidewall closest to the door, and the large oak desk sat opposite. The wall on the hallway side was blank except for a large picture of Dumbledore and his brother, along with a third man I didn't recognize. I closed the door behind me and quickly went to the desk, rummaging through its drawers.

I smile ruefully as I filtered through the contents of Dumbledore's desk. If this had been a muggle office, I'd never have been able to break in; locks upon locks, from the front doors to each single desk drawer would have prevented it. Still, had this been a muggle office, I could have Alohomora'd my way through pretty much anything.

Magic revolves around ideals and intent, you see. I can assure any muggles in the room that both mechanical and electronic locks respond to Alohomora, since the magic sees no difference between them; no matter how technologically sound, to mystic forces a lock is a lock. Picture in your mind David Carradine running his thumb over one of those swipe-locks and having the door open; I can do that, you know.

It was in the third drawer that I finally found what I was looking for: a small iron key with similar runic markings on it as the courtroom doors. I finished going through the drawers out of prudence, but I found nothing else of interest. Satisfied that I had what I needed, I closed the drawers and left the office, turning the bolt of the lock again behind me.

I bent my glasses back into shape as I walked, and carefully approached the door to the DMLE floor. This lock was a bolt-lock, and I threw the latch slowly to prevent any noise. The large wooden door didn't have a window, so I had to take on faith that I could avoid the suspicion of this door opening on its own. Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and opened the door slowly, trying to make it seem as if it had just fallen open on its own. As soon as there was enough room, I slid through the opening, and took off down the floor before Aurors began to gather.

The ruckus that began to generate behind me faded into the background as I reached the stairs and made my way down. While I had been successful, the Aurors were likely to be on alert now, and that meant that I had very limited time to act.

Reaching the courtrooms again, I slid the key into the first door and turned it. The groaning of the door as its physical locks gave way made me wince, but the runes glowed once briefly and the door opened. More grinding of stone echoed down the hall, and I turned and watched as the statue at the end of the hall came to life and left its recession to stand up.

It was a golden depiction of a tall, robed man. Real flames gathered in his right hand, and large silver-feathered wings rose from his back. The flame alone marked this as a wizard's representation of the Archangel Michael.

The statue stood at attention at its end of the hall, however, seeming to be content to watch. I uneasily walked in the courtroom, and made my way across the risers. The door opened to the highest level of seating, which ran the entire perimeter of the room, with special sections designated for court officials and the parties at trial. There were twelve concentric risers, each one lower than the last, encircling the pit where the accused would sit. In the middle of the room was a huge grate, and as I approached it, my skin blanched and I recoiled in horror.

There were no single cells like a muggle prison might have; there was a large pit underneath each courtroom, and the prisoners inside moaned and wailed, covered in their own filth. The two or three people moaning in the pit were completely unknown to me, and it was clear from their unclean state that they had all been there for some time. Fighting down the nausea and disgust, I crept back out of the room, closing and locking the door.

God, please don't make me search every room, I thought. The smell of grime and shit from the first pit was staggering enough.

I closed and locked the door to that courtroom, and tried the next, praying that I had chosen the right one. The faces of several skeletons and the emaciated bodies of those in the pits told me that I wouldn't find what I was looking for here. As I walked toward the door, the statue of Michael appeared, blocking the exit.

Its head turned left and right as it scanned for my presence. I wondered what I had violated, but I had very little time to think on it. The statue began moving in my general direction; it seemed off-center in its tracking, as though it sensed something but not very well. The key, I realized as it adjusted to face me more directly. It must sense the key. I waited until it had come down to the pit before I gathered my magic to me. The statue slowed to a crawl as I pushed myself to maximum speed, running back up the risers and out the door. I slammed it shut and locked it quickly, and allowed myself to power down as I turned my attention to the remaining two doors.

A metal hand closed around my arm -- or tried to -- as 'Michael' walked right through the wall of the courtroom as if it was water, stepping back into the hall. The guardian seemed to have compensated for whatever issues it had with sensing me, and now I was in serious trouble. I pulled my arm away from the statue's grasp, and while my buffer forced the guardian's hand wide, I could feel the drain it caused on the charm's power. I flexed my magic fully and kicked against its knee, and nearly howled in pain as my foot made contact. My heart sank to my stomach as I hobbled away from the statue; it was too strong to attack.

Again, I called on my magic, pushing myself to my greatest speed. I flew up the stairs, looking to gain some distance from the guardian. Perhaps I could settle it down, or make it look for me in the wrong place. The statue was fast on its own, however, and made up for any difference in speed by travelling through the stone, forcing me to dodge its grasping hands emerging from the walls several times on the way up.

I stumbled out into the Atrium, running through the dim firelight towards the fountain. The guardian came up from the floor near to the stairs, ripples travelling through the stonework like water. It slowed considerably as it neared the fountain; the heavy enchantments on the golden figures and the water itself seemed to confuse it. It was hesitant, almost unwilling, to approach the fountain completely, but it was content to circle it, looking for me. I moved as it did, and the sluggishness with which it tracked me told me that its earlier inability to pinpoint my location had returned.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention to the stairs as I circled away from the statue. Two Aurors appeared, their bright blue cloaks trailing behind them. One began to make its way towards the guardian, while the other raced down the stairs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

As soon as both the Auror and the fountain were between the guardian and me, I ran for the stairs, silent as a ghost. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw that the statue was responding to the Auror. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't botch this up. I flew down the stairs to the courtrooms, only to find one of the far rooms was open. Perhaps the Aurors were checking on their prisoners. I prayed that this was the case; if it was, I only had to fight one Auror before calling Fawkes. If I was wrong, I had to open the other room, and then fight two Aurors and the guardian.

"… Wouldn't be too worried about it, cousin," I heard coming from the open courtroom. "Death Eaters like you won't be getting out of these cells like you did Azkaban. You'll likely die in that cell." The voice was decidedly female, and while it carried an edge to it, there was a waver to the voice as she spoke.

"I didn't do it!" was the impassioned answer. Sirius. I ran into the room as fast as I could. "I swear to you!" he continued, "I've met Harry since then; he knows! It was Peter that betrayed them, not me!"

"You aren't the man I remember as a little girl," the Auror said with bitterness in her voice. "I'll always remember you the way you were before all this happened; before you turned to your Dark Lord."

"Nym-"

"DON'T USE THAT NAME!" she cried, firing an unknown hex down through the grate. "YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO CALL ME BY THAT NAME, YOU MURDERING PIECE OF SHIT!"

Boosting my speed and strength, I ran to the side of the Auror, and pulled her wand from her grasp, dropping it through the grate. My next action, however, was to fly through the air at an alarming speed, propelled by a punch that nearly broke through my buffer charm. The woman, her hair shortening to spikes and turning blood red, seemed to be growing as her muscles rippled, adding layers of thickness.

"A metamorph," I mumbled as I got to my feet. "This just keeps on getting better." There was a nagging sense of familiarity to her, though. She did remind me of a student I saw at Hogwarts in my first year, but this feeling was… closer.

"No Death Eaters are going free tonight," she said forcefully as she touched the clasp on her cloak. A bright light emitted from the clasp, and my Disillusionments and charms tore away from me like paper. My dark cloak shimmered with silvery streaks of light, telling me that the Ministry remained blind to my presence. I brought my magic up as strongly as I could, and I ran towards her, my anger beginning to pulse.

"Think you're good enough to stop me, shape-changing bitch?" I taunted as I closed in. She responded with a textbook roundhouse that I ducked. I fired my leg out in a broad sweep, sending her to the ground.

She kipped up immediately, but whatever her comeback was, it faded into a grunt as I slammed my fist across her face. As she staggered back from the force of the blow, I stepped into her, my hands going to my tunic. I didn't need a long fight; that was suicide. Not only was my opponent likely more experienced than I was, but she could immediately compensate for any difference in strength, and maybe speed. Then there was the matter of the backup that I knew would come quickly; and so, I chose the only way out I had available. Her strong arms grabbed me at my elbows, but all movement stopped as I pressed the barrel of my pistol to her forehead.

"Can you change enough to survive this?" I said while my eyes bored into hers. I pressed hard against the barrel, forcing her back and down until she was on her knees. There was no struggle from her; apparently, this Auror recognized what a gun at point blank could do.

Color slowly faded away from her irises and hair, until both were stark white. "Please," she whispered quickly, her face a mask of fear. "Please, no." Her muscles began to recede, melting away to their natural levels. I slipped an arm around her to keep her from falling back. Part of me suspected a trick, some sort of ruse to disarm me, but her eyes conveyed the truth of her fear to me. For all her training, this Auror had never come so close to death before, and she was terrified.

"What do I do with you?" I asked her, my anger fading as I spoke. "I can't leave you here; and I don't want to kill you. Who are you?"

"Tonks," she whispered. "N-N-Nymphadora Tonks." Tonks. Again, that feeling that I should know her.

"Harry?" Sirius called from the pit. "Harry, is that you?"

"Yeah," I said a little louder. "Are the other two with you?"

"We're here!" another voice called.

"Harry, Nym doesn't know everything, but she's family. Don't hurt her."

Tonks was still staring at me with wide, pale eyes, her focus shifting from me to the pistol pressed between her eyes. Well, here goes. "Tonks, look at me." Her eyes shifted to lock onto mine. "Do you know who I am?" I felt the slightest of nods against the gun. "I need you to trust me when I say that we're on the right side of things. I'm going to take you to Dumbledore; he'll explain everything. I want to take this thing away from your head, but I don't want you to let go of me. Will you trust me?"

I watched with no small amount of fascination as the paleness began to drain from her eyes as I talked. Her eyes seemed to have refocused, as though she had finally found what she sought in my eyes and face. Slowly, her eyes regained a bright violet hue, while her hair went a flamboyant pink, and the spikes softened and grew into shoulder length cut. "Yes," she said quietly, her eyes never leaving mine. "I trust you."

I pulled the gun away from her head and pocketed it, and rubbed my thumb across the mark it left on her forehead, smiling apologetically. Tonks closed her eyes and brought her head to my shoulder, pulling her arms around me in a tight embrace.

"Fawkes!" I called. "Get us out of here." A brilliant flash signaled the arrival of the phoenix, and he immediately set to work transporting Sirius and the other two from their cell to Dumbledore's office in Hogwarts. I began to relax a little, when the sound of combat erupted from the hallway.

Stepping into the room with its heavy footfalls was the guardian, its body twisted and torn, and its right arm missing. A powerful curse slammed into it from behind, and it toppled face-first into the risers, sliding down noisily across them to rest near me in the pit. The statue twitched on the ground for a moment, and then lay completely inert. I quickly looked back to the doorway to see who had brought the guardian down. No Auror would have done that, but the person standing in the doorway was no Auror. We stared at each other in shock and surprise, green eyes to grey, and our voices barely managed to whisper.

"Bellatrix."

"Harry."

The crackle of flames and a warm sensation above announced Fawkes' return, and I felt his strong talons close around my shoulders. I never took my gaze away from the woman who stood in the doorway above me, who so easily had taken apart what was to me an impossible foe. Bellatrix kept her wand at her side as the flames grew around me. Her eyes spoke of a longing that I didn't understand, and it reminded me of her gentle ministrations after our duel, as she had tried to heal the wounds she had inflicted. A small, unfathomable ghost of a smile crossed her features as the flames reached my eyes.

Again, that sensation arose: the feeling that I should know Bellatrix better than I did; the same feeling that I got from Tonks.

Why?

I couldn't even begin to guess at the answer.

When the flames died away, the face staring back at me from nearly the same angle was Dumbledore's, his bright blue eyes and large smile warm and inviting. That smile faded away as he took in the look on my face, and the extra passenger I had brought with me.

"What happened?" he asked, coming from around his desk to help me stand. "Tell me everything."

-----

"So Dumbledore trained you?" Tonks asked, coming over from where Dumbledore was speaking with the other three. I nodded, and she plopped down on the chair beside me with a frustrated sigh. "Explains a lot," she muttered. "Been through two years of Auror training, and a kid beats me. If you're as good as Old Man Black over there says, though, I shouldn't have bothered fighting."

"You're good," I offered, doing my best to smile supportively -- which probably failed due to exhaustion. "I couldn't believe that you threw me around like that, it scared the hell out of me."

"Oh really?" Her eyebrow arched up along with her voice. "Is that why you called me a 'shape-changing bitch,' then, because you were scared? You sure had me fooled."

"I'm trying to be nice here," I grumbled, Turning away to stare out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten with the coming dawn, and I couldn't help but yawn as I saw it.

"Sorry," she said. "Just tryin' to... well, just tryin' to break the ice, is all. I only knew you from a couple glances in your first year; that was my seventh, in Hufflepuff."

"Girl with the rainbow highlights?" I asked, vaguely remembering a rather odd head of hair from across the hall. She grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

"That was me! I had a thing for rainbows then, and school colors are dead boring after so many years of it. We all figured you were going out with that Granger girl. She seemed nice enough, but of course I never knew her."

A genuine smile fought its way onto my face when she mentioned Hermione. "Yeah, I'm with her. We hooked up officially that summer, and then... well, the next year was full of bullshit. Just like this year, I guess."

"She a keeper?"

"Hell, yes," I said. "She's the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. I might just be insane by now if she wasn't around."

Tonks laughed lightly, looking over to where a flash of fire had erupted. Dumbledore was now talking to Sirius alone, the other two transported away by Fawkes. "This is all messed up," she said brightly. The tears forming in her eyes told me exactly how fake that brightness was. I reached out tentatively to her, and she fell towards me, letting me gather her into a sideways hug.

Tonks introduced me to a completely new form of crying. Maybe it was due to her being a Metamorphmagus, but she either couldn't, or chose not to, sob. Tears ran from her eyes, and her breathing was fast and ragged, but not once did it hitch, nor did her shoulders bob. Her hair darkened to a deep blue, with even deeper shades coursing through it randomly.

"It'll be alright," I said quietly. "I'm so sorry that I had to fight you. I can't tell you how horrid I feel about that, especially since you're family."

"It's not that," Tonks said, her voice strong and steady despite the tears that still rolled down her face. "You did what you had to do, and I could see the change in your eyes as soon as you knew I wasn't an enemy. You were thinking something along the lines of 'Thank God, I don't have to kill her,' right?" I nodded, and she smiled a bit.

"Yeah, I thought so. You're one of the personality types that we study as Aurors. I'm surprised that you're like that, though; usually its older blokes that get that way."

"Fighting Voldemort while he's possessed your friend's little sister will do that to you," I said quietly.

"Oh, fuck; you're serious? Well, that'll do it, I guess. Anyways, it's not you.

"I'm worried more that my career is over before it's started. I'm all for Sirius getting out, I'm happy. It's just that I'd like to have actually worked as an Auror for a while. I tried so hard to get in."

"I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore can make everything work," I said, squeezing her shoulders. "He's done a lot for me, and I'm sure he's not going to let you suffer."

She nodded against me, but didn't answer. The amount of liquid that had come from her eyes was truly disturbing, but I schooled away any reaction. Shape-changers of any sort are different in inexplicable ways, and none of them really mattered.

Dumbledore interrupted our moment to talk about Bellatrix again.

"I can't express the trepidation I feel that she came so close to you, Harry. If I had been any slower at the Malfoys..."

"I think we'd have been okay," I said, thinking back to that fight. "She was trying to heal me just before you came. I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure that she was genuinely trying to save my life." Dumbledore looked resolute, though.

"Whatever Bellatrix Lestrange may be, she is dangerous. Whatever she sees in you, it isn't worth the risk of exposing yourself to someone who could so easily kill you, and has all the motivation in the world to do so."

Despite the logic of Dumbledore's words, I was quite prepared to defend Bellatrix to him; Tonks looked as though she had similar thoughts, surprisingly. I was about to reply when Sirius put his hand on my shoulder from behind, and talked over me. "Is there a chance that we can all get back to Grimmauld? I'd love a comfy bed right about now, and I'm sure that these two can use the break, too."

Dumbledore looked pensive a moment before he nodded. "Yes, I believe you can. I shouldn't need any of you; I can cover for Nymphadora myself, and I had best make a trip to my office and see if anything needs a well-placed lie or rumor."

Tonks was the only one to be surprised at the Headmaster's rather statement. "The wizarding world isn't ready for half the things that Dumbledore could tell them," I whispered to her. She just nodded mutely, her jaw still slightly open. Five seconds of Dumbledore's time later, the three of us appeared in Grimmauld, and Sirius kept his hands firmly on Tonks' shoulders.

"Hermione's probably waiting for you," he said as he led Tonks toward the kitchen. I had started walking up the stairs to Hermione's room as soon as my feet had touched ground, so his comment was likely more for Tonks' sake than mine.

-----

Hermione looked as though she hadn't been sleeping well, which sent pangs of guilt burrowing through my stomach. Her eyes blearily opened as I gently shook her, but as soon as they saw me, they sharpened into focus. Without a word, her arms shot around me, and she pulled me into a massive hug.

After she calmed down at my murmured assurances, she reached up to remove my cloak, and then reached for the ties to my tunic. She methodically stripped me down, and pulled me into bed. I was far too tired to care that we were both naked; with Hermione stroking my hair gently, I faded off in minutes.

-----

It was the most luxurious feeling to wake up next to Hermione. The sensation of soft, flawless skin pressed against mine was intoxicating as I came awake, rubbing against her. She had the most serene look on her face as it rested lightly against my shoulder.

She woke to me rubbing her back slowly, and greeted me with a beatific smile. "Good morning," she said quietly, stretching her body, and pressing harder against me. "It feels wonderful to wake up to you."

"My thoughts exactly." She moved herself to be flush against me, and both of us did our best to ignore my arousal. It wasn't easy, though; eventually, Hermione simply raised her leg and trapped it between her thighs.

"It doesn't matter," she said when I found it difficult to look her in the eye. "I'm so far past ready for you now."

My confusion must have been evident on my face, because she quickly jumped to elaborate.

"I mean, I know it was just a couple months ago we were just talking about that, but it was... I ..." Tears began to pool in her eyes as she tried to marshal her words. "When you woke me up to say... goodbye, I knew... I knew it was going to be like this. Always, I mean. You're always going to disappear like this until the war is over, and I thought 'What if you don't come back?'"

"Hermione…"

"I couldn't stand thinking like that; it made me miserable. I don't know how I got back to sleep."

"I'm sorry. I know that it's not fair to you."

Hermione didn't answer that, she just held me tighter. My hands ran up and down her back and sides, sometimes going down her hips and thighs as far as I could reach. Slowly, she brought her arms around to my front, and began to rub up and down my chest. At some point, we searched out each other's mouths, and her hand slipped down to grasp me tightly. I kept my wits enough to fumble around for my wand, locking the door to the room.

Hermione attacked me with a passion I didn't think possible, her hands moving over me as if trying to memorize every detail. My hands traced along similar routes, blackened palms tracing along the perfect skin of her legs and back, gently massaging her breasts as she moaned quietly.

I was hesitant about making love; all my feelings of vulnerability aside, Hermione had just been after me in recent history not to move so fast. Hermione thoroughly quashed my reservations by taking initiative, and I submitted to her rather forceful ministrations quite willingly. There was nothing fancy to our lovemaking: A quickly muttered contraceptive charm, and a small grimace of pain from Hermione near the beginning, followed by a period of quiet timelessness where we moved against each other, punctuated by kisses and caresses. It was only after our third time, when our desires had been thoroughly satisfied and the healing charms we knew would no longer cure the soreness that we decided to stop.

Oh, I can hear the hollering from the room now: "Premarital sex and underage yet? How scandalous!" Every prude and pureblood reading this can grow the fuck up; you've all been very comfortable with Hermione and I risking our lives with Death Eaters, even back then, so you have absolutely no ground to stand on.

As the room darkened with the approaching evening, we were once again still, holding each other under the bed sheets. Hermione had been dozing in and out, content to close her eyes and curl her hands through my hair. I did much the same, though my eyes stayed open more than closed, admiring the beautiful woman next to me. I had never really thought much about sex, or any of the assorted emotions that went with it. To Hermione, our coupling likely was an extension of our earlier declaration of love, as well as a celebration of sorts that I had survived another risky venture. To me, it represented something fulfilling, a physical manifestation of positive emotions, if such a thing could exist.

My thoughts trailed back to the gang members in my old childhood haunts: They would always brag about their sexual conquests. I had thought it rather strange that these conquests all involved alcohol or drugs, or one girl with multiple boys. Back then, I classified it as a 'street-thing,' something that occurred to people that were underprivileged or somehow denied a normal life. My time with Hermione had taught me otherwise; now, after having experienced it myself, the thought of getting up and leaving, thinking nothing of the person you had just been with, knowing that they likely thought nothing of you… I nearly cried, then and there, and I reflexively held on to Hermione tighter. A small wave of satisfaction rolled through me when Hermione's hands tightened possessively around me as well.

Some things in life are worth any price.

"I should ask you how the rescue went," she said eventually, her eyes still closed.

"Well, all things considered." I relayed the basics of my trip, up until my fiery escape with Fawkes.

"Bellatrix was there," she whispered, and a shudder ran through her body.

"I really don't understand her," I said, staring at the ceiling. "One moment she's trying to kill me, the next she's healing my wounds. Now, she looked… happy to see me. I don't get it."

"She nearly killed us."

"Yeah, she did," I sighed. It would always come back to that, I decided. No matter what I thought on the matter, Bellatrix had no compunctions killing anyone else, and I had a whole list of people I needed to keep away from her.

-----

Dinner brought us down to the land of the living. Sirius and Remus wore large grins, and Tonks changed herself into a perfect likeness of Hermione and batted her eyelashes at me. Pansy and the twins wore identical, predatory looks. Ginny's face was relatively indifferent, though she did smile at Tonks' imitations.

Luna, who had joined us over the holidays, simply stared in her normal fashion, her mouth curled into a very slight smile.

Wanting to forestall any annoying comments, I clapped my hands in wide theatrical fashion, and watched as everyone scrambled to rescue their plate of food before it rose to the ceiling. With everyone else occupied, I held out Hermione's chair, and began to load up plates of our own.

"You're getting rather good at that," Luna commented as she stood on her chair to reach her plate.

I made a noise of agreement as I swallowed a mouthful of food. "Enjoy the show, it's the only spell I can do that with; anything larger than those plates, and I'd still need to vocalize it."

"It's still an amazing accomplishment," Remus said, having finished nearly half his dinner already. I had expected him to be the fastest to retrieve his plate; a non-verbal, non-focus levitation spell stands absolutely no chance against a werewolf's strength.

"Mmm-hmm," Sirius agreed, far too engrossed in eating to give a more elaborate response.

Tonks features melted back into her own as she brought her plate back to the table. "You know, I'm actually jealous," she said. "I'd have done pretty much anything to get one-on-one lessons with Dumbledore, look how far you've come."

"Ah." I put my fork down and ran my hand through my hair. "It's actually not that simple, and I'd forgotten that you don't know the story.

"Voldemort attacked my family when I was one; my mother died because she wouldn't abandon me, and that sacrifice created a backlash that caused Voldemort to 'die' when he tried to kill me. It also brought our, err, 'souls,' if you will, into direct contact. The short of it is that I adjusted to meet the onslaught, and it left me with the magical capacity you might expect of someone forty-five years of age, give or take, along with a few other perks. Dumbledore's trained me to harness that, but Voldemort gave me the edge."

"Holy shit." Tonks' exclamation was the most pronounced, but several others said it at the same time. "Small wonder you're as good as you are, then," she continued. "Any chance you can give a girl a few pointers?"

"He helps us when he can at Hogwarts," Pansy chimed in, gesturing with her fork. "Dumbledore trains him, and then he trains us. Mostly dueling, but there's some other stuff as well. Why don't you just pop in on the days we're training?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but closed it quickly and nodded instead. I thought Pansy a little quick to give out invitations, but I'd likely have suggested something similar and Tonks was already voicing her agreement, so I rolled with it. Dinner then passed relatively quickly, and while Tonks, Remus and Sirius stayed in the kitchen to share a drink, the rest of us claimed our favorite seats in the living room.

"Mum and Dad will be here tomorrow," Pansy said as she flopped onto the couch, Fred and George sitting on either side of her. "It'll be nice to be a family for at least a day."

"Yeah, it'll be good." I picked Hermione up and sat in a large, squishy chair, sitting Hermione across me. Luna and Ginny sat next to us on the loveseat; Ginny stared out into space, while Luna kept her adjusting her attention between Pansy and I.

"I like your eyes, Pansy."

Pansy looked at Luna, startled by her out-of-the-blue statement. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"They used to be light grey, like your parents. Now, they're turning quite green; it's actually very interesting, I've never seen eyes do that before. Daddy's never printed an article on changing eyes before, maybe this is something undiscovered…?"

Pansy shot a panicked look at me that I immediately returned. We both were thinking the same thing: I was the only person I knew in wizarding society with green eyes; any changes would have to have been due to my blood. Faster than I've ever seen her move, Pansy was off the couch and up the stairs, heading to her room, obviously looking for a mirror.

Hermione poked me in the arm to get my attention. "Do you think it's because of-?"

"My blood, yes."

"But why? Wasn't it her and her family that was adopting you?"

I found myself unable to answer Hermione's question. There wasn't anything formal to what Pansy and I had done; a simple sharing of blood, a token gesture to her that I was, indeed, her brother. "We weren't specific," I said eventually, my brow furrowed with thought. "It shouldn't have mattered, though; the sharing of blood between two people only momentarily mingles their magic."

"Remember that we were able to depend on that mingling for your mother's protection to recognize Pansy a blood relative and protect this house," Hermione said. "That would mean that she might be your sister now, more than you are hers."

"Isn't that just semantics?" I asked. "I recognize the existence of the blood tie, yes, but why would it affect her?"

"The magic requires a blood relative to you through your mother," Hermione persisted. "That means that your blood may have altered her enough to qualify under Dumbledore's charm."

"Wouldn't it have begun to affect the change earlier then?"

Hermione went silent for a moment, before she began to paraphrase from our lectures with Dumbledore. "Mystic alterations to the body based on a ritual pact or oath develop in the eleventh month after the pact has been activated, with final culmination after a full year has passed. The nature of the pact is apparent in the alterations present."

I found myself nodding along as she spoke, continuing her reasoning where she left off. "The pact was activated last Christmas, so it's been a year, then. Since the pact in this case concerns both blood relation and protection, it would at least partially manifest itself as an adjustment in appearance so that we more closely resembled each other. Would the protection part manifest as well, I wonder?"

"Probably not," Hermione said, shaking her head. "That part was specific to you, and it seems to have manifested in its own way." She turned my hand over, exposing the blackened palm. "I think that the fact that you're inherently stronger magically than Pansy is also contributes to the fact that she's changing to fit you, rather than you changing to fit her."

"Will she be alright?" Luna asked, her normally placid expression showing a hint of concern. I thought it the sweetest thing that despite Pansy's abrasive attitude, Luna cared about her.

"Unless I have any mysterious diseases, I think she'll be fine."

"Let's hope it ends at your eyes," Pansy's voice echoed down the stairs as she descended. "If I get your cheeks, I'm committing suicide." I put on my best indignant face, and the room shared a laugh as Pansy settled between the twins again.

I eventually shrugged my shoulders. "If Hermione's right, then it's been a year, and slightly green eyes are all you've got out of the deal."

"And if she's wrong?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then you explode." I took a thrown pillow to the face for that comment, one that I happily returned. After several minutes of flying pillows, conversation turned back to tomorrow's gathering, and the prospect of presents. It wasn't long, however, before the fiery entrance of Dumbledore and Moody interrupted us.

After exchanging pleasantries, Moody clomped through to the kitchen, his artificial leg and walking staff making a unique clip-clop sound. Dumbledore stayed behind long enough to listen to, and agree with, Hermione's theory on Pansy's new eye color. "It's the most logical explanation," he said. "It would take far too much work to rule out every possibility, but given such a blatantly obvious source, I think we can afford to be a little careless, just this once." Pansy sniggered at Dumbledore's grin and the lightness in his tone. He was in a good mood, so a little more of Albus showed through today.

"I take it everything went well at the Ministry, then?" I asked.

"Covering for Nymphadora was actually very easy," he said as he sat on the armrest of my chair. "During her entrance, Bellatrix killed every Auror between the Atrium and the courtrooms. While it is a tragedy in its own right, it also eliminated any chance of refuting Nymphadora's story. In the chaos, no one second-guessed my presence, or my story that Nymphadora exited the Atrium to inform me.

"My office is intact, and the key was replaced. Nothing is out of the ordinary so far as the Ministry is concerned, and so all suspicion concerning office break-ins and the missing prisoners has been diverted to Bellatrix."

"Sounds good," I said, allowing myself a small smile. "What will this mean for the Ministry's reaction to this?"

"I'm glad you're thinking ahead; yes, this will likely make future entry slightly more difficult, but the damage is actually less than I was preparing for." I tilted my head, and Dumbledore continued.

"Initially, I was planning on a 'mysterious disappearance' for the prisoners: You were going to get in and out undetected, with the prisoners in tow, leaving the Ministry with a mystery to solve. An unknown enemy that can break into those cells would have had the Ministry on high alert, and while that would slow us down, it would serve to limit the effectiveness of the Death Eaters' movements within the Ministry.

"With Bellatrix there to take the blame, the Ministry will focus more prominently on the escaped Azkaban prisoners, perhaps going so far as to ward against their entry. This would be a very beneficial situation, as it would not impede us at all, while forcing the Death Eaters to work by proxy alone, using the Imperius and their altered Floo Network."

I felt confident enough to take a stab at the game plan. "So, the idea is to let these measures go into effect, if they do, and let the Ministry cool down for a couple months. Then you go ahead with the Wizengamot session while I meet with the Minister, and Remus and Sirius take a shot at the Floo network?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That's the general idea, though Sirius will likely be warded against. I have Arthur and Marius working on streamlining that process, and Alastor has just informed me of the destruction of the last two Dementor control devices. All in all, despite our setbacks, we're still in a good position to accomplish our goals by stealth."

"Here's the big question," Pansy said, drawing our attention to her. "How many people are already under the Imperius?"

"Not too many," Dumbledore said, shaking his head slightly. "I've subtly probed around as much as I am able, and aside from some obvious plants in the Department of Transportation and a few general clerks, I haven't found many. It is my hope that Voldemort is being overly cautious with how fast he's moving in his takeover." The grace with which Dumbledore delivered that statement had Pansy nodding before he was finished. I felt his grip tighten on my arm, however, and he quickly excused himself to the kitchen afterwards, citing a need to talk with Sirius.

I kept my face happy and the conversation light after that, waiting a full fifteen minutes before I walked into the kitchen, looking for Butterbeer. Dumbledore and Moody were whispering quietly at the end of the table; Tonks, Remus and Sirius were doing much the same closer to me. None of the five adults looked happy in the slightest. After securing my Butterbeer, as well as one for Hermione, I walked over to Dumbledore.

"What's really going on?"

He looked at the kitchen door for a moment, before leaning closer to me. "The use of the Imperius has spread more than I would admit to your friends," he whispered. "Moreover, I have rooted out the beginnings of a completely different movement within the Ministry, one unaligned to the Death Eaters or to us. My instincts tell me that it bodes poorly for the community overall, but I have no proof yet."

I let my breath out, blinking a few times. Another faction? That can't be good.

"What does this mean for our plans?"

"It changes nothing, at least not for you," Dumbledore said. "The Floo Network must come down, now perhaps for two reasons. Once that is complete, then we might find ourselves in a slightly better position to observe the movements of this new potential adversary.

"Say nothing to your friends; this is information that I do not want passed around."

With a nod of acknowledgement, I headed back out to the living room, schooling my face into a smile. I handed Hermione her Butterbeer, and perched myself on the armrest of her chair, as Dumbledore had done. I couldn't help but yelp in surprise when Hermione pulled me into her lap, and the rest of the room shared a chuckle as I adjusted my legs to fall over one armrest, draping my head back across the other. Hermione's hands felt warm against my stomach, and I felt quite at peace.

"So, what did Dumbledore really have to say?" Pansy asked, giving me a knowing look. Here's the part I hate the most…

"Nothing much more than he said out here, really," I said with a shrug. "Gave me an idea of what I might say to Fudge, and how much I could reveal I knew to him without looking suspicious. I'm with Dumbledore a lot, so I'd need to know at least the basics, but shouldn't know details."

It was a truthful statement, even if it was a lie. Pansy bought it without question, and Luna and the Weasleys never pressed for information. Hermione, however, had a neutral-but-interested expression on her face, and her eyes were ever so slightly unfocused - evidence of Occlumency use. I felt inordinately proud of her in that moment: I had just spouted one of the smoothest lies I'd ever produced, and she'd caught it immediately.

Evening became nighttime, and soon people were trickling to bed, enthusiastic about the arrival of Christmas day. I was one of the last to head to bed, after telling Hermione about Dumbledore's concerns. Sirius and Tonks had left for the night, citing a craving for the greasy fare that Tom served at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Are you staying tonight?" she asked.

"If you want," I yawned. "I just want to sleep, though; still sore from earlier."

She nodded, smiling. "I know; me too."

Silence. Then:

"Are you happy?" The question surprised me. "With me, I mean," Hermione clarified, when I didn't immediately answer.

"Yeah. I kind of thought I expressed that rather well earlier." She giggled a little, and snuggled into my arms.

"I was just worried, you know. That maybe I was pushing…"

I snickered, running my fingers through her hair and scratching her scalp with my nails. "I can't believe all this uncertainty is coming from the girl who charmed a couple into being her parents."

That comment earned me a slap to the chest. "That's not funny!" she said, rubbing the area that she just smacked. "I was scared; I didn't know what else to do."

"It's over now, don't worry about it. Think that anyone will pitch a fit if they catch us in here tomorrow morning?" Hermione rewarded my question by tightening her arms around me, and kissing the side of my head.

"I don't care," she said. Before I could voice my agreement, my stomach announced audibly that it was still hungry, causing us both to laugh.

"Suppose I'd better put something down, so I don't wake up starving." I kissed her, and quickly redressed myself, leaving for the kitchen.

I was just leaving her room, when an impossibly strong hand pulled me to the side of the hall, away from the door.

An extreme rush of magic washed over me, and the sensation of both movement and formlessness made me nauseous; it wasn't Apparition, this was something else. The feeling stopped abruptly, and I stumbled into the storage room of Grimmauld's basement. My wand was in my hand immediately, and I whirled around, a shield charm only an instant from forming, to see who had moved me.

"No," I breathed, the charm faltering on my wand's tip. "You can't be here."

Bellatrix.

"I am," she said simply, shrugging her shoulder and brushing her long, black hair behind her. "I don't know where 'here' is, mind you; I assume that Dumbledore's protections are on this place."

"It's not possible," I reiterated, fear lending some strength to my voice. "No one associated with Voldemort can enter this place!"

A flicker of anger rose in her eyes, but her face curved into a cold smirk. "You'll find that blood can overcome most mundane forms of protection," she said.

"Fawkes!" I cried, my shield springing to life. Calling for strength, I lifted a table in my left hand, waiting for the Cruciatus or Avada Kedavra I was sure would come.

"No!" she cried. "Wait!" An unknown curse -or charm, perhaps-shattered my shield to pieces, and she moved forward with unbelievable speed, clamping down on my wrist hard enough to prevent any retaliation from me. At the same time, Fawkes appeared in a burst to my left, and clamped his claws around my shoulder. A string of invectives from Bellatrix matched the phoenix's battle cry, and I was suddenly at in the middle of a tug-of-war. The flames of Fawkes' teleportation battling the shadows of whatever method Bellatrix was using to travel, likely what Snape had used around me earlier in the year.

I was in no small amount of pain, the two magics conspiring to tear me in half. Through the pain, though, my mind finally grasped the ramifications of Bellatrix's presence.

If she's here, she's not trying to hurt me.

The door to the room blew apart, and Dumbledore stormed in. I could see Hermione through the doorway, standing in a hastily donned robe. She stared at me with a terrified look on her face, her hand shaking as she tried to level her wand. I needed to tell them that Bellatrix couldn't be here to harm me; I needed to get Fawkes to let go; I needed to get Bellatrix to stop trying to move me; I needed time that I didn't have.

A curse blew Fawkes off my shoulder, but Bellatrix abandoned her own attempt at travel to shield against the powerful spells of Dumbledore - a damned impressive feat. I wrenched my arm free, and let go of the table, opening my mouth to speak.

"Stay clear!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!"

My world exploded in green light, then red; everything became a blur as my glasses shattered, creating a glittering kaleidoscope of Christmas colors: Green, red and silvery white. My last thoughts were confusion at how I ended up on the ground, but how soft and cool it was against my feverish skin. My hands felt like they had melted, and my head… A wonderful blackness stole the colors away, devouring the pain and the heat, and I fell into blissful oblivion.

-----

Taken from Hermione's memories:

A surge of power outside her room had her dressed and out immediately, but there was no trace of anything when she opened her door. Where did Harry get to so quickly?

A muffled cry of "Fawkes!" sent Hermione racing down the stairs. Only Harry or Dumbledore could call for the phoenix like that. As she passed the living room, Dumbledore appeared, wand glowing with power. Had he still been up?

He raced past her to the kitchen, all but flying down the stairs, sending the door to the storage room exploding inwards. Hermione followed as quickly as she dared, and she was quickly level with the door-

Harry! She wanted to scream, but her breath hitched, and her muscles betrayed her. In front of her was one of her worst nightmares come true: The house's defenses were not absolute; Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the house, and now she and Fawkes fought over Harry. Her own wand shook in her hand, and she slowly brought it up. While the three struggled, it was pointless to cast. Suddenly, Bellatrix had cursed Fawkes, and then she and Dumbledore began to duel…

Harry broke away from Bellatrix. This was her chance.

"Stay clear!" Dumbledore yelled, stepping in to continue the duel. The shadows were growing again around Bellatrix, though, and Hermione knew without a doubt she would escape. This Death Eater, who had nearly killed her, who now had almost taken Harry from her, would escape, and she would do it again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Her spell was unfocused, unpracticed, but her aim was true. A jagged viridian line of lethal eldritch energy arced toward Bellatrix; Dumbledore fell to the side; he and Harry screamed "NO!" at the same time.

Then Harry was moving, pushing Bellatrix into her shadows, his body now in the path of the curse, his arms raised in defense. Hermione's blood froze. No, not him, anyone but him. Not Harry. I don't want it! NO!

A brilliant flash; silvery-white flames erupted along his forearms, and the sickly green curse pooled against them, like water. Bellatrix fell fully into the shadows, vanishing. Harry's glasses exploded in flash of red light, the glow settling around Harry, encompassing his body, diffusing the curse that pressed against his arms.

Then Harry fell, and the curse exploded in a bright white light, throwing Hermione to the ground.

-----

The stiffness in my back told me that I was still on the floor long before I opened my eyes. I recalled the blur of spellfire that had dropped me, and the call of 'Avada Kedavra.' I wasn't dead, though, that was for sure. I groaned as I sat up, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the light; the room was slightly out of focus, but I could make out the basics.

To my side, Fawkes lay still, his breathing slow and rhythmic. Dumbledore was sprawled into a corner, clearly unconscious. I staggered over to him, checking for a pulse and breath. He was alive, but his breathing was very shallow. I turned and rummaged around for my wand, finding it near the middle of the room on the floor. I summoned and repaired my glasses, and then turned back to Dumbledore.

What few medical spells I knew told me very little: Bruised ribs, a severe concussion, and extreme shock. I quickly stepped out of the room, remembering that Hermione had been here, too. I found her thrown against the side of the hall, small pieces of stonework missing from the wall where she impacted. My healing charms worked much better with her, and I quickly repaired her fractured skull and removed the effects of the concussion she no doubt had. Once Hermione was in one piece, I laid her gently down again, and went back to Fawkes.

A simple Renervate charm woke the nearly invulnerable phoenix, and he immediately righted himself, squawking with indignation. "Fawkes, I need you to take Professor Dumbledore back to the Hospital Wing," I said, motioning to the unconscious headmaster. "He needs more help that I can give him." Fawkes moved almost before I had finished speaking, bounding over to Dumbledore with a flap of his wings. With a burst of flame, they were gone.

It occurred to me that the rest of the house should have woken to the sounds of a duel; perhaps whatever had rendered Dumbledore and Hermione unconscious had echoed through the house. Still, with Hermione in much more reasonable shape compared to Dumbledore, no one further away would have injuries. Given what had just happened, I wasn't too keen on more company, anyways.

I walked back to Hermione, waking her before stowing my wand away. She blinked and looked up at me, and tears began to trail down her face. Before I could even bend down, she launched herself at me, grabbing me into a fierce hug, and breaking into horrendous sobs. It stunned me for a moment; I'd been so used to her hiding her emotions with Occlumency that to see her crying openly was terribly disconcerting. She soon brought her crying under control, though, and pulled away, rising to her feet.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her grip tight around my collar. "I didn't mean to-to… then you stepped in the way… I thought I'd killed you!"

"I'm here, I'm here. It's alright…" Over the course of several minutes, Hermione and I traded versions of what happened, and I assured her that I was alive and that I forgave her. I kept that conversation as minimalistic as possible, keeping Hermione focused on Bellatrix.

"I'm really surprised that she'd try to-"

"Harry, your hands!" Startled by Hermione's cry, I looked down. My hands were now completely black, top and bottom. Fiery trails tapered off halfway up my forearms, making it looks as if I'd plunged them into a furnace. Small wisps of silvery fire played up and down the blackness, though my skin remained undamaged. It shocked me for a moment, but I eventually shrugged.

"Yeah, so I'm scarred a little more," I said with a grin. "I'm still here, that's all I care about."

"God, I feel-"

"-Like shit," I finished, getting slightly annoyed. "Yes, I gathered. If you'll remember, I tried to kill Ginny when Voldemort possessed her, so I know exactly how shitty that feels. Do me a favor, love: Use your Occlumency and push it way back; don't think about it. I promise I'll cover this a bit in our sessions with the others. I know it's hard, but please, let it go."

Hermione winced a little, but nodded. Soon, she closed her eyes, and her features became blank as she moved her memories around. The hairs of my neck rose; I turned to see the shadows warp, and Bellatrix emerged, not five feet behind me, looking quite surprised to see me up and in one piece. Hermione's eyes snapped open as the shadows receded, and both women went for their wands, Bellatrix the faster by far.

My fear long gone, that sense of familiarity washed over me. I placed a hand on both of their wand arms. "Not now," I whispered. "Please." Both Hermione and Bellatrix began to talk at the same time.

"We must speak."

"Leave him alone."

"Quiet!" I hissed, glancing back up the stairs. If Fawkes had roused Madam Pomfrey, then Dumbledore would be here within minutes. "Listen, whatever you want will have to wait. If Dumbledore gets back and you're still here, the two of you will level the house."

"Harry-" I cut her off, desperate to make her leave.

"I'll find you later, or you'll find me."

"Not alone!" Hermione whispered harshly. "You can't go to her alone!"

"Fine, we'll… we'll work something out. Just not now; please?" Bellatrix flicked her eyes back and forth between Hermione and me as if looking at a puzzle. Finally, she nodded slightly.

"When you're ready, go to Knockturn Alley," she said. "Bring your… lover, if you wish, as she's likely tied into all this now."

"Fine, but go, please."

I let go of Bellatrix's arm, and she took my hand in hers, stroking it for a moment with her thumb and staring at the small flickers of flame, before the shadows around her again enlarged, engulfing her and receding into the wall.

Commotion in the kitchen above us alerted me to the likely return of Dumbledore. "Not a word about this," I whispered to Hermione. "This is ours to deal with."

"But-"

"Trust me, please."

Hermione nodded and kissed her lightly, as Dumbledore came down the stairs, wand at the ready.

"You're alive!" he breathed, seeming to shrink with relief.

"I'm fine," I said, holding up my hands. "Looks like I've lucked out again. Let's go back up to the kitchen. Believe it or not, this all started because I was hungry."

Dumbledore managed a weak smile at my humor, and I led us all back into the kitchen, my arm around Hermione. The clock on the wall read five past twelve.

Happy Christmas, I thought. I've survived to see you again.