Knife's Edge

Celtic55

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 10/11/2013
Last Updated: 04/02/2015
Status: completed

They carried the war them; each in their own ways. On the surface so many had moved on, but deep beneath they were soldiers plagued by their own demons. When Hermione receives an anonymous death threat it seems only natural that she should seek Harry to work together to solve the dilemma. But as Harry's behavior becomes erratic it seems that he might be the one in need of saving. The truth behind what they are about to face is greater than any of them could have foreseen. Unlikely allies and unheard of enemies emerge as secrets of Tom Riddle's life re-surface and nobody is safe. Moves from cannon, no epilogue.

Chapters

1. Chapter 1: Memories Best Left Uncelebrated

2. Chapter 2: Truth in a Shade of Grey

3. Chapter 3:Silver and Gold

4. Chapter 4: The Serpent's Tongue

5. Chapter 5: My Enemy's Enemy

6. Chapter 6: The Deserter

7. Chapter 7: Sympathy for the Devil

8. Chapter 8: Ashes to Ashes

9. Chapter 9: A Journey Through Time and Space

10. Chapter 10: Once More Into the Fray

11. Chapter 11: Paris in Flames

12. Chapter 12: Forever

13. Chapter 13: Redemption

14. Double Edged Sword

15. Chapter 15: From Whence We Came

16. Chapter 16: Secrets That Kill

17. Chapter 17: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

18. Chapter 18: Wounds Too Deep

19. Chapter 19: Poison

20. Chapter 20: Self-Serving

21. Chapter 21: Of Cold Places and Cold Boys

22. Chapter 22: Blood and Snow

23. Chapter 23: Let It Burn

24. Chapter 24: You Without Me

25. Chapter 25: The Truth About Destiny

1. Chapter 1: Memories Best Left Uncelebrated

CHAPTER 1: Memories Best Left Uncelebrated

The extravagance of the whole affair was fairly nauseating. She stood high above the decadent crowds of beaming faces and bodies adorned in silk and other rich fabrics. The colorful gowns of the women stood in stark contrast to the black and charcoal grey dress robes of the men around them, and she took an almost neutral point of observation to their movements as though she were a scientist studying bacteria in a petri dish.

Well that's unfair she admonished herself, furrowing her brow as she leaned over the marble banister of the balcony that had offered her a moment of reprieve from the gossip and false worship of those below. She had stolen off with the excuse of needing to use the loo, but in reality she had snagged a glass of champagne and found refuge high above the ballroom.

It wasn't that she didn't like lavish affairs. True, she was often considered to be plain in her tastes, and perhaps the years she had spent flanked by her two male best friends had given her a touch of roughness. Nevertheless, she liked an excuse to tame her curly hair, adorn herself in a nice gown and test herself against the dangers presented by a sexy pair of stiletto heels.

No, it wasn't the classiness of the event that perturbed Hermione Granger. It was the reminder of all that had been lost. It was what this whole affair represented. While she would never classify herself as angst ridden or besotted with the traumas of war, she was a veteran by all definitions of the phrase, and this annual celebration of the downfall of Voldemort could only create a certain feeling of apprehension for those who remembered the bloodshed and terror it had cost them.

The Ministry had wanted to honor its heroes, and this tradition of the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Ball had originally started as a small ceremony to restore morale, but now that five years had passed since the battle, there had been a certain degree of escalation in frivolity. For many who had fought in the battle and remembered the horrors of that night, the event felt out of sorts. It was mostly a bunch of adoring wealthy witches and wizards and petty government officials lavishing their affections on those who had fought. And if that wasn't enough, the media was a head splitting shit show.

Some didn't seem to mind so much however. For example, she could see her best friend and now ex- boyfriend Ron far below enjoying the company of half a dozen supermodel-esque women who seemed to cling to his every word. Hermione smirked in spite of herself, remembering that it had not been so long ago when women like Fleur Delacore would positively turn their nose up at a boy like Ron Weasley. But he had grown into his gangly figure, and even his freckles gave him an attractive, boyish appearance. Although, perhaps it was his new fortune they most admired as he had helped bring Weasley Wizard Wheezes to a new level of profit in the past few years. Or, maybe girls were just suckers for war heroes.

Surprisingly, her split with Ron had caused very little friction between the two of them or the Weasley clan. In fact, the incessant bickering between the two had left many of Weasleys quite glad when the couple decided to go back to being “just friends”. There was still no “just” about it though- nobody went through the things she, Harry and Ron had experienced without developing a deep bond. Just that morning she had joined the Weasley family in bringing flowers to Fred's grave, and they had all cried and held each other with the intensity the only those who have experienced death together can share.

Ron seemed to be past his grief however, as she watched him casually tuck a strand of hair behind one of the girl's ear and she laughed flirtatiously. Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled in spite of herself. Ron's grief was never truly behind him, but he had found comfort in the knowledge that Fred would never have wanted him to miss out on the pleasures of life. Ron had re-found his sense of humor almost as a way of reconnecting with his deceased brother. Ron suddenly looked up at her, squinting as though to make out a distant object. She was quite high up. She waved calmly back and he smiled, raising his glass to her in a short salute before returning to his conversation.

“I have never been much good at these things” said a familiar voice from behind her.

“Hello Professor” she said with a smile, not turning around as she sensed a tall man approach her side.

“Oh, don't call me that” the brown haired man blushed. “I'm better off just plain old Neville Longbottom.”

“But I've heard you're doing great things for the herbology program at Hogwarts” she said, admiration clear in her voice as she turned to look up at the now tall and slender man who had once been an awkward, pudgy faced boy. Neville still retained an element of awkwardness, but it had a certain sweetness to it.

“I can only hope to be half the teacher Professor Sprout was” he disagreed with great humility.

“Oh Neville, when will you learn to take a compliment?” she laughed, bumping his arm playfully.

“Well, you're the one who deserves the praise. The Ministry was in great turmoil after the war, you've done a lot already to amend some of those archaic laws.”

She shrugged, “you just need to have a stomach for politicians and a stubborn will. And I am nothing, if not stubborn.” He grinned now, knowing this was quite true from her many adventures with Harry and Ron, and having seen the way she could go at it with Ron in an argument. There was nobody quite like his friend Hermione.

She drained the remnants of her champagne glass and wrinkled her nose with distaste at the waltz beneath them. “Is it bad that I just cannot bring myself to dance?”

“I thought you liked to dance?”

“I do... but not tonight.”

He nodded with solemn understanding. Few people had lost more at the hands of Voldemort than Neville Longbottom. He had never been much of one for dressing up and accepting praise, but this memorial ball was even worse than all that. He wanted to celebrate the triumphs of that night, but somehow he always found his mind buried beneath the losses. He eyed her empty glass and realized his own Butterbeer was a bit light in his hand. “Refill?” he asked and she nodded with a kind smile.

As Neville retreated from the balcony she found herself lost in watching those below her once more, making a game of trying to spot out her friends. So many years she had spent growing up with these people; sharing meals in the Great Hall, late nights buried under homework in the library, or chilly afternoons crowded in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. She knew many of her friends more closely than most siblings would ever really know each other. Yet, since the war it seemed they had all been scattered off into different directions. It was as though each had been too tormented to stand the reminder presented by the faces of their own friends.

But maybe that's just me she thought sullenly as she picked Ginny out from the crowd, her fiery hair flowing as she swirled across the dance floor with Seamus Finnegan. Hermione was willing to admit that she was one for overthinking things, and the relative calm after the storm was nearly maddening. She had buried herself in mountains of work just to keep from letting the silence creep up on her. No more late nights solving riddles in the library, or adventures under the invisibility cloak, her heart beating furiously beside Ron and Harry...

Harry she thought with a pang. Her best friend with his raven black hair, his fierce green eyes and his unwavering courage. She had never known anyone like him. It wasn't just that he had defeated Voldemort, it was that he had taught them all to be better. He was the little, unloved orphan boy who grew up to love and be loved by so many. He had overcome each obstacle and rarely allowed himself a moment of pity. She had learned more in her seven years of knowing Harry Potter than she did from the countless books she had read.

She didn't miss being scared, or watching him nearly die. She didn't miss the sleepless nights of feeling that her, Ron and Harry were the only barrier between good and evil. And she certainly didn't miss all the nights of camping and searching endlessly for the horocruxes, and watching Harry change as he came closer and closer to the reality that he would probably not live. But God she did miss Harry when he was gone, and he was almost always gone.

Hearing someone approaching from behind her she tried to shake her sadness and was thankful Neville was back with a drink for her. “That was quick” she smiled softly.

“Quick? I don't think many would agree” said a voice that was very clearly not Neville Longbottom. She turned quickly, shocked to recognize Harry Potter, standing there dressed smartly in a black tuxedo, his green eyes watching her with a degree of caution just barely masked by an easy smile. He still couldn't hide his feelings from her.

“It's been six months since I've heard from you!” she sputtered, suddenly wishing she still had her empty champagne glass to hurl at his head. “This is certainly the last place I would expect to see you.”

“Are you not happy to see me?” he asked, his tone filled with all the sadness of an orphan brought up to feel unloved. This, however, simultaneously made her heart break while once more wanting to hurl something at him.

“Of course I'm glad to see you” she sighed, turning away, unable to look at him much longer. He was such a complex source of happiness and pain; it was easier not to be pulled in by his familiar face and pleading eyes.

“I only came because you asked me to” he responded, his footsteps indicating he was drawing nearer. “You know how much I love dancing.”

She smiled lightly, remembering the look on Parvati's face as Harry repeatedly squashed her toes at the Yule Ball. Sensing her grin, he moved slightly closer and she felt herself relax in his presence. It had always been hard for her to stay mad at him for very long. “I've missed you” she said suddenly. “I would have sent you about a thousand howlers if I'd known where you were.”

“I'm sorry” was all he said in response, his tone heavy. After the war he had become quickly wrapped up in life as an Auror. Voldemort was gone, but all evil did not follow him to the grave and Harry's expertise in such matters became heavily sought out from across the world. At first he argued very extensively that his evil fighting days had always been a team effort, and that he would be useless without Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley at his side. But he did not want them to get involved, and ultimately could not stand to think that people anywhere in the world were suffering.

Hermione, for her part, had no interest in chasing evil anymore. It had left her weary in many ways, and not quite herself. Many nights she would wake up screaming, remembering the faces of the dead or reliving the pain of old wounds. She found herself better suited for the battles of the Ministry, which were equally exhausting on many levels, but less bloody.

She looked at him now, leaning against the railing of the balcony, his eyes studying those moving below with a sort of detachment. He had changed significantly since the last battle. Physically, he had grown into a more manly stature with wide shoulders and the dark shadow of recently shaved stubble. But it was his eyes that told her of all the horrors he had seen.

“I wish you would stop” she said abruptly, sliding her hand into his unexpectedly. Over the years their friendship had adjusted to take on a strange sort of physical comfort. Harry had always been uncomfortable with being embraced, but something about her allowed him relax. When he wasn't away fighting evil it wasn't uncommon to see one grab the others hand, or for him to put his arm around her. Even when they walked there was always a comfortable proximity as her arm might brush against his and such. To them, it was such a normal closeness that neither seemed to even give it much thought.

“You say this every time” he reminded her. “You know I can't just... stop helping people.”

“You could, if you realized how much damage you're doing yourself. You won't be in any shape to help anyone if you wind up dead. Or for that matter, insane.”

“I'm fine” he scoffed, nudging her gently. “Do I look like I'm dying?”

And now she turned to look fully into his face and it was almost painful for a moment. Of course he didn't look like he was dying. He looked handsome and healthy; his black hair carefully brushed for once, his mouth curved into a perfect smile as he looked at her. But it was the look in his eyes, as though he was dreadfully tired that worried her. She looked away from his eyes and back down to the dance floor.

“What?” he asked, his tone tired.

“Nothing” she replied shortly. She knew it would do no good to get into it with him. She rarely saw him anymore, he was always off fighting some darkness and even when he was back it was never long before he had to go again. She tried to smile to lighten up the mood. “Let's try to have a good night.”

She couldn't help but remember the last time she had seen him. It was scarred into her mind, and she didn't know how he expected her to be okay after it all. She had spent the last months caught between worrying that he was mad at her and worrying that he was dead. And now he came walking in like it was just any other day. But at least was able to walk. And breath. And live. She remembered it all so vividly now...

She kicked the door open to her flat with a grunt of exhaustion. She had a pile of books in her arms so heavy that her biceps were screaming in agony and it was times like these when she wished she had a boyfriend to help her carry her belongings in and say soothing things about her day. Instead, she was greeted by blood on the floor.

She dropped the books heavily, but silently, on a nearby table in the hallway. She carefully drew her wand, listening to the quiet house. If it weren't for the blood she wouldn't have known anyone had entered. The house was soundless, and everything was precisely where she had left it. Clearly, it hadn't been a break in, which meant only one thing. Harry.

Feeling panicked she began to follow the blood trail, paling as the dark red puddles grew in size as she approached the staircase. She heard the shower turn on from above, the first sound since she had opened the door, and she let out a heavy sigh of relief. He wasn't dead.

Storming up the stairs she hastily opened the white door separating her from her best friend. She was not concerned about him being naked; at this point they had each seen a fair share of each other between changing and healing wounds. He was already in the shower, and she could barely make out the blurry silhouette of his darkened figure through the glass of the shower door.

“Are you alright?” was the first thing she asked.

“Yes, I took some of that healing potion you keep brewed in the medicine cabinet.”

“I keep brewed for YOU” she responded, an edge coming into her voice. “And aren't you lucky for that? Otherwise, would I have come home to the pleasant surprise of my best friend laying dead in a pool of blood?”

He didn't respond, the hiss of the shower continuing as hot steam filled the room. “I could honestly kill you if I weren't so happy you're okay” she mumbled in frustration.

He grabbed a fluffy white towel from outside the shower and stepped out with it wrapped around his hips. She glanced at him a moment, noticing the way the water made his black hair stick out even more wildly than usual. He still had the slender, athletic build of a seeker, but auror training had coupled that with hard muscle. His work as an auror had also added a fair share of scars to the mix.

Realizing she was staring at him her eyes drifted up to his emerald green gaze. He looked exhausted, and she wasn't surprised, he had lost a lot of blood. But more than tired, he looked deeply sad. “I'm sorry” he said softly. “I just don't have anywhere else to go.”

It wasn't entirely true. The Weasley family would gladly take him in any time. But she knew that he felt guilty for the loss of Fred. And aside from that, he really had no family left.

She wanted to embrace him, but his apparent lack of clothing made her think better of it. She left him alone to get cleaned up, but once in the solitude of her own room, she slumped to the floor in a feeling of despair. What if she had forgotten to brew some healing potions? What if he hadn't been able to make it back at all? His life was so tenuous, and while she'd never tell him, it was physically and emotionally exhausting being the only person he really trusted.

“Harry Potter!” exclaimed a voice, and they both turned to see that Neville had arrived with drinks in hand. Hermione had nearly forgotten about him. “This must be the first time you've made it to one of these elegant galas.”

“Well you know... work” Harry finished lamely as Hermione eagerly took the champagne flute he was offering. “But it's good to see you Neville.”

“You too Harry” he grinned. “Makes me glad I bothered to come out tonight.”

“Not one for the spotlight eh?” Harry asked, knowing perfectly well that Neville Longbottom was far from the fancy sort.

“You're the hero” Neville muttered. “Not me.” Harry paled at this but said nothing. Hermione knew that despite all he had been through, Harry did not think of himself as a hero. In fact, she was probably the only one who knew that secretly, Harry thought himself a murderer and could not get past the blood he felt was constantly on his hands.

They lapsed into silence as they drank. “Did you want to dance?” Harry asked Hermione.

“No” she said sadly. For the thousandth time that month she felt like she didn't know herself. Why can't I just move on? she pondered. Books and cleverness... that's all I ever was.... all I'll ever be. The rest have moved on- found love, found purpose. But I'm still stuck.

Sensing her mood, Harry suddenly took her hand. The gesture was almost surprisingly protective- Harry's emotions had always been difficult to read. Somehow he had survived the Dursleys without becoming bitter and cruel, but love did not come as easily to him as some might imagine. He had never had a real role model for loving relationships growing up. Still, he was capable of being very sweet towards her, and at times she wondered about it.

They bid farewell to Neville and apparated back to Hermione's home, her hand still in his. “Do you mind if I stay?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The guest bed is made up for you as usual” she responded, pulling her stiletto heels off and chucking them to the floor in an uncharacteristically lazy manner.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, his tone half laughing and half concerned.

“A little” she sighed. “I'm mostly just... tired.”

“Tired? Sounds like more than tired.”

“It's a hard time of year” she shrugged. Harry silently nodded his agreement. He gave her a curious look, and opened his mouth as though he were about to say something important, but all that came out was “good night”.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

There was a screaming, so terrible that it seemed to pierce through her soul. “There's no hope” she thought, “darkness always wins.”

She awoke suddenly, clutching to her blankets as a cold feeling of hopelessness spread through her. It took her a few moments to realize that the screaming had not ceased. She sprung from her mattress, navigating the darkness with ease as she made her way to the guest bedroom at the end of the hallway. She opened the door and the noise escalated. It was Harry, and his screams had subsided to a raspy shout, “they're all dead” he kept saying over and over again.

She shook him hard, trying to awake him, not realizing she was crying as she did so. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and his hand was around her throat. She choked, reaching to his hand, trying to pry it from her. “Harry” she barely managed to whimper, as his green eyes stared into her unfeelingly.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone and she was coughing uncontrollably. He blinked hard, and then blinked again. Slowly he looked at his hand and a look of horror spread across his features.

“What did I do?” he asked, his voice so filled with pain that he reminded her of a little boy. She had regained her breath and she tried to reach out to him, but he moved away quickly, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked from his hand to her. “Oh God” he whimpered.

“It was an accident Harry” she said, her voice still hoarse.

“No... no...” he stood up from the bed in panic and then turned from her quickly, packing his things that were scattered on the floor. “I'm becoming like him.”

“Like who?” she asked, alarm filling her. He didn't respond. “It was an accident Harry!” she shouted.

“Something is changing in me” he said hurriedly, and then he disappeared into thin air.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Draco Malfoy noted with faint disgust that he had stepped in a puddle of blood and had tracked red footprints several paces across the glossy hardwood floor. He gazed down at the mess, the orange smoldering embers of the nearby fireplace casting an eerie glow across the otherwise shadowy library. By the standards of many, the estate of Atonin Dolohov was considered impressive. The library was a circular room with shelves of books that rose up to an incredible height, a large dark wood antique desk, and a massive hearth adorned with silver serpents and dragons. This was all very luxurious, but to Draco Malfoy it was a faint glimmer of what Malfoy Manner had to offer.

Draco cleaned away the footprints with a quick wave of his wand. He did not need to leave evidence of his less than pleasant visit. Surely the aurors would arrive shortly, and if there was one thing the Malfoy name did not need to be associated with it was a murder. The fact that it was the murder of a Death Eater could only further complicate matters. As defectors, the Malfoy name was no longer loved by Death Eaters, but forgiveness was also far from complete on the side of “good”.

What is “good” anyways? Draco scoffed to himself. He had never known the answer to that question, and doubted that the dead body of Antonin Dolohov would provide any further insight. With a quick sweep of his black cloak Draco turned into the darkness and vanished into the night.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry had apparated from Hermione's house to the only place he could think to go; Grimmauld Place. Appearing in the darkened hallway the scent of dust and cobwebs and decay rose to his senses. He rarely ever came here anymore. There were far too many ghosts left behind- it was a place of darkness and sorrow. Often Harry wished he could burn it to the ground, but then a part of him realized it was the last remaining connection he had to Sirius, and so on occasion he found himself wandering the halls; just another ghost.

He pondered sleep but knew it would not come, so instead he made his way to the gloomy kitchen where he scoured the empty cupboards until he found what he was looking for; a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey. It was a remnant from Grimmauld Place's previous owner, Sirius Black. Harry poured himself an ample glass and raised it in salute to the invisible presence of his Godfather. “Here's to you Sirius. I sure wish you were here... or my parents... or Remus... or Dumbledore...” he trailed off with a burning gulp of the fiery liquid.

It didn't help to list all the dead, but he couldn't help but feel a stinging sense of loneliness. He had always had someone to turn to when the questions became difficult to answer. For years it had been his exceedingly wise Headmaster, and then there had been his Godfather and even his werewolf ex-professor. But now he was truly on his own, and there was no doubt that darkness was on the rise again.

He wanted to have the comfort of Ron or Hermione at his side, but asking them to join him in his missions was unthinkable. The fact that the two of them had survived their teenaged escapades was nothing short of a miracle, and his time as an auror had further cemented that realization into his mind. He could not bring them back into the line of fire, not only because he couldn't bare anymore blood on his hands, but because they were not trained for this sort of fighting.

Without a doubt, Hermione and Ron could hold their own in duels... especially Hermione who was not only fast but filled with a compendium of knowledge when it came to spells. Nevertheless, these recent attacks Harry had been investigating were different. He couldn't fully explain why but there was sense that the magic was something old, something unusual, and something very deadly.

He thought about this and what he ought to do next as he sipped his drink. There was also the issue of his own sanity, an issue which had become perfectly evident with his actions that night. He shuddered as he remembered the look of shock in Hermione's eyes as he choked her. What she didn't realize, and what he never wanted her to know, was that he had been fully conscious for a good portion of it. He had known what he was doing, had felt the pulse of her heart racing helplessly in his palm... and he had liked it.

As he admitted this to himself he felt like he might vomit. His best friend, possibly the person he loved most the world, had been hurt by his own hands and he had felt satisfaction and a cold sense of malice. For the first time in his life, he had known the sick lust Tom Riddle must have felt for pain and cruelty. No, it wasn't the first time he admitted, draining his glass.

A week before he had investigated the crime scene of a murdered former Death Eater. The body had been severed open with a spell that nobody could detect, but was clearly dark magic. Blood had spilled out across the lawn where the Death Eater had attempted to flee, and as Harry looked down at the slick blackened blood glistening in the moonlight, he had realized he was smiling. Upon realization the smile felt strange upon his face- rigid and cruel- the same smile he had once seen on Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets.

When Harry had watched Voldemort die, it had been with a mixture of shock, relief and even pity. But never happiness. Something was changing in him, something that had manifested into his dreams; dreams of blood of murder and screams of torture. He needed help, but he didn't know what could even be done. I'm going mad he decided, refilling his glass.

As he attempted to drown his fears in another glass of alcohol there was a sudden burning at his wrist. Nothing painful, but a warm sensation radiating from a band that he wore there. This band was a symbol of the aurors and could be removed by nobody, magic or otherwise. It grew hot when an auror was being called in to the office. So much for a few days off he thought, but without much disdain. Work was really the only place he felt right anymore, the only place he could escape all the ghosts and the memories and fears and nightmares. He slung his jacket back over his shoulders and apparated from the quiet house, leaving the ghosts to wander alone once more.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

After Harry had left, Hermione found sleep equally impossible. At first she was flustered about what had happened, then enraged that he had just left without the chance to talk to him about it, then worried about what was wrong with him and scared that she may not see him for a very long time, and that he might not be okay.

Thus she found herself doing the only thing she ever did when upset; she studied. Her house was everything she had always dreamed it would be. As many little girls often will, Hermione Granger had spent many hours daydreaming about her ideal home. She had pictured a place with character; an old house with wooden floors, Oriental carpets, and antique furniture. She imagined a cozy place that was warm and filled with books, plush sofas and lots of windows to let in light. She envisioned a large back yard near a babbling brook with old, shady trees and lots of quiet gardens. She had imagined a giant kitchen with gleaming clean appliances and cooking utensils. And she had gotten all of that. Of course, she had also imagined a man who she would cook for in that giant kitchen, who she might open a bottle of wine with on that plush sofa, take walks with around the massive yard, and make good use to her large bed with. But a girl can't have everything she thought dismissively, making her way to her study.

Besides, she was plenty busy with her work; she hardly noticed the harshness solitude can bring to many. And when she wasn't piled in legal motions and other ministry related battles, she was dealing with Harry bleeding all over the place. Her life was not full of too many dull moments. Nevertheless, on nights like these the house felt too big for her, and she wondered if it was mistake getting it. She had not been in the market for a home, she was only 21 when she had bought it... or to be more accurate, Harry had bought it for her.

She had been visiting the wizarding village of Avonville to deal with an issue of magical creature rights. What had started as a battle for House Elves had lead into a slur of other concerns such as proper licensing and housing of magical creatures, protection of muggle born status in the wizarding world, and even fair trial representation for minority groups (squibs for example). The case in Avonville was nothing particularly exciting, simply a meeting about the proper treatment of confined Hyppogriffs. While there she had decided to take a walk to clear her head and get some fresh air while taking in the quaint village's surroundings. As she strolled aimlessly about, she found the house for sale, and immediately she recognized it as everything she had dreamed of as a girl. Of course, the ministry wasn't renowned for having high paychecks (one could just ask Mr. Weasley to attest to this), so with a heavy heart she realized she would never be able to afford it.

It had been Harry who insisted on buying it for her when she mentioned it to him in passing. Harry was absurdly wealthy, though few would guess by his typically humble attire and quiet lifestyle. She was firm on dismissing his offer, but he managed to battle it out with her logically, maintaining that it would be good for him to have an occasional place to stay and that he had no desire to own a house of his own since he would always be gone.

“I'm nearly always away on work” he had argued calmly. “Just keep a guest bedroom for me; it will be a great help to me in the end.”

“You could just buy your own place you know. You could buy a dozen new places if you wanted” she laughed, allowing him to win her over.

“I still have Grimmauld Place” he responded with a shrug, something in his tone clearly suggesting this was not a place he wanted to stay anyways.

Finally she agreed that she would allow him to loan her the money on the condition that he also allow her to pay him back. He acquiesced, and each month she transferred money into his account, slowly repaying the debt. Of course, she doubted if he even noticed the money being added.

And so she was 23, single, and owner to a large, quiet house. I should just get a dog or something she thought with a small amount of amusement. Her parents visited occasionally, but ever since she had restored their memory something was slightly off. They knew she had hundreds of dark, dangerous secrets she could not tell them and it had made their relationship strained.

She had arrived at her study, a cozy room with bookshelves crammed packed and a large, very clean and organized desk. She had a stack of work to get through that nearly went past her head, and so she dug into the first file, a case in which a squib was claiming that he had been unfairly framed for theft through the use of the imperious curse.

After about a half hour of reading through the files she determined that it was all a farce and nothing that added up to a civil rights case in terms of “unfair treatment”. The squib in question was a notorious thief and had been of clear and present mind when the actions were committed. She rolled her eyes and was about to move onto the next folder when there was a scratching sound at her window.

A black owl with large golden eyes hooted at her, and she opened the window cautiously, permitting it to enter. It dropped an envelope at her desk and then swooped back out the window without a moment of hesitation. She wondered if it was from Harry, but there was no name on the envelope to determine handwriting by. Carefully she opened it and nearly gasped. Written in bold, dark handwriting it said:

IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, UNSEAL THE DEATH EATER DOCUMENTS. THIS IS NOT A REQUEST. DO AS WE SAY OR YOUR HAND WILL EASILY BE FORCED.

The Death Eater Documents she thought, her mind racing. An odd outcome of her position at the ministry had required that she protect the civil rights of those Death Eaters who had been pardoned by the ministry. At first she had protested, claiming that she could not be unbiased in protecting the rights of those who had once conspired with a group who that killed her friends and led her to much suffering. But it had not been in her power to refuse the assignment, and so she had helped ensure that court cases involving former Death Eaters were fair and equal. In doing this, she had sealed all documents detailing their testimonies and past involvement. While some Death Eater families (like the Malfoys) were too prominent to escape the ridicule and judgment of others, many Death Eaters had been quiet about their involvement. Hermione had sealed the documents so that no employers, medical professionals, school systems, etc. could judge them based on past transgressions.

Unlike in the muggle world, a sealed document was truly inaccessible except to the person who had sealed it. Had anyone needed to access these records (take for example, an auror), only Hermione could show them, and they could only be seen in her presence. Otherwise, they would appear as a bunch of blank pages. They were kept in a vault at the ministry, and only through a complex spell could she permanently unseal them. Who would want this information? What could they possibly be planning?

One thing was for sure- whoever wanted the documents was not warm and fuzzy, and they seemed to mean business. Hermione was not used to death threats on her. It was usually Harry receiving them, and while that had been bad enough it was somehow worse when she was directly on the receiving end. She felt sick and frightened, and that made her in turn become annoyed and angry. The owl had come to her home... she wasn't sure how much longer she would be safe there and so she tried to think of the best place to go and get help.

“I still have Grimmauld Place” she heard Harry's words echo in her mind, and then she was gone.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was another bloodbath at the scene of this crime. Harry couldn't say he was sad to see Dolohov dead. He still remembered the feeling of panic he had experienced when seeing that curse hit Hermione at the Ministry of Magic all those years ago. Still, while he took a slight grim satisfaction in Dolohov's murder he was more relieved that he did not feel that sickening pleasure he had been experiencing of late.

Dolohov had somehow escaped after the Battle of Hogwarts and while the aurors had put some effort into finding him, he had never been top priority. He had been very quiet about his actions, and it was speculated he had gone into hiding for good after the fall of the Dark Lord. It was clear that his hiding had not eluded everyone.

“Someone chopped him up good” said a female voice with a strong Irish accent. Harry didn't need to turn his head to know that it was Caitlin O'Rourke, a tall woman with dark red hair. She was a few years older than Harry; they had met each other at auror academy and slept together for a while before they both lost interest. She was a powerful witch, and Harry respected her but she could also be a touch insensitive.

“Same curse as was used on the last one” he nodded.

“Why is someone killing Death Eaters?” she asked, carefully circling the puddle of blood. “First it was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, then that old man we found in the grass, and now Antoine Dolohov.”

Harry pondered this. Originally Harry had thought it was a Death Eater seeking to get even for betrayal to Voldemort. The Malfoys had prominently defected in the end, and the old Death Eater found dead in the grass was someone they had never even heard of. But if it was about traitor payback, they certainly wouldn't have gone after Dolohov. As far as Harry knew, Dolohov had been in it until the end. “Whoever it is must have been part of the inner circle” Harry deduced aloud.

“Why do you say that?” O'Rourke asked, casting spells to search for evidence.

“Very few knew where Dolohov's estate was located. It was protected by wards and secrecy. We tried to find it for a while, but none of our informants were very helpful.”

“Surprise, surprise” she smugly responded. “Maybe we should drag the youngest and only Malfoy in for inquisition. He might have an idea on who's behind all this.”

“If he did I should think he would have shared... after all, his own parents were killed by the same person who has been doing this.”

“I have a theory on that” O'Rourke mused, stopping what she was doing and settling her pretty dark eyes on Harry. Her voice was like a purr, in fact, many things about her were cat-like, from her graceful movements to her playful, aggressive nature. “I think Malfoy killed his parents.”

“I doubt it” Harry frowned. “You never heard how in love with his father he was during Hogwarts. `When my Father hears about this' was the single most frequent phrases I heard him utter” Harry joked, imitating Malfoy's drawl. “That and, `I'm a prissy little git with a pointy chin'.”

“I doubt you ever heard him say those exact words.”

“No, but he should have said them often because it was what everyone else was thinking.”

“Well, maybe what you were thinking, but not what I heard. A handsome boy from a wealthy, pure blood family, and a seeker to boot; his reputation preceded him even in other parts of the world...”

“I've heard enough about Malfoy's reputation thank-you very much” Harry interrupted, narrowing his eyes. “Can we get back on track?”

“Yes, but do consider what I said. It may be true that Malfoy adored his father growing up, but relationships with parents can become tumultuous. Maybe Malfoy was ashamed by his parents' act of cowardice in fleeing during the final battle. Maybe being tapped by the Dark Lord to kill Albus Dumbledore as a teenager left Draco a bit fucked in the head, maybe he had a stronger allegiance to Voldemort than he let on, and just maybe he's out seeking vengeance on other Death Eaters.”

“Maybe” Harry sighed, not sounding convinced. “Dolohov was never a traitor to his master though.”

“Not that we know of anyways” O'Rourke shrugged. “Remember what they told us in training? Never make assumptions. Something may have happened during or after the battle that made young Malfoy suspect Dolohov as a traitor.”

“It's a possibility” Harry nodded, slowly trying to open his mind to O'Rourke's theories. “But the magic used... it's something very rare and untraceable. How would Malfoy be able to do all this?”

“Was he not the same conniving teenager who used the Vanishing Cabinet to bring a team of Death Eaters onto Hogwarts grounds? I would not start making assumptions about what he is and isn't capable of.”

Harry realized that this was all too true. Malfoy was a more powerful wizard than he was often given credit, he was no stranger to dark magic, and he was also a member of the inner circle- one of the few still alive who may have known where Dolohov's home was concealed. Is it possible that being chosen by the Dark Lord as a leader during the war was such an ego boost that Malfoy is still maddened by his quest? On one hand, that did not seem likely of the scared Malfoy Harry had witnessed in those final days, shrieking “don't kill him!” in the room of requirement. One the other hand, people could change; Harry was learning about just how much a person could change first hand.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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2. Chapter 2: Truth in a Shade of Grey

Thanks for the positive reviews!! Please keep them coming; I have actually written 15 chapters of this story already but I am carefully editing each before I post. Reviews help motivate me to get the next chapter up Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 2: Truth in a Shade of Grey

After completing a thorough but ultimately useless search of Dolohov's house for clues, Harry bid O'Rourke farewell and apparated back to Grimmauld Place just as the sun was rising. He had barely caught a wink of sleep all night and while Grimmauld Place was far from a comfortable home, he had no doubt he would quickly lapse into sleep. His mind was buzzing with thoughts about Malfoy murdering his own parents, but mostly about the dark magic surrounding the circumstances of the recent murders. Even if Malfoy had become very advanced in ancient dark arts, he couldn't have done it without help. But with Voldemort dead, who possessed such knowledge anymore?

He would have to sleep on it, and while his stomach grumbled hungrily he ignored it and trudged up the stairs to his room, each step creaking with noisy protest at his ascent. He kicked the door open and flopped into bed, still fully clothed. And then he realized someone was in the bed with him.

With lightening fast reflexes he pointed his wand at the intruder, only to find a very annoyed looking Hermione curled under the covers. She swatted the light produced by his wand away from her face and yawned. “I had just finally fallen asleep” she grumbled, pulling the covers back up over her.

“Hm, sorry for waking you up but mind explaining what you're DOING HERE?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

Ripping the covers back from over her head she stared at him angrily. “Well, first off, you took off without a moment to speak which was awfully dramatic and annoying of you...”

“I nearly killed you!” he practically roared, incredulous at how stubborn she could be.

“So melodramatic!” she sniffed, rolling her eyes. “I don't even have any bruises on my throat, it's you I'm more worried about, the way you were screaming Harry!”

“I've been... having nightmares” he responded lamely, laying down next to her on the bed, his bones screaming at him for rest. He couldn't stay mad at her when she had that concerned look in her eyes. He knew she loved him and cared for him deeply, and while he didn't always understand it, it was a great source of his limited happiness.

“About anything in particular?”

“Just... blood and death.”

“I have dreams like that also, ever since the war.”

“These are different though. In them, I'm the one doing the killing. I'm killing so very many people.”

“You're not a murderer Harry. What happened with Voldemort was inevitable, and as an auror I know you've had to kill since but you're not malicious. I wish you would stop...”

“Not this conversation again” he sighed with annoyance.

She bit her lip, pausing and weighing the heavy silence between them. “Your line of work Harry, it's tearing you apart.”

“I know.”

It was a simple enough response, but it shocked her. In the past he had always tried to deny it, to make excuses or appeal to her sense of logic to argue why he had to continue being an auror. But this was the first time he had agreed, and the acknowledgement of what she had been saying all along hit her like a brick wall. “Oh Harry!” she cried, burying her face against his shoulder.

After a moment he realized by the slight dampness on his sleeve that she was crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice somewhat panicked. He had always been better at consoling her than Ron was, but he hated thinking anyone was shedding tears for him.

“I'm not” she lied, sniffing loudly and rolling away to wipe her eyes. He decided not to pursue it.

“So... you came here to check on me?”

“Not exactly” she admitted. “I needed someplace safe to go, I thought you might be here but I wasn't sure and when I saw the house was empty I came to lie down and wait for you.”

“Someplace safe??” he asked, the fatigue vanishing from his eyes as he looked at her with grave concern. “What's happening?”

“Nothing... yet” she finished, not liking the fact that he was clearly wound up and upset. She hated making him worry; it wasn't as though he didn't already have enough on his plate. But she had learned that direct honesty was the best approach with Harry. He hated feeling like he was receiving special treatment, and he especially hated feeling like things were being kept for him; especially since most of his life was kept secret from him for many years. “I received this letter.”

He read it over quickly, his eyes widening with concern. He began to try to discern the sender through the usual charms, but she stopped him. “I already tried that. Whoever sent this concealed their identity very carefully.”

“That is becoming an all too familiar theme” he grumbled, clenching the paper in his hand as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Why would they want you to unseal the Death Eater documents?” Even as he asked this question his face flushed with realization.

“What?” she asked, instantly recognizing the expression on his face.

He looked at her a moment, as though studying her. He was gazing so intensely that she nearly looked away, but Hermione Granger was never one to back down first, and she met his stare with level and ready eyes. “I didn't want to tell you this just yet” he began “but somebody has been killing off Death Eaters.”

“Why didn't you want to tell me?”

“Whatever is happening... it's not normal. The magic used is ancient and very dark, something beyond what any of us at the auror department have ever witnessed or even heard of. We are supposed to be keeping it confidential to avoid a panic.”

“But you trust me don't you?” she asked, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. Hadn't she always been unwaveringly loyal to him?

“Of course I trust you!” he exclaimed, a gentle smile touching his lips as though to suggest that any lack of trust would be outrageous on his part. She relaxed. “I simply didn't want you to worry about it just yet. The war... it took such a toll on us all and it's only just been five years. Chasing shadows and running from death- it's not a life I want to bring you back into.”

“Nor is it one I care to become involved in” she admitted with a shiver, a sudden image of death and blood and cold nights spent in silence in the woods. “But this is clearly not a thing that can be ignored by simply denying its severity.”

“Yes, it is serious” he agreed, feeling very tired. “I think- I think that whoever has been killing the Death Eaters sent you this message. I think that they want you to unseal the documents so that they can find those who were forgiven and went into hiding.”

“Why are they killing Death Eaters?”

“At first I thought it was out of revenge for those who betrayed Voldemort. But I saw Dolohov's body earlier, and I just don't think Dolohov would have ever betrayed his master.” Hermione paled at the mention of Antonin Dolohov, and Harry noticed instantly, regretting bringing him up in such a bland manner.

“Dolohov... is dead?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes. Quite dead.”

She didn't respond for a moment. Dolohov had been a monster of her nightmares, often succeeding in killing her where he had once failed. It was a hard sort of thing to forget, nearly being murdered, but now he was dead and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. In truth, she felt nothing.

“O'Rouke thinks that maybe Dolohov did betray Voldemort in the last moment, perhaps by fleeing. She thinks that Draco Malfoy may be the one doing the killing.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione scoffed. She had never liked Caitlin O'Rourke for a slew of reasons, not the least of which was her opinion that Harry could do better. She hardly knew the red headed woman but there was something about her sarcastic attitude and boisterous self-confidence that irked Hermione. “The Malfoy family fled in the final battle and were pardoned by the ministry. Why would he be going around killing traitors? Why he'd have to start with...”

“His own parents” Harry said finishing the sentence. While the murders of the unnamed Death Eater and Antonin Dolohov had stayed secret, the slaying of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were quite prominent. Even after becoming turncoats the Malfoy family did not settle down into silence but continued to remain pompous. Their name was tarnished but they refused to accept that, still making very public appearances and attempting to meddle in ministry affairs. Only Draco had become quiet, disappearing off the radar and refusing to speak with anyone from the ministry.

“He has been awful secretive since the war” Hermione admitted grudgingly. “But honestly, Malfoy, murder his own parents? He may have been a spineless little weasel but he adored his parents, especially his father.”

“That's what I said too. But who knows what he's capable of.” Again, the pale image of Draco hiding in the bathroom, looking near death and panicked crossed Harry's mind. It was the vision of a sick, scared boy, not a bloodthirsty creature of vengeance. “I'm glad you decided to come here.” Although, I'm not sure you're much safer around me he nearly said, remembering the sick pleasure he had felt while choking her just hours before. “Let's sort this out after we get some sleep. You can have my bed, all the rest aren't exactly made up. I'll just be downstairs on the couch.”

She reached out suddenly, grabbing his wrist, not sure why she had done it, but liking the solid feeling of his warm skin. He felt real then, more real than he often seemed. He had become a shadow in her life, a flickering ghost that came and went in the nights and she was never sure when he might appear and when he might just as quickly disappear. But feeling the pulse in his wrist made him seem human, like something concrete and solid. He didn't pull away and she almost wanted to ask him to stay with her and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the loneliness of never having another body to warm her sheets, or maybe it was the shock and scare of everything that had happened that evening. Maybe she had just missed him and couldn't stand how much it worried her. It didn't matter what the cause was though, because she released his wrist and let him go.

Sinking back into her covers she pulled a pillow over her face and tried to sleep. She had known that even if she asked him to stay he would have refused. The incident with him attacking her earlier in the night had certainly not left his memory and while she still trusted him fully, he did not trust himself. But there's more to it than that. It wasn't just a bad reaction to a nightmare... there's something he isn't telling me, something even he is afraid of.

This thought kept sleep at bay for another half hour. A scared Harry could never meant good things.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Fenrir Greyback paced his small cell in Azkaban. This was the most physical energy he was ever seen exerting these days. The once ferocious werewolf spent most of his time staring at the grey stonewalls, his black eyes glossed over with a deep hopelessness. His life was always cold, and his soul had reached a level of hell that he had not thought possible. If there was such a thing as hell, he could vaguely imagine it as being a nice break from Azkaban. Slowly, the little sanity he had maintained drained from his being. He was a pale shadow of his former self.

Footsteps echoed over his own now, and he looked in surprise. His only visitors were dementors, and they glided soundlessly. He would have hoped that it was an executioner coming to end his misery, but he was past hope. He had grown incapable of it.

A pale face appeared between the shadowy bars of his confines. It was not a full moon yet, but the silver light that glistened out over the ocean wrapped its way through a small barred window and found its way to reflecting the blond hair of the man who stood at the door of Fenrir's prison.

Despite his insanity, Fenrir recognized the youngest Malfoy and growled in anger at seeing the boy's haughty face and judgmental grey eyes. “What are you doing here blood traitor?”

“Better a blood traitor than a filthy dog” Draco scowled. As a boy he had feared the cruel and menacing Fenrir Greyback. Now he felt nothing but disdain for the filthy beast that paced in its little box. Fenrir tried to bark menacingly but it came out as the sorry whimper of a puppy. Draco laughed. “Look at you, going all soft. You're all bark and no bite aren't you? Hell, you don't even have the bark!”

“What do you want?” Fenrir asked, slumping to the ground defeated. “Leave me be and go back to your mudbloods and muggle lovers. You're a coward Malfoy, as is your whole despicable family.”

Draco's eyes flashed. “Haven't you heard, I'm the only Malfoy that's still alive.”

Fenrir nearly grinned now, but his body was too tired and cold for it. “News does not come easily to those imprisoned here. But as far as news goes, that is the best I could hope to hear. Your cowardly father and whore mother deserved it. And how sad for the long acclaimed Malfoy name that you are the last of your bloodline. Voldemort must be rolling in his grave knowing a little worm like you is left such a legacy.”

“You say news doesn't come to you often?” Draco asked, ignoring Fenrir's weak jabs. “Then you have not heard that someone is killing the last of the Death Eaters.”

“Who cares? What is left but a bunch of deserters like your parents, prisoners like myself and lucky little pukes like Dolohov who crawled away in the chaos. Without our master, we deserve only death.”

“Oh, what a good little doggy you are!” Draco smirked in a mocking tone. There was a glimmer of sadist humor in his eyes for quick moment, but it subsided just as quickly and his grey eyes were as flat as an unmoving lake. “I am going to ask you a question. And you can either answer it or pay the consequences.”

“There is nothing more terrible than my current fate” Fenrir said, the slight rage he had summoned leaving his body now for the old familiar sting of cold hopelessness.

“That's what you think” Draco responded, and even in the darkness of the prison his perfect white teeth glinted in a cruel smile.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry awoke to a strange smell. It was like something slightly burning but in a good way, a sort of smoky flavorful scent that reminded him of... bacon? he wondered, rubbing his eyes as he sat up on the couch. His stomach grumbled as he followed the scent through towards the kitchen, the distinct sound of crackling grease assuring his stomach that his nose had been correct.

Hermione was in the kitchen cooking what appeared to be enough food to feed a small army. He stopped for a moment, leaning against the doorframe as a slight smile played at the corner of his lips. It was such a domestic scene that in that moment they almost looked like two normal people getting a late start on a Sunday morning. For an absurd moment he imagined announcing his presence with a jolly “g'morning dear” and sitting down to a mug of hot coffee and a newspaper that didn't move.

“Put some clothes on” Hermione teased, breaking Harry's reverie. She was stacking pancakes onto a plate, creating a circular tower of steamy hot carbohydrates. Harry ignored her, deciding a shirt was too much trouble to not dive into the bowl of sausage links she had set out, but she slapped his hand away as he tried to make a grab.

“Ow, damn you're fast. You should have been a seeker.”

“No, a sport that's so filled with idiotic maneuvers at high speeds far above the ground is something that I would do just as well without thank-you kindly. And you putting a shirt on is not negotiable. I have been slaving over this meal, I woke up hours ago to get some groceries, and the least you could do is act half modest.”

“If I only have to be half modest does that mean that I can take my pants off instead?”

She rewarded his witticism with a quick swat to the shoulder, which landed with a resounding slapping sound that filled the kitchen. He went to get dressed and she watched him retreat, nearly burning the bacon as she stared pensively at where he had just been standing. Hearing him make a joke made her feel a sense of relief and normalcy, but it had also surprised her. She needed to understand what was happening with him, but she also knew she needed to be patient. Unfortunately, patience wasn't where Hermione Granger excelled.

When he returned they dug into their breakfast eagerly, not talking as they enjoyed fluffy pancakes, crisp bacon, sausage links, coffee and even an ample helping of scrambled eggs. Hermione had cooked all the food the muggle way, and while she didn't confess this to Harry he was acutely aware that she had done so as a method of distracting herself from the troubling events of the previous evening.

“I need to go into my office” she announced after Harry had cleared the plates and proceeded to magically wash them at the sink.

“You can't” Harry argued over the noise of running water.

“I know it's a Sunday but I do have a key you know” she scoffed.

“No” he argued, his eyes narrowing as he turned away from the suds, plates magically dipping themselves into the water behind him and being wiped dry by invisible hands. “You know why you can't go, it isn't safe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well thank-you Harry Potter, savior of the world as we know it, but I can take perfectly good care of myself.”

“So why did you come here?” he asked, and she was taken aback by the coldness in his tone. She had never heard him speak to her in that way. At worst he had spoken with frustration, and even when he had worn the horocrux around his neck he was irritable and short tempered… but never cold. “Why did you come here if you are so well protected?”

“I- I was scared” she admitted, feeling frightened once more by the flat look in his eyes.

“And now you're not?”

“The ministry is well guarded-”

“Oh yes” he laughed. The laughter was bitter and harsh, the same sort of laugh she had sometimes heard from Draco Malfoy. The same sort of laugh that Ginny would have instantly recognized as sounding exactly like Tom Riddle. “The ministry has such a track record for safety. It's been what, a whole five years since it was being run by Death Eaters?”

Hermione was flustered by his response, and while she felt of wave of hot indignation run through her, it was overpowered by a sense of dread at the sudden change in his mood. Never in her life had she felt scared of Harry, but now... she felt like he was a moment away from attacking her again. “I'm going now Harry. And I'm going to request wards be set up at my home, so I won't be bothering you again.”

She turned quickly and headed to the fireplace to access the floo network, but Harry was standing between her and her exit with a loud POP that made her cry out with alarm. “I'll apparate out of here Harry, please just let me go!”

He saw the look of panic in her eyes and then there was that feeling again, that strange sick feeling of pleasure. And as quickly as it had come it left and he paled, horrified to see that she shook slightly now in his presence. “My God, I... I just want you to be safe alright?”

She nodded uncertainly, not wanting to come near him. “I'll send aurors to your house to set up guard. It probably is best you go, I'm not, I'm not safe.” He stepped aside to let her approach the fireplace and she did not argue with him. She paused for only a moment as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it. In that brief window of time he had the compulsion to reach out and hold her to him, to apologize, to explain all his fears and to have her in his arms until she stopped shaking. He wanted to comfort her the way he had so many times in the past, and he needed the comfort of her presence close to him. But he couldn't trust himself to touch her and so he let her go soundlessly.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `' `' ` ` `' ` ` `

O'Rourke had quite a strong stomach for gruesome sights, but the scent of a dead werewolf made her gag quite violently. Covering her mouth with a handkerchief she proceeded to study the crime scene. There were footsteps coming down the corridor and she turned to see a haggard looking Harry Potter standing at the opening to the prison cell.

“Didn't get enough sleep?” she asked in a muffled voice, the handkerchief still pressed firmly against her nose.

“Something like that” he answered cryptically. It was always like that with Harry Potter- half answers, mysteries and never ending brooding angst. It was because of these characteristics that she had never pursued anything beyond a few passionate nights with him. Although in truth, his angst and air of mystery was simultaneously what made him so irresistibly attractive to her.

“Did you have a lady friend keeping you up?”

He gave her a puzzled look, and there was almost a strange glint of humor that she could not read. “Sort of” he finally responded, and she ignored the jolt of jealousy and the desire to pry him for more information.

He started to pace around the bloody carcass of Fenrir Greyback, investigating in a similar fashion as she had been before being interrupted by his entrance. “It's the same curse as what was used on the other Death Eaters,” she announced.

“Yes, but something is different,” he noted, carefully side-stepping a puddle of blood to get closer. It had always amazed O'Rourke that Harry had such a strong stomach for violence. But then, he had pretty much grown up into a world of death and evil. She suddenly shuddered at the thought, watching as Harry's lean body bend over the slashed open werewolf. Harry was a dark silhouette in the shadowy prison cell, his features indiscernible except for his green eyes, which glinted brightly through the dark; the only focal point of light in a room drenched in black blood.

She gagged again, her stomach flipping at the sight, and Harry ignored her, continuing his investigation. “Somebody yanked Greyback's teeth out” Harry noted, his tone calm and as neutral as someone saying, “pass me the milk”.

She gagged again. “Why the bloody hell would they do such a thing?”

Harry shrugged. “Pulling teeth is an especially painful form of torture for anyone, but especially a werewolf. They must have been looking for information.”

“Either that or revenge” she argued. “Maybe slicing and dicing up the bodies wasn't doing it anymore for the murderer?”

“Possibly” Harry admitted with a bored sigh. “It's odd though, because they took the teeth with them. Maybe as a trophy of the kill, but we've never noticed the killer taking any trophies before.”

“Is there any... practical use for werewolf teeth?” O'Rourke asked. “Like a potion or incantation?”

“That's a very good question” Harry replied, leaving the blood covered scene and walking towards her. She was thankful that they would be leaving Azkaban shortly; the place was haunted by desperation and hopelessness.

“I have a good idea of who could give us an answer. Someone who has an epic knowledge of well, everything if one is to believe the way you tell it.”

“No, we're aurors, we can do our own God damned research. No need to bring her in on this” he snapped.

“What's wrong, in a fight with the wife?” O'Rourke teased in a lilting tone. Sometimes she reminded Harry of a female Draco Malfoy, which disgusted him a bit. It wasn't an association he wanted to make with someone he used to sleep with.

He didn't respond, simply grabbing the portkey back to their office and she rolled her eyes, following after him in a dizzying whirlwind. Once they had landed upright in the much cleaner and brighter atmosphere of their workplace, he responded to her mockery, coming so closer to her that she found herself shaking very lightly. She wasn't sure if it was the result of fear or something sexual and aggressive, but there was a warning look in his eyes that prevented her from doing anything. “Do not call her my wife, and keep her out of this. All of this. Don't even mention her name.”

O'Rourke narrowed her eyes, feeling offended. She knew Harry Potter had a huge overprotective spot when it came to his “wife” but she did not like his tone and attitude. Harry could be aggressive and even dangerous, even as a lover (it was part of the thrill of it all). But he had also always been polite in a quiet way and could be unusually considerate and gentle for a man with his history. His current behavior was alien to O'Rourke, and it made her want to punch him in the face.

Their intense encounter was interrupted by a junior officer loudly entering the office, a stack of papers in his hands. “Oh, hey Potter” the young man greeted, trying to avoid dropping the tediously stacked pile of papers. “I was looking for you, just wanted to let you know that Hermione Granger's house is under top notch protective wards, and we have 24 hour surveillance posted.”

O'Rourke sighed in disgust, stepping away from Harry. “Anything for the wife huh Potter?” He didn't respond, and even if he had she couldn't have heard him because she had walked away and loudly slammed the door to her office. Once inside her office she contained an irate scream of frustration. She hated feeling jealous, it wasn't becoming of a woman with her physical and intellectual qualities. But she had always been a bit sore when it came to Harry's relationship with his lifelong friend. Whatever the feelings of jealousy meant, O'Rourke refused to investigate further.

Well if that doesn't beat all she thought with such annoyance it verged on hilarity. On her desk was a memo reading:

Agent: Caitlin O'Rourke

Assignment: Surveillance detail as the residence of Hermione Granger, 20:00 to Midnight.

Fuck my life she thought, crumpling up the paper and chucking it into the fireplace.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `' `' ` ` `' ` ` `

Hermione had gone into the office and buried herself in work to avoid thinking about the complicated situation at hand. It wasn't very effective. She would read a sentence and then find her mind wandering to Harry. He had scared her, and that was not something she had ever thought he would do. She wanted to help him, but it was clear that he didn't want her help. And then there was that trickling feeling of self-doubt... what if there was nothing she could do? People changed, especially in the face of death and evil. What if his job was ripping apart the boy she once knew, and the old Harry Potter was dying?

That thought sickened her and made her head spin. She had learned to live with many things. She had learned to live with memories of blood and screams in the night. She had learned to deal with the never-ending celebrity praise that came with being a “war hero”. She had learned to cope with the fact that her parents had no idea what she had been through, even now that their memory was restored. But she could not learn to live in a world without Harry Potter.

He had given them a reason to fight, to face fears and then afterwards, to mend wounds. He had shown that even a little boy can stand up to evil when courage and love are strong. He had given her reason to become the woman she was today; he had encouraged her to be better than her best, to always strive for more. He simply could not die.

This was a fear she was regularly faced with, but it seemed more eminent than ever, and it pressed in on her every thought until she decided to go home for dinner. A twiggy little auror had come by her office and informed her that her house was under protection earlier in the day, and she decided that a meal was in order now that the sun had long set. She used the floo network to get there, since apparation was no longer an option due to the wards. She was shoved through the green flames and landed in her quiet, empty living room. Except it wasn't empty.

Caitlin O'Rourke was sitting on the sofa, her legs crossed, her posture obnoxiously immaculate. “How nice of you to join me” she greeted, not moving from her comfortable spot. O'Rourke was the sort of woman who made everyone else of the female gender have self image issues. She was graceful as a cat, and her dark red hair was not hard to envy. She had a perfect complexion and enough fashion sense to easily pass as a model. Additionally, she was well known as being quick-witted, powerful and very clever. She had a sharp tongue and was tremendously skilled at dueling.

“Hello... I'm guessing you're on security detail?”

“Yes, I'm here to protect you like you're the Queen of England or some rubbish. We all know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, well... Harry.”

That was all Hermione had to say, and O'Rourke just snorted. “Yes, I get it. Anything to keep you safe and comfortable.”

Hermione already had a pounding headache and so she ignored O'Rourke's snide tone. She wasn't sure if the elegant redhead had a personal issue with her, but she couldn't imagine why. The two women had only met once before, and that had been a ministry event. At the time O'Rourke and Harry had been carrying on some sort of torrid affair, the details of which Hermione had never wanted to concern herself with. Of course, O'Rourke's reputation preceded her as a great up and coming auror, but Hermione had still found O'Rourke cold and unnecessarily sarcastic. She wasn't sure what Harry really saw in her, except maybe a physical lust, which again, Hermione did not care to think about.

“I am going to make some dinner” Hermione announced, walking out of the room. “You can join me or not.” She made her way to her dream kitchen, and decided to cook the muggle way to relax her mind. She started chopping ingredients when she heard the click of heels headed her way. O'Rourke entered the kitchen and invited herself to a seat at the island table, watching Hermione cut the food in a disinterested manner.

“You are awfully domestic” O'Rourke finally commented with a yawn.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Hermione retorted, narrowing her eyes. “You can just walk circles around the perimeter of the house for the next few hours for all I care. I'm not responsible for playing hostess to every on-duty auror you know.”

“I'm comfortable here” O'Rourke responded quite simply. “But you must have something we can drink to at least pass this awkward period of time?”

“Are you really supposed to be drinking while on-duty?”

“Just as I thought. The goodie two-shoes Hermione Granger doesn't drink!”

If looks could kill, Hermione would have O'Rourke reeling on the floor, but O'Rourke did not flinch. Hermione turned and opened the cupboard behind her to reveal a well-stocked bar. “And I thought I'd seen everything” the auror smiled.

Hermione took out two large glass then, realizing that a drink might not be so bad after all and she mixed them up a wizarding special called the Singing Mermaid. It was one of her personal favorites, and O'Rourke must have liked it as well because she refrained from further nasty comments for a full five minutes.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `' `' ` ` `' ` ` `

Harry had left the junior officers with a great stack of work in researching potential uses for werewolf fangs. They had all shot him a fair amount of dirty looks, but he couldn't have cared less, and the wild light in his eyes kept them from verbally complaining. They can stay up all night for all I care Harry thought as he stepped into the brisk night air, thrusting his hands into his black dragonhide trench coat. He had told them that he didn't want to hear a word from any of them until they had an answer, or until they had scoured every resource in the Ministry library... which was no small feat.

They can hate me all they want he decided, turning down a dark alleyway. Things are unraveling quickly, and I can't keep it all glued together on my own. Which was why he was on his way to see his old friend, Ronald Weasley. Harry hardly saw Ron due to how often he was away on work, and when Harry did have a break he often spent it sleeping at Hermione's and letting her nurture him. It didn't mean that the two didn't frequently exchange correspondence, and the pain of seeing a reminder of Fred in Ron's red hair had gradually lessened. Harry knew Ron did not blame him for what happened to Fred, nor did any of the Weasleys. But Harry felt like an omen of death, and he had trouble speaking to Ron at times. He needed a friend now though, and he had learned not to trust himself around Hermione. Whatever was happening, it had come out at her twice now, like a snake lashing out from somewhere inside him, and he couldn't bear to be the cause of any more hurt for her.

Ron lived in a flat directly above Weasley Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He and George had profited big in the past few years; it seemed many people were badly in need of a laugh or two after the war. Ron could have afforded a number of luxurious homes, but he preferred the flat both for it's convenient location and it's perfect design for a bachelor pad. It had a large open floor plan and he had hired a decorator to give a trendy look, with framed Quidditch souvenirs lining the walls and plush leather furniture scattered about. There were large windows that looked down onto Diagon Alley, and Harry had it as a fact that Ron had romanced a number of women there. Harry thought hiring a decorator had been a good call on Ron's part. While Harry admittedly had no sense for such things, Ron had always been notorious for his horrendous ability to clash colors.

Even though they only saw each other rarely, Ron did not seem surprised when he saw Harry Potter on the other side of the door. Their relationship had taken a relaxed quality; Ron had let go of the petty jealousy he had once directed towards Harry, and what the two men had faced together had given them a deeply rooted bond that neither time nor distance could sever. Despite Harry's guilt complex, he would always see Ron as the brother he had never had, and the closest thing to family he could recall.

Ron's hair was ruffled and his buttons on his shirt were open, and as soon as Harry stepped in he spotted a tall blond exiting from the bathroom, appearing as though she had just reapplied her make-up. She smiled coyly at Harry, instantly recognizing the legend, but he did not respond to her friendly greeting. “Listen babe, I just need a word with my friend Harry, do you think you could head over to the pub and I'll meet you there shortly?”

“Of course Ronniekins” she purred, running her hand through his wild red hair, and to top off the elaborate display of affection she passionately kissed him. All this, of course, did not stop her from shooting Harry a seductive glance on her way out the door.

“I don't know where you find them Ron” Harry jabbed, shaking his head.

“PlayWizard parties mostly” Ron admitted, and catching Harry's obvious eye roll he added, “Don't go on about how I'm shallow, I hear enough of it from my Mum. `Ron Weasley, when will you find yourself a nice girl?'” he mimicked, pouring two shots of FireWhiskey without asking. “`Why couldn't you just have settled down with someone sensible and intelligent like Hermione?'”

Harry blanched at Hermione's name and sat down suddenly. Noticing his friend's sudden change in pallor Ron stopped his squeaky impersonation and set the bottle down. “Blimey Harry, what is it?”

“I don't know Ron... Something is wrong with me. I nearly killed Hermione the other night.”

Ron may have been broken up with Hermione for quite some time, but the over protectiveness he felt for the brown haired girl had not waned in the least. He drew himself up to his full height (which was quite impressive) and stared daggers at Harry. The logical part of his mind had long ago accepted that he would never rival the famous Harry Potter at duels, and even from a physical standpoint Harry had the edge on him due to his auror training. But that logic had never quelled the infamous Ron Weasley temper.

“Explain yourself” he spat, balling his fists so tight his knuckles glowed an even paler white that usual.

“It was a mistake... sort of. The normal part of me didn't mean it. I love her Ron, she's everything to me.”

Ron was not shocked by the candid words from his best friend. Harry hadn't grown up in a household that taught him the proper way to express emotions, but when it came to Hermione, Harry was an open book as far as Ron was concerned. He openly adored her intelligence, and was every bit as protective of her as Ron was. Their relationship had become increasingly strong after the war, and even more so when her and Ron ended romantically. Ginny often insisted that Harry and Hermione were intimately involved, but Ron vigorously disagreed. Harry and Hermione were simply two parts of an impressive machine- one could not function without the other, but together they were unstoppable. They were not, and never would be, romantically interested in each other. It just wasn't a part of their unique coexistence.

Ron relaxed from his tense posture. He could see the pain in Harry's eyes and the trembling uncertainty in his voice. Harry was scared and there was something deeply unsettling in that. “What happened?” Ron asked, more calmly this time.

“Lately... I've been feeling all mixed up. Like there's this other part of me coming out, something sick and sadistic, something evil. The other night, Hermione awoke me from a nightmare, and I choked her, I mean I really grabbed her by the throat and I guess I stopped before she really got hurt, but this is the thing Ron, the thing I couldn't tell her even afterwards... I enjoyed it. And it wasn't the first time. Lately, the sight of violence has been giving me this cold thrill, a sort of sick pleasure that I've never known before. I have never associated blood or pain or fear with happiness, but randomly it will come upon me and I'm someone else entirely. I don't know if I'm going insane, if it's my job that's finally catching up with me, or if I've been cursed in some way...” he broke off suddenly and he looked like he might be sick.

Ron knew that Harry had been changing in many ways. He rarely saw his best friend, but there was little to no joy in his eyes when they did meet. The few times they had managed to grab drinks or catch a Quidditch match Harry was quiet mostly. He was a faded version of the friendly, genuine boy he had once known at Hogwarts. But Ron had never blamed him... they had all changed, and while Ron had gone on to a frivolous life of money, women and luxuries, people like Harry and Hermione had decided to keep the weight of the world on their shoulders. Each in their own ways, but the burden was clear.

What Ron had not expected was for Harry to go mad. He had seen The Boy Who Lived go through endless nightmares and challenges; had seen him tormented in most ways possible. But Harry had almost always been level and reliable. Harry was the storybook perfect hero.

“Have you talked to anyone at the aurors office about this?” Ron asked gently. “Or maybe sought counseling at St. Mungos?”

“I can't” Harry shook his head reverently. “They would mandate that I take time off, and that simply isn't an option for me right now. There are things unfolding that are very concerning.”

Harry didn't go into more detail than that, not because he didn't trust Ron- he had and always would trust Ron with his life- but because he knew it would just confuse the matter. Ron didn't need to know about the dead Death Eaters, or the strange curses or the missing werewolf fangs. What he did need to know was that Hermione was in danger. So Harry explained the very minimum about the threatening letters she was receiving.

“Why would anyone want to unseal the Death Eater records?” Ron asked, echoing the same question Harry had heard numerous times.

“I don't know, but I'm working to figure that out. And so long as I'm suffering from this... this mental thing I can't be around her, which is why I need you to do whatever you can to make sure Hermione stays safe.”

“Of course Harry, you know I will. You already have aurors watching over her now right?”

“Yes, O'Rourke is stationed with her for a while, and then Lennon is next. But you know her, she doesn't like being watched by strangers and I'm sure when she's around the Ministry she will do whatever she can to shake them off from interfering in her work.”

“She's with O'Rourke?” Ron asked, slightly amused.

“Yes, why?” Harry demanded with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Nothing, a bloke just can't help but wonder how that's going. Your exes never like Hermione. Save for Ginny of course, but that's different.”

“You say `exes' like I've had so many. Anyways, I don't see what the problem should be. O'Rourke is a professional, she knows that Hermione and I were only ever friends, and whatever we had was long in the past. Besides, she's hardly an ex, we only just shagged a few times.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“We only just shagged a few times” O'Rourke reminisced over her fourth glass of Singing Mermaid. “But it was truly mind blowing, I mean...”

“I do NOT want to hear anymore about that” Hermione hiccuped, glaring at her through squinted eyes.

“Oh like you don't already know” O'Rourke slurred, downing the remnants of her glass and setting them both up with another.

“Oh I shouldn't...” Hermione began.

“Shouldn't what? Sleep with him? Why bloody not, he's madly in love with you.”

“WHAT?” Hermione sputtered. “I meant I shouldn't have another drink, I have work in the morning. Of course we've never slept together, we're best friends. It's almost weird to even think about....”

“But you have thought about it” O'Rourke pried.

“No! No, I have not. It's not like that. It's impossible to even explain, so I won't bother.”

“Oh please do try” O'Rourke pestered in a dry tone, ignoring Hermione's decision to not have another drink and filling her cup. Hermione did not protest again, simply taking a long sip before beginning to attempt to find the words to define her relationship with Harry Potter.

“We have loved each other since we were children, but in a platonic way.”

“So, like brother and sister then?”

“No” Hermione said abruptly. “I mean, sure, I guess. I told you I can't explain it. Yes, like brother and sister in that there is no sexual anything between us. Ever. But not like brother and sister because we are closer somehow, comfortable in a way people normally aren't. Like we know what each other is thinking or feeling. At least, that was how it used to be.”

“What's changed?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing really.”

O'Rourke eyed Hermione suspiciously. The conversation had started simply as a matter of girly intrigue. O'Rourke had always been envious of the way Hermione and Harry were together, and she had been positive that they knocked boots from time to time, but she had never had any proof. Now she was nearly convinced that they were strictly friends, but there was something new she was curious about. What was wrong with Harry.

“He's changing” O'Rourke commented suddenly, breaking a moment of silent reverie for them both.

“In what way do you mean?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“I can tell you know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm not an auror just because I'm gorgeous and brilliant. I have a great skill for reading people, so let's quit with the pretense.”

Hermione sighed and bit nervously at her lower lip. “Yes, something is changing in him.”

“It worries you.”

“Yes, I don't know what to do and I know I can't help him. Is it affecting his work?”

This time O'Rourke proceeded with caution, not sure how much Harry had already told his little girlfriend. “Not nearly as much as his concern over you is affecting him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I'm fine.”

“I told him about as much. But like I said, he's madly in love with you, so he sort of has this blind spot where you're concerned.”

“He admires me” Hermione snapped. “We admire each other, and yes, love is there but not in whatever way you're trying to insinuate. Anyways, I don't see what business it is of yours.”

O'Rourkes eyes flashed angrily then, and for a brief moment Hermione glimpsed the ferocity that the red haired auror was famed for. Fortunately, Hermione was not the type to be easily scared. She had seen worse than a woman scorned.

“You still have feelings for him don't you?” Hermione asked, turning the tables.

“I told you, we only shagged a few times” O'Rourke bitterly responded, narrowing her eyes. “Nothing to get all mushy over. Although, it was certainly memorable. You claim you two have never gone for it, but haven't you ever even just wondered? Because I'll tell you, he is a stud in the bedroom. I mean, a real piece of man meat if you catch my drift...”

“He's not just some accessory” Hermione hissed, standing up suddenly. In that moment it was O'Rourke seeing the Hermione Granger that had been so often declared the most powerful witch of their age. And she was surprised to feel a jolt of fear. Hermione had become such a diplomat after the war, and while intensely passionate, she was not known for violence. Here, standing at full height and glaring at O'Rourke, the auror was reminded that she was in the presence of a war hero.

Hermione's gaze suddenly softened, something seemed to pass over her face, something she seemed to ponder briefly and then it passed before even the sharp O'Rourke could read it. And then Hermione did what O'Rourke least expected. She began to laugh.

“What's so funny?” she snapped indignantly.

“You're completely in love with him!” Hermione choked out between her laughter. “You talk tough, and of course you have a reputation to protect. O'Rourke, the most skilled female auror in decades. But, you are clearly infatuated with one Mr. Harry James Potter.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it was all just...”

“Sex, I know” Hermione interrupted. “Maybe for him, but not for you. Why else would you be here grilling me about the nature about our relationship? Oh, believe me, I've dealt with it before, but few have gone after the question with such focused ferocity! You hate thinking that he's in love with me because he doesn't love you.”

Caitlin O'Rourke was frequently known for her sharp wit and cutting words. She could be blunt and harsh, but she could also purr eloquently and win over the heart of most any man. Whether she was being sweet or sour, O'Rourke was never short on words. Which was why she found it highly irritating that she was currently sputtering. Sputtering!

“Maybe you have a point” a resigned O'Rourke finally admitted. She had buckets of pride, but she could also follow logic as well as any detective ought to be able to, and logical pieces were falling into place. Her annoyance with the otherwise admirable Hermione Granger, her need to pry at Harry's personal life, her anger of Harry's loving protection of his best friend, and of course, the undeniable fact that she couldn't ever stop watching him. Seeing him was the highlight of her workday, and that realization was a heavy one. She had never been in love, and had never wanted to be. Least of all, she had never desired the pathetic feeling that accompanies unrequited love.

“Alright, you have a point” O'Rourke finally continued. “But you are wrong about one thing. I don't THINK he's in love with you. I KNOW he is.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy had mixed feelings about the famous Malfoy Manor. Without a doubt, it was historic in a way that only Hogwarts could compare. There wasn't a single shadowy corner without dark secrets, and oh if those walls could talk!

One might say the walls could talk, because the portraits lining the corridors certainly never shut up. They had many nasty opinions to share about blood loyalty and advice on dark magic. Which was why he had covered each with a heavy black cloth to hide their peering eyes and muffle their incessant chatter. After his parents' murder, leaving his ancestors in the dark seemed like a good idea, and he had not regretted it. Of course, it had taken him days to cover each and every frame. He would have tasked it to the House Elves, but since Hermione Granger's tirade on treatment of magical creatures he found it easier to dismiss the lot of them. They had blubbered on, but in the end he was glad for the silence. House Elves had always creeped him out, and that bleeding heart mudblood could save or slaughter them for all he cared.

He headed for the dungeons, a section of Malfoy Manor which had seen even more misery than the rest of the massive house. A section of it served as an enormous potions laboratory, and he had work to do. He descended further and further downwards, the stone carved spiral stairs lit only by flickering torches. A cheery family tale once told of Marcellus Malofy who had thrown his young wife down the stairs when he found out that she was not truly pure blood and thus the unborn Malfoy child in her womb would taint the bloodline. After watching her tumble endlessly down the hard stones Marcellus had famously said “A Malfoy not of pure blood is no Malfoy at all.”

Stories such as these made the house feel even more cold and haunted than it actually was (and it was very cold and absurdly haunted). Without the House Elves it was just Draco and the ghosts, and that could get under even his skin. But not currently, as he ignored the shudder down his spine and finally reached the dank bottom of the dungeon. Fear was a weakness of his childhood that he regretted each and every day. He needed to get to work.

The potions lab would have made even the stoic Severus Snape grin. In fact, before Snape's death he had spent plenty of hours borrowing the Malfoy potions lab to create those things that Hogwarts would have frowned upon. However, since the final battle Draco had made some impressive improvements. Malfoys had a tendency to cling to the old, and the potions lab had once been cluttered with antiquated cauldrons and aging ingredients. Draco had disposed of all those things and gone top of the line with everything. He had nearly every ingredient imaginable, both legal and illegal. And now that he had the final item he needed, he could complete his most recent project.

The potion was already carefully brewed, and had been sitting in a sleek steel cauldron for four nights, bubbling very slightly as the directions dictated. It had been a very complex potion to create, and while Draco had always excelled with potions, he needed to be particularly cautious with this one. Even with his massive stock of supplies he had needed to procure some obnoxiously elusive items, not the least of which was currently tucked in a sack in his pocket. He donned the dragonhide gloves and carefully untied the sack, turning his nose up at the contents before he slowly poured them into a mortar and began to grind. A scraping sound like knife against bone echoed through the dark dungeon as the clock neared midnight.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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3. Chapter 3:Silver and Gold

CHAPTER 3: Silver and Gold

Harry woke up on his desk and groaned at the idiocy of it all. What is wrong with me, I'm a damned wizard, I can apparate home in a snap but here I am with a sore neck and a puddle of drool on my work.

He sat up and his neck cracked so loudly he flinched. He was letting things slide out of control and he knew it. Missing out on sleep wasn't exactly going to rectify that. What he wouldn't give for even one of the father figures in his life to still be alive to give him a pep talk. Well... one of his good, wise father figures. Vernon Dursley was probably still alive but he was hardly a reliable source of family affection. The thought of showing up at the Dursley's new residence and asking Vernon to pat his back and tell him how to deal with a growing issue of insanity was so absurd Harry nearly laughed out loud. He really was overly tired.

There was a knock on his door and an uncharacteristically sheepish O'Rourke entered, not quite meeting his eye as she reported that she had sent the junior aurors home to sleep, and their studies had revealed nothing useful about werewolf fangs. “They were all but falling asleep sitting up” she laughed, slowly easing into her normal nature. “But we don't need them anyways. I think I found out what we need to know.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, glancing through bleary eyes at the clock, which read 6 AM. He could barely focus on her words; he was so tired the world was slightly vibrating around him in a dizzying way.

“Yes” she sighed, blatantly annoyed by his drowsiness. “There is only one known use for werewolf fangs, and that is a potion which allows one to see into the memories of the werewolf. It's like creating a pensieve, only the memories aren't given willingly. The fangs of the werewolf are practically a part of its soul, hence the removal of said fangs is known to be excruciating.”

“Why would someone want to see Greyback's memories?” Harry wondered, closing his eyes again, the pain burning beneath his lids.

“I don't know, nor do I think that's the pertinent question at this time. What's important, is finding out who did it. Then we can ascertain the why.” O'Rourke's conceited swagger was returning, but Harry didn't notice, merely nodding as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

“Yes, I think, a little.”

“On your desk?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, don't badger me” he said grumpily. “You sound like Hermione right now.”

“Well I did spend most of the night with her, how do you think I found out about the fangs?”

“What?!”

“I spent most of the night with her” O'Rourke repeated. “It didn't start off as romantic, but sometimes something so wrong can feel so right, and an innocent night of auror duty turned into a night of fiery passion...”

Harry ignored her playful banter. “I thought I told you not to bring her into this.”

“You don't tell me what to do Potter” she snapped, suddenly icy. “I know you think you're the world's last hero, but news flash, she doesn't need a knight in shining armor and even if she did you're not him. Look at you, you're a mess.”

She expected Harry to react with indignation and hostility. She was quite sure he would demand she get out of his office and brood in her presence for the next week or so. Instead he was quiet; but it wasn't an angry sort of quiet. It was a sadness that suddenly made the room feel colder. Or maybe the room really was growing colder... Harry was a powerful wizard in ways that few could understand.

“You're right,” he finally said, brushing a stray hair from his emerald green eyes. He suddenly busied himself tidying up his desk, and in that moment O'Rourke saw a different side of him than she had ever known in their time working on cases. He looked vulnerable, innocent, and even childish for a brief moment. The image he preserved as steel nerved and confident wavered for a moment and then it was back in a flash. “What do we do now?”

“Hermione told me that the potion which would have to be brewed in order to see Greyback's memories would require some very rare and difficult to obtain ingredients. She is owling a list to the office today. We will have to find out if any of those ingredients have been purchased recently. If we can find out by whom, we can find the culprit behind these crimes.”

“If they even are crimes” Harry said distantly. “Is it really wrong to kill Death Eaters? I mean…after all they did… the lives they ruined, the cowardice they hid behind…crawling around in the dark, destroying families!” The volume of his voice his escalated and as it did there was a trembling violence in his voice that she had never heard before. She has seen him kill people, had seen him fight with tremendous ferocity and skill, but never had she seen him become violent in a primal and uncontrolled way. She did not like it. Not one bit.

“I think you need to get some rest” she commented, surprised to hear her own voice falter. Was she scared? Damn straight I'm scared she realized. I'm in a small, enclosed space with one of the most powerful wizards alive and he's gone mental.

If she was worried about his sanity, he only solidified it by responding to her comment with a twisted smile, unlike any expression she had ever seen on his face (and she had seen many of his expressions, between their challenging work environment and history as lovers). His eyes seemed to flicker, as if for a moment, someone else was looking through them with pure malice. Malice, yes she found herself thinking, but it's a joyful malice.

Then, just as suddenly as she had seen it, it was gone again, and he apparated away with a loud crack.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione awoke with a violent reminder of why she didn't often drink heavily. What a hangover she lamented, pressing her eyes closed to avoid the offending sunlight creeping through her blinds.

“Oi, about time you woke up!” grumbled a booming voice that she immediately recognized.

I'm not hungover, I'm delirious she thought. That's the only explanation for why Ronald Weasley is in my bedroom.

“I like what you've done with the place” his voice announced as she threw a pillow over her face. Even through the muffling effect of the feathers she could clearly hear his raspy voice chat away. “I know I'm no interior designer, but since I had my flat redone, I like to think I've gotten a bit of an eye for colors, and this is nice. A bit girly... but then you are a girl... I mean, I know you're a girl from personal experience and all... ahem...”

His voice trailed off awkwardly. Why is it that even in my delusional dreams Ron is so damned strange? It wasn't until the pillow was being pried from her face that she realized that it wasn't a dream and her ex-boyfriend/best friend was in fact in her bedroom.

“You really need to get up or you'll be late for work” Ron sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed. He had such a peculiar manner, even since they were children. He could be boastful and attention needy, but most often he was insecure and awkward, always putting his foot in his mouth. At one time she had found this endearing about him, but it also turned out to be one of the most infuriating issues in their relationship.

“I can't believe you're waking me up for work” she groaned, trying to fight him as he attempted to pry the pillow away from her. “What are you even doing up this early? Don't you have some vapid model to be escorting from your bed to breakfast?”

“You think so little of me Hermione,” he said, shaking his head, but there was humor in his tone. “I thought you knew me better than anyone else.”

“I DO” she insisted “which is why I'm very confused why you are up before noon.”

“I was worried about you,” he admitted, turning his back as she finally rose from bed to face the day.

“Oh, so Harry visited you then” she sighed.

“Why do you have to assume it has to do with Harry?” he asked, confounded. “I know we didn't work out romantically, but you are very important to me, I love you you know.”

She could hear the hurt in his voice and so she took a gentler approach. She had learned after many years that you could not fight fire with fire when it came to Ron Weasley. “I know Ron, and I appreciate you being here. It's just hardly likely that you would know I was in trouble if Harry hadn't informed you.”

“Oh” he paused. “That's right I suppose. Well, why didn't you inform me yourself? We're supposed to be best friends and I hardly even hear from you these days!”

“The owls go both ways Ronald Weasley!” she defended, their old bickering ways quickly rising to the surface. She took a deep breath, trying to act the part of adult. “It is good to see you though. It has been a strange week.” That's the understatement of the year she thought, remembering the previous night with a wave of nausea.

O'Rourke had been so convinced that Harry had this major crush on Hermione. No, more than a crush... O'Rourke was convinced that Harry that he was in love with his best friend. But that's ridiculous. If he had those types of feelings I certainly would have noticed. He's like a... well not a brother to me, but something of that sort. I mean, we've known each other since we were so young, it's nearly impossible to think of him in a romantic way...

“Earth to Hermione!” Ron shouted, obnoxiously waving his hands in front of her unblinking eyes. “I'll leave you to get dressed and ready, but I am going to the Ministry with you for the day, and don't argue with me about it.”

“Ron, you can't! I have so much work to do, there is a matter of squib rights that I am in the middle of arguing within the Ministry, not to mention the ongoing issue with the giants...”

“Hermione!” Ron interrupted. “You have received a death threat and from what I gather from Harry there is something very dangerous afoot, and you need to take this seriously!”

“Did you just say `afoot'?” Hermione inquired innocently.

“You're just trying to take the piss out of me” Ron grumbled angrily. “I promised Harry I would keep an eye on you, and I intend to do just that.”

“I appreciate that Ron, but you and Harry are honestly too much. I already have around the clock auror surveillance, and might I remind you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know, I know, you're the most brilliant witch in ages. But maybe you should think about how Harry feels...”

“How Harry feels?? How HARRY feels?” Hermione shrieked indignantly. “I would have no idea how Harry feels, because he hasn't been explaining anything to me whatsoever. All I get are cryptic half answers about how he isn't safe to be around, and I don't have the slightest idea of what is going on with him...” she stopped suddenly, realizing with annoyance that she might cry and Ron embraced her in a hug, awkwardly patting her back.

“He'll be fine, he's Harry Potter!”

“Yes” Hermione sniffed. “But I'm afraid that that's what might kill him in the end.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

There are some magics, so difficult and ancient that they were nearly lost to the years. Some magics, which even the great wizards of our history hadn't the slightest idea about. These magics, these are what will make me beyond immortal, and greater than legend. Mastering these magics will make me a God.

Draco Malfoy awoke violently from his nightmares. It was more than a nightmare; it was a memory that he was dreaming of, but the memory was not his own. The voice he had heard in his sleep had spoken with a silky eloquence, and the similarity to his own voice was almost chilling. He pushed back the soft sheets of his four-post bed and his bare feet delicately touched the icy cold marble floors. He padded across the room to the massive windows where black velvet curtains hung heavily, obstructing the view.

He pulled the curtains back to look outside, as though doing so might help clear the cobwebs from his own mind. The gardens of Malfoy Manor were falling into ruin without the House Elves. His mother would have been greatly disappointed in him for letting the acres of beautiful land fall apart to the wild. It hardly matters what mother would think. She's dead now.

That realization left him feeling even more cold and empty. Grey clouds had gathered over the Manor with the promise of rain and he suddenly had the urge to build a large fire in the hearth, wrap himself in a quilt and spend the day sleeping. But he had to deny himself such niceties, especially since the night before had left him with even more questions than answers.

I'm not sure if this path I'm taking leads to salvation or further towards insanity he thought with a heavy heart, turning from the window and back into his cold, dark chambers. As a child he had shown ignorant indulgence, and as a young man had been a coward. He doubted if he could ever really hope for any form of salvation. Still, he had people to seek if he was going to find the answers to the questions that still ate at him relentlessly.

No rest for the wicked he thought, opening his armoire and dressing for the tasks that lay ahead.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

By nightfall Hermione had gotten more than a little sick of having Ron as her shadow. He was easily distracted into fussing around with things, and he would pace around sighing until she would tell him he was free to go and then he would quickly sit down and tell her he was quite fine where he was.

“Honestly Hermione, I don't know how you stand such boring work!” Ron yawned as they exited down the dark corridors of the Ministry of Magic. It was strange to think of all that had happened here not so long ago with the rise of the Dark Lord, but Hermione turned her mind from this as they approached the floo hub.

“You may find it boring Ron, but I am quite sure that those afflicted by these injustices do not find it dull at all.”

“I know, I know” he responded, hurriedly waving his hand. “It's important work really, and I don't think anyone could handle it the way you have. My Dad is always raving about the different measures you have instituted single handedly that so many Ministers couldn't even dream of accomplishing...He's quite sure you will be the next Minister of Magic.”

“Oh I hope not” Hermione laughed dryly, and in a flash of green flames they were both back at her house. “You're not going to sleep over are you?” she asked without pretense.

“What? Why not?” Ron exclaimed, “You let Harry sleep over all the time!”

“That's because he bought the house for me, if you'll recall. It's really his house if anything.”

“Hmm, fair enough” Ron smiled, sticking his tongue out at her in a childish gesture. “But no, I wasn't going to sleep over. That's what Ginny is for!” Almost immediately after he announced this, his redheaded sister came bouncing out of the hearth and landed right beside them.

“Well how's that for timing!” Ron exclaimed triumphantly.

“Are you two psychic?” Hermione teased.

“It's a Weasley thing” Ginny shrugged.

“You really don't need to do this Ginny” Hermione urged.

“Yes, I do” the youngest Weasley persisted easily. “First of all, Ron explained to me what's been happening, and it's the least I can do to put his and Harry's minds at ease. Second... what kind of friend would I be if I subjected you to more time with my brother?”

“Hey! I'm still here!” Ron objected, but he was smiling. Seeing his sister almost always put him in a good mood. Unless of course, it was one of those occasions where Ginny teamed up with her mother to nag him about his choice in women. Not that Ginny was much better in the array of men she dated, a topic which the two girls quickly found themselves on after Ron departed.

“Are you dating Seamus Finnegan these days?” Hermione asked, dramatically slamming the alcohol cupboard closed with disgust and scrounging for some dinner. “I saw you dancing with him the other night.”

“Seamus? God no, he tried to kiss me though and it was terribly awkward. He's really not my type at all.”

“I wasn't aware you had a type” Hermione retorted.

“I suppose you got me there” Ginny responded, rolling her eyes. “I always thought that me and Harry would end up married and wildly in love, but that never happened. Not that I'm complaining, I don't think I'm really in love with him anymore, if I ever was. Mostly, I don't think Harry has room in his life for my silly romantic notions.”

“Harry doesn't have time for much of anything these days” Hermione agreed sadly, remembering again the haunted look in his eyes when they had last parted.

“But no, there's no chemistry there with Seamus. He's a nice boy though.”

“Ah, so that's your problem. He's too nice” Hermione divined with a smirk.

“That is so not true!” Ginny gasped. “Harry is nice, and I liked him...” Ginny broke off from this prattle as there was a loud thud heard from outside of the house. Suddenly the two girls snapped back into reality, and the training they had practiced during the days of the war came to life. They withdrew their wands and crept quickly towards the source of the noise, right outside the front door.

Hermione could feel her heart beating frantically in her chest but she quelled it with a long, steady breath. With a stern nod at Ginny they pulled the door open, wands pointed into the dark night on the other side.

Even in the dark the blood covered body was distinct. Hermione didn't need to check for a pulse; the young auror who had been guarding her house was clearly dead, a deep slash crossing his body diagonally, from one shoulder down to his hip.

“We have to get out of here” Ginny said, her tone tense. “NOW!” she grabbed Hermione's arm and before Hermione could react they gone from the scene of the murder and had landed in the middle of the Burrow, scaring Mrs. Weasley from her knitting.

“My goodness girls!” she yelped, “you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry mum, but Hermione's in danger, I apparated here because it was the first thing that popped into my mind!”

“Danger? What sort of danger?” Mrs. Weasley questioned, throwing her knitting aside and rushing to the girls. “Are either of you hurt? What happened?”

“I need to sit” Hermione responded weakly, the sight of all the blood on the doorstep of her beloved home turning her stomach. Mrs. Weasley ushered both of the girls into their chairs and Mr. Weasley was there a moment later, having heard the commotion from the other room. Did I know that poor boy? Hermione wondered, realizing her nerves had her shaking a bit. She could she his wide, staring blue eyes then, looking up at her from the darkness. She had seen death quite a bit, but it never got any less gruesome. And the manner of his wound... so shocking...

“Hermione dear, I need to know what's going on” Mr. Weasley said softly, breaking her away from her reverie.

“I received a threat just the other night” she said slowly, noticing Ginny looked quite pale, so Hermione gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “So my house was under protection by the aurors. There must have been over a dozen protective wards, I don't know how a single alarm wasn't sounded... but they killed him.”

“Killed who?” Mrs. Weasley asked, dread in her voice.

“An auror who was surveying the property. Just a young man, I didn't even know him but I could see his badge” under all the blood she finished in her mind.

“Well this is most startling” Mr. Weasley responded, his wife nodding in concerned agreement. “I thought we were finally in a time of peace.”

“There's never really peace in the wizarding world” Ginny said cynically. “There's always some maniac trying to purify the blood, or trying to gain world domination or whatever other idiotic thing.” Mrs. Weasley looked surprised at her daughter's harsh words but said nothing.

“We need to alert the aurors at once that they have a man down and you are safely in our custody” Mr. Weasley said, heading towards the fire. It was only moments later that there was a loud POP from the to the room, indicating that someone new had apparated into the Burrow. The only people who could do so were the Weasleys, and a few honorary Weasleys. Everyone else had to apparate at the perimeter of the property and walk in due to protective wards. This meant only one thing. Harry Potter had arrived.

She could hear his voice echoing from the other room as he talked sternly with Mr. Weasley. It was so familiar, and he was so near but she didn't dare go to him. What's wrong with me? she wondered. But she also knew the answer immediately. She was still scared of him, or whatever was happening to him. She steeled her nerve and followed Ginny to greet Harry in the other room. After all I've survived, I'm a fool if I'm afraid of Harry Potter.

As a child Harry had hardly looked the part of hero. That was one of the first things she really noticed about him, how normal he looked with his broken glasses, his messy hair, his too big clothes and his scrawny physique. Of course, he had only been 11, but he was a small 11 at that. A lot had changed, and the shy boy with the sweet smile was now a broad shouldered man with scars, a commanding gaze and a deep voice. As he stood there in his black auror robes, he looked almost more like a villain than a hero.

His eyes shifted from Mr. Weasley to hers, and her confusion about the Boy Who Lived was instantly lifted as their eyes met. There was deep concern in his gaze, and tender caring, the openly exposed, raw emotion that he reserved for her. How had she forgotten who he was? What he was? He was just a man, a boy really in many ways, a boy with messy habits and an obsession with Quidditch and a tendency to over drink at the pub with his mates from time to time. He was a human, with hopes and fears and dreams, and in that moment she forgot about the dead body at her doorstep. It was him she wanted to protect, and she felt her feet running towards him and threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly against her ear, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I'm fine, how about you?” she stepped back to investigate him thoroughly, and he gave her an incredulous look, confused as to how she could be worried about him when she was the one under a death threat.

“This is possibly the only time in our friendship that you're been the one they're after. Don't be worrying about me” he sighed. But she was worried. The dark circles under his eyes, the almost labored pain in his breathing. She wasn't able to broach the topic however, because Harry was instantly set to action, dictating what wards be set up and setting Mrs. Weasley and Ginny to work. Then in a heartbeat he was announcing he would have to be off.

“You'll be safe here at the Burrow” Harry assured her as he hurriedly headed for the fireplace to make his exit. “There's half an army of aurors stationed, and enough wards to keep out a legion of dark wizards, not to mention you and the Weasleys are on high alert. You couldn't possibly be safer anywhere else.”

“I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about you!” she half yelled, grabbing his arm and jerking him back to face her. “Talk to me for a minute, or I will hex you into oblivion!”

He saw the flash of anger in her eyes and grinned slightly in spite of himself. What made it so funny was that he knew if she really wanted to duel him, she most certainly could. He was considered to be this great and powerful wizard, but few knew the reality that Hermione was far more clever and aggressive when it came to dueling. And that was many of the things he adored so much about her. She had proven that she was the most powerful witch of her age, and her prowess in the Battle of Hogwarts was legendary. But she had chosen to put down her wand and pick up the quill to fight for equality for all.

“I can't talk right now, I need to meet with O'Rourke... we may have a lead, thanks to you might I add. When I come back, we will talk.” Having no other option she sighed and accepted his farewell, which included a brief, chaste kiss on the cheek.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy rubbed his temple with a combination of exhaustion and pain. He was having what felt almost like hallucinations as there were voices speaking from the back of his mind at random intervals, and sudden graphic images flooding his vision. Sometimes, he felt utterly unlike himself. Sometimes he felt a thirst for blood.

I can control this he thought to himself as he pulled the dark hood up over his platinum blond hair. His parents had been many things. Some said evil, some said vindictive, many said cowardly. But they had always been people of self-control and careful calculation. His parents were 6 feet under now, but their rigid sense of discipline had lived on in their son, the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune and all its dark past. I can control this he repeated to himself once more, shuddering slightly as the taste of blood filled his throat and then just as quickly disappeared.

He felt focused once more as he walked through the winding alleyways the led to Knockturn Alley. It was nearly pitch black out, but there was just enough silver light from the moon above to allow his eyes to adjust, and he walked surefooted, with an elegant stride. “The way you enter a room determines if you are a coward or a conqueror” his father had once said, slapping his son smartly for bad posture. Draco had heard the expression “walk in the room like you own it”, and frequently he had quite literally owned the property on which he trod. But despite how fitting the term appeared Draco would always prefer his father's saying, and he always walked like a conqueror. Even after his family had been branded coward.

As a child, I was often a coward he considered, stepping from the shadows, the full light of the moon exposing him as the pathway widened. But I found my spine, and I will show it to any who come in my way. He pulled his wand from his pocket now, listening carefully, ever on the alert. He would not be caught unaware, and he would get his answers on this night. He had to believe that if he was to keep going on.

He looked about, staring into the black shadows of tall, crooked brick buildings. He was poised to take the next step, and then he made the mistake that would change his life forever. Many say that a single mistake cannot ruin one's life. That is, of course, complete rubbish. For example, a single step too many on the edge of a cliff is a life ender. Life is always balanced on a knife's edge, and this was something Draco Malfoy had known for many years. Still, he made a mistake that changed it all. He looked up.

The moon has a strange allure over many people. It seems to subtly affect the masses of human beings as it waxes and wanes in the inky night sky. Draco rarely thought of the moon however. He had no love for astronomy or astrology, and the moon was as common and insignificant in his mind as its solar counterpart. But tonight, as he looked up, he was seized by those pesky hallucinations from earlier, and he found himself staring at the silver surface with such deep longing that he could not tear his eyes away. There was a sudden noise, a loud moaning. No, it's a HOWLING he realized, slowly coming back to himself, and all at once realizing that the sound from coming from his own throat. He trembled suddenly, jerking himself from the waking dream, only to find that a man dressed in black slowly approaching him, wand drawn in the shadows.

“Harry Potter” Draco Malfoy sighed with irritation. “I knew it was just a matter of time before you meddled in my business.”

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4. Chapter 4: The Serpent's Tongue

Author's Note: Thank-you to all of you who have reviewed! The only thing slowing my posts down is my continued writing of this story and the need to proof read before I post, but thanks for bearing with me Things start picking up a bit in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

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CHAPTER 4: Serpent's Tongue

Draco Malfoy was in prison and it didn't suit him well. Granted, he had thus far escaped the dreary walls of Azkaban while the justice system played out, but bars were bars, and he didn't need the dementors to feel hopeless. I have failed he thought miserably, and he sat on the hard slab that constituted a bed. Finally he was able to rest and pulled a thin cotton blanket around him. Had it been less than 24 hours ago that he had been in the lush extravagance of Malfoy Manor, wishing he could just sit by the fire and close his eyes? I have all the time in the world to relax now he thought with a heavy sense of self-loathing. It wasn't true of course. He had no doubt that the he would get the Dementor's Kiss once “justice” had its way with him.

Death was not what he feared. What truly left him with a feeling of unsettling emptiness was the knowledge that his questions would never be answered, that he would never redeem himself. If redemption is even possible he thought once more, curling up against the stonewall of his prison.

There were footsteps then, echoing down the corridor. Harry Fucking Potter he thought with certainty. It was bad enough to be caught, but far worse being trapped by the brat that saved the world. The world… and my life.

Oh how he resented that. Draco knew what a spineless coward he had been in those days, it was what haunted him in the night and kept him going on his mission even when he grew tired and disillusioned. But the fact that he had to be saved by the Boy Who Lived, the boy who beat him every year at Quidditch, who was lavished with adoration worldwide and who defeated the Dark Lord numerous times....that was the worst part of it all. Whenever Draco felt frustrated with himself, it was Harry Potter's condescending voice that would drift through his mind “Excellent work Malfoy, you spineless worm, you worthless Death Eater. Where's Daddy to save you now?”

Draco decided he would refuse to speak with Harry Potter. Sure, Draco was far wittier than Harry, but the jabs about him being an orphan and at his pathetic friends could only go so far. Draco was now also an orphan, and those pathetic friends of Potter's had become war heroes while the Malfoy family and their friends slunk away like kicked dogs. As the footsteps approached he tried to block off everything around him, to think about something happy, something that Harry Potter couldn't break through. Draco had learned about controlling his feelings. Careful control of emotions had always been something the Malfoy family strove for, but truly controlling fear and impulsiveness took more work. Lucius Malfoy could be as cold as ice, but his anger was hot as fire and it would leap out when he was instigated. Draco found himself to be much the same, but also to be haunted by fear all throughout his childhood. He could control both now, and he would do so to keep from giving Potter the pleasure of seeing him wound up.

Seeking a happy thought, Draco recalled the day that his father bought the Slytherin team the Nimbus 2001s. They had arrived in the Common Room and everyone from the Slytherin House gathered to watch as their team unveiled their newest weapon. They all looked at Draco with such awe and admiration as he boasted about the finer points of the beautifully crafted broom. He recalled that swelling feeling of pride in his chest. Pride for his family and his House, for his team as they adorned their practice gear and zoomed up into the sky, each flying with precision and a beauty that the Gryffindors could not even dream of. But now that dream became clouded by a barrage of angry, aggressive thoughts; Harry catching the snitch and Lucius' grave disappointment. No, beyond disappointment; disgust. And then Lucius' face once more, and the blood... all that blood...

“Draco Malfoy, I will be legally representing your before the Council of Magical Law” said a terse voice that he had not expected. He shot up from his bed, the cloudy thoughts erased from his mind and he walked briskly over to the bars of his prison. His emotions were masked, but his curiosity was evident, so the speaker continued. “The charges they are intending to set upon you are not in compliance with the Equality for Magical Beings Code, and it is my duty to ensure that you have a fair trial.” There was a pause. “It's my JOB. It doesn't mean I want to help you.”

“No more than I want your help Granger” he snarled in response.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“You're doing what?!”

“It's my job Harry” Hermione responded to her very flustered friend. “I would think you of all people understand that at times we do things not because we want to, but because they're right.” She was still staying at the Burrow ever since the attack at her home, and true to his word Harry had come to speak with her once they had Draco Malfoy in custody and he was done with a day of debriefing and other matters. In the meantime, she had gone into work where she had received Draco Malfoy's file on her desk.

“What is right about this?” he questioned gruffly, running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner, a gesture she had seen many time before.

“First off, I am the only person with access to the Death Eater files.”

“A fact that has nearly gotten you killed” Harry noted. “And you could show the files to any other lawyer you realize.”

“I do realize” she responded, trying to stay patient. “But they were entrusted to me for a reason. Many people become...illogical when faced with Death Eaters. I don't want some vigilante trying to kill off the forgiven Death Eaters. Justice has found them innocent, and it is my job to honor that.”

“There WAS a vigilante killing off the Death Eaters” Harry reminded her. “It was Draco Malfoy.”

“We don't know that for certain! You just aren't listening Harry, it's my responsibility, and it isn't an easy one. Do you think that after what they did to Muggle borns and what Belletrix Lestrange did...” she stopped, unable to finish the thought. “I have more reason than many to hate him. But if I let Death Eaters be hunted and unfairly thrown into Azkaban due to our prejudices and without the proper evidence, why, we are no better than they were.”

Harry considered this for a moment, sitting down on the bed beside her. She was staying in a Weasley guest bedroom, and the quilt was so clearly sewn by Molly it nearly made Harry smile. Nearly. He felt so tired, so bone weary. Evil never stopped, and it was one thing when he was chasing it alone, but now Hermione had been dragged back into it, and the Weasleys as well. I'm a death omen he thought. “I respect what you're saying Hermione, but Draco Malfoy is clearly responsible for the killings, and standing up for him court won't change his fate.”

“Like I said, we don't know for certain. We have to be certain.”

“What more evidence do you need! He was a known Death Eater, he refused to give any information to the auror's after the war, and he recently purchased all the ingredients needed to create a potion that would allow him to see into Fenrir Greyback's memories.”

“But WHY?” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Why would he start with his own parents?”

“They were traitors against Voldemort” Harry speculated, unsure of his own words.

“So was he! Why, he would have to kill himself wouldn't he?”

“Maybe it's a twisted sense of justice” Harry argued. “He saw his parents as weakening him when his Dark Lord was most in need, and he couldn't forgive that. We saw him pleading with that Death Eater, telling him how he was one of them...”

“He was scared” Hermione responded, dismissing that theory. “He would have said anything. But he fled into the night with Narcissa and Lucius, and he was forgiven.”

“He planned Dumbledore's death!” Harry nearly shouted. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Don't be flippant with me Harry Potter” she scowled, both on their feet now. Not so long ago she had feared him, but in the heat of their debate she had forgotten to care about that. “You know very well Draco didn't want any of that, of how he cried to Moaning Myrtle, of how he hesitated at the end. Just like he hesitated to identify you, or me for that matter, when we were captured. Or have YOU forgotten that?”

“I can't believe you're sticking up for him” Harry responded, disgust so thick in his voice that she flinched. “I shows the stupidity of all mudbloods that they have to find good where there is clearly evil. But then, you don't really know evil, now do you? You've seen it, but you've never felt it. It's powerful, and it's seductive.” He was stepping closer towards her now, and she saw the shift in his features once more, like someone else was staring out from behind those green eyes. She began to step back, knowing for the first time with full certainty that this wasn't Harry she was speaking with. She felt trapped, unsure of what to say, and as her back flattened against the wall, she drew her wand.

He eyed the wand and a strange smile came across his face. “What will you do with that? I don't think you could hurt me even if you wanted to, and let's be honest, you don't want to... look in my eyes. You trust me; we've been through everything together. You love me, possibly you're in love with me.” He was so close to her now, his green eyes staring straight into her soul and she felt her hand trembled slightly. He's playing with me she realized somewhere in the back of her panicked mind. Like a mouse with a toy.

“I do love Harry” she said softly, and he grinned, but not the sort of smile she usually received when she made him feel happy. His expression seemed to drip with malice; his straight white teeth gleamed like a predator about to bite. “There's only one problem” she whispered as he pressed in towards her. “You aren't him.”

He flew backwards, stunned harder than she intended, and his head collided with the wall so hard there was a loud crack. He lay unmoving on the floor and she rushed to his side, checking for injuries. A moment later the bedroom door swung open and Ginny and Ron were on the other side, gaping at the sight of a flustered Hermione perched over Harry's unmoving body.

“What the HELL happened in here?” Ron sputtered, his freckles looking unusually sharp against his sheer white skin.

“I had to stun him” Hermione said, her voice tight. “He wasn't himself...”

“Bloody hell, did he attack you?” Ron asked, quickly rushing to her side, putting a protective arm around her.

“No, but it seemed like he might. Something is wrong with him, it's like when you had that horocrux Ron, and you stopped acting like yourself.”

“No, I was acting like the worst version of myself” Ron admitted, carefully guiding a still shocked Hermione to sit on the bed as Ginny analyzed the scope of Harry's injuries. She was no medi-witch, but her time as a professional Quidditch player had taught her some key tricks when it came to dealing with nasty injuries. “All the things I said and did when that horocrux was around my neck, they were still me, they were my insecurities and fears, just amplified. But this version of Harry... it sounds nothing like him” Ron continued, feeling deeply concerned.

“I know” Hermione nodded, unable to take her eyes from Harry's still unmoving body.

“He's alright, just knocked out” Ginny said, as though reading her thoughts. “Is he dangerous... should we restrain him?”

“He told me that he thought he was going insane” Ron sighed. “I should have done more or I don't know… just listened better! He told me about how he grabbed you that night Hermione, but he was so desperately upset with himself that I was sure he would find a way to keep it from happening again.”

“Going insane?” Hermione asked. Her and Harry had still yet to have a discussion about what was causing his mood swings. She had thought maybe the lack of sleep and nightmares were getting to him, but she knew now she had been tricking herself. It wasn't just the things he said, it was the way he looked when he said them. Like somebody else was peering out from those green eyes. Something serious was happening to Harry Potter, and she needed to find out what.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy was trying to figure out a plan for escape. He had gotten past the brief phase of self-loathing and decided that if the mangy Sirius Black could escape the perils of Azkaban, Draco Malfoy ought to be able to escape a simple holding cell. Of course, he didn't have his wand, and while he was athletic in build he was far from a muscle man. Think Draco he scolded himself. Not all magic requires a wand.

This was true, but wandless magic was uncontrollable and mostly occurred in an entirely spontaneous manner. Draco prided himself on being well-read, and never in his studies had he come across a case of a witch or wizard who could channel magic without a wand in any productive way. Well that's not entirely true, now is it. Suddenly he was pounded with a barrage of memories, all scattered bits echoing through his mind and then that voice he had heard in his dreams...

Magic is an integral part of beings like you and I, and it can be controlled. A wand is simply a tool to help us, but the mind can be a far more powerful channel. Disgusting creatures like House Elves are able to use magic unaided, think what a wizard with powers such as myself is capable of...

Draco was beginning to have a sense of who the voice belonged to, and the thought of such power made him shudder. But something went wrong with your plan he thought as he came back to his senses. Something didn't quite work out, and oh how it must have upset you. Who was on the other side of your wrath? For certain, they will have the answers I seek... if they're even still alive.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching once more. It had been several hours since Draco had been visited by Hermione Granger, a visit which had only steeled his resolve that he must escape, and quickly. The footsteps were light, and he deduced it was a female. “Is my incompetent lawyer here to explain my rights again?” he drawled, but the footsteps did not cease, and the woman who passed his cage was not the brown haired mudblood he had known from school, but a tall and elegant auror with red hair, leading a suspended, and very unconscious Harry Potter.

Draco jumped to his feet, pushing his face against the bars as far as possible to see what was transpiring. The auror swung open the door to the adjoining cell, deposited the body of Harry Potter, and then locked the door with a resounding CLANG. “Whatever could this be about?” he pondered out loud, but the auror didn't answer. She stopped in front of his cell for just a moment, eyeing Draco thoughtfully, and then walked off without another word.

“Wait, you're not really going to leave Potter this close to my proximity are you?!” he shouted, but she was long gone. Once more Draco was left in silence, and more than ever escape was critical.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“It doesn't feel right locking him up like this” O'Rourke commented sharply. Unsure what else to do, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had decided it was best to contact Kingsley Shacklebolt who was still the head of the auror department. There had been much effort to install him as Minister of Magic, but the Ministry was still a horrific mess in the aftermath of the war, and the political construct was shaky to say the least.

Hermione had been an avid supporter of Shacklebolt for Minister of Magic as they often collaborated on issues of social justice. She trusted his judgment, but despite her disdain for O'Rourke, she had to agree that locking Harry up in a holding cell felt awfully wrong. Since his graduation from Hogwarts he had quickly risen in ranks as one of the greatest aurors since Mad Eye Moody, and treating him like a criminal was just...

“Insane!” Ron blurted out, finishing her thought. “This is utter bollocks. We called to get him some help, not to have him arrested!” Ginny looked equally displeased, but she had grown to be a bit more controlled than her brother when it came to emotional outbursts. She gently touched his arm, calming him, and suggested that they allow Kingsley to speak.

“Thank-you Ginny” Kingsley said with a kind nod. “I understand your dismay, but based on what Hermione has told me, it sounds like Harry is under some very dark enchantment. As you all know, Harry Potter is no ordinary wizard. If he is showing signs of becoming dangerous, we must take every possible precaution to keep him from harming others.”

Hermione wanted to say that he would never, that he was incapable, but his behavior over the past few days suggested otherwise. “You think he's under some sort of a spell?” she asked slowly.

Kingsley looked surprised. “What else could it be?”

There was an awkward pause as they all just looked at each other. Finally Ron spoke, his face clouded with unease. “Harry thought he might be going insane.”

Kingsley didn't look taken aback, merely as though he was considering this option. “It isn't uncommon for one to lose their mind in this line of work. But Harry does not strike me as the sort who would go mad. He has experienced a lot, and his marking trait has always been resilience.”

Hermione wanted to take comfort in Kingsley's words. Spells could be reversed, enchantments broken, curses could be stopped and there were antidotes to potions. But the only cure for insanity would to be to lock him up in St. Mungo's. She feared that even that would be more than Harry could hope for if he was truly mad. There was malice in him, and that combined with his power would make him quite dangerous. She tried not to think of what else could be done; sending him to Azkaban was unthinkable. She had been working with Kingsley in an effort to close Azkaban. It was inhuman, and being subjected to dementors was worse than she could wish upon even her enemies.

“I just think it's cruel to lock him up alongside Draco Malfoy” Ron said, his voice breaking through Hermione's reverie.

“The auror holding cells are the only place with enough wards that we can be certain he won't break free” Kingsley explained. “It will only be temporary, while we sort things out.”

“Malfoy won't be there for long I'm sure” Ginny chimed in, trying to assure her brother.

Hermione did not share Ginny's optimism. As much as she would like to pin the slaying of the Death Eaters on Draco, she had her own doubts, and as his lawyer, she would need to fairly represent those doubts.

As though sensing Hermione's hesitation, Ron spoke once more. “Draco IS guilty right Hermione?”

“I'm not really sure” she admitted truthfully.

“Oh come on!” O'Rourke spat. “The guy was running about in a black cloak in the middle of the night shortly after buying every odd ingredient one needs to create a werewolf fang pensieve, and howling at the moon! He's one of very few who could have known where Dolohov lived, and a known Death Eater himself!”

“Yes, but none of that proves he killed them” Hermione patiently maintained. “It's almost certain he took the fangs from Greyback before he was killed. But it's not certain that Malfoy did the killing.”

“So, you're suggesting that he snuck into Azkaban, stole Greyback's fangs so he could enjoy the gruesome memories later for kicks, and then just left the werewolf in excruciating pain until someone else finished him off?”

“I'm not suggesting anything except for the fact that it could be possible. Furthermore, there are many other troubling questions. Why did he kill his parents? Why did he want Fenrir's memories in the first place? And most importantly, how has he been concealing his identity all along, and using such rare and unheard of spells?”

“I can't believe you're defending him!” Ron blurted out. “Don't you see, it was him who sent you that death threat!”

“Whoever did the killing most certainly did send me the death threat, I agree. According to Kinglsey they used the exact same curse to kill that poor auror stationed on watch as they used on the Death Eaters. But we do not have any proof that any of this was done by Malfoy. I am not saying Draco Malfoy is guilty or innocent. Just that he deserves a fair trial, without biased presumptions based on his history.”

“What if you get him off and he comes back and kills you?” Ron asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“I am not looking to get him out of any charges he is deserving of. Besides, there will be one very tell tale sign of his guilt, if he is in fact guilty.”

“What's that?” Ginny asked calmly, trying to soothe her flustered brother by placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“If the murders of past Death Eaters stop.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

When Harry awoke, it was with a loud groan. His head felt like it was in a vice being clamped down on very hard. He was lying on a hard bed and when he tried to sit up and adjust to his surroundings he instantly became quite dizzy. He closed his eyes tightly and allowed himself a few moments of calm breathing.

“Finally awake then Potter?” asked a voice with an all too familiar drawl.

This is a nightmare Harry thought to himself. That is the only explanation as to why I would be waking up to Draco Malfoy.

He opened his eyes once more, and slowly they focused. He sat up very cautiously, and when it dawned on him where he was he nearly fell back over. I've been locked up he ascertained. He knew instantly where he was from the cobalt blue painted cement walls. He had locked a number of criminals up in these very cells in the past few years. One of them had been only hours before... Draco Malfoy.

“What did you do Potter? Did you finally out live your usefulness? I mean, in my opinion you ought to have bit it years ago along with your Muggle loving parents. But I suppose we're all entitled to our own opinions in this glorious new democracy we live in.”

Harry clenched his teeth. He replayed the past twelve hours. Finding Draco Malfoy, locking him up, filing paperwork, hearing Hermione would be defending Malfoy before the Council, going to discuss the matter with her...

Hermione he thought, pain welling up in him. He remembered what he had said to her, all those cruel words and the feeling fear coming from her in warm waves. It had felt so inviting, almost seductive. He could have reached out and broken her neck and it felt so empowering, almost arousing...

He rushed to the small metal toilet in the corner of the cell and wretched out the little food he had consumed over the past 24 hours. He was quite sure that the last full meal he had eaten was the breakfast Hermione had cooked three days ago. He sat in the corner, burying his face in his arms and thinking intensely about all that had happened.

“Silent treatment then eh Potter?” Malfoy's voice said after some time had passed. “Or maybe this is all a really transparent tactic in order to get me to confess to my crimes.”

“Well, did you do it?” Harry asked, for no other reason than to stop the flood of guilt that was threatening to drown him. A conversation with Draco Malfoy was the furthest thing from fun in Harry's mind, but it was a distraction and he needed that now.

“No wonder they say you're the greatest auror of our times!” Malfoy scoffed sarcastically. “With such clever methods of inquiry, I'm sure the Dark Lord himself would have professed his darkest secrets.”

“You'd be surprised” Harry retorted dully. “Voldemort did love to share his plans with me. Oh how he'd elucidate on every detail of his morbid existence.”

On the other side of the prison wall Draco pondered this, unsure if Harry was being sarcastic. He decided ultimately, that Harry was probably being truthful. Draco himself had many less than fond memories of Voldemort pacing about the meeting table, his long black robes swishing dramatically as he discussed his plans for domination in grim specificities. The man sure liked to talk about himself.

“I don't know if I did it” Draco said then, anger suddenly rousing up in him. “I still haven't been informed of what I'm being held for.”

“Then I doubt it's for me to tell you.”

“But we're prison buddies now, aren't we Potter?” he asked, his voice clearly indicating that he would never, ever, consider Harry James Potter to be his “buddy”.

Silence returned to the prison cells for several hours.

When Harry spoke again, his tone was different somehow. Draco Malfoy had learned to carefully sense shifts in emotions, he had learned to gauge his enemy and weigh his sense of trust. He walked through life like he was perpetually treading on thin ice. “Tell me Malfoy, how did it feel to kill your own parents? I saw their corpses you know. All that blood, did it disgust you or thrill you?”

Draco felt cold suddenly. He rushed to the bars of his prison, as though he could break their iron with his slender frame. “I will get out of here Potter, and when I do, I will kill you” he said through gritted teeth, unable to contain his blind rage for a moment. But slowly, he gained calmness again, and over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears, he heard laughter. Cruel, slow... familiar laughter.

Draco Malfoy had hated Harry Potter for many reasons. As a child, he hated the fact that Potter had chosen to associate himself with such a mixed bag of people. The Weasley's poverty disgusted him, and he knew mudbloods to be a stain on the history of wizardry. He had given Potter a chance to be embraced by the Malfoys, a noble and prestigious family that could have shaped Harry's raw powers and skill into something of real worth. Potter had turned him down, and that was the first in a long series of slights.

Later in life, Draco had grown to increasingly hate Potter for his fame. Everyone worshiped the ground he walked on. Potter as a natural at Quidditch, a favorite of most professors, a passionate leader, a beloved hero, a triwizard champion, and eventually, a romantic obsession of girls throughout the wizarding world. It was sickening. It ought to have been Draco's birthright to be most popular boy at Hogwarts. He had money, power, a rich family history, intellect, cunning and natural good looks. But Potter robbed him of it all.

There were many reasons he could list why he hated Harry Potter. But there was one very powerful reason that stood out the most, a reason that he would never admit to others and could barely confess to himself. He envied the love that Harry clearly experienced. Unlike Draco, Harry was an orphan, but the love he shared with his friends was far more tangible than what Draco got from his own parents. Even as an outsider Draco envied Harry's genuine smile, the glow in his eyes when he was with his friends, and the way they looked at him in return. He envied the closeness of Harry's friendships- he was hardly ever alone, even when things became dangerous. There was such loyalty between Harry and his friends, and a sense of love that Draco was so far from understanding. Harry, Ron and Hermione- the golden trio. Always seen whispering conspiratorially in the Great Hall, or walking side by side along the lake, or filling the halls with easy laughter...

Yes, Draco Malfoy knew Harry Potter's laugh, and it sounded nothing like this cold cackle that now echoed through the holding cells. Still, it was so familiar for some reason. A cold, slow laugh that was devoid of actual happiness but ripe with cruel satisfaction. Draco stepped back from the bars, his head spinning suddenly as the barrage of memories that were not his own flooded up into his mind's eye. And then he knew exactly who the laugh belonged to.

“Tom Riddle?” Draco asked quietly. The laughter stopped.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione tried to sleep that night, but as she lay in her small bed at the Burrow, all she could think of was Harry locked up. Finally, she abandoned hopes of rest and headed down to the kitchen where she found she wasn't the only one awake.

Ginny and Ron sat before the warm glow of the fire, each clutching a steaming mug of some unknown substance. They were talking quietly, and Hermione thought to announce her presence, but then somehow thought better of it. She simply studied them for a while, hiding in the dark shadow of the doorway, her blanket still draped around her shoulders.

Ron was sitting hunched forward in his chair, his elbows rested on his knees, the flames creating a silhouette of his figure. Ginny was turned towards him, settled neatly in a rocking chair with a knit blanket over her knees. She swayed slowly back and forth, the orange flames of the fire lighting her features and casting a spectacular glow in her red locks.

“I feel really unsettled about the whole thing” Ron was saying, his voice miserable.

“Well, it is unsettling” Ginny agreed.

“It's more than that though... I don't think he's cursed or anything like that. I mean, he could resist the imperius curse right? And it's not like he's in a sort of daze. Hermione and O'Rourke both said it's like he's a whole other person, like someone else is looking out from behind his eyes... what if he isn't even really Harry? What if it's someone polyjuiced as him?”

“They can tell that sort of thing easily Ron” Ginny said, her tone logical. The youngest Weasley had changed in many ways since her teenage years. She had gained confidence and poise, and while her Quidditch career kept her away for long periods of time, these absences only seemed to improve her development as an individual. “They ran some initial tests on him before they even locked him up. He isn't a polyjuice copy, and he isn't under any usual curse.”

“So if he is cursed, it's something very rare and unheard of” Ron deduced. “Or he's possessed.”

“I couldn't even speculate on that. I've never heard of it happening in reality, I'm not even sure it's possible” Ginny frowned, pulling the blanket on her lap up over her shoulders.

“It's not possible” Hermione finally said, causing them both to jump.

“Blimey Hermione, way to scare the bloody hell out of me!” Ron scowled. Then his expression softened as she stepped into the light. “Can't sleep either? We're trying some warm milk, care for a cup?”

She nodded and pulled a chair up to the warm heath, instantly becoming lost gazing into its light. She remembered many long nights sitting around fires like this with Ron and Harry as they searched for the horocruxes. Often the silence of these evenings was terribly pervasive as they all retreated deep into their personal fears, letting the pop and crackle of the flames fill the night. Most often, the thought that kept her going was that eventually they would prevail, and things would go back to normal. But they never really had, and she felt naive for ever thinking it possible. Now that she had grown up, she sensed the absurdity in believing that deep emotional scars could easily heal; that she could go on and marry Ron and that Harry and Ginny would finally work out.

She snapped awake from her thoughts as she realized Ginny had been repeating her name. “What do you mean it's not possible?” Ginny asked.

“I should clarify” Hermione quickly responded. “You might say that Voldemort possessed Professor Quirell, but Quirell was a willing host. There has been no actual record of possession in which a witch or wizard is unknowingly taken over by another being. There's the imperious curse of course, but that's not a possession in which two consciousnesses share a body.”

“Well, if there's anyone who could experience a never before recorded phenomenon, it would be Harry” Ron sighed. Nobody could argue.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

After Draco had called out Tom Riddle's name there had been hours of complete silence, which was quite eerie. Draco pondered calling out for help, asking to be moved, but he knew it would be futile. Clearly, there were very strong wards on these cells because there were no guards in sight, and none had come by since dinnertime.

Draco tried to sleep, curling up on the uncomfortable bed, but it was impossible to close his eyes in the dark without hearing that laughter in his mind once more. He resorted to sitting upright, the thin blanket draped over his shoulders, his knees pulled in closely to his chest. He tried to clear his mind of fear by going through the same old exercises he had taught himself. He focused on even breathing.

It was sometime close to dawn when Harry spoke this time, and this time his voice sounded normal. “Why did you call me Tom Riddle?”

Draco sat, unmoving. He couldn't decide whether to answer. If he was going insane, it may not be wise to provoke him. Presumably the thick concrete wall between them would keep him safe, but insanity could drive wizards and witches to elevated levels of power. There was also the fact that Draco had no desire to help Harry Potter in any way. Still, curiosity got the best of him.

“You sounded like him, when he was young. Before he became... more monster than man.”

“I sound like him when he was still Tom Riddle.” Harry stated more than asked.

“You don't sound surprised.”

“I feel like him too, when I go off like that. Or, what I'd imagine he must have felt like.”

“So you're bat shit insane.”

Harry chose not to respond. He had no way of realizing, but he was sitting in the exact same position as Draco Malfoy, only the concrete wall blocking them from being back to back. He took in a long breath to keep from getting angry. He didn't want to change again. “How do you know what Tom Riddle sounded like? You served him when he was much older.”

“Served him” Draco wretched at the use of words.

“Well didn't you?” Harry half shouted. “You led to Albus Dumbledore's death under the orders of your so-called Dark Lord.”

“And what would you know of it Potter?” Draco hissed. “He had my entire family under his control, he...” Draco thought of saying more, of explaining how Voldemort was making an example of them, of how Draco barely slept for a year having to choose between doing something horrible or the death of himself and his family. He thought about telling Harry about the fear that hung over his head like an inescapable storm, and the even worse guilt that came when the storm cleared. But it was none of Harry-Fucking-Potter's business.

“If you don't consider yourself his servant, then why were you killing the other Death Eaters off? It had to have been revenge, it's the only thing that makes sense.”

When Draco heard these words he was struck speechless. So that's what they think I did Draco realized, feeling like a fool. They think I was killing all those Death Eaters... my own parents... there was a sort of sense to it he realized once he pushed aside the initial rush of rage. “I was trying to track down who is doing the killings” Draco finally said, his voice sounding small as it left his lips and echoed through the dark prison. “I wasn't killing anybody, I was trying to find out who killed my parents.”

“But, you took Greyback's teeth just before he was killed.”

“Yes, good deduction Potter. And had I stayed another hour or so I could have caught the culprit that offed him. How it would have irked you for Draco Malfoy to be the one who solved the puzzle for once. I needed his teeth to see into his memories... I doubt you had any clue that werewolf fangs can be used to see into their memories.”

“How do you think we found you?” Harry sighed.

“Ah, of course” Draco said flatly. There was some grey light coming through the bars of his cell now, and he knew the sun was slowly rising. “But you didn't figure it out did you? Just like you didn't figure out what I was planning at Hogwarts until it was too late. Your mudblood girlfriend told you I bet. `Oh Harry, you're truly hopeless. Didn't you know that werewolf fangs have only one purpose?'” His imitation of Hermione Granger was so spot-on that it set Harry's nerves on edge, and he felt a slowly rising rage he could only just push down. “She may be a detestable know-it-all bitch but she was always clever. And even fairly shaggable I suppose. Even I can settle for a mudblood slut from time to time.”

Harry's anger exploded from him with such force that he lost vision and in his blindness he felt a surge of energy escape his body, and it was unlike anything he'd ever felt. The floor beneath his shook violently, and there was a loud BANG and when he could see again he realized that the bed he had been resting on was torn from the wall and had been launched against the prison bars so hard it had splintered into pieces. The bars remained unmoving however, and now there was a wailing so loud he clamped his hands tightly over his ears.

“Well, now you've done it Potter!” Draco's voice shouted, his voice barely audible above the roar. “You've set off the wards!”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione had barely fallen asleep when an owl from the ministry was tapping on the guest bedroom window. She was being summoned to the auror headquarters, and when she arrived downstairs to access the floo network she realized she wasn't the only one. Ron stood, looking dreadfully sleepy, his hair sticking up oddly on one side. He waved a similar envelope at her and they were urgently off to see what new developments could have possible emerged in less than 24 hours.

When they arrived, they found Kingsely sitting in his office. He had always been a modest man and his office was quite small and impossibly tidy. The only decorations were a few tasteful items of art, and there were no papers scattered on his polished wooden desk. He urged them to take a seat, his face grave.

“Just about an hour ago there was a disturbance in our holding cells the likes of which I have never seen. I have called you both here because you are the closest remaining thing Harry has to family, and I feel someone ought to be notified of the gravity of the situation.” He went to explain how the wards had sounded, and how Harry's holding cell had nearly been ripped apart. “Wandless magic isn't unheard of, but is difficult to control and rarely of this magnitude. Something is deeply disturbing the very core of Harry's being, and I'm afraid I am not qualified to even take a guess what it may be at this time. I can assure you, we have every possible resource looking into this matter.”

Ron reached out blindly and grabbed Hermione's hand in an absent gesture. He looked white as a sheet, and Hermione's expression was unreadable, as though she was struggling with something buried deep within her. “I can't promise we can help him. Things seem to be escalating quickly and we have no method to even hope to slow it. I'm afraid he's quickly becoming more dangerous than we could have ever expected. I want to be honest and direct because you both deserve that.”

“Can we talk to him?” Hermione asked, her calm tone surprising even the ever-prepared Kingsley Shacklebolt. He pondered this for a moment, and then nodded. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were not the type of people he needed to feel responsible for protecting. They had seen far more in their teen years alone than most aurors would face in a lifetime.

He led them to their holding cell, and then closed the door behind them, giving the two privacy as they walked down the narrow corridor leading to Harry's cell. Hermione did not turn to give Draco has much as a glance as they passed, but Ron seemed unable to help himself. “About time the monkey is behind bars” Ron said in a quiet, angry voice.

“That's not a very nice thing to say about Potter” Draco said, his voice mockingly sweet.

Ron lunged at him, as though he would pass through the bars and attack, but Hermione absently pulled him back “don't bother” she said, but it was the way that she said it which cut Draco in a way he would not have expected. Her voice sounded so distracted, like Draco was merely a fly she swatted aside. But even an obnoxious fly had to be seen, and she had not so much as glanced his way for a moment. She was all consumed by her concern for Harry Potter, and that made Draco feel suddenly small and alone. Nobody had ever cared about him like that.

When Hermione saw Harry she was shaken for the first time by the reality of the situation. His cot had been ripped from the wall with such force that there were cracks running through the concrete in all directions. There was a pile of debris that he had carefully cleaned up and piled in the corner, unsure of what else to do. Nobody was willing to open his cell or have him moved as they were still trying to understand what was happening to him. She heard a sharp sob of pain, and realized it came from her as her knees weakened and she nearly fell to the ground. Ron had grabbed her, and was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

Harry sat in the corner, looking small, his head buried in his arms. Slowly he moved, and she was afraid of what she would see when his eyes looked at her. Would he still be Harry? It was shadowy in his prison, but even from a distance she recognized those caring green eyes. He was himself, and he was looking at her with far more concern than she deserved. After all, HE was the one in prison and on the verge of complete insanity. “Thank-you for coming” was all he said, and Hermione burst into tears.

He couldn't stand to see her cry and rose suddenly to his feet to approach her, but then thought better of it and sat back down. “I'm not sure if I'm safe to be neat.”

Hermione lowered herself until she was sitting on the other side of the bars, and Ron gradually released her, standing with his head hanging. Ron felt like his heart was being ripped from his body. Losing Fred had been nearly unbearable, but somehow Harry was even worse. Especially to lose him in this way; a criminal burying all his life accomplishments in a pile of rubble. He focused on his feet to avoid crying himself.

Hermione sucked in a long breath, stopping her tears. “Okay, I'm done acting like a silly woman. Let's get done to it. They don't know what's happening Harry, but I will figure it out, I always do right? Right.” She continued before anyone could disagree. “You need to tell us everything.”

He told them about it had started slowly, about feeling joy at the sight of blood and death, about how it lashed out suddenly at the worst times. About how it seemed especially hell bent on hurting Hermione, and how he had liked the feeling of her pain. He even told them how Draco had called him Tom Riddle, and how he felt like what he imagined Tom Riddle must have once felt. It was difficult telling them all of this, but he knew it needed to be done. And when he was done telling them every detail he could think of, he explained why he had needed to tell them.

“I don't expect that there is any cure for this, whatever it may be. Maybe I'm just truly insane. But I can tell there's no stopping it, and I think now you know the extent of how bad it is. So when the time comes, when I lose control again... I need you to accept what Kingsely will have to do. I need you accept that he is going to kill me, and it is the right thing. The only thing.”

Ron shook his head violently, and then turned and punched the wall with such force he howled in pain. “That is utter bollocks Harry! After all that we survived, this is not how it ends. You're supposed to settle down someday, stop chasing evil, marry the girl of your dreams and make an abundance of babies to go to ride the Hogwarts Express with my future kids. You are going to get through this like everything else, and then, you are going to take a boring job at the ministry and be safe for once, and every night we'll get bloody wasted and watch Quidditch and things will be okay. You've always been a fighter Harry, you'll fight this too.”

“All my fight is gone Ron” he said simply, no self-pity or loathing in his tone.

Before Ron could say anything, Hermione chimed in. “Harry, come closer please.”

“It's not safe.”

“Let me decide that. I have followed you to death's doorstep many times, let me decide about my own safety. You owe me that much right now.”

He could not argue, and so much of him desperately wanted her to make him better. How many times had he shown up broken and bleeding at her home, and she had healed him? He wanted to believe she could heal him now. He moved towards the bars and allowed her to take his hand. There was a slight shake in her grip, so he tightened his.

“I'm going to figure this out, and I promise” she whispered, emotion rising in her voice once more. “I've followed you all my life, and if you're gone, I won't know where to go. So don't say things like that to me and Ron, it's not fair, and...” her voice broke off as tears came openly from her eyes, pouring down her face. His hand reached through the bars and touched her cheek and the gesture was so gentle, so Harry, that she stopped shaking a bit, her nerves calming.

“I'm not quitting just yet. You're right, it's not fair, and I'm sorry. I'm tired is all, but I need to tell you something now before you go. Come close.”

Ron watched as Harry whispered something into Hermione's ear. The two still gripped hands as they sat on either side of the prison bars, and as Hermione turned her head to listen, Harry leaned in until his lips were just brushing her ear. Ron watched this, and for a brief moment he wondered about their relationship for the first time in his life. Ginny was quite sure there was something secretive and romantic between them, but why should it be a secret? And how could they have kept it up this long without him noticing? He shook his head; it was utter foolishness. He knew them better than anyone-- they had a very unique, but very platonic, loving friendship. Still, the way they moved so comfortably near each other, even in the face of great peril...

Ron could not hear a word she said, but when they parted she gave him an odd look. They released hands and then she nodded at Ron that it was time to go.

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5. Chapter 5: My Enemy's Enemy

Author's Note: Chapter 5 has arrived! I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks again to those of you who take the time to review, it really makes my day and encourages me to keep posting. It's always really interesting to hear where you think things are headed as well. Without further ado…

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CHAPTER 5: My Enemy's Enemy

“What did he say to you?” Ron asked as soon as he and Hermione had left the aurors' headquarters.

“He said that I need to be careful because he doesn't think Malfoy is guilty. Malfoy told Harry that he was trying to discover who had killed his parents. They were both looking for the same culprit, and their paths crossed.”

“And Harry believes him?” Ron asked, incredulous.

“He seemed fairly certain. Harry has become very good at reading people, and I have to think he's right. Which means that if whoever was killing the Death Eaters is still out there, and if that person is the same one who threatened me, I am still far from safe.”

“Why did he need to whisper it?”

Hermione paused for a moment, and then to Ron's great surprise, she began to laugh. “He didn't want Draco Malfoy to hear him. Even with all that's going on, he couldn't bear to think that he was helping Malfoy in any way.”

Ron smiled smugly. “Well, some things never change.” They took a sharp turn down a corridor Ron had never seen in the ministry. “Where are we going?”

“The library of course” she responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes and followed along.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy needed to think carefully. While there were many things he had failed at in his youth, calculated thinking had never been one of them. Lucius had taught him that life was like a chess match, and you always needed to be several steps ahead. Of course, Lucius' greatest fault had been his pride, and too often he underestimated his opponent. Draco was very considerate of this fact as he determined what to do about what he was currently calling “The Harry Potter Situation”.

Draco wanted to escape; no more than that- he needed to escape. He was certain that if redemption existed, it would only come through finding the truth about his parents' killer. And he could not seek the truth from behind locked bars. It was clear that Harry had the ability to destroy the entire cell. In fact, there were very thin cracks running through the wall on Draco's side now. If he could get Harry angry once more, if he could use that power to tear down the walls, he could escape.

But there was a fatal flaw to that plan. Once the walls had fallen, there would be an angry Harry and a wandless Draco left standing. Harry would need to calm himself, and fast or else Draco would surely end up a bloody splatter on these ugly concrete surroundings. Draco paced rapidly as he thought, and he felt himself shake slightly with a mixture of anger and disgust as the reality of the solution became apparent. Draco would not be able to anger the sleeping beast in Harry Potter and then skip away to sweet freedom... at least, not unless they were able to work together.

Work with Potter? Draco pondered, a sick feeling coming over him. I need to ignore my damned pride he tried to convince himself. It wasn't easy though. Harry Potter was everything Draco detested, and worse yet, he was a reminder of everything Draco hated in himself. Draco had forced himself to overcome much, but this felt like the tipping point. Stay in prison and rot, or find the truth with Potter. He weighed his options.

When Draco finally spoke, the day was quite old and many hours had passed. The sun had come and gone, and once more the two young men were in the darkness, each being tormented by their own demons. “Potter, I have a proposition for you.”

“No” was Harry's simple response.

“You haven't even heard it yet” Draco said with mild irritation. Thick-headedness from the Boy Who Lived was not entirely unexpected.

“I don't want to talk to you Malfoy. I promised my friends that I would hold on as long as possible, and something about you really makes me lose it.”

“Funny enough, you're not the first one to tell me that. Usually, it's a girl saying such kinky things but I'll take the compliment nonetheless.” There was no response from the other cell. “Listen, you say you made a promise to your friends, but it's not one you can keep. Not without help.”

“Oh, and you're offering to help me?” Harry asked, his voice ripe with sarcasm.

“I am willing to make an exchange of favors. I will help you with your... condition, and you will spring me from this cell.”

“What do you know about my `condition'?”

“More than you might think. It would seem that fate, being the cruel bitch she is, has decided our paths must cross. And so we find ourselves in a predicament, which I am not afraid to say neither of us likes. But I know exactly what has happened to you, because I have read about it. And I dare say, none of your friends will have access to the book I read.”

“Don't be so cocky Malfoy. They have access to quite a lot of resources, the days of the Hogwarts Library are far in the past.”

“Oh is that so? You think they have a copy of Tom Riddle's diary?”

Harry's blood froze. “I destroyed it” Harry said, remembering piercing the black binding with the basilisk tooth, and ink running from its pages like dark blood.

“Yes, yes, I recall all that. My father was quite furious. But as you said yourself Potter, Voldemort did love to talk about himself.”

“He had another journal” Harry said slowly, running to the bars as he realized that there may be some hope behind Draco's words.

“He had another journal” Draco echoed, a smirk on his lips. “And if you want to know what it has to do with your current state, then you are going to have to make me a promise. A promise that you will never, ever, be able to break.”

“Very well. But before we do this, you need to tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Draco had hoped that Potter wouldn't say this, but he had half expected it. He sat down on his cot, and made himself comfortable as he prepared to tell a long story.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoy family had retreated back into the dark walls of Malfoy Manor. Inevitably they were tried as Death Eaters, but they were pardoned because they had defected in the end. Additionally, Narcissa and Lucius had expounded quite a bit of their knowledge to the aurors. Only Draco had remained silent throughout, refusing to speak to anyone.

It wasn't because Draco still had allegiances to the Dark Lord. In fact, in those days after the war ended, if there was one person he hated more than Harry Potter it was Voldemort. He hated the way he had made his once proud parents beg and crawl. He hated how he had instilled such fear in Draco that he had made him a spineless coward, and a man without any convictions to live by. Everything Draco had done had been purely out of fear, and once that fear was gone there was just a hollow, useless shell of a man.

And so Draco retreated from the public. While his parents refused to accept their shame and paraded about the wizarding world trying to reclaim their blood right to importance, Draco simply sat watching the gardens change, and he rarely spoke. He began to read countless books, and along the way he gained much knowledge. But he felt he could never be redeemed for his cowardice. He felt disgusted by his parents, whom he had once adored, and even their presence was no consolation to him. Reading books was the only way to pass the endless stream of seconds in the years that followed.

It all abruptly changed in a single night. Draco had been restlessly wandering the rows of the prestigious Malfoy Manor Library when he heard footsteps enter the room. His parents closed the door and he heard them talking in hurried whispers. “I tell you, someone is in the house” Narcissa hissed.

“Impossible, the ward would have gone off. You must have just heard Draco...”

“The sound came from the yard! What would Draco be doing out there?”

“Flying?” Lucius said, his tone growing louder with annoyance. “Honestly, what are you on about, I haven't seen you act this foolish since--” he stopped short. There were footsteps in the hallways now. “Draco?” Lucius called out, trying to sound imperious, but there was a nervousness in his voice.

“I'm here Father” Draco said, stepping from behind the books. Narcissa shrieked, but both Draco and Lucius grabbed their wands. Draco tried to step forward towards the door, but Narcissa through herself in front of him, wailing.

“Hide yourself Draco, please. I don't know who they are, but they don't want you. Just hide!”

Draco was about to push her aside but there was a look in his father's eyes he had never seen before. Lucius had never told Draco he loved him, never hugged him or tucked him in at night. At most there was the rigid and almost aggressive pat on the back, the sort that said “good work, but never think I would settle for anything less”.

Now however, Lucius had a look of protectiveness in his eyes. An emotion Draco would never imagine his father capable of, and Draco would never forget the look in his eyes, nor his final words. “Run.”

Draco turned, and he would never know if it was from cowardice, or out of a sense that this would be his parents' final wish. He found his way through the maze of books, and ducked down low, still clutching his wand. He heard the door break open and the voice of a man speak. “Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, you are being exterminated as a result of knowledge imparted on you by Tom Riddle. This is part of a cleansing process.”

The words were rigid, automatic and robotic. It was like the man was saying, “You have been selected to participate in a survey of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans”. But before his parents could even react, there was a swift chopping noise, and the sickeningly distinct sound of flesh and bone being cut. Then the sound of footsteps faded away once more.

Every night since then Draco had nightmares of finding their corpses. Lucius and Narcissa both lying unmoving, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Their bodies had been slashed open at a diagonal angle from shoulder to hip. The cut was so deep he could see every intestine, every organ as their still warm blood poured endless across the smooth marble floors. Draco wanted to weep, but no tears would come. All that emerged was a sick, retching sound, but he did not get sick.

He ran outside, feeling the cold air wake him from what previously seemed like it could only be a nightmare. Almost blindly he found his broomstick and took off into the night.

When he returned the aurors were swarming his home. He pretended not to know what was happening. He didn't want the aurors to know a single thing about what had happened. They had done nothing to save his parents. In fact, he was quite sure they were jovial over the deaths of two known Death Eaters. He allowed Kingsely Shacklebolt to take him aside and explain about the murder. He pretended to become very ill, excusing himself to the bathroom. There he stood as aurors combed every inch of Malfoy Manor, his last refuge and place of safety-- now no longer so. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and tried to think long and hard about what to do next. That was the moment when he knew it was time to stop running and hiding. If he was going to ever stop loathing himself, he would need to make a stand. He would find out who killed his parents, and he would exact revenge.

He pretended to have been out of the house when it all happened. With no evidence or witnesses to the contrary, the aurors had to believe his tale. The bodies were cleared away, and shortly after buried in the Malfoy funeral plot. Once his parents were underground, Draco set to his work.

The Manor had always been haunted, but it felt especially so with the recent gruesome death of his parents. That, and there was the pervasive and never relenting sense of silence in the hallways. Each corridor seemed to judge him, to await his next move as the last Malfoy walked tirelessly through the house, trying to plan his retribution. He covered all the portraits lining the hallways, tired of hearing their cutting words about his duty as the last heir to the Malfoy name.

When he set to action, it was decisive. He started following the aurors, needing to know what they knew. He followed them the night that they found the slayed body of an old man in a field. They did not recognize him, but Draco knew that the man had been a very top-secret informant to Voldemort during the first war. His parents had once shown Draco the picture of the man, who went by the name Gregory Faubert and was deemed a blood traitor when he did not return to serve his master.

The death of Faubert had led Draco to believe that whoever was doing the killing was systematically seeking revenge on traitors of the Dark Lord. But that did not fit with what Draco had heard that awful night his parents had been slayed. Their murderer had delivered their death decree with such calm uncaring. It had not been a man looking to lash out with something as emotional and sticky as revenge. Furthermore, whoever it was, his parents surely did not recognize him or they would have called his name out.

Draco ruled out the killings as being part of a Death Eater's revenge. He made a list of every Death Eater he still knew to live, and decided he would question them. The young ones would clearly be of no use. His parents' killer had mentioned Tom Riddle by name- not Voldemort but Tom Riddle. It seemed as though Riddle had imparted some information on his friends in their youth, something that the killer did not want remembered. Naturally, most of the surviving Death Eaters had never known Tom Riddle before his days as Voldmort.

So Draco created a short list of the few who had known Riddle. There was Antoine Dolohov who was in hiding still, but by the time Draco got to him, he was already dead. As he tried to solve the mystery of his parent's murderer, he went to the books and read everything he could think of.

Whoever was committing the murders used the same curse each time; a curse which resulted in a gory and fatal gash across the body. However, the murderer had not spoken an incantation when Draco was in hiding. Somehow, the spell was done silently. Silent magic was something Draco could find little to nothing on.

He turned instead to Tom Riddle's diary, which had been tucked away safely in Lucius' well hidden safe. After the war had ended, aurors and ministry workers of all sorts combed Malfoy Manor carefully; taking any items they deemed to be dark magic. Some things, however, had been carefully hidden away. The diary was amongst these things, and it became Draco's only hope for finding more information.

Tom Riddle kept a fastidious journal each day, accounting in careful details who he met, where he met them, and most importantly, what he learned. Tom Riddle was a boy with dangerous amounts of pride, and great ambition. Even in his early days he was making plans for power, forming alliances and keeping careful watch over his perceived enemies. However, one day the journal simply stopped. It wasn't an issue of running out of pages (the diary was enchanted to never run out of blank paper), but for whatever reason the diary ended abruptly after a detailed account of killing Hepzibah Smith to create the first horocrux.

More than ever, Draco was drawn in by the mystery of this and could not help but wonder what Tom Riddle had been up to in this time period. Whatever it was, it was clearly so secretive he dare not even write it down. But perhaps, he had been unable to keep from bragging to his friends... perhaps that was why they were being killed off now.

This thought did not come upon Draco easily. He had spent many dark nights following unsuspecting aurors down weaving alleys, trying to find out any little scrap of information. He had spent sleepless nights reading book after book looking for something that may help, trying not think about the blood that had stained the library floor just weeks before. And then there was the issue of controlling his fear, and the loneliness that ate at him day after day. Before his parents had died, he had read many books on learning to control one's mind and emotions. While many would find it hard to imagine, Draco had actually taken to meditating. It wasn't flawless, but Draco could push aside feelings of pride, petty jealousy and rage. He learned to control himself in a way that his own father had failed, and in those days that he walked around the Manor, stalked by ghosts, his training was more important than ever.

Riddle's diary offered very little insight, but there was one key thing it imparted on Draco. A little known fact about werewolf fangs. They could be used to create a sort of involuntary pensieve if extracted. The potion was complex, but nothing beyond his abilities. He went about rounding up the ingredients, and he made a plan to visit his old “friend” Fenrir Greyback in Azkaban.

His visit was undetected of course, and when he had what he wanted he was able to create the potion. Unlike a regular pensieve, you had to drink this potion to gain the memories. This was a most unpleasant experience, and for the first hour Draco experienced no memories but merely felt as though his insides were being torn apart. He had consumed the potion in front of his bedroom fireplace, and the pain was immediate. He fell to the cold marble floor, gasping for breath as fire spread through his insides. He was sure for some time that he had done it all wrong, and he would die there on the floor of Malfoy Manor just as his parents had. He envisioned the aurors coming and finding his cold body, and deciding that he was weak and had chosen suicide to end his pitiful existence.

Of course, he did not die. And after an hour of nearly longing for death, memories began to flutter through his head like hallucinations. There was no order to them, and it took all of Draco's newly acquired skills of not to feel like he was being torn apart. He was sharing one body but two lifetimes, and it was maddening. At times, Fenrir's memories would leap from Draco without warning, and he would feel the werewolf's emotions, or experience his physical senses. Draco was fortunately prepared for this side effect; Riddle had recorded them in his diary. Riddle had no particular reason for discussing the topic; it was more a matter of scholarly interest. Which was not that surprising when one considered that Riddle was an avid scholar of all things nasty and horrific.

Still, Draco made that critical mistake of looking up at the moon the night he had been caught. All of the memories came flooding to him of the moon's power and beauty, of transforming, of running free through the woods and tasting fresh blood from a still beating heart. The memories had caused Draco to howl, and he had been caught.

“And I would say that about brings us to now” Draco finished, stretching his legs as he rose to a standing position.

Harry thought about all that Draco had said, especially his theory on the Death Eater murders being connected to some secret from Riddle's past. Whoever was killing was merciless and powerful, and more than ever Harry felt afraid for Hermione's safety.

“I can teach you how to control your emotions, how to calm your mind” Draco continued in lieu of Harry's silence. He felt uncomfortable and unhappy at having shared such personal information with his lifelong rival, but he knew it would be the only way to convince him. “I am nearly positive that you have Riddle's memories in your mind, just like I have Greyback's in mine.”

“How is that possible?” Harry asked, seeing the logic in it but still not accepting it.

“I don't know Potter, maybe you should ask Granger. I'm not a walking, talking, know-it-all encyclopedia. All I know is that you sound exactly like him. I hear Tom Riddle speaking with Fenrir Greyback in my memories, and your voice became his when you spoke to me earlier, even your laugh sounded like his.”

“I feel his emotions at times. My anger becomes amplified by his rage, my love becomes tainted by his hate” as Harry said these things out loud, he realized Tom Riddle was in his mind. It made him want to smash his brains out against the wall. Again, he went to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach now.

“Maybe in the final battle, some part of him was imprinted onto you. But it only has as much control as you give it.”

“And you think you can teach me to control his memories from interfering with my life?”

“I do” Draco said plainly. “It's something like occlumency; it requires repelling your emotions but there is a bit of a different process to it since these aren't outside attacks-- they come from within.”

“Well, it didn't work out so well for you. I saw you howling like a bloody werewolf! No, I don't think you can help me.”

“I can, although it won't be easy. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like the way you drool over Granger. It's so cute the way you baby talk to her when she's in here sobbing over you like a little girl.” Harry said nothing. “Good, you're already learning to be in more control. But don't get all zen on me just yet Potter, I need you to break me out of here.”

“I'm guessing you won't teach me from inside these cells?” Harry said, his voice flat and humorless.

“Correct Potter, and there isn't a whole lot of time. Whoever is out there doing these killings is still around. Or, do you still think I'm the killer?”

“No, I don't trust you to be clever enough to come up with such a detailed story.” Harry had believed Malfoy long before that, but there was no reason to let ferret boy know. Furthermore, Draco had a valid point; time was probably running low of whatever was evil was stirring. “Let me ask you a question. Did you send Hermione that message?”

“What message?” Draco asked, sighing at how long it was taking Potter to come around. “Actually, let me clarify this. I have never sent Granger any messages in my life. So if you're worried about some love letter, it wasn't from me. It's not my style really, I'm more of a love `em leave `em sort of bloke...”

“It was a death threat” Harry interrupted, not sure why he was sharing this information. “Someone wants her to unseal the Death Eater files.”

“Then someone is still very actively seeking to kill Death Eaters” Draco said simply. “So many of us hid after the war, and those who found immunity are especially well hidden thanks to Hermione Granger sealing their documents. For those who were pardoned and who had their information sealed off, nobody will ever find them unless those documents become open. I suppose that's why my parents' murderer has only been able to hit some of the most obvious targets so far. The magical seal Granger used has kept the others protected, kept the killer from being able to find them.”

“I know how wizarding seals work thanks” Harry responded dryly.

“In many ways, Hermione Granger has become secret keeper to all the defected Death Eaters. Isn't that ironic?”

Harry had thought as much himself (usually with great agitation) but he did not care to share these thoughts with Draco. Hermione was committed to justice, despite the personal cost. And wasn't that one of the things he loved so much about her? She was a great person, and the best friend a man could ask for. And the thought of her still at risk...

“Okay, I will break us out” Harry finally conceded, earning a dramatic sigh of relief from Draco. “But there needs to be a way you can promise me you will help me control these memories I have from Riddle.”

“Yes, we need to make an unbreakable vow” Draco agreed, much to Harry's surprise. “I will promise to help you learn control, if you will vow not to kill me after you destroy everything around us.”

“I may not be able to regain control” Harry admitted.

“Then, if you kill me, you will also die. Hence the unbreakable vow. And I know you won't want to lose your own life. Even the Riddle part of you has interest in self preservation.”

Harry thought this made some sense. No matter how furious he was, he would not forget the vow, and would not break it. “Alright, let's do this. Only one small matter... no Bonder around to cast the vow.”

“It can be done in other ways” Draco said tentatively. “By blood for example.”

Harry squirmed at the idea of having Draco's blood touching his own, but at the same time he felt every moment they debated it was a moment they did not have to spare. He grabbed a piece of metal shrapnel from his previous destruction and pushed it down against the flesh of his palm until it bit in, bringing blood springing to the surface. Draco didn't have luxury of a sharp object, and so as he contemplated biting into himself, there was the sound of metal rattling outside of his prison bars. Harry had thrown him the same piece he used to cut himself. It was like a morbid token of good will.

“There's one other thing” Harry said as Draco drew his own blood. “You need to promise me that we will seek out whoever murdered your parents together.”

“Absolutely not!” Draco said, fury finding its way past his self-imposed calm.

“I don't like the idea of working with you at all” Harry clarified. “But as you said, fate is a bitch. We both have a similar agenda, and when we leave here we will both be fugitives. I will be considered a danger to society, and you will be considered guilty of murder. The only assets we will have will be from working together.”

“I don't need any assets of yours Potter” Draco hissed. “I figured far more out on my own than your sorry little auror brain could decipher.”

“You are also the only one we know of who has heard the killer speak. Maybe if you shared that information earlier, we could have already found the culprit.”

Draco pondered this as he watched the blood drip from the open wound on his hand. He did not expect Potter to want to join him in his very personal mission. He certainly didn't trust the thick-headed, overly confident Gryffindor. Especially now that he had shadows of Tom Riddle's memories bouncing around in his scarred noggin. Draco had planned to take Potter to one of the old Death Eater hideaways, to teach him to control his emotions, and then to split ways for good.

“This isn't about you for once Potter. You aren't coming with me.”

“We're going to keep running into each other either way. It doesn't mean I trust you in any way, or respect you, but that fact of the matter is I am not letting off this case. I won't stop searching until--” he stopped abruptly, not wanting to divulge any more personal information.

He needn't say more however. You won't stop until Granger is safe Draco thought with irritation, and something more, but he wouldn't address that just yet and pushed it to the back of his mind. An unbreakable vow would force them to stay by each others' side until the very end, something which he was quite sure Potter hadn't clearly thought out, and he voiced this major hole in the plan.

Harry was not deterred, despite Malfoy's wisdom. “I know; we will be stuck together. We won't have to trust each other; the vow will force us to stay on the same course without giving the other one away. Let's be honest, if we run into each other a month down the road, and we are still chasing the same shadows, what promise is there that we won't try to attack each other? You are a worm Malfoy, I've known it since we were children. But right now, I need to put keeping people safe before my dislike for you.”

“Of that famous Potter selflessness!” Draco laughed harshly. “How do you even stand living with how obnoxious you are!”

“Do this, or we both rot in prison together.”

Draco could not decide whether Potter was bluffing. All he knew was his hand was bleeding a bit more than he had planned for, and he could feel time slipping away from him as they continued to chat. He would figure out a way to get rid of Potter later. For now, he would need to give him what he wanted.

The two men reached their arms from the cells and stretched across the gap provided by the cement wall between them. They could just barely reach each other's hands, and when their hands finally did join it was with the disgusting dampness of slick blood.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my very life, that I will free Draco Malfoy from this prison, and I will not kill him afterwards. I vow that I will assist him in finding his parents' murderer, so that the truth of their mission will be unveiled and all others will be safe.”

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, vow on my very life, that I will instruct Harry Potter on the ancient arts of meditation and self control so that he will not grow insane with Tom Riddle's memories. I vow that I will not stop him from joining me on my quest to avenge my parents.”

Those weren't quite the words Harry was looking for, but it would have to do. He felt a sudden tightness between their hands as though they were being squeezed together by an invisible force, and while he couldn't see the bond be made he could feel a wave of magical energy pass through his body, and there was a sudden flash of light. Draco quickly retracted his hand, and Harry did the same, wrapping it in a piece of cloth he ripped off from his robe.

“Now for the fun part” Draco said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Ron had collected what felt like the 1,000th stack of incredibly heavy and horrifically dusty books to bring back to Hermione. However, when he rounded the corner of the bookshelves behind which she was sitting, he found that she had fallen fast asleep; her face firmly buried into the spine of a massive book entitled “Rare, Unusual, and Mostly Forgotten About Spells”. It wasn't a great surprise, neither of them had slept much the night before, and hours spent in the library did not lend to wakefulness.

Glancing at his watch he realized that it was already past midnight. He gently roused her from her sleep, laughing a bit as she had to peel a page away that had stuck to her face. As she came to her senses, there was a look of great alarm in her eyes. “How long have I slept? How much time have I lost?”

“Couldn't have been more than 15 minutes” he said soothingly, dropping the books heavily on the table and sitting beside her. “I was just getting those books you asked for and came back to find you snoring like Fluffy after a flute serenade.”

“I can't be wasting any time!” she practically squealed, throwing one book aside and grabbing eagerly at another.

“You need rest Hermione!” Ron interrupted, swiftly slamming the book closed again. “We both do.”

“Ron, there's not time for rest. If something happens and Harry loses it again, Shacklebolt will have to... have to stop him. And that's simply not an option. There is always a solution, we just need to be quick about finding it.”

As she spoke she avoided Ron's gaze, and there was a fearful tremble in her voice underneath the know-it-all attitude. He reached out and touched her shoulder and could feel the tension there. “I'm scared too Hermione” he said softly, and finally she looked at him and he could see the full-blown panic in her eyes.

“We can't lose him Ron, he's too important he's...”

“He's the best part of all of us” he said, finishing her sentence. “I know that better than anyone else. But if we don't rest, we will go insane ourselves. And then we can't stop Harry from going off the deep end.”

“He's not insane” she said briskly, brushing his hand from her shoulder. “There's something logical and fixable about this. He didn't just wake up one morning and decide `oh today is sure a good day to start acting like Tom Riddle'. Even if he was insane, he would never choose to be like him, no matter how bad things got.”

“I agree” Ron said, fatigue and agitation creeping into his voice. “He's nothing like Voldemort, and never could be. He's cursed, or poisoned, or whatever. But we've been here for hours, and we are no closer to finding a single solution!”

“So what, we go home and sleep?” she shrieked, incredulous. “Can you really sleep, knowing that he is locked behind bars with only Draco Malfoy for company, that he may not last another minute let alone another day?”

“You can't always protect him!” Ron blurted out before he could stop himself. She looked stricken, but he continued because it was too late to stop himself and he was tired to the point of delirious and confused, while simultaneously feeling sickened and scared. “Harry stopped letting us protect him a long time ago. To be honest, it's been years now since I've recognized the guy who used to be my best mate. Believe me, I don't want to lose him, even though I barely ever see him, it would be like losing a piece of myself to have him be gone forever. But we have faced the likelihood of his death a million times, and we have learned to be strong about it. We need to be strong now, not just for ourselves, but for him. Trust that he can last a bit longer while we figure this out. He's come back from the brink of death many times, he can come back from the brink of insanity too. We just need to trust him.”

Hermione bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and nodded. She was so tired that she could barely piece two thoughts together, but Ron was right. They would need to trust him to keep his strength until they could find a solution, and in the meantime they would need to keep up their strength as well. They got up to leave, simply letting the books lie on the table where they left them.

“You are wrong about one things though Ron” she said as they left.

“I'm sure I'm wrong about a lot of things Hermione.”

“Harry is still the same person we've always known. If you look close enough, you can see it. It's just that for him, the war never ended.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

After a short silence Draco Malfoy began to speak. “The war was a terrible time for all of us.”

This is not what Harry had expected him to say. Logically, Draco would have to make him angry to break down the prison walls, and so he had expected some predictable banter about how Harry's parents were dead, or how the Weasleys were scum, or how Albus Dumbledore deserved to die.

Draco continued. “When those snatchers caught you and brought you to the Manor, I recognized you of course. But I was so tired of it all. I hated feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. It was like everyone was pulling the strings to my life, and I had no control whatsoever. Believe it or not, I did not want Dumbledore to die. I had never really hated him. Disliked him, sure. He played favorites and he was a meddling old fool who talked in riddles and knew nothing of what it was like to barely grip onto control and live in dark hopelessness. But I didn't hate him. And having to watch him be killed by Severus Snape, that shook me you might say. Made me realize how real it all was. And I didn't like being a puppet or a pawn, and I guess that's why I lied to that crazy bitch Belletrix Lestrange and said I didn't recognize you.”

By now, Harry was extremely confused as to why Draco was being so forthcoming, and while he had no sympathy for Draco's plight, and still thought him a coward, the blonde man was becoming somehow more human to him. Later, Harry would realize it was a clever ploy, a method for setting him off balance and making him unprepared for the blind hatred and anger that would follow shortly thereafter.

“Call it an act of rebellion” Draco said, lazily pacing his cell as he spoke. “Understand it wasn't a sign of respect or concern for you, but simply accept I had my reasons, and as I said, the war was a terrible time for us all. But, it had its highlights. That same night I lied to Lestrange and saved your life I suppose, I also got to watch that insufferable know-it-all Granger get her comeuppance. You're probably thinking I'm just saying this to upset you, but I want to understand that every word I am saying is full honesty. And I have hated that bitch since I first met her.”

Harry stirred uncomfortably. He knew Draco needed to get him angry to make him lash out, but he was also a bit scared of what might happen. He bit back his natural defensiveness of his best friend, gripping his knees to tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“And let me clarify, this goes beyond my desire to hurt you Potter. No, my distaste for her is part of my very essence. It's not just that she's a mudblood, though that does truly turn the stomach. Families like mine are founded on tradition and that brings pride that she could never even begin to understand. Pride that she stomped on in her little charade of trying to seem important. And that night, seeing Belletrix Lestrange torture her with that knife, why it was one of the most vindicating things I have ever experienced. She cried, as I'm sure you know, and I just watched with the sort of fascination you feel when seeing something truly unique in life. Do you remember how she cried out?”

Harry didn't want to. It was one of those very dark moments in life that he had always tried to keep locked far, far away. He tried to block it out now, but there was some part of him being drawn to the story. Riddle.

“She kept carving `mudblood' in her arm, and it grew and grew each time. And it actually got a bit gory but you didn't see that part.”

Harry felt a sick smile spread across his face, and it was out of his control. “I remember the first time I met Belletrix Lestrange. She was truly a maniac, but it was a useful sort of madness that could be controlled. I could have her licking my boots if I wanted. She was a unique weapon, a perfect combination of loyalty and sadistic sociopath.”

Draco heard Tom Riddle's voice coming from Harry's cell, and he knew he was on track. “How do you feel Tom?” he asked.

“I feel rage. Deep, dark rage. I don't know where it's coming from, but it is a familiar passion and I quite enjoy it.”

“That's Harry Potter's anger.”

“All the better.”

“You can't control him you know. You're just a series of memories, you have no consciousness.”

“I need no consciousness. There's enough fury here to fuel us both.” the walls trembled now, as though a minor earthquake were happening. “He wants your blood Malfoy. Oh, it's a glorious feeling.”

“Whatever gets you off I guess” Malfoy muttered, becoming more than just a little anxious as pieces of the ceiling began to fall heavily from overhead, filling the room with dust. The loud wailing of the wards began, and Malfoy knew they only had moments before the aurors would be swarming the place.

What happened next rocked him from his feet. There was what could only be described as an explosion, and with a deafening cracking sound, the wall behind them shattered, exposing the night air. Draco lay amidst the rubble, his ears ringing, and tried to struggle to his feet. Need to apparate... move dammit he urged his body forward but the ringing in his ears had him dizzy now, and between the dark and mild concussion he seemed to be suffering, he could barely see when Harry Potter marched from the rubble, grabbed Draco by the shirt and dragged him into the cool darkness of the outdoors.

There was a loud POP and they were both gone.

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6. Chapter 6: The Deserter

Author's Note: Okay, so here is Chapter 6 and the mystery continues to grow. I promise answers will come along, and there will be more H/Hr scenes in the near future. Please bear with me for now, and keep the reviews coming! I love hearing your thoughts.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

CHAPTER 6: The Deserter

In a million years Hermione would never have believed this could happen. As she stood amongst the rubble, she felt as small and lost as she once had after the final battle, when walking on the blood stained remains of Hogwarts. She still could not believe that it was possible, despite the very graphic evidence to suggest otherwise.

He's a fugitive. A madman on the loose. He will be killed on sight.

After years of blood, sweat and many tears, the Boy Who Lived had finally hit his end, and he would be hunted like a convict. The hope that still dwelled in her that he may recover only worsened the sting of his absence, and as the light of dawn slowly revealed the destruction that surrounded her, she sank further and further from reality. There were aurors all around her, collecting evidence, speaking, taking notes... but she heard and saw nothing but the hole in the wall that Harry Potter had vanished through.

Eventually, there was a hand on her arm that tugged, refusing to be ignored. Slowly she heard her name being repeated, muffled at first and then rippling to the surface of her consciousness. She turned to see Ron standing there, looking at her with a mixture of fear and sadness. She looked flatly into his eyes and then pushed him with all her force.

Ron wasn't much of a match to her when it came to magic, but he was tall and had filled out, and even with all her force he barely stumbled back. A look of surprise spread across his features, and this only fueled her further and she pushed him again, a sound emerging from her that was a mixture of pain and fury.

“What happened to trusting him Ron? You said he would defeat this, and now he's gone, we've lost him!” as she kept lashing out at him Ron gained his wits and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so she couldn't shove him anymore. She struggled at first and then slumped in his arms. “We've lost him” she repeated, her voice broken and muffled against his chest.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy did not recognize where he was when he regained consciousness, but it was certainly ugly. Somebody has worse taste than a Weasley he thought as he rubbed his temples. The walls were a hideous pastel shade, and the curtains hanging from the windows looked like someone had eaten confetti and then vomited everywhere. He reminded himself to thank Potter for taking him to such a high-class hideout.

He was laying on a cheap carpet in what looked like a very gaudy parlor room. He stretched and carefully rose to his feet in spite of the loud and obnoxious protests his brain was offering. The house was silent, so he walked around trying to determine where he was. He peeked outside the window and instantly knew he was someplace very muggle based on the tidy green lawns and shiny automobiles. Draco knew little about muggle devices, but he wasn't entirely ignorant. Know thy enemy as Lucius always said.

He closed the curtains firmly and headed down the hallways past a small broom closet and into an empty kitchen. There was a noticeable lack of furniture, aside from a few odds and ends that had been left behind to collect dust. He hoisted himself onto the counter and sat there a few moments trying to let the pounding in his temples reside.

“How do you like the new place?” Harry asked, his footsteps echoing through the empty house as he approached.

“It's disgusting” Draco groaned.

“I quite agree” Harry said, with a strange grin. “No place quite like home.”

“You took us to your house Potter? You're dumber than you look, don't you think they'll find us here?” Draco leapt to his feet, pacing menacingly towards the dark haired man.

“Oh they won't look here. This hasn't been my home in many years, if it ever really was home.” Harry did not back down to Draco's menacing glare. This was the first time they had truly been face to face in many years, and Draco Malfoy looked changed. Like Harry, he had grown a bit taller after Hogwarts, and they both stood around the same height. Draco had always been slender, with an aristocratic complexion, and that was still very much the same. While Harry had been training for auror work for the past five years and grown wider with muscle and age, Draco was still quite wiry. But his face had changed; it had grown less sharp and pointed, and more chiseled and defined.

“So this is where you grew up?” Draco deduced after a beat. Harry merely nodded. “No wonder you're a tasteless sap.”

“We can't all be as refined as you Slytherins” Harry said, but there was no malice in his tone. He was too tired to bother sparring with Draco Malfoy, and besides, there were far worse things than Draco's snide jabs. Being back in this house spurred a plethora of terrible memories, but none terrible enough to block out the fact that he was a fugitive now. He had sprung his enemy from jail, destroyed the facility where he had worked for years and abandoned his friends, one of whom was still in great danger. Harry Potter felt very heavy indeed.

Draco sensed that it was fruitless to speak with Harry any further, so they both fell into uncomfortable silence for a while. Being face to face with the Boy Who Lived was making Draco's blood boil hotter than he had expected. Harry's face was a source of many miserable memories for Draco and he started to doubt sincerely how they would last without killing one another. But Draco hadn't spent all that time learning self-control for nothing, and so he slowly went through the meditative process of calming his mind.

In the meantime, Harry proceeded to wander aimlessly from room to room of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. He had thought it would be a good idea to come here. He knew from past inquiries that this house had not been sold. For some strange reason, many felt it was cursed or haunted. For Harry, it was both really. They would not stay here long, but it would provide familiar refuge and it would take a while before anyone would even think to look here. Of course, his friends had been there once or twice, each time an attempt to rescued him. It was unlikely they would suspect the prisoner would go back to his prison.

Harry stood outside the broom closet, contemplating having a peek inside when his thoughts were interrupted by Draco. “Okay Potter, we need an actual plan here. We haven't got any wands, any money, and anyone to communicate with. We are now cut off from all of our allies, and that includes your fan club. If they know where we are they will have to alert the aurors, and our little quest for freedom will be destroyed.”

Harry pondered this. It was still possible that they could go back, turn themselves in and explain everything that happened. They could get actual resources from the auror department, Draco could train Harry to control the phantom Tom Riddle memories from occurring, and they could seek who killed Draco's parents and threatened Hermione. But he did not voice any of this because as soon as he even thought it he knew it wasn't an intelligent plan. Draco would have to be held to the legal procedure, and so would Harry. Their case may span out weeks, even months, and they didn't have that sort of time. Furthermore, Harry had now proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not be safely controlled. Kingsley Shacklebolt would probably have to kill him on sight in the interest of protecting others, and Harry really couldn't blame him. Maybe they should have waited, tried to talk reason and gotten released normally. But procedures were procedures and Harry had been stung by the ministry enough times in the past to know that bureaucracy would not yield to him.

“Hermione and Ron would not notify anyone if I asked them to come and meet us somewhere. Alone.”

“Oh brilliant plan Potter. I'm sure your girlfriend who is under constant protection by the auror department won't be followed when she slips out in the dead of night.”

“Okay, well Ron then” Harry started, but he didn't need Draco to point out the fatal flaw in that plan. They were both at The Burrow, which was enveloped by extensive wards and flanked by packs of aurors. Harry was quite sure that they would also follow Hermione and Ron wherever they would go. He was quite sure because he had demanded it personally. “What else can we do? Do you have any friends I'm unaware of?”

This led Draco to suddenly remember the hot flames that had devoured Vincent Crabbe in the Room of Requirement, but he quickly shut this thought off. Crabbe had never really been his friend, more like an obedient dog that always followed him around. Until the end of course, when Crabbe had become completely seduced by the concept of power and lost control. “We will need to sneak into Malfoy Manor and get what we need.”

“Clever, given that it's bound to be under close watch” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Nobody knows the Manor the way I do. There are dozens of secret passages they won't be aware of. We can get in, get whatever money and supplies we need, and move on. But first, you need to learn a little self-control. We can't have you going all Tom Riddle if we're going to fulfill this fucking unbreakable vow. Though I'm starting to wonder if I'd rather die than work with you.”

“That makes two of us” Harry said snidely. Then they set to work.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Back at the Burrow Hermione felt like a prisoner. She had wanted to assist in the search for Harry, but naturally she had been denied given that she was still considered to be at great risk now that Draco Malfoy was free. Also because Harry is free she thought solemnly. Admittedly, Harry had lashed at her numerous times in his madness. If it was madness. She still could not believe that.

She felt utterly useless sitting by the fire in the Weasley kitchen sipping a cup of tea. How could she go from being by Harry's side in the war to being locked away in his greatest time of need? It seemed senseless. She needed a distraction, so she tried to use her intellect to put the pieces together in a logical manner. There were a few things that didn't make sense.

It was clear that Harry had lost control again, with such force that he blasted a hole in a heavily warded and very thick concrete wall. That alone seemed astonishing- wandless magic wasn't unheard of, but for a single consciousness to have such power was. Even more puzzling however, was why he hadn't gone after Draco. The aurors had found small traces of both of the boys' blood but not enough to suggest serious energy. There were drag marks of a body having been pulled from the wreckage of Draco's cell, which made even less sense. Had Harry taken Draco with him somewhere? If he was going to kill him, why not do it right then?

Too many questions with no obvious answers. There was still the question of where he could have possibly gone. Although she had been made to sit at home like a good little girl, she had insisted that updates be sent via owl on a regular basis. Surprisingly, O'Rourke had been the one to oblige her in this request. They had checked Hermione's home, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, Ron's flat and every inn and hotel in Diagon Alley. Of course, Harry had grown up muggle but they didn't expect he had enough self control to manage his use of magic in a muggle area, and there had been no alerts of magic being used in muggle zones.

There was a shuffling from the other room, and Hermione straightened up in her seat. Ron came into the room, having recently woken from a much-needed nap. He looked weary as he eyed her sitting there.

“I'm not mad at you” she said softly, before he could say anything. “I shouldn't have gone after you like I did. I was just really shaken. I thought we would have more time to help him.”

“He might still turn around... maybe he'll turn himself in.”

“And be contained where?” she asked, her voice breaking as he pulled a chair up beside her. “You heard Kingsley, Ron. They are going to have to k-kill him on sight. It hurts to hope, let's don't even discuss it.”

“I somehow doubt that the famously strong-willed Hermione Granger has resigned herself like this.”

“Listen... when you left while we were searching for the horocruxes, I thought my heart was broken.” Ron shifted uncomfortably. They rarely discussed their failed relationship. “Before you left, you made me feel that for the first time I was being seen for who I truly was, and I thought that there was romantic love between us. I felt beautiful around you, and witty and smart and powerful. And then you up and left and I was devastated. I felt like a fool- I was inconsolable. The worst part wasn't just missing you until it hurt to breathe, it was feeling like I didn't know myself. Like I wasn't that clever pretty girl you made me believe I was.”

“I'm sorry-” Ron started, but she stopped him with a raise of her hand.

“I'm not bringing up old wounds to hurt you. You came back, and we had our good moments and our bad, but you're still my best friend and I am grateful for that. Why I'm telling you this is to make you understand why I can't bare to hope, why doing so will destroy me when we finally hear that he is gone for good. As you said yourself- Harry isn't just a friend. He is the best part of us. And if he is gone, I won't exist anymore. At least, not the way I do now. And I need to prepare myself for that fact.

You said that Harry has changed, that he's barely recognizable and you're right. But not with me. When he comes home from his battles, no matter how bruised and scarred he is he comes to me. And I fix him, and I see him smile and laugh- almost the way he used to when we were children. Fixing him... being there for him... it has been my life since I was eleven, as it was yours. But you found an escape, and to be honest there's times I've almost envied you for it. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No” Ron said, feeling obnoxious little tears running down his cheeks. He swatted them away with the back of your hand. “Fighting alongside Harry felt both like the greatest honor and the heaviest burden. I never said it out loud because I didn't want to be thought a coward. But I feel like in the time we've known him, I've aged so many years. The money, the girls, the extravagant partying... I turned to that because I needed something light to lift me away from the suffocating feeling that comes with being part of the `Golden Trio'. But you... you stayed with him all this time, and your business at the ministry as well-- you said Harry's war never ended, but yours never did either.”

“It will if... when he dies. I can't go on without him. I don't know how to, and I'm too tired to care if that makes me weak and pathetic.”

“It doesn't. You have been the strongest person I've known, and if... when Harry is.... dead-- you deserve some peace. But I need to know something.”

“Yes?”

“Are you in love with him? I mean, romantically, did you fall in love with Harry Potter?”

Hermione paused a moment. Just days before she would have adamantly denied any romantic inclinations for her best friend, and she would have called Ron an utter moron. But now, sitting by the dying embers of the fire the question seemed to take on a whole new light. “I don't know if I ever loved him that way” she began. It felt weird to talk about him in past tense, but for now it was what she needed to do. She would pretend that he was already gone to avoid going mad with the nagging sensation of meritless hope. “I've been asked that question in the past more than I care to mention. Usually I would bite your head off, but I don't really know anymore. Maybe I don't really know what it's like to feel in love. I thought I was in love with you once, but now I suppose that was more about clinging together through fear, pain and adversity.”

“Well, I've been in love with you since we were at Hogwarts, and I don't doubt that.” She jumped slightly at Ron's response. It shocked her from the deep cycle of angst she had fallen into, drowsily staring into the red flicker of flames. “I know I'm in love with you and you're everything I've ever wanted. But I also know I could never be what you wanted, and that you would drive me insane.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Seriously. I could never keep up with you. You are brilliant and beautiful and aggressive and compassionate... but you never stop! It's like the wheels of that wonderful brain are always on overdrive, and I am a simple man with simple needs. I can be loyal, and I'd even dare say I can be courageous, but you are more than I can handle.”

“I'm more than most people can handle I'm sure” she sighed. She was falling back into her thoughts of Harry, but at least for a few glorious moments Ron had managed to distract her.

“Some people thought you and Harry were destined” Ron said slowly, not wanting to bring it back to Harry but unable to help himself. “But I never saw it. Whatever is... was between you was special, but I never saw anything that really suggested that sort of love.” That's not fully true he admitted in his mind. He recalled just a day ago when the two had sat so close together, Harry whispering into her ear through the bars of his prison cell. And in that moment, yes, he had wondered. The honest truth, when he really dug down to it, was that he did not want to think of his two friends that way. Hermione and he hadn't worked out, but some selfish, hidden part of Ron still liked to think of her as his, and liked to think that she could never belong to anyone else.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry would never, in a thousand years, have imagined this scenario. He and Draco Malfoy had taken two of his Petunia Dursely's ugly flower spotted couch cushions, banged out the dust, laid them on the floor of Dudley's old (and otherwise barren) bedroom, and there they sat cross legged, eyes closed, trying the meditate.

Well, Draco wasn't trying. He was succeeding. It was Harry who felt foolish and had no idea what he was doing. They had been at it for hours, and Harry was uncomfortable, restless and bored. Somehow, although Draco had his eyes closed and he looked very peaceful, he noticed every time Harry shifted, sighed, or opened his eyes to peek.

“Focus Potter” he would say, barely moving his lips. Draco had instructed him to try to relax, to focus on just his breathing, and to maintain, even measured breaths. He had told him that naturally thoughts would pop into his mind (“I suppose that even you have occasional thoughts Potter”), but to push those thoughts gently away.

Well, it wasn't working. Harry's mind was racing, and every little pinch or pain, every itch or cramp became more noticeable than ever. Needless to say, Harry did not reach any sort of zen on that first day.

And so, they went on to a second day, with about the same outcome. Only on the second day, Harry was growing intensely hungry, and with hunger came irritability. Draco, wise to the fact that an irritable Harry was likely to bring out a potentially vicious Tom Riddle reaction, stopped the meditation and suggested they find something to eat.

Without a word, Harry simply stood up and walked out of the room and straight out the front door of the house. Uncertain about the safety of following, Draco stayed put. Maybe he finally went off the deep end and will go on a Muggle killing spree and get picked off by the aurors and I'll finally be free of this Unbreakable fucking oath.

Harry returned however, and with him he carried a loaf of bread and a few cans of soup. They discovered some rusty tools left in the basement and pried the cans open, and for supper they dined on cold soup eaten with slices of bread. It was hardly the fine dining Draco Malfoy had grown up accustomed to, but he was so hungry he could hardly complain.

“Where did you find this Potter?” he asked, using a last bit of bread to scoop out a bit of broth from the bottom of his can.

“Soup kitchen” Harry shrugged. Draco had no idea what this meant, and stared at Harry through slitted eyes, trying to determine if he was, proverbially, fucking with him. Harry seemed to notice Draco's confusion and smiled slightly in spite of himself. “They're places where homeless can find something eat.”

“Ugh, just let them starve” Draco responded, chucking his empty can into the corner of room. It could only improve the decor in his opinion. “Survival of the fittest.”

“Yes Malfoy, it was fitness, not wealth that paid for your meals growing up.”

“And what do you know about it Potter? This house may be no Malfoy Manner but I highly doubt you grew up getting in line at these kitchen soup places.”

Harry refrained from the desire to correct his snobby accomplice. “I did get food from there often, that's how I knew where to find it. The Dursleys were my relatives, but only by blood. I had to hoard food from time to time to keep from starving under the rule of my obese cousin.”

Draco didn't know what to say to that. He hardly cared, and he certainly didn't pity Harry. He was mostly just surprised; he had pictured Harry Potter coming out of the womb with a golden halo around his head and teams of adoring fans. Like all who grew up in the wizard world, Draco knew Harry's parents had been killed when he was one. But Draco assumed he had gone on to some other sappy, hand holding, loving family.

On day three, Harry found it becoming easier to push away various thoughts as they arose. He was able to sit still for much longer, and he began to find a bit of peace and control his breathing. But it wasn't until over a week that Harry could quickly and comfortably clear his mind.

During that time, Draco mostly avoided Harry. Except when they were meditating they slept in different rooms, and preoccupied themselves on opposite ends of the house. Harry did not protest to this separation-- he did not want to spend any more time with Draco than absolutely necessary. He still felt Draco was a disease, and that if he spent too much time around him he may become infected. Aside from the second day, they did not even eat in the other's presence. Harry would collect food every afternoon, and they would split it and go back to their separate spaces.

When the time finally came that Harry could meditate successfully, Draco cheerfully announced “Now for the hard part!”

“You need to be able to get into that state of blankness instantly whenever you feel a particularly strong emotion. This is the key to self-control. No matter how, scared, angry or depressed you are, you need to be able to push away that feeling; expel it from your mind.”

They started with happiness, which Draco claimed was much easier to control and Harry imagined he was right. They resumed their positions in Dudley's old room, and once Harry was comfortable, Draco asked him to explain the happiest moment of his life in detail.

This was very personal and quite uncomfortable, but Draco had made it clear that if Harry did not give it his all, he would never learn. He searched his memory for a while, recalling obvious things like meeting Ron and Hermione on the train, winning the Quidditch cup, his first kiss with Ginny, his first time making love (again, with Ginny)... but there was one memory that stood out sharply and suddenly in his mind. “My happiest moment was watching Sirius fly away on Buckbeak.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn't feel alone for the first time in a long time. Sirius was free, and he would be out there, watching over me. I had Hermione by my side, and I felt loved in a way I hadn't before. She had traveled through time with me, and I knew she would do anything for me.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“It was like a warm sensation somewhere in my stomach. Incredible happiness, and although there was still so much danger out there, I felt for the first time like I'd really be alright, like I had a family. Like I was important to people.”

“Feel that now, try to be back in that place, at that exact time. Try to see it all again, and to feel it all again.”

Surprisingly, Harry was quickly able to do so. He could nearly feel the cool night breeze on his face as he tilted his head up to the moonlight and watched his Godfather soar through the sky on the magnificent hippogriff. He remembered feeling a beautiful and poignant sense of hope; his insecurities about being wanted after years of abuse disappeared for a moment in time. Hermione was close by his side, watching Sirius go, and as she wrapped her hand in his, he felt a tug somewhere in him. This powerful emotion had caused him to look away from the sky and down to her face. In the pale moonlight she looked quite beautiful, and even though they were still very young that was the exact word that came to mind. Not cute, not pretty, but beautiful. It gave him a strange sense of pride then, knowing she was his friend, and that with all her intellect and beauty she would still choose to stand by HIS side. It was the first time in his memory that he could actually feel love, like electricity running through his body. And it was the greatest feeling he had ever known.

“Now, push it away!” Draco yelled, cutting through Harry's reverie. Harry felt confused as to what push it away meant, and to complicate matters, he liked the memory he was experiencing. It felt like he was indulging in something sweet and satisfying.

“Get rid of all those thoughts, and go to nothing!” Draco repeated, this time louder.

It wasn't quick. Harry tried to stop thinking about those images, those feelings, that night. But after a few minutes, he was back to the blank darkness of meditation.

“Good” said Draco, sounding tired. “Now let's do that about a thousand more times, and then we can try with something more powerful-- anger.”

Another week passed before Draco really felt ready to test Harry's progress. If Harry's magic went off, they would have to move on right away or else they would be detected. He started with small things, mostly poking fun at Harry's scar, or dissing the Weasley family. Yet as he moved up, Harry found that it became increasingly easy to block him out. He would feel that sense of rage bubble up in him, and he would feel echoes of Voldemort's memories. He would see flashes of blood stained rooms, hear screams, sense a rush of adrenaline. But he could push his own anger away, and as soon as it was gone, nothing from Tom Riddle/ Voldemort's past was able to emerge. He no longer needed to be in meditation to deflect these comments- he could find that perfect stillness with the snap of a finger. It was like turning something off inside him.

Then one day, Draco finally announced that they were done. “But I haven't been really tested” Harry admitted. While he felt anxious that they had already wasted enough time while the danger remained out there, he did not want to lose control at a bad moment and lose everything. “I mean, I can put up with your typical rants on how I suck and all, I can even ignore your comments on losing people I cared about. But what about when something happens that really infuriates me? Like someone attacking me, or attacking someone important to met, or seeing innocent people get hurt...”

“Then God help whoever is in your general vicinity” Draco scowled. He could tell from Harry's expression that he was not amused. “Listen Potter, this only goes so far. Clearly, you can tell that I don't have it all under control 100% of the time myself.”

“Well what good is it then?!” Harry burst out, trying to steady himself.

“You're better off than you were before” Draco reminded him. “Now, it's time to break into Malfoy Manor.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

It had been over two weeks since Harry had escaped and there had been no sight of him or Draco Malfoy. Hermione continued to try to force herself to think that Harry was already gone, so she wouldn't be tormented by the hope that maybe he was okay somewhere. Or worse yet, alone and hurt and needing her. She paced the Burrow, and tried to bury her mind in work brought over from the ministry, but nothing was helping.

She could hardly eat. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares of Harry's casket. She was becoming sickly, but she refused all medical attention. But then, on the 16th night of Harry's absence, her mail was brought to her from her now empty house. In it, was a muggle postmarked letter with no return address, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

“Hermione-- I am so sorry for whatever I am putting you through. I am okay. Not cured, but better. I am going to keep searching for whoever sent that death threat against you. I am sure it is the same person/people who have been killing the Death Eaters. None of it makes much sense, but it can't mean anything good. I would ask you to please not come look for me, but I know that's unlikely. Know that if you trace this letter's origin, I have already left. I hope you are alright. I think of everything I've done to you, and I hate myself. I hope when we see each other again, you will not hate me also. Please tell Ron and the Weasleys I am sorry-- it has to be this way for now but I will clear my name once it is certain I am not a danger. Stay safe, be smart. Love--- Harry.”

Quickly, cast a spell over the paper and when the ink rearranged itself, it revealed his location and she nearly laughed at the stupidity of it all. Of course, he went to one of the only places he would think to go: 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging.

“How didn't that occur to me?” she said out loud, and while she felt she out should be angry with him (and there was a bit of that) there was a huge swelling sense of relief, and she almost laughed. Harry's home growing up had been so seldom discussed, and was so clearly a dark point in his past she would never have imagined he would go there. But he had only lived in a few places, and it made sense that nobody would think to look for him there. This logic meant that he was in sound mind- he was not insane. Not cured, but better she repeated the words through her mind, and for the first time in over two weeks, she allowed herself to hope.

She needed to get to him, but she couldn't trust he would be safe if she was followed. Harry was on a “kill on sight” proclamation due to his handiwork at the prison, and she needed someone she could trust. Which oddly, led to her to Caitlin O'Rourke.

When O'Rourke finally responded to Hermione's summons, she found Hermione pacing restlessly in the sitting room on The Burrow. “What are you summonsing me for Granger?” she asked irritably. “I'm not your pet.”

Hermione stopped pacing and looked squarely at the tall, wispy red head whose scowl somehow made her look even more attractive. O'Rourke looked tired, but still quite composed as she crossed her arms angrily across her chest, and struck a pose of annoyance and defiance. Still, she had come.

Hermione sucked in a long breath, still trying to decide if she trusted the auror who had once been Harry's lover. Deciding she had no other choice, she spoke. “I know where Harry is. Or was. According to him, he has already left.”

“Brilliant, and why haven't you informed Shacklebolt? We've been running all over the UK trying to find the damn Boy Who Lived, I have hardly caught five solid minutes of sleep, and meanwhile you're what, his pen pal?”

“I just found out moments ago. He wrote me via muggle mail to tell me he's alright, he's not cured but he's better. Whatever that means. I need to go and see if he's still there.”

“I doubt it, Potter was an auror for years. He's well on his way by now. If he really is sane, we'll never find him if he doesn't want to be found. You know it as well as I do.” O'Rourke's tone was sharp, but there was a slight sag of relief in her shoulders as she mentioned the potential of him being sane. “We need to report this to the Kingsley Shacklebolt so he can send a team to the location to investigate.”

“Kingsley has issued a decree that he be killed on site to prevent endangering the lives of others. You know that quite well, and he will uphold that decree despite how much he doesn't want to.”

“It's protocol; Potter has demonstrated power that nobody can begin to pretend to understand, and he's a risk. We couldn't even contain him if we wanted to, he proved that quite thoroughly.”

“I understand” Hermione nodded. “But I know you won't uphold it. You can call him `Potter' all you want, but let's be honest; if you see him will you be able to end his life? You're still in love with him.”

O'Rourke stiffened at this but did not deny it. “So, what are you trying to ask here?”

“I can't leave the bloody house without being followed” Hermione said, exasperated. “I need you to say you are escorting me to, I don't know, get my nails done or something. If they think you are with me, I won't be followed.”

“Fine then, but I'm going with you” O'Rourke demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“Me too” said a voice from the other room, and Ron Weasley came striding in.

“Way to eavesdrop” O'Rourke said grumpily. She was wondering how much the pesky red head had heard, and if he knew about her being in love with Harry and all that personal and uncomfortable business.

“You should have come and told me straight off” he said to Hermione with grim frustration.

“I was going to, I was just getting ahead of myself.”

“Alright, whatever then. When will be off?”

“I need to put in a word to the department” O'Rourke announced. “Then we should be able to head out. Where will we be apparating to might I ask?”

“4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging” Hermione responded, and her and Ron exchanged a look that O'Rourke couldn't quite read (despite her highly acclaimed skills of perception).

Although Ron and Hermione had only been to 4 Privet Drive very briefly, it was not hard to focus on the ugly decor and recall the house in detail. With a loud POP they pulled O'Rourke through with them, and the three arrived in a very quiet and very dark house. Quickly they drew their wands and split up to search the place.

Hermione could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she crept from room to room. O'Rourke was right, Harry was long gone in all likelihood, but that not stop her from hoping. For so many days Hermione had tried to repress hope, to keep it secret and contained, but now it soared from her uncontrollably. But after a quick sweep of the house, all there was to be found was a pile of empty tin cans tossed around and a few pillows and blankets.

“Don't touch anything” O'Rourke said, sounding tired and exasperated. “Since he's not here I think it's safe to call in an investigative squad to tell us what they can about what Harry was doing here. You'll both need to leave or else I'll be in deep trouble. I'll tell them you gave me the lead though.”

Hermione's shoulders slumped. Although she knew it was a far stretch that they would get there and find Harry sitting in front of the telly eating buttered toast she couldn't help but hope to see him. Still, the logical portion of her mind knew she ought to be thankful for what they had discovered. There was no real damage done (besides the mess), so clearly he had been in control of his magic, and he had been able to feed himself. There was nothing to suggest injury or illness, which meant he was okay. He was okay, and that would have to be enough for now.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry's clothes were so dirty they felt stiff against his skin. He judged that Malfoy felt much the same by the way he scratched irritably at his skin. They were crouched at the edge of a forest, looking up towards Malfoy Manor looming against the darkening sky.

“Once it's dark we'll run for that rock” Draco said, pointing to a large grey boulder.

“Great strategy” Harry sighed with heavy sarcasm. “Got a plan for after that?”

“Shut up Potter, and watch.”

As soon as Draco deemed it dark enough the two young men ran across the open ground, staying close to the ground. Earlier they had counted four aurors circling the manor on watch. When they reached the boulder, Draco ran his hands frantically about the surface as though searching for something.

“Had enough of groping the rock?” Harry asked after several moments had passed. With a quick look up towards the Manor he could make out the shadowy form of an auror out taking yet another lap of the property.

Draco ignored his impatient accomplice and finally his fingers ran across a raised form on the rock. The serpent Draco thought, smiling inwardly. It was nice to be near something familiar after the past few weeks had been so miserable. Even in the dark he recognized the familiar shape of the serpent's body, which was engraved into the rock. He pressed it and the rock slowly began to move, revealing a staircase going underground. Quickly they scampered down the steps, and the rock soundlessly slid closed behind them, submerging them in total darkness.

“Welcome back to Malfoy Manor” Draco said as he felt for the wall. He felt Harry grab the back of his shirt, and he nearly shook him off, contemplating leaving him to die in the darkness. But that wouldn't be in keeping with what was now officially in his mind, the Unbreakable Fucking Vow. So he allowed Potter to claw onto his shirt despite how much it made his skin crawl. There were an almost obscene number of cobwebs in this particular tunnel, and in the silence they could hear the scuttling of rats. Fortunately, Draco had a clear map of the tunnel in his mind, and so he ran his hand along the rough stonewalls, Potter following like a dog on a leash.

When they neared the dungeon there was finally enough light to see and Harry abruptly let go of Draco. If his clothes seemed gross before he was now covered from head to toe in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs (and a few spiders which he brushed away). Once he was done fussing with removing all insects from his clothing, he looked around the dungeon in awe. He had been locked up in Malfoy Manor once, but apparently that was only a “holding cell” compared with what existed at these depths. It was something like the vaults at Gringotts, with towering ceilings and stalactites with sharp looking points hanging far above their heads.

It seemed that all Slytherins felt potions labs belonged in dungeons as Draco had quite the laboratory setup. Harry had never been a whizz with potions, but he knew enough from his Advanced Potions course to appreciate the cost and value of the equipment here. He could also tell it was quite new. “Been busy Malfoy?”

“Shut up much Potter?” Draco responded as Harry Harry went off to wander a bit. He needed to brew up a very complex potion to deal with the aurors overhead, and he was glad that the raven-haired blabbermouth was trailing off and giving him some peace.

Harry for his part, felt both fascinated by the Manor and horrified. This had been the place where he, Ron and Luna had been held captive, where Hermione had been tortured, and where Dobby had died. That time felt so long ago now; like lifetimes had passed but very little had changed. Everyone he loved was still at risk, he was still struggling to survive and he had little to show for it all.

As Harry paced around musing about his life (or lack thereof), Draco was quickly contacting a potion called “Mist of Slumber” which was exactly what it sounded like. It was a pearl white concoction that when released would expel a massive fog-like cloud which would flood the entire manor and the grounds beyond. When inhaled, it would send the aurors into a deep sleep, which would last for approximately two hours. It was very tricky to brew, and could be lethal if done wrong, but Draco was quite certain of his skills. While he hated having the do-good aurors snooping around his family's prestigious property, he did not want to add their murder to his criminal record.

The potion took an hour to brew, and quite to Draco's delight Harry did not bother him once to inquire about what he was doing. Once he had carefully siphoned the white liquid into a vial, he plugged it soundly with a rubber stopper and then told Harry to head back into the tunnel. If Harry thought this request was strange he didn't indicate so. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, something which Draco equally cared nothing about.

Draco ascended the stairs to Malfoy Manor from the dungeon, once more thinking of the chilling tale of the young Malfoy wife who had been hurled to her death. There's no place like home Draco thought with grim fascination. He kicked the door open, not caring if he was seen or heard, and flung the vial against the nearest wall which was adorned with a covered portrait that screamed from behind its dark veil as the potion spattered about. Draco knew better than to wait around to watch the sleepy white cloud form, and he turned sharply on his heel and sprinted down the stairs. Normally he tried to take his time navigating the exceptionally sharp and uneven stone steps (he didn't need to end the Malfoy family line by breaking his neck), but he didn't have time. Luckily, years of Quidditch has made him rather graceful, and he was also sure footed. He rushed towards the tunnel where Harry was lazily slumped against the wall, and he slammed a heavy wood door tightly behind them.

“This should keep it out until the fog dissipates in the next ten minutes. But just in case... hold your breath.”

Again, if Harry thought this was odd he didn't say so. Nor did he counter the improbability of holding his breath for 10 minutes. They simply stood there in silence, and when the time had passed Draco pushed open the doors with a sigh and gleefully announced “finally I can take a bloody shower!”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

O'Rourke was tired. No more than simply tired, she was completely knackered. She felt irritable and confused, and while irritability was an emotion she was very much used to, confusion was something she was not designed for. She was always confident, poised and self-assured. She didn't like this love nonsense, if that's what it even was. And she really didn't like this worrying nonsense.

She wanted to go home and sleep for days. No, strike that. She wanted to go home, drink her weight in those delicious Singing Mermaid concoctions that Hermione had introduced her to, and THEN sleep for days. But first she needed to relay what the investigative team had uncovered at 4 Privet Drive. She wasn't sure why she was bothering. While she had learned to respect Hermione Granger a bit more, she by no means liked the brunette know-it-all. It was ludicrous that half of the auror team was being stationed as personal bodyguards to a low-level ministry worker. True she was a war hero, and true she was BFFs with the Boy Who Lived, but she wasn't the bloody queen. And then there was Weasley-- the wannabe playboy businessman who would probably be fat and bald in a few years, still living off of the success of Harry Potter.

Nevertheless, O'Rourke knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she spoke with them both. So she found herself at the Burrow once more, standing before a determined looking Hermione and a dumb-as-ever looking Ronald with his mouth hanging wide open. Hermione was looking at her with such open eagerness that it was almost disgusting. Yeah, you never slept with Harry... what utter bullshit. Can't believe I fell for that old denial routine.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Ron asked slowly, and O'Rourke was suddenly aware that in her delirious fatigue she was simply staring at Hermione angrily, tapping her foot and not speaking.

“Oh yes” she began, uncharacteristically flustered. “The investigative team determined that they were at Privet Drive the entire time since they broke free.”

“They?” Ron and Hermione repeated in unison.

O'Rourke blinked. “Yes, they were able to determine that Draco Malfoy was there as well. They found a strand of his hair.” There was a long silence.

“BLOODY HELL!” Ron yelled so loudly that both girls jumped. “The world really has gone insane now! Harry Potter has run off with Draco-fucking-Malfoy?”

“I don't think that's actually his middle name” O'Rourke pointed out, but Ron's rant continued.

“What, are they on a lover's tryst? I mean, Draco FUCKING Malfoy? Harry must be really off his rocker if he's shacking up with that traitorous, deranged, cowardly FERRET of a man! I know Harry said that Draco is innocent of the killings and the death threat and all that, but now can we even trust Harry? Do we even know who he is anymore--”

“RONALD WEASLEY!” Hermione finally shouted, cutting him off. “Enough is enough! I am just as shocked and confused as you are. I believed Harry when he said Draco is innocent and he must be if Harry has... has teamed up with him.”

“TEAMED UP with him eh? Teamed up with a bloody Slytherin Death Eater? Teamed up with a guy who used to play for the same team that killed my brother? Do you even hear what you're saying?”

“It would seem they did `team up'” O'Rourke interjected, using the term with great distaste. “There was no signs of struggle or violence, in fact they both ate Muggle food which indicates that Harry was feeding Draco during the time they were there. There was also no use of magic, which suggests that things were reasonably peaceful between the two of them. If there's one thing we know about Harry's condition it's that excitability sets him off. He was in control the entire time from what we can tell.”

“So Harry broke Malfoy out of prison, gave him a house and FED him?” Ron blurted out. “Well, I hope he enjoys his new pet ferret because I will never speak with that bastard again.”

“Ron!” Hermione called out, but it was too late. He had turned and left the room, running up the stairs to his childhood bedroom.

“Drama drama” O'Rourke yawned. “I don't know what Harry is doing with Draco Malfoy, nobody does. But if he has gone this long without having another `episode' then that suggests that they're helping each other in some way.”

“I think you're right” Hermione said, worriedly biting her lip as she still looked at the empty spot where Ron had just been standing. “But I am worried about what sort of deal Harry would have to make to get any sort of help from Draco Malfoy.”

Long after O'Rourke had left, and Ron had refused to open his bedroom door, Hermione had found her way to sleeplessly lying under her covers. As she struggled to find sleep she found herself still wondering if Harry Potter had sold his soul to the devil.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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7. Chapter 7: Sympathy for the Devil

Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while since the last update… holiday madness! Thanks a million to all of you who review- I appreciate all comments; praise and constructive criticism alike. This is a rather long chapter, hope you enjoy and please keep the reviews coming!

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CHAPTER 7: Sympathy for the Devil

Hot water had never felt so good. Harry knew they didn't have much time before the aurors would wake up and he and Draco would need to be gone before that point. He also knew there was a lot to be done in that short time span, and much to be sorted out. Still, after weeks of sleeping on the floor without a proper change of clothes, the hot water felt too miraculous against his skin to pull himself away.

When he finally did step out of the shower, the bathroom was quite steamy. In his brief imprisonment at Malfoy Manor, Harry had really only seen the filthy chambers where he was locked up. The rest of the house was of a whole other caliber unlike anything Harry had ever seen. It was both ancient like Hogwarts, with grey stonewalls, but also sleek and elegant like something he had seen in a photo of a millionaire's mansion he had found in a magazine that had been discarded by Aunt Petunia. The Manor had gleaming marble floors in some rooms; lavish polished wood in others, endless corridors adorned with portraits that mumbled muffled words from behind silk coverings, and if there was one thing to generally be said, the detail of every ornament, etching, statue and piece of furniture was beyond immaculate.

Even the bathroom he stood dripping in was massive with a tub the size of a small pool and a sink big enough to bathe in. Over the sink was a large rectangular mirror framed by silver serpents, which overlapped each other in intricate knots and weaving circles. Harry cleared the steam from the mirror with his hands so he could get a proper look at his reflection, and had it not been for the familiar emerald green eyes glaring back he would not have recognized himself. In the past couple weeks his hair had grown a bit longer than he usually wore it, and he had a bit of a beard appearing as well. He decided to do away with it all, and using the wand he had nicked from one of the snoring aurors he shaved his head and face both, until his lightning bolt scar was left staring out starkly from his forehead. Normally he tried hard to cover it, but why bother now. He was recognizable to the whole world, and if he got seen an autograph request would be the least of his worries.

The familiar jagged line on his forehead wasn't the only scar in the collection these days. There were the scars from the war, and those from before that. And more than anything there were those scars, which came after the war; from his days as an auror, chasing evil through dark alleyways and sometimes paying the price. He ran his fingers over an especially pronounced wound on his torso. This one had caused Hermione to become quite upset with him as he recalled. He had bled all over her house, and yet again they had argued about his job and what it was doing to him. Right now he wished he had listened. He had never told her how truly close a call it had been that day. If she hadn't kept the self-healing potions stashed in the medicine cabinet for him he certainly would have died.

Draco had vaguely noted that Harry might as well help himself to the finding some clean clothes to wear (“so your stench doesn't give us away Potter”) and so once Harry had dried off he dressed himself in an ensemble of black, black and more black. It seemed to be the only color that the Malfoys owned. The outfit was simple enough; slacks with a belt, sturdy leather boots and a long sleeved v-neck t-shirt that fit surprisingly well. When Harry found Draco afterwards, Draco's outfit was an entirely different matter.

Draco was dressed to kill in the most literal sense. Unlike Harry's militant approach of shaving his entire head, Draco clearly had some skill for carefully cutting his precious platinum hair. It was carefully combed and looked tidy and well groomed. But it wasn't Draco's stylish hair-do that surprised Harry. It was that the Slytherin was wearing a strange suit of armor complete with an array of flashy and deadly looking weapons.

“What ARE you wearing?”

“Showing your ignorance again Potter” Draco replied smugly. “Dragonhide armor was worn in ancient times of battle as it deflects many spells and curses.”

“Why doesn't anyone still wear it then?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Because it's incredibly expensive. Dragons are rare, and the art of making dragonhide armor is long lost. This particular suit you are seeing has been in the Malfoy family for hundreds of year.” Draco's old familiar boastful drawl was becoming prevalent again and it nearly made Harry gag. “This one fits me quite perfectly, and when I saw it in the armory I thought why not? Whoever has been on this killing spree is using a very strange and undetermined form of magic. I'd think that a little extra protection can't hurt.”

“If only your parents had that same philosophy when they shagged the world could have been spared you!” Harry quipped, and while Draco wanted to be wounded by it (and he did pull off a convincing scowl) he found that it was a bit funny, and uncharacteristically witty for Potter, who was by all other accounts as charming and intelligent as a Mountain Troll. “You mentioned an armory?”

“Yes, the Malfoy family wouldn't have lasted as long as we did if it weren't for a collection of especially nasty devices and weapons.”

“Can I... see it?” Harry asked.

“I'm not letting you lay hands on any of the items” Draco said, showing Harry through a large set of double doors and into a room with a dome roof and rows and rows of weaponry.

Harry had never been one for fighting and bloodshed. It had been thrust upon him since childhood, but he never adopted a sense of pleasure from his work. It was simply about fighting for survival out of necessity. Still, he was more than a bit wowed by the Malfoy Manor weapon cache.

“How didn't these get confiscated from you after the war?”

“This room is invisible unless it's shown to you by one of Malfoy blood. You stupid aurors had no idea it was here. The lame revealing charms you used missed quite a few things.”

“Apparently” Harry muttered, making a mental note that if life ever went back to normal (and that was becoming an increasingly distant prospect) he would need to discuss these matters with the auror department at length. “Why did you show me this room if you're not going to let me take anything?”

Draco sighed. Truthfully, while Draco had learned to become a much better master of his fear and hatred, he was still a show off at heart. He had shown Harry just to see the stupid look of wow on his face as he beheld the incredible heritage that was the Malfoy lineage. Now he somewhat regretted his lack of humility. “Potter, many of these items are ancient. Each one of them has a history that you couldn't even hope to wrap your infantile mind around, each has a legacy of blood honor. Letting you use these would be like a slap in the face to my ancestors.”

“Well, I was just bathing nude in your ancestors' sacred tub, and then a dried myself off with a Malfoy crested towel, after which I quite literally got into your pants. Oh, and did I mention I killed Voldemort? Sorry to say Malfoy, I think your ancestors are already rolling in their graves.”

Draco pictured smashing Harry's face in repeatedly with a large mace that was only a few steps away from being handy. Then he pictured pulling the sword from his back and stabbing Potter through the mouth, effectively shutting him up for good. But there was the Unbreakable Fucking Vow, and so instead of all that delightful bloodshed, Draco pushed his aggression away from thought. “I'm not sharing.”

“Fine” Harry responded as he wandered the aisles. “I suppose with the armor being so rare and all that's got to be one of the only suits left in the world.”

There was a glint in Draco's eye, and once again his boastful nature got the best of him. “The Malfoy family owns a half dozen.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

A week passed since Harry's letter had arrived, and there had been no additional communication. Shortly after discovering Privet Drive abandoned, there was news from the aurors staked at Malfoy Manor that they had been attacked. None were hurt, they had simply been put to sleep by a very cleverly concocted Mist of Slumber potion. Two were missing their wands, but nothing else had been stolen. The auror investigative team was able to determine that both Draco and Harry had been present, that they had taken time to bathe in separate wings of the house, and that they had taken some food. Aside from that, there was nothing missing from the inventory that had been done of the Manor beforehand.

Hermione was able to determine a few critical facts from this otherwise vague discovery. Harry and Draco were certainly working together-- Harry never would have been able to create the complicated and possibly lethal Mist of Slumber. Now that their alliance was obvious, she could do nothing more than wonder why. If Harry was truly insane and evil it would make sense that he might team up with Draco Malfoy, that they might have some common sadistic goal. But they had not hurt the aurors, and there had been no indication that Harry was not in control of himself. Since his escape from the prison there had not been a single unusual spike in magical activity.

She had to keep reminding herself that while it was all perplexing, it was also actually quite good news. Somehow Harry appeared to be in control of himself, which meant whatever he was up to was probably very important. Additionally, knowing him the way she did and based on the content of his letter she was quite certain that he was still trying to protect her. He couldn't turn himself in even if he wasn't afraid of being killed, because he would be locked up and examined for weeks before he could get back to what he did best. Fighting evil. She wished there was a way he could come back to her though. She was still essentially a prisoner hiding behind the wards at the Burrow, and it was quite exhausting. There had been no further indication that she was still at risk, but there were also no further developments in resolving the question of who had threatened her and killed the auror at her house. It was driving her mad knowing that Harry was most likely out there trying to solve the great mystery and most likely in danger, while she was sitting around like a damsel in distress. She didn't like it one bit.

Then, there was another difficult factor, which was the Ron Weasley Factor. Hermione had tried to explain to Ron that she was sure Harry was doing the right thing. Ron simply could not believe that the right thing would ever involve Draco Malfoy, and the more she tried to convince him the angrier he became. Ron had not left the Burrow, but he avoided all conversation and eye contact with her. Hermione was lonely and dreadfully bored.

The next time she received news of any sort of development was again from O'Rourke. Another former Death Eater had been found murdered in Knockturn Alley. The same curse had been used, leaving the victim nearly slashed in half. Aside from that, there was no evidence as usual. Ron was quite certain that this proved that Draco Malfoy was the killer.

“He's on the loose, stole a wand just three days ago and now a body turns up?”

Hermione didn't bother to argue with him. Additionally, she did not find Ron's line of logic conclusive. Last they knew Harry was with Malfoy, and it was unlikely he would just stand there as his new friend returned to his gruesome killing spree. Still, the possibility that Harry could be assisting Draco drove Ron to a new level of fury towards Harry, and Hermione found avoiding Ron was the best way to avoid hexing him into oblivion. So she continued to be bored and lonely.

On the 25th day since Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had made their prison break, Hermione regretted that she ever felt sorry for herself about being bored. On the 25th day, those who had threatened her came to deliver on their promise.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry felt the cool wind hit his face, and when he inhaled the salty scent of ocean flooded his senses. It felt refreshing, and for some reason it made him think of Hermione. Well, he knew why really. Growing up he had never really gotten to go to the ocean. The Dursleys would sometimes go on getaways to the seaside, but Harry mostly got left with Arabella Figg. The few memories Harry did have of the beach were those of Dudley forcing him to eat sand and getting so severely sunburnt he couldn't move for days. Hermione had changed that for him a few years back...

He had just returned from a particularly disturbing mission involving the disappearance of children and a mass murderer. He was feeling completely out of sorts- it was the sort of mission that made him feel desolate and hopeless. He wondered why he bothered to fight evil when there would always be more of it. So much bloodshed, so many good lives torn apart and he witnessed it all.

He had a few days off so he went where he always went, Hermione's home, which he had recently purchased for her. She demanded she slowly pay him back, and while he admired her persistence he couldn't have cared less about the money. The simple symbol of having a place to come back to meant the world to him, and with Hermione living there it was more than just a house-- it truly was a home. It was the way she cooked the old-fashioned muggle way, the way she carefully tended to her gardens, and how she decorated with such precise neatness but also colorful personality. It was the simple gesture of pouring him tea and asking how he was, and if he didn't say much (and he rarely did) she would distract him by rambling on about any old thing just to keep him entertained. Even Hogwarts no longer felt like home to him after all the blood spilled there. Hermione had created a space where he could feel slightly like himself again, and that was invaluable.

Coming back to her home after that particular mission he didn't think any amount of tea or idle chatter could keep his mind from going to dark places. So when he arrived and found she was off at work he quietly locked himself in the guest bedroom and willed himself to cry. He thought tears may be a sort of catharsis, but no matter how hard he tried he was simply too dried up. He curled up in a ball, and found a nightmare-ridden sleep.

When he awoke, it was to the sensation of having articles of clothing whipped at his sleeping form. He blinked hard and discovered his face was half covered by a pair of trunks, and there was a towel dangling from the edge of the bed. “Whaaa...” he asked, looking at her and not comprehending. She was standing silhouetted in the doorway, arms crossed in that trademark bossy, no-nonsense pose he had some to adore.

“You've been sleeping for quite long enough. It's the morning and we're going to the beach” she declared. “Put those on and let's go.”

Before he could protest she had turned from the door and marched off, leaving him no option but to oblige her. For whatever reason, she decided to drive. They rarely drove places, but since they were both muggle-raised he did own a car, which he kept parked at her house (it was often the subject of much wonderment from her witch and wizard neighbors). That day she decided they ought to go for a spin, and upon reflection Harry thought it was quite clever. With the windows rolled down the fresh air rushed over them and the bright sun brought some feeling back to his numb body and soul. When she cranked up the car's stereo he actually started to feel a strange glimmer of happiness, something he had thought was impossible given all he had witnessed.

They reached the beach and he could smell the salt water right away. It made him feel more like his 20-year-old self, and less like an old man bogged down by the troubles of the world. It cleared his mind like cobwebs and decay being blown away from his brain. He could feel the warm sand under his feet and when they sat down to the picnic she packed he could really enjoy food for the first time in weeks.

The water was cold but he didn't care. It gave him a rush and he dunked under again and again, splashing about like a child. Once he caught her watching him, and there was a strange expression in her eyes. He had never seen her look at him quite like that, and so he dove back under the water once more to wash it from his mind. He wanted to think of nothing and to submerge himself in purely physical sensations like the taste of salt on his tongue and sting of the water on his eyes. When he came back up she was gone, and he could see she had retreated to her towel, where she lay far away glistening in the sun.

Even from such a distance he thought she was painfully beautiful, and he wondered if he could ever express what her friendship meant to him. And standing there in the water, he finally felt a few tears slip loose from his eyes.

That memory was a pleasant one, albeit bittersweet. It had come in a time when he was in great need, and she had responded to that need with no fuss or drama. Somehow she had just known what he needed, and ever since then the sea reminded him of her.

He knew he would have to write her again once he and Draco moved on. They had been spending the past week hiding out in a Malfoy family retreat- a very old and particularly drafty castle right on an ocean cliff. Draco had explained that his family had not used the place in centuries as it was outdated and nearly uninhabitable. Hence, it was a perfectly safe but perfectly uncomfortable place to stay.

When they left Malfoy Manor it had been with wands, money and some basic supplies. They had also taken numerous books including Tom Riddle's diary, the one that mysteriously ended and failed to chronicle of the gap between being Riddle and becoming Voldemort. Draco had a strong hunch that this gap of time had to do with the murder of his parents and the various others. Harry wasn't as convinced and he said as much that night after coming in from the ocean and finding Malfoy still laboring over his studies.

“If they are killing the old Death Eaters off because they know some burning secret about Tom Riddle, then it could have happened at any time in his life. What if he referred to it in his other journal? You know, the one I stabbed with a Basilisk fang.”

“Because I know that it was around the time when this journal was being written that Tom Riddle became very excited about something very secretive and powerful.”

“How could you possibly know that if it isn't mentioned in the journal?”

Draco sighed, slamming the book he was trying to study from his a loud BANG that echoed through the mostly empty castle. “Taking Greyback's fangs wasn't a total waste of time. I have found one particular memory that keeps ringing through my head. Something Tom Riddle said to Fenrir Greyback years ago, when the two had only just met and he was seeking to form an alliance with the werewolf. He said... There are some magics, so difficult and ancient that they were nearly lost to the years. Some magics, which even the great wizards of our history hadn't the slightest idea about. These magics, these are what will make me beyond immortal, and greater than legend. Mastering these magics will make me a God.”

“Hmm, you sure have that memorized well” Harry said, suspicious.

“Well Potter, it's winding through my brain every other minute. I can keep pushing it away but it keeps coming back.”

“So Tom Riddle thought he stumbled upon some sort of incredible magic.”

“Yes, something that would make him very strong. Something that possibly did contribute to his power as Voldemort.”

“Well that's brilliant, but awfully vague, and probably not even associated.”

“Hence why I'm speaking with you now Potter. It's time to do some digging.”

“Digging?”

“You have all of Riddle AKA Voldemort's memories. You have learned to control them, so you should be able to look into them and see where he went.”

“You said yourself they aren't organized! It's not exactly like an archived, indexed source of information now is it?!” Harry asked, incredulous.

“No, but if you really try to focus that wet noodle you have for a brain, you might be able to see something.”

“Or I might blow this place to smithereens! I barely have control as it is, and confronting memories that include my parents' murders along with hundreds of others is hardly a way to test myself. I don't want to look into his mind; the little glimpses I saw were quite enough. If it didn't totally drive me mad the first time, it certainly will now.”

Draco stood, his face tight as though he was trying to control some nearly irrepressible emotion. When he spoke, it was clear what that feeling was. Rage. “Listen Potter, I have gone along with the Unbreakable Fucking Oath for weeks now. I patiently sat with you as we tried to teach that sluggish brain of yours a little self-control. I shared my information with you; hell I even fed and clothed you at Malfoy Manor. I have bent to your every whiny little need and concern, even though everyday I see your ugly face is the worst day of my life. I have swallowed my pride, controlled my need for redemption, and battled my hatred for you. But this DRAMA has got to get in check!” Draco was yelling now, and Harry felt a slight tremble under foot. Malfoy was causing the room to shake. “It's time that THE BOY WHO LIVED acts like THE MAN WHO DESERVES MY FUCKING TIME! Because right now you are showing what a waste of precious life you are and what a unless prat you've always been!”

The room was definitely shaking now, so hard that a piece of the already crumbling stone ceiling shook loose and landed only an arm's length from crushing them both. This reaction snapped Malfoy from his anger, which had left him red faced and panting, his fists balled up so tight his fingernails were cutting into the skin of his palm and little rivulets of blood had appeared.

Harry simply looked at Draco with awe. “You did wandless magic.”

“I didn't know I was capable” he snarled in response, turning on his heel and marching away. As he left, he shouted over his shoulder, “If I had known I would have broken myself out of that bloody prison and left you to be murdered.”

Harry was left alone in the silence of the castle, and ultimately he knew that Draco Malfoy had a point. And that was something he never thought he would admit to. Even if Malfoy was wrong and Tom Riddle's disappearance had nothing to do with the murders, it as still perplexing and somehow Harry knew it was important. He walked back to the ocean to try to clear his mind once more. He was going to have to try to tap into Tom Riddle's memories, not for Draco Malfoy's sake, but because he needed to know for himself.

He wasn't sure what it would be like, how it would work. But he knew one thing for certain; it would hurt like hell.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

It was nightfall when there was the distinct sound of a far off explosion. Hermione had been nodding to sleep over a book, but the sound woke her in a split second. She ran to the window and looked out into the darkness outside of the Burrow. She couldn't see anything, but the next explosion shook the entire house so hard she stumbled. It lit up the night sky, colliding against the invisible wall of the wards the aurors had set.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and the first thought that flashed into her mind was they're coming for me. She had never been the direct object of attack, and for the first she truly knew something of how Harry had always felt. I am putting everyone here at risk, I should have left ages ago, if they die it will be all my fault.

Despite these flashes of panicky thought, this was not Hermione's first brush with danger, and she was first and foremost a survivor. She reached for her wand and ran downstairs, where the Weasley clan was in a state of chaos.

“Whatsgoingon?” Ron shouted over a third explosion that caused Mrs. Weasley's cooking pots to tumble from the cupboard and all over the floor in a crash so wild it caused them all to jump.

“They finally found where she's hiding” O'Rourke announced, having just strode through the door. She looked wild with aggression; her eyes alight with a fire to match the color of her hair. She looked every bit the role of auror, and the threat of violence seemed to bring her to life.

“Who's coming?” Ron responded, holding his wand out and looking frantically about himself as though the doors would be kicked down at any moment.

“Whoever threatened Hermione you stupid sod!” Ginny responded with more fury than usual. Hermione was quickly learning that Ginny was no longer the little sister with a schoolgirl crush.

“Well, that doesn't give us a whole bloody lot of information now does it?”

“Language Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley responded shrilly. Hermione had always admired how this kind hearted motherly woman was also a powerful witch and something of a warrior to be reckoned with. She had seen Molly Weasley defeat Belletrix Lestrange, a moment she would never forget.

“What if it's Harry?” Ron asked, as the fourth explosion nearly sent him to the floor. “He blew up half the auror department, and now he's running about with Draco Malfoy. Could it be him?”

“Why would Harry come after us like this?” Hermione spat, annoyed as every by Ron's stupidity. “The wards aren't designed to keep him out, there'd be no reason for the theatrics, even if he wanted to kill us which clearly he DOES NOT!”

“Enough of the bickering!” O'Rourke interjected, her demeanor leaving no room for argument. “I have been ordered to fall back and see you to safety. Now that they've found the location it's only a matter of time before they break down the wards.”

“We can't leave the Burrow to be destroyed!” Ron argued. “We don't even know anything about them, we can probably take them on and end this thing now.”

“Absolutely not Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley roared.

“We have already lost enough in this family. We are not losing anymore children, especially not over a house” Mr. Weasley chimed in for the first time.

“Let the aurors do their job” O'Rourke agreed. She pulled an old baseball hat from her bag. “This portkey will take us to the auror department. We can wait there until we receive...”

But O'Rourke never got to finish that thought, because the next blast ripped open the wall near where she was standing, and the explosion sent pieces of their beloved home everywhere, filling the house with smoke and dust. Hermione could barely see or breathe, but she had not been knocked down and so she choked through the acrid air and moved blindly through the debris, looking for the spot where O'Rourke had formerly been standing. She started to dig through the pile of glass and wooden splinters when she was pulled back violently by strong hands.

She turned to face Ron, who she could barely make out through the smoke even though his face was inches away. He was yelling something but she couldn't hear him, and she realized he ears will still ringing. Slowly his voice cut through in waves “we need.... to get... you out of here!”

She pushed him violently away and turned back to the spot where O'Rourke was buried, digging frantically once more. Ron tried to grab her again, but this time she turned her wand on him, and he seemed to recognize the stubborn determination on her face. He began to dig as well, and soon they were joined by Ginny, Molly and Arthur.

When they got to the bottom of the debris Hermione didn't need to take a pulse. A plank of wood had embedded itself straight through O'Rourke's chest, and her eyes stared upwards, unblinking and glassy. Hermione felt a strangled sob escaped her lips, but Ron continued to dig in search of the portkey that O'Rourke had just been holding.

Hermione didn't care about the portkey, or the fact that the house was now on fire. She was tired of running and hiding, and she turned from watching her friend scrambling on his knees, and walked straight through the hole in the wall and out into the night air.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry had walked deep into a quiet field. By now it was dark, and the stars were the only light he needed. He was simply looking for someplace quiet and far from where he could harm others. He wasn't sure what sort of adverse effects might come from tapping into Riddle's memories, but he had a feeling accidental magic was a safe bet.

He sat cross-legged in the tall grass and tried to think of a way to access the memories. It wasn't exactly intuitive, especially since his experience was nothing like Draco's. He still didn't know why he was experiencing Riddle/Voldemort's memories and emotions, and thus he knew nothing about confronting them. He was rubbish at occlumency and legilimency, which were the closest things he had ever experienced to co-consciousness.

That thought brought up another more salient one. He had seen a little of Voldemort's world through his dreams, and perhaps if he could focus in on those images he could discover more. He closed his eyes and tried to picture nightmares he had long tried to leave behind. He heard Voldemort's voice echoing, he could hear the hiss of Nagini, and slowly dark shapes took form and became increasingly clear... and then he slipped into a world unlike he had ever experienced.

When legimens had been used on Harry in the past, it felt like a dream, and while it had a sense of being real, it was nothing like what he was experiencing now. It was like a vivid memory, but clearly not his own. The way his body felt was different, and his emotions and perception of things were changed. In fact, the whole world looked different from what he was used to experiencing. It was almost as though the contrast on life had been turned up, but it made the shadows all that much darker.

He felt his mind glide into a memory; he was walking down a hallway and his stride felt strange, almost like gliding. He could observe all this, but he couldn't control any of it. He was the prisoner in the mind of another, and it was a disconcerting feeling. Even more disconcerting was the way things began to jump rapidly around him and change. It was like he was flying through time and grabbing glimpses of things; a Hogwarts corridor, a book lit by candlelight, Lilly Potter falling lifelessly to the floor, a group of masked people in robes, Belletrix Lestrange with a look of worship on her face, Harry himself as a little boy looking beat up with the Sorcerer's Stone in hand... Faster and faster the memories blurred by until they were unrecognizable and Harry wanted to escape, wanted to return to his own consciousness, but he didn't know how to stop it now.

And then, suddenly, he heard the exact same words Malfoy had spoken to him, but this time the voice had changed, and he could feel his mouth moving through the memory, and he knew he was experiencing the memory from Tom Riddle's point of view. No, more than that... I'm in Riddle's mind he realized. He could feel his heart beating as one with him, sense his thoughts, and even feel, smell and taste everything Riddle was experiencing.

“There are some magics, so difficult and ancient that they were nearly lost to the years. Some magics, which even the great wizards of our history hadn't the slightest idea about. These magics, these are what will make me beyond immortal, and greater than legend. Mastering these magics will make me a God” Tom Riddle was saying as he watched the creature Fenrir Greyback with a mixture of disgust and intrigue. They stood in a clearing in the forest, a place Riddle had chosen as it was a safe distance from Hogwarts grounds and deep enough in the forest that even the Centaurs wouldn't be a problem. Riddle knew from careful studies that Centaurs could not be controlled, and could get violent. As such, he avoided them and they avoided him when he wandered the forest at night. Luckily, they cared for little but their own affairs.

Riddle had heard tales of the feared Fenrir Greyback, a vicious werewolf who was developing momentum in a personal mission to spread lycanthropy. Riddle found it disturbing and disgusting, truly a sin against pure blood to turn a wizard into a mangy beast. Still, such savagery was useful if controlled and so he had tracked Greyback down and they had struck a deal. Riddle briefly explained his future aspirations, and agreed to allow Greyback to turn any mudbloods and blood traitors along the way. With the deal in place, Tom Riddle dreamed of a bloody path ahead of them. Just the idea was almost seductive in its alluring nature. Additionally, he fully intended to kill all the werewolves when he gained full power. He didn't share all of his secrets with Greyback of course.

He did choose to share the secret of his upcoming plans as they stood in the darkness of a cold winter night. His days at Hogwarts would soon be at an end, and the next phase of his plans would commence. He needed to let the werewolf know that he was leaving but would be back in due time, and to patiently await future orders like a good little doggy. He told Greyback about how he had discovered a new path of magical power, and that it would make him unstoppable. He felt Greyback believe him as he spoke, and that was good. It was important that those who followed him in the days to come trust his indestructibility wholly. An indestructible man would never face mutiny and would always be feared. And being feared was the thing Riddle craved the most.

Fear was like a drug and he could never get enough of it. Watching others cower and fall, watching them shudder under his gaze-- it was all arousing in a way that he could never describe to those who had not experienced it. He intended to reach a day when his name was so associated with fear that people wouldn't even dare to speak it aloud.

Tom Riddle told Fenrir Grayback what he needed to know. He would be gone for some extended period of time to strengthen his magical powers, and when he returned they would change the world forever. Greyback nodded, his hideous eyes filling with a look that mixed discomfort with excitement.

Riddle walked slowly back towards the school, knowing that the wolf would follow him until the end. This caused a smirk slowly spread across his face, and what remained of Harry's consciousness recognized this sensation. Riddle was thinking about tasks left to complete before he could begin his journey-- he thought of horocruxes yet to be created, about seeking a position to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and about many other orders of business. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, looking massive and wonderful, and then is slowly faded away into darkness.

When the darkness subsided, Harry was in a new memory, and through Tom Riddle's eyes he watched the dingy setting of Knockturn Alley pass his vision. It was near dusk, and as he passed a shop his head turned a moment and he caught his reflection in a shop window; young and handsome with a straight confident posture, jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes. Even though Harry's consciousness knew he was just reliving a memory, it still shook him to look into a reflection and see his enemy staring back so calmly.

He turned down an alleyway so tight and dark it was hardly noticeable, and soon came upon a door with peeling black paint. He yanked it open and inside was a small square room that offered no lighting except for a few dim, smoke stained lanterns. When his eyes adjusted he could make out bar stools and saw that it was indeed a pub of sorts. There was nobody there except for a man whose back was turned as he entered.

Riddle took a seat at the bar, and glanced sidelong at the man who was sipping some dark substance from his glass. The man was very tall, with pale features and a perfectly straight nose. He looked young, maybe around thirty years old, and he was dressed in an almost old fashioned manner, with a well tailored black jacket and a crisp white button up. Neither Riddle nor the stranger spoke at first. There was no bartender in sight, so Riddle simply stared straight into the rows of liquor bottles, watching his warped reflection flicker in the dim candlelight.

“Were you followed? The man asked.

“No Damon.”

“Of course not” Damon responded, slowly smiling in a way that gave his otherwise flawless looks a sinister appearance. “You are always careful Mr. Riddle, otherwise you couldn't have gotten away with things as long as you have. All those killings... I don't normally condone such behavior but it is clear that your ambition exceeds normal reasoning. Although, these horocruxes are taking a toll on that youthful beauty. Dark magic is said to do that you know.”

“I'm not concerned. When you teach me to channel magic as you have I will fix the damage.”

“Don't be so certain” Damon admonished, but he said nothing more on the matter. “Are your affairs in order?”

“Yes, I have finished what I needed to do. My followers will wait loyally for my return. I gave my leave of absence at Borgin and Burkes today.”

“Very good. I hope you are certain your supporters will wait loyally. Your return may take quite some time, and when you do return you will need to raise an army for the cause.”

“I have no doubts about their loyalty” Riddle responded, his tone resolute.

“I believe you Mr. Riddle... one final matter. I will not be instructing you to channel magic personally. I sense a great destiny for you Tom, but I have to be certain you are capable. I am sending you to the place where it all started for me...”

The bar faded away once more, and when the next memory surfaced it was many years later. It was disconcerting slipping so far though time, and the physical changes were clear. Where before Harry could sense Riddle's youthful strength, his confident posture and his almost elegant gracefulness, he now felt changed. His skin felt tight across his face, and there was something of a nagging sickness inside that he could not put his finger on.

He was gathered at Malfoy Manor, and seated around the table were the usual Death Eaters, but they looked much younger. In fact, many of them were about the age of his own parents when they died. So much time had slipped away, and whatever occurred between had caused Tom Riddle to become Lord Voldemort.

Despite the sickening effects dark magic had on his body and soul, Voldemort felt a thrill of power as he spoke to his disciples. They clung to his every word, some with outward devotion (Belletrix Lestrange) and others with trembling fear (Narcissa Malfoy). Despite Belletrix' enamoured stare, it was Narcissa's aversion and frightened demeanor that truly gave him a rush. He could feel the raw power he had over them all, and soon many more would follow.

He spoke of his plans, but again there were things he did not say aloud. Harry could sense this. While Voldemort was more certain than ever in his power, there was also a nagging disappointment in the back of his mind. Something had not gone according to plan since the time he had been a young man meeting the mysterious Damon in Knockturn Alley. Voldemort kept assuring himself that none of that mattered, but it was clear it bothered him. His pride had been injured in some way, and this spiked Harry's interest.

Yet all too soon it was slipping away and again he was thrown uncontrollably through time, witnessing horrible moments of torture, murder and pure evil. Harry saw Lilly Potter begging for the life of her son, and he could feel Voldemort's sick, lustful pleasure in the moment. Her screams... Harry was always hearing her screams and thought it would never end...

The screaming continued but he realized the voice had changed. Harry was the one screaming, as he lay drenched in sweat, lying flat on his back in the middle of the field. He opened his eyes and the world above him spun dizzily, the stars dancing until he gradually regained his normal vision. Shakily he rolled onto his stomach, trying not to vomit as he breathed heavily, the scent of the Earth gradually calming him. After about an hour he was able to get to his feet and he walked back to the castle.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione felt a strange silence take her over as she left the Burrow burning behind her and marched towards the source of the explosions. This had happened to her on occasion, moments when her determination could block out all external stimulus and she was afforded a single focus. Her wand was drawn and she moved swiftly across the grass.

There were aurors on the front line poised for battle, and beyond them was a sort of mist that shrouded the attackers from sight. When they emerged, they were clothed in dark robes, and for a moment she thought that they were Death Eaters. But no, their faces were not covered. They were unrecognizable faces of men and women who betrayed no emotion and advanced in a single line. Also significant to her initial observation was that they did not carry wands.

The aurors stood their ground, wands pointed, unsure what to do. And then they started to drop around her. The distinct green Avada Kedava curse could be seen in the night sky, amongst some less recognizable shades. But there were no wands... no incantations. She hit the ground hard to dodge a curse that whizzed by her head.

My God... they are using wandless, wordless magic she realized as her body was pressed against the dirt. Overcoming the initial shock she raised her wand and cried out a stupify charm, which hit an advancing witch and she fell instantly. Wandless and wordless, but they still fall like everyone else.

She began to attack the robed assailants from her place on the ground, sending a barrage of curses and spells that hit some but missed many. They were fast and maneuvered with the athletic grace of trained aurors, but they were also able to block spells with a wave of the hand when they saw them coming. She jumped back to her feet and started to retreat with the rest of the aurors as they were quickly being overtaken. Still, she walked backwards fearlessly firing everything she had (which was quite a lot). Her skills were quickly making her a primary target, and she nearly realized this too late as she just barely sidestepped a curse that caught the arm of the auror on her right and severed it from his body. Despite the horrific nature of this incident she tried to maintain focus. That was the same curse that's being used to kill the Death Eaters she realized with certainty.

And then there were arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, and in a flash she was no longer on the battlefield but standing in the dark hallways of Grimmauld Place. She struggled free from Ron's hold and barely controlled the desire to slap him. As her eyes came to focus in the dark house she saw that the other Weasleys were there as well, and she barely controlled her outrage.

“We need to go back!” she yelled, already preparing to apparate.

“We can't” Ron argued, also trying to keep his voice from approaching hysteria. “Kingsley arrived shortly after you ran off. They opened the wards so we could all escape, there's no point to going back.”

“Yes there is! What about the dying and wounded aurors who won't be able to escape?”

“Casualties” Ron mumbled, not liking the word but knowing it had to be said. She stared at him with an expression that revealed such pain that he couldn't bare it.

“Ron is right dear” Mrs. Weasley said slowly. “I am afraid we need to face this the way we have faced horrible times in the past. The Burrow is gone, and lives have been lost.”

There was a long silence.

“We don't know anything about these people. We don't know why they're doing this to us, or why they were offing past Death Eaters in the first place. We don't know how they're capable of the magic they showed us tonight. They are now our enemy and we know NOTHING of who they are or what their purpose is” Ginny said, breaking the silence. She couldn't make sense of any of it. It had been not so long ago that she was playing international Quidditch and dating boys and her biggest problem was trying to forget the final battle and cope with the loss of her brother. Now the feeling of fear and danger was back and the only word to describe the way she was feeling the weary.

If Ginny felt weary, Hermione felt positively exhausted. She wasn't used to being so unprepared. Ginny was right, they knew next to nothing about what they were facing and lack of knowledge was one of Hermione's worst nightmares. Furthermore, the Boy Who Lived was nowhere to be found. While Hermione had always been the brains of the trio, Harry had given her confidence and had also provided leadership. She didn't consider herself a leader, but in that moment everyone was looking to her like she might have answers. But she had nothing.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco was sitting far above the ground in a crumbling castle tower. Up here the wind from the ocean was even more forceful, and due to the decaying state of the ancient Malfoy property there was hardly anything to block the cold from hitting him. Draco felt confused, and worried and tired. And he didn't like any of those feelings. In fact, he hated them. It made him feel weak, it made him loathe himself once more, and he couldn't stop flashing back to not so distant memories that he normally deflected with such skill.

He thought of how his parents begged and pleaded at the feet of Voldemort and how he joined them. He thought of how he helped to kill Albus Dumbedore, a man he secretly admired because he was only person Voldemort feared. He thought about all the times he had been rude and callous and cruel just to feel less alone and afraid. Mostly he remembered what a spineless worm he had always been and would always be. In those years that Draco struggled to control his fear and in those years that he was a puppet to the Dark Lord, he had found solace only in the concept that he was keeping his family safe in some way. His parents were not perfect people; they were cold, judgmental, and often cruel to even him (especially Lucius). But they were his family, and if there was one thing that remained true to Draco after all that had happened, it was that blood was important. But when they were murdered, he had hidden. Now he had no family left to protect.

Which brought him to the matter of confusion. He didn't know what he was doing. He was chasing shadows in the night, and he wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much he had imagined. He had become so caught up in the process of searching, he worried he was beginning to just make things up. He had tortured Fenrir Greyback to get his fangs to try and see into a jumbled mess of memories he could barely decipher. He knew the pain Greback felt as the fangs were ripped from his mouth because sometimes Draco could feel the memory pass over his consciousness. He said nothing about it because he knew he deserved it. Greyback was a terrible creature and a murderer, but torture was not a thing Draco prided himself on. He was not a sadist like Belletrix Lestrange.

But he also wasn't a saint like Harry Potter. This name brought further confusion. Draco didn't understand how he had come to chase shadows alongside his enemy. But Potter wasn't his enemy anymore. Whoever killed his parents was. Potter was simply a childhood rival and a stupid prat but not an enemy. Malfoy was nothing like Potter, and he knew that innately. He would never be as twisted as Lestrange, but he could also never be as good as Potter. And that was where Draco's least favorite emotion came into play; envy.

It wasn't that Draco envied Harry's saintliness. No, in fact he despised it as a weakness. What he envied was that Harry could still be good after everything he had faced. Harry Potter, who had apparently grown up unfed and unloved, but still found loving and loyal friends. Harry Potter who chased shadows since he was a boy, while Draco lived behind them. Harry Potter who still went into the dark and somehow found light. This is what Draco envied. Because living in the shadows was worse than fighting them; it had made Draco a cynical and angry creature and the self-loathing never ended.

The final thing that weighed on Draco's mind as the cold wind roared towards him from the black night was the fact that he had used wandless magic. There was only thing that Draco and Harry shared in common and that was that they were both possessed by memories that were not their own. Draco wondered if co-consciousness could really lead to wandless magic abilities. His lack of knowledge on the subject made him uneasy. There were so many questions on his mind it exhausted him.

And so he staggered back in the night and fell heavily to the ground, leaning up against a pile of stones that had once been part of the castle walls. He had long removed his armor since it was currently unneeded, and now all he had on was a thin charcoal grey jumper and his black slacks to protect him from the cold ocean air. He sat, head bowed, and continued to think until footsteps approached.

He could recognize the sound of Harry's footsteps by now, which was a strange thing. While Harry and Draco were about the same height, they had a very different build. Harry had spent the past few years physically training as an auror and he was wider and more muscular. Draco had spent that same time conditioning his mind through books and research, and so he was more thin and wiry. Harry walked with heavy steps.

They said nothing to each other for a moment, both just embracing the sting of the icy wind, and looking up into the stars. Finally, Harry spoke. “Before Tom Riddle disappeared, he met someone named Damon at a strange back room in Knockturn Alley. He was ready to learn about some sort of new magic, something he seemed to think would give him great powers.”

“How old was he when this happened?” Draco asked sharply, rising to his feet with renewed energy.

“He was around our age I would say, hard to be certain. He had just resigned from Borgin and Burkes, and planned to leave for some time.”

“Yes, that is exactly the time frame. Riddle killed Hepzibah Smith, then his diary ended. However, if you look at the records it will show that only shortly after he gave his resignation from his first place of employment and then he was gone for quite some time. It is speculated that he traveled, learned more about dark magic, continued to gain support and make connections. But of course, there are no real details.”

“Well, for at least some of that time I would say it clear he was with this new mystery bloke, Damon.”

“Always more mysteries” Draco mumbled.

“Tell me about it” Harry said, and there was almost a smile of his face. Draco looked at him a moment and wondered what hell it had been like for Harry to see the world through the eyes of one of the most evil men to ever live.

“We need to go to Knockturn Alley, try to find the place you saw in your dreams.”

Harry nodded, and turned to head back down the steps. “At least we're one step closer” Harry called out, his voice echoing up the staircase as he made his way down. His voice was nearly lost in the wind and he was now out of sight, but Draco nodded anyways.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione had no answers, and for most people that would make them feel entirely defeated. But for her it was like a sudden kick of adrenaline, a boost to her exhausted mind and without even cleaning the soot, dirt and blood off that she has accumulated from the battle at the Burrow, she headed to the small and dusty library that Grimmauld Place had to offer.

She knew that it was a long stretch as there were barely 500 books in there, but Hermione Granger didn't know what else to do in times of struggle but to ally herself with the nearest book. She pulled the oldest and most cobweb infested book she could find off the shelf and aimlessly started to read.

The Burrow is gone because of you. O'Rourke is dead because of you. The words shot up into her consciousness like a rocket, and suddenly she realized that the neatly handwritten words on the page were becoming blurry. She was crying. Where is Harry? she thought desperately. True, she had solved many of the riddles they had faced together, but she had always had his strength and unwavering support behind her. Right now she needed that, and she didn't think anyone else in the world could provide it. What if Ron's right? What if Harry has gone mad and aligned himself with Malfoy? What if MY Harry is gone forever?

A soft knock on the door made her jump and she hastily wiped away the tears that had found their way down her cheek. A second later Hermione was surprised to see Luna Lovegood's blonde head popping in through the crack in the door. A moment later she was followed by Ron and then Ginny.

“I thought maybe you could use some company” Luna said, her tone as dreamy and calm as ever. “Ronald and Ginny quite agreed.”

“Have you been crying?” Ron asked brashly, and when Ginny shot him an exasperated look he blushed a bit.

“I feel badly about everything... about you losing your home...” suddenly she felt she might cry again so she fell silent. In an unexpected display of affection, Ginny suddenly moved forward and wrapped Hermione in a hug, and she was surprised by how good it felt to be embraced in that moment; how much less alone she felt.

“It's not your fault Hermione” Ginny whispered in the older girl's ear. When they parted, Ron was still standing there looking sheepish, but finally he too bent down and hugged his female best friend, patting her awkwardly on the back.

“I know we disagree about Harry, and maybe I've been hot headed about it. But I want you to know I'm not mad at you. I'm just glad that you're okay... that we're all okay.”

Caitlin O'Rourke isn't okay Hermione thought to herself. The other aurors aren't okay.

“Mum is busying herself tidying this place up so we can stay here the night while we figure out what to do next. I know the Burrow took a beating back there, but it may still be standing... I dunno...”

Hermione felt doubtful based on all the fire and shrapnel that had been surrounding them when they left, but she didn't say so, simply giving Ron a weak smile and keeping his hand in hers as he stood there. “Luna, what are you doing here?” Hermione asked, suddenly remembering the appearance of the former Ravenclaw.

“Oh, I suddenly had the strangest feeling that something bad was happening to you all. It must have been a Grumbling Whirlyflack that told me. After the war I was told about how the Order had hidden here, and so I thought I should come see if you were safe.” Hermione thought that Luna had made a lot of leaps in logic and quite possibly had some strange power for divination, but now was not the time to deduct the actual fact in the whimsical blonde's words. “What are you reading?”

“Oh nothing, just some book about...” Hermione suddenly realized she had been mindlessly reading but not absorbing a word, and when she looked back down at the page she frowned. “Apparently I've been reading about the medicinal purposes of Monkshood. I thought maybe I would find something. I don't know what I thought. I don't suppose you know anything about wandless magic Luna.”

Hermione had only been joking, but Luna looked pensive. “A Quibbler source of mine from Paris recently tried to contact me about having seen a Petterbeak in her neighborhood, but that's obviously foolish.”

They all just stared at her, confused. “Foolish because... there's not such thing?” Ron ventured.

“No, foolish because nobody can see a Petterbeak, they're invisible!” Luna responded, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I still don't see what that has to do with wandless magic” Ron yawned, slumping down in an armchair that let out a large puff of dust upon contact.

“Well, Petterbeaks are known to latch onto witches or wizards and allow them to perform wandless magic. My contact wanted me to come investigate because she claimed to have seen a woman in her neighborhood in a black clock perform wandless magic because she had a Petterbeak on her back.”

Hermione suddenly snapped back to being alert once more. “Did you say a black cloak?”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

There was no point in waiting until the next day to visit Knockturn Alley. Both Draco and Harry were wide awake, and they had spent quite enough time waiting. After Draco came down from the tower they suited up, grabbed their belongings and apparated to Diagon Alley, which was quiet aside from a few pubs, which were still serving to boisterous customers. Harry looked through the lit glass of these establishments and envied the warm fire, hot meals and soothing alcohol they were enjoying inside. He thought of the few times when he had been away from work and managed to spend some time drinking at these places with Ron. Now he wished he had made more time for such simple pleasures.

They quietly turned down Knockturn Alley, a place that never seemed to sleep. There were muffled conversations from dark corners, and the pubs here were overflowing with visitors, but the warm aura of those in Diagon Alley was missing. These pubs had no cheerful laughter and boisterous music. Instead they were packed with seedy characters crouched over card games, glaring with hostility at the dark hooded figures who passed outside. There were WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE posters plastered to the filthy brick walls, and they reminded Harry of Sirius. However, instead of seeing the tortured screaming face of his Godfather, Harry saw himself staring back with a calm expression. He was unconscious when they put him behind bars, so all they had to use for his mug shot was the yearly photo taken for his auror profile. Draco's mug shot on the other hand was far more nasty looking. He snarled and sneered as he moved about the frame.

As they walked through Knockturn Alley Harry felt small glimpses of Riddle's memories overlapping with his own. He was able to control these however, and they helped guide him to the very obsolete alleyway that led to where they needed to go. They alleyway was so dark and narrow that even looking directly at it Harry could barely distinguish it from a shadow against the wall. He wondered if it was clocked by a concealment charm, and he decided this was more than likely the case. This place where they were headed clearly did not welcome strangers off the street.

Harry and Draco had to turn sideways to fit through the opening, and once inside Harry's shoulders still brushed against the walls as he walked. Luckily it wasn't a long walk before they were upon the black door with peeling paint (needless to say, the paint was far more peeled than it had been in Tom Riddle's distant memories). Harry and Draco exchanged a glance and then quickly opened the door, their stolen wands poised.

But there was nobody inside.

The door had been unlocked, and there was dim lantern lighting as there had been in the memory, but there were no patrons, no bartender. It was utterly empty. “There must be somebody around” Harry mumbled, looking for a back door, and no sooner had he said that when a panel next to the door popped open and an old man appeared. The man had a crooked spine, which made him look even shorter than he already was; he barely cleared the bar. His sparse white hair was in wild disarray, and he had the same look as many in Knockturn Alley-- unbathed and shifty.

His eyes could barely be seen behind an impressive set of massive white eyebrows, but there was a look of confusion in them. Still he said nothing, gesturing to the bar to offer them a drink. The two boys approached warily, and then took a seat. In the back of Harry's mind, he realized he was sitting in the same exact seat where Riddle had sat, and Malfoy was seated in Damon's spot.

“Firewhisky on the rocks” Draco drawled, not dropping his wand but laying it on the bar top where the little wizened old man could clearly see it.

“Same” Harry nodded.

The man quickly provided their drinks, and then began to retreat back behind the panel from where he had came in, but Draco stopped him with a quick word. “We need to ask you if you know anything about a man, a man who was here a long time ago. You look old enough to remember him.”

The old man shook his head and attempted to turn away quickly, but Draco reached over the bar and grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to swing back and face him. “Have some manners” Draco said snidely. “I haven't even told you his name.”

Harry picked up from there. “His name was Damon. He looked to be about 30 years old, with pale, well-defined features. He had dark eyes, and somewhat curly auburn hair that fell just below his ears. He was here with a young man who I'm sure I won't have to describe. He was meeting with Tom Riddle.”

The old man tried to struggle frantically in Draco's grip now, making muffled, indiscernible noises. He was short but squat, and he nearly broke loose, but it was Harry who grabbed him the second time, and he hauled the old man over the bar nearly effortlessly, throwing his body to the ground where he pinned him down.

Draco watched, fascinated as Harry did this in a single motion. Physicality had never really been part of Draco's repertoire but he saw it as quite effective as Harry loomed menacingly over the bartender. “I am not looking to hurt you, but I'm not here to play games” Harry warned, his tone calm but tense as the man continued to make garbled sounds.

Harry was about to speak again when he stopped suddenly and released the old man. “His tongue's been cut out” Harry said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and pity. He helped the man up then, but he backed quickly away from Harry when his hood fell down, revealing his scar quite prominently. “I told you I don't want to hurt you, I'm sorry. Can you write at all?” The man shook his head in a hurried NO and Harry nodded. “I'm sorry this was done to you. I cannot let you run off just yet, in case you call for help. Sit, drink if you like while we look around.”

The old man looked surprised, and he nodded his understanding. Potter and his never ending saintliness Draco thought with disgust. A moment ago Potter had been flinging the old man around like a bag of flour, and now he was genuinely concerned. “Well, now we really have nothing to work with” Draco sighed. “Just another dead end.”

“Not quite” Harry smiled slowly, walking to the back of the room. It was shadowy and he had barely seen it, but there hanging in the corner was a dusty old painting of a man who lay sleeping, a pint beside his head. They could hear the man snoring softly and Harry knocked promptly on the frame. “Wake up” he ordered. “I have a question to ask you.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“I have a question to ask you Luna” Hermione said hurriedly after Luna had confirmed that a black cloak was involved. “Did your source mention if the spell was done without an incantation?”

“Yes, she did now that you mention it. She said that her neighbor had always been a quiet witch who stayed to herself and always spent nights in her flat. Which was why she was rather surprised when she saw her out on the street after midnight in an all black cloak. My source said that the woman didn't see her watching from her balcony above, and she levitated a large stone and grabbed something from beneath it, but she didn't use or a wand or say an incantation. Which is why my source thought at first it was an Invisible Sprillwink that had picked up the stone, but we all know those never go further south than London.”

“Naturally” Ron responded, a bit of amusement in his otherwise troubled expression. “What do you think it all means Hermione?”

“Well, it could mean several things. Perhaps Luna's source had a bad vantage point and didn't see that the woman actually used a wand. There's also the possibility that the source is a total wacko and made the whole thing up. But there's a third possibility; perhaps Luna's source saw one of our attackers.”

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

“Whaddyawant?” the drunken sleeping man in the picture slurred, waking from his snooze with a belligerent attitude.

“As I said, I need to ask you a question” Harry repeated.

“Nobody ever speaks to me no more” the drunk man lamented, picking back up the glass he had left idle on the bar table.

“Well today is your lucky day” Draco said, snidely joining the conversation.

“Oh yah, realll lucky being awoken from a pleasant dream of strippers and whores for a couple ugly blokes getting in my face.”

“You can't dream...” Harry started, but Draco cut him off. He did not feel like getting into a long side tracked conversation about the feasibility of art having consciousness. Draco asked him about the mysterious Damon and his meeting with Tom Riddle.

“Ahhh, dredging up old secrets are we?” the main asked, raising his eyebrow and then nearly toppling off his stool and out of the picture frame. “Well, you're dumb and ugly blokes. Why would they put a picture of me in here if I could repeat secrets? They banked on me being fully inebriated, which I always am. Can't remember a thing.”

“Well, if you say so then” Draco sighed, not believing him one bit. “Enjoy going back to your solitude. God knows when somebody will notice your shoddy little painting back here again. You know, I covered every painting back home to shut them up, but I noticed instead that they still whisper. They go mad in their loneliness. Imagine that! Pictures going mad, as if they have a brain. But let's go Potter, we'll find another way.”

Not getting Draco's game, Harry was about to protest, but the painting spoke first. “Ah wait, wait! Maybe, if you gents could spare an hour to pull up a table and join me for a drink I could remember a bit of value.”

“I had a feeling” Draco smiled slyly. “You're more clever than you let on.”

“They try to keep us quiet here, me and the dumb old mutey. But unlike the mute, I am sharp” he said this with a hiccup. Harry and Draco obliged his request, dragging a table over into the corner and the bartender brought them a couple refills on their beverages. Apparently Harry's kindness had won him over.

“I recall young Tom Riddle well” the drunk man began. “There are many characters who come here for the privacy it offers. That's all this place is really... a room for dirty business to be conducted. I don't even know who owns it to be honest. Hundreds of years ago I hung in a much finer establishment than this... it was the great hall with massive pillars and ale flowed like a river...”

“Ahem” Harry coughed, bringing the drunk back to the topic.

“Yes, well anyways, where was I... oh, I've been hanging in the corner here for about two hundred years now. Can you imagine! I was just stuck up here in the corner like yesterday's news. Anyhow, I've seen many strange folks come and go, but few with such a dark presence as that young Tom Riddle. I could see it even back in those days. He was first invited here by a man who called himself Damon. He looked young, but he was hundreds of year old. I know because I have a good memory for faces, and I'd seen him once, long ago. Damon invited young Riddle here specifically because he had been following some business with horocruxes... whatever the hell that means.

Anyways, Riddle was initially suspicious of how Damon knew so much about him. He didn't like it one bit, and he drew his wand on him, but he was instantly disarmed! Never seen anything like it, the wand just flew from his hand and the Damon bloke, he just laughed. And that's how Riddle found out about Mental Channeling.”

“Mental Channeling?” Draco and Harry repeated in unison.

“Yes, that's what Damon called it. He explained that it was very ancient magic, magic that was used before wands were invented. He didn't go into great detail as to how it works, but he told him that it requires great powers of mental concentration to channel magic so it can be used wordlessly and without wand. He said it was a magic that exceeded anything modern day wizards could do because it was raw and natural. Of course, Riddle was fascinated, and it wasn't long before he pledged his allegiance to Damon in exchange for being trained.”

Harry heard Damon's words echo through his mind... I hope you are certain your supporters will wait loyally. Your return may take quite some time, and when you do return you will need to raise an army for the cause.

“Damon was trying to raise an army” Harry said slowly.

“Yes!” the drunk man shouted, almost exuberantly. “That part he did get into a bit more detail about. You see, he had recruited Riddle because he saw that he was incredibly ambitious, and Damon needed people like that. According to himself, he was training people across the world in Mental Channeling.”

“Bloody hell, for what purpose?” Harry said, suddenly fearful to think that there could be witches and wizards worldwide with exceptional powers and dark plans.

“He felt that the wizard world had grown weak. He did not share Riddle's concern for blood purity, but he did feel that magic had lost much of its strength, and that wizards were somehow less than they had been in days of old. Mostly though, he was fixated on restoring a sense of order to the wizard world. As he said, every hundred years or so some insane dark wizard or witch would rise to power and everything got flung to chaos. And to be honest, being as old as I am, he was quite right. The faces change, but the plot doesn't; world domination, mass murder, fear and destruction. Damon sought to bring greater power back to the wizarding world, to organize it somehow.”

“He wanted to control it like all the rest” Harry argued angrily.

“You say `wanted to' like it's in the past” Draco interjected. “But it's clear to me that the plot is still in motion. Wordless, wandless, untraceable magic was used to kill my parents, and is being used to kill any Death Eaters whom Voldemort was stupid enough to share his knowledge with. They are rising up; they are looking to take power and start `organizing'. And it starts with cleaning out anyone who may have the knowledge to oppose them.”

Harry tried to grasp this in his mind. If everything Draco was saying was true, there was a power out there that was greater than anything he had ever heard of, just lurking and waiting to rise for at least decades, but possibly centuries if the painting was right and Damon really was hundreds of years old.

It seemed insane, it seemed unreal... how could something so vast escape the attention of those like Albus Dumbledore, or the aurors for that matter? But it had been clearly kept a close secret. They had recruited only those who had the ambition and ability to raise their own rings, and each society was secret and loyal. Even the source of their magic, this “Mental Channeling” had been kept out of the books and away from common knowledge. And they would kill to keep it that way.

“They have been hunting down every Death Eater that ever knew Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort” Harry said slowly. “That's why they needed Hermione to unseal the records... there were still a few loose ends to tie up. They don't want any memories to exist of their power, even if it was just a whisper.”

“Exactly, so when they come to power, they will be able overthrow the rest of the wizarding world with very little struggle” Draco responded. Both men had ignored the drunken painting now, and were brooding into their nearly empty cups, trying to grasp the implications of this discovery. “But why have they waited so long? If Tom Riddle was trained, and he had the Death Eaters at his ready, we can presume there were many other factions around the globe equally prepared to rise up.”

Harry let this sink in before it called back another memory he had received from Voldemort's memories. The very last coherent memory before it all went berserk again... he had seen the Death Eaters through the eyes of not Tom Riddle, but Voldemort. Time had passed and he felt rush of power and the urge for violence but something else, something strange and almost out of place. “Disappointment” Harry nearly whispered. “Tom Riddle left a young man, prepared to learn the greatest magic of all time, but he returned Voldemort; a twisted monster who had grown in power but never mastered wandless magic. Voldemort never learned Mental Channeling, something went wrong.”

“And I bet whatever went wrong, he wasn't willing to be so loyal to Damon... if he ever was. I'll bet Voldemort decided he would create his own uprising right here in jolly old Britain.”

“Which is what slowed the whole thing down!” Harry added quickly. For the first time in what felt like ages, the shadowy pieces of a confusing puzzle were coming together to make a picture. Tom Riddle was recruited by Damon, who represented a network of powerful wizards and witches looking to seize control and reform the world of magic. Riddle was promised great power, but somewhere along the line his lessons failed, and he defected. Still, he grew in power and in his egotistical mind he decided he didn't need Damon or anyone else; he could rule it all alone. But in his rise to glory, he got in the way of Damon's quest.

“Damon was already old and wise, he could wait. They had been waiting for who knows how long, what was a few more decades?” Draco said as though reading Harry's thoughts. “He saw Riddle turn into Voldemort and lose whatever shades of sanity he had left. And Damon knew that it would waste resources to fight him. Even after Voldemort was defeated the first time, he still waited patiently.”

“Waited until all the horocruxes were gone” Harry agreed. “Then erased all evidence of any role he played in Voldemort's early days. Which means... they are planning to initiate the uprising soon.” Harry paled. Through this all, he had expected that at worst they were dealing with an unusually cunning vigilante mad man. He could never have predicted a conspiracy that went to this depth, with magic that far exceeded his understanding. This went way over his head, and having Draco Malfoy as his only ally in sorting it out was a dreadfully frightening realization. “They are rising up to take over... everything” he gasped, and then it hit him. If their first order of business was to exterminate all the Death Eaters from the early days, if it was their prerogative to erase all of the breadcrumbs that Harry and Draco had been chasing, there was only one person coming between them and their goal.

“Hermione” he choked, and before Draco could react Harry had disapparated.

Harry arrived in the middle of a field that should have been right outside of where the Burrow stood. Although it was now past midnight, he didn't need light to smell the charred wood in the air, and the stars provided just enough glow for him to see that Burrow had been burned to the ground.

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8. Chapter 8: Ashes to Ashes

CHAPTER 8: Ashes to Ashes

Harry fell to his knees in the night air. He had been chasing nightmares through the night for hours now, and it had all brought him to this moment. The Burrow was gone, utterly destroyed, and the silence was pervasive. Are they all dead? he wondered numbly, unable to even feel anything yet. The blast of seeing the Burrow burned to the ground was too painful, too horrific for him to sense anything other than a catatonic emptiness. A slow trembling began to shake him, and he slid further to the ground, his hands grasping desperately at the grass in the ground.

At first he thought he was shaking from nerves, but quickly he realized that the entire ground was shaking beneath him. He was making the ground tremble. He tried to get a hold of his emotions, but flashes of loss kept coming over him, and he felt an explosion within himself, so great that it radiated from him in the form of fire, scorching the grass all around him. He sat in the smoke as he slowly regained himself.

“What's happened to you Potter?” asked a deep voice that he had not been expecting. Kingsley Shacklebolt was approaching from the dark, his wand drawn.

“Are they dead?” Harry asked numbly, unable to care if Kingsley was going to kill him. “Put me out of my misery if they're dead, I can't bear to be alone.”

“I should put you out of your misery anyways” Kingsley said, but there was great sadness in his tone as he watched the young man kneeling before him in the grass, his world in ashes. “You are dangerous Potter, but there's been enough death for one night. And to be honest, after what we saw here tonight I don't know much about anything anymore.”

“Are they dead?” he whispered again.

“No Harry, they aren't dead. They managed to apparate from here during the attack. We lost a few aurors... O'Rourke included.” Harry thought of the fiery redheaded woman with her sharp comments and cat-like grace. He thought of all the cases they had faced together, and also the few nights he had spent in her bed. He thought of the way her kisses had tasted, and of the way she laughed, and her callous sense of humor. He wondered if she had ever known that he respected her, both as an auror and as a woman. Now he could never tell her, and that pained him deeply.

“The attackers used wandless magic” Kingsley said. “I don't know what we're up against here.”

“It's called Mental Channeling” Harry said numbly, rising to his feet. For a moment Kingsley seemed to reconsider letting Harry go, but slowly he lowered his wand. “These people... they are part of a very old order that is seeking to take control. Not just here, but all over the world. That's all I really know about them. They are going through great lengths to hide information about themselves, that's why they were killing the Death Eaters. Tom Riddle knew something about them, and they are erasing any memories that may exist.”

“Well, I hardly see the point now” Kingsley sighed. “We know all about them now; they made quite a grand display here.”

“You are probably right. Based on the destruction here, I would say they are just going to move on to the next phase of their plan; the take over. Which means nobody is safe.”

“We aren't ready to fight them” Kingsley admitted. “We barely made it out with our lives, some weren't even that lucky. It isn't just that the Mental Channeling makes them faster and unpredictable; they are trained to fight. We don't have enough aurors to protect the Ministry, much less anywhere else.... hell Harry, I don't know what to do.”

“They've been preparing for this for a long time. When they make their move, they will take over seamlessly. There will be no fighting this. When they decide it's time, I'm afraid we won't stand a chance.”

“Well we have to do something!” Kingsley said, pulling himself to his full height, a fire in his eyes that could be seen even under the dim stars. “We've fought evil before, we can do it again.”

“This isn't about good and evil” Harry sighed. “With Voldemort, we had the luxury of his insanity. I am starting to get a picture of this enemy in my mind, and it fucking scares me to be honest. They are patient, powerful, systematic and organized globally. Unlike Voldemort they aren't into the old blood and torture rituals... they have solid convictions about what the wizard world ought to be like. They will strip us of our freedoms and see it as good and just; not evil.”

“So we just lay down our wands?!” Kingsley bellowed, outraged.

“I don't know anymore about what to do than you do!” Harry responded, turning sharply on a man who was supposed to be his boss and leader. “I have no answers, I never have!” He had always been pointed and guided, and while he took on the leadership role very few of the actual ideas were his own. Harry's greatest strength had always been getting people to follow. But he didn't know where to lead them, and he didn't know where to turn for answers.

But where do I always turn for answers? he thought slowly. And once again, her name was in his mind. Hermione.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco didn't like being walked out on. Or in this case, apparated out on. He supposed he should feel glad; Potter was out of his hair and there was really no part of the Unbreakable Fucking Vow that required him to go off and search for him. But there was just one problem. With everything he had just learned from the drunken painting, Draco knew he was in well over his head. In fact, they all were.

He downed the rest of his refilled glass of Firewhiskey and helped himself to Harry's as well, and then he walked back out into Knockturn Alley. This whole time Draco's grand plan had simply been to track down his parents' murderer and exact revenge. It had been quite a basic plan, and he had hoped beyond hope that there was some sort of redemption to be had when it ended. Then there had been the ordeal of being arrested, and the added mess of Potter and the Unbreakable Fucking Vow, and now there was a worldwide conspiracy that went beyond simple murder. His classic revenge plot was quickly going up in smoke, and he wasn't sure what the next step ought to be.

He had a buzz going on as he walked, and he felt comforted by it. He didn't want to be entirely sober in this moment; it was all too much. He saw himself as having two options, and he needed to really weigh them both. Option one was the easy one. Should he go for option one, it would lead to him crawling back into obscurity. It would involve taking some of his Malfoy wealth and buying himself a bit of seclusion in another country where he could hide and go back to his books and meditation. This option had many temptations, but it did not solve the problem of having to live with himself. Could he bear to live out life knowing that he always was, and always would be a coward? After the war he had barely survived his own self-loathing, and he doubted he could survive it now, especially after his parents had been murdered.

Which brought about the second option. He could stick with Potter and figure out a way to fight. His Slytherin sensibilities told him that this option was a betrayal of himself, his family and his house. Still, he wondered what was the worse betrayal of self; slithering off like a snake to die alone in the silence of self loathing, or accepting that much had changed in him and he needed to learn to stand up and fight if he would ever be able to live with his past. With this in mind Draco determined that there was only one real option left, and standing around and pondering it further could be of no real use.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Harry had no doubt that the survivors had been clever and found a place to hide. The question was where. He tried to think like Hermione, but she had always been far smarter than himself, and so there was little hope in matching her intellect. So he tried to narrow down the options, and there was really only one place that stuck out as obvious in his mind.

He left the charred remains of The Burrow behind and apparated with Kinglsey to Grimmauld Place. It was dark and quiet inside as they stood in the front hallway. Harry strained to listen and slowly he could pick up on voices coming from the back of the house. He pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for Kingsley to follow, wands drawn. As they crept through the dusty house, the voices became more distinct.

“I don't feel comfortable staying here for more than a few days. Whoever these people are, they are clearly intelligent and organized. If they could find the Burrow with all its wards, they will also find Grimmauld Place. We have too much of a history here.”

Harry put his wand away and gestured for Kingsley to do the same. He opened the door to the kitchen, which was brightly lit, and it was inhabited by Ron, Molly, Arthur and Ginny Weasley. There was also Luna Lovegood, and of course, the owner of the voice he had been following; Hermione. They all jumped when he came through the door, but a look of relief on their all of their faces quickly followed. All except for Ron, whose expression was tight and difficult to gauge.

That hardly mattered however, because in a blur Hermione had thrown herself into his arms, holding him so tight he hardly thought he could breath. “Thank God you're here” she muttered into his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling a great swell of relief in the fact that she was alive, well and there with him. He hoped that he could convey his happiness and concern for her through their embrace, because words were currently escaping him. When she pulled away she gave him an odd look and he remembered his recently shaved head, which he now ran his hand over self-consciously.

A loud cough caused them to break apart, and this time when Harry met Ron's eyes he saw something that fell just short of hostility. “Cozy reunion, but what are you doing with Shacklebolt? Aren't you supposed to have some death warrant out?”

“It is clear that Harry is not the enemy here” Kingsley responded before Harry could collect his words. “I will admit that I do not trust that he is cured of whatever insanity possessed him before, but I need to trust him. If we can't trust each other in a time like this, we are truly without hope.”

“Draco Malfoy helped me” Harry explained, stepping back from Hermione and staring into the shocked eyes of those around him. “For whatever reason, Tom Riddle's memories were left in my mind. I have two consciousness' running around in my head; mine and that of Tom Riddle, better known as Voldemort. Those things I did, those things I said... they were coming from Riddle. Malfoy taught me how to control it. But Kingsley is right, if we are going to trust each other I need to be honest; I do not have total control. When I feel especially emotional I can still be dangerous.”

“Well, are you feeling `especially emotional' now that your new best mate Draco Malfoy seems to have gone missing?” Ron asked, venom in his tone.

“What are you getting at Ron? Malfoy and I made an unbreakable vow when we were locked up. He had learned to control his emotions through meditation; that is how he was able to handle Greyback's memories without going insane. He vowed to teach me to do the same if I would break us free.”

“Ah, so what, he teaches you a few lessons and you fall for the tutor? We KNOW you both broke into Malfoy Manor as a team. What the bloody hell were you thinking teaming up with that... that ARSEHOLE.”

Harry looked frustrated now, but he maintained composure. As Hermione watched things transpire she fully believed Harry's story; she had never seen him control his emotions so well. His job as an auror had taught him to stay closed lipped, but he could still lose his temper as easily as anyone else. “As part of the vow I made him promise that we would stick together to find his parents' murderer. He had been on a quest to avenge their deaths, and I was looking for the same people, but for different reasons of course. I wanted to stop them from harming Hermione.”

“Yes, yes, always the gallant hero” Ron spat, rising angrily from his chair. “Well, I'd say they quite found us first. Burned down the Burrow, killed your old girlfriend.”

Harry went rigid at this and Mrs. Weasley was the one to stand in anger this time. “Ronald Weasley, that is quite enough! This is a hard situation for us all and I am not proud of how you are reacting!” Harry remained stone silent, and Hermione grabbed his hand, trying to comfort him.

“Yes, protect him like you always do Hermione. But if we're being `honest' than I want to chime in. You made an unbreakable vow with a DEATH EATER. You sold out everything we stood for and fought for and made a deal with a man whose family served a legion that killed my brother!” Ron was shouting now, but his voice abruptly stopped with the loud sound of a slap. Ginny had risen from her chair and struck Ron hard across the face.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing Ronald?” she hissed. “Don't you dare bring Fred into this right now. We've all lost loved ones, or do you think we've forgotten them already? Whatever Harry did was in the interest of protecting us all. Isn't that what he's always done? He's supposed to be your best mate, and you're treating him like a criminal. Mom's right, you should be ashamed.”

Ron's eyes were watering, both from Ginny's stinging slap and from the emotions of the moment. He gave Harry one last look and quickly turned and walked from the room. Harry moved to follow him, but Hermione gently pulled him back. “Give it some time” she whispered, and so he slowly sunk into a seat at the table, her hand still in his. The room grew cold suddenly and she instinctively knew it was Harry unwittingly affecting the environment with his sorrow. This dual consciousness he was experience had altered his magic fundamentally, and it was clear he was still just barely in control of it.

After a moment of complete silence Harry spoke. He told them everything he knew including his ability to tap into Riddle's memories and what they had learned about Mental Channeling. He told them about the conspiracy to take over power, and how this was an attack long in the planning. When he was done the shock and fear on their faces was even greater than before. They looked positively stunned, and he wished there was some way he could spare them from what was to come.

“Let's sleep on this” Arthur said, breaking the quiet that threatened to drown them all. “We have been through a lot and I think emotions are running high. We can face this all better with some rest. Harry, this is your home. Would you mind us staying for the night?”

“After all the times you gave me a bed? You never have to ask, none of you” Harry said gravely. “Unfortunately, the beds aren't made up...”

“Oh I already handled that” Mrs. Weasley said. “From the looks of this place I've spent more time here than you have Harry.”

“Old ghosts” Harry shrugged. “I hope you'll excuse me while I get cleaned up. I haven't been sleeping in the cleanest of conditions.” He gave Hermione's hand a quick squeeze before letting it go and making his way heavily the stairs. Once he was clean he came back out to discover that everyone had found themselves a room to sleep in and the house was back to complete silence. He headed to his room, his head pounding and his muscles sore. Still, he wasn't sure if sleep would come.

Under the blankets he tried to close his eyes but all he could see was the world through Tom Riddle's eyes. He felt dizzy so he opened them back up and wondered where Malfoy had gone to after they had parted ways. He guessed that he had crawled away somewhere, and it would be a while until he'd ever see him again. Normally, he would feel quite satisfied having Malfoy out of his life, but there were still many things he wanted to ask him. Although they had only spent a few mostly silent weeks together, they had unturned a few stones together that he felt strange facing alone now.

At some point during his musings there was a light knock on his bedroom door and he sat up quickly, reaching for his stolen wand. “Harry, it's me” came a whisper that was very recognizable as Hermione Granger.

“Come in” he whispered, relaxing and sitting back down on the bed. She had changed her ash covered clothes for an old Quidditch t-shirt she must have found in one of the spare rooms, and a pair of Harry's shorts which she must have nicked while he was showering. He had forgotten that they would have no clean clothes with the Burrow having burned down, and he felt guilty for not being more hospitable, though he had little to offer at Grimmauld Place.

“I can't sleep” she informed him, walking over and sitting beside him.

“Me neither” he sighed. “Too much is happening. I'm sorry... we're back to hiding. I wish you could all have a normal life, you deserve so much more...”

“Stop Harry” she interrupted him. “You have been putting yourself on the line for us since you were a boy, and while I admire that about you, I've also seen it nearly kill you many times. None of this is your fault, none of it ever was. If anything, I'm the one putting people at danger here.”

There was such fatigue and anguish in her voice that it caught him off guard, and without thinking about his actions he pulled her into his arms, hoping that some closeness would remind her that they were alive, and that was all that mattered for now. “I don't think they're going to be looking for just you anymore Hermione” he assured her, his face buried in her hair. “They're been planning to rise up for decades, and now that we know about them they will come for everyone.”

“Which is why we need to find out more about them first” she responded, curling up closer to him, trying not to fixate on how much she had missed him. She told him about her conversation with Luna, and the possibility that they had a lead on a suspected attacker.

He mused over this a moment, simply holding her in the dark. “You're brilliant” he muttered. “Leave it to you to give us a ray of hope in such a short period of time.”

She could have kissed him that moment, but she didn't. Still, this was one of the many things she loved about Harry; his ability to work through dangerous and deadly circumstances and come up with a plan. The two of them had always fed off of each other's ideas and inspirations. While Hermione was often deemed as being the cleverest of the trio, she secretly felt it wouldn't be so if she hadn't had Harry to give her confidence. “They may not attempt another attack for a while” she said quickly. “If they were able to patiently await for you to deal with their Voldemort problem, they're likely to take their time planning on a way to eliminate us. Also, now that we've escaped their first attack they may think we're more powerful than they expected. They may also think that you're a major threat to be handled with caution...the Daily Prophet caught wind of your condition and they have been running articles ever since. Of course, the Ministry has also put out an award for your capture.”

“I saw that” he mumbled, remembering the posters in Knockturn Alley.

“Everyone thinks you're working with Draco Malfoy and that may throw them off as well.”

“We were working together” Harry reminded her.

“True” she admitted, yawning. She still felt uneasy about Harry's strange alliance with his boyhood rival. It was one thing to hate each other on the Quidditch pitch and to throw insults across the classroom, but Malfoy had led to Dumbledore's death and she believed him to be mercurial and dangerous. She remembered his insane Aunt Belletrix and shuddered to think that some of that madness might run in Draco's blood as well.

“I need to ask a favor of you” Harry said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Of course” she responded, and the words came out so quickly and naturally that he felt a bit touched. Even after all they had been through together, her devotion to him was still a surprise.

“If you get some time to research, I'd like to see if you can find anything more about my condition... my shared consciousness with Tom Riddle.”

“Why do you keep referring to him as Tom Riddle?” She asked, and the question caught him off guard. “Why not Voldemort?”

He paused for a moment, considering the question for the first time. “I don't know exactly. When I hear his voice in my mind, it's always from when he was young. But I seem to have all of his memories, from birth to death. Not that I can organize them of course. It may sound crazy, but somehow I feel like he prefers to think of himself as he was when he was young.”

Damon's words from one of Riddle's memories drifted through his mind once more. “...these horocruxes are taking a toll on that youthful beauty. Dark magic is said to do that you know.”

She chimed in interrupting his reverie. “Perhaps part of Voldemort's consciousness was imprinted onto you during the final battle. It makes sense why you feel his emotions and share his memories, and why he reacts to yours. It's like he's a passenger in a vehicle and you're in the driver's seat. All he can do is speak up occasionally or react to what you do, but he can't completely control the ride.”

“But if he's in there, I mean really, fully in my head, what's to stop him from growing stronger and taking over?”

“I don't know Harry” she said, worriedly biting her lip as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe it's just a weak copy of who he was, a shadow. There's also the question of why now? It's been five years since you defeated him, why did it take so long for his presence to start effecting you? I'll do everything I can to find out more.”

After a few moments they moved apart from each other and laid down on the bed, both staring up at the ceiling. “I'm sorry about O'Rourke” Hermione said in a trembling voice, tears finally winning the fight. “I grew to respect her, and I know she cared deeply about you.”

“Caring about me... one of the top causes of fatalities in the UK” he said bitterly.

Hermione wanted to say that O'Rourke's death had nothing to do with Harry but it wasn't entirely true. O'Rourke had come into the house to try and get them to safety, and Hermione secretly knew she did it partly out of duty but also because she loved Harry, and cared about his friends by extension. Hermione recalled the night she had gotten drunk with O'Rourke, and the auror's expression when Hermione called her out on being in love with Harry Potter. She also remembered O'Rourke's jealousy and her certainty that there was something between Harry and Hermione; that Harry was in love with his best friend. O'Rourke had never gotten to tell Harry about her own feelings, and probably never would have. Pride would have always come in the way. Thinking of this made Hermione feel suddenly guilty about laying so close to him now, and so she kissed Harry softly on the cheek, bid him goodnight and went to sleep alone.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

The morning was something of an intense experience. They had all wordlessly reconvened in the kitchen to go over the plan. All except for Ron. Despite the absence of the third part of the Golden Trio, Hermione proceeded to discuss her plans for traveling to Paris to speak with Luna's source.

“I'll need you to go with me Luna” Hermione continued, and Luna simply nodded, as though she'd been expecting this.

“I'll go too” Ginny offered. “I have spent some time in France with my Quidditch matches and may be of use.”

Harry looked terse, and Hermione expected him to offer to travel with them, but what he said instead came as a great surprise to everyone. “I need to find Draco Malfoy” he announced, to the great surprise of everyone. “I think we need to find the place where Damon sent Tom Riddle to learn about Mental Channeling. I think that knowledge will be key to any hopes we have of winning if it does come to war.”

“We can't trust him Harry” Ginny said, her voice tense but not angry. “Ron may have overreacted last night, but it doesn't change who Malfoy is and what he did.”

“I know Ginny” Harry said patiently. “But we have a storm coming that's beyond our abilities. Between Greyback's memories and his resources, Malfoy knows things that we don't have the luxury of wasting weeks to research. Something tells me he will still be valuable, and I hope you can just trust me on this.”

“I do trust you Harry” Ginny said in a small tone, and her parents nodded in agreement. “It's just that I worry about what this will do to your relationship with Ron.”

“Let me handle that” Harry said in a tired tone. “Hermione, Ginny and Luna, you should travel the muggle way. They're a lot less likely to find you that way. Just blend in, act like tourists.”

“I don't like us all splitting up like this” Hermione said nervously.

“We'll be fine” Harry said, and the assuredness in his tone gave her confidence. His gaze met hers and she saw a light of determination that gave her strength. It was strange how he could make her feel stronger with a simple look. She departed with Ginny and Luna to make plans in the study and that left just Harry, Arthur and Molly at the table.

“Harry, I know we'd be fools not to trust you at this point, but this business with Draco Malfoy does worry me” Arthur said after a beat. “Molly and I will need to stay in London to help Kingsley with ministry matters, and it makes me nervous to think that the lives of my children as well as those of Luna, Hermione and yourself, partly lay in trusting a Malfoy. How do you know it's not the... the Tom Riddle part of your brain that is deciding to keep him involved? Someone must have leaked the information about Hermione being at the Burrow. What if it was him?”

“I never told Malfoy about the Burrow” Harry said calmly. “I need him as a resource, that doesn't mean I trust him. I don't think I could ever trust someone like him. But right now he's unfortunately the best ally I have for finding out where Riddle went during the time period he was missing. If you've ever trusted me, trust me on this; I will not let Draco Malfoy know a single shred of information more than he absolutely has to. And if he becomes a threat or tries to cross me, I will put him down.” His words were heavy but they seemed to be what the Weasleys needed to hear, and they both nodded, a sad look of acceptance in their eyes. “You do make a good point about who snitched on the hideout location at the Burrow. You'll need to work with Kingsley to see if you can find out if we have a mole. I know it wouldn't be anyone in your family, and I trust Luna implicitly. So it may be another auror, or maybe someone with high level clearance at the ministry. Please look into it, and we should all keep things very quiet from here on out.”

There was a long and uncomfortable pause as Harry tried to find the words for the other matter he wanted to discuss with them. “I am sorry about the Burrow.”

Mrs. Weasley sprung from her seat almost the exact moment the words left Harry's mouth. “Harry, you have nothing to be sorry for” she said, wrapping him in a motherly hug that he suddenly realized he was in desperate need of.

“We're just glad you're okay son” Mr. Weasley added, standing as well to clap Harry on the shoulder. “Molly and I have survived two wars now, and we've lost a lot but we know when it's time to face what's coming. You can rely on us.”

Having spoken to the Weasley parents, Harry was left to find his best mate, who was sulking in his room, pacing loudly. Harry entered without knocking (it was his house after all) and Ron gave him a scathing look but said nothing.

“We need to talk” Harry said simply. “I understand you don't trust Malfoy. I don't either. But I'm trying to do everything I can with the cards that have been dealt to us.”

“Does it ever occur to you you might not make the best decisions Harry?” Ron spat back.

Harry felt taken aback with a wave of hurt. “Of course it does. I basically got Sirius killed... and Hermione for that matter. And I've probably made choices that have put many others in great peril. I don't like being the decision maker Ron, but something need to be done and I--”

“What was Hermione doing in your room last night?” Ron barked, cutting Harry off quickly.

“What? What has this got to do with anything?”

“I came to talk to you, I realized that I was being a hothead, and I see our best friend coming out of your bedroom. Imagine my surprise! If you two are fucking, think you could have told me? Or is Draco Malfoy your new confidant?”

“Ron, even if we were `fucking' as you put it, it wouldn't be any of your business. You go around having your way with every female who has nice tits and gives you a smile, I hardly think you have any right to judge my love life” Harry felt himself struggling to control his anger just then and little whispers of Riddle floated around in his mind, feeding off of the hostility. Kill him. Show him no mercy. Paint the floor in his blood. He took a deep breath and slowly regained himself before speaking once more. “Anyways, there's nothing between Hermione and I. She came to talk over things. I don't know if you noticed, but we're in crisis mode, so why the bloody hell are we talking about this?”

Ron looked flustered and embarrassed. He had thought he had long gotten over his jealousy when it came to Harry, and that he had learned to become more mellow and accepting. But the reality was that after the war he had just covered his grief and confusion in a life of spending money and having meaningless sex. When he found out that Harry had teamed up with Draco Malfoy, many emotions came spilling out that had been repressed for years. Feelings of anger and hate, of irreplaceable loss and a burning desire for vengeance. Ron was ashamed to admit to himself that he had not grown up, that he was still capable of letting his emotions overcome the needs of his friends.

He sat down heavily on the bed. “I'm sorry” was all he said.

Harry didn't indicate any sympathy, simply standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Hermione, Luna and Ginny are planning to go to Paris to follow a lead. You should go as well, there's strength in numbers. I'd like for you to come with me to find out more about where Riddle went, but I want you to watch over everyone. Also, I'm afraid that if you keep pushing me I'll lose my control and do something regrettable. So go to Paris, and no more kid stuff Ron. We've fought together many times, I know I can count on you, but I need you to GROW UP.”

Ron merely nodded his head, not looking up to see the expression on Harry's face. He felt there had been some sort of crucial test and he had failed it. He heard Harry walk away, and he resolved that he would do his best to let it happen again.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco had gone to a place where he felt quite certain Harry Potter would be likely to come looking, if in fact the Boy Who Lived had any interest in seeking out his former school days enemy. He couldn't say exactly why he was certain Harry would come here, but it simply seemed obvious. He tried to calm his mind as he felt the cool morning breeze caress his face. He had watched the sunrise and it reminded him of a simpler time when he had snuck to this exact spot and lost his virginity to Astoria Greengrass and they had watched the sun come up together.

Such innocent times felt so far behind him. Times when he hadn't been bound by a sense of cowardice and self loathing, when he had felt pride in his family name and confidence in his future. He wondered what young Draco would think if he could see himself now; tired, filled with regrets and waiting for Harry Potter to help him save the world.

It was pitiful, but all other options seemed even more so. “Life was much more simpler then” Draco whispered as though addressing his past self. The words were lost to the wind.

There were approaching footsteps coming up the stairs, and Draco knew Potter had arrived. Once more he experienced the strange sensation of recognizing the sound of Harry's approach. “I was wondering if you would find me here Potter.”

“I figured you would come to this place if you wanted to be found” Harry shrugged, sitting in the row just behind Draco's left shoulder. “This was our battleground.”

“Yes” Draco said with a slow smile, looking out across the quidditch field that was now bright with the morning light. “Back when fights were all about a snitch, and not about people dying. I used to think there was glory in death; my father placed that notion in my head. I've learned I was wrong.”

“Death is but the next great adventure to the well organized mind” Harry said, quoting Dumbledore. “I died once. It wasn't so bad.”

“Not for you” Draco snorted. “You probably had all sorts of loving family members and friends patiently awaiting your arrival. Saint Potter, finally done with his war. I can't imagine the judgment I will face.”

Feel some remorse Tom Harry thought, remembering his words to Voldemort. “You may be alright” Harry shrugged. “You came here looking to continue this fight I take it.”

“It's about more than revenge now” Draco admitted. “I've learned too much to simply buy myself some peace of mind this time.” Harry nodded, even though Draco couldn't see him. He had decided he needed to put some level of trust Draco Malfoy, and while that had been a difficult decision there was more bonding them than just the oath now. There was a common need to save the world. So he proceeded to explain how he was planning to find out more about where Tom Riddle had gone to, but he left out the details about Paris and the attack at the Burrow. He only wanted to let Malfoy know the bare minimum of details.

Draco sensed that Harry was holding something back, but he decided not to pursue the issue. He didn't trust Potter either, and was quite certain that if things got rough Harry Potter would leave him hanging out to dry in a heart beat. Still, Draco had made a decision to see things through and that would mean having to stomach Saint Potter for a while longer, so he swallowed his pride with some difficulty.

They lapsed into silence for some time, watching the sun's rays shift in spectrum slowly as the sun made itself visible. Since he was eleven Harry had always hoped there would be a time when things would settle and become normal. A day where he could wake up for a usual 8 hour work day not worrying about being killed, go out to a normal dinner with friends on a Friday night, and fall asleep peacefully next to a girl who he wouldn't have to worry about bringing into harms way. The peace had never come, only more war. He had never wanted to be a soldier. Then again, it had never mattered what he wanted.

“Well, we best get to it” Draco said after he felt enough silent reverie had passed. “If we don't start moving who knows how bloody long we'll get caught up here. And then you won't want to leave, you'll be all concerned about protecting your precious friends.”

“That's not true, I know when it's time to leave and face the inevitable, and I know my friends are perfectly capable of watching over themselves.”

“Hmph, that's rubbish and you know it Potter. How many times did the Mudblood and the Weasel convince you to take them along into the line of fire? You could hardly wipe your nose without their help.”

“Things have changed. I've changed. Since the war, it's only been me fighting, and I will do everything to keep it that way.”

“Not when they beg and plead with you. Subconsciously, you would much rather have Granger sorting out the mysteries of the world by your side than me. You'll let her come along, which will mean Weasley will have to come too. We can't be slowed down by your emotions on this, emotions which you are far from learning to fully control.”

“No, I'd rather be working with you Malfoy, because if you die I could care less” Harry calmly replied. “And I can control my emotions more than you even realize.” Draco had nothing to say to this and a long pause ensued. “You may be right though. If I go say farewells it will be harder to leave, and time is precious. I'll send an owl from Hogwarts now letting them know I won't be back for a while.”

“Fine, go write your bloody love letters” Draco said with a condescending drawl. “Then we start looking deeper into those memories.”

******************************

Author's Note: Sorry I had to split the trio up again! Allow me to assure you that it won't last for too long. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, please keep the reviews coming!!

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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9. Chapter 9: A Journey Through Time and Space

CHAPTER 9: A Journey Through Time and Space

Hermione looked out the plane window as they passed through the clouds, leaving the moon on one side and meeting the city lights on the other. The lights looked like little pin pricks against a dark backdrop at first, but as they drew closer to the ground she could start to make out streets and buildings and eventually even cars. There was a slight rumble as they decreased in elevation and Ron woke up with a start in the seat in front of her.

“Are we gonna die??” He half shouted, his voice thick from sleep. Hermione had given him something to help him fall asleep, as he was extremely fearful of getting into what he referred to as a “giant flying metal death trap”. Ron had never flown in an airplane before but Hermione had agreed with Harry's logic that it would be best for them to travel the muggle way to avoid detection and so she had coerced him into getting on board. It was rather humorous that he felt perfectly at home straddling a piece of limber far above the ground, but was terrified by the concept of an airplane. Luna and Ginny were equally unfamiliar with aircrafts, but neither of them had shown the same symptoms of aerophobia. In fact, Luna had been quite excited to try out the new experience.

For Hermione, arranging for muggle transportation hadn't been difficult. Flying was the most direct method, and the flight was only about an hour and a half, but even such a short trip had Ron terrified and thus she had drugged him which had aptly managed the situation until now.

“Are we going to crash?” he repeated, struggling to clear his groggy brain. “I knew this aeroplane thing was a terrible idea.” He was seated next to Luna and Hermione watched as the former Ravenclaw took Ron's hand and said a few soothing words. Surprisingly Ron calmed down, still sitting rigid in his seat but no longer shouting. After a few minutes he gave Luna an appreciative smile, which she returned in kind. While watching this transpire Hermione realized that Luna was actually quite pretty dressed in muggle clothing. It had been a bit of a struggle to teach Luna how to dress like a normal muggle. Luckily, Hermione had inspected her bags before they departed and found an odd assortment of feathered boas, top hats, overalls, and even a tutu. Clearly the whimsical girl had no idea what constituted muggle fashion so Hermione had lent her some things.

Ron was surprisingly better at packing as he had adopted a muggle sense of style through Harry and Hermione over the years. And Ginny of course, had a larger muggle wardrobe than even Hermione did. The girl loved to shop.

In the last few minutes of the plane landing, Hermione once more gazed at a crumpled piece of parchment that Harry had sent to her by owl before they left. She had assumed he would at least come and see them off in person, but she knew him so well that she could easily determine the true reason for his abrupt goodbye. He was afraid of hurting anyone. He still didn't trust his instable magic, but mostly Harry Potter always felt that his proximity to anyone directly correlated with their death/pain/great suffering. Sadly, there was some dark, unfair truth to that viewpoint. Nevertheless, for reasons she couldn't quite grasp she was rather saddened that instead of a hug goodbye she had gotten an owl with a shoddily written note.

It read:

I am sorry I will not be able to see you and the others off, but it has come to my attention that time is of the essence and I should start looking deeper into these memories I have stuck in my head. It's been a curse to deal with, but maybe it'll be a blessing in disguise if I can find something useful from it about Damon and about his organization.

Stay safe. I'd tell you to act smart but you always do.

That was simply all it had said. He hadn't even signed it and yet she kept reading it over and over again, like it held some secret message.

As they touched down on the landing strip the color gradually returned to Ron's face and they gathered their luggage and left the airport. It was late in the night but there were plenty of cabs waiting outside and Hermione took the lead in requesting that the cab driver take them to a muggle hotel where she had made reservations. Her French was rusty but the man didn't seem to have any trouble understanding her and soon they were on their way, Hermione in the passenger seat and the other three in the back.

“I didn't know you spoke French” Ginny commented as they headed down the highway, bright streetlights flashing past.

“A little bit. I vacationed in France a few times with my family.”

“We could fill a book with the things that surprise us about Hermione” Ron said, and when Hermione looked back she could see that he was grinning.

“You seem awfully happy for someone who just thought he was about to fall from the sky and burn to death just moments ago” Hermione commented.

“I'm happy to be off that plane... and also, this car reminds me of the time Harry and I just about destroyed the Ford Anglia.” Ron was careful not to mention that it was a flying car in the presence of the driver in case the man understood English.

“I could have killed you both if I wasn't so happy to see you alive” Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I think Mum and Dad felt just about the same way” Ginny responded, and soon they were all laughing, even Luna. It feels good to laugh Hermione realized, and she felt a little bit lighter by the time they were exiting the cab and heading into the hotel.

The hotel was simple; low key and out of the way of any major foot traffic, and thus it was a perfect place to stay to avoid attracting attention. The young woman stationed at the front desk was half awake when they arrived but she did her best to chipper up as they checked in to their two adjoining rooms.

“I am not staying in the same room as Ron” Ginny announced. As they headed up to their room. “He snores terribly.”

“I know” Hermione responded, and then felt awkward for a moment as she recalled a brief time when they used to sleep together and she would have to silence him to get a night of rest. There were also all those nights the three of them had spent in the tent, chasing the horocruxes, which was an even more uncomfortable memory

“I'll sleep with Ronald. I mean, I'll sleep in the same room as him” Luna offered, and if she was embarrassed by her slip up she did not indicate it. “Tomorrow morning my source will meet with us at a nearby cafe for brunch.”

“So I guess we should just try to get some sleep” Ginny sighed, flinging her bag onto the nearest bed and then calling the first shower. Hermione thought the idea of sleep sounded like a marvelous luxury that she hadn't been afforded in quite some time. She laid down on the other bed and stared up at the ceiling, wanting to give into her fatigue but feeling guilty that she ought to be doing something else, something more. Harry had asked her to find out everything she possibly could about incidences of shared-consciousness but she didn't have a library handy and having already perused the few books she packed on the flight, she didn't think they'd offer any insights. Maybe I should write to Madam Pince and have her pull some books out on similar topics for me to read when we get back...

But the thought never reached finality, because as Ginny turned on the shower Hermione's eyes fell closed like heavy curtains and she was fast asleep, still fully clothed.

************************

Harry had been trying to reach into Riddle's memories to find out where he had gone to learn about Mental Channeling. The closest he had gotten was slipping back into the memory of meeting Damon, and he kept hearing the mysterious stranger's words over and over again...

“I am sending you to the place where it all started for me...”

Feeling exhausted and frustrated Harry opened his eyes and removed himself from his seated position in the middle of the same field where he had last gone to navigate through the memories. Frowning he trudged back to the same drafty castle that he and Malfoy had been staying at before. When he arrived the blonde haired man was still meditating and Harry had to clear his throat loudly a few times to get him to focus.

“Back already Potter? Talk about a lack of self control.”

“I was out there for twelve hours!” Harry growled, kicking aimlessly at some of the rubble that had fallen from the ceiling during Malfoy's temper tantrum. “I'm getting nowhere. Have you had any luck?”

Malfoy frowned and gracefully leapt down from atop the massive chunk of stone he'd been sitting on. “No. If I was trying to recall memories of tearing people's throats out with my bare teeth or howling at the moon than we would be golden. I haven't been able to find anything useful about Tom Riddle.”

“So we're at another dead end. The diary is useless since he kept no record of that part of his life. History books don't have any clue about where he went. Whatever memories Riddle has of that time period are buried deep. Mostly anyone he may have told about it has been murdered, or else he didn't give them enough information to be of use to us. Maybe we're just wasting our time. Maybe we should be looking for Damon himself...”

“How exactly do you propose we do that? We have a first name, which may not even be his real name. We know nothing about him except that he is a possibly immortal, powerful wizard who can do wandless, wordless magic and has been planning world domination for decades. I highly doubt a guy like that is listed in the directory at the Ministry of Magic.”

“Okay, so what do you suppose we do since you're so fucking brilliant?” Harry countered, starting to have a hard time managing his agitation.

“Well, there is one option I have been pondering, but it's dangerous, possibly deadly and may not even give us the results we want.”

“Well that sounds perfect then!” Harry replied, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Draco ignored him. “There's a potion called Odyssea that I read about that allows you to interact with your subliminal consciousness in a very direct way. Actually, it's a bit like having a drug trip that brings you on a journey of your consciousness.”

“So, you want us to do drugs and see if that helps? You really are beyond brilliant Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged. “If you're too much of a wimp to try it, I understand. Theoretically, it should allow us to control these memories for a while. I could get a better look at Greyback's conversations with Riddle and you could maybe see where Damon sent Riddle off to.”

“Theoretically” Harry huffed. He didn't like the idea of going on a drug trip with the former Slytherin and Death Eater, but he certainly wasn't seeing any other options of merit. “What would we need to create this potion?”

“I have all the ingredients, but we'll need to go back to Malfoy Manor.”

“How do we know Malfoy Manor is a safe place to be at? Your parents were killed there…”

“I don't need you to remind me of that” Draco responded sharply. “There are very ancient wards that we did not have activated when that incident occured. We thought we were safe so we never bothered to re-activate them. I will do that first thing, but you'll have to get rid of the bloody aurors that are still squatting there.”

“Fine, I'll have Kingsley order the aurors to leave the property. He's back on my side. Not that the rest of the ministry is, so we'll still need to go unseen.”

“That's fine, there are plenty of ways for a Malfoy to sneak into his own house. And once we get there, we'll have a lovely little spirit journey drug trip.”

**********************

Ron was trying to sleep but he was in a strange bed in a strange country and every time he closed his eyes he saw the silhouette of the Burrow burning to the ground, the orange flames swallowing his childhood home whole whilst the black night sky watched unfeelingly. After tossing and turning for a few minutes he flipped the light on next to his bed to find something to read or occupy his mind with, but all he found was a Bible written in French. The was a vision-telly thing in the room, but he had no idea how to use it and besides, the few times he had tried to watch one he found it rather boring.

He sighed and stared back up at the ceiling, noting how there was a small dent in the white plaster that looked a bit like a rabbit. He tried to look for other shapes in the uneven ceiling, but mostly he tried to not think about the Burrow burning down, or the risk they all might be facing soon, or what Harry had said to him before they'd gone their separate ways.

I need you to GROW UP.

The words had been echoing through his head since they had left Harry's mouth, and even when they had booked the flight and even when he was sure he was about to die in a horrific crash, those words still lingered. What bothered him wasn't that Harry was mad at him. They had gotten mad at each other loads of times, and they had argued and fought and said regrettable things. They were like brothers in that respect, and like brothers, they always found a way to forgive each other and move on.

No, Ron wasn't losing sleep because Harry was mad. He was losing sleep because he knew the words rang true. Ever since the war I have been hiding out behind money, girls and fame. I've been acting selfish and childish true, but now that I realize all that, I realize how scared I really am to stop hiding....

“You look like a wheezing bizzle stole all of your happiness” Luna Lovegood said, causing him to jump as she strode across the room in nothing but a towel.

He tried to avert his eyes but it was already too late, the image of her being nearly naked was in his mind now, and he realized with a start that he much preferred this new image to the one of his family home burning down. He turned on his side to prevent himself from attempting another peak, and he heard her rummaging through her luggage.

“Keep your back turned, I'm getting dressed” she notified him, and that made him feel even more hot and bothered. Well, not bothered exactly he conceded to himself.

As he tried to distract his thoughts he recalled all the times during the horocrux hunt that Hermione had told the boys to turn around while she changed. Not that I didn't end up seeing everything eventually anyways he contemplated with a great surge of discomfort towards his wandering mind. Their romantic relationship had been short and not very healthy. After the war they were moving in different directions even more so than they ever had before. She was obsessed with helping to make changes in the ministry, and he was obsessed with ignoring everything serious and adult-like. Thus their fighting hit new levels of intensity, which was why it sometimes surprised him that they had ever reached a level of intimacy. It had only been a few times and then they broke it off shortly afterwards. Only a few times but still memorable he found himself recalling. He had long acknowledged that his feelings towards her were still complicated.

First I start getting flustered over Luna and now I'm thinking about my ex-girlfriend/current best friend in compromising terms. I really am childish!

“You can turn around now” Luna said, snapping Ron back to reality. “So are you going to tell me why the wheezing bizzle stole your happiness?”

“I don't think it was a wheezing bizzle” he responded, smiling in spite of himself. When he was younger he had found her quirky nature a bit overwhelming, but lately he'd been finding it a refreshingly comical.

“Then allow me to ask the direct question Ronald. Why are you so sad?”

“Well, the house I grew up in, the place that held all my most cherished childhood dreams was burned to the ground by an anonymous group of psychopaths who are allegedly hell bent on taking over not just Britain this time, but the entire world.”

He looked at Luna now as she sat crossed legged on the other bed. The yellowish light of the bedside lamp was shining against her blonde hair and he suddenly realized that he had never noticed that she was quite pretty. The girls he usually “courted” consisted of tanned skinned beauties with big bosoms, lots of makeup and expensive wardrobes. Luna was none of those things. She was dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas and her hair was still wet from the shower. She had no makeup on and he now tried to reflect if he'd ever seen her wear any. Her skin was pale but her complexion was very clear and her eyes were an intriguing silver-grey shade that seemed to twinkle as she thought. As for her bosom... well, it wasn't Play Wizard big (usually courtesy of enlargement charms as he'd found out) but it wasn't bad either.

Great, now I'm staring at her breasts he realized, quickly looking away from her and back up at the ceiling.

If she noticed that he had been checking her out she gave no indication, simply continuing to consider what he had said about the Burrow. “It is very sad that your home burned down. It was very lovely. They may be able to rebuild it one day, when all of this is over. Magic can do miraculous things. Yes, it can destroy, but it can also rebuild.”

He had expected some wacky response from Luna and was stunned by the wisdom in her words. “How is it that after everything we've seen... everything that was done to you during the war... you can still have such optimism?”

“Do you mean when I was captured or when the erumpent horn blew my house up?”

“Erumpent horn? I thought you were convinced that it belonged to a crumply snorlack or something...”

She gave him a mischievous smile unlike he'd ever seen on her before. He liked it instantly. “Ronald, the truth is that the more I study to become a wizarding naturalist, the more I've discovered that many of the creatures my father believes in aren't real.”

“So why do you keep talking about them?”

The twinkle returned to her eye. “You asked me how I can still be optimistic after everything? Well Ronald, I think that just believing in something, even when you know it is unlikely or unreal, that is what gives us hope.”

*************************

“I'm really starting to have second thoughts about this” Harry frowned, staring down at the smoking, chunky green potion that Malfoy had shoved in front of him.

“You were already having second thoughts” Draco responded disdainfully.

“Well, now I'm having third thoughts” Harry retorted, slowly becoming convinced that Malfoy was trying to poison him. They were standing at a massive island table in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor. Kingsley had dismissed all of the auror patrols so they could enter without being seen (and also without having to knock the poor guards out again). Kingsley had also returned their wands, noting that he was not 100% sure that Harry and Draco weren't secretly planning something diabolical, but also noting that he didn't see another option except to hope Harry was going to try to save them all (again).

Draco had been glad that Harry refused to go back down into the dungeon while he brewed the Odyssea potion that now sat bubbling in front of them. Harry would have only distracted him with his pacing and whining, and it was a complicated potion that required perfect concentration. Once he had finished brewing it, he had found Potter wandering aimlessly around the Manor and had insisted that they go into the kitchen to drink it. Why he chose this room, he couldn't say for certain. He'd hardly spent any time in it unless he was kicking the House Elves around and ordering them to make him something.

“What if you brewed it wrong?” Harry asked, looking pale as he stared into the ghastly concoction.

“I didn't” Draco promptly responded.

“You are awfully sure of yourself.”

“Potter, I was always better at potions than you, and after the war, while you were off posing for the Daily Prophet and playing the role of Saint I was perfecting the craft. Even Snape would have a hard time measuring up with all I've learned.”

“Snape studied potions his whole life, you spent five measly years with a chemistry set in your parents' basement. I hardly think you can compare yourself to him.”

Draco ground his teeth, having to use all of his skills of meditation to avoid getting angry and possibly setting off his randomly emergent wandless magic. “Listen Potter, we have to drink this while it's still hot or I can assure you you'll be experiencing some side effects that are none-too-pleasant. Are we going to do this or not?”

“You first” Harry scowled, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.

“Fine” Draco sighed, and he quickly picked up the beaker tube that he had set out before him and took a long swig. It was truly disgusting and his stomach instantly tried to reject it but he forced it to stay down. Malfoys do not vomit he reminded himself. “See, I'm fine.”

Harry still looked wary, but he followed in suit, making a wretched face as he swallowed the rest of the potion down. “That was even grosser than the Polyjuice Potion.”

“When the fuck did you drink a polyjuice potion?” Draco asked, feeling slightly lightheaded from the Odyssea, but not fully realizing its effects yet.

Harry gave Draco a strange smile, and there was a twinkle of humor in his eye that Draco had never seen before and that he certainly did not like. “I used it in our second year” was all he said.

“How did you even get it?” Draco demanded, not sure he wanted to hear the full story.

“Hermione made it” Harry shrugged, and he was feeling lightheaded and a little giddy so he grabbed a stool and sat down on it.

“Hermione Granger made Polyjuice Potion when she was in her second year?!” Draco was incredulous, perhaps a bit more so than usual thanks to the Odyssea now coursing through his body.

“Well, she is a genius” Harry said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco felt like he was floating so he decided to hoist himself onto the countertop, his legs dangling from the edge, his hands resting comfortably by his sides. “I don't hate her, at least not anymore” Draco said, and some part of his consciousness was infuriated by the words that were floating from his mouth. Yet he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he was telling the truth; that the drug was bringing the truth from some deeply hidden part of his consciousness. “I am envious of her. My family had many high expectations of me, and I tried my hardest to be the best in each class, tried my best to prove myself worthy. But she always outshone me and she was muggle born, and that disgusted me. But what I said that time about enjoying seeing her be tortured... it wasn't true. I just needed to make you angry, and it's clear to me that she is your Achilles heel.”

“How is it so clear to you?”

“I'm good at reading people” Draco shrugged. “We all have our gifts, even if yours constantly outshine everyone else's.”

“I thought you would say that it's because I wear my emotions on my sleeves.”

“No, you don't actually. I mean, you're pretty obvious about your affection for your friends and your need to be a Saint all the time and your obsession with honor and bravery and all that shit. But I'm realizing that you hide some things quite well. Like your sadness. Or the truth about what you were up to the other night when you suddenly vanished from that bar in Knockturn Alley.”

“Well, I don't think you need any `gift' in reading people to know that I don't trust you Malfoy. I can tell you've changed, and it's clear that you're desperate to redeem yourself somehow. Why is that I wonder? Do you believe there's a heaven Malfoy? Are you trying to buy your way in by doing some good deeds?”

Draco laughed out loud at this question, and Harry realized he had never heard Malfoy's actual laugh. As schoolboys Malfoy had displayed plenty of nasty chuckles, and even some over exaggerated guffawing at someone else's expense, but he had never never heard the Slytherin offer a genuine laugh. “Honestly Potter, I don't know if there's an afterlife, but if there is I don't want to be going there as a coward. You're the one who claimed to have died, you tell me, if there an afterlife?”

“Yes” Harry said plainly, and he suddenly looked disinterested in the topic.

“Yes? That's all, just yes?”

Harry shrugged. “This Odyssea doesn't seem to be working. All I feel is a floating sensation and an overwhelming urge to spill my guts to you like two teenaged girls at a slumber party.”

“Truth or Dare Potter?” Draco joked, and suddenly the two found themselves laughing uproariously.

“Next you're going to be braiding my hair” Harry choked out between laughs.

“You don't have any hair to braid Potter!” Draco responded, and all of his inhibitions about sounding silly were gone. “You went and chopped it all off and you look like a psycho now!”

“Do I?” Harry asked, looking aghast as he reached for his nonexistent locks.

“You've always lacked a sense of fashion but you've really taken the war hero look too far. It's so short I can see every scar on your lumpy skull. Let me cut it for you so I don't have to look at it every day.”

“What, you want to sit here until it grows back?” Harry responded, perplexed and spacey.

“No, we'll use a potion to grow it back. Honestly Potter, I am being fully honest and I really do believe you're a total moron. If they can grow bones back, why wouldn't we be able to grow hair back?”

“Is it really a good idea-”

Harry didn't finish his thought because Draco had disapparated quite suddenly and when he returned he had a clear vial that he made Harry drink. Harry swigged a bit too much and his hair was down to his shoulders as a result, a sight which they both got a kick out of thanks to a mirror and the ever-progressing Odyssea effects. Draco was able to cut Harry's hair quickly and efficiently using his wand and a few clever spells. When Harry looked back in the mirror a second time he was astounded by how different he looked. As an adult he had started to pay for actual haircuts (mostly because of Hermione's nagging) but he had never had it cut in this particular way. It was short but not overly so, and it actually worked in favor of his typically unruly raven locks.

“I wonder if Hermione will like this” he found himself saying aloud and Draco just smirked.

“So now that we're having a heart to heart Potter, let's have the truth of it. There's one thing I still can't figure out with you. I said Hermione Granger is your Achilles heel, but is that because the two of you just have this never-before-heard-of-in-history, soul binding, purely platonic best friendship or is it because you're in love with her?”

Harry's eyes flashed and for a second Draco's drug infested mind regained enough coherence to be scared that Harry might lose control and take down the entire Manor with his wandless magic. Yet as he looked closer he realized that it wasn't anger that changed Harry's eyes... his eyes had changed color. One moment they were a bright shade of green, and the next they were a dark shade of grey.

“Potter does not want to talk about that.” The words came from Harry's mouth, but the voice was clearly not his.

“Hello Riddle” Draco responded, and somewhere in his mind he heard Greyback howling to come out and join the party.

***************************

She was just about finished with weeding her garden. She knew that there were several spells that could adequately do this mundane task in a matter of seconds, but right now she had some time and she little the feeling of the warm soil in her hands and the hot sun against the back of her neck.

When she was finished she stood and wiped her hands off on her jeans. It was a perfect day for yard work; the sky was a beautiful shade of blue and fluffy white clouds floated lazily about. The sun was warm but there was a gentle breeze and no humidity. She rarely had time to enjoy her new backyard since she was typically buried in work, so she really tried to enjoy every second of it.

She looked over towards the corner of her yard and found Harry lying in the hammock as he usually did on those rare occasions when he had time to relax. His arm was over his face and she couldn't tell if he was asleep or awake so she walked over to him, smiling at how peaceful he seemed. When she drew close he removed his arm and smiled up at her, squinting slightly against the bright sun.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, absently pushing the hammock so he swayed slightly.

“No” he responded and as he swung back towards her he sat up suddenly and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down onto the hammock with him. They rocked uncertainly for moment, as though they might tip over but he steadied them and when the world stopped moving she was left resting on top of him, his arms still wrapped around her waist.

She wanted to laugh it off and move away from him, but something was keeping her there; something about it felt right. She felt warm and comfortable and yet alert and pointedly aware of the way his chest moved beneath her with each breath. As she moved her face to look into his eyes she saw something there that shocked her. Love and desire were burning from his gaze with such intensity that she felt like she couldn't breathe. And then, without so much as a single word indicating his intentions he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. He tasted of spearmint toothpaste and she offered no resistance as he deepened the kiss. When she breathlessly moved away from him her eyes were still closed and she allowed the tingly sensation of their embrace to linger, washing over her entire body.

And then there came laughter. Cold, slow laughter that she now recognized as that of Tom Riddle. When she opened her eyes it was not Harry's emerald gaze looking back at her, but the piercing red eyes of Voldemort.

Hermione woke with a gasp, cold sweat clinging to her as she sat upright, clutching the sheet of her hotel room bed desperately.

“What's wrong?” Ginny mumbled, her voice thick from sleep but still loud and coherent. When Hermione looked over at the redhead she was clutching her wand, ready for action. Dumbledore's Army training may pay off once more she thought hazily. “What's wrong with Harry?”

“What?” Hermione responded, confused about how Ginny could possibly know about her nightmare.

“You yelled out his name... I thought something had happened. Seems it must have just been a dream.”

“Yes, that's all it was” Hermione responded, feeling a chill take her over as she remembered Tom Riddle's face so close to hers.

“It must have been awful, the way you screamed his name scared me. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Hermione contemplated this for a moment. For some reason she did want to share, as though by reciting the dream over again it would leave her mind and free her of the icy sensation she was feeling all over. At the same time, the logical part of her brain felt strange about telling Ginny a story about kissing Harry (whom Ginny had dated) and Harry turning into Tom Riddle (whom Ginny had been abducted by). Instead, she tried a different approach.

“I just realized that I haven't thought to ask you how you feel knowing this whole ordeal with Harry seemingly sharing consciousness with Tom Riddle... or Voldemort. I'm still not 100 percent sure why Harry keeps saying Riddle. According to him he has all of Voldemort's memories as well as Riddle's, he just can't control accessing them.”

“Maybe it's because the Riddle part of Voldemort hated the man he turned into. True, he was disgusted by his muggle father's name- but he was also disgusted by what he became. Ugly, twisted and less than he always imagined he ought to be. Riddle was evil... I can attest to that. But he was also deeply proud. The fact that his future self was a noseless horror that couldn't even kill a baby probably sickens him. Young Riddle's consciousness is at conflict with Lord Voldemort.”

“Harry said something very similar- but how could you possibly know that? Even when you had the diary, you didn't even know who he was until much later...”

Ginny's voice was small as she laid back down on her bed. “That's true, and to be honest I don't know how I sense these things about him. I have these dreams sometimes, dreams where I am back in the Chamber of Secrets and Riddle is there talking to me. And while I know it's just a dream, I sense that some part of it is true.”

“Sometimes powerful magic objects leave a mark on us” Hermione commented, thinking of the weight of the Salazar Slytherin's locket before they destroyed it. As she said it, something dawned on her. Harry was the horocrux Voldemort never intended to make. He carried a piece of Voldemort's soul around in him for years. What if there is still an echo left, even after he destroyed the parasite?

It didn't explain why he only just started noticing it five years later, and it didn't answer how to get rid of it. However, it was the first theory she had developed since they had gotten past the “Harry has gone insane” phase.

“If you're in love with Harry I won't get mad about it” Ginny said, startling Hermione from her reverie.

“What?” Hermione asked sharply, twisting uncomfortably in her now sweat soaked sheets. She thought about the kiss from her dream and that just made matters worse.

“You don't have to confirm or deny it, I think I already know. I just want you to know that if anything ever does happen between the two of you, I won't be upset. Believe it or not, I came to terms with it before you even left to search for the horocruxes.”

“Came to terms with what?” Hermione asked, feeling like she should be annoyed and dismissive about this lapse in the conversation. Instead she just felt curious.

“I came to terms with the fact that you'll always be the woman he trusts above any other. If he goes to anyone, it'll be you he seeks when he's hurt, confused or scared. He will confide in you secrets he will never share with anyone else, and he will trust you to find the answers when he can't find them himself. It's a lot to compete with but I thought I could do it, I thought I loved him enough to overcome petty jealousy after the war ended. And in the end it wasn't even the jealousy that led me to end things between us; it was the fact that never really did come back from the war.”

***************************

“Hello Draco Malfoy” Harry responded, but it wasn't Harry speaking any longer. “Didn't you turn out to be a real disappointment.”

Yes, yes a blood traitor! Greyback chimed in, and Draco just barely managed to keep him repressed.

“Don't worry Draco, I know it was Voldemort you betrayed and not me. I can hardly blame you for that, he was foolish and weak and an utter disappointment. He was destroyed by a mere infant for Merlin's sake!” Riddle let out a cold chuckle and stood with a swift grace that was largely different from Harry's usual motions.

“You ARE Voldemort” Draco argued, keeping his tone calm, almost to the point of bored. He continued to ignore Greyback's howling, which was giving him a headache. “Don't you think it's a little pathetic that your inner child is having a fight with your inner adult?”

Riddle simply smirked as he paced around the kitchen island, running a finger along the smooth marble surface. “Actually, I think that in most cases, if a person's teenaged self was to meet their current self they would be displeased. Think about yourself for example. If the once proud Draco Malfoy, heir to Malfoy Manor and all of its prestigious assets could see the current Draco Malfoy giving Harry Potter a haircut, wouldn't he just want to kill him?”

Draco was seething but he managed to keep control. “So you can see Harry's memories just as he can see yours. What are you exactly?”

“Something very special” Riddle smirked, inspecting his finger for dust from the counter tops. “Tsk, tsk, where are your House Elves to deal with the dusting around here?”

“Answer the question” Draco responded, now standing as well and drawing himself to his full height. In Harry's body Riddle was about the same height as Draco, but Harry's body was more muscular and if it came to blows Draco would surely lose. Nonetheless, he did not show any self-doubt.

“I don't think you could grasp it even if I explained it to you. I used some very old, very complicated magic before I was... killed. For the longest time I was just a whisper wandering around in the dark. I sometimes wandered into Potter's dreams but I couldn't interact. I was a useless observer, but I had all of my memories. Then one day I could see out of his eyes, and I could even control a bit of his emotions. The best was the moment I realized I could control his body for brief periods of time. I nearly killed that mudblood whore of his. Can you imagine what a divine moment that would have been when he awoke from my control and realized he'd strangled her? I would have a front row seat to his suffering.”

“Well that's a bunch of not helpful. I suppose while you're feeling talkative though, I should ask you where Damon sent you to learn about Mental Channeling.”

Draco has expected Riddle to get mad about the question, but instead he looked impassive, simply studying him with those strange black eyes. Two can play at this game Draco thought, crossing his arms and patiently waiting for the other man to speak.

“I see from Harry's memories that Lucius and Narcissa are dead. Quite a gorey ordeal too, and all because I once let a little secret slip about Mental Channeling. I'd say it was a shame but their deaths aren't really much of a loss. They were traitors and leeches to boot. Although your mother was quite attractive. I had her several times, and the funniest part is your father knew all about it but did nothing. She was an icy woman but how she moaned like a whore!”

Draco felt the kitchen shake with his rage and pots and pans began to clang together in a rising cacophony of sound. He knew he was losing control but he did not care. Greyback was howling and he drew on that raw, animalistic rage, aiming it all at the raven-haired boy in front of him. Harry's body flung across the room with such force that the wall cracked when he made contact with it. There was a look of surprise in Riddle's eyes and that just fueled Draco further. Harry's body was pinned against the wall and he reached up and wrapped his hand around his throat. He could feel Harry's pulse racing against the palm of his hand, and Greyback's memories of tearing out the larynx of living people and tasting their hot blood suddenly gave him a craving to bite into Harry's throat.

“Oh do it already” Riddle hissed through his constricted windpipe. “If you truly want to stop being a coward, pick up my mission. Restore power to your family name...”

Draco slowly released his grip, staring uncertainly into Riddle's dark eyes. A moment passed and the ground still shook as they simply looked at each other, and then Riddle's eyes suddenly turned back to green and Harry Potter had returned, his body falling to the ground, unmoving.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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10. Chapter 10: Once More Into the Fray

Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while since the last update! Work has been crazy and I've been traveling a lot. However, rest assured that I still have many chapters in the que and I will try to be quicker about getting them posted. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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CHAPTER 10: Once More into the Fray

Hermione was unable to sleep after her creepy dream about Harry turning into Tom Riddle as she kissed him. She was also shaken by her peculiar conversation with Ginny, in which the younger girl not only managed to mostly avoid talking about how she was coping with Harry's recent possession by the former Dark Lord, but she also managed to insinuate that Hermione was in love with Harry Potter.

It was all very strenuous to deal with at 4 in the morning.

Thus she had decided to get an early start to the day by taking a soothing shower. The hot water took some of the chill out of her bones that had been left over from the dream, and eventually she shook off the whole “are you in love with Harry?” thing like she always did. Yet after both of those nagging sensations were gone, there was a deeper, more pervasive issue that pulled at her. Ginny had mentioned that she still had dreams of Riddle due to her interactions with his diary, which had been a horocrux.

Sometimes powerful magic objects leave a mark on us is what Hermione said, and now she couldn't stop thinking about it. A piece of Voldemort's soul was trapped inside of Harry for sixteen years. Such a thing is unprecedented; the possible side effects are unheard of. The memories Riddle's experiences, Harry's changes in personality and attitude- could they all be lingering side effects of a having a powerful magic object trapped inside him? In the end, what could be more powerful than a soul?

There were still so many questions, but she felt her working theory was very sound and that scared her. As often happened with Harry Potter, they were wading into unchartered territory and thus no books, manuscripts, or proclaimed experts could help.

After she exited the shower, dressed and applied a few quick charms to her hair and make-up she decided that she would have to compartmentalize and deal with one mystery at a time. They would be meeting with Luna's source in a few short hours and she needed her head clear if they were going to get any real information from the woman. She was their only lead in determining who was behind the murders of the former Death Eaters, and thus the group who had issued Hermione's Death Threat, and thereby the same group that had burned down the Burrow. Oh, and they're also most likely being led by a man named Damon who is highly organized and hell-bent on “re-organizing” the magical world as we know it she added in for good measure.

There was a whole end-of-world scenario on their hands and the best lead they had was a batty woman with a far fetched story and maybe some dusty old memories that Draco and Harry were hoping to pry from the unorganized thoughts of former serial killers. As always, they were stretching the limits of conclusive evidence.

She was surprised to find that Ginny was already up and ready as well, and so the two women decided to take a walk through Paris as the sun rose, and this time they talked about nothing, each lost in their own individual thoughts, yet the beauty of the city wasn't lost on them. For those who have been through war, the peaceful moments in life become all that much more important.

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Draco had spent hours fixing the damage that his magical outburst had done to the Manor, but Harry was still lying unconscious on the sofa that Draco had levitated his body to. After Draco had returned to his senses he had been quite sure that he may have killed the Boy Who Lived. In the past, the idea of standing triumphant over Harry's crumpled body would have pleased Draco, but now it actually scared him. There was too much danger lurking in the distance for Draco to face it alone, and it was clear that Harry was the key to solving some of the many mysteries.

Fuck my life for even thinking this, but if we have any chance of stopping Damon and his hoard of weirdos, it'll be because of Potter.

He had checked Harry's vitals and they seemed stable enough. He was breathing a bit shallowly but his pulse was strong. Draco was no medi-wizard but he had done enough research over the past few years that he felt broken ribs were a safe bet. He was concerned about what else might be broken.

Like his mind Draco mused. What if when those eyelids open up instead of green I see grey? It didn't take him long to answer his own question. I'll have to kill him. But not before doing my damndest to get some answers out of that sadistic fuck who calls himself Riddle.

Draco supposed that others were probably wondering why Harry kept saying it was Riddle in his mind and not Voldemort, but Draco knew all too well. When Harry's consciousness was overwhelmed, it was Tom Riddle the youth who came out to play, not Voldemort the old man. The Greyback part of Draco's consciousness recognized this difference instantly, and to Draco it made sense. His brief, nasty encounter with Riddle had only confirmed what Draco knew deep down inside.

I think that in most cases, if a person's teenaged self was to meet their current self they would be displeased. Think about you for example.

That is all Riddle had to say to explain it clearly. Riddle had once been a young man who grew up dreaming of great power and control only to instead become an ugly creature that was slayed twice by a boy. It had to be utterly disappointing. Draco knew about being disappointed in oneself.

Suddenly Harry's eyes flickered open and Draco let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding onto as he saw that it was indeed Harry Potter in the driver's seat again. Draco's gaze met Harry's for just a moment and Harry's mouth parted slightly as though he were about to say something and then they went unfocused and he lost consciousness once more.

**************************

“She was supposed to meet us here fifteen minutes ago” Luna announced, sounding uncharacteristically worried.

“I wouldn't fret about it too much” Ron responded. “From the way you describe this woman, she sounds a knut short of a galleon.”

“Don't be rude Ron” Ginny said, elbowing her brother with a yawn and then greedily grabbing for her coffee as it arrived at the table.

“You don't understand” Luna argued. “My source may be a bit `barmy' as you would put it Ronald, but she is also very superstitious about arriving at precisely the right time. I feel like something is wrong.”

“Do you know where her flat is?” Hermione asked, sensing Luna's sudden anxiety.

“Yes, I think we should go straight there and check on her” Luna said, standing up so quickly that her chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor, attracting the attention of the other patrons.

Hermione quickly threw a few Euros down on the table to pay for the coffee and nodded at Luna, following her from the cafe as both Ron and Ginny scrambled to suck down the rest of their drinks and join in suit.

Fortunately, the flat was only a few mere blocks from the cafe. They were in a tourist ridden muggle area and so apparation was out of the question. Thus, Luna half-ran, half-walked as Hermione followed quickly behind and the two redheads trailed like a couple baby ducks.

The flat they arrived at looked much the same as many of the others they had passed, and Hermione was surprised that Luna was able to find it as quickly as she did. However, she did not get the chance to question her about this because when they arrived the door was busted open and her blood ran cold.

They had all kept their wands carefully concealed as they trekked through muggle territory, but now that they were entering what clearly looked like a crime scene, they drew their wands and Ron took point, the girls following behind.

It had been five years since any of them had been in an organized combat situation, but the lessons of DA had not faded in the least. They communicated silently, fanning out through the flat in different directions to perform a fast and thorough search. It was Ginny who made a noise first.

“Guys, come in here” she said, her voice flat but somehow sounding very weary. They followed quickly towards her voice and found a petite woman's body curled into the fetal position as though asleep in the middle of an otherwise miraculously organized parlor. Yet as they drew closer it was clear she was not asleep. Her skin was a very light shade of blue and when Hermione touched her she was icy cold and very stiff.

“I've never seen anything like this” Hermione mumbled, shocked by how cold the dead woman's skin was to touch. “It must have been them... no magic I know of would freeze someone to death in this manner.” She turned back to the other three and when she saw the stricken look on Luna's face Hermione felt terrible for discussing the deceased woman as though she were some classroom project.

“It's my fault” Luna gasped, her face paler than usual and a slight trembled in her voice. She turned quickly away from the sight and Ron grabbed her in his arms, pulling her close as she sniffled slightly against his chest. Luna had never been one for crying much, and Ron had never been one for consoling others, but they looked oddly natural in that moment.

“It's not your fault” Ron said when she withdrew from him a moment later. “The people who did this, they must have known that she'd seen something she wasn't supposed to. The poor girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, whoever did it is long gone” Ginny announced after taking another lap around the small yet tidy flat. “And now we're royally fucked. This was our only lead.”

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Harry's head was pounding and each breath felt like a stab wound to his chest as he struggled for air. Even in the dim lighting of Malfoy Manor it hurt for him to open his eyes, but he forced himself to do so and slowly his surroundings came into reality. He realized he was lying in a sofa of some kind and deduced that Malfoy must have moved him. There was no sign of the blonde haired man, and Harry glanced around at the morbid surroundings of what had to be the most depressing parlor he had ever seen in his life. Heavy black drapes blocked any sunlight from getting in, and the only light in the room was emanating from the embers of a low burning fire in the black onyx fireplace. On either side of the fireplace two cobra snakes had been sculpted and they were reared up, fangs showing, as though about to attack.

This must have been a gloomy place to grow up Harry thought, half delirious as he still worked for each breath against the pain in his chest.

The door suddenly opened and a thin sliver of light from the other side revealed that it was now daytime. Draco Malfoy came waltzing in, a large silver tray balanced carefully in his hands. And then, a moment later, Tom Riddle followed behind him.

It's impossible Harry thought, struggling against the pain he was experiencing to sit up. Riddle looked no older than 18, his physical features still perfectly intact, from his dark locks of hair to his slender nose and those stormy grey eyes which were now fixed on Harry.

“Are you a moron Potter?” Malfoy asked as he watched Harry strain himself in great pain as he attempted to rise to his feet. “Actually, I already know the answer to that question. If you're worried about me attacking you again...”

“I never trusted you, but I thought you had changed Malfoy” Harry grunted between clenched teeth. The pain was searing so he fell to his side as soon as he had managed to grab his wand and now he clutched it as he watched Riddle gracefully make his way to the opposing armchair, a smirk on his face.

“Listen Potter, I'll admit I lost control, and sure I almost killed you, but can you just not be total prat about it for now? I mean, you were possessed by the evilest mother fucker to live in a long time...”

“So you what, just let him out? This whole time, was any of it true about you wanting to change, about you wanting to redeem yourself for being a coward? Or maybe this is how you redeem yourself eh? You pretend we're on some mission together and all along you just waited for the right opportunity to drug me and bring Riddle back to life.”

“What are you on about?” Draco spat, setting the tray down with heavy thud. “I didn't put Riddle in your head. And I'll admit that the potion had some adverse effects, but I didn't know THAT would happen.”

“And now the two of you are just the best of friends is that it? What's in those potion bottles Malfoy, something to give Riddle more strength?”

“Why the fuck would I want that Potter?!” Draco looked truly affronted and now there was a dull rumble in the floors of Malfoy Manor as the two boys locked gazes with one another.

*********************

Hermione rose slowly from the side of the corpse and tried to think. There's always a clue she reassured herself. I just have to use logic and search for it.

“This woman, she said that she saw her neighbor performing wandless magic from her balcony” Hermione spoke slowly as she walked towards the balcony and opened two double doors, which afforded a view of the street below, and across from that a small park. “She said she saw her levitate a large rock, but the woman said no words and used no wand. From this angle, there's only one rock I can see that's close enough to afford a good view. It's just by the park corner.”

Ron had come up behind her and he looked over her shoulder to see where she pointed. “You reckon we should check it out?”

“What else do we have to go on?” she sighed, and when she left the flat to investigate they all followed, glad to no longer be in the presence of a dead person. Only Luna lingered for a moment over the body, whispering something none of them could make out.

At the park Ron, Luna and Ginny kept guard while Hermione levitated the rock. Unfortunately it was the broad of day and thus it was difficult to be subtle, but they waited until foot traffic had passed and she moved it very quickly. Underneath there was clearly a hollowed out space, but when she reached her hand inside it was empty.

“Whatever this woman came here to get, she hasn't returned it” Hermione said glumly, feeling like the whole trip was an utter failure.

“We could ask around the neighborhood” Ginny offered. “Maybe they'll know who we're looking for.”

“We didn't exactly get a good description of this mystery woman. All Luna's source said is that the witch was quiet, tended to spend a lot of time to herself, and was wearing a black cloak.”

“Better than nothing” Ginny shrugged, and Hermione had to agree.

“It's risky though. If we march around the neighborhood looking for her she'll certainly notice and either run or ---” Hermione was about to say “attack” when the rock that she had just moved exploded beside her, pieces of gravel flying every which way and knocking her from her feet. Her ears were ringing as she tasted dirt in her mouth, and the noise had attracted much attention from nearby muggles who were shouting and running for safety.

Ron was trying to pull her to her feet and say something, but she couldn't hear as she waved her arm dumbly at a woman standing across the street. “HER!” Hermione heard herself screaming as her hearing recovered. “It was her!” Ginny and Luna wasted no time in drawing their wands and aiming hexes at the plainly dressed woman standing across the street. Bright lights flashed back in their direction in return, and although Hermione's hearing was damaged, she could tell that the woman's mouth wasn't moving. Silent, wandless magic.

Hermione narrowly dodged a curse as she regained herself, and then she was joining the others as they raced across the street, combatting their attacker. The woman was a formidable opponent and she was barraging them in a storm of silent hexes and spells, but Ron, Luna, Hermione and Ginny weren't new to magical combat and they were able to evade or block everything she sent while still returning their own fire. Eventually the telltale flash of fear could be seen in her eyes as they gained ground in her direction, and she turned quickly and fled down a narrow alleyway.

“Follow her!” Hermione shouted, her own voice still sounding like it was coming from underwater. Ginny and Luna pressed forward without hesitation, but when Ron looked back he suddenly stopped, his face looking pale with concern. “Keep moving Ro-” she tried to scold him but suddenly felt strange and light headed. Without a moment's notice her legs gave out beneath her and she fell to the curb.

Lying on the curbside Hermione felt woozy but was still conscious as Ron rushed to her, cradling her in his lap. She glanced down and saw the bloody mess that was her abdominal area. For a moment she looked up at the sky and marveled at how blue it was against the dark peaks of the French buildings. Slowly the world faded away from around her.

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The rumbling was intensifying as the uncontrolled magical output both boys were experiencing started to take grip. The chandelier above their head (also adorned with snakes of course) was rattling loudly now and Harry was trying to calm himself but Tom Riddle was just sitting there smugly grinning as though he hadn't a care in the world.

“I'll tear this whole house down on top of us rather than let either of you live!” Harry shouted of the escalating noise.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Draco roared, and now the chandelier did fall, and shards of glass exploded through the dimly lit room in a miraculous fashion, cutting into Draco's arms as he tried to protect his face and tearing a deep gash beneath Harry's eye. Tom Riddle got the brunt of the damage, but he did not flinch, blink or move. In fact, the glass seemed to go right through him.

“Ah, finally you get it Potter” Riddle sneered as the world went deaf around Harry. All he could see were those grey eyes, and all he could hear was that lilting voice. “Draco Malfoy can't see me. I'm in your head.”

“You're not real” Harry said slowly.

“Define `real'” Riddle shrugged. “I can't physically interact with the world around me true, but I have control of my consciousness and now you can't bury me any more. The Odyssea potion split your consciousness in two, and now you can see me and hear me. Now you have no choice.”

“That's not possible. You are dead. I destroyed every sinful little piece of your soul, even the one that was inside of me.”

“Maybe not every piece. While I may never be entirely whole again, I do believe I can take control of you. I will drive you to madness Potter, and then your body will be mine. I'll have a second chance to undo all of the mistakes I made as `Voldemort'. I will redefine myself as an entirely new Dark Lord, one who has your power and my cunning.”

“I will slit my wrists before I allow that to happen” Harry spat.

“Who the bloody hell are you talking to?” Draco exclaimed and suddenly Harry remembered that the blonde haired Slytherin was standing just meters away.

“Lock me up Malfoy” Harry urged. “Lock me up somewhere I can't get out.”

“What? Have you totally lost it?”

“So it would seem. I don't know how much control I have, just lock me up until we can figure out what can be done. Does Malfoy Manor have a place strong enough to hold me?”

“Of course” Draco spat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Care to explain what's happening?”

Harry briefly and vaguely described the fact that Tom Riddle was sitting in the armchair on the other side of the room, and to Harry's surprise Draco laughed. “Oh hallucinations now Potter? That's just rich.”

“I think it's more than a hallucination” Harry said sternly. “Something happened when I took that potion and he's stronger now. Controlling my emotions won't be enough anymore, we can't risk letting him take control of me. Lock me up and send an owl to Hermione.”

“Ah your little mudblood girlfriend” Riddle taunted. “Malfoy was right when he said she was your Achilles heel-”

“SHUT UP!” Harry shouted with such force that Draco actually flinched and the laughter drained from his eyes.

“This may not be all bad. He could give us answers if you're able to talk to him.” Draco said, looking at what only appeared to him as an empty armchair.

“Blondes really are stupid” Riddle sneered with a smirk on his handsome youthful features. “How could you possibly get me to talk? I feel no pain and death has already happened to me.”

“Get Hermione and lock me up” Harry repeated.

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When Hermione Granger regained consciousness she was lying on the stiff sanitized sheets of a hospital bed, the midday sun streaming through a nearby window and painting a neat square on the shiny floor tiles. She watched as small dust specks danced lazily in the sunlight, and she felt oddly peaceful for someone who had just been wounded while chasing a mysterious and dangerous stranger, and for someone who had lost consciousness in a foreign country only to wake up in a strange place.

“They must have given you some good potions” chuckled a familiar voice, and as Hermione turned her head towards Ginny Weasley she had the light sensation of floating.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked, her voice sounding as dreamy as Luna Lovegood's.

“That bitch took off down an alleyway that led into Ville Cachee, which I guess means...”

“Hidden Town” Hermione laughed arily. “It's the French Diagon Alley and I always thought the name was rather obvious. I also always meant to visit it one day.”

“Well, we're here now. Luna and I were chasing her as she ran right for a brick wall and just as we thought she was going to face plant the wall opened and revealed this village. The streets were jam packed with shoppers and we nearly lost her but I managed to stun her as she tried to round a corner.” Ginny's voice sounded triumphant. “A few minutes later Ron caught up with us and he was carrying you. Of course, the whole event had attracted a lot of attention so when people saw that you were injured they directed us to the hospital.”

“What about the woman?”

“French aurors showed up around the same time Ron did and they took the woman into custody. They recognized you and Ron of course, as part of the `trio d'or'.”

“Golden Trio” Hermione grumbled, her strange sense of euphoric peace fading. She had always disliked that silly phrase.

“Well, they took Ron's words seriously when he told them to lock the woman up and that she might be involved in the recent attack on the Burrow. I guess the two of you are as internationally famous as Harry these days.”

“No, not quite that famous, thank Merlin.”

“Maybe not, but I'm glad that for once Ron's fame was useful for something other than picking up some bimbo at a party.”

“Where is he now?” Hermione asked, trying to sit up but feeling a pressure near her stomach that made her lay back down.

“He and Luna are talking with the aurors. Our whole attempt to stay under the radar in France is pretty much blown now, so we need all the back up we can get. There are guards stationed outside the room here and they put so many wards on this place it would be easier to break into Gringotts.”

“I need to be involved in questioning the woman. We need answers, we don't have much time...”

“Rest for a moment longer” Ginny said in a calm but warning tone. “When that rock blew up a chunk of it put a good gash in your side. It didn't hit any critical organs, but it's still mending. They said you should be fine, but you may have a scar.”

Before I know it I'll look like Harry she thought distantly, suddenly remembering a day she had brought him to the beach and noticed how many scars he had collected in his arms, chest, back, ribs and abs. It was a strangely unbidden memory as she remembered him shirtlessly walking into the waves with great caution. He hadn't spent much time at the beach as a child and he looked unsure about stepping in the cold water. His caution made him seem so innocent and childlike to her, and that made seeing his scars all the worse. As she remembered that moment she missed him tremendously in a way that made her heart rate speed up and her soul ache.

“There's something else...” Ginny said slowly. “An owl arrived for you. The aurors checked to make sure there was nothing dangerous about it. It came before they put up wards to make us untraceable.”

“Is it from Harry? I hardly expected to hear from him so soon, he's always been bad about writing...”

“I don't think it's from Harry, it's not his handwriting” Ginny interrupted, handing the letter to Hermione to inspect it for herself. The first thing Hermione noticed was how smooth the envelope felt in her hand. The paper was top quality and she could see that the quill used to address it was as well crafted based on how dark the ink was and smooth the lines. Ginny was right, it wasn't Harry's penmanship. Harry had small, untidy scrawl while this was elegant, near-perfect calligraphy. There was something vaguely familiar about the handwriting, but she couldn't put a finger on it.

Of course, there was no return address, but the front of the envelope was addressed to “Ms. H. Granger, The Hospital Cot in the East Wing, Ville Cachee, France.” She ripped it open and quickly looked to the bottom to see whom it was from. Her stomach sunk in a way that made her feel ill.

“It's from Draco Malfoy” she said, and Ginny forwent any sense polite privacy and leaned forward to read over the older girl's shoulder.

It began quite simply addressed to “Granger” and moved forward in the same abrupt and impersonal manner. “As you know, I have had to form an alliance with Potter to deal with some of the suspect activity we've all be witnessing as of late. In the process of seeking answers there has been a misstep and he now seems fairly certain that he is unstable and that you are the only person who can assist him. I will reserve my personal sentiments until a later date, but he is requesting that you come to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible.”

“Well, that was bloody vague of him” Ginny complained, but Hermione could barely hear her. All that was echoing through her mind were the words he is unstable. When she had last seen him they had been sitting on his bed in Grimmauld Place and he had been worried that he wouldn't be able to maintain control forever. She remembered his words now, and they pressed in on her with such pressure that she suddenly had trouble breathing... if he's in there, I mean really, fully in my head, what's to stop him from growing stronger and taking over?

It had only been a few days, but she had promised him that she would do everything she could to solve the problem, but she had no answers whatsoever. She wasn't sure how she could face him knowing that she couldn't save him. It would break her heart... it already was.

“Are you even listening to me?” Ginny asked suddenly, and Hermione's thoughts came back to the present moment. “I was just saying that it could be a trap. Harry felt that there was some reason to trust Malfoy...”

“He never trusted him” Hermione interrupted. “But he did feel that he would need him.”

“Fine, but that only makes it worse doesn't it? What if he double crossed Harry like he did Dumbledore, what if he's done something to him and he's using him as bait...”

“Well, we can hardly sit around and speculate now can we?” Hermione burst out with such vigor that Ginny jumped a bit. “Even if it is a trap, we can't just ignore the fact that Harry may be in serious danger. If Malfoy is being sincere, something might be very, very wrong. I'm the last person Malfoy would reach out to.”

Ginny felt uncomfortable by the raw emotion in Hermione's usually composed features. She had often suspected that Harry and Hermione slept together, not just because they were close but because the Boy-Who-Lived was always sleeping over Hermione's house, they were both adults now, and they both went through long lapses of being single. Who could blame them for wanting to get it in every once in awhile?

Ron had always told her it was shallow to think such things, claiming that neither Harry nor Hermione would want to risk their legendary friendship for an occasional shag. Ginny secretly felt that Ron only made such claims because he was jealous that things had crumbled apart with him and Hermione. After all, Ginny had done the friends-with-benefits routine several times in life and saw no reason for drama- sex was sex, it was perfectly natural. Now however, she suddenly felt very sure that Hermione and Harry had never been intimate, that if they had it couldn't possibly be casual. For the first time, under Hermione's carefully composed exterior, Ginny glimpsed the truth.

I wonder if she even knows? Ginny mused.

“I need to go now” Hermione was saying, and Ginny realized that the older girl had sat up in spite of the still mending wounds, and was gathering her things. “You, Ron and Luna will have to handle the inquiry of the suspect, along with the French aurors.”

“I'm going with you” Ginny said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If it is a trap, I won't let you walk into it alone. I suspect Ron won't feel too happy about letting us take off to Malfoy Manor based on a summons from Draco Malfoy.”

“Then it's good that there's no time to tell him. Write a quick note and we'll send it off from the owlery before we go. We need him here with Luna finding out whatever they can, there's really no time to debate that with him.”

Ginny saw Hermione wince as she stood up, but it was so slight it was almost impossible to detect. Her mask is back on Ginny determined. Once more into the fray.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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11. Chapter 11: Paris in Flames

Author's Note: So things really start rolling into action in this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed, especially those who take the time to consistently review. 98 reviews may not make this the most popular story on Portkey, but it is more than I expected and very inspiring!

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CHAPTER 11: Paris in Flames

“When your mother died she let out the most blood curdling scream I've ever heard. Mind you, I've heard a lot of final protestations before murdering people, but her scream was so sorrowful I actually remember it.”

“Fascinating” Harry muttered, burying his face in an over plush black pillow. Of course Malfoy Manor would have an inescapable prison tower, and of course it would be decorated with drab black colors and a plethora of twisting snakes. When Harry had asked Draco to put him someplace he wouldn't be able to break out of he had pictured a dripping prison cell in the dungeon. But Draco had insisted that the prison tower was far more secure, and so far Harry couldn't argue. At first Tom Riddle's cruel words had gotten under his skin and triggered his uncontrollable wandless magic. There was debris all over the room to prove it, but the dark wood paneling of the walls hadn't so much as splintered. At this point, Riddle's words were becoming a dull buzz in his ear and he hardly cared. “If all you can do is annoy me with your incessant chatter I don't think you have much hope for taking over my body.”

“You doubt me? I'm growing ever more certain that I can drive you insane. I don't need sleep or food but you do. And as you grow weaker I will grow stronger.”

“I told you-”

“Yes, you'll slit your wrists before you let it happen. Such melodrama.”

“You doubt it?” Harry grunted, standing up amongst the wreckage of what was once a four-poster bed. He picked up a particularly pointy shard of wood as though to prove his point.

“No, I don't doubt you'd kill yourself. Actually, based on my memories of you I am convinced that you are quite possibly the most suicidal little boy to ever live. Don't you value the life your Mommy gave you at all?” Harry said nothing, simply tossing the splinter ineffectually at the spot where the image of Tom Riddle was standing. It passed through him and clattered loudly on the floor. “You won't kill yourself for the same reason you didn't stay dead when I killed you at the Battle of Hogwarts. Guilt. You feel like you need to stay alive to save everyone. Which is convoluted since everyone would probably be far safer if you were dead.”

“Taking credit for killing me in the Battle of Hogwarts now? I thought you were trying to distance yourself from the `Voldemort' part of yourself. You can't despise him and be him at the same time.”

“Oh but I can. Self-loathing can be a powerful thing. Just look at yourself; fighting and bleeding every day of your life so you don't have to face the reality of what you are; a lonely, homeless murderer. You hate yourself so much you'd rather go to war than deal with yourself.”

“Now you're just making no sense” Harry sighed, sitting down on the pillow lazily. He marveled at the fact that of all the things he'd blown up in his fury, the plump pillow had gone un-touched.

There was a sudden knocking on the door and he walked quickly towards it, both excited by this change in the tedium of Riddle's company and fearful that someone would come walking in and he'd hurt them. “Who is it?”

“It's me” said a small voice that he recognized right away. Logically, Harry knew Hermione would come to him, she always did. But some small part of him feared that with all he'd put her through and the way he had been acting as of late, she would have given up on him.

“Don't come in” he responded, but there was tenderness in his voice to indicate that he was glad she was there.

“I know, Malfoy filled me in on what happened. I can't believe you took Odyssea. It's an illegal potion Harry, it could have killed you. Not that the side-effects aren't bad enough as it is.”

“Are you going to lecture me or help me?” he said, his tone joking but with undertones of panic.

“I'm here to help you of course. I tried to do some research before I went to Paris, but I've found nothing about shared consciousness. I'm afraid-- I don't know what I'm doing.” Her admittance to a lack of knowledge scared him, but mostly he was concerned about how sad and afraid she sounded herself.

“Are you going to tell her the truth Potter? I could tell her for you if you like. Just let me take over...”

“NO” Harry said sternly, using everything Malfoy had taught him to regain control of his thoughts and emotions. After a few quick breaths he was back to himself, and while the tall black-haired boy was still pacing about behind him, Harry was able to tune out Riddle's jabbering until it became a dull roar. “I trust you Hermione. Just do what you can. I'm fine- I'll be fine.”

He hoped the words conveyed more certainty than he felt, and they seemed to do the trick as a moment later he heard the sound of her footsteps retreating and once more he was alone in his prison of destruction with the worst inmate imaginable.

**************

“You may have done something wrong when you brewed the potion” Hermione suggested, not for the first time as she, Ginny and Draco scoured the extensive Malfoy Manor library for something to help explain Harry's hallucinations of Tom Riddle.

“Granger, I am telling you I did not. Odyssea is a relatively simple potion compared to the complexities of Werewolf Fang Pensive, and I managed to brew that without a problem.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, looking up from her book to meet his silver-grey gaze for the first time. When they had arrived at the Manor it had certainly been uncomfortable, and that was putting it pleasantly. Hermione did not trust Malfoy, and Ginny downright despised him. It was clear that Draco had no affection for either of the girls either, and so Hermione had dispensed with the small talk as soon as they arrived, instead firing every pertinent question she could think to ask at the moody former Slytherin. Draco had been agitated by her brisk, judgmental manner, but kept his usual biting repartee to the minimum.

Even as Hermione interrogated Draco, she avoided making eye contact for more than a fleeting moment or two. The last time she had been in Malfoy Manor she had been tortured by Malfoy's crazy aunt. She had done well at managing to push that thought away, but when she looked at Draco she would suddenly remember that he had watched, that he had seen her cry out in pain. The sensation of the memory was like a kick in the gut each time, and she felt the helplessness of that moment submerge her once more, pulling her into a whirlwind of emotion that was divided between the desire to hide somewhere and cry and the desire to hex Mafloy to a pulp.

Thus, she had avoided looking at him so that she could focus all of her attention on the one person who mattered most; Harry.

She looked back down at her book, tearing her gaze away from Draco's and trying to think of anything but the word “Mudblood” and the excruciating pain that accompanied having it etched into her arm. There were still light scars on her wrist from it, like very thin spider webs. The word wasn't visible, and even the scars were very hard to see, but she knew they were there. She suddenly realized she was rubbing her arm subconsciously and abruptly stopped.

“From what I hear, when Harry arrested you, you were howling at the moon” Ginny muttered after a few moments of silence. “Perhaps you did fuck up the Werewolf Fang Pensieve.”

“Even the female Weasleys are brainless” Draco spat back angrily. “The Werewolf Fang Pensieve doesn't just give you the memories of the werewolf, you re-live them, very vividly. If you spent more time paying attention in school and less trying to fuck Potter...”

“This isn't helping” Hermione said in a stern tone, and Ginny bit off whatever reply was on the tip of her tongue. The two were staring at each other with unshielded animosity, and Hermione was a bit surprised to see that despite Draco's angry snarl Ginny didn't look the least bit afraid. They stared at each other a moment, neither so much as blinking and then Draco looked back down at his book and the near fight was evaded.

Hermione closed the useless book in front of her and stood to find another, but suddenly stopped and turned towards Draco whom had his angular face propped up lazily by one slender arm as he read. “Malfoy, you said that you have Greyback's memories, and that you can vividly experience them?”

“Yes” he sighed, not bothering to look at her. “As I already told you, they're of no use. Greyback had no knowledge of where Riddle went all those years ago. And it's certainly not going to help with Potter's mental break down.”

“Yes, but the two may be related. The Werewolf Fang Pensieve gave you Greyback's memories, and from the sounds of it, Harry experiences Riddle's memories in a similar fashion.”

“He DID experience Riddle's memories, but now he's experiencing the bastard in person. But yes, there were similarities in what we were both going through, which is why I was able to help him control the memories in exchange for him busting me out of prison. And now we're here.”

“Lovely re-play” Ginny said sarcastically. “Seems like you would've been a better announcer than you were a seeker.”

“We need to learn more about the Werewolf Fang Pensieve. Perhaps the magical mechanism that bonds a werewolf's soul to his fangs is similar to whatever happened between Harry and Voldemort.”

Draco tried his best not to look impressed, but it was clever. As he walked off to gather every book he had on the Werewolf Fang Pensieve he wondered how anyone could stand the fact that she was such a know-it-all.

******************************

The woman sitting across from Ron and Luna was plain to say the least. Her skin was smooth and pale and unremarkable, her nose was rather curved and her lips were thin. She wore her black hair in a shoulder length bob cut that somehow made her face look long and sallow and more homely. Ron rather thought she looked a like a female version of Snape, but she was a lot less greasy.

“It's clear you're not ready to talk, but we don't need you to talk, at least not yet” Ron said, propping his feet up on the table in a casual manner. He had no expertise in interrogation, but the past few years working as a businessman for WWW had made him fairly adept in negotiations. Right now they had her bound up and in the custody of the French aurors. They had the upper hand and he needed to let her know that.

“We don't need you to talk, but we do need you to listen. I'm going to tell you a story. Once upon a time there was an evil man named Damon. Like many evil, insane wizards, he had a vision on how he could change the world. You see, he was capable of using a form of very powerful wandless magic called Mental Channeling, and thus he thought he was very special.

For years Damon raised up loyal factions to assist in his plan for global domination. He taught them the secrets of Mental Channeling, and in return they developed sects of followers to overthrow the wizarding governments around the world. Damon made a mistake though; he trusted a very selfish boy named Tom Riddle. He shared his secrets with Tom, but Tom didn't want to share world power. He started his own army called the Death Eaters and they were so mean and nasty that Damon decided he'd rather wait until Tom died off than fight him.

Tom Riddle started calling himself Voldemort and he tortured and murdered many people. Damon did nothing about this, instead waiting patiently until one day, a spell backfired on Voldemort and killed him instead of destroying the baby boy he sought to murder. But Damon was a fairly smart bloke; he knew that Voldemort wasn't gone completely. So once more the coward Damon waited until the baby boy grew into a teenager and destroyed Voldemort once and for all.

Once Voldemort was gone, Damon felt ready to seize power, but he had some cleaning up to do first. You see, it was never his intention to start a war like Voldemort had; in fact, he was very against that sort of uncivilized slaughter. Damon had been patient because he wanted to be so powerful that when him and his worldwide cult of followers decided to make themselves known, their power would be so great that every leader of the wizarding world would simply surrender.

Now, I don't know if you play chess, but I love it. And one thing you have to always remember is that when you're ready to get the opponent's king into checkmate, you can't get cocky and let them see your strategy or they'll tear it apart. Damon knows this, and so before he let his cronies free onto the world, he needed to cover his tracks, needed to hide his strategy. So he had everyone killed off who might know about his Mental Channeling secret.

Damon killed off Draco Malfoy's mommy and daddy and a bunch of other gross Death Eaters, and nobody was very sad. But then, Damon made another mistake. He was so hell-bent on killing off all those who Tom might have talked to that he threatened a woman named Hermione Granger. You see, Hermione Granger was the only one who could reveal the locations of those Death Eaters who had been pardoned, and even though the Ministry of Magic said they were pardoned, Damon still felt they knew too much and were better off six feet under.

Like I said though, Damon made a mistake because he didn't do his research. Even though Hermione Granger is young, and even though she has a thousand reasons to want the Death Eaters dead, she is a one-of-a-kind witch. If Damon had done his research, he would have known that she is the brightest witch of her age and that she doesn't scare easily. He would know that she believes in justice, and she will not bow to the demands of a dictator.

Damon's mistake pissed off the wrong people, and efforts to find out who was behind killing the Death Eaters was doubled. That teenager who killed Voldemort, Harry Potter, well he was very concerned about the whole thing and even that little brat Draco Malfoy whose mommy and daddy had been killed was fixated on revenge. So they started digging, and they started finding Damon's secrets out.

One night, Damon sent his cult followers to attack a wonderful place called The Burrow. The Burrow was burned to the ground, but Hermione Granger still lived and so did the Weasley family and Harry Potter and even that little brat Draco Malfoy.

And now Damon's secrets aren't secrets anymore. They're stories being told by men like me.”

Ron paused for effect, and there was a long silence in which nobody spoke. The intensity of the moment was only broken by Ron's stomach growling loudly, so he gave it a pat and sat up. “I'm hungry, how about you Luna? Let's get something to eat.”

If Luna was perplexed by Ron's behavior she didn't show it. She simply took the hand he offered her, stood up and walked out of the holding cell by his side.

“She didn't expect you to know as much as you did” Luna announced once the door was closed firmly behind them. “She was shocked, and a bit scared.”

“Really? How can you tell? To be honest, I made some of that stuff up to bridge the gaps in what Harry told me.”

“I'm good at reading people” Luna shrugged. “People always thought I was loony, so they tried to hide their real reactions from me to be polite. Eventually, I got good at reading what they were really thinking by looking into their eyes. Your story was very close to the truth of what is happening and her eyes told me that.”

“That's bloody brilliant” Ron grinned. “And Luna, I don't think you're loony. I'll admit I used to, but you've proved yourself to be quite the sharp Ravenclaw.”

“Thank you Ronald” she responded dreamily. “You were rather brilliant in there yourself. But then, I've always thought you are much brighter than people give you credit for.”

************************************

“I think I found something!” Ginny exclaimed with a level of exuberance that almost felt inappropriate for the dark, sullen surroundings of Malfoy Manor. Hermione quickly moved to the younger girl's side to read over her shoulder, but Draco stayed firmly cemented in his seat, leaning back in his chair and looking up from his own reading to show he was listening. “A part of the werewolf's soul is bonded with its fangs as this aspect of the creature's physiology is most precious to its nature. The fangs are an inseparable part of who the werewolf is; even more fundamental to his essence of being than his heart, brain or lungs. In magical theory, we call this incidence in which a wizard or witches soul binds with a specific part of their body or consciousness `Soul Binding'.”

“Soul Binding?” Draco snorted, rocking forward in his chair so quickly that the legs slammed down and a loud echo rippled through the vast library. “Could they have thought of a more obvious name?”

“Perhaps part of Voldemort's soul was bound to Harry's” Hermione puzzled out, now pacing. “Harry was the horocrux Voldemort never meant to create, a part of his soul was literally within Harry from infancy.”

“But Harry destroyed that in the Final Battle” Ginny argued. “And besides, even if some part of Voldemort's soul still lingered, it shouldn't be this strong now. It never was before.”

“What if part of Voldemort's soul hid itself deep inside of Potter?” Draco suggested and Hermione and Ginny both jumped slightly, as though they'd forgotten he was even there. “The first time the Dark Lord was defeated by Potter a piece of him ended up inside of Potter. What if it happened again a second time, but this time it wasn't just a fluke, but rather an emergency back up plan? What if he knew about soul binding and he made it so that he'd bind with the part of Potter that is `fundamental to his essence'?”

Hermione's eyes lit up at the implications of what Draco was saying. “It's possible. Voldemort would not have thought it possible to be defeated again, but he knew that we were destroying the horocruxes. He was powerful, and intelligent- he might have devised another back-up plan.”

“So, a piece of Voldemort is in Harry yet again” Ginny sighed. “It doesn't explain his madness and wandless magic and all that. None of that happened to him before.”

“Because he didn't use this stupid `Soul Binding' thing last time” Draco responded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He didn't mean to make Harry a semi-horocrux, he certainly didn't think that a baby was going to kill him that night. This time though, he was in a battle with a foe he knew was more formidable than he had ever been willing to admit. So he found a way to use soul binding to his advantage- he found a way to attach a part of himself more securely to whoever ended his life.”

I used some very old, very complicated magic before I was... killed.

Draco recalled Riddle's words coming from Harry's mouth. Had that just been the night before? Maybe two nights? He had no sense of time in this dark library.

“Soul Binding outside of one's own body... it would take a lot of power, but it's a solid theory” Hermione agreed. “But what would Voldemort's soul bind to within Harry?”

“`The fangs are an inseparable part of who the werewolf is; even more fundamental to his essence of being than his heart, brain or lungs'” Ginny repeated from the book that was still laid out in front of her. “What is an inseparable part of Harry?”

“Well, I'd say his heart or lungs are inseparable from him. Even the Boy Wonder would die pretty quickly if we were to take those. The brain on the other hand... I'm pretty sure he lacked one to begin with.”

Hermione and Ginny simply gave Draco a scathing look and he was left to smirk at his own joke. No sense of humor in these Gryffindors.

“What about his scar?” Ginny suggested.

Which one? Hermione almost asked, once more thinking about the time she had come home to a house covered in blood and seen the full extent of his growing scar collection on his bare chest. “True Harry has had the scar since he was a child, and it's what the public recognizes him by but it's only a symbol of pain to him- it represents the night his parents were killed and a conduit to Voldemort. If the werewolf's soul bonds to it's fangs, Voldemort's soul would need to bind to something equally important within Harry. It needs to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by.”

“His pecker?” Ginny joked and Draco actually laughed out loud at this jab, which surprised both girls.

“Could the two of you take this seriously?” Hermione asked, scowling. “He's alone, depending on us to solve this and you're making jokes. Stop thinking physical- they said it could be something in his consciousness- perhaps something like bravery or loyalty.”

“Lighten up Granger, we're all doing our best” Malfoy argued. “The way you two are so madly in love with each other I can't believe you haven't started popping out know-it-all babies with awful hair yet.” Hermione ignored his words, but as they came out of his mouth something crept up on him like a slow trickling thought. When they were messed up on the Odyssea he had asked Harry if he loved Hermione.

Potter does not want to talk about that Tom Riddle's words reverberated in his mind. Harry had changed over to Riddle almost instantly when he was asked about Hermione.

He thought of Hermione's words and something seemed to click.

If the werewolf's soul bonds to it's fangs, Voldemort's soul would need to bind to something equally important within Harry. It needs to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by.

***********************************

Ron hadn't been bluffing about being hungry for lunch. Ron wasn't a very good liar to begin with, but his stomach was incapable of telling a lie. Thus they decided to let the prisoner stew in her thoughts while they got a proper French lunch.

Ron was still brushing crumbs off his shirt as they returned to the holding cell, and rubbed his stomach contentedly as they resumed their seats across the table from the very plain woman.

“Could you at least tell us your name?” Luna asked, trying the kind approach to start.

“Brigitte Mouzon” she said in thick French accent, her tone haughty. Still, they were surprised by her sudden break of silence so Luna kept trying the same tactic.

“Thank-you for telling us that. As Ronald expressed to you, we know that you are a part of Damon's followers and that there is a plan to attack soon. We need to know any details you can spare. We don't want people to get hurt, I hope you don't either.”

“Nobody wanted anyone to get `urt” Brigitte huffed. “We are not a cult, we are not radicals. We follow Damon because `e is a visionary. `E sees evil men like your Lord Voldemort and `e knows there will always be chaos unless someone instills order. `E trains us in this `Mental Channeling' as you say, so that we can rise above the chaos, and create a clarity for the wizarding world.”

“Damon nearly put this power into Tom Riddle's hands!” Ron exclaimed, unable to stop himself. “How do you see your mission as being so superior when he once lent support to a lunatic?”

“As you said, Damon `as made mistakes. But `is mistakes have also made `im wise. `E will be a benevolent ruler.”

“Your cult burned down my family's home!” Ron shouted. “Good aurors were killed for Damon's `benevolence'!” Luna places a hand on Ron's arm and he felt calmer somewhat, swallowing down his rage.

“Sometimes, the Children of Damon `ave to do regrettable things for the masses. If you let us, we will take the sorrows and injustices of the magical communities and mend them for you. But if you stand against us, you will start a war. This is not something we want, as I said.”

“So, either we wholeheartedly accept Damon's dictatorship, or you slaughter us all. Remind me Luna, what's the definition of benevolence? Because I'm not getting this.”

“Damon `as been patient for `undreds of years!” Brigitte barked, suddenly shifting from her calm state to one of anger. A curse burst from her body but it hit the wards surrounding her and were absorbed. “We `ave all waited a very long time to mark the dawn of the new era, because we `ave been waiting until the wizarding world would accept us, until you would see reason. We `oped that when you saw the devastation caused by your Lord Voldemort you would see the sense of our cause, would welcome us.”

“So you let the the Death Eaters slaughter and torture innocent people to prove a point?” Ron responded angrily. “Did it occur to you that maybe if you helped us we'd be a lot more welcoming?”

She laughed at this and the tips of Ron's ears turned bright red. “Look at `ow you treat your `eros! Men like Albus Dumbledore who were shunned by your minister as crazy. Boys like `Arry Potter who were laid out to be slaughtered by the media. No, we could not be your `eros, you would never respect us.”

Ron saw both sense and madness in these words and it felt like his head would be ripped apart.

“So now that we have relative peace, you plan to tear it all apart?” Luna asked, her voice small.

“It is better to `ave rulers born of peace than rulers born of war, no? But, it seems you will never accept this, not even the two of you who have seen battles and blood and death. I should think you'd want change more than most.”

“But there has been change” Luna insisted. “True change happens in a person's heart; a dictator can't enforce it upon them. When Voldemort rose to power the second time, yes there were those who followed him out of fear and those who did evil things. But there were also those who stood up and showed love and bravery and courage. And that changed our world. We're still not perfect but we're better now, more unified. Maybe that was just in Britain, but what the world learned is that when people bond together they grow together. We just need time.”

“We `ave been giving the world time for centuries, and always there are new faces of evil and destruction, and always these lessons you learn are quickly forgotten. Damon's patience is finally running out.”

*******************************

“Before I taught Potter to control his emotions, Tom Riddle was latching onto his anger as a way of coming out, as a way of controlling him right?” Draco started, standing up now so that Ginny was the only one still seated.

“Yes” Hermione agreed.

“When else did he lash out, when else did you see Riddle speak through him?”

“Only when he was angry, or upset. Or... well, once when he was having a nightmare he awoke and attacked me, but only for a moment.”

“He also tried to attack you at The Burrow” Ginny recalled. “That's why we had to lock him up.”

Draco grinned as his theory came together, but to the girls he only looked sinister and sadistic. “Riddle would take control of Potter when Potter was angry, or when Potter was around you Granger, but especially when Potter was upset about something to do with you.”

Hermione crossed her arms, looking perplexed. It was a look Draco had never seen on the know-it-all and she looked oddly vulnerable. “You're suggesting that I somehow have something to do with all of this.”

“I'm suggesting that in a last ditch effort to stick around, Voldemort used Soul Binding to latch a piece of himself onto whatever was the most essential part of Harry's consciousness; you.”

Hermione felt flustered and uncomfortable by the way both Draco and Ginny were looking at her. Ginny's gaze suggested a resigned sense of “I knew it all along” and Draco's was a mixture of disgust and... envy? He looks envious she realized in the delirium of her emotions. Why would he be...

“It makes sense” Ginny said, her voice thick with some unreadable emotion. “You said yourself Hermione, Voldemort's soul would need to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by.”

“He hardly defines himself by me” Hermione insisted, suddenly feeling rather faint. “He doesn't, he isn't...”

“In love with you?” Draco scoffed. “No, you're right, he isn't. Whatever it is more complex and intense than love, or at least the way we conventionally think of love. He's been hiding it from even himself I think, what better place for Voldemort to hide a piece of his soul than that place in which not even Potter is willing to venture? And every time Potter feels strongly about you, whether it be fear or anger or love, that piece of Riddle's soul was awakened a little more.”

Hermione felt like Draco Malfoy was playing some sort of cruel prank on her, that any moment he would start laughing in that condescending way he always had back at Hogwarts and he would say “honestly Granger, you should have seen your face. As though Potter would be in love with a mudblood know-it-all bitch like you. Have you seen the other girls he's shagged? Clearly he's got a thing for smoking hot redheads, which you most certainly are not.”

It was Ginny who interrupted Hermione's cruel thoughts. “Well, if any of what you're saying is correct Malfoy, we can hardly just rip that part of Harry out of his body. It's not like a werewolf fang, it's part of his consciousness. How do you propose we get rid of Riddle if we can't remove it?”

“Why exactly am I expected to have all the answers?” Draco huffed. “Besides, when it comes to the pathetic concept of love I am no expert.”

“Clearly” Ginny responded, narrowing his eyes at him in such a way that Draco was suddenly startlingly aware of just how much the youngest Weasley seemed to hate him. She's not a hot-headed moron like her brother- she can control her temper but she's got a fiery rage burning under that smooth, pale skin.

“I need some air” was all Hermione said, suddenly fleeing the library and heading for the double doors that led out into the untamed garden of Malfoy Manor. It was incredibly silent out there; not so much as a bird chirping or a bug buzzing. It was clear that the vast gardens had once been carefully manicured, but now they had become wild due to Draco's neglect following the double homicide of his parents. Thick vines crisscrossed the stone path and the hedges had grown tall and wide, blocking out the sunlight as she walked further along. She pulled her cardigan closer around her as she felt a chill pass through her. She wondered if this was what it had looked like for Harry when he entered the final challenge of the Tri-Wizard competition.

Harry. Normally just the thought of his name made her feel warmer. She would think of his emerald green eyes, his untamable black hair, the solid feeling of his body as she hugged him, his unique scent--fresh cut grass and fresh spearmint, the calming sensation of his hand on her arm. Now all of those thoughts made her feel uncertain, unsure, unstable. Uncertainty was Hermione Granger's least favorite form of existence.

She had always been quick to deny all of those allegations about Harry's feelings for her- from Rita Skeeter, Viktor Krum, Ron, O'Rourke, Ginny, and countless others. The concept that Harry, her best friend, the person she knew better than she knew herself, could be hiding his feelings so well seemed ludicrous, no, it seemed impossible. They didn't keep secrets from each other, how could he manage to keep a secret like being in love with her?

Yet everyone had seen it except for her, and now she felt downright foolish. His fierce protectiveness, his undying trust, his open admiration; all of these seemed like obvious indicators of someone whose feelings surpassed those of a platonic friend. Harry had always been evasive of physical contact having grown up being raised by an Aunt and Uncle whose only form of physical contact was abusive. Yet he had grown to be comfortable hugging her, holding her hand, rubbing her back, and even kissing her cheek. No, he doesn't love me like a sister.

The realization washed over her like a tidal wave and she stumbled towards a stone-carved bench, relying on its sturdy structure to support her as her legs were no longer working. She knew the truth of it; some part of him was in love with her. For most girls, that realization would have brought a feeling of joy, or at least flattery. For her it just brought more uncertainty, because she wasn't sure how she felt about him in return.

When Ron had asked her if she was in love with Harry at The Burrow, she had responded with a resigned “I don't know” saying, “Maybe I don't really know what it's like to feel in love”. That lack of knowledge was startling for someone who prided themselves on practical wisdom. How could she not know what being in love felt like? Shouldn't one just know?

She realized she was crying and she wiped the tears from her cheek hastily as she heard footsteps approaching.

******************************

“Damon's patience is running out?” Ron scoffed. “Well, what exactly is that supposed to mean to us?”

There was a long pause and Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as a strange feeling passed over him. Finally, Brigitte Mouzon responded with a single word.

“War.”

In the next few moments everything seemed to happen at once. A massive explosion shook the room with such violence that Ron was thrown from his chair. His ears went deaf as smoke filled the holding cell, and he laid in a pile of rubble for a moment feeling dazed. Slowly he got up to his knees, seeing blood on his clothing but not knowing who it belonged to. Where Bridgitte had been sitting was covered in chunks of stone from the torn apart wall, and the hallway was now exposed but impossible to see into due to the smoke. He coughed hard but couldn't even hear himself as he tried to get to his feet and stumbled woozily back down, his eyes watering and his head pounding.

Luna he thought, realizing he could not see her anywhere. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut and it sparked his adrenaline as he abandoned his attempts to stand and crawled through the dust and rubble to the other side of the room. Her light blonde hair wasn't difficult to spot once he got close enough, but it was clear she wasn't moving and his heart stopped as he threw himself to her side. With shaking hands he gently touched the side of her face, turning her head and seeing fresh blood coating her hair and trickling down her neck. He moved his fingers lower, seeking her pulse but she groaned and shifted slightly and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He looked back towards the gap in the wall and noticed that flames were now dancing in the opening. They would be consumed by fire within minutes if he didn't move fast. Ignoring the pain in his head and throughout his body Ron coughed hard one last time and then scooped Luna up in his arms, straining to stand as the hot air whirled around their bodies. Step-by-step he staggered across the debris, squinting against the acrid smoke that was pulled tears from his eyes. When he made it to the corridor he has to turn left as everything to the right of him was engulfed in flame. The heat was tremendous against his back and he struggled not to trip, as it was nearly impossible to see. Once he nearly fell over a large chunk of stone and once he nearly tripped over a lifeless body.

Flashbacks from the final battle of Hogwarts pulled at him but he did his best to ignore them. He tried not to think about his best friend lying limp in Hagrid's arms, his mother's wailing when she found her dead son, and most of all, his brother's lifeless eyes. And slowly, step-by-step, he made it clear of the auror headquarters and out onto the main street of Ville Cachee where he promptly fell to his knees as every shop, business and building around him burned.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione heard footsteps approaching through the dense jungle that had once been the Malfoy Manor garden. She wiped the tears from her face, feeling childish for being so emotional. She dreaded the thought that Draco Malfoy might find her with tearstains on her cheeks and laugh that cruel, haughty laugh of his.

Much to Hermione's relief, it was Ginny Weasley who found her. “I wanted to give you some space to think about things, but being left alone with Draco Malfoy is unbearable.”

Hermione managed a short laugh at Ginny's comment and moved over on the stone bench to leave room for the red headed girl to join her. “Are you freaking out?” Ginny asked in a no-nonsense tone.

“Yes” Hermione admitted, gulping.

“Because you didn't know he was in love with you? If it helps, I don't think he knows either. Not entirely.”

“I think I DID know” Hermione admitted with sigh. “I just didn't want to accept it, it seemed too impossible, too…”

“Scary?” Ginny guessed.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I don't know, the terrified look on your face?” Ginny laughed. “You looked far calmer at the Battle of Hogwarts than you do right now.”

Hermione laughed genuinely this time, and it felt better than crying somehow- more cathartic. “I don't know how I could be afraid of anything to do with Harry. I mean he's Harry, he's my…”

“Don't say best friend” Ginny sighed. “I know he's your best friend, but don't you realize there's a lot more to it than just that?”

I was going to say my everything Hermione realized with a jolt of surprise. It sounded so melodramatic that she was suddenly glad that Ginny had made the wrong assumption.

“When you were staying at the Burrow, after Harry broke out of the Auror holding cell and everyone thought he had gone evil and insane, Ron told me that you feared you couldn't exist without Harry. I think that's a little more than just feelings of friendliness. I was in love with Harry once… in my own way… but I've never felt quite that way about anybody. I saw the look on your face when we got the letter from Malfoy saying that Harry was in trouble. It was only there for a moment, but I saw how scared you were for him. You're never scared like that for yourself- hell, while most of us were dealing with pimples and crushes you were out facing the evil and certain death. But when Harry was ever hurt…”

“I hurt too” Hermione admitted, closing her eyes.

“You're in love with him too” Ginny stated simply. “Why can't you accept that? Why is it so scary for you? To have what's obviously between the two of you… most people would die for that, and few people ever experience it.” There was a tinge of jealousy in Ginny's voice, and she tried to conceal it but it bled through nonetheless.

“Unfortunately, me and Harry aren't most people. Everything involving us has always been complicated. We're usually too busy saving other people or saving each other to think about just stopping and being happy. I don't know if it's possible for us. But none of this matters right now. If Tom Riddle's soul is attached to the part of Harry's consciousness that's in love with me, how can we remove it?”

“Well that part is fairly simple” said a drawling voice that made both girls jump. Draco Malfoy turned the corner from behind one of the unruly bushes and stood before them, both arms crossed over his black button-up shirt. “We need to remove the part of Potter that's in love with you. We need to make him forget you.”

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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12. Chapter 12: Forever

Author's Note: Thanks as always to those of you who stop in and review . I believe that for many of you, this is the chapter that you've been waiting for and I hope it was worth the wait! As a side note, this story isn't even halfway over yet, so there is still a lot of crazy shit that's going to go down… stay tuned!

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CHAPTER 12: Forever

We need to make him forget you. Draco's words rang in Hermione's ears, clouding her thoughts.

“It won't be enough to use a temporary memory charm and restore his memory later. A memory charm like that doesn't remove the memory- it just hides it from the individual's consciousness until it can be later resurfaced by an incantation.”

“I know about memory charms” Hermione barked, her voice dry and scratchy in her throat. She remembered watching as her parents forgot who she was and blissfully left for a life in Australia. She remembered that painful feeling of realizing that they really were better off, safer without her. The only consolation had been that she could later restore their memories. This time, there would be no restoring Harry's memories of her. He'll forget meeting me on the Hogwarts Express, saving me from the troll, solving the mystery of the Sorcerer's Stone, traveling through time together, saving Sirius, laughing together, fighting together, facing death together. He'll forget the times I saved him, the times I hugged him, the times I kissed his cheek, his brow, his messy black hair.

“There has to be another way” Hermione said, and her voice was so desperate that it caught Draco off guard. He had known Granger to be many things- bossy, a know-it-all, a top notch student, a meddling Gryffindor, a war hero… but never had he seen her look lost like this. No I saw it once before. When Belletrix was torturing her. Yet somehow, this is worse.

Instead of feeling pity for her, he oddly felt pity for himself, and that was most troubling. Nobody will ever love you like this. Nobody will ever be desperate for you in this way, even if you are on your last breath. The voice in his mind sounded strangely like that of his father reprimanding him.

“We'll find another way” Ginny was promising Hermione, wrapping her arm around the older girl as though she could somehow ward off heartbreak. “There's always another way in magic. Isn't that right Malfoy?”

Ginny wasn't sure why she asked Malfoy, the bitter, loveless boy that he was. But to her great surprise, in a soft tone he said, “yes”.

*******************************

Luna opened her eyes and instantly regretted it as the pain in her head was excruciating. As she pressed her eyelids closed once more she heard a kind, grandmotherly voice instruct her to open her mouth. A moment later a sour liquid was being poured down her throat and when she opened her eyes again the pain was gone.

Standing on one side of the hospital bed was an elderly woman dressed in nurses' garb and on the other side was Ronald Weasley, who she suddenly realized was holding her hand. He abruptly let go as she looked at him and he gave her a sheepish grin. “Glad to see you're awake.”

“You'll need to take another hour to rest up” the nurse instructed. “Then you should be able to leave.”

Luna thanked her, her voice a bit thick still from the potion. Once the nurse had walked away she asked Ron what had happened and his smile vanished instantly. He told her about the explosion and how she had suffered a concussion so he had carried her from the building only to find that Ville Cache was being burned to the ground. He had nearly splinched both of them trying to get them to a magical hospital located outside of Paris.

“So Damon's attacked then?” Luna asked, closing her eyes again, this time not from pain but from fatigue. “I was hoping there could be some peaceful resolution.”

“Well, you heard what that wing bat Brigitte Mouzon said. They believe that they're going to improve the magic world, and it's clear that they believe that to their very core. If they have to shed some blood to make it happen, they're going to. And since we're not simply going to hand our lives over to them, I guess war is inevitable.”

“I suppose there's almost some solace in just accepting that” Luna sighed. It was the uncertainty before violence that gave her true anxiety. Once war announced itself there was nothing to do but “keep calm and carry on” as the expression went. She turned her head and looked out the window to see beautiful gardens outside the building. “It's pretty here. I've never been outside of Paris.”

“I wish we here under better circumstances” Ron agreed, and he blushed at the almost romantic connotation of his words. Luna found his bashfulness charming. She knew that he had a reputation as being a bit of a player since the war had ended, and she wondered what about her made him shy.

“Is there any word from Britain? They aren't under attack too are they?”

“No, I talked to Mum and all is quiet there, and at all the other magical communities around the world. The attack has shocked everyone of course- we're the only ones who know who's behind it. We'll have to fill the Minister in fully when we return, and I'll expect he'll want to let the other political agencies know what's happening.”

“So they only attacked Ville Cache… but why? Was it because we were asking questions? Did we bring death and destruction to those people?” Luna suddenly felt tears bite at her eyes as she realized that their actions could have added up to such terror.

“I think, in a way yes…” Ron admitted. “But we didn't do anything to invoke such cruelty. We can't blame ourselves- all we did was seek answers and they responded with death. Luna- it's not our fault.”

She sniffled, trying to keep the tears from falling and she felt Ron take her hand in his once more so she opened and eyes again and looked into his blue eyes and saw a shocking amount of sincerity there. She felt almost as though he was looking inside of her; nobody had ever looked at her that way and it shook her.

“At least now we know more about the enemy. The more we know, the better we can strategize. I've learned a few things from Harry and Hermione about stuff like this, but I can't do it without you. We'll need to convince those in power to take this seriously, but we'll need to do so with caution. Your past with a Quibbler makes you much better suited to this task than I am alone… can I count on you?”

“Always Ronald.”

*********************************

Due to the fact that the three of them were somehow unable to accept the solution that Harry should live in a world where he never knew Hermione, they committed their focus back to the library, as though books would hold some answer they had missed. As though books could give answers to matters of the heart.

Malfoy was right were the three words that kept echoing in Hermione's mind. The only way to stop Riddle from taking over Harry's mind is to erase Harry's memory of me… or to kill him. Both solutions sent an icy sensation over her body and made reading the text in front of her nearly impossible. While it should be preferable that Harry live, even without knowing who she was, a selfish part of her was certain that she herself could not live in a world where only she had all those memories of what had transpired between them- the good and bad alike. I could show him afterwards- I could use the pensieve. And then maybe he could fall in love with me again, and then maybe we could try to be happy… together.

But she knew that no pensieve would ever bring back the sensations of those moments- the feeling of one's heart pounding, the sensation of relief when they were near each other, the taste of splitting a chocolate frog by the lake while puzzling out a mystery. Those were the sorts of feelings he would never regain- and could he even be in love with her without those memories?

Does it matter if he's in love with me? He'll be alive, he'll be cured. I've only just now accepted that there's something strong between us. I probably never would have accepted it if this wasn't happening. I would have lived my whole life not acknowledging my deeply buried feelings and I probably would have married, even had children with a man who I loved- just not the way I love Harry.

I love Harry. I love Harry. I love Harry. The words echoed through her head and suddenly she slammed the book closed with much agitation, causing both Draco and Ginny to look up at her suddenly. She turned from the room, somehow feeling that she knew what to do but not knowing what that meant exactly. She just let her feet lead her.

Draco rose to follow her, and Ginny grabbed his wrist tightly, but not cruelly, pulling him back down in the seat. The sudden personal contact gave Draco a strange feeling. He realized he couldn't recall the last time someone had touched him with the slightest bit of kindness in their gesture. Her hand lingered for a moment and he missed it when she withdrew it.

“I think we should give her a moment” Ginny explained. “She always figures something out.”

“I bet that drove you crazy when you and Potter were together” Draco snidely commented, his reflex for being cruel kicking in.

Ginny didn't look offended though, simply responding with a resigned smile. “Hermione is my best friend really. I can't hate her for being brilliant, in fact I am proud to know her. But did I feel envious of the way Harry adored her? Of course… who wouldn't want to be felt about that way?”

***********************

Harry could no longer hear Tom Riddle speak. He had managed to block him out and had entered a weirdly silent world. Either it was through extreme self control or it was because he was losing consciousness. Draco has given him some potions for his broken ribs but all they had really done was numb the pain and speed up the healing a bit. He was having trouble breathing again and the cut under his eye from his and Draco's standoff was throbbing. Or maybe I can't hear anything because I'm slipping away into nothingness.

If Riddle was going to take over his body he would need to kill himself. He knew this deeply and resolutely. He also knew there was an afterlife of some kind, and that death did not need to be a scary thing. But it felt like there was something he needed to stick around for, and that nagging, incessant feeling made him cling to life with every fiber of his being.

He studied the silent Tom Riddle as he paced around the destroyed room, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Harry had heard before that some things about his features and mannerisms reminded people of a young Riddle. There was a time when Harry could even see it himself, and it had frightened him more than anything. Well, almost anything. Right now he could no longer see the resemblance. Riddle had re-imagined himself as a nineteen year old, so he looked a few years younger than Harry did now. He was wiry as Harry had once been, but auror training had packed muscle onto Harry's once slender seeker frame. Where Harry knew his eyes looked bright green like his mother's, Riddles were dark and murky. Even Riddle's mouth was different- a thin, cruel looking pale red line.

Despite Riddle's dark features, he was handsome and it made Harry wonder how the boy had once felt as dark magic had destroyed his youthful features and turned him into a monster. Feel some remorse Tom Harry thought once more.

The door suddenly opened and both Harry and the hallucination that was Tom Riddle turned to look in surprise. A moment later Hermione was inside and Harry tried to stand but his ribs were aching and he fell back against the wall.

“You need to get out of here, it's not safe, I'm not safe to be around…” Harry tried to yell, trying to sound stern and serious but in his own ears his voice just sounded tired and desperate. At least I'm not deaf he thought to himself. He looked over at Riddle who looked excited, a gleam in his eye. “Something is not right, this is what he wants, I can tell. He wants me to hurt you or…”

Harry never got to finish the sentence because Hermione was not listening but simply walking resolutely towards him. He could tell she had been crying but there was a gleam in her eye, that look of defiance that he so admired her for. He looked back towards Riddle who looked downright mirthful and he opened his mouth to warn her again but she was kneeling before him now and she was touching his face, guiding his gaze back towards hers. He looked into her eyes, into that familiar chocolate brown gaze, and he instantly remembered everything they had been through together, remembered how she had always been his tether back to sanity. As he looked into her eyes he forgot about the pain in his ribs and the cut on his face and the fact that Tom Riddle had returned. All he saw was her.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn't the same way she had kissed him many times before. Not a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek or a peck on the corner of his mouth. It was kiss that started sweet and sincere and as his mouth opened to hers it deepened into something fiery and explosive and soon she was straddling his lap, her fingers running through his recently cut hair as his hand found its way to the small of her back.

Stop this he told himself. Some part of him was screaming that he needed to make it stop, that it was all wrong, that the universe was about to shatter. But most of him was melting into her embrace and he felt as though some invisible weight he had been carrying for a long time had disappeared. He felt like he had been cold for so long that he only just remembered what it was like to feel warm.

When she stopped kissing him there was none of the awkwardness in her eyes that he feared, nothing of regret and uncertainty. There was a look he had never seen before, and he didn't understand it. “Do you love me Harry?” she asked breathlessly, still holding his face gently in her hands.

“I…” nooooo, don't do it! shouted a voice deep from within him. “I do. You know I do.”

“Are you in love with me?”

Shut up now, it's not too late to stop all this! Your love will kill her, and then you'll truly be all alone, back in that cupboard, unnoticed and unloved. “Yes” he heard himself say instead. “How could I not be in love with you?”

As he said those words, something seemed to click within him and all of the sudden he felt himself emerging from a sort of trance-like state. She shifted slightly away from him as he looked around the room as though he was seeing the world in a different way for the first time. And he realized that Riddle was gone.

“I don't understand…” Harry muttered. “He's gone.”

“I was hoping it would work” she responded cryptically, smiling shyly for the first time, her eyes downcast. “He's not really gone though. He's still around, but you took the power he had away from him. He was leaching off of a strong emotion hidden inside of you. Now that you've taken claim of that emotion you should be able to control it instead of letting him control you.”

“Love?” Harry shook his head confused. “But how did you know that I…”

“With much persuasion” Hermione admitted. “Somehow hearing Draco Malfoy say that you were in love with me made it seem like it had to be true. He would never say something like that just to be nice. I don't think he even knows how to be nice.”

“He doesn't. That ferret is a total prat.” He said the words so seriously that suddenly they were both laughing. Not a casual, light laugh of relief but full out, breathless laughing like they had laughed when they were students at Hogwarts. Harry's ribs ached terribly from the laughter but he couldn't stop and didn't want to.

“I'm so glad you're going to be okay” she said when they'd finally stopped, resting her head on his shoulder as she had a thousand times before.

“You saved me again” he sighed, slipping his hand into hers.

“Not entirely. You look a bit beat up.” She said, looking at his blood stained cheek.

As always, he was a combination of touched and confused by her concern for him. She was the first person is his memory to come running when he was hurt and now he wanted to ask her a question but was too scared. “I figured you'd be used to seeing me beat up by now” he joked, trying to brush it off. “Just another scar to add to the collection.”

“I have another one now too” she admitted, touching the still sore part of her abdomen from the injury she had sustained in France. He reached to where she was touching and without asking lifted her shirt to see the scar beneath it, touching it gently with the tips of his fingers. There was a warm feeling where he touched her and at first she thought it was just her hormones reacting but when he lifted his hand both the pain and the scar has disappeared.

“How…?” she whispered, looking into his intense emerald eyes.

“I don't know” he responded and she wanted to kiss him again but then there was a noise in the doorway and they both looked up.

Ginny was standing there, Draco just beyond her shoulder looking stern from the shadows. “We just got word from Ron. Ville Cache has been attacked. The French Ministry of Magic has been burned to the ground.”

**********************

“Thank Merlin we didn't have to take that bloody metal flying contraption again” Ron huffed as he and Luna left the Minister of Magic's office. As soon as Luna's head had stopped pounding they had departed from the hospital in France and used the International Floo system to travel to the British Ministry. Their mission was no longer a secret and time was of the essence, so they didn't even try to hide their tracks.

At the Ministry they had met with the Minister, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few other key members of the Wizengamot. Mr. Weasley had been so relieved to see that they weren't harmed that he had instantly pulled the two of them into a big hug, babbling about how Molly would have killed them if they'd gone and gotten themselves murdered.

The meeting had been brief as there wasn't much to say. They filled everyone present in on Harry and Draco's discovery about the mysterious Damon, an international ringleader with a knack for Mental Channeling and an obsession with re-organizing the wizarding world. They told them about Brigitte Mouzon and how they had captured and questioned her, affirming that Damon was very old, very powerful and very hell-bent on total control. They finished their story with the sudden attack on Ville Cache, indicating that Damon knew they were onto his cult and that he would no longer wait for peaceful opportunity to seize power; he would take it by violent force. Even if that meant sacrificing some of his own.

Then came the questions they couldn't answer; where was Damon now, who were his followers, how could they prepare to fight against Mental Channeling, when and where Damon would attack next. The Minister seemed rather irritated that Ron and Luna didn't have these answers, which Ron thought was a bit ridiculous since they wouldn't know the little they currently did if it weren't for the risks that Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna had taken.

When there was nothing left to tell Ron and Luna had been dismissed as though they were little children and they were now headed back to the floo hub. As they walked down the halls, Ron stopped suddenly and Luna nearly failed to notice until she was a few long paces ahead of him.

“What is it Ronald?” she asked, tilting her head in question.

“Luna… are you sure you're okay with going to Malfoy Manor? I mean, I was only a prisoner there for a little while and even I'm okay with admitting that I'm a bit afraid of going back to that gloomy hell hole.”

She smiled kindly at him and a small part of his mind noted how pretty she looked when she smiled at him. “It's very kind of you to be so worried about me Ronald, but I've come to terms with my nightmares about being their prisoner. And I don't blame it on Draco Malfoy… in fact, he was the only one who was somewhat kind to me while I was there.”

“Malfoy?!” Ron exclaimed, saying the blonde haired man's last name like it was something filthy.

“Yes, he would sneak me food from the kitchens and other things like a blanket or a fresh jumper. He never said anything, but there was always a look in his eyes like he felt sorry and wished he could do more.”

“He could have let you out” Ron growled, not ready to accept that there was a single human fiber in his boyhood enemy.

“Yes, and then his family certainly would have been killed by Voldemort. Nothing is black and white Ronald, it's good to remember that. Something good things are done for bad reasons, and sometimes bad things are done for good reasons.”

They were approaching the floo hub now and he wasn't sure what else to say. There was something about her ethereal way of speaking that he was coming to find to be relaxing. “Are you sure you're okay with this?” he asked her one last time.

“Yes, we're going to see our friends so I'm actually quite excited. Especially since Harry is alright according to the owl from Ginny.”

“Leave it to Hermione to figure it out, no matter how complicated it gets” Ron said with a broad grin. Luna have him a somewhat strange look and then she disappeared into the green flames, shouting “Malfoy Manor!”

When Ron shot through the floo he nearly bumped into her with full force, but she neatly side stepped him and he landed on his face, giving his forehead a good knock on the way.

“Sorry about that Ronald” she said in her usually light tone, but he could have sworn there was something hidden in her voice that suggested she was not very sorry at all.

Rubbing his head he stood up and took in the odd scene before him. His friends were all sitting in the parlor of Malfoy Manor as though it was the most ordinary thing ever. He scoffed at the black furniture, silver snake details and expensive chandelier above his head.

“Don't like my house Weasel?” asked a snide voice that sounded exactly the same as it once had at Hogwarts. “I suppose it doesn't compare to the moth-eaten blankets and hand-me-down furnishings of that hovel you call the Burrow.”

Ron spun towards where Draco Malfoy was leaning lazily against the door jamb, dressed impeccably in a fitted black button up and well-pressed slacks. Ron felt a bit self conscious about the fact that he was still in soot covered, blood stained clothing, but he was mostly infuriated about the jab regarding the Burrow, his beloved childhood home that had only been taken from him a week before. Of course, Draco didn't know about the Burrow getting burned down as Harry had assured Ron when they last spoke that he would not tell Malfoy any more information than what he absolutely needed to know.

“If it makes you feel better Ron, I think it's awfully morbid and ugly in here myself” said another voice, and Ron turned back to really look at Harry for the first time. His hair was different, but that wasn't what shocked him so much as the fact that Harry looked changed in a greater way. It's in his eyes… it's not a new look, it's how he used to look when we were younger, before he killed Voldemort and gave every part of his life over to chasing evil. He looks lighter. “Actually, we fucked the room up pretty good the other day. Malfoy did a right proper job of restoring it to its former hideous state.”

“Well, ugly knows ugly Potter” Malfoy retorted, but there wasn't the same venom in his voice he used to have when addressing The Boy Who Lived. In fact, Ron could have sworn there was a bit of laughter in Malfoy's silver eyes.

“Alright then mate?” Ron asked, deciding to ignore Malfoy altogether for as long as possible, and redirecting his attention to Harry who was sitting back on a sofa, Hermione seated on the other end and Ginny in an armchair on left hand side.

“Still mending these broken ribs Malfoy gave me, but I'm no longer hallucinating Tom Riddle so yeah, I'm doing much better. How about you? You look a little bloody.”

“Damon's attacked Ville Cache” Ron frowned, ineffectually rubbing at Luna's bloodstain on the front of his white t-shirt. “Everything you suspected is right. He's going to start attacking now and we're not even close to ready… we, I mean…”

“You sound tired Ron” Hermione commented, concern in her voice. “When did you last rest?”

“I don't know… maybe two days ago? It's all become a blur. You lot don't look much better, with the exception of Malfoy who seems to have been focusing on catching up on his beauty rest while the rest of us were working.”

“I'm glad you think I'm beautiful Weasley, but I also haven't slept in a while. Potter is probably the only one here who has probably rested, and that's only because I knocked him unconscious.”

Ron was about to say something in response but Ginny interrupted. “Maybe we should all get some sleep. I know that I for one can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Brilliant Gin, but what if while we're all having a slumber party here at Malfoy Manor, Diagon Alley goes down in flames?”

“Well, we're hardly going to prevent that from happening in the next eight hours” Ginny argued. “Sadly, we have to accept that we're next to useless right now, and the only thing that might make us more useful would be sleep.”

Ron couldn't argue with her logic, and even if he could, he was admittedly too tired to do so. “We've spoken with the Minister and he's going to inform the other magical world leaders. Soon, every magic community should be on high alert.”

“That's good Ron” Hermione nodded. “You did good.”

“It was Luna more than me” Ron shrugged. “I've never been good with words but she described exactly what they needed to know.”

“Imagine that Ron, a girl who has a brain, not just big boobs” Ginny snorted. Ron glanced sidelong at Luna and noted once more that she did have rather nice breasts. He didn't want Luna to think he had checked her out though, so instead he just stuck his tongue out in a juvenile gesture directed at his sister.

“Well, if this teenaged conversation had ended, I suppose I'll show you to the guest rooms” Malfoy sighed. “I've already disgraced this household enough by letting Potter stay here and destroy half of my property. I suppose I can't sink much lower so I might as well offer you beds.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming” Ginny said sarcastically, but there was something in her tone that almost verged on flirtation and that did not sit well with Ron. I'm probably imagining things he decided as Malfoy led them to what he referred to as the “East Wing”. After all, I am very tired.

“There are twenty guest bedrooms in this wing. They're all basically the same design and set up, but choose whichever ones you prefer. I will be staying in my room, which I will not tell you how to find because I prefer if my sleep isn't interrupted by any of you obnoxious do-gooders. Oh, one more thing. These rooms were typically stayed in by my parents' Death Eater friends, and there were also probably a half dozen murders here at various points in history, so if you have nightmares that may be why. Sleep tight!”

“Ass” Ron growled as Draco walked away, but when he looked at Ginny he could swear that she was studying Malfoy's ass as he walked away. It's just my imagination.

“Goodnight everyone” Luna said airily, turning into the nearest room and closing the door firmly behind her. Ginny waved absently and did the same so that only the trio was left standing in the hallway.

“Well, I guess I'll-” Ron started but he was cut short by one of Hermione's classic bear hugs.

“I'm so glad you're alright Ron” she said softly in his ear. “I'm glad we're all together again.”

“I'm glad you're okay too” he responded, wrapping his arms around her in turn, feeling the warmth of her embrace wash through his weary bones and make him feel whole again. “I don't know what we're going to do. I'm afraid that we can't win this time.”

“We always win” Hermione said her tone light and joking but the expression in her brown eyes was troubled as she pulled back from him. He wanted to say something wise and he felt like if Luna was standing there she would have had just the right words for the moment and would know just what to say to reassure them all in her odd way. He did not know the words though so he gave her a light kiss on the forehead, gave Harry a brotherly pat on the back and then turned into one of the many empty rooms to seek a sleep he was afraid would not come.

Once Ron had left Hermione turned to Harry, suddenly realizing that they were alone in the quiet and there were still so many unsaid things, so many puzzling emotions and questions to be asked. But she was just too tired to tackle it all so she walked into one of the rooms and sat on the bed, taking her shoes off. When she was done she looked out into the dark hallway and realized that he hadn't followed her like she assumed he would. In fact, he was gone altogether.

What if Riddle's returned? What if it didn't work, what if Riddle's taken control of him?

A feeling of panic welled up inside of her and she jumped up, running barefooted across the icy cold marble floors, turning out into the hallway so quickly that when she collided with someone she wasn't even sure whom it was. Strong arms kept her from falling and the scent of fresh cut grass and spearmint flooded her senses.

“For Merlin's sake Harry! You scared the bloody hell out of me!” she shouted, and he could have laughed at her use of swear words, but she was shaking slightly in his arms and he realized how much he'd scared her.

“I'm sorry, I was just… I wasn't sure…” he felt idiotic, like the least romantic, thick headed bloke in the universe. Sure, I suck at talking to girls but this is HERMIONE, the girl who knows more about me than I know about myself. I don't have to try so bloody hard. When he remembered that little fact he let his impulses take over and he reached up, cupping her cheek in his hand so that she was looking up at him. And then he kissed her until she stopped shaking.

“I didn't know if you wanted space” he said gently when they parted. “Believe me, I don't want to be apart from you but I thought that due to everything that has happened you might want to have time to yourself.”

Hermione realized it was very thoughtful of him, and gentlemanly that he didn't just expectantly follow her into the bedroom. Yet she also thought he wasn't telling the whole truth and she suddenly felt self-conscious. HE wants time apart from me. Of course he does, just because we kissed I can't expect we'll fall into this epic love story. There's going to be all sorts of awkwardness to figure out. “I understand” she said, lowering her eyes and stepping away from him. “I'll see you in the morning then.”

“Um, alright” Harry responded, baffled. “Unless… you want me to stay with you?”

Maybe he's already bottled whatever supposed feelings he had for me away again. Who was I kidding? I'm not going to change him- he's put himself in an emotional shell since he was a child. If there is a perfect woman out there for Harry I'm not her. Self doubt was flooding into her with full force now and she just wanted to close the door behind him and go to sleep and start tomorrow the same way she had started today- blissfully unaware that she was in love with Harry Potter.

“Areyouinlovewithme?” he asked her suddenly, his voice so rushed that she could barely make out the words. She turned back towards him stunned. “I mean, I know you figured out my feelings for you, and I guess me facing them myself is what stopped Riddle. And I'll be forever thankful for that, but if you don't feel the same way, I'll understand.”

She suddenly felt like she wasn't looking at a veteran hero, but a scared little boy who had been stuffed in a closet growing up and told that he was no good. In his familiar green eyes he looked insecure and downright scared. His fists were clenched at his sides as though bracing himself for what was about to come, as though he was sure of rejection.

“For how smart you and I can usually be, we were both very blind to our own feelings Harry. I've been in love with you since the day you saved me from that bloody troll. I didn't know it then because I was just a little girl. And then when I was older, I knew what the feelings meant but I was afraid. Afraid that if I admitted that I was in love with you, and you somehow felt the same way I would lose myself entirely, and if you died… if you died I would die too. And you were always so close to death. It was easier to bury the feelings than to face that fear.”

“I was afraid you would die too. Everyone who I love dies. I'm still afraid.” As he said that he felt a strange sensation as though the world had shifted under his feet for just a moment, and then there was a faint whisper he could not make out. But then it was gone.

Hermione did not miss the sudden change in his demeanor. “Just then, did you hear him? Did you hear Riddle?”

“It was just a whisper, but it was him. I thought he was gone? I still don't fully understand.”

“He's not gone” she sighed, feeling so weary in that moment. She briefly explained to him about the principles of the werewolf fang pensieve and how a piece of the werewolf's soul is able to bind itself to his fangs due to the fundamental nature of the relationship between a werewolf and his fangs. “Just as it did when you defeated Voldemort as a baby, a small piece of Voldemort's soul escaped the last time you defeated him. This time though, he used a form of magic called Soul Binding. So this time he had all of his memories and he had a consciousness of his own. But for it to work, he had to bind to some part of you that was essential your being.”

“My love for you” Harry guessed.

“Yes, it was hidden deep in your consciousness, and therefore it was a great place for him to hide, and it was also powerful enough to sustain him.”

“So for five years, I've been carrying Riddle around with me like a stow away in my head?”

“Unfortunately...yes. And he's still there, only you have better control of him again. The only part I still don't know is why he only just started to surface lately.”

Harry frowned, running his fingers through his freshly cut hair. She wondered about when he had found time for a haircut but decided it was rather irrelevant at the moment. “I think I know” he finally sighed. “Do you remember that day a few months back when you got home and I had made a mess of your house?”

“Yes, if by a mess you mean you nearly bled to death!”

“I didn't nearly bleed to death. I did die.” She didn't realize she was holding her breath but suddenly she realized she could hear her heartbeat pounding heavily in her chest. “I had been wounded badly and in my dazed state I didn't think to go to the hospital… I only thought to go to you. I was losing a lot of blood and of course you were at work, so I made my way to the medicine cabinet but by the time I got the bottles of blood replenishing and healing potions, I was losing consciousness. I managed to swallow them down, but as the last drop went into my lips I was so weak that I passed out. In the few seconds it took for the potion to affect me, I died. My last thought was of you and I knew, in that moment, that of all I've done in my life, the thing I am proudest of is having loved you. Even though I may have never acted on it, it kept my soul from becoming evil… my love for you made me better.”

She realized she was crying and she wiped the tears hastily away. “That realization must have been like blowing the dust off of an old glass, allowing Tom Riddle to truly see out for the first time. From there, his consciousness just grew.”

“I had him under control until Draco did that stupid Odyssea potion” Harry complained.

“Yes, I think the potion fragmented your consciousness, allowing you to literally see him and speak to him face to face. Actually, now that you've taken ownership of your feelings and can control him again, what the Odyssea potion did to you might work in our favor.”

“You sound like Malfoy now” Harry said in his fatigued stupidity.

“I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that” she replied with mock indignation. “What I mean is, now that you control him you may be able to call him out to speak to you on your terms. You may be able to get him to give us more information on Mental Channeling.”

“Do you think so?” Harry asked, grinning at the thought of being in charge of Riddle for round 2 (or would it be round 3 now? he was losing count). “Let's not try tonight though. I've had quite enough conversation with him for the time being.”

“Of course” she said with a soft smile, but her eyes were sad.

“You never answered my question. Did you want me to stay with you?”

“Forever” she responded as she wrapped her hand around his forearm and pulled him into the room.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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13. Chapter 13: Redemption

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on getting this posted! Work has been insanity. As a precaution, Ron is a bit of a prat in this chapter. I hope I didn't paint him in too bad of a light, I just felt that there was a bit of fall out to be handled and this is how I envisioned it. There's still a lot left to this story so I hope you'll all stick around for the journey!

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CHAPTER 13: Redemption

Waking up in the morning was more like waking up to a new life than simply to a new day. After Hermione had pulled Harry into the room with her he had taken off his shirt and crawled into bed, falling asleep the instant his head hit the pillow. She could barely keep her own eyes open, but she had taken the moment to study him, glancing at the scars on his chest, lightly tracing the new one under his eye with the tips of her fingers. She recalled how he had touched the scar on her stomach and made it disappear and she wondered how he had done it. She wondered how many more secrets there were to this man sleeping before her. She wondered if life would be kind enough to grant them many years together to uncover those secrets.

When she laid down he automatically moved in his sleep, draping his arm over her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. She fell asleep feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin and she dozed off with a sense of being safe. When she awoke, neither of them had moved and he was still sleeping. She felt loath to wake him but when she tried to move away his eyes fluttered open and then they were staring at each other, less than an inch apart. She noticed how dark his eyelashes were and wondered why she had never realized that before. She was also suddenly aware of the fact that he was bare chested and while she had seen him half naked many times before, it had always been more… clinical.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, finally rolling away and allowing her brain functions to return.

“Yes, I don't recall having any dreams thankfully. You?”

“Best sleep I've had since before I can remember.” He smiled at her and she felt her heart skip a beat. This is going to take some getting used to she realized to herself. It wasn't that she had never felt swoony around Harry before. That fact of the matter was that he had grown up to be quite handsome with his piercing emerald eyes and raven black hair. Then there was his body. He had always been athletic from Quidditch, but he had filled out with hard muscle from his work as an auror. Yes, she had felt a bit lustful towards him from time to time, but now there was an option to do something about it and she felt rather inadequate and nervous.

“You cut your hair” she blurted out, suddenly desperate for a distraction as she turned away from him to put her shoes back on. Even with her back turned she could feel his silent laughter and that made her feel even more anxious for some reason. “What's so funny?”

“Malfoy” Harry grinned.

“What's funny about Malfoy?” she asked flabbergasted. The blonde haired former Slytherin had been just barely tolerable the previous day, which was an improvement from their school days but only barely. He was still sulky, sullen and rude, and in no way “funny”.

“He cut my hair.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, disbelieving. “Are you high on something?”

“No” he replied, laughed even harder now. “But we were at the time. It was just after we drank the Odyssea potion.”

“You allowed Malfoy near you with a sharp object while under the influences of that… that drug?”

“He didn't use scissors” Harry said, his tone very serious. “He is, after all, a wizard.” Something about the way he said it made the laughter she was holding back spill out as she tried to picture hairdresser Malfoy tenderly styling Harry's dark locks. “Don't laugh” Harry said with mock indignation. “Did he do an awful job?”

“No actually” she said, now laughing so hard it hurt. “He's quite good at it!”

“Let's go see if we can find something to eat in this mausoleum” Harry joked, offering her his arm. Together they exited the room and headed into the vast hallway of Malfoy Manor's East Wing.

************************

Ron had been plagued by nightmares of burning to death only to awake with a crick in his neck and to make it all worse his bright hair was positively insisting on standing up straight in an erratic manner. He had tried the spit solution, and even a few simple beauty spells he had learned (in secret) but there was no solving his hair dilemma.

Ron was acutely aware that he had grown up poor, and while he loved his family it had sometimes been a chip on his shoulder, especially when it came to embarrassing matters like having to use a hand-me-down wand or wearing old robes that looked like they belonged to his Great Aunt Tessie. Thus, when he started making good money through the joke shop it had been his goal to no longer look like some poor slob. He had started buying nicer clothing and had even hired a fashion consultant a few times (also in secret) to help improve his look. He no longer let his mother cut his hair and went to a professional in Diagon Alley for his monthly trim. He even worked out by joining an intramural Quidditch team so that nobody would see him as “just another poorer-than-dirt Weasley boy”.

His inspiration for this transformation had been two-fold. First was the matter of wanting to be a different person after the war ended. In order to escape the nightmares he'd been left with, he'd reinvented himself from Harry Potter's sidekick to a slick businessman with a penchant for partying and busty women. While it barely worked, it had been enough to distract him up until the most recent events.

The second reason for his transformation was due to people like Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had always made cruel jabs about the Weasley's being poor and while Ron had quite a few things he could say about the Mafoy family being poor in morality, he could not change his embarrassment about wearing hand knit jumpers and baggy hand-me-down robes with holes in them. Draco's hair was always impeccable, his clothing of the most expensive variety and even his school and Quidditch supplies were shiny new. Next to him, Ron had always felt homely and it was a feeling of inferiority he never wanted to have again.

Yet here he was, at Malfoy Manor, dressed in a torn and dirty t-shirt and soot covered jeans, his hair standing on high alert. Giving up, he made his way into the hallway just in time to see Hermione and Harry leaving from the same room, arm and arm with one another.

The sight locked him place, and unable to move he stood there, an ice-cold feeling of envy climbing through his body. He was still standing there as they walked away, not seeing him, and he was still there a minute later when Ginny popped out of her own room, yawning.

“Ron, what are you doing? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“I-I-I just saw… Harry lied to me!”

“What are you on about?” she asked, the look in her eyes a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Harry lied!” he half roared this time, the tips of his ears burning bright red. “I asked him, back at Grimmauld Place, and he said no, that there was nothing between them, that they weren't… hadn't…”

“Bloody hell Ron, is this about Harry and Hermione?” she burst out, almost laughing.

“Don't tell me I'm making shit up Gin, I saw the two of them, just now, coming out of the same room together, just like when we were at Grimmauld Place, after the Burrow was burned down.”

“Good for them” Ginny said laconically, waving her hand at him in a dismissive nature.

“He LIED to me Ginny, and how can you not be the least bit upset? You were supposedly in love with him for YEARS.”

“First off Ronald, he did not lie. You missed out on quite a bit of romantic revelation yesterday. It was all very dramatic, but let me give you the short version; Harry is and has been in love with our bookworm friend for quite some time. There's a tricky part of the story that involves a thing called soul binding and Tom Riddle, but suffice to say, it suddenly became relevant that Harry open up about his feelings, which in the process opened Hermione up about her own feelings for him.”

Ron just stared at his sister, dumbfounded.

“Okay, really short version. Harry and Hermione are both in love with each other and they both know about it now, but only really realized it yesterday. Therefore, he did not lie to you when he claimed there was nothing between them. At that time there wasn't. Well there was, but neither of them were willing to admit it existed, so really it didn't exist.”

“You're a horrible story teller” Ron grumpily retorted. “None of that makes sense, especially not the part about Hermione being in love with Harry.”

“Oh really Ron, what is so hard to believe about that? You've believed it before if I recall; many times. In fact, I seem to remember you abandoning them both during the horocrux hunt because you feared that she preferred Harry to you.”

“But she DOESN'T!” Ron roared. “She didn't then, she never has!”

“You're still in love with her” Ginny replied, her tone dripping with accusation.

“Of course I am. She's bloody gorgeous and smart and she's always taken care of me…”

“AND you're forgetting that that ship sailed a long time ago. Did it ever occur to you that maybe she doesn't like mothering you and that she doesn't want to be with someone who was too daft to see what he had? It might hurt to accept Ron, but she always loved Harry more than she loved you, and we both know that.”

“Just like we both know that Harry loved her more than he ever loved you” Ron retorted, narrowing his eyes at her.

Hearing Ron say the words out loud with such venom in his tone did sting, but Ginny did not react that way he expected. “You're right, he always did, and some part of me always knew it. How could he not love her after everything they'd been through together? Yes, I'll admit it hurts a little. But not because I feel betrayed by them; they have a right to be happy. It hurts because I'm afraid I'll never find that sort of love for myself.”

“She'll come to her senses” Ron said, not wanting to hear what his sister was saying to him.

“What senses? The ones that make her realize it's you who she's always been in love with? Honestly Ron, what scenario is your deluded mind allowing you to believe? Do you think that after eight months of a disastrous relationship followed by you sleeping with every floozy in London the two of you would just fall back into each others' arms?”

Deep down inside, Ron had known that would never happen. In fact, he had even said as much to Hermione back at the Burrow. I can be loyal, and I'd even dare say I can be courageous, but you are more than I can handle. Yes, he had known that they would never work out romantically. Even after the Battle of Hogwarts, some part of him had known he would never be what she wanted, what she needed. Especially now that he was damaged. She wanted to tackle the world head on; he wanted to hide behind a bottle and fill the emptiness the war had left in him with equally empty relationships.

Despite that knowledge, he wasn't ready to truly resign himself to that reality. He still clung to fantasies of her coming to him and telling him how much she loved him, how she had always loved him, how she could never love anyone more than she loved him. He even sometimes imagined them getting married and her giving him red headed babies. He didn't deserve her and he knew that; but it didn't make him want her any less.

It was due to this that he avoided reason and stormed off angrily, leaving behind his sister and the whole conversation, not hearing the muffled cries of Luna Lovegood from behind the closed door of the bedroom where she had spent the night dreaming of a certain stubborn boy.

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Draco Malfoy was annoyed. He had a bunch of insufferable do-gooders under his roof and now they wanted to be fed.

“I don't have any food in the Manor because somebody passed a stupid law forcing me to pay my House Elves.”

“Oh, like you didn't have the money Malfoy” Hermione responded, looking equally annoyed to be in his presence.

“It's not about having the money, it's about not wanting to pay a bunch of filthy, untrustworthy creatures. It was easier to just send them away than to worry about them forming a union and spying on me.”

“That just goes to show how much you know about House Elves, if you took the time…”

Harry cleared his throat loudly, cutting off her tirade. “It makes no difference right now. We need food, clothing and other supplies I'm sure. Now that Malfoy and I are no longer on the `kill on sight' list, I think we could go get some items from Diagon Alley.”

“The Children of Damon could be looking for all of us now” Hermione disagreed. “What if just by going there they attack in the same way they attacked Ville Cache when Ron and Luna were there?”

“Yes Harry, what about that?” asked an icy voice from behind them. They all turned to see Ron standing in the doorway, glowering with anger. “Luna and I only barely escaped with our lives, or do you care?”

“What are you on about?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Before Ron could respond, Ginny shoved her brother out of the doorway. “I say Hermione and I just go shopping the muggle way. We've both done it before so we won't call any attention to ourselves, and it doesn't seem like the Children of Damon think outside of the magical world anyways.”

“That's a good idea. We can apparate to my parents house and go from there.” Harry nodded in agreement, but he simultaneously took her upper arm and guided her away from everyone else and into an adjacent room. Ron was glaring daggers at them both, but neither seemed to notice.

When they were alone, Harry spoke. “I think it's a good idea that you go to your parents house, but that you stay there. I think Ron and Luna should come along as well. I want you all to stay there. Ginny is right, the Children of Damon are only fixated on the magical world; you could all be safe in the muggle world. At least until more of this is sorted out.”

“And who exactly is going to sort it out?” Hermione huffed. “You and Draco Malfoy? I would really rather not leave the fate of our world with the two of you. No offense.”

“It's a war coming, and you're not a soldier. None of you are.”

“We were once” she argued, her eyes lighting up brightly with defiance. “Do you really think that this is your war to fight alone? How many times in life will I have to remind you that we are in it-whatever it may be- together?”

“Probably until you die fighting!” he said, a look of pain on his face. “I can't… I won't let you die. Since we've been here, at Malfoy Manor, all I can think about is what happened to you last time we were here and how it was my fault…”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for every bad thing in the world Harry! What happened to me was Belletrix Lestrange's doing, not yours. I chose to fight with you, I'll always choose to fight with you. And despite what the world thinks, you're not immortal. If I hid away while you fought and you died, I would die too. Don't you see that?”

“No, I don't understand…”

“It's not up for debate. Ginny and I are going. You can lick the wounds to your male pride while I'm gone.”

She nearly walked away but he managed to catch her wrist, pulling her back to him gently but firmly. She remember how fast he was, how strong. But will he be fast enough and strong enough to survive this? When she turned back towards him she was looking directly into his eyes, and the angry resolve in her gaze dissolved instantly. It was only the second time he had looked at her this way, with all of his emotions out in the open for her to see, and it was overwhelming.

“It's not like that… it's not that I think you need to be protected. If anything, I know just how much I need you, how little I'm capable of without your help, and that scares me. Almost everyone I've loved has died, it's hard not to feel as though my love is a death wish upon people. I knew you wouldn't agree to hiding, but I thought I could try. I just don't want you to be mad at me before you go.”

She kissed him then, just a brief embrace, but even then she was surprised by the swell of emotions it brought within her. Will this ever feel normal? she wondered. She hoped not. “I'm not mad at you. I'll be back soon, and we need to talk about how we can use Riddle's Soul Binding trick against him. But please don't try anything until I get back.”

He laughed at the look of concern on his face. “I learned my lesson with that Odyssea mishap. I won't be trying any complicated magic without your help.”

“Good” she smiled, and because she couldn't help herself she kissed him again and then left.

He watched her go and thought it was strange, this desire to snog her senseless and forget about all the evils of the world. It wasn't like he'd never had the urge before; after all, he was male, and after all, she was beautiful. This was just the first time that he realized he could do it and she might not hex him into oblivion.

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When Hermione and Ginny arrived at the Granger's house with a loud POP, both of her parents came running into the room. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise” Mrs. Granger said, wringing her hands nervously. “It's Ginny right? How are you dear?”

“Okay” Ginny replied slowly, sensing the tension in the room. “Mind if I use the loo?”

“Of course not, it's up the stairs… well, you know, you've been here before.”

Ginny nodded her thanks, exchanged a look with Hermione and then charged off to give the family a moment alone.

“We haven't seen you in a few months” Mr. Granger said in a tone of admonition. “How are things with work?”

“I'm sorry, there's been a lot going on” Hermione said, not sure how much to tell them.

“A lot going on” Mr. Granger mimicked. “Of the dangerous nature I presume. Do you intend to erase our memories again?”

“I did that for your protection” she said, tears involuntarily stinging her eyes.

“We know that” Mrs. Granger said in her most soothing tone, shooting her husband a warning look. “But we are worried about you is all. Sometimes, I truly wish that you had never turned out to be a witch, that you had never been introduced to all of this danger.”

“I can see why you would think that” Hermione responded warily, flopping down in a nearby armchair, feeling very much like she had just been ambushed. “And I wish that it hadn't torn this family apart. But it's who I am, and despite the danger of that world it's also wonderful and has so much potential for greatness. I can make a difference, I can help, and so I do what I must. You both taught me that.”

Mr. Granger looked a bit bashful for his former harshness and sat down as well, running his fingers through his greying hair. “Don't get me wrong Hermione, I'm very proud of you and your mother is too. It's just that as a father, you want to protect your little girl. And no matter how old you get, you'll always be my little girl. But I can't protect you, and that drives me mad.”

She stood suddenly and engulfed her father in a hug, which he quickly responded. “I will be careful” she promised him.

“And she's not alone” Ginny said, her voice coming from the top of the staircase as she descended down towards them. “I'll admit that we all rely on your daughter's brilliance, but her friends are nothing if not loyal. We've stuck together in the past, and we'll continue to stick together. And of course Harry won't let anything happen to her. He's in love with her.”

Something passed between the two girls as Ginny said those words. There was a glimmer of sadness in Ginny's eyes, reflecting the final release of any pent up hopes or dreams of a future between her and Harry. Hermione remembered Ginny's words from just days before; I came to terms with the fact that you'll always be the woman he trusts above any other. Ginny may have long ago accepted that truth, but the full reality of it fully sunk in now and there was a loneliness in Ginny's expression, but it quickly vanished. Hermione gave her a thankful smile, and she knew all was well between them.

“Harry? Potter?” Mrs. Granger sputtered, confused. “And how do you feel about this?”

“The same… it's a long story” Hermione sighed, but she gave her mother a kind smile to let her know that she would fill her in on all the details when there was time. It was the first time that they had shared a genuine mother-daughter moment in a long time and some of the tension melted away. She realized her mother looked not only curious, but also happy regarding the news that Harry Potter was in love with her daughter. I imagine that if I ever have a daughter I will feel the same way… doesn't every parent dream that someone deserving will fall in love with their child?

Mr. Granger looked less convinced on how “deserving” Harry was of Hermione, but he did seem relieved to hear Ginny's assurances that Hermione would never face danger alone. His posture relaxed a bit and all he said was, “well, when you do find the time Hermione, you should bring Potter over here. I have a few things I'd like to discuss with him.”

“You mean you want to grill him” Ginny laughed, and Hermione was never more thankful for Ginny's sarcastic humor than she was at that moment. Even Mr. Granger smiled.

“It's not like you've never met the boy” Mrs. Granger scoffed. “You always liked him too from what I recall. Not to mention, we know his whole life story thanks to the way Hermione has endlessly talked about him since she started at Hogwarts.”

Hermione blushed. “Okay, enough of that already. We need to go shopping.”

“Of course you do” Mr. Granger replied, rolling his eyes. “Girls will be girls!”

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Malfoy Manor had been thick with tension from the moment Ginny and Hermione departed. Draco had disappeared to go sulk somewhere in the expanses of his family estate, and Ron had not explained his cold demeanor but retreated to the room where he had slept the previous night. Harry had noticed that Luna still had not come downstairs, but when he went to check up on her she insisted that she was fine, just really very tired.

Thus he had decided to wander aimlessly around the manor. He had a lot of his mind anyways; especially regarding a rather pretty brunette who he had only just realized he was in love with. No, I've known for years he thought as he passed a massive window overlooking the gardens. Cobwebs had grown in the corners and they glistened in the sunlight. I knew I felt something towards her; something powerful and yes, scary. I didn't know what the feeling meant though, and I was also worried that it might kill her.

It still might kill her.

“Potter, can't you just stay in your wing of the house?” Malfoy's voice suddenly asked, a humorous sigh of exasperation in his tone. It was still somewhat strange to Harry that Malfoy had a sense of humor that extended past seeing Harry break a bone or fail publically at something. He's different now. War changed all of us, why shouldn't it have changed him? But is there such a thing as redemption?

“You seem awfully quiet” Malfoy commented, standing next to Harry and frowning at the cobwebs that were half obstructing the view out the window.

“Riddle talked my ear off all day yesterday” Harry joked. “I guess I'm out of conversational topics.”

“Speaking of Riddle, I think it may be possible for you to find out what we need to know from him. I mean, now that you have him in check.”

“I've heard this one before Malfoy” Harry scowled. “Last time it was you convincing me to take odyssea, and now according to Hermione, my conscious is divided in two. He's repressed for now, but maybe just barely. He has the ability to be stronger than ever thanks to your little drug.”

“Sure, but you also have the ability to talk to him now. You said he talked your ear off yesterday, did it ever occur to you in that dense brain of yours that you could have used that to your advantage to get more information on Damon?”

Harry whirled on Malfoy and while they were the same height, Harry's shoulders were wider and more muscled. Still, if Draco felt intimidated by that he didn't show it, he simply glared back at Harry with his peculiar silver eyes. “What should I have said? Hey Riddle, while I've got you here in a hallucinogenic embodiment of my own making, could you give me Damon's address? I need to have a chat with him about not killing everyone in the magical world.”

“It might not have hurt.”

“HE'S NOT IN YOUR HEAD!” Harry exploded, a wave of magic radiating from him and pushing Malfoy back a half step. “Sure, you were stupid enough to try the werewolf pensive and maybe that fucker Fenrir Greyback is echoing around in your mind, but you clearly have it under control… you're okay with it because he didn't murder your parents and destroy your life. Don't even presume to know for a second what it was like for me seeing him in his young, smug form; to hear his voice speak of how my mother screamed, how my father wept, how he could have killed Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets and how he will torture Hermione one day.”

“Listen Potter, I…”

“No Malfoy, I'm done listening to you!” Harry shouted, and the massive window next to them exploded outwards. “The Unbreakable Vow is over! What are you still even doing around here?”

“This is MY house” Malfoy reminded him. “You're free to leave. Or wait… are you? Do you even remember the words to that vow you took Potter? `I vow that I will assist him in finding his parents murderer, so that the truth of their mission will be unveiled and all others will be safe.' We know that Damon is involved, but not that he was the actual killer. You still haven't fulfilled your part. If you walk away now, it's your life that ends.”

“What about your own vow?” Harry scowled. His eyes flickered and for a second Draco saw Riddle's dark gaze peering out.

“I said that I wouldn't prevent you from helping me from finding out who murdered my parents. And I haven't prevented you.”

“So I'm to believe that you're sticking around because you don't want ME to break MY vow? What do you care if I die Malfoy?”

“I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU” Draco snarled, his calm demeanor suddenly evaporating. The halls were shaking now. “I made a decision that I am going to try to seek redemption, and that means fighting for the side of good this time. And unfortunately, that means following you Saint Potter.”

But is there such a thing as redemption? Harry wondered once more. “We need to figure out what is going on with these uncontrollable surges of magic.”

Harry had changed the subject so abruptly that Draco was caught off guard, and the near cave-in they were about to create in the ceiling was prevented as the shaking stopped. “More clean up” he frowned, pulling out his wand to fix the window. Harry unconsciously touched the scar below his eye from the day before. “You're right. It's becoming dangerous. Most of the time I can control it, but that doesn't mean we don't need to figure out why it's happening.”

“I'm sure Hermione will be able to help us now that we're all together.”

Draco gave Harry a sly look as though he was about to say something sarcastic, but he somehow managed to bite his comment back and the two men wordlessly set about cleaning the mess they had made. A moment later they were interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway in their direction and turned to see Ginny Weasley watching, a confused expression on her face.

“What happened here? Did you two get into a lovers quarrel?”

Harry and Draco both immediately protested loudly to her choice of words which simply made her smile in delight. Once they were done talking over each other she announced that there was food in the kitchen, which Draco took as a chance to make an immediate exit from the hallway. Harry lingered for a moment however, and Ginny had the distinct impression he wanted to speak to her.

“Out with it Potter” she prompted, thinking about a particular blueberry muffin she wanted to get to before Ron had the opportunity.

“About Hermione and I...” Harry said slowly, feeling innately uncomfortable. Ginny was used to Harry's discomfort. When they had gotten back together after the war it had taken a long time for him to get past stiff hugs and chaste kisses. He didn't know how to handle his emotions; he had never been taught how. She knew this and accepted it about him. In fact, she found it rather adorable.

“Harry, you really don't owe me any explanation. You and I are ancient history and we'll always be good friend right?”

“Of course!” he answered immediately, a light of sincerity so bright in his eyes that for a moment she missed being in love with him; she missed those sincere looks he would give her whether it was when talking about Voldemort or gazing at her in bed. “I just don't want you to think that there was ever anything before, you know, I don't want you to think that I was in love with her when I was with you.”

She responded with a dry laugh. “Of course you were Harry. I knew it, even back then. I didn't want to admit it but… I knew deep down inside that it was always her, it always will be her.”

“And you weren't mad?” Harry asked, incredulous.

“Maybe jealous, maybe sad… but no, not mad. It's hard at first to accept that someone you're in love with doesn't love you back, but when you do accept it, it's liberating. I want someone to love me the way you love her.”

“You deserve that” Harry said, still feeling a pinch of guilt despite her reassuring words. “You've always deserved that.”

She gave him a weak smile that somehow did not match her eyes but said nothing more on that subject. “Ron is a different matter entirely.”

“You mean he doesn't deserve to be loved?” Harry asked, baffled.

“No! I mean he's not as forgiving as I am. He's never accepted that she chose you over him, even when the evidence was glaring him in the face.”

“She chose- what??” Harry looked utterly lost and she had to smile at how daft he was. “Ron had his chance with her years ago, they ended amicably, they're friends.”

“Ron knew he wasn't mature enough to handle a girl like Hermione at the time. Plus, he was going through a lot of shit, what with our brother dying and all of us becoming war veterans of a particularly nasty battle. But part of him thought that one day he would be ready, that he would be deserving of her.”

“That's insane! Did he think a girl like her would just be sitting around forever, waiting for him? There are loads of blokes who have asked her out. In the meantime he was shagging every girl who was willing to get into bed with him. The fact that he would even think that could possibly be fair to her…”

“He doesn't think that, not really. You know Ron; he's illogical and hot tempered. If she had fallen in love with anyone but you his feelings for her would have faded fully away and he would just be happy for her. But because it's you, all his old feelings of inadequacy are rearing their ugly head, and any hope he had of being with her, however faint and unlikely, has been multiplied.”

“It makes no sense-” Harry protested.

“He's still just not ready to admit that she chose you over him. If he admits that than he'll have to face the truth that he always feared; that even when she was with him, a greater part of her preferred you.” Ginny shrugged as though it was simple and obvious, but Harry's head was still spinning from it all.

Harry nearly protested and insisted that of course Hermione hadn't preferred him over Ron, but he caught himself. It was hard for him to believe but it was true and always had been. She had chosen to stay with him during the horocrux hunt, and in fact, she had always chosen him. Her words from the night before echoed in his ears; I've been in love with you since the day you saved me from that bloody troll.

“You need to talk to Ron before this whole thing blows up” Ginny sighed, taking Harry's arm and leading him away from his thoughts and towards the kitchen.

“We have a lot bigger stuff going on right now than Ron's feelings” Harry frowned, allowing her to guide him.

“Despite the fact that my brother can be a git, you and I both know we're going to need him. Mend this over before he pulls another foolish disappearing act. Do it for everyone's sake.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione felt that she was keeping pace with Ron as they stuffed their faces in the kitchen. Draco Malfoy had come and gone, grabbing something or other and departing without a word. She was glad; she still felt on edge around the former Slytherin. He made her skin crawl and she couldn't help but think about his evil aunt and all the horrible things his family had done. Right now she did not think about that however. She simply fixated on how delicious the toast she was devouring tasted.

Ron was shooting her nasty looks but it took a full ten minutes before she even noticed. “What's wrong Ronald?” she demanded after swallowing her last bite and daintily wiped her mouth clean with a napkin.

“Asifjodono” he replied, his mouth still full.

“Could you please swallow your damned food before you speak? Honestly, I would have thought you'd grow some manners by this age.”

This just made him scowl further and as he took a look swig of milk to wash his food down, Harry and Ginny entered the room arm in arm. Hermione was surprised to feel a strange jolt of jealousy. If she was being honest, it wasn't the first time she had felt jealous of Ginny. The Weasley girl's fiery red hair and flawless ivory skin made her a beauty and she was always dressed in a way that was fashionable and form fitting, revealing her athletic form and perfect posture. She made Hermione feel mousy by comparison.

Furthermore, there was the issue that Ginny had been Harry's first and that they had a long romantic history that started when Ginny was still too young to even attend Hogwarts. Hermione still remembered the time that Ginny had confessed her feelings for Harry at the Quidditch World Cup. Of course, everyone already knew that the younger girl had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but hearing her say it had given Hermione a jolt of jealousy even then. A spiteful part of Hermione had wanted to somehow sabotage the whole thing by saying something like “oh, he just sees you as a sister”. But Hermione had never been a spiteful girl, and she really liked Ginny, in fact, she was the only girl Hermione had ever really gotten along with. So she had given her some sound advice and buried those feelings she had for Harry even deeper away.

Hermione shook off those primitive emotions that made her want to yell “MINE!” and grab him away from Ginny. Soon enough the two had left each others' side anyways and were foraging for breakfast. Ron did not resume whatever he was about to say earlier, but simply stared at Hermione with a look of contempt until she felt tempted to try one of Ginny's famous bat bogey hexes on him.

Once Harry had loaded a plate up with food he took a seat next to Hermione, and Ron's ire only seemed to increase but she somehow cared much less with Harry close by. Harry gave her a kind smile and thanked her for getting food for everyone. She felt like a schoolgirl again the way her heart fluttered when he smiled at her and she felt herself blushing and looked away, deciding to fixate instead on the wall, which allowed her to avoid both boys at the table.

“We need to figure out what's been going on with my wandless magic” Harry said after a long stretch of silence. “Malfoy has been exhibiting bursts of wandless magic too- not as frequent as mine but still powerful.”

“Well, what do you and Malfoy have in common?” Hermione asked, her logical mind glad to have something to latch onto of the less emotional variety.

“They're both total gits” Ron growled, bringing their attention back to his sour mood once more.

“They're both a bit dishy” Ginny offered, effectively getting Ron to shut up immediately.

“You think Draco Malfoy is… how could you even… if our mother EVER… if you EVEN…”

Ginny smiled mirthfully at how wound up her brother had become. “Why don't you bring Luna some breakfast Ron? Or, if you prefer you can stay here and hear me talk about those captivating silver-grey eyes of his…”

“Oi, I'm leaving!” Ron responded, grumpily standing up and storming over to grab a few muffins and some pumpkin juice to bring to Luna. “I'd rather not spend any extra time with you lot anyways.”

Once he was clear of the room Hermione spoke. “What is up with him today?”

“Nothing” Harry said quickly. “I'll deal with it in a little bit.”

It was Ginny's turn to feel a twinge of jealousy this time. Harry's protectiveness of Hermione had always been incredibly sweet but right now it made Ginny feel even more alone than she had as of late. She suddenly became fascinated by the half eaten piece of toast in front of her, afraid that they would be able to read her thoughts and would pity her.

“I'd like to join this conversation as long as the female Weasley can restrain herself from jumping on me” Malfoy drawled from the doorway.

“How long have you been standing there?!” Hermione exclaimed, feeling mortified for Ginny.

Ginny for her part, did not even blush. “I said you were attractive Malfoy, I didn't say you were my type though so don't flatter yourself. If you're looking for someone to have sex with though, I'd recommend Gregory Goyle. I would certainly say you're HIS type, what with the dreamy looks he always gave you.”

“You're surprisingly on point with that assessment Weasley, Goyle was rather enamored by me, but who could blame him? As for me, if it was a choice between shagging you and shagging Goyle I'd say it's a tough decision.”

“Bisexuality can be difficult that way” Ginny nodded solemnly.

Hermione felt she was hearing less of an argument and more a strange verbal foreplay. She decided to interrupt. “We were trying to figure out what you and Harry have in common, and why that might be effecting your magic.”

“Well, there's the obvious stuff” Draco acknowledged, hoisting himself onto a nearby table so that his legs were dangling as he spoke. “We are both around the same age, attended Hogwarts, we're about the same height and build although Potter has gotten a bit blocky…”

“It's called muscle” Harry intervened.

“We played Quidditch, spent some time with Voldemort, and were featured on the cover of Witches Weekly.”

“Harry was featured, you never were” Ginny replied.

“True, but I would have been featured if everyone didn't hate my family so much.”

Hermione, for her part, was marveling for the first time at how similar Harry and Draco actually were in certain respects. Of course, their personality and upbringing differed massively, but she had never considered that there actually some resounding similarities. She had always assumed that if Harry had shaken Malfoy's hand on that first day at Hogwarts, Harry would have been corrupted by Malfoy's darkness. But now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps Harry's goodness would have made Malfoy better. He is the best part of us she remembered saying to Ron. Was it possible he could have become the best part of Malfoy too?

“None of those things have anything to do with your wandless magic and you know that” she snapped. “You're just wasting time. When Harry started exhibiting signs of wandless magic, Kingsley said that something had deeply interrupted his magic at it's very core. Presumably, that something was the piece of Tom Riddle's soul.”

“You've never been any fun, have you Granger?” Malfoy scowled. “The answer is obvious. Both of us have a bit of someone else's soul trapped within us. I have Greyback and he has Riddle. Personally, I don't think we could have picked worse dance partners to be eternally stuck with, but there that is. That's what's affecting our magic and causing these outbursts.”

Draco recalled a memory Greyback had inadvertently shared with him- something Tom Riddle had said once, long ago. Magic is an integral part of beings like you and I, and it can be controlled. A wand is simply a tool to help us, but the mind can be a far more powerful channel. Disgusting creatures like House Elves are able to use magic unaided, think what a wizard with powers such as myself is capable of…

“If we could just find a way to control it” Draco muttered, trailing off.

“Damon can control his wandless magic” Harry observed. “He uses Mental Channeling, whatever that means.”

“I think he's unlikely to teach us” Draco snarled with a look of contempt.

“Unless…” Harry began slowly.

“Unless what?” Draco responded, agitated. Harry cocked his head to the side, pensive. “I know that expression Potter. You're hatching up a half-witted idea. Haven't I ever told you how much I despise your ideas?”

Harry met Draco's gaze, and something passed between them that neither Hermione nor Ginny could read. Is redemption really possible?

********************************

Ron knocked on Luna's bedroom door, still fuming from seeing Harry and Hermione sitting so close together and from his sister's crude sense of humor. The whole morning had started on a bad note and was ending on a bad note. When Luna didn't answer immediately he knocked more furiously, shaking the polished door in its hinges.

“Goodness Ronald, what is the matter?” Luna asked, whipping the door open and looking shocked.

“I just er… I brought you breakfast.”

“That was very nice of you” she said, the distress draining from her eyes and a slight smile appearing across her features. Still, he thought he saw sadness there as well.

“Are you alright?” he asked, handing her the plate and cup and then lingering awkwardly in the door. “You're not still hurt are you?”

“Hurt? No, the mediwitches in France did a marvelous job patching me up. I suppose a wheezing beezle just stole my happiness and I'm feeling a bit morose.”

“Is it being back here… at Malfoy Manor?” Ron asked, genuinely worried about her.

“No… I'll admit it was difficult to sleep last night though. Draco was quite right, I did have some disturbing nightmares.”

Ron absently noticed that Luna was the only one of them who called Malfoy by his first name. He wondered if there was ever a kinder person than Luna Lovegood and he suddenly felt guilty for his foul mood. “Do you mind if I sit while you eat?”

“No” she said slowly, and she gestured for him to take a seat on her bed, joining him a moment later as she picked at the food he'd brought her.

“Not hungry either?” he asked, feeling even more concerned. “You know, maybe we should bring you to St. Mungo's. I know all wizarding centers are on high alert, but if you're really not feeling well…”

“I've always liked you Ronald” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Some might say you can be thick-headed and hot tempered, but you're also genuinely kind and good natured. And you are rather funny at times, and Daddy always said a man who can keep a good sense of humor in bad times is a good man.”

“I wasn't trying to make a joke, I really am worried” Ron protested confused.

“No, I know you are. And that's why you're such a good friend.” Her voice fell somewhat flat on the word “friend” and he felt like maybe he was missing out on something. “I am sorry about Hermione, I know you are still in love with her.”

This caught so far off guard that he nearly fell off the edge of her bed. “How do you know?”

“I heard you speaking with your sister. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, the sound just carries very well in these drafty hallways.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “I probably seem like a prat for being envious of my best friends' happiness.”

“The heart is a fragile thing. Unfortunately, it is also very stupid sometimes.”

Ron wondered if he should feel offended by her statement, but instead he just found himself laughing. “I must say Luna, I like that! The heart is stupid, it never knows what it wants until it's too late. At least, mine never does.”

“It will one day Ronald” Luna said, brightening up noticeably and taking a healthy swig of pumpkin juice. “And when it does, it might just surprise you.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Draco pulled his cloak more tightly around him as the cool night air ripped out from around him. Hours had passed since he'd sat in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor being tormented by the idiocy of the Gryffindor gang. Now it was nearly midnight and the almost full moon hung high in the sky as proof. Fenrir Greyback itched to howl at the sight of the silvery beauty but Draco effectively managed to shut the mangy beast up.

Knockturn Alley was gearing up for its usual illegal activity and there was noise from the pubs he passed and one witch tried to lure him into a dark alley with promises of great oral pleasure in exchange for a few galleons. He pulled his hood up closer around his face. Whether he was in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, there were plenty of people with reason to hate a Malfoy.

He nearly missed the impossible tight alleyway that turned off the main path and into the pitch-black shadows, leading him to an unmarked door with peeling black paint. When he opened the door there was only one man inside, his back turned to the entrance as he nursed a drink by the flickering light of a dirty lantern. The mute bartender was nowhere to be seen, but there was a glass of fire whiskey waiting for Draco already.

“Good, you made it and you followed my instructions to come alone.”

“I've always been good at following orders” Draco responded, taking his seat at the bar and sipping his drink to take the edge off of the cold night.

“We'll see about that. I'll believe you once you've delivered me Harry Potter.”

“Yes Master” Draco nodded, a thin smile passing his lips.

“You don't need to call me Master, none of my Children do. You may simply call me Damon.”

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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14. Double Edged Sword

CHAPTER 14: Double Edged Sword

“Now we were a virtue

In pride and murder sin

I have no need for redemption

I had no need for you”

-Dr. Dog

“Very well then Damon” Malfoy said, clearing his throat. “If I deliver Potter to you, you will let be a part of your plans?”

“Yes, but you need to prove to me I can trust you first. You remind me of a young man I met years ago, a man named Tom Riddle. But I suppose you already know about all that or you would not have contacted me to meet you here.”

“Potter and his friends have figured out much about your plan for world domination” Draco scowled, finishing the last of his drink in one long swig. “Potter had been sharing what he's found with me. He's foolish enough to think I'm his friend.”

“Foolish yes, but not an utter fool. He and his friends have been more clever than I would have given them credit for. I was pleased when he eliminated the monster who called himself Voldemort; it cleared a path for my own plans to commence. However, I never foresaw that a boy who thrived mostly on luck might also get in my way as well. I suppose I made the mistake of getting him involved when I targeted the famous Hermione Granger to unseal the Death Eater documents. I was simply trying to clear the world of any Death Eaters who Riddle may have shared his knowledge of Mental Channeling with. It would have eased the transition and avoided this unfortunate violence.”

“Threatening her was a bad play” Draco agreed. “You pissed Potter off and he's never been easy to deal with; the Dark Lord could testify to that.”

“No matter; the plans have changed but the objectives remain the same. I will not wait any longer; if blood must be shed so that a long era of peace may ensue, so be it. First, I must have assurances that you will not betray me like Riddle did.”

Draco took a moment to consider this statement, guardedly glancing at his strange accomplice. Harry had described the man as looking no older than 30 in Riddle's memories, and Draco would say that he had not aged a day since. He was handsome in a strikingly classic way, with a slender nose on his pale face, and perfect cheekbone structure. Draco understood more than ever Riddle's infatuation with staying young and living forever. It must have been a real blow to the ego when all that dark magic started destroying his face and turning him into a noseless freak. No wonder young Riddle and Voldemort were at odds in Potter's head.

“How can I give you assurances if I don't even know what Riddle did?” Draco asked finally, using his wand to levitate some more firewhiskey into his glass. “I only know what Potter knows and that's fairly little. I know that you told Riddle he could learn Mental Channeling if he raised an army to support your cause. I figure something went wrong though, because he never learned, that's why he was so hell bent on getting the Elder Wand. Around the time you made him your offer, he disappeared for years and returned as the twisted Lord Voldemort.”

“Your are right when you say something went wrong. Ever since I first met him I saw brilliance and ambition. But I also sensed evil. I didn't realize how deeply that evil had already infected his soul. He had already begun making his horocruxes when I met with him, but I thought his soul may still be salvageable if I taught him another way; a way of self control and mental strength. Unfortunately, he betrayed me the first chance he had. He turned on those I sent him to learn from. I tried to eradicate him but he slipped away from me, and for years I decided to wait patiently until he burned himself out. All flames that burn as brightly as Tom Riddle eventually burn out.”

“Well, I can tell you that I don't have that sort of ambition” Draco admitted. “I don't want to rule the world; I'm willing to leave that to you.”

“What do you want?”

“Redemption” Draco answered plainly. “I have spent most of my life as a coward. I watched Voldemort turn my family into his slaves and I did nothing. After the war I hid away amongst my books, ashamed of who I had become. I never want someone as cruel as Voldemort to have that sort of power over me again. From what I've heard, you have a vision for the future of the magic world- one of order. Finding a place in that order is all I seek.”

“And you will have it” Damon nodded, his strange gold and green eyes flickering in the dull lantern light. “First however, you must bring Potter to me. But as I said; he's more clever than I realized. This time, we must trick him. Tell me everything you know about him and I will devise a plan.”

**********************************

Ron had taken a shower, brushed his hair, and put on a clean set of clothing. It was the middle of the night but for the first time in over 24 hours he felt a little better about things. Ginny had bought him some clothes at a muggle store when she'd gone shopping with Hermione. Ron was loathe to admit it, but his sister had good fashion sense and keen sense for size. The dark denim jeans she had selected fit perfectly and the v-necked charcoal grey jumper looked sharp on him.

He felt he should be sleeping, but he was wide awake. They were standing on the edge of another battle and he could feel it in his bones. Unfortunately, he felt utterly useless. He had the sense that Harry and Hermione were hatching some sort of plan as they had holed themselves up in the library with Luna since midday. Draco seemed to have scampered off to bed hours ago.

Ron felt that he should go find out what the plan was and help with whatever research they were doing, but the fact of the matter was he still felt uncomfortable being around them. There was a sickness in the pit of his stomach when thinking about his two best friends being in love with each other. He wanted to punch Harry in the face.

The part of him that had grown up knew he was being utterly juvenile. Sure it was a little weird that his best mate was possibly shagging his ex-girlfriend, but Harry was more than just a best mate- he was like a brother. And Hermione was more than an ex. She was their best friend and had been since they were in their first year at Hogwarts. And if he was really honest with himself, he should have seen that there was always more than a platonic love between those two.

He remembered seeing them interacting when Harry was in the holding cell at the auror department. The way they moved so comfortably near each other, even in the face of great peril...

But why would they keep it from me? he wondered angrily. Ginny insisted that even Harry and Hermione had been blind to their feelings until very recently, but he wasn't so sure. He felt like a fool; a fool who had once believed Hermione Granger had actually been in love with HIM over Harry Potter. Or maybe they kept it from me because they knew I would react like this.

He shook his head hard. None of this was helping; there was a global threat out there and he was fussing about his wounded pride. He decided he had already wasted enough time; he needed to man up and face them. He strode through the chilly halls of Malfoy Manor with that single purpose in mind. When he reached the library he paused a moment, looking through the glass door at his friends sitting on the other side. Luna had her feet propped up on the desk in front of her, a massive book resting on her legs as she slowly turned the pages. Ginny looked about ready to pass out, her head being held up by her arm is such a manner that looked dangerously close to slipping. Harry and Hermione were sitting on a sofa, her head resting against his shoulder as they studied their respective books.

How many times have I seen them like this? he realized after the initial lurch of discomfort dissipated. The romantic turn in their relationship might have only come recently, but their physical ease with one another was something that had developed years ago, back at Hogwarts. How could I think that their love for each other was like that of a brother and sister? he pondered, feeling daft. He was flooded with memories of Hermione kissing Harry's forehead and messing up his hair after a Quidditch game and him holding her close when danger came, always reaching for her if she was close enough to touch. They've been reaching for each other since before they were teenagers. How could I not have seen it?

But he had seen it, he had known. When he abandoned them during the horocrux hunt he had known. Even when she had agreed to be his girlfriend he had known. For years he had bickered with her for no other reason than to gain her attention so she would be less fixated on Harry. All because he had KNOWN.

He sighed heavily and pushed the door open to enter the library. “Nice of you to decide to join us!” Ginny spat, her voice thick with fatigue.

“I'm sorry” he said sheepishly, not sure what else to say.

“Never mind. I can hardly keep my eyes open, so you can pick up where I left off” Ginny said, gesturing to the stack of books.

“I must admit, I'm a bit tired myself” Luna said. Ron couldn't tell if she did in fact sound tired, or if it was just the typical dreamy quality to her voice.

“Me too” Hermione yawned, shifting away from Harry. “I'm sorry Harry I just can't…”

“Get some sleep” he said giving her that smile he only reserved for her. “I still have a bit of fuel left in the tank so I'm going to keep going.”

She grinned at his use of the muggle expression, and unable to help herself she bent down swiftly and kissed his cheek. She then joined the other girls as they left the library. As they exited, Ginny could be overheard saying “I'm glad you two are walking with me. Malfoy Manor is as creepy as its owner.”

“So, what are we working on?” Ron asked, feeling a bit faint at the sheer number of books in front of him.

“We're trying to figure out if there's a way I can get Riddle out of my head for good. Right now he's just repressed but he can see what I see and hear my thoughts sometimes. And it's just plain wrong. No, actually, that's what Hermione and I were working on. Ginny and Luna were looking for a way that I talk directly to Riddle, like I did after the Odyssea potion, but without him taking control.”

“From what I hear, he won't be able to take control again. Not now that you've accepted certain hidden feelings he was hiding behind.”

“About that Ron-”

“I've been acting like a prat and I don't need you to give me another one of those lectures you gave me back at Grimmauld Place again. I know I need to grow up and focus on what matters, and I am, that's why I'm here.”

“I wasn't going to lecture you. I was going to say sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you last night, but it was all still new and confusing. In fact, it still is. I'm afraid don't know how to be a boyfriend, I'm afraid I'll ruin everything and lose the most important person in the world to me. I did a lousy job with Ginny and every girl I've been with since has been casual. I'm a danger to anyone I'm with and I am `emotionally stunted' as Ginny once put it during one of our more heated rows, and… and it's all beside the point. I told you at Grimmauld Place that even if Hermione and I were shagging it would be none of your business, but that's not true. You're our best friend, and she is someone you shared a history with. I know you care about her deeply-”

“I thought I was still in love with her up until this moment” Ron said with a peculiar laugh. “I do love her- don't get me wrong. How could I not she's- well, she's Hermione. But when you described your fears- I can see the truth in your eyes. She is the most important person in the world to you and you're willing to face all those fears just to get to be with her. I wasn't able to face my fears, my insecurities, and I don't think I ever would have been. I'm not in love with her, at least, not the way you are.”

“I honestly have no idea what it means to be in love” Harry shrugged. “All I know is that I am sorry I didn't consider your feelings. What I am not sorry for though, are my feelings… I'm bad with words. But yes, I love her in a way that- shouldn't even be possible. Doesn't even feel safe. And I think she feels the same way back and Ron- what if it kills her?”

Harry had been stoic as a child and had become even more unreadable as a man, but right then waves of fear and self-doubt were pouring from his eyes. “It won't kill her” Ron said, his voice sure and confident. “You'd never let it happen. I know you wouldn't. And if you did, I'd kill you.”

Ron grinned mischievously and Harry punched him in the upper arm. “Enough of the girl talk then eh? Let's get back to studying.”

“Just like old times huh mate?”

“What are you talking about Ron? We never used to study.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The sun was rising when Draco returned to his home sweet home. He had decided to apparate to the outer grounds to allow himself a nice walk in the crisp morning air. He needed a moment to prepare himself for everything that was about to happen. He felt like he was looking at all the pieces on a chessboard and trying to decide the best move. Better to be looking down at the pieces than to be a pawn he reminded himself.

The sun was rising with a splendid mixture of colors, bleeding orange, pink and yellow into the grey sky. Malfoy Manor was a silhouette against it all, looking dark and sinister. He loved his home. True, it was cold and filled with ghosts and bad memories but it was his. In some ways it felt like the Manor was his last remaining relative.

When he entered the manor he headed straight for the library to write a few things down while they were fresh in his memory. Upon entering his family's prestigious (and largely populated with dark magic books) library, he found Ron Weasley drooling on top of a book and Harry Potter curled up on the sofa.

“Ah-hem” he cleared his throat loudly and both boys awoke with a start, Ron falling from his chair and face planting on the floor.

“Ugh, this might be a nightmare” Ron grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he looked at Draco. “In no proper universe should I be waking up to Draco Malfoy.”

“Yes, but a boy can dream” Draco responded with a false smile. “Anyways Weasley, if I were you I'd be more worried about what I did to you while you were sleeping.”

Ron went sheet white and began rubbing his hands all over his body as though checking to see if anything was missing. When he realized that Draco was toying with him his mood turned very sour. “You're a prat Malfoy. You got to sleep all night, why wake us up so rudy early?”

“You are an utter moron” Draco scowled. “I wasn't sleeping, I just got back.”

“Where were you then?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Shagging your mum Weasley. No, I'm kidding, your mum is much too gross for me to shag.”

Ron launched forward towards Draco but by then Harry had awoken and grabbed Ron by the color, easily dragging him back with a strength that surprised both Draco and Ron. “Malfoy, cut the shit. How did it go?”

“It didn't. He wasn't there.”

“Who wasn't there?” Ron asked, baffled.

“Damon” Draco and Harry said simultaneously.

“What the bloody hell were you doing looking for him on your own?”

“It was Potter's own dimwitted idea. I was trying to trick him into thinking that I was willing to sell Potter out in exchange for learning about Mental Channeling. He must have sensed it was a farce though, because he didn't show.”

“Trick him into thinking you were selling out Harry? Well, I already believe it.”

“As stated previously Weasley, that's because you're a moron.”

Ron tried to leap forward again and Harry pushed him back firmly into his seat. Harry was looking into Draco's eyes like there was something he didn't quite believe, but then the doubt faded from his green gaze and he sighed. “I guess that's that then. We're going to have to double our efforts with getting me to communicate with Riddle in a controlled manner.”

“How goes the research?” Draco asked, sounding bored.

“We've found nothing of use” Harry shrugged. “I think I should try the odyssea again.”

“Hmm, well given that last time we tried that I broke your ribs and you went all evil, I say that's a great plan.”

“Ron had a good point” Harry argued.

“I did?” Ron interrupted, surprised.

“Yes” Harry continued. “Last night you said that since I uh… recognized certain feelings, Riddle can no longer use them to control my consciousness. Last time I took odyssea it split my consciousness right?”

“That's the theory” Draco shrugged.

“Well, this time I suspect that'll happen again but he won't be able to take control. I'll be able to control him instead. Maybe I'll be able to make him answer some of the questions we have about Damon, and afterwards, maybe I'll be able to banish him entirely.”

“That's a lot of maybes” Draco scowled.

“We're always going off of a lot of maybes” Harry responded casually. “We defeated Voldemort off of a bunch of hunches and we'll hopefully defeat Damon the same way.”

“Fine I'll brew more” Draco sighed, feeling very weary. “Let me get some sleep though. The Children of Damon have been silent since the attack in France, we still have time to figure something out.”

“It's actually the silence that concerns me the most” Harry frowned. “What is he waiting for? Shouldn't he be declaring his power and threatening world-wide political bodies into handing over their nations to him?”

“It's like chess” Ron said, seeming unusually pensive. “He's waiting to see what your move is before he makes his.”

Draco left the room thinking that although Weasley was a moron, he was very spot on this time.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“What time is it?” Hermione yawned, waking up as Harry sat on the bed, despite his attempt to be very quiet.

“Early. You've only been asleep for a few hours.” She pulled him down towards her so that his head was resting on her shoulder like a pillow. She absently ran her fingers through his raven hair and he felt the stress in his body evaporate.

“Did you stay up all night?”

“No, I fell asleep an hour or so after you left. I've got an awful crick in my neck from napping on that hard sofa. The furniture in Malfoy Manor is as hard and unforgiving as its owners.” Her fingers moved to his neck, gently massaging the knot he had formed there and he closed his eyes. “We're going to try odyssea again after Malfoy gets some rest.”

“Harry-” she began, her tone warning.

“It's going to be fine. You'll be there. I'll be fine.” Although his voice was drowsy there was a certitude there she couldn't help but believe. It was astonishing to her that he trusted her so fully and deeply. At times it also scared him. What if I fail him?

She realized that he had fallen asleep and she gently kissed the top of his head, using this moment to really look at him. When asleep he looked so vulnerable it made her remember why she had always stuck with him; the inexplicable need to protect him. To her, he seemed like a personification of all that was good in the world, and she would do anything to protect him because a world without him seemed cold and miserable. Even when the process of protecting him included things like wiping her parents' memory or being tortured, it was a price she was more than happy to pay.

While she wasn't glad that the recent series of events with Damon and his followers had occurred, she was glad that it had brought them back together again. For the past few years he had been chasing evil on his own and all she could do was occasionally mend his wounds. She had been watching him change ever since that damned prophecy, and it only seemed to get worse the further they grew apart. He was often depressed and seemed tormented but incapable of verbalizing his emotions. She wondered if she could ease some of that, now that they were a team once more.

More than a team this time… she realized, still in awe at everything that had changed between them so quickly. I could kiss him anytime I want she mused, her mind loopy from fatigue. All those years of pondering it and now I know how it feels. And more than kiss him I could… she cut her mind off at this, not quite ready for it to wander down that avenue. She had told O'Rourke she'd never wondered about what sex would be like with Harry, but she had.

Of course I have she thought as she drifted back to sleep. Many, many times.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ginny had awoken to find Malfoy Manor even more eerily quiet than usual. How did Draco Malfoy grow up in a such an unwelcoming place? she wondered. It was a beautiful estate to be certain; in fact, it was the most lavish home she had ever seen. The smooth carved marble, the massive stained glass windows and the endless gardens all suggested an elegance that was in sharp contrast with her beloved (and recently burned down) home, The Burrow. Yet the two homes were also equally opposite in their atmospheres. While The Burrow was warm, cozy and welcoming, Malfoy Manor seemed to have a permanent chill in the air. The decor of the Burrow was mainly comprised of broken-in, overstuffed furniture draped with hand knit blankets and there were always fresh vases of flowers from Mrs. Weasley's garden. Malfoy Manor on the other hand, was decorated with an endless amount of silver snakes; they were on the sconces, around the fireplaces, twisting through the chandeliers and even lined most of the bathroom mirrors. It was rather sinister.

And all that was to say nothing of the portraits, which had been covered with thick velvet drapings but still muttered from behind their shadowy prisons.

Yes, Malfoy Manor was a morbid place but Ginny Weasley had long ago learned that feeling fear was a luxury. After her debacle with Tom Riddle's diary she had been plagued with nightmares for years, and indeed she would sob when the dementors were nearby as she recalled Riddle's cold black eyes and the sound of the basilisk slithering along the damp tunnels. But after Dumbledore died and Harry, Ron and Hermione all left her alone at Hogwarts with the sadistic Carrows she learned that feeling scared benefited nobody. She had swallowed her fears and doubts and helped Neville Longbottom as he became a surprisingly solid leader for Dumbledore's Army.

And so, as she walked the hallways of Malfoy Manor, she ignored that little chill that went up her back. But for the first time she really understood why Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna had never discussed their time captured inside its walls. It was a place of horrors.

She saw a faint light coming from the hallway ahead and she followed it, discovering a portrait that was swung open on hinges, a light emanating from behind it. She peered down to find a set of stairs headed down into the basement. The dungeon she presumed.

Having nothing better to do, she steeled her nerves and proceeded down a spiraling set of stone steps that seemed to decline to impossibly low depths. Could it actually be getting colder? she wondered as she finally descended to flat ground to find Draco Malfoy gaping at her.

She had never seen Draco Malfoy gape. Not that she knew him particularly well. Their interactions had been limited to passing in the hallway and some Quidditch related stuff. Mostly, her opinion of Draco was based on Ron, Harry and Hermione's insistence that he was a Death Eater, a cheat and a “total prat”. Of course, he had also conspired to murder Dumbledore.

Yet, from her perspective he was just a snobby pure blood who had been raised by parents with poor taste in both furniture and personality. He was cold and used his wit to disguise his emotions, and he hid his pain behind good looks and expensive clothing. It was transparent to her, but she did not feel bad for him. That was another thing she had learned from her experiences; pity was a wasted emotion.

“Bloody hell Weasley, ever heard of knocking?”

“Knock on what exactly?” she responded, mimicking an expression of thoughtfulness. “That portrait up there was wide open.”

Draco frowned. “I closed it behind me, but it must have opened back up on its own.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“Well, they aren't exactly happy with me since I covered them up. I suppose it was an act of defiance. If decor can be defiant.”

“If decor can be defiant than the furniture in this house should have committed suicide by now.”

“Funny Weasley” Draco said, rolling his eyes as he returned his attention to the steaming cauldron before him. His expression suggested sarcasm, but the slight smile on his lips suggested otherwise.

“What are you doing down here?”

“Making a deadly poison for Potter and the rest of you.”

“Hmm, I'd believe you if you weren't such a liar.”

He stared at her for a moment and she noticed that there was something oddly pretty about his silver-grey eyes. “I am making the odyssa potion for Potter. He thinks it wise to try it again.”

“And what's the purpose of that?”

“Information. We are just a bunch of blind fools trying to fight an enemy with powers far greater than our own. We need to find out more about him.”

“So I take it Harry's plan for you to trick Damon didn't work?”

“Yes, he didn't show. Not surprisingly. He didn't survive this long because he's a fool.”

“What would he have had to fear from you?” Ginny snorted. “From what I understand, his powers most likely pale all of ours by comparison.”

Draco just scowled at her, returning to his work.

“I'm guessing Hermione won't like the idea of us pumping Harry with drugs again.”

“Granger likes little to nothing in life from what I can tell.”

“She likes Harry.”

“Yes, that's blatantly obvious” Draco snarled, rolling his eyes. “Tell me Weasley, how do you feel about the fact that Potter is finally admitting that he always preferred brunettes to redheads?”

His words were aimed to cut but they fell ineffectually open her. “I can accept it. Can you accept that nobody seems to prefer YOU Malfoy? I mean, when is the last time you even got laid?”

“Are you offering Weasley? Because I rarely lower my standards this much, but I could use to blow off some steam.”

“In your dreams” she smirked. “You didn't answer my question. Seeing as you slunk off and hid after the war and nobody had even seen you until you were arrested, I am willing to guess your last fling was at Hogwarts. So that means you've gone five years without…”

“You are just so bloody clever Weasley” Draco snapped, suddenly angry. “I'm trying to be productive and you're just wasting my time with your teenaged drabble about who gets `lucky' more often. In case you haven't noticed, I don't get lucky at anything, ever. The wizarding world hates me, my soul is doomed to hell if such a place exists, my parents were murdered meters away from where I hid like a coward, and now I'm forced to deal with my childhood rival and all of his pals. So if your purpose is to make me hate my life more than I already do, save your breath. It gets no worse than the hell that is living with my conscience.”

She felt shocked. Not only by how furious he had become, but by how honest he was being with her. “I didn't mean to… I was just joking. I'm sorry.”

He tilted his head to the side as though he had never heard this strange word, “sorry” before. “Just get a better sense of humor” he said dryly. He turned his back to her and heard her walk away as he slipped one final ingredient into Potter's odyssea potion.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry felt like he had been trapped in a very awkward intervention. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna were all sitting around him in the parlor of Malfoy Manor, staring at him intensely as though he might spontaneously combust at any moment.

“Alright Potter, here's the odyssea” Draco announced, walking into the room with the vile tasting potion in a corked flask.

“I think I'll uh…. take this somewhere private” he announced, taking the potion from Malfoy and standing up quickly from the couch.

“Oh no” Hermione said in the stern voice. “You need to be monitored. This `potion' is very dangerous- it's really just a drug and…”

“And you really do like to mother don't you?” Draco interrupted. “I'll babysit Potter if you want.”

“I'd feel more comfortable doing it myself thanks” she responded snidely.

“I'd feel more comfortable if nobody was around” Harry chimed in. “Things got pretty weird last time, I might be dangerous…”

“Or you might just get embarrassingly giddy again” Draco noted.

“You're the one who gave me a haircut” Harry retorted.

“What?!” Ron and Ginny exclaimed at the same point.

“That's besides the point” Draco snapped. “I'm not taking the potion this time, it didn't have any useful effect on me. All it did was make Fenrir Greyback start howling in my brain. He's been as useless in death as he was in life.”

“I have a theory about that” Hermione began in her best know-it-all tone. “I think that because Voldemort purposely fused his soul to Harry in the final battle, the connection is much stronger than the connection you have with Greyback, whose memories you stole.”

“Perhaps” Draco shrugged. “I'm just glad Greyback doesn't just appear to me the way Riddle appeared to Potter. The last thing I need is to listen to his whining about fleas and whatever else werewolves whine about.”

They all frowned at Draco, thinking about the heroic Remus Lupin who had given his life in the final battle. Still, nothing more was said as Harry walked out of the room, potion in hand. He made it a few meters down the corridor before Hermione caught up with him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to look her in the eye.

“Harry, don't do this alone” she said, half commanding and half begging. “It's not safe, I'm still not sure you should even be doing this.”

“It's the only possible lead we have” Harry said, sighing as he tried to turn away from her but she blocked him. Ignoring her had always been next to impossible for him.

“Let me be there for you then” she said, emotion glistening in her cinnamon brown eyes. Without warning he kissed her. It was a rough kiss, filled with raw energy and emotion and she yielded to it immediately as he deepened the kiss, backing her up until she was pressed against the wall.

When they parted she was breathless and wondered if he could hear her heart beating. “If I tell you to leave, then you need to leave” he said, looking her square in the eye to make sure she understood. She nodded and they headed to the room where he had been locked up by Draco previously. She keyed the wards so that she would be able to leave if things got out of hand, but he would stay trapped. She prayed it wouldn't come to that again. For some reason, her nightmare about kissing Riddle popped into her memory again.

“Bottoms up” Harry joked, pouring the gross fluid down his throat. She watched apprehensively after he had swallowed, but there was no immediate change. “I really fucked this room up” he noted, looking at the splintered furniture.

“We can fix that” she noted, taking her wand from her pocket and setting the broken items right once more.

“Always cleaning up my messed” he noted after she was done. There was smile on his face and a note of nostalgia in his voice. She wondered if the potion was starting to work. “You know, at Hogwarts I always found you attractive. I mean, once I was old enough to notice that sort of thing.”

Yes, it's definitely starting to work she realized, somewhat amused.

“I never told anyone, I mean, I knew Ron had a crush on you and also I was pretty sure if you ever found out about it you'd hex me.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, confused.

“Why would I think you're attractive? Well, you've got a beautiful face and I've always loved you eyes, and there's also the fact that you're quite fit and then there's those features that those school uniforms really accentuated…”

“I meant, why would you think I'd hex you for finding me attractive?” she laughed, stopping him before his description became too graphic.

“Well, I'd made your life miserable enough. Between the nightmarish misadventures of the Sorcerer's Stone and saving Sirius and then there was the whole Triwizard Tournament and that nonsense with Rita Skeeter. I mean really, that she called you plain…”

“She also labeled you as an orphan who cries himself to sleep every night!” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, anyways, I was fairly sure you'd hate me for complicating matters between us even more than they were already complicated. Also, I never thought you would like me in that way. I'm still not sure why you do. I mean… you're perfect!” He gave her a smile so dazzling in its pure joy that it brought tears to her eyes. She had not seen him smile that way in many years; not since before Sirius had died and he had become The Boy Who Carried the World on his Shoulders.

He looked past her for a moment and his smile vanished, his eyes becoming cloudy. “Hello Tom” he said. She followed his gaze but of course she saw nothing. “Could you leave us for a moment?” Harry asked politely, and for a moment she thought he was talking to the projection of Riddle still, but he had turned his attention back to her.

She felt uncomfortable leaving him with the hallucination of his parents' murderer, but she had promised him she would leave if asked so she nodded, heading towards the door and only stopping long enough to run her fingers through his hair as a reassuring gesture.

“Aren't you the picture of domestic tranquility?” Riddle remarked snidely as soon as she was gone. He sat in one of the restored armchairs, crossing his legs in a casual manner. “Have you fucked her yet? No, I already know the answer. After all, I can see everything you see and hear everything you think. You certainly want to fuck her but you're afraid she'll reject you still. You're afraid she'll change her mind. I wouldn't blame her.”

Harry felt a tremor of anger pass through him but he controlled it as Malfoy had taught him to. Malfoy's meditative teachings felt like they had been another lifetime ago now but they were sticking with Harry. Most of the time. Well, some of the time anyways he admitted to himself, once more touching the scar below his eye from his nearly catastrophic blowout with Malfoy. “The fact that you can witness my life essentially makes me want to blow my brains out.”

“Oh please do” Riddle said dryly. “It's not pleasant for me either. I'm a prisoner in the mind of my enemy. I can no longer even control you; I am a ghost without a voice or body.”

“If that's so, why don't you just leave?”

“As though I know how to” he scowled. “This is different from the horocruxes; Soul Binding is a very powerful way of preserving a part of your consciousness, but it doesn't allow you to regenerate yourself. My best hope would have been to drive you mad and take control of your body, but that seems to be unlikely now. I see everything you do, hear all that you hear, but cannot affect my surroundings. I am likely the one who will go mad now. That is why I am going to offer you a negotiation.”

“Let's hear it then” Harry said, finding it surreal that he was negotiating with Voldemort.

“I studied Soul Binding extensively before our final battle. My elder form… Voldemort…. he didn't think he could lose against you, but there was a shadow of doubt. He couldn't split his soul again and you were destroying all my precious horocruxes, so he… I… looked into another option. I was aware that once I attached to the nearest living soul, I would be trapped there forever. It was my hope to possess and take over their body, although there was no previous record of that successfully happen. Still, I've accomplished many firsts.”

“Yeah, sure” Harry said with yawn.

Riddle frowned, his eyes turning even darker than usual. “Anyhow, my studies have revealed that there is no way for you to destroy me.”

“Yes there is” Harry argued, frantic at the thought that Riddle would remain in his consciousness forever. “Malfoy took a piece of Greyback's soul when he took his teeth… I could remove you in the same way.”

“By ripping a piece of yourself out?” Riddle mocked. “We really are very similar afterall.”

Harry thought of the words he had heard Damon to Riddle speak long ago, these horocruxes are taking a toll on that youthful beauty. Dark magic is said to do that you know.

“Yes, it rather destroyed me” Riddle frowned, hearing Harry's thought. It made Harry shudder, and once more he realized with disgust how integrally close Riddle was to him. “You won't rip a piece of yourself out to get rid of me; especially since we both know which part of you you'd have to destroy.”

The part of me that loves Hermione Harry realized, a sense of despair sweeping over him.

“As I said before, I'll offer you a negotiation. You can't get rid of me but there is a spell that would funnel me into another object. Once there I will not be tormented by having to watch every moment of your life. I'll be able to rest. It will be like a silent prison.”

“I don't trust your motives” Harry said immediately. He wanted Riddle out of his head more than anything, but at least when he was trapped there he wasn't capable of wreaking havoc on the outside world.

“You think I'll try to escape?” Riddle asked. “How would I do that? I'm not even real; I have no body, no magic, no power. I am giving you a way out from our predicament, and in return I will tell you everything I know about Mental Channeling.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry had finished explaining Tom Riddle's proposition to his friends (if Draco could be counted as “friend”) and they all just stood in the parlor looking uncomfortable for a long while. It was equally uncomfortable for Harry, who could still see Tom Riddle's youthful form as he stood listening and brooding in the shadows.

“He wants you to transfer his soul into another item?” Hermione asked after a long pause, looking as pensive as ever. “It will become like a horocrux.”

“No, not quite” Harry noted. “The horocruxes were a different type of magic from soul binding. The horocruxes gave off a negative energy but they weren't consciously aware. Riddle would be aware still, but incapable of giving off any energy. It would be like putting him a silent prison.”

“He is ASKING to be put in a silent prison?” Draco scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he gave his best look of doubtful indignation. “There is certainly more to his game than that. Although, a silent prison might be preferable to whatever dull and saintly thoughts you dream of Potter.”

“You have no idea what I dream about” Harry said, and there was a darkness in his tone that made Hermione shudder and not for the first time she contemplated how he was always balancing on a knife's edge; just a single decision away from going from hero to villain.

“It's true that he undoubtedly has ulterior motives” Luna said, her soft and dreamy voice surprising them all, as though they'd forgotten she was in the room. “Do we really have a choice though? This is our only lead, and we may be able to take precautions to keep him from acting on those motives.”

“I agree” Ginny said. “We can't keep sitting around here waiting for the Children of Damon to kill everyone. I mean, how did this fall on us anyways? Aren't there… military minds who are designated to deal with these sorts of crises?”

“Apparently not” Ron responded dryly. “If there had been, Harry and Hermione and I might have had an actual childhood.”

“Oh boo hoo Weasley” Draco scoffed, and Ron rose to his feet, fists balled, but Luna and Ginny immediately pulled him back down onto the sofa where the three of them were sitting.

“How can we save everyone if we can't even get along with each other?” Ginny hissed, glaring first at Ron and then at Draco. He returned her scathing look with an unreadable one, which made her fury disappear and instead she felt oddly calmed by his steady grey gaze.

“It sounds like we're all agreed” Hermione interrupted, looking at Harry with anticipation and fear in her eyes. “We will do what he asks, but only if he gives us the information we need.”

“She is a bossy one” Riddle snickered from his dark corner, his voice like a whisper in Harry's ear. “You best watch out or she'll have your balls…”

“Shut up” Harry muttered, shooting a glance towards his invisible enemy.

“Can you still see him Harry? Is he here?” Luna asked, her voice oddly chilling this time as the cold nighttime of Malfoy Manor crept in around them all.

“He's always here. And he's also nowhere. But really it doesn't matter. He's nothing, he's no one.” Harry turned to say these words to Riddle and as he looked into those strange black eyes and wondered if he wasn't making a mistake, and if he would ever truly be apart from the menace who had haunted him all his life.

“That may be so. But I have one final story to tell you Potter.” Riddle rushed forward and Harry flinched as Riddle launched into him. Although Riddle was nothing more than a hallucination, Harry couldn't help but duck as the tall boy heaved himself in full tackle and everyone else in the room stared in confusion as Harry Potter went stark white and fell to the floor, unmoving.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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15. Chapter 15: From Whence We Came

CHAPTER 15: From Whence We Came

Hermione's heart stopped as she saw Harry fall. How many times had she put her body under this sort of shock and distress? All those times she had seen him fall and bleed and even that time she thought she'd seen him die. Still, it never got any easier, and that pain, that ripping, God-awful pain in her chest always felt the same. It felt like dying.

She was the first to his side, as she always was. When she touched him he was icy cold and she pulled her hand back in shock. Please be breathing she thought over and over again. She slowly reached to find his pulse, afraid of the stillness she might discover, but to her surprise (and relief) his heart was beating very steadily. “Inervate” she said, but nothing happened.

“What happened?” Ron asked, looking very pale himself.

“I'm not sure” Hermione said, running her fingers through Harry's hair as though he could feel the soothing gesture. “We need to get him to St. Mungos…”

“It's not safe” Draco argued. “Right now there's a good chance he has a big bulls eye on his head. In fact, I'm sure we all do. Anywhere we go we are risking the lives of those around us.”

“How noble of you Malfoy” Ron spat. “All of the sudden you care about innocent lives, but naturally you don't give a fuck about Harry's life…”

“Stop Ron, Malfoy's right” Hermione cut in, a bitter taste entering her mouth upon uttering those words. “Harry does need medical attention though, he could be… he could be dying for all we know.”

“I could contact Dad and have him send a mediwitch” Ginny offered.

“Madame Pomfrey” Ron and Hermione said simultaneously. “Nobody knows more about Harry's weird conditions than Pomfrey” Hermione asserted. “There will be less prying eyes at Hogwarts, we can sneak him in and nobody will even know he's there.”

“Yes, because students aren't likely to blab that an unconscious Harry Potter arrived at the school” Draco argued with his famous eye roll.

“The students won't see us” Hermione replied shortly. “We'll use the Marauders Map to make sure the halls are empty.”

“The Marauder's Map?” Draco asked, confused.

Ron grinned wickedly. “Ah Malfoy, you thought that Slytherins were the only sneaky ones. We could fill a book with the things you don't know about.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''

One moment Harry was standing in the parlor of Malfoy Manor and the next he was sitting at the peculiar dark bar in Knockturn Alley. There was a taste of bitter red wine in his mouth and he instantly knew he wasn't in his own body. He was in Riddle's, and they were in a memory.

A familiar voice was speaking and Riddle's head turned, allowing Harry to glimpse Damon with his dark auburn locks and icy pale complexion. “I will not be instructing you to channel magic personally. I sense a great destiny for you Tom, but I have to be certain you are capable. I am sending you to the place where it all started for me. Finish up matters here and within the next few days you will be receiving instructions to a place simply known as The Cradle. It is there that you will learn Mental Channeling.”

Harry felt a flicker of excitement in Riddle's thoughts and then had the peculiar sensation of feeling his own mouth move and words emerge involuntarily. “I have heard of The Cradle. They say it is the place where magic was born.”

“It is that and much more” Damon said in a tone of disinterest.

Harry experienced that strange swooshing sensation once more and they were no longer in the bar but he was alone on a dusty road. It was freezing out and his warming charms were fading so he involuntarily renewed them and felt a great sense of relief in his limbs. Surrounding him was a vast expanse of nothingness, just flat fields of dead grass that were tinted white with a sheen of frost. It was early morning but overcast grey skies hid the rising sun from view. There was a vague nagging sense of hunger in the pit of his stomach, and the dirt of his shoes suggested that he'd been walking for a long time.

Well, Riddle's been walking for a long time he corrected himself, shuddering internally at the lines that had been crossed between his existence and Riddle's. He turned his head and glanced across the long flat field, seemingly gazing into the nothingness of the grey horizon. And then he saw a faint shimmering. Heading towards it the frozen grass crunched beneath his feet and it was a good twenty minutes before he drew close enough to feel the warmth of the shimmering, transparent object. On the other side of it was just more empty field, but when he stepped through it he was in a different place entirely.

Here it was warm; almost humid and the surroundings had changed drastically, from a frozen wasteland to a tropical paradise. Lush green plant flourished and the singing of birds filled the air. There was a pleasantly sweet aroma and brilliantly colored flowers greeted him at every turn as he walked down a weaving path. The path widened and suddenly he was standing in a bustling village that was populated by men, women and children of every size, shape and color. They smiled fondly at him, as though he'd been expected and Harry noted a distinct feeling of discomfort in Riddle's mind. He's suspicious of kindness.

Unsure of where else to go Riddle continued to walk in a straight path, keeping his cold gaze fixed on the dirt road in front of him and ignoring the hand-made huts that lined the way. How could I possibly learn anything from such primitives? Harry heard Riddle wonder. A moment away from turning around and leaving, a beautiful tanned skinned young woman approached, a calm smile on her face. “You are Tom Riddle yes?” she asked in perfect English, her tone sultry and smooth.

“Yes, what is this place?”

“The Cradle” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I expected…”

“You expected something less rustic” she laughed. Harry felt Riddle's body tense up, his inner fury winding around like a snake ready to strike. “Please forgive me, I am not laughing at you. Everyone who comes here says the same thing. To those of us who were born here though, it is paradise on Earth. This is where magic was born and it's where it thrives in its most natural form.”

“You can perform magic without a wand?” Riddle asked, his tone skeptical.

“It's the only way I know how. Most wizards and witches who are fortunate enough to find this place never really took the time to wonder where magic comes from. It is part of life though, and has been since the start of time. For some reason, it has gotten weaker over the ages. There are fewer and fewer magical beings born each year, and those who do have power require the assistance of a wand. Except for us. We are trained to tap into that natural power that is within any wizard or witch.”

Muggles have tainted the bloodline, that's why our power has diminished Riddle thought and Harry felt a swelling of fury at this but there was nothing he could do about it. He was just a helpless passenger experiencing a memory from long ago.

“How did you know I was coming?” Riddle asked as he followed her through the center of the village, watching as the inhabitants traded and bartered for all sorts of goods. Harry felt confused. He had assumed that Damon had told the villagers Riddle would be coming to be trained.

“Many of us have powers of premonition. They are stronger in some than others. I have a particularly strong gift.”

“So you can see my future?”

“No. I do not know what you seek here either. I assume you seek to join us and learn a better form of magic and find a more peaceful existence. If you accept our training, you know you can never leave.”

“Yes, I understand that. I do seek peace.” Harry felt Riddle's face contort into a charming grin and saw the beautiful young woman smile appreciatively, falling for his poison. “All my life I've been plagued by worries. Staying here forever and learning your ways is what I most desire. But I'm being rude, what is your name?”

“Anna” she replied, and she took his hand in hers and led him into a large wooden building at the village's center.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“His vitals are stable, but it's as though his consciousness has wandered to some unknown place” Madame Pomfrey announced, a puzzled frown on her face. She had been more than slightly surprised to find Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy waiting in her office with an incapacitated Harry Potter, but she had asked few questions and gotten to work on a diagnosis immediately. She had hidden the Boy Who Lived behind a series of curtains and used a Notice-Me-Not spell to keep any prying students away. In the meantime, she had left the rest of Potter's posse sitting in her private quarters, refusing any of their demands to be with their friend.

“Riddle did something to Harry, something bad” Ron growled, pacing around her small tidy kitchen space with his lengthy legs.

“At least he's okay for now” Hermione noted, chewing her lip nervously. “We'll have to figure out a way to wake him.”

“Riddle?” Madame Pomfrey asked, alarmed. “As in Tom Riddle?”

“It's complicated” Ginny quickly said, ushering the school nurse aside to explain. Hermione gave the youngest Weasley a kind smile; she was feeling far too weary to deal with it. Noticing her exhausted look Ron came over and gave her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance.

“You look like you need rest, I'll talk to McGonagall about finding us some accommodations where the students won't see us.”

“While you're at it, see if she can clear out the library. We have far too much…”

“Too much research to do before we can even think about sleeping” Ron said. “I know, I know. I'll talk to her. I'm starting to envy Harry, at least he's getting some sleep…”

Hermione scoffed but decided not to get into it with him. It was the Weasley way to crack a joke when things got stressful. Luna left with Ron and Hermione decided that since Madame Pomfrey was otherwise occupied there would be no harm in visiting Harry. Out in the medical ward all was quiet except for one little first year who was fast asleep in his bed. She peered at him from a distance, thinking of Harry and wondering if he'd really been that small when he'd foiled Voldemort's attempt at the Sorcerer's Stone.

She pushed back the curtains to the area where Harry's cot was hidden and felt that same kick in the gut sensation she had always gotten when she saw him in here. “Looks like you're back in the medical ward again Mr. Potter” she sighed as she sat down beside him. He can't hear you she reminded herself. But then again, maybe he can…. what do I know about wandering consciousnesses? Not nearly enough. I need to be in the library. Now.

She stroked his raven black hair back from his forehead, noting that lightening bolt scar that had become a symbol of all his troubles. It's not fair she thought, recalling all of his struggles and pain. But she quickly pushed that thought away. Long ago she had learned to stop bothering herself over matters of “fairness”. They would keep being who they were and doing what they did and the universe would sometimes go to complete chaos but that was how it all worked.

It's worth it… for the good moments.

As soon as they had arrived at Hogwarts she had been filled with memories. Of course, there were the bad memories like being petrified and the final battle. But there were far more good memories… walking along the lake with her boys on either side of her, studying late at night in the library (yes, that was a good memory for her), feasting in the Great Hall while the twins made inappropriate jokes, her first dance, her first kiss, her first real friends. Then there was the magic itself and all that entailed; the riveting classes, and the raucous quidditch matches, the multitude of incredible creatures, the moving staircases, the floating candles…

Yes, the good outweighs the bad. And that's why we fight. And that's why he does this to himself time and time again; because the good will always outweigh the bad.

Of course, none of this stopped her from longing for the opportunity to have a normal moment with him, to just go on a date to some muggle restaurant in London and maybe see a movie. They had gone on dozens of dates, especially during the long stretches of time when they were both single. If he wasn't off working and was in the right mood he would often insist she step away from her work so they could “go check out that new action flick” or order Chinese food and play a board game. It had all just been normal activity between two friends, or so she'd thought at the time.

And suddenly, she was bombarded by memories of small moments in which she should have known there was something more between them… him brushing a piece of hair away from her face, her resting her head on his lap after a long day of work, him cooking her a surprise birthday dinner, her taking him to the beach... How could I not have known?

She sighed and climbed into the bed with him, resting her head on his shoulder and wondering what was going on in that head of his at this very moment. It didn't matter how long it took her to figure it out how she felt about him; she knew now. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

“I love you.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The words “I love you” seemed to whisper amongst the tropical air, but Harry knew that couldn't be right. For the past hour or so he had been watching clips of Riddle's training through the eyes of his most hated enemy. It was a dizzying experiencing to absorb so much information so quickly, but he felt he was understanding how it worked.

“Magic is natural to magical beings such as ourselves” Anna had explained one afternoon when the sky was a crisp blue and seagulls drifted lazily above. “We can cast spells and enchantments by using our own consciousness; our own emotions. The more you can tap into your feelings and then funnel those emotions into your power, the stronger your magic will be.”

And so they practiced, and practiced and practiced some more. Many of the strategies were similar to what Draco had taught Harry; meditative sessions focused on acknowledging one's innermost feelings. But instead of pushing away those feelings and repressing them, Riddle was being taught to turn them into raw power. Harry felt that he understood the process quite quickly; but Riddle struggled.

Riddle's emotions were of dark and rooted in hatred and anger. Thus his magic was erratic at best and difficult to control. It was for this reason that the beautiful Anna became suspicious of young Riddle. Riddle could sense her growing distrust and it was on one of the most beautiful of all the days Harry had seen that Riddle cornered her in the forest.

The green forest was spotted with vibrant purple and red flowers and the sky had not a cloud in sight. The warm sun heated the damp soil from a rain shower the night before, giving everything an earthy scent. It was a perfect scene of serenity, but Harry could hear Riddle's thoughts and for that reason alone a dark shadow seemed to loom over everything.

“I know why you have followed me here” Anna said, not opening her eyes as Riddle approached her in her solitary meditation. “I have foreseen your future Riddle, and it is not a good one.”

“It's a shame for you that it took you so long to see it.”

“Damon sent you here, but you do not know Damon as we do. He is not one of us. Many of us have been granted access to leave and observe the outside world, under the condition we must pledge to return to this place. It is believed that by seeing the rest of the world and it's diminishing magic we will have a greater appreciation for this paradise we have been gifted, and for the peace we dwell in. Damon was the first to ever break this oath. Instead of feeling grateful for our world. he was filled with remorse for the chaos the rest of the magic world had fallen into. He saw wizards and witches killing each other. He sought to fix that; to enforce order onto the magic world.”

“A noble gesture” Riddle smirked, clearly thinking it to be more foolish than noble.

“Perhaps in theory. But you cannot force people against their nature, and he is learning that. The more Damon studies your world, the more corrupt he becomes in his methods. Worse yet, he had used his power to become immortal.”

“What is wrong about wanting to live forever?” Riddle scowled.

She opened her eyes now and studied him with her calm brown gaze, no hostility or resentment to be found. “I can already see the damage in your eyes from the horocruxes you created before coming here. Using magic to seek immortality destroys the soul; little by little over time. It is slower with Damon, and the effects are not physical but internal. However `noble' his intentions once were, he will one day become a monster.”

“Your world may have no use for monsters, but ours does.” And as soon as he was done speaking those words he unleashed his unstable wandless magic, a massive fire erupting from his body, fueled by his endless rage and hatred. Anna never left her meditative pose as her body was consumed in flames and turned to ash, leaving nothing but a pile of dust behind.

The fire was out of control then, leaping up and devouring the plants and trees. Panicked and unable to stop it Riddle turned and fled down the path, feeling the searing heat at his back with every step. He stumbled towards the shimmering translucent wall from which he had entered The Cradle and fell through into the icy cold tundra on the other side, landing on his hands and knees and coughing out the thick smoke of his destruction.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Harry opened his eyes he immediately knew where he was. He had spent many hours of his youth staring up at this vaulted ceiling and tracing the wooden beams as one connected to another. Even the dim lighting was familiar, the motion of the floating candles dancing along the shadowy gaps between each beam. Yes, he had woken up many times in the hospital wing, but never had he woken up to someone else being in his cot.

He could tell by Hermione's even breathing that she was asleep so he stayed still for while longer before slowly rolling so that he was facing her. His gentle motion awoke her and her eyes fluttered open. He noticed how dark her lashes were and beyond that the way the golden flecks within her brown eyes glimmered. She's beautiful he realized for the millionth time and he suddenly thought of Anna's body burning and it was like a kick in the gut.

“You're awake” she said groggily. Then waking up more she sat up quickly. “You're awake! I need to get Madame Pomfrey, I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep, I was supposed to go the library and..”

“Pomfrey can wait” he said, pulling her down towards him again. He needed the comfort of her at his side then more than ever and he was glad that she didn't protest as she sunk back to cot, resting her forehead against his. “I'm okay” he told her after a few silent minutes of letting her warm the chill from his body.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“Riddle took me into his memories and showed me how he learned about Mental Channeling. I know where Damon sent him. I also know why they had a falling out and why Riddle never really learned the skill of Mental Channeling.”

“And now you owe me what we agreed on” said a cold voice and Harry looked up to see Tom Riddle's cold eyes staring at him. “You need to free me from the trap that is your wretched mind.”

“You're one to talk” Harry growled. “I know what you did, you killed her. She offered you peace and place to belong and you burned her alive.”

Hermione jumped, startled by Harry's sudden outburst. Thank Merlin he'll be rid of Riddle soon she thought to herself. I don't think I could ever get used to him talking to thin air.

“She was weak” Riddle said, sounding disinterested. “Don't get me wrong, I thought about fucking her on occasion, but a woman like that is just not my type. Better to just burn her in the end.”

Harry shuddered, fighting the urge to launch himself at Riddle as it would be futile since he was not really there. Instead, Harry focused his energy on sending Riddle away; vanquishing him to some distant corner of his mind. It wasn't until Riddle had fully disappeared that Harry realized the room was shaking.

“Calm down” he heard Hermione say, her voice cutting through the deafening roar of anger in his ears. She kissed him suddenly and his rage dropped from his body as though it was instantly evaporated. All he could fixate on what the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body against his and the dizzying sensation that for some reason, unknown to him, she had chosen him.

There was sudden noise from outside the curtains that hid his cot from the world and a moment later Madame Pomfrey entered. Hermione jumped away from Harry so quickly that he almost laughed out loud as she looked like an embarrassed 16 year old who had been caught snogging by a professor. If Madame Pomfrey had seen anything she did not say so, instead tutting about when she realized Harry had regained consciousness. She rapidly commenced to give him a thorough inspection, over which Harry was less fussy about than he had been as a teenager. A still mortified Hermione used this as an excuse to depart, seeking out the rest of their crew.

It was late now and the hallways of Hogwarts were dark. After having been a prefect and later head girl (going back to Hogwarts for a proper 7th year had been absolutely mandatory in her mind), she knew that all students ought to be in bed aside from the prefects and house heads, whose routes she had well memorized. Thus, she wasn't worried about being seen and having to possibly use a memory charm on some poor student.

What she did not know was where to find her friends. Ultimately, she headed to the most natural place her feet would carry her; the library. Surprisingly they were all there, hovering over stacks of books. Seeing Ron studying without her there to repeatedly keep him on task was a bit of a surprise looks like ickle Ronniekins has grown up she thought with a smirk.

“I'm guessing from your pleased expression that Potter is awake” Malfoy said in a dry tone that showed no enthusiasm for the revitalization of the Boy Who Lived.

“Correct Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin.”

“Is he okay?” Ginny asked quickly, genuine concern in his eyes.

“He seems to be. I guess Riddle was showing him his memories about Mental Channeling.” Hermione's tone grew dark as she said this and she recalled Harry's words; She offered you peace and place to belong and you burned her alive. She shuddered at the thought of the horrors Harry must have seen through the eyes of that mad man.

“What did he tell you?” Draco asked, his grey eyes as dark and unreadable as ever.

Before she could respond she heard his voice from behind her. She hadn't even heard him approach, it was almost creepy how silent he could be when he wanted to. “I didn't get a chance to tell her much, but I'll tell you all now.”

He sat at the long table where they had been reading and Luna cleared the books away with a swish of her wand. He told them about the Cradle, and about the training there and about Riddle's inability to learn and his eventual departure.

“Do you think you could learn how to do Mental Channeling now that you saw what he learned?” Draco asked, his usual look of disinterest gone.

“Yes” Harry said slowly. “He struggled with it because the only emotion he had was uncontrollable hatred and anger. To me though, it made sense. It wasn't so different from what you taught me Malfoy- except that instead of pushing your feelings away, you embrace and control them, allowing them to magnify your power.”

Draco paled a bit more than usual but said nothing, leaning back in his chair and averting his gaze to the dark ceiling above.

“Harry, when you healed me… my scar… do you think that was Mental Channeling?” Hermione asked, biting her lip pensively.

“I don't know how that's possible. I didn't know anything about how it worked then.”

“But you and Malfoy have both been showing signs of wandless magic right? Might the two be related?”

“Undoubtedly they are” Harry shrugged. “But I can't quite understand how.” He looked to Malfoy but the former Slytherin was still just staring up at the ceiling as though he had heard nothing being discussed. “Anyways, I think with training I can master this technique of magic and that might just make me a match for Damon when we do find a way to track him down.”

“If he doesn't find us first” Ron pointed out.

“So I need to get started right away” Harry said with a tired sigh.

“We all do” Hermione added and Harry gave her a confused look. “Harry, you're going to need for all of us to learn Mental Channeling if you really think you're going to have a shot at stopping Damon and his Children. He's already burned Ville Cache to the ground; he's becoming a monster like Anna prophesized. He won't stop until anyone who opposes him is dead.”

“Starting with you mate” Ron once more pointed out and Harry shot him a nasty look this time.

Hermione continued as though Ron hadn't spoken. “He's not going to battle you one-on-one and even if he did the odds are in his favor. He's been practicing this for hundreds of years, no amount of training you do will equip you for that sort of power. No, his `children' and him will come at us hard- all of us. We're going to need an army of our own.”

Harry blanched at her words but he knew she was right. It was Dumbledore's Army all over again; everyone was looking at him and all he wanted to do was crawl back into that cot with Hermione and forget about it all.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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16. Chapter 16: Secrets That Kill

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since my last update! Work has been killer. Thank-you for your patience and a double thank-you to those of you who have been reviewing! It makes my day!

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CHAPTER 16: Secrets that Kill

I don't even recognize this place anymore Draco thought with disgust as he watched Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood walking side by side down the formerly dark corridor of Malfoy Manor. Since it had been infested with former Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs they had added all sorts of superfluous lighting and cleared away the dust and cobwebs. In fact, the place looked nearly cheery. It sickened him.

Draco had no friends and even fewer allies so he had not recruited anyone to what they were now adorably calling “Potter's Army”. The others had more success however, recruiting all seven billion red-headed Weasleys, former members of Dumbledore's Army, a few surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, a couple of Ginny's most trusted Quidditch mates, several Ministry workers that Hermione had vouched for and several trusted aurors that Harry had contacted. All and all their numbers were nearing 40 and it had only been a week and a half.

Fortunately they did not all live there; in fact, most of them kept their normal schedules as to not attract too much attention to their rag-tag army. Hermione had created a very specific training schedule for each volunteer and Harry barely slept as he worked around the clock trying to train each of them.

Quite obnoxiously (in Malfoy's mind), Harry had learned Mental Channeling without a problem. Not everyone was so adept however. Ron and Ginny showed some aptitude but they had trouble controlling their magic for a sustained period of time. Neville Longbottom was surprisingly good, but Luna Lovegood hadn't shown any abilities yet. Hermione could perform basic spells but lacked raw power. And Draco couldn't so much as levitate a feather.

It makes no sense Draco thought stubbornly as he retreated to the privacy of his own wing on the Manor. When I get mad I can crack stone, but when I focus I can't even crack an egg. I was the one who taught Potter to meditate, I am the one who learned to control my emotions long before he did.

But in the solace of his room he knew that wasn't entirely true. He had learned to ignore his emotions, to forcibly push them away. He didn't know how to let himself feel them and then control them. Or I'm just being a coward he thought, falling heavily onto the black comforter on his bed. I'm afraid to feel anything.

His father had always had a saying about emotions, as he did about most everything. Even when Draco was very young Lucius would treat both tears and joy with the same amount of disdain. “Emotions are the weakness of the human soul” he would say while seeing to Draco's swift and proper punishment. What did he know of a soul? Draco wondered. Is redemption possible father?

He pulled a pillow over his face as though it could block out his pointless nostalgia. My father wouldn't have known anything about redemption. He was the slave of a mad man and died being seen as a traitor and a villain all because he MAY have known something about Mental Channeling.

Draco recalled his secret meeting with Damon and the exact words he had used to justify his killings; I was simply trying to clear the world of any Death Eaters whom Riddle may have shared his knowledge of Mental Channeling with. Riddle couldn't keep his damned mouth shut, but that was not a mistake Draco was going to make. He would play his cards carefully and watch each step unfold.

There was suddenly a knock on his door and it made him jump. I thought I made it clear that nobody was to bother me here. He stormed from his bed and swung the door open to see a very tired looking Harry Potter standing on the other side. Harry's hair looked inordinately messy and his pallor was nearly sickly. Purple-blue crescents shone from beneath his eyes and they looked like bruises but they were simply from the lack of sleep and proper nourishment.

“What do you want Potter?” Draco spat, trying to hide his shock at Potter's sickly appearance.

“To thank you” Harry shrugged, sliding past Draco and into his room. He held an unopened bottle of firewhiskey up as a peace offering.

“I'd much rather a sexy female was coming here to my bedroom with a bottle of firewhiskey to `thank me'” Draco quipped.

“Listen Malfoy… I know you don't like me, or any of my friends for that matter. I get that everything you're doing- the whole good guy routine- is self serving in the end.”

Draco felt his heart freeze for a moment. Just how much DOES he know?

A moment later he was able to let out the sharp breath he had inhaled as Harry continued. “I know that you letting us use Malfoy Manor to train, and your minimal efforts to play nice with me and my friends are all in the name of seeking some sort of redemption. But still, we wouldn't be able to do this without you. Damon may be waiting for me to make the first move, but I have a feeling that he would have gladly tried an attack already if it weren't for the ancient wards that guard this place. We need Malfoy Manor… and we need you.”

Draco turned away with the excuse of grabbing a couple glasses from the bar he had in his bedroom. In truth, it was the easiest way to be sure that his face did not betray any feelings on the matter. Once he felt fully composed he gestured to the large leather armchairs he had in front of the fireplace. They both sat and Harry filled their glasses amply.

“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Draco asked, eyeing his former nemesis warily as he took a healthy gulp of the burning liquid.

“I haven't had any random magical outbursts since we removed Riddle from my mind” Harry said, staring deeply into the flames before them. It had been over a week since they had conducted an intricate enchantment, which transferred Riddle's consciousness from Harry's mind into a pendant that Harry now wore around his neck. According to Riddle, because his full magical force would be captured inside the pendant, it was truly indestructible. They all had their suspicions that Riddle was bluffing, but since everything they'd tried was ineffective Harry had ultimately decided that the safest place to keep the pendant was with him.

For his part, Draco thought it was rather morbid for one to be wearing his enemy's soul around his neck. But then, nobody ever asked Draco what he thought.

“I wasn't talking about `magical outbursts'” Draco frowned. “I was talking about the fact that you already look like a living corpse.”

“I'm fine” Harry responded, his tone edgy and harsh.

“Well, what do I care?” Draco responded, his tone equally sour. “What are you even doing here really? I dare say I've wasted enough of my time around you now to know when you're fishing for something.”

“I want to know why you can't Channel” Harry said, his tone so flat that it took Draco by surprise.

“Because I hate the idea of having super awesome powers” Draco responded in his most sarcastic tone.

“I think it's because you hate the idea of feeling anything” Harry immediately countered, nonchalantly helping himself to a refill. “Riddle couldn't Channel properly because the only emotions he could experience was hate and anger. I think you're capable of feeling more than that. Remorse and regret for example. But you've spent so much time training yourself to shut those feelings off that you're afraid of what will happen if you reach for them again.”

“What would you know of it?” Draco said, standing suddenly as the bottle of firewhiskey exploded from his sudden change in mood. “You're here bribing me with a bottle of shit liquor in the middle of the night when you should be with your adoring girlfriend. Why exactly are you avoiding her?”

Harry hadn't expected this sudden turn around and it took him a moment to think of a proper response. As he thought he waved his hand in an almost absent manner and the bottle rebuilt itself into the exact same form it had previously been in, not so much as a ripple in the surface of the liquid. “I'm not avoiding her. I've barely seen her since we got back from Hogwarts and started all this training. Both of us have been incredibly busy between training and planning and organizing. But in truth, there is something I haven't been telling her.”

There was a pained look in Harry's eyes but it was for just a moment and then it passed. Draco wondered what it was like, to feel so strongly about someone that even keeping a secret could cause such pain. Why would anyone want to be in love?

“I've been having these dreams ever since I took the odyssea potion and Riddle showed me his memories of The Cradle. They are vivid though… and I think they're more than dreams. Anna told Riddle that Mental Channeling could allow for the resurgence of other rare powers as well; for example she sometimes had premonitions of the future. I think I'm somehow seeing Damon's thoughts through my dreams.”

Draco had been waiting for Harry to make this announcement but there was a sudden tightness in his chest as he listened; a feeling of anxiety. The pieces on the board are starting to move, and soon it will be time to make my own move. “Why are you telling ME this instead of Granger or Weasley?”

“I don't want them involved” Harry said shortly. “I know where Damon is hiding, and he's alone. It's my chance to take him out.”

“Ah well, brilliant plan as usual Potter. You're going to take on a decades old wizard who is so powerful that he makes old Voldie look like a drooling first year? You think a bit too highly of your abilities.”

“That's why I need you to start bloody learning to Channel!” Harry said, standing with sudden agitation. “I will need your help.”

Draco was both surprised and nauseated by the fact that he felt somewhat touched by Harry's words. “So that's the plan then… you and I against Damon?”

“Yes, for two reasons; first is that I have no qualms about risking your life. Second is the Unbreakable Vow, you know that whole blood pact we made when we were in prison? `I vow that I will assist him in finding his parents' murderer'. Technically we still don't know who your parents' murderer was, but we know he's related to Damon, probably one of his Children. Until we figure that out though, I'm still bound to my vow to help you find out, which means we'll have to ask Damon.”

Draco no longer felt flattered. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “Potter, I don't think this will work. As I said-”

“I'm not looking for an argument” Harry said with finality in his tone. “Are you with me or not?”

“I'm with you.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione was tired. No beyond tired. She was bone achingly exhausted. When she wasn't running errands in the muggle world to keep them stocked up on food and whatever other supplies, she was organizing the schedules of a few dozen people to facilitate their Mental Channeling training. That in of itself was a labor because she didn't want to raise any red flags about their involvement. As far as they knew, anybody could be one of Damon's Children. And if one of Damon's Children noticed a known ally of Harry Potter was frequently making mysterious disappearances they might grab that person one day and question him and her.

Hermione had once been “questioned” by Belletrix Lestrange. She did not wish that sort of pain upon anyone, especially her friends. Thus she had to organize their schedules so they would attend their normal jobs and other duties and only report for training when it was certain nobody would notice them missing.

On top of all of these responsibilities, she had her own training, which was going slowly. She could perform simple spells and charms wandlessly, but her dueling ability was still very weak. Even her stunning spells could barely knock a person off their feet. Maybe if I wasn't so bloody tired all the time she thought, wondering if she could convince Malfoy to let her use his potions lab to brew some pep up potion.

She tried to refocus on the parchment in front of her on which she was writing the next week's schedule. It was difficult to schedule time in for Harry to do normal things like eat, sleep and bathe and she felt rather guilty about that. As she mused over this she realized with a pang how much she missed him. They spent almost every day under the same roof yet she hardly saw him, unless it was when he was training her, and that wasn't the sort of quality time she wanted with him. When I miss him it's like there's this emptiness within me she realized. An even greater realization was that she'd been having that exact feeling since she was a teenager, she was only starting to acknowledge it now.

Her hand was aching from writing with the quill for so long so it wasn't long before she decided a break was in order. As she rested her quill in the inkwell and leaned back in her chair there was a knock at the door. Her heart leapt at the thought that it might be Harry. With everything that had been happening they hadn't had time for so much as a proper snog, much less other things. Things she was rather eager to experience with him, despite her constant fatigue.

When the door opened, she wasn't greeted by green eyes and raven black hair. Quite the opposite; grey eyes and platinum blonde hair greeted her on the other side of the door. She still had no trust in Draco Malfoy and the sight of him reminded her of a multitude of unpleasant things, not limited to his free usage of the word “mudblood” and her treatment the last time she had been a “guest” at Malfoy Manor. Still, he had proven to be helpful and Harry had come to have some level of respect for the former Slytherin.

“Can I help you?” she asked, trying to refrain from sounding too contemptuous. He closed the door behind him and cast silencing charms on the room. Immediately she reached for her hand and pointed it at him, a warning look in her eyes.

“I'm not here to attack you Granger” he frowned. “I need to talk to you about something, and we can't be overheard.”

“What do you need to tell me?” she asked, lowering her wand but not putting it away.

“Everything.”

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Down in the massive kitchen of Malfoy Manor, Ron Weasley was enjoying an ice-cold muggle beer. He had begged Ginny and Hermione to add butter beer to the grocery list, but since they had been shopping at muggle stores to avoid being seen, that was a no-go. Thus Ginny had compromised by buying some sort of a muggle beer that Ron discovered to be quite good.

He had seen George earlier in the day and they had trained together under Harry's supervision. George reported that he was managing to keep all the branches of WWW running quite effectively, despite Ron's absence. Ron could tell it was a strain on his brother though, and he felt guilty. Not that he could be two places at once of course. And not that the work he was currently doing for “Potter's Army” wasn't important. Still, he missed his bachelor pad and the daily on goings of the joke shop, and girls. I especially miss girls he thought, taking another sip of his beer.

Yet, while he yearned for the safety and normalcy he had been living with just months ago, he didn't miss the person he had been. Being back in the way of danger had cleared his mind of some of his previous frivolity and reminded him of what was important in life; friendship and courage, and yes, love. Aside from the feelings he had for Hermione, he had never been in love and never gave much thought to the concept of it. Some part of him assumed that one-day a switch would just go off and he'd want to settle down, find a wife and have children. He never really factored in love itself, and all of its messiness and all of its magnificence.

As he was pondering this, Luna came wandering into the kitchen, her usual dreamy expression upon her features. He had seen little of her over the past week, and he realized he was quite happy to see her now. It seemed that she had been mad at him for a little while, but that had long passed and her usual warmth was back, attracting him like a moth to a flame.

“Oh, hello Ronald” she said, only just noticing him standing at the counter with his beer in hand. “How have you been? I was only just thinking how peculiar it is that we are sleeping in the same hallway of the same house yet I rarely see you.”

“You had training with Neville this morning?” Ron asked, feeling a strange surge of jealousy at the idea of Neville getting to spend time around Luna. Where did that come from? he wondered.

“Yes, Neville and a few others. Poor Harry has been run ragged by managing all these sessions. It's been rather disappointing that I haven't shown any ability at all. In all my spare time I've been trying to meditate like he taught us. Hopefully I'll show some ability soon, so Harry isn't wasting his time on me.”

“He's not!” Ron blurted out, hoping to console her. “I mean, everyone knows you're trying your best.”

She smiled gratefully but still looked a bit sad. “I just don't understand why this is happening. I know I'm not the only one struggling, but I honestly felt that I would be good at Channeling. I mean, it's about using your emotions to augment your power right? And I'm not… unemotional.”

He hugged her impulsively and felt awkward at first but then realized how perfectly she fit into his arms and how good it felt to hold her close and so he hugged her a bit longer than he intended. “I know you're not Luna. Harry said channeling is different for each person, that the way it affects your magic can vary.”

“Well, all it does for me is give me a headache” she said, a genuine smile on her face now and he realized how close they were still standing.

“A headache?”

“Yes, like a migraine behind my eyes. Maybe I'm just trying to focus too hard. Or perhaps I'm just hungry.”

“Good thing we're in a kitchen then. I haven't eaten either, shall I make us something?” he wasn't sure why he offered. He had never cooked much in all of his life. Molly was a whiz in the kitchen, but Ron had gotten none of those genetics.

The look on her face just further committed him to the task. She seemed to light up. “You are going to cook me dinner?”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “How hard can it be? Why don't I get you one of these muggle beers to sip on while I cook something up?”

“Sure” she agreed and he cracked one open with a weird little device that Ginny called an opener bottler… or something like that. Luna took a delicate sip that he found positively adorable and then nodded her approval. “I like it. It reminds me of a warbalee nectar elixar….”

She continued to prattle on about some creature called a warbalee (which he was quite certain wasn't real) and he looked through the cabinets to see what there was to be cooked. He found a couple packages of noodles that only required hot water, and then he found some peanut butter and bunch of saltine crackers and a can of tomato soup. Since he liked all of those things (and they required no preparation) he threw them all into a big pot together and boiled them up.

Halfway through he thought that his master recipe might not be so good after all and he frowned as he poked at it with a long spoon. “What's wrong?” Luna asked, seeing his distress.

“I may have… miscalculated the recipe” he said, trying to sound adult in spite of the disaster before him. She walked over to have a look and he grew nervous.

“It smells delicious!” she exclaimed, and taking the spoon from him she dipped it into the pot and tasted a sample. “Ronald, it's great!”

He looked at her, certain she was lying but decided not to argue. He ladled out two bowls for each of them, and while it was not “great” as she had said, he had never been one to fuss about what he put in his stomach. As he made his way through the pile of noodles and soggy crackers with a tomato/ peanut butter sauce he managed to find it more and more enjoyable. They split another couple beers and talked about all manners of things and for the first time in a long time he found himself smiling.

Luna, for her part, ate seconds of Ron's concoction.

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“Can I sit?” Draco asked as a flustered looking Hermione was still staring at him, wand in hand.

“Fine” she said, gesturing to the chair across the desk from him. It was of course, his office, his desk and his chair. “What do you mean `everything'?” She asked, a feeling of dread in her.

“Where to start…”

There was a long pause in which she grew quite impatient. “Honestly Malfoy, are you just here to waste me time?”

That old smug grin she so hated from Hogwarts reappeared on his face for a moment but then vanished. “No, this is quite serious. I suppose I'll start with the fact that lied to you all. I did meet with Damon. I never thought he'd show up, and figured it was a rather idiotic scheme but he did come to that grotesque, nameless bar he seems to so love conducting business in.”

Hermione frowned. “Why did you lie about it? No, more importantly, why are you telling me now?”

“You really are the only quick witted one in the terrible trio” Draco responded. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a compliment or some sort of backhanded insult, but she hardly cared. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears and trepidation had made her mouth dry. “When I met with Damon, I did exactly what I had planned with Potter. I told him I wanted to become one of his `children', that I was willing to turn you all in for the prize of being his servant. There was only one of you he wanted of course.”

“Harry” she said promptly. There had been a time when Damon wanted her dead because she would not give up the pardoned Death Eaters. Those games had long passed now and they were back to singing the same old tune; the evil wizard wants Harry Potter's head on a platter.

“It's really a shame for Potter that it's always demented wizards who want him and not gorgeous swimsuit models. No offense.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you saw him and he told you he wanted Harry in exchange for making you a part of his plans.”

“Yes, and he forced me into a rather awkward predicament. He planned a rather elaborate trap for Potter. He gave me a memory of himself alone at The Cradle and I needed to somehow plant that memory into Potter's brain so that he'd think it was some sort of legillmency. Damon presumed that Potter would go rushing to The Cradle by his lonesome in a noble effort to finish him off tete-a-tete. So far, that plan is working quite well.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione didn't realize that she was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“When I made the Odyssea potion it was the perfect opportunity to slip Damon's memory in. Potter just came to me about an hour ago telling me about how he's been having these dreams about Damon's location.”

“Why did he tell you and not me?”

“Oh come on Granger. You know Potter better than anyone don't you? He's trying to play hero as always. Saint Potter knows that if he tells you, you'll demand to be at his side and you might very well get yourself killed. He doesn't want any more blood of those he cares about on his hands. Me on the other hand, he does not mind losing.”

Hermione's mind whirled. Her first thoughts were those of anger; anger that Harry had kept this secret from her, that he would still try to shoulder everything alone despite all that they'd been through. But quickly that indignant feeling gave way to sadness. Of course he would do it this way. He's lost everyone he's ever loved aside from Ron and I. How could I expect him to take that risk? She tried to mask her feelings from Draco and continued to question him after a beat. “So, you met up with Damon and lied about it and then you snuck a memory into Harry's Odyssea potion that will lure him into a trap. It sounds like your plan to kill Harry is going quite well. Why tell me?”

Draco gritted his teeth. “If I wanted Potter dead I would have found a way much earlier than this. I only lied because I had made an unbreakable oath to Damon saying I would deliver an UNAWARE Potter to him. As I said, it's an awkward predicament. I've been waiting to see how things pan out before I came to you because I needed to determine what the next move would be. Unsurprisingly, he wants to go face Damon alone. He thinks he's the one sneaking up on Damon, but really Damon will be all ready for him.”

“We can't let him go then! What if I'm the one to warn Harry…”

“That will still be breaking my oath. I vowed that Potter would show up for their fight unaware of Damon's plans. You warning him makes him aware.”

“So we're supposed to blindly let him walk into this and be killed?? He's not powerful enough to take on Damon…”

“I agree. I tried to tell him as much, and he insisted that I go with him but refused to bring any of you along. There's still an opportunity here. I said Potter would be unaware of the trap- but what if the rest of this little `army' you've been assembling secretly followed him to the battle? Damon is powerful but surely he couldn't defeat dozens of us in combat.”

“How do you know Damon will be alone?”

“Because Damon assured me he would be. When it comes to certain tasks, like killing my parents, Damon does the dirty work himself.”

Hermione was stunned. Draco had mentioned his parents murder so casually that he might have been discussing the weather. When she resumed talking her tone was a bit more gentle. “So, Damon did it himself then?”

Draco looked away for a moment. “Yes. I recognized his voice when I met with him that night.” Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, you are being exterminated as a result of knowledge imparted on you by Tom Riddle. This is part of a cleansing process. He shook his head as if doing so could clear the memory from his mind. It didn't work. All he saw was their unmoving covered bodies on the floor of the library, the dying embers of the hearth reflecting off their dark puddles of blood. “Anyhow, I am certain he will be alone and will not be expecting an army to attack him. I may have lied, but I've given us a once in a lifetime opportunity to turn the tables on Damon and take him out.”

“Yes, it's a great opportunity except for the part where every person Harry has ever trusted has to keep his a secret from him. Do you realize what this could do to him?”

“Yes, Potter will be angry when he sorts it all out. But better angry than dead right?”

There was no debating that question, she knew the answer instantly. But will he ever forgive me?

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Draco was staring at Harry in a very intense way and Harry was responding in an almost disinterested fashion. They were alone in one of Malfoy Manor's large ballrooms and they were both standing, unmoving as the nearby fireplace cast long shadows across the black marble floor. After what seemed like an awkward eternity of standing in still silence Harry rolled his eyes and sent Draco flying across the room without lifting so much as a finger.

“Honestly Malfoy, are you even trying?” he asked, exasperated. It had been nearly a week since Draco had pledged that he would help Harry take Damon on, and Harry had dedicated every waking moment he could spare to the attempt to get the former Slytherin to learn Channeling. Of course, he had to keep up his training sessions with the others as well since he did not want them to suspect anything. It was all very time consuming and exhausting. His nerves were on edge.

Draco dusted himself off, rubbing his lower back where it was undoubtedly bruised from Harry's assault. “No Potter, I love being tossed around like a rag doll.”

“You know what I think? I think you're stalling. I think you're afraid to face Damon. I think you're a coward.” That got Malfoy's cold blood boiling and suddenly the room was shaking with his fury. “Cute trick Malfoy, but can you control it? Why is it that you can use wandless magic when you get mad but no other time? Maybe you're just like Riddle. Maybe you'll never learn.” The shaking stopped as Draco took a deep breath and pushed his rage away. “Oh what the fuck?! Why do you keep stopping yourself?”

Harry threw Draco once more, this time hurling him rather brutally against a wall. Draco groaned in frustration. “I am nothing like Riddle” Draco said, gritting his teeth as he stood. “I've learned to control my rage and fear. How is that a bad thing?”

“You didn't learn to control it; you learned to shut it off. You can't Channel if you don't allow yourself to feel anything.”

“Fine, I get it. Whatever. I'm done.” Draco headed for the exit, a slight limp in his step. Harry thought about giving him one last push for good measure, but it wasn't doing anything to help so he stopped himself.

“I am leaving tomorrow, with or without you.”

“You'll die” Draco spat, turning back suddenly and looking at Harry with a dark look in his grey eyes.

“That'll be on your conscience” Harry retorted.

“Oh no it won't. Why should I care if Saint Potter dies? You've been nothing but a nuisance since the day I met you. I would be glad to be rid of you.”

“Fine, if that's how you feel Malfoy” Harry shrugged. He was acting like it was of no concern to him, but somehow Draco perceived otherwise. Oddly enough, he felt quite certain that Harry Potter cared about what Draco Malfoy thought of him. It was a rather startling revelation.

“Channeling or no, I will be there tomorrow” Draco said, finality in his words. Then he exited the ballroom in need of medical attention and Harry was left standing in the shadows. It was just before midnight and he thought that maybe he should spend some more time practicing for the battle that was to come tomorrow. He levitated a flame from the fire and sent it dancing around the room, easily controlling its motions with his mind. Suddenly he thought of Anna burning and stopped immediately, the flame extinguishing mid-air. I'm so tired he realized, suddenly sitting down heavily in the middle of the room.

He thought about going to find Hermione. It was possible she was sleeping, but she might also be awake working away somewhere. He had seen even less of her in the past week than he had the week before. It was almost as though she was avoiding him, but he decided that such thoughts were paranoid delusion. If I fail tomorrow and I die, I will be condemning them all to fight on without me. Will she ever forgive me for what I'm about to do?

A longing desire to see her built up in him suddenly. He wanted to taste her lips upon his, feel her warmth against him, hold her in his arms. There was also a matter of unabated lust that kept creeping up on him. Even before realizing he was in love with her he had entertained many thoughts of sleeping with her. How could he not? They had been teenagers alone in a tent for months at a time and she had been the only girl he ever felt 100 percent comfortable being himself around. Of course she was also quite gorgeous. Before there had always been two key factors that made sleeping with her an unlikely fantasy. The first was the friendship factor and not wanting to ruin their close bond with sex. But the second, and most pressing factor, was the assumption that she would never want him.

But now she had told him she loved him and that was still shattering his world.

He could find her right now and he could hold her and kiss her and take her to one of Malfoy Manor's many beds and if he did he would die a happy man if things went wrong the next day. But it wouldn't quite be fair and he knew it. If he did die she might always feel used knowing that he had slept with her while carrying such a heavy secret. It would be dishonest in a way.

The door to the ballroom re-opened and there she was, standing there as though she had heard his thoughts. She gave him a worried look as he was sitting alone on the floor and he imagined he looked rather ridiculous, not knowing what was really behind that cinnamon brown gaze. He is thinking about how he might die tomorrow and he can't even tell me about it.

Her heart ached for him; for his stupid nobility and his stubborn altruism. She wanted to tell him that she knew, that it wasn't his burden to carry alone but she couldn't without risking the whole operation not to mention inadvertently breaking Malfoy's oath. She thought about how Harry had turned himself over to Voldemort as a teen, that heartbreaking moment when she accepted that it was the only way. For months she had watched that inevitability weigh on him, and he had much the same look on his features now. This was why she had been avoiding him lately. But one or both of them could be dead within the next 24 hours and so she had mustered up her Gryffindor courage to find him and say goodbye without actually saying goodbye.

As she moved towards him she realized she didn't have the words and so when she sat on the cold marble floor beside him she did the only thing she could think to do and kissed him. It was a kiss of longing, of passion of years of words unspoken and dreams that may never be fulfilled. When they parted his emerald green eyes sparkled with confusion but he did not speak. She wanted more suddenly, she longed to feel his hard, smooth chest beneath her hands and take from him everything she'd always wanted but been too scared to initiate.

Yet somehow, with the secrets between them it seemed dishonest, impure. It was with that thought that she rested her head on his lap instead, staring into the flames as she took solace in the steady feeling on his hand brushing her hair back from her face in a soothing motion. Neither of them spoke as the flames died down and the shadows grew around them like secrets threatening to swallow them whole.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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17. Chapter 17: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Author's Note: Reviews have slowed down a bit, so if you're still out there reading take a min to let me know what you think of this chapter, I promise it's an action packed one

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CHAPTER 17: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Fuck Harry Potter Draco thought to himself as he gazed at the bruises stretching across his pale chest. He could feel that there were more on his lower back but he couldn't quite get at the right angle for a proper look. At least this isn't as bad as that sectumpempra ordeal.

It wasn't the bruises that ached him as much as that nagging sense of failure. Once more he had failed at something that Harry exceeded at and this time Draco couldn't find it in him to hate Harry for it. Why is that? he wondered. As he stood alone in his bedroom the only person he hated was himself.

There was a sudden knock on the door and he pulled his shirt back on, not bothering to button it up as he headed to the door, rolling his eyes. “Seriously Potter, if you keep showing up at my bedroom door like this Granger is going to get suspicious…” but when he opened the door it wasn't The Boy Who Lived on the other side, but rather The Girl Who Used to Shag The Boy Who Lived, aka Ginevra Weasley.

“It will break Ron's heart when he hears about your midnight visits from Harry” Ginny joked, not missing a beat.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying his best to sound spiteful but instead sounding confused and weary.

“I wanted to ask you about… what the hell happened to you?” she asked, her eyes suddenly fixated on his chest. His rather well defined chest she thought to herself. He's not as muscular as Harry but he has a rather sexy, lean build. I wonder….

“Are you even listening to me?” he sighed and Ginny's eyes snapped away from their previous view. She hadn't even noticed he'd been talking. “I said that Potter happened to me. He kicked my ass all over my own house.”

“You probably deserved it” she said, but there was no malice in her tone. In fact, the way she said it was soft and almost sweet. Sweet? he thought to himself, SWEET?! Where the bloody hell did that come from? “I can heal those you know.”

“I thought you were a Quidditch player, not a mediwitch” he tried to argue, but the idea of alleviating the pain he was experiencing throughout his body was too good to pass up.

“I'm flattered you've been following my career” she retorted, entering the room as he finally stepped away from blocking the door. “But as you know, Quidditch isn't a game without its fair share of broken bones, scrapes and bruises.” She looked around his room once inside and noticed how vast it was. Everything in the Manor was extravagant and his room was no exception. His massive four-post bed was carved from a dark wood and hand-worked to show serpents curving around the bannisters. The hearth was big enough for her to sleep inside (had it not been hosting a fire) and the mantle was adorned with more serpents, all fashioned from real silver. There was a small bar in the corner and several antique pieces of furniture surrounded the fireplace, but overall it had a distinctly cold feeling. A cold home gave him a cold heart she pondered as he fully removed his shirt.

Healing the marks on his chest and arms was easy, but the ones on his back took a bit longer. They were massive purple bruises with angry looking red outlines. “He really did number on you” she whistled as she cleared up the final one, which had been on his right shoulder blade. He said nothing, simply reaching for his shirt, and in that split moment she made an odd decision she would never quite understand and ever so briefly kissed the newly healed spot on his bare skin. It might have been because she felt sorry for him; the cold boy in the cold house. Or maybe it was because she always found bad boys alluring (and who could be worse than her family's sworn enemy?). Whatever the reason, he did not seem to react and she quickly excused herself, leaving his room, her initial purpose forgotten.

Once she was gone he reached for the bottle of firewhiskey he kept in his bar, deciding a nightcap was in order, his mind reeling from what had just transpired. As he absently extended his arm towards it, the bottle suddenly lifted up and drifted through the air, landing firmly in his grasp. He blinked for a moment, realizing he had used Mental Channeling for the first time.

He heard Harry's words from before echo in his ears once more. You can't Channel if you don't allow yourself to feel anything.

“I'll be damned” Draco muttered aloud, not sure what else to say as he swigged directly from the bottle.

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Damon's wispy auburn locks were pushed back from his face as a warm, soothing breeze billowed through the dense jungle that surrounded him. Birds sang from above and the sound of the ocean was nearby as he walked.

He was still not welcome to return to The Cradle, not since his decision to use his power for immortality and to leave his home to seek greater influence. He did not regret his decision though, and while he was not welcome in the village, the island was big enough for him to find a quiet place to hide out without alerting others to his presence.

He did not miss being a member of the simplistic lifestyle of those who had dedicated themselves to meditation and purity of magic. Yet sometimes he missed the sound of waves, and that was when he would come home. He arrived on a sandy beach and sat cross-legged as the crystal clear waters kissed the shore. He needed to clear his mind and plan his next move. He needed to be clever to defeat his next target; Harry Potter.

“HARRY POTTER!” a voice roared and he awoke suddenly from the same dream he had been having for weeks now. No, it's more than a dream. I am seeing what Damon is currently thinking about. He's alone but he won't be for long. I need to strike now.

“Harry wake up!” the annoyed voice repeated and he felt a toe jab his ribs and he groaned. Squinting he looked up to see Ron Weasley standing above him. “Why the bloody hell did you sleep here? You do realize there are about a million beds in this place.”

“Hermione…” Harry grumbled, realizing she was gone. Last he recalled she had been resting on his lap. The way she kissed me it was as though…

“What did she kick you out of her room? I wouldn't blame her everyone knows you can be a bloody git. Still, there are other beds, or even one of those lumpy old sofas would be better than a cold marble floor I reckon.”

“Ugh no, we were talking” well, not really TALKING he realized “and I guess I dozed off.”

“She must have been miffed about something if she let you sleep on the floor instead of waking you up.”

“I wasn't `miffed' Ronald” Hermione interjected as she entered the room. “I fell asleep too actually. I was just in the kitchen getting us something to eat.”

Ron eyed the large stack of toast she had greedily and pulled a few slices for himself from the pile before she could stop him. Harry gave her a weak grin and tried his best to eat a slice but now all he could think about was the fact that he was only hours away from facing Damon. The three of them sat for a few minutes, eating in silence and he drew his strength from their presence. If I defeat Damon today we'll all be safe again… they'll be safe again.

“Malfoy is looking for you Harry” Hermione said, her tone flat and unreadable. Ron suddenly looked pale but said nothing, stuffing another slice of bread into his mouth.

“Ah” was all Harry could reply. “It's probably about training.” It was a lie of course, and it felt unnatural coming out of his mouth. He knew Malfoy was looking for him so they could set out and face Damon. He stood slowly and reluctantly, wishing he could forever stay in this simple scene of eating breakfast with his two favorite people in the world.

“Uh, good luck mate” Ron said in hurried manner, suddenly fascinated with the floor.

“Um, thanks…” Harry responded, slightly perplexed about Ron's sudden affinity for Draco's training progress.

Hermione suddenly looked like she might run, laugh, cry or faint, but before he could become nervous about it she eased into a soft smile, her eyes meeting his. “Harry I… well, never mind. You already know.”

He had no idea what she meant by that but he felt so uncomfortable by their sudden weirdness that he decided it was best to just leave. His emotions were a jumble and prolonging the inevitable would not help. I have to win. I have to win. I have to win became his mantra as he left the ballroom and marched down the hallway.

He found Draco leaning in a typical insolent posture against one of the bannisters in the hallway. “Alright Potter, are you ready?”

“As much as I'll ever be” Harry said grimly.

“Do you know where we're going? You still haven't told me.”

“The Cradle” Harry said, certainty in his voice. That is where Damon plots and hides.

“Perhaps I misunderstand. Isn't The Cradle nearly impossible to find?”

“Nearly. But Riddle found it once and I have.. er, I had his memories” Harry corrected himself, toying the little pendant around his neck as he spoke. “I can apparate us to a nearby point and then we will have to walk to the porthole.”

“The porthole?” Draco blinked, but Harry didn't answer, simply moving forward as though to grab his arm and side-along apparate him. “Woah, wait a minute! There's something I think you might need…” Draco stepped away from Harry and turned towards a set of double doors that Harry had not seen in some time, leading him into the Malfoy family armory. Harry gave him a suspicious look as Draco led him into the very back, where the dragon hide armor he had once sported was featured, along with several similar suits. “Take your pick.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the armor and then Draco and then back at the armor. “Are you sure?”

“Look Potter, don't get all gushy about it. I showed a slight ability to Channel last night, but definitely not enough to take on an immortal bad ass. I'm hoping my wand work will be sufficient, but it will sure up our chances if we wear the armor to deflect some of his spells. And a few back-up weapons wouldn't hurt either.”

“Alright well I… I appreciate it.”

For a moment, Draco felt guilty for the secrets he'd been keeping from Harry and for the tricks he'd had to play to put all the pieces in their proper places to take Damon down. What is wrong with me? he wondered as Harry suited up. First that nonsense with Ginny who is a WEASLEY of all things, and now this soft spot for Saint Potter. I'm doing what must be done, the ends will justify the means.

And once more that word that had been ringing in his ears for so long was heard. Redemption.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“I feel like a fucking git” Ron groaned once Harry had left the room. “He's our best mate and here we are conspiring with Draco Bloody Malfoy behind his back. What if Malfoy is just leading us on? What if this whole thing is a big fat trap for Malfoy to take us out once and for all?”

“I don't think Malfoy's middle name is `Bloody'” Hermione commented absently. “Although, it would be fitting I suppose.”

“Hermione, are you purposely being daft? Even if he survives this Harry's going to kill the both of us for going through with this… that is to say if WE survive this. In that battle at the Burrow, aurors were dropping like flies. None of us can Channel well enough yet and…”

“First off Ronald, it's different this time. It won't be us versus an army, it will only be Damon. Damon believes that Malfoy will deliver Harry to him; he will not be expecting us so he won't have his Children with him. Damon's the only target that really matters right now. His Children we can deal with later, and with any luck they'll scatter once their Master is gone. Second, Harry will not kill you when he finds out about what we've done. You're like a brother to him, you know that.”

The redness in the tips of Ron's ears faded slightly as he heard these words and he let out a slow breath. “You're right. And I know this is the only way for us to take Damon down but I just wish… I wish things were different. I wish we had more time, I wish we weren't lying to him.”

If only magic could grant wishes she thought somberly, rising to her feet from the cold marble floor. There were thousands of things she wished for, the majority of which surrounded the man she loved; the man she was lying to save. It makes no sense she pondered as she offered Ron a hand up. We're both keeping secrets in hopes of saving each other… when did we become these people?

She tried to remind herself that this was an unusual circumstance and that even when he discovered the truth he would forgive her, just as she had already forgiven his boneheaded attempt to conceal his heroic plans a secret. Yet still those nagging doubts persisted…What if he doesn't forgive me though? What if he can't? And then the dreaded final thought… what if he dies?

Now wasn't the time for second thoughts though. For the past week she had been talking with members of “Potter's Army” individually, filling them in on the situation and preparing them for the impending battle. It was not a task that came naturally to her; she could be bossy and she was experienced in battle, but she had never felt comfortable leading in this sort of role. That had always been Harry's legacy, despite his personal issues with it. Still, dire times called for dire actions so she had stepped up and done her best. Of course, she had Malfoy's support, but that hardly counted for much in the eyes of those who were fighting. Ron had also done his best to help, but he had always been a follower more than a leader. In the end, if anyone had eased her burden it was Luna Lovegood whose odd manner was strangely calming as they plotted.

Plotted. That word burned its way into her mind. There was no other word for what she been doing except for that one.

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Draco had expected Harry to apparate them to some majestic forest or mystical mountainside. Instead they ended up in the middle of a frost covered field that offered the splendid view of absolutely nothing as far as the eye could see.

They had to walk for a while and they did not talk. There was noting to say anyways. After some time, there was a shimmering wall before them and Draco realized that this was what Harry had referred to as a “porthole”. Just before they passed through it, Draco dropped a small, unmarked silver coin on the ground.

Based on Harry's description, Draco expected The Cradle to be a beautiful, tropical paradise. He imagined palm trees and exotic plants. He expected clear blue skies and ocean waves. The sky was blue, and in the far distance he could see the ocean. But everything else had turned to ash. They were surrounded by a world of grey, and when the wind blew it would stir the ash up around them, obstructing their view of that flawless sky. It was like a blizzard of black and grey flakes falling all around them.

“Something is very wrong…” Harry said slowly, and a moment later Damon appeared, looking not one bit different than the last time Draco had seen him. He had an imperious look on his face that fell just short of smug.

“Harry Potter. We meet at last.” Damon seemed entirely at ease, his graceful stride almost lethargic as he approached them.

Harry gaped, clearly baffled. This was not the vision he had seen just hours before in his dreams. Where are all the trees and plants? “What happened? In my dreams I saw you…”

“Ah yes, your dreams were a lie. I had Mr. Malfoy here make sure they were slipped into your subconscious. As you can see, The Cradle is no longer the paradise on Earth I showed you.”

Harry spun on Draco, a thousand emotions hitting him at once; fear, anger, shame, defeat and sadness. “So, you're on his side are you? I was a fool to ever trust you even for a split second. You're a snake Malfoy.” He tried to spit the words at the platinum haired man, but somehow his heart felt too heavy to be filled with rage and his tone was that of a lost and hopeless boy.

“Yes, I lied to you” Draco responded, not taking his eyes off of Damon. “I met with Damon and vowed that I would lure you here. Damon falsified a memory and I slipped it into the Odyssea potion the last time you took it. Those `dreams' you thought you were having were put there by me.”

“Yes Mr. Malfoy, you have done quite well. Are you wondering what's happened to my home Mr. Potter? Or perhaps you already know.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment; suddenly feeling like a ton of pressure was weighing down on him. He'd been tricked. He was going to fail. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, trying to find a loophole, a way out. But there was only one course- as there was always only one course. He would have to fight.

As Harry regained himself he recalled Riddle's memory of Anna burning alive. He remembered that uncontrollable magic, that burning hot rage. “Riddle burned it down.”

“Yes. I underestimated his lack of control, the extent of his hatred. He couldn't control the flames he unleashed. He burned down the entire island. He killed everyone.”

There was no sadness in Damon's voice but Harry felt a sudden pang of grief. He could remember seeing the faces of the villagers through Riddle's eyes. They were peaceful, good people. They were preserving all that was wonderful and natural in magic; they were the last of a great legacy. And Riddle had killed them all.

Suddenly, something dawned on Harry very slowly. “When you chose not to go after Riddle, chose not to defeat Voldemort, it wasn't because you were biding your time and waiting for the `opportune moment'. It was because you were afraid of him. You were afraid when you realized what he'd done.”

As he said this, Harry's hand instinctively reached for the pendant around his neck; the one that held Tom Riddle's soul. As he enclosed his fist around it he saw Damon's eyes widen.

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Potter's Army was assembled in one of the Manor's great ballrooms, waiting for the sign from Hermione to move into action. Despite the fact that there was nearly forty of them standing about, it was utterly silent. The tension drowned all conversation and stopped words dead in their mouths.

Hermione looked around, wondering if this would work, if what they were doing was the right course of action. She was filled with dread and doubt and worse yet, an unstoppable churning feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. Her hands felt clammy as they played with a small gold coin. And then, after what felt like an eternity, it started to burn.

When they started forming an army, she had implemented the same coin system for communication as she had used with Dumbledore's Army. However, this time she had added an important twist. It was a rather brilliant piece of magic work (even Malfoy begrudgingly admitted so) that would allow the coins to act as points of transport, like a portkey. In this case, Malfoy had a specially enchanted silver coin that acted as an end point, pulling all of those with the gold coins to its location. The burning of the coin meant it was time to go.

“Alright” she said, trying to sound confident and commanding. Everyone looked towards her, holding their coins out. “Let's go.”

At once they all closed their fists around the coins, and within a split second they went from standing in Malfoy Manor to the middle of freezing cold field. She shivered and looked around, wand drawn. A few meters from where they stood she noticed a strange shimmering in the air and she knew this is where they needed to go. As she walked forward Ron stood at her side with Ginny and Luna close behind.

They walked through the force field and on the other side was an ash-covered world that looked exactly like what she imagined hell to be like. Not far off she immediately saw Draco, Harry and an unfamiliar man that could only be Damon, standing face to face. Harry and Draco's backs were turned towards her so she urged the army to rush forward as Damon spotted them. The fighting hasn't started yet. We can get him now, take him out before he knows what's hit him. She saw Damon's mouth move but she was still too far away to hear what he was saying. She aimed her wand, ready to start the assault on Damon as soon as Harry and Draco were clear. We're going to end this nightmare right here, right now.

As soon as that thought formed in her mind she was hit with a spell that seemed to come from nowhere. She felt her feet leave the ground as her body was hurled through the air in a dizzying fashion and then everything went black.

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Damon's eyes were fixed on Harry and there was a look of fear in his gaze. Draco did not seem to notice, and took the moment of silence to speak up once more. “I may have tricked Potter into coming here. But we didn't come alone.”

Damon's eyes snapped away from the trinket around Harry's neck and his demeanor quickly shifted. “Oh Mr. Malfoy, I knew you would find a way to betray me, despite the vow you made. You are quite like Tom Riddle after all. Unfortunately for you, I already perceived of this move. In fact, I was depending on you bringing along your little army so I could finish you all off at once.”

“You overestimate your power” Draco barked, anger lashing out from within him like a hot flame. He had been so careful, so calculating. What did I miss? he wondered. And then the answer came. Rising from the ashes like a flock of phoenixes were Damon's Children. Garbed in black cloaks and hoods that concealed their faces they strode towards him and Harry, an army of 100 powerful beings.

Harry's head was spinning. Draco's elaborate series of betrayals was difficult to follow, and then there was this matter of what Damon had called “your little army”. What army does Draco have? he thought, his heart beating in his ears as he saw Damon's Children advance towards them. The answer rose slowly to the surface and suddenly the world was silent. It wasn't Draco's army; it was Harry's army. Draco had brought Hermione, the Weasleys and many others right into battle against an army with twice their numbers and twice their skills. Harry turned away from Damon and saw his friends there, heroically racing forward, wands poised. He watched as a spell hit Hermione, hurling her into the air before she fell to the ground with incredible impact.

Harry felt his heart stop. Suddenly he was not concerned with Damon or his “children” or the double-crossing Slytherin named Draco Malfoy. The sounds of battle came roaring into his ears as he snapped back into focus and re-gained his senses. With one hand still clutching the orb that held Riddle's soul, he gestured towards Damon as he felt a wave of power emit from his body. Harry turned away from Hermione's crumbled form just long enough to see Damon falling backwards, a look of surprise on his face. Harry didn't care about this either. All he cared about was getting to Hermione.

He ran to her full speed, a strong shielding spell keeping him safe from the multitude of spells that were flying through the air. Briefly he noticed how Ron and Luna were fighting side by side. Neither of them had learned to Channel well enough to disregard their wands but they were holding up solidly nonetheless.

When he reached Hermione he threw himself over her, allowing his shielding spell to envelope both of them. Frantically, he searched for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when he found one. Blood trickled down the side of her face and he realized it was also covering his hands. More blood on my hands.

“RON!” Harry roared, not sure if his best friend could hear him above the chaos of battle. The air had become thick with black ash, disguising the swift and silent movements of Damon's Children. When a robed figure approached Harry suddenly from out of the mist it nearly surprised him. A primal surge of protective rage washed over him as he guarded Hermione's still unmoving body. He channeled it into a well-aimed stunning hex that drove the attacker from its feet and sent it spiraling to the ground where it did not move. “RON!” he shouted once again, now unable to see the red head in the dust of the battle. Please be okay he thought to himself, not sure who in particular he was praying for.

When Ron suddenly emerged from the blanket of ash Harry nearly attacked him but luckily his red hair acted as a warning symbol, stopping Harry before he made a regrettable mistake. Ron was clutching Luna's hand and she was still shooting off a series of spells, fighting some enemy that Harry could not see. Harry gestured to Hermione and Ron scrambled to her side. With both boys kneeling on either side of her, Harry yelled over the chaos. “Take Hermione and get everyone out of here!”

Ron reached for the gold coin in his pocket, activating it as a signal for retreat. Harry picked Hermione up in his arms and kissed her brow, regretting every moment that had led to this one. He handed her to Ron, hesitating ever so slightly at the thought of letting her go. Ron nodded to show that he would keep her safe and then looked to Luna for coverage as they stepped closer together.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked, his blue eyes suddenly looking ancient as he held his wounded friend in his arms.

“To finish this” Harry growled. For a moment Ron looked like he might protest, but if he was going to he never had the chance because Harry had disappeared into the dust.

Harry could only hope that everyone made it out safely, but he had no way of knowing. He also had no way of knowing if Hermione was going to be okay. He had no way of knowing if he could possibly take Damon down, especially with all of his Children around. He knew little to nothing; but damn it, he was going to try anyways. “DAMON!” he shouted, his wrath increasing with each step as he made his way through a dust so thick that it blocked out the sun and the sky. “SHOW YOURSELF!”

“Damon doesn't want to play anymore” said a familiar lilting voice, and Harry didn't even have time to turn before Draco Malfoy was bringing a sword down against his armored back with such force that it knocked him forward. Landing on his hands and knees he coughed hard at the taste of soot in his mouth. Standing quickly he turned towards Draco, who was yielding the double-handed broad sword that he had equipped himself with at the Malfoy armory. As Harry rolled away from another slash, he suddenly wished that he had grabbed a choice weapon for himself.

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell…” but before Harry could finish the question he looked into Malfoy's eyes, which were usually silver but now had a clouded over, pearly white sheen. It's some form of the Imperius Curse Harry realized as he quickly sidestepped Draco's forward thrust. Backing quickly away he realized how quiet everything had become. Damon had left and so had his Children. The ash was slowly settling back to the ground and the only noise was that of the steady waves off in the distance. Why would he leave when he had the upper hand?

Draco came charging at Harry once more and this time Harry's auror skills in hand-to-hand combat kicked in. Harry ducked and Draco's wide swing just missed his head by a hair length. Harry tackled Draco around the waist, knocking him heavily to the ground. “Fight it Malfoy” Harry said, his teeth gritted as he attempted to grapple the sword away from his former enemy. However mad he was with Draco for lying and putting everyone in danger, he did not want to hurt him. They had been through too much now, and despite all of his conniving and prickly mannerism Harry had genuinely come to believe that Draco Malfoy was doing his best to redeem himself for his past transgressions.

The sword was pinned between their bodies and if it wasn't for the thick dragonhide armor they were both wearing, Harry was sure they would both be severed in half. Normally Harry was stronger than Draco due to his training, but whatever curse Draco was under gave him more strength than usual and Harry was quickly losing the battle to gain control of the blade. When the blade did come loose from their tug of war, everything happened very quickly.

Draco shook Harry from the sword, throwing him off of him and onto the ground nearby. As Draco poised the weapon for another attack and attempted to get to his feet Harry used his last bit of energy to throw himself forward, catching Draco off balance in such a way that the sword slipped from his hands. For one terrible moment the sword was in mid air, both men grappling for it as it shone in the light. Time seemed to slow and it was like they were both competing to grab the snitch once more.

As had happened many times before, Harry was the one who made the catch first. As the sword landed in his hand he gripped it, holding it forward as Draco stumbled towards it, unable to stop his momentum. Before Harry could process the moment, Draco was falling on the blade. Alone in the Cradle, ash still falling like snowflakes, Harry Potter witnessed the sickening sensation of the blade impaling its way through Draco Malfoy's armor, skin, bones and organs.

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18. Chapter 18: Wounds Too Deep

Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who checked in with reviews on the last chapter! I am so pleased to hear that many of you are still reading and enjoying this fic Without further ado, I give you Chapter 18.

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CHAPTER 18: Wounds Too Deep

The blade piercing through Draco's chest had somehow snapped him out of the curse that had been controlling him. His cloudy gaze became clear just in time for Harry to see the look of excruciating pain and horror that crossed his pale features. Harry caught him before he could fall and lowered Draco's armored body to the ground, unable to tear his gaze from the blade that was protruding from his body. Blood poured in rivers from the open wound, coating Harry's armor as he kneeled in the ash, too shocked to move.

“Not like this” Draco whispered before losing consciousness. The words cut through Harry like a hot blade and he snapped in action. Waving his hand over Draco's body he channeled his magic to immobilize the motionless body and levitate it. Then he ran for the porthole, the body trailing behind him, leaving spattered blood amongst the wreckage of a paradise turned hell. As soon as he was on the other side he grabbed Draco's wrist and apparated them to Malfoy Manor.

The scene at the Manor was one of chaos. In her infinite wisdom Hermione had the foresight to turn one of the Manor's many empty wings into a makeshift infirmary before the battle. Harry discovered this by following the panicked masses of people there. Many were injured, some were unmoving. Hermione has solicited Madame Pomfrey's assistance should anyone be injured, but it was clear that the poor mediwitch was more than overwhelmed. Covered in soot and blood her eyes widened when she saw Draco's motionless body, the massive blade still piercing through him. She motioned to a cot where Harry laid him down and she quickly drew the curtains up around him, setting to work.

To Harry, the world around him seemed to be moving impossibly fast but he felt like he was unable to move; as though he was stuck in some sort of cement that kept him grounded. Those who weren't hurt (or whose injuries were minimal) were rushing about trying to attend to the others that Madame Pomfrey had not gotten to. He saw Neville applying some sort of herbal salve to the burns that one victim had sustained. Mrs. Weasley was using her wand to mend some deep gashes on another victim as Mr. Weasley and Ron were helping a limping young girl to an empty bed. Ginny was especially busy, working in tandem with Luna to see to the worst of the victims. She must have felt Harry's gaze upon her because she looked up from her work suddenly and when she saw him she ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face against his chest.

Due to the fact that he was still experiencing some form of shock, it took Harry a moment before he responded to his former girlfriend's embrace. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him and marveling at how real the world suddenly felt to him. “Thank Merlin you're alright” Ginny said when she pulled away, tears streaking through the black soot that still stained her cheeks. “When I saw Ron holding Hermione I thought for sure you were dead.”

“Hermione…” Harry said weakly, slowly coming back to himself.

“She's stabilized, Madame Pomfrey saw to her first.” She gestured to a be towards the back of the room. “Have you seen Draco?”

If Harry thought it was strange that Ginny called Draco by his first name, or that she was inquiring about him at all he showed no sign. He only grew very pale, his emerald eyes becoming dark with a mixture of emotions. “I stabbed him” he said, and she stepped away from him slowly. For a brief moment she wondered if Harry had gone mad again; if Tom Riddle's soul had somehow escaped the prison Harry wore around his neck and infected him once more. But she knew Harry… and she knew Tom. This was only Harry, and there was a tremendous amount of pain in his expression.

She sees me as a monster now Harry thought to himself as Ginny's features went from confused to horrified. I am a monster. All this blood, this death and destruction… this is my legacy. This is what befalls anyone who dares follow me.

Unable to look at her expression any longer he gestured to the curtained off bed behind him and Ginny ran to find Madame Pomfrey hard at work on the cold boy who now looked like ice. Why Ginny cared so much hardly mattered. All that she knew was that she did not want Draco Malfoy to die. She half expected Madame Pomfrey to yell at her but the mediwitch said nothing as Ginny stepped forward to help. Pomfrey had already removed the blade from his chest and was now trying to heal the massive wound that marred his chest. Ginny removed her wand and helped, augmenting the power of the healing spell.

Outside of the curtain Harry stumbled into motion, heading towards the only place left in the world that felt like home, the only place that could possible heal the pain within him; Hermione. He found her asleep, blood still crusted to the side of her face, her cloak covered in soot. Sitting on the edge of her bed he was suddenly afraid to touch her; as though his touch might cause further pain and death. Finally he moved his hand slowly towards hers, allowing his fingers to glide across the back of her hand and up towards the cuff of her robe's sleeve. When he touched her arm he felt something hard underneath the robe.

“Malfoy insisted” her voice said and Harry's eyes snapped up to her face to see her cinnamon brown gaze fixated on his face. “He had a few extra suits of dragonhide armor. He insisted that Ron, Luna, Ginny and I use them. He said that if you survived you'd be a lot less likely to kill him for lying to you if we all came through it all okay.”

That suit probably saved her life Harry realized, and as he thought of Draco lying just a few beds away, bleeding the last of his life away, he felt a heavy swelling of guilt in him once more. He tried to save the people I care about most in the world and I've killed him anyways… I've killed him. Those three words kept repeating in his head when it suddenly struck him. The Unbreakable Fucking Vow.

He stood suddenly, feeling like he might get sick. Hermione struggled to sit up, alarm clear in her eyes. “Harry what is it?” she asked, but he couldn't hear her. He could only hear the words of the oath, ringing in his ears like a death toll.

I, Harry James Potter, vow on my very life, that I will free Draco Malfoy from this prison, and I will not kill him afterwards.

“I've killed him” Harry croaked, and he fell to his knees then, burying his face in her lap. He felt her fingers running through his hair and could hear her voice frantically speaking to him, but he could not process any of it. He had not meant to stab Draco, but it had been by his hand that Draco Malfoy would die. He had vowed on his life that he would NEVER kill Draco. “If he dies, I die.”

“HARRY JAMES POTTER, what are you talking about??” she sputtered, finally pulling him back to reality as she managed to yank his head up from her lap and look him square in the eyes. He briefly explained it to her- the idiotic wording of the vow, the imperius curse that Damon had put on Draco, the bloody results of their fight. With each word she grew paler and paler and somehow he forgot his own fear about dying and felt the need to reassure her. He tried to put his arms around her but she pushed him away. “It was a MISTAKE Harry! You're not going to die, even if he does.”

He could tell she didn't believe her own words since she was crying as she said them. This time when he embraced her she did not fight it, instead clinging desperately to him as though she could hold him tight enough to prevent his soul from leaving his body. The realization that she needed him was a strong motivator and his spinning world suddenly stopped as he regained control. He laid her back in the bed and kissed her deeply. “Rest” he said firmly. “I'm going to fix this.”

She didn't release his arms from her grasp just yet. She had let him walk to death's door so many times and she knew one day there would be no way to pull him back. Yet this is what they did, and she trusted him in such a way that she could not doubt his words. The words “I'll go with you” lingered on her lips but she wasn't sure where it was she was promising to follow him to. Still, she refused to let him go alone and despite his protests and the dizziness she was experiencing she stood and he put his arm around her to keep her from falling. They walked through the makeshift medical ward and after seeing the blood and wounds of so many she finally pressed her face against Harry, blinding her to it all. His armor has the irony smell of blood and she felt sick. They followed me and I led them into a trap.

When they arrived at Draco's bedside she gasped to see the gruesome wound that Pomfrey and Ginny were still trying to close. His armor and clothing had been stripped away from his chest exposing the gaping hole that Harry had accidently put there. “Unless you're going to help, both of you need to get out” Pomfrey warned, not looking up from her spell work.

“He's already helped enough” Ginny said hastily and Hermione flinched. Of course Ginny did not know the details yet of all that had happened, but could she really think Harry would try to kill Draco?

Harry wasn't sure what he was doing and he reached for the pendent that hung around his neck. Increasingly it had become a habit of his to toy with the object when he was thinking. Despite its macabre nature, something seemed to draw his hand to it unconsciously. Gripping it in his hand he had a resolute image form in his mind; an image of Draco's wound healing. Not even realizing what he was doing he stepped forward, ignoring Ginny's protests. With the orb in one hand he placed his other hand just above the wound and channelled his magic. He heard a gasp but did not look away. There was a bright light glowing from his hand and it grew more and more radiant until everyone else had to look away. The light sunk into Draco's chest, consuming the wound. When it disappeared and Harry removed his hand, the wound was gone, only a slight scar and a black smudge left.

He turned towards the ladies gathered behind him, shocked by what he had just done. Ginny was the first one his gaze met and as she looked at him she suddenly went very pale and fell to the ground in a dead faint. As she fell Harry's hand fell from the necklace and with a quick gesture he used wandless magic to catch her before she hit the floor, levitating her body upwards and looking to Hermione and Madame Pomfrey with confusion in his eyes.

“Move her to another bed” Madame Pomfrey said promptly. He did as commanded and with a quick wave of her wand Madame Pomfrey informed them she had “simply passed out.”

“There's nothing wrong with her save a bit of dehydration and over excitement. She'll be just fine. I have other patients I need to attend to. What you did Mr. Potter… I've never seen… how did you…?”

“I don't know” Harry said simply. It wasn't enough to attribute it to Mental Channeling. The power he had felt flowing through him was greater than anything he had experienced.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy was lucky you did whatever it was you did” she said and then she was off to her next patient. He looked to Hermione, a question burning in his eyes but she had no answers, so she did the only thing she could think to do and took his hand in hers. She led him from the hospital wing, knowing there was nothing more they could currently do. Her head was throbbing and he looked shaky and weak. He did not question her as she wordlessly led him down the dark corridors of Malfoy Manor and into one of its massive lavatories.

Once inside she proceeded to remove his blood stained armor from him, carefully unlatching each piece as he stared off into nothingness. Once the armor was removed some life seemed to flow back into him and he began to reciprocate, helping her out of her own heavy robes and armor until eventually they were both standing in only their undergarments, looking into each others' eyes. Slowly she traced the scars on his chest with the tips of her fingers, remembering how he had healed her scar just through his touch. His scars did not vanish under her touch though and it hardly mattered. These weren't the scars she wanted to heal.

“I'm sorry” she suddenly whispered and she felt tears spring to her eyes with a painful sting. “I got all of those people hurt… I marched them into a trap… I kept secrets from you.”

“Shhh” he said, pulling her into his chest and holding her tightly as her body shook with barely suppressed sobs. “We both kept secrets because we thought what we were doing was for the best. Now we've all paid the price.” He tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes and she saw such an intensity blazing there that it stirred something within her. “Never again” he swore. “No more secrets. We will get that bastard back, and we'll do it together.”

There was something in the way that he said together that made her abandon all restraint and she kissed him with a passionate hunger. He reciprocated, lifting her suddenly onto the sink top so that he was positioned between her legs, her hands gripped her hips tightly as she tangled her hands in his hair. She heard the shower go on and wasn't sure how he had managed to turn it on but didn't quite care. He fumbled to remove the small amount of clothing left between them and then lifted her again, this time into the shower.

As the hot water poured down their bodies it washed away the grime that covered them and they continued to kiss as their hands explored every part of each other that they had never explored before. He moved his hands through her hair and she vaguely noticed that the pain she had felt from her concussion was gone.

Soaking wet they moved from the shower to an adjoining room, still not breaking contact as they hit the soft mattress. As he moved on top of her he did not ask for permission; he didn't need to. He had always been able to tell what she was thinking when it really mattered.

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Ginny Weasley awoke with a start. She remembered where she was, all that had happened and then finally, the last thing she had seen before she had lost consciousness. A cold fear went through her body. Aside from the dim bedside lanterns the hall was quite dark now and it was also much quieter. Feeling her wand still secured in its holster she felt somewhat safer and she rose to her feet, not sure where they were leading her. It was only a moment before she found herself at Draco Malfoy's bedside.

He looked even paler and colder than ever, which was not a surprise given all the blood he lost she mused, and she absently pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. “Weasley?” he asked, his voice thick with confusion.

“I'm just checking in on the patients” she lied, suddenly embarrassed at being caught watching him sleep.

“I'm not dead?” he asked confused.

“How much do you remember?”

“Damon used a really strong imperius on me and I attacked Potter with a sword. I tried to fight it but I couldn't… we struggled and he stabbed me. Well, it was an accident really but still… Saint Potter stabbed me!”

“He also saved you” Ginny said, her voice kind.

“He did?” Draco blinked, his strange silver eyes looking at her with much confusion. In the dim lighting, and tucked under the blankets he looked like a lost little boy. “Why would he… ah of course, the Unbreakable Fucking Vow.”

She didn't bother to press him on what he meant by this because it didn't really matter. Only one thing mattered right now and the thing had cause her to faint. The image was seared into her mind and she shuddered. “After he healed you, he turned to face us. I may have been the only one to see it because I was standing closest, but his eyes…”

“One of them was a different color?” Draco asked and she looked at him with shock. “On the battlefield, when he saw Granger get hurt, he let out this incredible burst of energy. It knocked both me and Damon to the ground. As I was falling, I saw his eyes, but only for a split second. One was the usual green and the other was….”

“Black” Ginny finished. “I know those eyes. They haunt my nightmares every night.”

“Tom Riddle” Draco said, suddenly recalling everything Lucius had put young Ginny Weasley through thanks for Riddle's diary. She shuddered once more and suddenly sat on the foot of his bed, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“How do you know what Riddle's eyes looked like?” Ginny asked in a soft tone.

“I see him sometimes, in my dreams… er, Greyback's dreams.”

“Oh, of course” she said shortly. There was an unbearable silence for a long beat. “What do you think it means?”

“Well, we always doubted Riddle's intentions when we helped Potter transport his soul into that terrible trinket. Seems like he's still got some power over The Boy Who Lived.”

“Will he ever be rid of that maniac?”

“I don't know” Draco mused. “There's a lot I still don't know.” He looked away, gazing into the flame dancing in his bedside lantern. “I made a huge mistake. We walked into Damon's trap. Is Granger…”

“She's fine” Ginny said. “There were some injuries and a few… casualties. It could have been worse though. We were able to retreat.”

“Damon fled” Draco said, his voice sounding small and far away. “He and his Children ran away from the battle and tried to leave me to deal with Potter.”

“Why?” Ginny asked, exasperated. “They had us-- we were no match for their power and numbers.”

“We had something they didn't, something Damon feared.” Draco said, suddenly remembering the look in Damon's eyes when he saw Harry's eyes change. “We had Tom Riddle.”

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The light of dawn crept through the dark drapes, spilling across their unclothed bodies and slowly rousing Hermione from a deep sleep. Her head was rested on Harry's chest and she could hear his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. What a miracle that his heart still beats she thought, her brain foggy as her dream world vanished and reality pressed in on her. There was much damage to deal with and she wasn't quite ready to face it. She wished she could stay in his arms, where she felt safe, where she had always felt safe.

Together. His words form the night before rang in her ears and she remembered his vow that this time there would be no secrets; they would face their enemies together. This gave her some renewed strength and she roused herself from the warmth of his embrace, taking just a moment to watch him sleep. He hadn't slept much in weeks and she felt guilty waking him. She traced the dark stubble on his jawline and trailed down the side of his neck, causing him to shift slightly in his sleep. He's still ticklish she realized with a slight smile. It was a bittersweet realization; it made him seem impossibly young to have seen all he'd seen.

She looked at the scars on his chest once more and noticed a dark smudge that had not come off in the shower. She tried to rub it off but it would not budge. Peculiar she thought, suddenly committed to trying to clean it. He woke before she could get more aggressive, blinking slowly as though he wasn't sure where he was. She was half laying on him, both still undressed and leaving the bed seemed like an impossible proposition given the circumstances. The previous night had been filled with passion and the aggression of years of built up emotions. This time as she kissed him it was soft and he reciprocated with a tender gentleness.

Though their second round of lovemaking was very different from the first time it seemed equally profound. When they were finished she stood quickly, knowing that if she lingered for a moment longer they may very well never leave that bed. As she dressed he watched her, vaguely wondering how he had gotten so lucky; how she had ever fallen in love with him of all people. Not the Boy Who Lived, or He Who Defeated the Dark Lord, but just plain old Harry Potter. The boy who had come into the Hogwarts Express with broken glasses, baggy hand-me-down clothes and not a friend in the world. After he realized how brilliant she was (and even at age 11 it hadn't taken him long), he marveled at the fact that she had chosen him as a friend and that she had stuck by him even when things got messy. And when it came to him, things always got messy.

Now that they were lovers, now that he knew she was in love with him; it was a whole other sort of sensation. He had been with other women but he had never felt the way he did when he was with her. He hadn't even known it was possible.

Finally rousing himself from the bed he also dressed and they did their rounds through Malfoy Manor, checking up on the wounded and checking in with their closest friends. They were surprised to find Draco Malfoy's bed empty and Madame Pomfrey informed them that Mr. Malfoy was sufficiently recovered. They found Ron and Luna in the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was fixing a proper breakfast for her family along with numerous others. In fact, the only ones not gathered in the massive Malfoy Manor kitchen were the injured, Draco and Ginny.

It was a tense moment when they entered the kitchen. This was the first time facing their “soldiers” since the failed attack, and Hermione's guilt welled up once more. Harry's hand found hers, as it always did, and they stood tall before those who had followed them into battle. She was relieved when Harry did the talking. As a boy he never saw himself as a leader, but she had always known that it was in him. Luckily, as a man, he had embraced the role as best as he could.

“We were outwitted yesterday” he said simply, as everyone grew quiet, their eyes fixed on Harry. “Damon was two steps ahead of us and it costed us in both lives and blood. It's a price that I know every one of you was willing to pay, and I thank you for that.”

“You don't have to-” Neville Longbottom started, but Harry held up a hand to silence him.

“I do have to thank you. The whole wizarding world will owe you their thanks when this is finally finished, but until that point, the only thanks I can offer is my own.” He gazed around the room, looking upon the faces of his allies and friends. He saw the Weasleys; the closest thing he'd ever known to a real family. He saw Luna Lovegood, whose dreamy expression was now gone and replaced by a look of intense loyalty. Several of his most trusted friends from the Auror department were there as well, each one looking on with great respect for their leader. All of this trust led him to think about those faces that were missing; Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred… the list was too long. Inevitably, some of those who looked upon him now would also die but that was something he would have to try not to fixate on at this moment. They needed him to be strong.

“Mistakes were made in our attempt to eliminate Damon. It isn't going to happen again. We will all keep training and together we will all get stronger and better. The next time you are asked to put your life at risk, it will be with a full attack plan behind us. This is a different sort of war than the one we fought against Voldemort. We know far less about this enemy and his time to prepare for such a fight has far exceeded anything in recorded history. But perhaps most difficult is the fact that we don't know who our friends or enemies are. Anyone could secretly be supporting him, and that means every risk you take, every sacrifice you make, must be done in secret. It is possible that when this all ends, nobody will ever know what we've done to make the wizarding world a safer place. At least, nobody except the people in this room today. We are all each other has and if we stick together I think- no, I know- that we will stop this menace.”

There were grim nods of agreement from around the room, but most importantly a look of determination in their eyes. Some of them were angry now; angry at Damon for friends lost and blood spilled. Good he thought. Channel that anger. We will bring it all crashing down on Damon's head.

He nodded to Ron and Luna, a gesture that they instantly knew to mean that he wanted a private word with them. The others would be heading back to their respective jobs soon, each pretending as though nothing had happened. Those who had died would be filed as “missing” and any loved ones who did not know about their heroics would be lead to a tormented search for a body they wouldn't find for some time. It was all more than grim; it was nearly unconscionable. Yet it had to be done.

He took a deep breath and headed for the library, Hermione's hand still in his. When they arrived, they discovered Draco and Ginny sitting by the fire, each quietly reading a book. It was a rather domestic scene, and quite puzzling.

“Bloody hell Ginny, what are you doing in here with HIM?” Ron asked as soon as he spotted the two of them. Harry quietly closed the door and cast a silencing charm. He did not need any personal drama being overheard by those who were supposed to be placing their trust in the “Golden Trio” et al. “Mum was worried sick when you weren't in your hospital bed and meanwhile you're in here with… with HIM… READING?”

He said “reading” like it was a dirty word and Harry nearly laughed in spite of himself. Draco did in fact smirk, which only fueled Ron further and once more Harry had to put himself between the two. “Well Weasley, when it comes to women you may have heard that I am very well known for my skills in reading.” This time Harry was barely able to stop Ron and it was Ginny who intervened, pointing a finger at her older brother and using a wandless hex to knock Ron back a few paces.

“Impressive” Harry muttered before he could stop himself. Ginny gave him an appreciative smile and then re-focused her energy on her brother, her eyes narrowing with that famous look of Weasley rage.

“Ronald, I am entitled to read with whomever I choose. I'm an adult now in case you haven't noticed. So save your attitude for someone who has the time. We're trying to figure out what's wrong with Harry.”

“What's wrong with me?” Harry asked, puzzled. “I wasn't aware anything was wrong with me. Malfoy is the one who got stabbed through the chest yesterday, and you fainted. If anyone should be worried about anyone it's the two of you.”

“Yes indeed” Ron growled. “I for one am very worried about what the two of you were doing in here alone.” Harry gestured for Ron to shut up and for once he did as he was bid, simply dropping into a nearby armchair and crossing his arms across his chest, a scowl dominating his features.

“Harry I fainted because…” Ginny started tenuously and then looked to Hermione, a shade of concern in her light brown eyes. “I fainted because of what I saw in your eyes. Or, in your eye to be specific. I will never forget that gaze. It belonged to Tom Riddle.

“That's not possible” Harry blustered, hoping his adamant refusal of the truth would protect himself and everyone around him from it. “We removed his soul…”

“Using a spell he himself suggested” Draco noted. “I saw it as well, on the battlefield.”

Harry's hand automatically moved to the pendant around his neck and Hermione's reaction was instant. “We need to get rid of that necklace” she said. “It can't be any good for you to be carrying it around…”

“No!” Harry and Draco said simultaneously, giving each other an odd look. Draco continued. “The only reason Damon fled during the battle yesterday is because of that pendant. It's connecting Potter to Riddle still, and when Damon saw that I could tell he was afraid.”

“Malfoy is right” Harry said slowly. “Damon is afraid of only one thing; Tom Riddle. Riddle burned down The Cradle when he was barely out of Hogwarts. He always had great powers but he was never able to control them; his rage always got in the way. But now that I have a part of him, maybe I can control it…”

“Riddle has been enhancing your powers” Hermione realized. “From the very beginning; the uncontrollable wandless magic… it was all because of Riddle. It makes sense. Mental Channeling is powered by one's consciousness and you had two souls dwelling within you… you are twice as powerful.”

“That's why you've been experiencing wandless magic too Malfoy” Harry realized, blinking hard. “You have Fenrir Greyback's consciousness… or at least a part of it, within you. It's a blessing in disguise really.”

“How do you figure?” Hermione asked, baffled. “You thought you were finally done with Riddle, that you were free of him, but it's clear that this was some part of his plan all along.”

“I don't know about that” Harry shrugged. “All I know is that right now he's making me more powerful and that is what saved us all yesterday.”

“There is such a thing as too much power Harry” she admonished, her eyes looking wary of what he had just said to her. “You of all people should know how fully power can corrupt. Remember the Elder Wand?”

“Of course I remember” he responded hastily. “But what other choice do we have? If I can control Riddle…”

“And what if he controls YOU instead? He was very close last time. This matter of magic and the soul are his forte, not ours. Don't you think it's possible that you're just falling into another one of his traps?”

“Do we have any other choice?” he asked her sharply, and suddenly all the others in the room had the distinct impression that they had become audience to an awkward lovers' quarrel.

“You don't even know how you did it those other times! You can't possibly control it…”

“I'll figure it out” he said gruffly. He was thinking about all those expecting faces he had just spoken too, and while he saw the logic in her words he couldn't be bothered to be stopped by them. They needed a hero, and if that meant using Riddle to supplement his power he would damned well figure it out. He could tell she didn't believe him and he felt suddenly stung by her distrust in him. “I'll figure it out, with or without you all.”

He turned quickly, exiting the library and leaving the rest of them in the wake of his sudden hostile mood. So much for the whole “together” speech she thought angrily. She very nearly followed him out of the room, but it was Luna who stopped her with a gentle gesture. “He probably just has some snarling vorax in his head right now.”

Hermione didn't know what a snarling vorax was (well, she did know it was not a real thing), but somehow she knew Luna was right. Harry had a lot of weight on his shoulders and a walk would clear his mind. She just hoped she could convince him not to involve Riddle. It could not lead to anything good.

“Well” Draco said after a beat, calling all of their attention back to the awkward dynamic of the room. “Ginny and I were trying to determine how Riddle could possibly be effecting Potter at this point in time if you'd like to join us on our likely useless research quest.”

Ginny noticed immediately that Draco had called her by her first name instead of the usual “Weasley” and she blushed for some reason. Ron seemed to notice too and the tips of his ears burned red but he refrained from a juvenile reaction, instead bringing up a rather wise point. “The horocruxes were able to affect us, even just when I had that damned thing around my neck I could feel its darkness dragging me down.”

“When I was exposed to Riddle's diary it basically possessed me” Ginny agreed. “Could the pendant be doing something similar to Harry?”

“It would make sense” Hermione conceded. “This is more than just a sliver of his soul too… it's the whole thing trapped in that little orb. Maybe that's what Riddle was hoping for when he suggested the process of removing himself from Harry's mind. He knew that Harry had learned to control him in there, but outside of him… outside of Harry's body, he may gain some influence, just like the horocruxes did.”

“We need to get that thing away from him” Ginny said with a shudder.

“No, we don't” Draco said, slamming the book in front of him closed loudly. “As we both said before, it's the only real weapon we have against Damon right now. Truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised if the old lunatic goes into hiding until Potter dies rather than face a Riddle/ Potter hybrid.”

“What a ridiculous thing to call it” Ginny scoffed, but Draco ignored her.

“Riddle may still be trying to use Potter, but Potter is going to need to use Riddle right back. It's the only way we'll end this thing.”

“You'd like that wouldn't you Malfoy?” Ron barked, cutting in before Hermione could. “Harry's mental stability has already been on the rocks for ages now, and you would like us to push it further and take this sort of risk? I know Harry means nothing to you but he's my best mate. Your opinion counts for nothing.”

Draco was surprised by how the words stung. Of course Potter had meant nothing to him before. But now? Now there was something almost akin to friendship. Or so he thought. It was a feeling he had never really known before. He had come to gain some respect for Potter and he thought that maybe Potter had some respect for him as well. And they had been through things together now. He had stood at Potter's side when they faced Damon, and had been prepared to die fighting alongside him. Did that count for nothing?

He brushed his feelings aside, annoyed by the turmoil they caused within him and simply glared at Ron. “You're right Weasley, I don't care about what happens to Potter because I'm a little more concerned about what will happen to the rest of the bloody world if we have nothing to use against Damon. Dumbledore used Potter as his sacrificial lamb for years, why shouldn't we do the same now?”

The words had barely finished leaving his mouth before he was slapped so far that he felt the world flash around him. He reeled for a moment before realizing who had hit him; she had moved so quickly he barely perceived it. Damn, I forgot how hard Granger can hit.

“Uncalled for” he said, trying to keep his tone flat and unaffected. Clearly he was the only one who did think it was uncalled for though, because soon they were all leaving the room, Ginny and Hermione half dragging Ron out as he spat a bunch of indiscernible curses in Draco's direction. To his surprise, only Luna Lovegood remained.

“You need to stop pushing everyone away Draco Malfoy” she said sadly once they were alone in the vast library.

“What would you know about it Loony Lovegood?” he said, feeling the venom of his youth well up in him like an uncontrollable bile. Push it away he urged himself. Control it. He couldn't quite manage it though. He was feeling things he had not allowed himself to feel in a long time and it was breaking everything down that he had worked so hard for. It made him feel vulnerable and he hated that feeling, he despised it with every part of him.

Luna was not phased by his hostility however, and she continued on with what she had been saying before his rude outburst. “You think that nobody can see your sadness, but I can. I know what it's like to be an outsider.”

“I'm from one of THE most prestigious families in wizarding history, I was an exceptional student at Hogwarts, and I was the Slytherin seeker; I have never been an outsider like you.”

“No, not exactly like me, that's true. You never had friends who loved you; I did. You never had a cause you felt a part of; I did. People laughed at me but they despised you. You are more than an outsider than I've ever been.”

“I don't need your pity” he snapped.

“I don't pity you Draco. I am just offering you some friendly advice. Believe it or not, you do have some friends.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione found Harry sitting in the overgrown garden of Malfoy Manor. This was the exact place where I finally accepted my true feelings for him she realized as she sat beside him on the marble bench where he was brooding. He didn't make any move to get away from her, and she was glad for that.

“I'm sorry” they said at the same time and they both laughed a little, the tension dissolving from the air around them. He put his arm around her and she leaned against him, feeling at home in his embrace.

“I acted like a jerk in there” he started after a peaceful moment passed. “I don't know why I got that way…”

“It's this” she said, gesturing to the pendant hanging around his neck. He self-consciously stuffed it down the front of his shirt, hiding it from sight. “Just like the horocruxes; it has a bad effect on you. But I'm afraid this might be even worse. Your life and his have been so closely entangled for so long.”

“I can't get rid of it” he said softly.

“I know” she conceded, biting her lip in a worried manner. “It's not that I don't trust you to control this Harry, it's just that I'm scared. I'm scared of what it might do to you.”

“As am I” he admitted. “I don't deserve you. I never have.”

“Don't say that” she admonished with an internal sigh of exasperation. The Dursleys had certainly done a number on him when it came to his ability to accept the love of others. She felt that she might spend her entire life trying to convince him that he was worth it-- all of it. At least if I do spend my whole life trying to convince him, that will mean we both get to live a full life.

“You deserve far more than you've ever allowed yourself to accept.” She could see in his eyes that he didn't believe her but he didn't try to argue further so she allowed herself to accept his silence for the time being. His arm still around his shoulder, she pressed against his chest she could hear the steady beating of his heart and it settled her anxiety. And then suddenly, he took in a sharp breath.

“What's wrong?” she asked, moving away from him to see that his face had gone entirely pale. He grabbed at his chest, rubbing it as though something there pained him. “Is it the pendant?” She scrambled to see what was causing him pain, kneeling in front of him as she lifted his shirt to expose his bare chest. And what she saw there knocked the wind out her. What had just been a stubborn black smudge that morning was now a dark black stain beneath his skin, a blotch the size of his fist. And it was growing.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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19. Chapter 19: Poison

Author's Note: Sincere apologies for the lapse in time! The summer has been far too busy and seems to be flying by. Nevertheless, here's a particularly angsty chapter for you, with some action to follow in chapters to come. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 19: Poison

Once Luna had departed, Draco was left to brood in the study. Looney Lovegood doesn't know what she's talking about he told himself, trying to assuage the uncertainty that was building up inside of him. I don't have any friends and I don't need any friends. Those sort of emotions just cloud judgment. For some reason he thought of Ginny and the feeling that had surged through him from her slight kiss. He had certainly felt something, and that something allowed him to perform wandless magic for a moment.

Perhaps Potter was right. I need to stop suppressing my emotions. He was pacing now and suddenly realized with a jolt that he was standing on the exact spot where his parents had been murdered. A chill ran through him and he decisively determined that emotions were not what was needed. Feeling anything would hurt too much, and that hurt would weaken him. I just need to-

But he never finished determining what he needed to do because just then a crippling pain ripped through his chest and he fell to his knees. It felt like he was having a heart attack and it was impossible to breathe or make a sound as he felt the world spin and slide around him. I'm going to die on the exact same spot where my parents died he thought hazily, landing face first on the cold marble floor, barely able to process its icy embrace as he managed to force a half breath into his lungs, fighting past the ripping pain it caused.

Somewhere in the room a door opened but it sounded very far off. He heard a voice and it sounded like Ginny Weasley yelling at him. She's mad at you because you are a detestable, loathsome creature he deduced, and somehow, despite the excruciating suffering he was in, that thought still managed to cause him further pain.

Ginny Weasley had decided she was going to tell Draco Malfoy off for good this time. It was one thing to truly be a miserable git, but she did not think he was. He was a cold boy, a boy scared of feeling anything and something about that stirred a fire inside her that was half fury and half passion. She didn't care what jests he'd make about her family; she would make him listen for once. Thus, as she came bursting into the study, choice words were flowing freely from her lips.

“Draco Malfoy, before you say another despicable word, let me tell you something. You can act like a prat all you want, but I know…” she stopped suddenly when she realized he was gone and she was yelling into an empty room. She felt rather daft and embarrassed and was about to leave when she heard a shuffling noise from behind one of the sofas. She drew her wand (out of habit) and slowly walked forward to investigate. It was there that she found a very pale Draco Malfoy, writhing on the floor and clutching his chest.

Panicked, she kneeled beside him, beseeching him with questions about what was wrong and what had happened. She quickly realized that he could hardly breathe, and without a second thought she tore his button up shirt open, moving his hand away from the spot where he was clutching in pain. She could easily recall that this was the same exact spot that the sword had pierced him just the day before.

When his hand was removed, what was revealed was a black stain under his skin, like a bruise only it seemed to curl out in little tendrils like jet-black ink that was traveling through his blood. The mark was roughly the size of her fist but to her horror, it was spreading as she watched. It was growing.

He looked at her in agony and she realized that it was causing such great pain that he could hardly breathe. “It'll be okay, I'm going to get help” she promised, not sure what else to do or say. She touched his face and realized he was burning up; small beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face and dampening his platinum blonde hair. She moved to get help, but he grabbed her wrist suddenly, in the desperate fashion of a drowning man. She gazed into his silver-grey eyes and he seemed to be trying to communicate something but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a moan of pain.

Unable to leave him she did the only other thing she could think of; she screamed for help. It was only seconds before Ron was at her side but to her it felt like an eternity. Despite Ron's animosity towards Draco Malfoy, he paled at the sight of the blonde-haired man writhing on the floor. Luckily he was able to keep more of a level head than his sister, and he didn't even need to reach for his wand to levitate Draco's body from the floor. “We need to bring him to Madame Pomfrey; she's still here healing some of the wounded from yesterday.”

They paced the corridors of Malfoy Manor quickly, Ron holding his hand out flat in front of him, channeling his magic to transport Draco, whose body had gone limp. Ginny would have thought he was dead if it weren't for the signs of shallow breathing that he was displaying. As they took the grand staircase up to the wing that was serving as a medical ward, they nearly bumped into a hysterical Hermione who was using her wand to levitate Harry in a similar manner.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Ron asked, lacking better words to convey his confusion. Ginny gave him a little push, urging him to keep moving as he spoke.

“I don't know” Hermione responded, and Ginny noted that the older girl was doing a remarkable job of keeping the tears that had pooled in her brown eyes from spilling over. “One minute he was fine, and the next it was like he couldn't breathe.”

“Draco too. Did it happen at the exact same moment?” Ginny asked, but it was more of a hypothetical question as there was no way of knowing for certain. Nonetheless, the evidence pointed to an obvious and emphatic yes. The two events were certainly related.

Laid out on side by side hospital beds, Madame Pomfrey immediately began by ripping their shirts away, leaving them both bare-chested and exposing the still growing black stain that had appeared on each of them. The pattern was the same as it was now traveling down the bloodstream of each man's upper arm, outlining the major vein on the inside of the bicep.

“Poison” Madame Pomfrey deduced after a few wordless moments had passed. “When Mr. Malfoy was stabbed in battle yesterday, the blade must have been poisoned.”

“But he was stabbed by his own blade” Hermione interjected. “Surely he would have mentioned if he's been yielding a poisoned blade?!”

“Someone else must have poisoned it during the course of battle” Ginny noted, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what had happened before they ran out of time. “There are poisoning spells right?”

“There are dozens, possibly hundreds if you consider those lost to ancient magic….” Hermione swallowed hard, absently pushing a bead of sweat from her brow. “There are ancient spells that Damon would know about. Damon must have used some sort of spell to poison the blade, hoping that when Malfoy was under imperius he would at least knick Harry and kill him.”

“But Harry didn't get knicked did he?” Ron sputtered, speaking for the first time. “It was Malfoy who got stabbed.”

“The Unbreakable Fucking Vow” Hermione swore, surprising everyone around her. “They made an unbreakable vow when they were locked up at the Auror Headquarters, and it wasn't just any vow, it was sealed by blood. If Harry breaks his promise to Malfoy, he suffers the same fate.”

“What promise?” Ron asked.

“Harry vowed that he wouldn't kill Malfoy.”

“That's a bloody stupid vow! Seems like it might be hard to keep…”

So it has been Hermione agreed, trying to slow her mind from spinning by focusing on the logical facts before her. It was a stupid vow, but he hadn't meant it to be, it was all in the wording. And it didn't matter now; all that mattered was slowing the spread of the poison.

“I can slow this down and buy you all some time to try and figure out a way to stop it” Madame Pomfrey announced, as though reading Hermione's mind. That was all Hermione needed to hear and she moved quickly to Harry's side noting how hot his hand felt as she took it in hers. “I'll find a way to fix this… I always do” she whispered into his ear, and pushing any thoughts of fear and self-doubt away she headed to the same place she always headed; the library.

Ginny had watched this momentary embrace between the two, and for a split second she wanted to reach out and touch Draco as well; to soothe him somehow. But is it really him who needs the soothing, or is it me? she wondered as she followed Hermione out the door, giving Draco one final look over her shoulder. It was doubtful he could even hear or feel anything at this moment, and even if he could, what solace would he find in a silly girl with a crush?

That's all it is she realized, feeling a pain in her gut. I have a crush on him, and for what reason? He's been nothing but nasty all my life and his family has caused my all kinds of problems. Maybe it's just that I have a thing for bad boys, or maybe I just always want what I can't have. That last realization hit her hard because she knew it was the truth. She had wanted Harry all those years because he was someone unattainable, not just because of his fame but because deep down, she had known for years that his heart always belonged to someone else. And now I have a crush on one of my family's greatest enemies, all because it makes it more challenging.

It was all really nauseating.

They were in the library then and Hermione was taking command like a general. “We need to find every book on poisoning spells, the older the better. Keep in mind that poisoning spells can only poison objects, not people or animals, so you can stray away from anything that…”

“What about a bezoar?” Ron suddenly asked, stopping Hermione mid-sentence. “Harry stuffed one down my throat that time…”

“Ron, you're brilliant!” Hermione exclaimed, sounding a mixture of surprised and ecstatic. “It doesn't always work, but it's definitely worth a shot. I was so fixated on the symptoms that a possibly simple solution totally slipped my mind!”

“They are sort of rare though aren't they?” Ron asked slowly.

“I'm sure Draco has one or two in his potions dungeon” Ginny responded. “I think I could find one, I was down there when he…”

“When he what? What were you doing down there?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“No time!” Ginny responded hurriedly, sprinting out of the library, Hermione hot on her heels. They reached the portrait that lead down to the dungeon, and pulled the black velvet cloth away that hid the entrance. The painting revealed beneath was simply a rectangle of all black. “How was he opening this before? There isn't even a person in this painting!”

“Let me guess, `only someone with Malfoy blood can gain access'” Ron said, imitating a surprisingly good Draco drawl.

“Well, that's rather inconvenient given that he's incapacitated and his parents are dea-- deceased” Ginny corrected herself, trying not to sound insensitive.

“Step back” was all Hermione said, and there was a wild and intense look in her eyes that was so frightening that neither of them argued. She had deduced that whoever had been in the painting was either off visiting other fellow portraits, or would only reveal themselves to a Malfoy. But it didn't matter at this point. She knew what she needed to do and raising her hand forward she focused every emotion, every fear and every hope she was feeling into one point and made a forward pushing motion.

The portrait and the wall behind it were blown apart with such force that the hallways were instantly flooded with a cloud of dust. Ginny's eyes watered as she shielded her face against the clouds of debris, and when she finally found Ron he was coughing. “Bloody hell! That was one strong bit of wandless magic Hermione-” he started, but she was already gone, headed down the dungeon stairs. Ron and Ginny sprinted after her.

Mental Channeling is amplified by emotion. It only makes sense that at a time like this she would show her real potential. Ginny realized as she ran down the seemingly endless spiral of stone steps. It had always been said that Hermione Granger was an exceptionally bright witch, but few knew that she was also exceptionally powerful. A real force to be reckoned with Ginny mused as she felt the telltale sign of decreasing elevation as the temperature dropped. Especially when it's about keeping Harry safe.

This final thought moved her in a strange fashion. To love someone that way… so completely, so deeply, that their safety came before your own wellness, your own life… that was something she had never know. Not even for Harry. Sure, she had experienced sleepless nights worrying about him when he was on the horocrux hunt. After the war she had even tried to be the person who healed his wounds, but they were too deep and she became too exhausted by it all. But for Hermione, healing Harry, helping Harry, saving Harry; it was part of her very being. She had never been able to make herself opt out of it, no matter how hard things became. She wouldn't even know how to “let it go”, even if she tried. Not that the thought would ever occur to her.

It was in that moment that she felt a flicker of jealousy; not towards Harry and Hermione's relationship, but towards that fact that she may never feel anything of that magnitude in all her life.

“Where do you think he'd keep them?” Hermione's voice asked, and it rippled through Ginny's reverie of self-pity. She realized with a bit of embarrassment that this was not the first time Hermione had asked this pointed question while gazing directly at her.

“Oh, well I noticed that he had a rather methodical system of organizing his ingredients in this closet…” she opened a nearly concealed door to reveal a potions supply that would have made Snape drool. Draco had organized each item by similar classes of use. Ginny was not as much of a whizz at potions as Draco, but she had not gotten bad marks either. She was quickly able to figure out his system and find where he kept the bezoars, which, despite being rare, he had several jars of.

Ginny tossed two to Ron who caught them with a grimace (after all, it was from the stomach of a goat). Without another word Hermione was back on the march, the Weasley siblings delegated to following once more. When they reached the medical wing, Madame Pomfrey had clearly slowed the spreading of the poison but it was still steadily spreading through both men. Ron gave the bezoars to Pomfrey with an awkward look of uncertainty and in a rather inelegant expression of equal lack of surety, she jammed the bezoar first down Draco Malfoy's throat and then Harry Potter's.

There were several rather horrific moments of choking and gagging sounds from both of them, and as they struggled everyone around them subconsciously held their breath. Those who were healthy enough to get up from their hospital beds had done so, and they stood there on baited breath as well. Finally, the choking subsided and everyone let out a collective breath of relief as the dark tendrils beneath their skin retracted until all that was left were two identical black jagged lines in the exact spot where Draco had been stabbed.

“It worked Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders in one of her infamous hugs. “I could kiss you…”

“Don't even think about it” groaned a voice and she turned to see Harry looking at her with a crooked grin. Ron gave a false sound of disappointment, but he was smiling from ear to ear to see that his best mate would live another day.

“Off with the lot of you!” Madame Pomfrey half shouted over all the sudden noise. “They may not be out of the woods yet and I need to conduct a thorough investigation, and for that I need quiet and privacy.” Hermione looked to Harry with clear reluctance in her eyes, but he nodded at her slightly and she knew that to mean that it would all be okay, just as she was always able to read his subtle cues.

When the hospital wing was mostly cleared out, an almost deathly silence fell over it, and Harry somehow felt in his heart that despite the reassuring look he had given Hermione, all was not okay and it would not be okay ever again.

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The first thing that struck Luna Lovegood as odd was the fact that the lion was standing in the middle of a snow-covered field. “Lions don't live in snow” she mused to herself as she walked closer to get a better look. As she drew nearer, she realized that the lion was wounded in the chest, and his great mane was coated in blood.

The second odd thing she noticed was that the blood was not red, but black.

The lion stood alone in the field, the cold wind swirling around him. He did not seem to notice her approach, nor did he seem to be bothered by the wound on his chest. He simply stood, staring into the nothingness before him, his green eyes watching the horizon for something…

Luna awoke with a start, a pounding headache creeping up behind her eyes in a way that nearly blinded her. It was a familiar headache, the same one she got when she tried Mental Channeling. She had fallen asleep a bit early, but now it was very dark and when she left her bedroom she was immersed in a cold, dark silence. She rarely felt afraid, focusing her energy instead on an optimistic outlook. This had prevented her from going insane when she had been imprisoned in these very same walls, and it had also given her strength when she faced battle. She wasn't courageous like Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny; she just always found a light when there was darkness and that kept her going.

However, right now, in the empty black corridor of Malfoy Manor, she felt very much afraid. Was it because of the dream? she wondered. The dream had somehow left her with a feeling of dread, like something very bad was ahead of them all.

Not even realizing where her feet were taking her she wound up in the Manor's massive kitchen. It wasn't much brighter there, except for the dull light of a barely burning fire from the hearth. Its heat drew her near and as she approached there was a sudden movement and she shrieked, half jumping out of her skin.

“Merlin Luna, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!” Ginny stood up quickly from the tall backed chair in which she had been sitting. She had been unable to sleep, pondering her strange feelings towards Draco Malfoy and dealing with all the guilt that accompanied those feelings.

“It's quite alright Ginevra, I am just a tad bit jumpy” Luna replied, claiming the empty chair next to Ginny.

“You don't look so great… you're rather pale I mean. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not exactly I had the strangest dream…”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ginny offered.

“No, not right now. I have the worst headache still. Thank-you for the offer though.”

“Anytime” Ginny responded.

“You've always been a sweet person” Luna observed out of the blue.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in a look of skepticism. Her famous bat bogey hexes had long ago led her brothers to label her as a terror. Her mother had recently begun admonishing her for being crass and negative. And then there were a chain of boyfriends who would certainly say she was more sarcastic than she was sweet. Finally, there was that matter which was keeping her awake; the selfishness of her nature. Always wanting what I can't have.

Luna seemed to read Ginny's mind. “Growing up in a family of boys you've learned to hide the fact that you're sweet. But you are… and so is Ronald.”

“Ron?” Ginny scoffed. “Now I know that you're mad. When we were kids Ron was always a hot head and then after the war he's dedicated his efforts to sleeping with every big chested, empty-headed witch he can find. Sure, he has many great qualities- he's loyal, he's brave, and he cares deeply for his family and friends. But sweet?”

“He's sweet to me” Luna explained, and that surprised Ginny further. She likes him… and maybe he likes her too? It was surprising because Luna wasn't his usual sort of girl. Ever since things had ended between Ron and Hermione, Ron had seemed to seek out her opposite- girls without a lot of brainpower and without a lot of personal ambition. Luna had both intelligence and ambition. She was also pretty, but not in the way Ron was normally attracted to. And then there was a matter of Luna's nature; her dreamlike way of talking and her intense optimism.

She would be good for Ron Ginny realized. But would Ron be good for her? It was a rotten thing to think about one's own brother, especially since she truly did love Ron and had a very close relationship with him. But between his failure with Hermione and his long list of scarlet women he didn't have a great track record for relationships. Then again, who am I to judge?

This led to a long session of brooding in silence, Ginny thinking about a cold boy and Luna thinking about a cold lion.

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He had asked her to lie. Less than 24 hours after he had sworn to Hermione that there would be no more secrets, he had asked Madame Pomfrey to lie on his behalf. It wasn't a big lie, nor was it one he intended to keep for long, but nonetheless he had asked her to lie.

Don't tell them just yet he had begged. Tell them that you're still running tests and will know by morning.

He just needed time. Time to swallow this pill that life had given him. Time to accept, once more, that he was not long for this world-- that soon, he would die. How soon was difficult to say. Pomfrey estimated that a potion could be synthesized from the bezoar that would hold off the effects of the poison in Draco and Harry's systems. But it wouldn't last forever. Slowly, that black stain under his skin would spread like an infection running through his veins. And one day- maybe next week, maybe next year- he would die.

It isn't fair he thought for the thousandth time, uncaring of how much he sounded like a petulant child in his own mind. I finally had a chance, a chance to be happy. A chance to grow old with her. Growing old with her was all he'd ever really wanted, and now that he realized it, now that he'd fully immersed himself in the hope that they could have all that-- it was being ripped away.

He needed to think, but also needed to prepare. Prepare to see her face when he told her the truth; that this would never go away. Of course, she wouldn't accept it. She had never been one to accept fate. She would fight the odds until the bitter end. That was one of the many things he loved about her.

He remembered what she had said to him from between prison bars. They don't know what's happening Harry, but I will figure it out, I always do right? Right.

It gave him a trickle of hope, but he tried to quickly suffocate it. They DID know what was happening to him this time. Or to be more specific, Madame Pomfrey had already consulted with every top expert in the fields of potions, charms and poison in general. They all said the same thing; it was a very old spell, the sort of spell for which there was no counter spell, for which no antidote could cure.

I'm going to die he reminded himself and once more he saw her face and the look she would give him when he told her. First fear and sadness and then that fierce determination. That fire behind her eyes that he had drawn strength from since they were children. That look she got whether on the battlefield or behind a dusty old book. She would see it as a challenge, one she must solve.

But she won't be able to solve it… and she'll never stop blaming herself.

He wanted to spare her all that pain, but there was no way to do that. Keeping secrets had almost gotten her killed just days before, and he had sworn he would not do it again. Not that he could hide this even if he wanted to. Madame Pomfrey had told him that slowly the black poison would spread through his veins until it killed him. He would have to physically watch as it infected his body and took his life. The potion would slow things, but in the end he was on borrowed time.

I need more time he thought as he stared up at the shadowy vaulted ceiling above his hospital cot. He could push down the anger and sorrow that came when he thought of dying. But he could not surpass the fear of knowing that he would be leaving his friends alone to face Damon and his children. As had become his habit, he reached to the pendant around his neck and somehow felt stronger. I have to take out Damon, if it's the last thing I do before I die.

But he needed a plan, and fast. There was one idea that had brewing in his mind for some time, a thought that had not arisen before… before I thought I knew I was going to die. He had never been one to beg favors, and thus it had never popped into his mind. But now…

“I'm sorry” said a voice, breaking his reverie.

“It's not your fault Draco” Harry sighed, turning his head in the darkness to see the blonde Slytherin lying in the next cot over, his face barely visible against the pale lantern light. After Pomfrey had delivered the bad news, the two had not said a word, both drowning in their thoughts.

Draco realized that it was the first time Harry had referred to him by his first name, and that made him feel oddly guilty. Like it was an honor he had not earned. Is redemption possible? “It is my fault though, in a way. I thought I was being clever by keeping my dealings with Damon a secret. I thought I was the master of the chessboard, but Damon has always been one step ahead. I could have gotten everyone killed… but instead I got you killed.”

“YOU didn't do this. It was a rotten series of events. The Unbreakable Fucking Oath, the blood bond, the poison… random bad luck and a bit of good planning on Damon's part is all it comes down to.”

“I thought I could…” Draco didn't finish the sentence. What was it exactly that I was thinking? That my cleverness would save the day? That I would be the hero and all of my sins would be absolved? A long silence lapsed once more and finally Draco found the only words worth saying. “Everything I've ever touched turns to ash. You gave me a chance, a chance to seek vengeance for my parents, but also a chance for redemption. I don't know if it's because you're crazy or stupid, or both… but you gave me a chance, in spite of everything I've ever done, in spite of everything I once was.”

Have some remorse Tom Harry thought to himself, once more picturing that shriveled thing that was Voldemort's soul. He took a long breath and responded to Draco's admission. “At first I didn't have a choice but to work with you. But then I saw something in you; I saw remorse. I've made mistakes, I've gotten people killed. And those mistakes…. they've hung over me like a dark shadow ever since the war. But remorse is what kept me going, it's what reminded me that I was human, that I was still good… or at least, that some part of me was still good. When I saw that remorse, I realized that some part of you was still good as well.”

Draco had never been called “good” in all his life and he wasn't sure how he felt trying it on. What he did know was that Potter had seen something in him that nobody had ever bothered to see before, and for the first time Draco had to admit to himself that it meant something to him. He had to admit that he wanted Potter to respect him, no more than that, he wanted Potter to like him. Long ago he had tried to stop caring about what people thought of him, what they felt about him. Yet here it was, this nagging feeling that there was one person in the universe who had given him a second chance, and now he had let that person down.

“Potter… I mean Harry… I am sorry, even if it isn't my fault, even if fate is just some cruel twisted bitch with a lousy sense of humor. I'm sorry for… for everything.”

It wasn't the most eloquent speech in Draco's history sharp-tongued witticisms and scathing comebacks. Emotion was not something he was good at, but Harry recognized the intention. He wasn't sure if Draco was apologizing for things that went back to day one at Hogwarts, or if he was apologizing for inadvertently pulling Harry down with him to their deaths, but it hardly mattered. He had shown some remorse, and hopefully, wherever Draco Malfoy was headed after death, there would be some redemption for him.

Harry also sensed something else something deeper; Draco Malfoy was afraid to die. Harry remembered the words he had said to Draco once, at the Quidditch Pitch; I died once, it wasn't so bad. But that seemed like an eternity now; before he felt he had something, or rather someone to live for. And thus Harry could say nothing to assuage Draco's fears, because they were his own as well.

“I need to tell her” Harry said, and Draco didn't need to ask who he needed to tell and what about. Harry rose from the cot and Draco was alone then, once more suffocated by the silence. He wondered what it would be like, to have someone to tell about the fact that you were dying. In some ways it would be comforting to know that someone would care, that someone would cry and bring flowers to your grave. In other ways, he imagined that in that moment you might feel the pain you were causing someone you loved; you might blame yourself for dying, as though you had a choice in the matter.

Despite everything else happening, he felt an old familiar burn of envy creep into his heart. All those years he had watched Potter be lifted on the shoulders of friends when he won a Quidditch match, or Potter walking the hallways flanked by his two best friends, or Potter being followed by armies into sure death; all those years envy had burned deep in Draco's heart. He could call Harry Potter a weak, foolish, old man's pawn but in the end it would be Harry Potter who the world would mourn. Not a single eye would tear up for Draco Malfoy.

And there in the dark, Draco Malfoy accepted this as the punishment he deserved.

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When Harry entered the room, Hermione was asleep. It was clear she had not intended to fall asleep, as she was still fully clothed, laying on top of the blankets, an open book laying beside her. He carefully picked the book up and looked at the title. “The Secrets of Soul Binding” it was called, and he knew she had already read it half a dozen times, trying to glean if there was anything else of importance to deciphering the complexities of Harry's condition. His hand brushed against the pendant around his neck for the hundredth time that day, but this time he tucked it under his shirt, out of sight.

She's never going to stop trying to save me he realized as he laid down next to her, watching her sleep for a moment. She was truly beautiful, but of course he had known that since he was a kid. It had taken Ron a few years to realize Hermione was a girl, but Harry had recognized it from the moment she'd fixed his glasses on the Hogwart's Express. He had been very young, but she was the sort of girl he would imagine when playing with his toy knights under the stairs at Privet Drive. He would imagine himself as a knight and a girl like her would be the maiden who had to be saved. It felt like a fulfilled prophecy when he saved her from the mountain troll, but little did he realize that she would repay the debt in ten-fold, saving HIS life over and over again.

Yes, he'd realized she was a girl, and that she was quite pretty and later (when he was older and wiser) that she was quite beautiful and sometime after that (when Ron was out of the picture) that she was quite sexy. He never would have imagined he could have her for his own, but then again, her heart had always been his when he really thought about it. But why? he always wondered, and would never stop wondering.

Everything I touch turns to ash is what Draco had said, and it was a sentiment Harry knew all too well. Her eyes fluttered awake slowly and he did not make any effort to look away, did not care if it was embarrassing that he'd been caught watching her sleep. There was some confusion in her cinnamon brown eyes, and then they cleared and she sat up quickly.

“Did Madame Pomfrey say you were cleared to go? I really hope you're not sneaking out of the medical ward without her permission Harry, you can't just be running off…”

“You did, just last night” he reminded her and she blushed slightly, remembering her insistence on getting out of the hospital bed in spite of her head injury, and then remembering how he had healed her in the shower and then how much more had happened thereafter.

“Yes, well I wasn't dying” she retorted, and at those words he went very pale. “What is it Harry?” she asked, wishing for once she couldn't read him so well, because she already knew the answer before he said it.

“I'm not entirely cured. The bezoar slowed the effects of the poison though, and Pomfrey said that she could synthesize a potion that would continue to slow the effects down.”

“Slow the effects, but not stop them” she deduced, and he knew she was already connecting the dots. Nevertheless, her face revealed no pain or fear, just a flat, calm demeanor. “What would stop the poison for good?”

“Pomfrey spoke to all of the most qualified people, and from all accounts, there is no way to stop it for good. Maybe if Damon did a counterspell on Draco, it would release both of us from the effects, but aside from that…”

“There's no antidote” she surmised, finished his sentence. “And it'll be a cold day in hell when Damon releases either of you from death. Sure, we could try to bargain with him but it'll be an even colder day in hell when you stop fighting to save your own life.” Harry had expected her to cry, to refuse to accept it, or perhaps even to get angry. He had not expected this collected assessment of the situation, and it was scaring him even more than any amount of tears or anger could. “How long do you have?” she asked.

“Pomfrey doesn't know… it could be a few months, it could be a whole year…”

Hermione laughed but it was a bitter, short laugh. “Yes of course, how could they figure it out exactly without knowing the specificities of a curse so ancient that the only one who has record of it is an immortal.”

He wasn't sure what to say to that. She was right of course, but he wasn't sure how to follow up as she seemed so distant, so removed from the conversation. “Maybe I should give you some space…”

“DON'T!” she shouted, and suddenly the lamp next to the bed burst into a million pieces and one of the shards sliced through her forearm, causing her to clamp her hand down on it to stop the bleeding.

Harry was outside of the blast's radius and thus unhurt, but he sprung up immediately to check on her, kneeling down by the bedside and attempting to reach for the wound. She tried to pull away but he coaxed her into removing her hand so he could see the damage. It was fairly deep and bleeding profusely, and he moved his hand over it wordlessly, causing the blood to seep back into the wound and it then closed fully, without so much as a scar.

“How do you do that?” she asked, looking into his eyes as he still held her arm in his hand.

“What, wandless magic? You just did it yourself.”

“I did it for the first time today” she said, averting his eyes. “I understand it now, but I'm afraid I can't control it.”

Suddenly he realized that the reason for her flat, calm reaction to his news was that she was attempting to keep her magic from lashing out. “You will learn to control it. There's never been anything you haven't been able to learn when you set your mind to it.”

“I blew a hole in Malfoy's wall trying to get you the bezoar” she admitted, still not looking at him directly, biting her lip in that same worried gesture he had seen so many times before.

He smiled slightly, imagining Malfoy's reaction when he saw his precious family home had been remodeled. “I'm not surprised. I knew you'd learn to Channel eventually, and you've always been a powerful witch with powerful emotions. You will be great.”

“Not as great as you” she said, her voice choked up with emotion as she looked at her newly healed arm. “I'll never be able to heal others like this…. I won't be able to heal you.”

He enfolded her in his arms then and at first she went stiff with resistance and then she sunk into his embrace, burying her face against his shoulder. “The only reason I'm as powerful as I am is that I'm drawing strength off of Riddle's soul. But even then, I do not have the power to heal Malfoy this time.”

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked, and as she pulled away from him he saw that look in her eyes, that look that simultaneously gave him hope and concerned him. She wasn't going to let him die without a fight.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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20. Chapter 20: Self-Serving

Author's Note: Thanks as always for the great reviews! I'll admit I'm slowing down on my posts because my work load has been insane, but when I find the spare time I can promise you that finishing this story is a priority of mine.

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CHAPTER 20: Self-Serving

When Harry awoke he turned to seek out the warmth of his lover, but instead was greeted by an empty bed, the sheets already cold. Despite the fact that he was feeling groggy he already knew where she had gone; the library. He sighed and sat up, running his fingers through his unruly black hair. He knew what he needed to start doing, and he knew time was of the essence. He hadn't talked to her about it yet because it was a mission he didn't want her there for. He had his reasons- oh so many of them- but he knew she would not take no for an answer, and ultimately she would get her way. Slowly moving out of the bed he stood in front of a long mirror and gazed evenly at himself. He was only in his boxers and his exposed skin revealed a rough landscape of scars. These were the scars that she would inevitably learn more about if she came with him.

She'll find out who you really are Potter whispered a voice in his mind that sounded eerily like Riddle. He reached for the pendant around his neck, toying with it in his hand. It was strange, but in that instant he wanted to talk to Riddle. Alarmed by the urge he dropped the pendant and instead let his gaze veer off towards the black stain just right of his heart. It was a little bigger than it had been yesterday, and he imagined that Madame Pomfrey would be looking for him soon with a dose of her new potion.

Pulling his clothes on he decided it was time to get on with living, or get on with dying. Depending on which way you look at it that voice whispered again. He shoved the pendant down the front of his shirt so it was out of sight, but he could still feel it against his skin.

He delayed the inevitable by first finding Madame Pomfrey, who gave him several weeks' supply of the antidote along with stern instructions. The makeshift hospital wing was now deserted and Pomfrey had to be getting back to the neglected students at Hogwarts. Harry thanked her for her services and then she was gone into the floo with a blast of green flames.

He headed to the library, feeling heavier with each step. The black hallways of Malfoy Manor echoed with each step he took, as though sounding off the remaining seconds of his life. It was strange how familiar he had become with Draco Malfoy's macabre home. Despite his familiarity with the layout, there were still many wings and passages he knew nothing about. This is why he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ron Weasley suddenly stepped out of the shadows.

“Bloody hell Ron, you almost scared me to death.”

“From what Hermione just told me, you're almost there anyways.” Ron's tone was an attempt at sounding light but instead came out as a mixture of fury and sorrow.

“Ron I- I just found out last night. I was going to tell you but….”

“But how do you tell your best mate you've got a rapidly approaching expiration date?” Ron asked, and Harry was relieved when he realized that Ron understood. “There's not exactly a neat little greeting card for that sort of thing eh?”

“No” Harry smiled weakly. “There sure isn't.”

“Hermione will figure something out” Ron said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “She's already buried in a pile of books down in the library.”

“I figured as much” Harry said, his smile more genuine this time as he pictured Hermione in her most famous pose; her nose buried in a book. A faint sliver of light from the nearby window was piercing through the otherwise black hallway, reflecting off of Ron's famous Weasley red hair. For a moment both boys were silent and all humor drained from their expressions as they studied each other. There were many unspoken things conveyed in that gaze; years of friendship and loyalty. Years spent joking around in the dorm room, years spent on the Quidditch pitch, years spent facing danger and certain death. There had also been the bad times; jealousy, petty fights, and misunderstandings. But in the end, they had shared a friendship of great depth and legendary feats.

Ron broke the silence by saying the one thing that could sum it all up. “I'm not ready to lose another brother.” Throwing all stoic manliness aside Harry strode over to Ron and embraced him a tight hug, adding a thump on the back for good measure.

“If it helps any, I'm not ready to die again either.”

“I'm glad to hear it” Ron responded with a half grin. A moment later he sobered up. “I'm sorry I ever went along with the plan that Hermione made with Malfoy. I knew keeping you in the dark was a bad idea… it got people killed and if it ends up killing you as well…”

“You all did what you thought was best” Harry said. “Nobody could have foreseen this. Draco didn't mean for any of this to happen, no more than you or Hermione did.”

Ron gave Harry an odd look at the use of Draco's first name but said nothing. “Well, be that as it may, if Malfoy's shit plan is what results in ending both of your lives, I'm going to resurrect him just to kill him again.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness in Ron's tone, and a moment later they were both laughing, the sound of their voices filling the dark hallway and fighting away the shadows that seemed to press in around them from all angles.

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After finding out that he wasn't long for this world, Draco had found sleep to be elusive. He had wandered the hallways of his family home, ignoring the muffled voices of the hidden portraits. He wondered what they would say to him if he told them he was dying. They would probably be happy. Well, as close to happy as such sinister portraits could possibly be.

I won't just roll over and die he thought stubbornly as he rounded the corner and discovered a gaping hole in the wall of his home. Granger he thought instantly, somehow just knowing that it had been her handiwork. To be fair, there wasn't any other way for her to access his potions ingredients, and she had been indirectly trying to save his life. Indirectly indeed. Had it just been me dying and not Harry would she have bothered? Would any of them have bothered?

He was surprised to find he already knew the answer, and it was a simple and resounding yes. Yes, they would have tried to save him because they were heroes and that's what heroes did; they saved people, even if the person they were saving was a worthless snake beyond redemption. When I hid my plans from Harry I put a nail in his coffin. My actions will cause him to die, however unintended that may be. And any thoughts of redemption I ever had have vanished.

But I will not just roll over and die.

He removed his wand from its holster and proceeded to fix the damage that Granger had caused. He was going to do his damnedest to find a lasting antidote to the poison that was growing in his and Harry's veins. The more he learned of magic, the more he realized what a complicated thing it was. Making an Unbreakable Vow by blood had set off a course of reactions like dominos that he never even would have considered possible. Yes, magic is complicated but that doesn't mean a solution can't be discovered.

He had intended to start his research in the library, but as he peered in through the glass panes of the entrance doors he had seen Granger was already tirelessly engaged in the same task. He wasn't ready to see her; he imagined the look of blame and pain she would convey might be unbearable, even for a cold boy like himself. “It's your fault” she would say. “You thought you were so clever, and now Harry is going to die, and it's all your fault.” The thought of facing her was frightening and in some ways Draco was still very much a coward.

When he had finished mending the damaged wall he discovered that the portrait was far beyond repair, so he exposed of the remaining debris and decided to use a simple password protected door to seal of his dungeon instead. He realized he had spent nearly an hour dealing with the tasks at hand and was in a bit of a rush to get to his research. So it was that he descended down the gloomy steps to the one place that he felt he might still have some value.

He started by examining the last remaining bezoar in his collection. It was his hope that by understanding the chemical principles that made the object a deterrent against poison, he might come to better understand a way to create a stronger, more permanent elixir. There was a common misunderstanding in the world of magic that all things happened whimsically and out of the blue. He knew this to be false; magic had very scientific principles to it. Of course, those principles were often incredibly complex and difficult to unravel. But Merlin be damned, he would surely try.

Is redemption possible?

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He felt their eyes on him, penetrating right through his flesh. He kept his own gaze averted, unable to bear the sight of tears streaming down Ginny's cheeks or the look of sorrow in Luna's silvery grey eyes. He had asked Ron to round them up and bring them to the library to discuss the matter of his dying. It wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss; just saying it out loud made it too real. Still, they had stuck by him since the beginning and it was only fair that they should know the cards they were now playing with.

It's so unfair he thought, echoing the same petulant thinking he had the night before. It was one thing for him to die; he had done it before. It was another for him to leave his friends in this situation; a deadly Damon out for their heads and an entire army on the verge of a global uprising. They're good, brave, honest, loyal people. Why do they always have to pay the price that evil exacts?

“We need to talk about Damon” Harry said, collecting himself and hoping that he sounded calm. Inside there was a storm of rage and it required everything that Draco had taught him to keep it from spilling out. It was easier to stick to business and avoid these sticky things that were called emotions. He looked up now, fixing his gaze to Hermione who was in work mode and thus was not currently crying. “It may be that Damon is afraid of Tom Riddle, and being that I am in possession of Riddle's soul he may be afraid to face me. I believe he's going to go into hiding until I no longer pose a threat.”

“You mean until you die” Ron said bluntly and Harry watched Hermione flinch. He shot Ron a scathing look and the redhead had the good grace to look bashful.

“Yes, but Damon doesn't know I'm wounded. He doesn't know if his trick worked. He may be planning to settle back into hiding for the long haul once more. As long as we can keep my… condition a secret, we will buy ourselves some time to plan a better attack on him. The poisoning situation with Draco and I cannot be spoken about outside of this room. Understood?”

Everyone nodded except for Ron who looked grim. “And do we trust Malfoy not to spill the beans?”

“Draco Malfoy may be many things, but he's certainly good at keeping secrets. But moving on, we need to discuss coming up with a better plan for dealing with Damon. We don't know where he's hiding and we certainly don't want to walk into another trap. I am going to need you all to work on gaining some intelligence on where he might be. You'll also need to keep up the Mental Channeling trainings with our supporters.”

“None of us can Channel as well as you can, why won't you be the one doing the training?” Luna asked, her tone inquisitive but slightly trembling with emotion.

“Because I have somewhere I need to go for a while” Harry explained, feeling his stomach churn. This was the part he had been most concerned about addressing. “There are… people who owe me favors. When I was working as an Auror I helped one group in particular that will be a great resource to us. I'll need to track them down and solicit their help.”

“Who exactly are these people Harry?” Ron asked, intuitively picking up on the hesitation in Harry's tone.

Harry paused, nervously biting at his lower lip. He looked away from Ron and to Hermione. “They are called the Bloody 65th.”

Hermione closed her eyes, clearly recognizing the name as he thought she would. “I thought they were legend” she muttered, massaging her temples as though she suddenly had a headache.

“They are real. I was surprised too when they reached out to me a couple years ago about a mission…”

“Care to fill the rest of us in?” Ron asked, annoyed that Harry and Hermione had fallen into their usual habit of talking to each other like nobody else was in the room.

“I only know of the legends” Hermione admitted. “I'd read about the Bloody First in a book called `Tales of Magical Heroism of the Ages'.”

“Naturally” Ron responded, rolling his eyes.

“Anyways, according to the tale, the Bloody First Regiment was formed back in ancient times as a band of vigilantes who were dedicated to combatting dark magic. Not just dark witches and wizards though; demons, massive curses, evil objects…”

“We get it… they were ridding the world of bad stuff. Why were called the Bloody First though?”

“Well, they were the first regiment of its kind to be formed” she explained, despite the seemingly obvious nature of the response. “But they were called bloody because their tactics were brutal. And according to the legend, they weren't exactly the good guys; at least not always. For ages they identified innocent creatures like werewolves as being evil and would slaughter them by the hundreds. No political group would sanction their methods and they became secretive, falling into legend.”

“They still exist” Harry replied with a sigh. “They are in their 65th generation now and while they aren't as archaic as they were, they certainly aren't the most savory people.”

“If they battle evil then where the hell were they when Voldemort was murdering folks?!” Ron exclaimed, the tips of his ears burning bright red.

“That's the first thing I asked their commander. She told me that they offered their help to the Minister, but he refused. Apparently something very similar happened with the Minister during the First War. They will not go anywhere they aren't welcome.”

Ginny made a noise of annoyance, and Ron fell back in his seat staring at the ceiling. “Fucking politicians!” he swore and Harry cracked a grin, despite the residual anxiety he was still feeling. Hermione was staring at him intently now, and without even looking at her he could sense that she had a million questions buzzing around in that brilliant mind of hers.

“What was the mission they reached out to you about?” Ron asked, and Harry's eyes darkened.

“It had to do with a demon horde that was wreaking havoc on magical communities throughout South America” Harry said, standing suddenly so he could walk towards the mantle and turn his back on his friends. He did not want them to see the turmoil in his expression. He did not want them to see the truth of what he was.

“Demons are real?” Ron asked, perplexed. “I thought they were some muggle invention used to make people act good.”

“Yes and no” Hermione interceded, and Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. It was much easier to have her do the talking. “The muggle demon has to do with hell and deals with the devil, which is obviously mythical. However, the concept is based on a real magical phenomenon having to do with the destruction of the soul in exchange for eternal life. A wizard or witch can perform a ceremony that results in the complete destruction of the soul but it allows them to become immortal. However, in addition to the terrible side effect of losing your soul, in order for demons to survive they need to feed off of magical energy. They can drain the magical power from any magical being, leaving them a squib.”

“Why would anyone want to destroy their soul?” Ginny asked, aghast.

“Ask Tom Riddle” Harry responded, and they all jumped slightly at the mention of the name. Harry sighed, absently patting the pendant beneath his shirt. “Riddle split his soul into pieces, leaving him with almost nothing of his former self…. all in the name of living forever. That is why the Bloody 65th contacted me to help them. They knew I had a bit of experience with horcruxes and they hoped some of the principles might be the same in regards to demons.”

“Were they?” Hermione asked, her natural curiosity coming to light.

“No” Harry said, and his answer was so short and cold that she knew not to ask him anything else. At least not now, not in front of everyone else she ascertained. She could tell he was hiding something, but furthermore she could tell that what he was hiding was a point of great point and shame for him. It was no wonder he had never mentioned his involvement with the legendary group of vigilantes to her; something had gone very badly.

“So, you're going to find these guys and they're going to help us?” Ron asked, breaking an awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

“Yes, but it may take a while and a bit of persuasion. You see, there is a commander but she does not control decisions made for the entire group. It's a democracy; they all vote on which missions they will undertake. Some of the current regiment does not like me, so I'll have to contend with that.”

“We will go with you” Ron offered. “We can back you up.”

“No” Harry said once more, his tone equally stern. “As I said before, I will need all of you to be working on tracking down Damon and continuing with the training of our supporters.”

“And looking for a cure to your condition” Hermione reminded him and when he looked at her he saw accusation in her stare, a look that said “did you already forget about saving you own life?”.

“Yes, that too” Harry said weakly. She looked away from him and he realized that this conversation was far from over. Ron seemed to intuitively sense that the couple had some things to discuss and so he stood up slowly, stretching his lanky arms above his head.

“I for one still haven't had breakfast” Ron announced. “All this talk of Harry's `condition' and ancient vigilantes and ancient bad guys has me famished. Ginny and Luna, think you gals could give me a hand in the kitchen?”

Luna stood quickly and gracefully, giving Harry a sad smile before departing from the room. Ginny on the other hand, sat a while longer and the look in her eyes as she fixed her gaze upon Harry was one of deep pain and sadness. Harry stood up without hesitation and crossed the short distance between them, taking her in his arms and giving her an all-encompassing hug. “It's going to be okay” he whispered in her ear and she sniffled for a moment before straightening out and regaining her usual poise.

As Ginny left the room escorted by her concerned older brother, Hermione wondered if Ginny was still in love with Harry. If you're in love with Harry I won't get mad about it.,, Those had been Ginny's precise words when they had arrived in Paris. And she had not shown any resentment whatsoever regarding Harry and Hermione's new relationship. Because it isn't new…. not to her anyways Hermione realized. Ginny had long ago accepted that which Harry and Hermione had been too blind to see. But just because she accepted that Harry did not love her in that way did not mean that she wasn't still in love with Harry, on some small level.

“I haven't given up hope that we might find a cure” Harry said, breaking Hermione's reverie. He was back to standing by the mantle, avoiding looking at her. “It's just that… it's easier for me to focus on other things.”

“It was the same way during the hunt for the horcruxes” Hermione admitted. “We both knew you might… you might die, but you wouldn't acknowledge it.”

“Could you?” he asked honestly, and he turned towards her now, a gleam in his eyes.

“No, but we can't ignore it either” she sighed and in that moment she looked so impossibly tired that she seemed frail. Frail was never a word Harry would use to describe Hermione. In fact, she was the strongest person he had ever known. This is what I do to people he realized, and he turned away once more, unable to bear the guilt that such thinking brought. “You've put me in a difficult position” she said after a pause.

“How so?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“You're dying Harry. I can't let you go off alone. I won't. But if I go with you, I won't have the resources I need to find a cure for you either.”

“It would be better if you stayed here” he told her cautiously.

“Better for you, yes I can tell that. It's clear that you don't want me to know certain things about your involvement with the Bloody 65th. But Harry, I would never judge you. I- I love you.” Her words were so filled with emotion that he felt compelled to go to her, breaking through the barrier he had feebly been trying to build. He took her in his arms and she did not resist, resting her head against his chest and listening to that reassuring heart beat that resounded from beneath.

“I love you too,” he said, wishing he had said those words a million times more.

“I think I can help ease this situation,” said a strange voice that made them both jump. Harry turned quickly towards the sound and in an impressive display of wandless magic he had the intruder pinned against the wall in mere nanoseconds.

“Bloody hell Draco” Harry snarled once he had a clear view of the intruder's face. “Why would you sneak up on a person like that?”

“It's my house” Draco reminded Harry, panting slightly as Harry released him. “Anyways, I was looking for a particular book and saw you all having a meeting in here and didn't want to disturb you. I sort of snuck in through a secret passage.”

“How many of those are in this damned house?” Harry cursed.

“Hundreds at least” Draco shrugged. Not for the first time, Harry marveled at how very different Draco Malfoy's upbringing was from his own.

“All of this still doesn't quite explain why you were spying on us” Hermione added. Draco looked at her and she instantly saw something in his expression she had never seen before; humility and grief. She was taken aback, but as soon as she saw it, it was gone.

“I wasn't spying on you” Draco said in his best haughty tone. “I happened to overhear what you were talking about, and I'm willing to offer a possible solution. You want to go with Harry but you also need to find a cure. What if you left the cure finding up to me? I have always been better at potions than you, and I have many resources at my disposal.”

“I don't trust you” Hermione said flatly and Harry saw Draco flinch. Even he himself was surprised by the unusual tinge of cruelty in Hermione's tone. On the other hand, Draco Malfoy had tormented her back at Hogwarts, had mocked her muggle-born status and had watched as she was tortured by his crazy aunt. Hermione may have learned to play nice with Draco Malfoy, but she had no reason to trust or like him.

“I don't blame me for not trusting me Granger” Draco responded, his tone calm and unreadable. Harry gave Draco a warning look and Draco revised his choice of words. “I mean, I don't blame you for not trusting me Hermione. Nobody can argue that you've always been bright, and you'd be a moron to trust me after everything I've done in my life. Hell, the only one stupid enough to invest any amount of trust in me has been Harry and look where that's gotten him.” She saw it again, that brief look of remorse, and she relaxed slightly, letting go of her defensive posture. If Harry was offended by Draco's choice of verbiage he showed no indication. In fact, when Hermione looked at the black haired man there was a look of sympathy in his emerald green eyes. If anyone ever had reason to hate Draco Malfoy it's Harry Potter. How has he learned to forgive?

Draco continued, “I know you don't have a reason in the world to trust me. But I can promise you this; if there is a cure out there, I will find it. Not just because I feel I have a debt to Harry, or because I am looking for redemption. I will find the cure because I don't want to fucking die. So you can question any of my more noble intentions but you must believe that last one; I will do whatever I have to in order to save my own miserable, worthless life. Is that something you can believe?”

Hermione stared deeply into Draco's grey eyes, as though trying to read his soul. As Harry watched this exchange between the two of them he felt like it was a warm front hitting a cold front; a storm was about to emerge. “Yes” Hermione said finally. “Yes, that I can believe.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''

His things were packed and he had said his farewells to Luna, Ron, Ginny and Draco. Nevertheless, Harry felt anxious about what lie ahead of him and he did not feel ready to leave Malfoy Manor. There's something I never thought I'd lament he thought darkly, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders and exiting the room that he had spent nearly a month sharing with Hermione. It was strange that the dark and dingy guest room had come to feel like home.

He had contacted an old ally during the day and discovered the approximate whereabouts of the Bloody 65th. They were camped out in the far northern region of Canada, which did not please him in the least. He had no fondness for camping ever since the horcrux hunt, and he especially disliked the freezing cold; there were some types of cold that even warming charms could not keep away. There was also the fact that he had been a different person when he had worked with the Bloody 65th. Hermione had promised she would not judge him, but he couldn't imagine she would still feel the same about him if she knew the truth about who he had been and the things he had done.

He patted on the pendant hidden under his shirt for comfort and went to find Hermione waiting for him in the parlor, staring deeply into the flames before her. She was well bundled up for arctic weather and he marveled at how much better they were prepared for this than they had been on their last camping excursion. Back then a miracle that Hermione had been insightful enough to keep her bag of supplies on hand at all times or else they wouldn't have even had a damned tent to sleep in. I was a totally lost prat back then he thought to himself as he sat down next to her on the sofa. Not much has changed; I'd still be lost without her.

“Ready?” he asked, and she simply nodded, a resolute look in her eyes. He offered her his hand, pulling her up with him as they stood. They each grabbed a handful of green powder and throwing it into the fire they disappeared in a roar of flames. They had constructed a careful plan of weaving through the floo network in order to hide their tracks from anyone who might try to follow, and so it wasn't until many fireplaces later (and a great deal of black soot) that they finally arrived at a small ranger station located in the Northern Rocky Mountains of British Columbia.

Coughing, they shook the soot off and took in the plain wooden hut that surrounded them. A moment later a rather surprised looking wizard emerged, his wand poised. “Who are you?” he asked, not lowering his wand. “I wasn't expecting company… I hardly ever am out here.” The wizard looked no older than 20 and was rather skinny with a very pale complexion. He was clearly quite timid and looked almost embarrassed that he still had his wand pointed at them.

“We're looking for some friends of mine” Harry explained, and his tone was so patient that the wizard decided to lower his wand. “We didn't mean to startle you, this is just the only ranger station in the area.”

“Oh, well yes, that is true. Who could you possibly be looking for though? Nobody really lives out in these parts, at least not for a few hundred kilometers…”

“I think you can guess” Harry said, his tone suddenly stern. He ran his fingers through his hair, exposing his scar.

“Oh… them. Everett said you might show up here. I don't know much about them to be honest, so if you're hoping for me to guide you to them I don't think…”

“I wouldn't ask that of you” Harry promised and the wizard visibly relaxed. Clearly he was not supposed to be discussing the Bloody 65th in any capacity and felt more than a little intimidated by his newly arrived guests. “Everett told me they're around this area and I'll track them down. I know they paid you a short visit a while back, what did they want?”

“I'm not really sure I should say…”

“None of this will come back to you, I promise” Harry assured, and he gestured to the small square table in the center of the room as though to suggest they all take a seat. Hermione was only too happy to sit down; all the floo travel had her feeling a bit dizzy still. The little wizard sat down but he still looked quite nervous.

“What's your name?” Hermione asked, trying a gentler approach.

“It's Sam” he said, looking at her as though he had just noticed her for the first time.

“Nice to meet you Sam, I'm Hermione and I'm sure you already know that this is Harry Potter. We're not looking for any trouble, but if you could answer a few questions it would make our trip a lot easier.”

“You may not be looking for trouble, but you're bound to find it if the Bloody 65th is who you're after.”

“We're not `after' anyone” Harry assured Sam. “Like I said, they're friends.”

Sam gave Harry a peculiar look, as though to ask “what sort of guy is friends with that lot?” but he said nothing out loud, simply standing up and busying himself with making some tea. Harry looked as though he was about to push the subject but Hermione placed a calming hand on his wrist and he held his tongue. After a moment Sam offered them a spot of tea to which they both agreed and then he sat back down. It was clear that his nerves were rattled and for the first time Hermione felt truly anxious about meeting Harry's former allies.

“There have been sightings of ijiraq in this region” Sam finally said, blowing the steam off his mug of tea. “At least, that's what I was hearing reports of. There aren't a lot of inhabitants out in these parts, but there's a small wizarding village hidden in the mountains. One of the town leaders came to me one day; panicked because he said that a child was missing and when they sent a search party out to find him half of the people went missing. Only one made it back, and he told them that they'd seen an ijiraq, that it had disoriented them and they'd all wandered off and froze to death. They still haven't found the little boy but he's almost certainly dead…”

“What's an ijiraq?” Harry asked, confused.

“It's a legend” Hermione quickly responded. “They aren't supposed to be real, but then again in the magical world anything is possible. In Inuit mythology it was believed that some men traveled too far North and that they became trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. They became evil shadows, luring kids to far off places and abandoning them to die. They can also confuse travelers and make them become lost in the snow.”

“I had always thought it was just a story” Sam agreed. “And I certainly wouldn't expect to see them here, but then I suppose they go wherever is cold enough to sustain them. I reported what had happened to the Canadian Ministry division of Magical Investigations. And then, a few days later the Bloody 65th showed up. Guess they caught wind of it and decided to take matters into their own hands. I also thought the Bloody 65th was just a legend… it's a been a weird week.”

“How long ago were they here?” Harry asked.

“Only two days ago” Sam shrugged. “I'm glad they've moved on. Hopefully they can help but they were not pleasant guests. They were headed to the village by foot, hoping to spot the ijiraq along the way.”

“How long would it take them to reach the village by foot?”

“Two to three days, depending on how fast they move… and depending on if they encounter any trouble.”

“We'll head straight over to the village then and meet them there” Harry nodded. “Do you mind us using the floo?”

“Not at all!” Sam said, jumping up and grabbing the powder. He's eager to have us leave Hermione realized. She didn't blame him. A man who lived alone as a ranger in the middle of nowhere wasn't likely to be overly fond of company, especially company that was asking all sorts of questions.

Getting back on their feet they headed to the fireplace for one last floo trip. I hope this is all worth it she thought as the green roar of flames rushed around her.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

** Author's Note: I should mention that I've tweaked the mythology regarding the ijiraq for the purpose of this story. It is based on an actual Inuit myth but I needed to change a few things for the purpose of clarity. Anyhow, let me know what you thought of the chapter

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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21. Chapter 21: Of Cold Places and Cold Boys

CHAPTER 21: Of Cold Places and Cold Boys

Luna tried to stop the lion's bleeding but she couldn't touch or affect him. Her hand passed right through him when she tried and his green eyes continued to stare at the horizon, uncaring of the black blood that now matted his fur and soaked the snow beneath him. She followed his gaze to where the icy ground met the blue sky in a thin line.

“What is he waiting for?” she wondered, and then he roared so loudly that she felt jolted. Slowly the scene faded from around her but before she awoke she was certain she heard the howl of a wolf.

Once more Luna started her day with a pounding headache. She tried to sit but the pain blinded her and so she lay down once more, massaging her temples. There was a noise outside her door and she tried to call out but the sound of her voice made the pain worse and so she curled up into a fetal position on the bed.

“Luna… are you alright?” Ron's voice sounded so loud that the world seemed to vibrate around her and she waved at him miserably, gesturing towards her head.

“Oh sorry” he whispered “Got a hangover then?” She laughed at his joke and the pain seemed to dissipate a bit as he sat down beside her on the bed, rubbing her back in a soothing gesture. Despite her discomfort Luna felt a shiver of pleasure pass through her at his touch. “I could hear you moaning from outside. Another headache is it?”

She nodded and he stood, quietly leaving the room. After a while she thought he had abandoned her but then he returned with a glass of cold water, which she eagerly consumed. “Thank you Ronald, that helped” she said softly, setting the empty glass on the bedside stand.

“It always helped me after a bender” he admitted. “You should probably get some medical help though, it seems like the headaches are bad.”

She looked at him and was dazzled by the look of concern in his eyes. “I don't think there's any time for that. Perhaps I can ask Draco to make me a potion to help with the pain.”

Ron looked away at the mention of Draco, snorting to indicate his disgust. “I wouldn't drink any potion mixed up by that slimy git.”

Luna opened her mouth to respond but then thought better of it, closing her mouth once more before deciding on the right words. “Thank you for the water… I'm going to go find Draco and then I suppose we should get to the task Harry left us with.”

“Track down an untraceable mad man” Ron sighed, standing up and offering Luna a hand. “I think he might have gotten the easier task, dealing with the Bloody 65th.”

“I doubt it” Luna said sincerely as they paced down the dark corridor before them. Not for the first time Luna wondered if there was a single thing that could be done to make the Manor less like a mausoleum. She had some rather whimsical notions when it came to decor, but none of it was likely to make a dent in the icy palace. They fell into silence for some time until she had reached the entrance to Draco's potions dungeon.

“How do you know he's down there?” Ron asked. “It's still pretty early, he might be sleeping.”

“If time was running out on your life and the only possible solution was finding a cure would you waste time sleeping?” The question was asked in such a simple and sweet manner that Ron could not help but laugh and he followed her down the stairs. “I didn't expect you to come with me” Luna called over her shoulder as they descended the ever-spiraling staircase.

“I wouldn't want you to deal with Malfoy on your own” Ron said honestly, and although he couldn't see her face she smiled softly. Towards the bottom of the stairs she slipped on a damp patch on the rocks and nearly took a nasty fall forward but Ron rushed forward, grabbing her upper arm and steadying her against the wall. They were very close and he realized she had a sweet floral fragrance about her that he rather enjoyed. There was something soothing about it and he drifted in closer still until he heard her clear her throat and he realized that he had her somewhat cornered.

Blushing so brightly that his face matched his hair he stepped back, allowing her to continue to trek down the stairs. What is wrong with me? he wondered. A few months out of the game and here I am acting like some pervert in front of poor Luna Lovegood. Yet as he followed her down the steps he took the chance to glance at her from the rear and he couldn't help his mind from wandering to more devious thoughts. There's a special place in hell for blokes like me.

“What do you two want?” was Draco Malfoy's immediate reaction to seeing his fellow Hogwarts alumnus. His entire laboratory was alive with bubbling vials of substances and steaming cauldrons. In the midst of it all was an exceptionally large, exceptionally dusty book.

“I've been waking up with the worst headaches every morning” Luna said in a tone that was more pleasant than required. She helped herself to a seat on a nearby stool while Ron chose to stand closer to the doorway, arms crossed defensively across his chest. “I hoped you might have something for it.”

To Ron's great surprise Draco did not offer his typical snide response, simply dashing out of the room and into his supply closet only to return with a small jar of herbs which he threw to Luna and she deftly caught. “Brew those into a tea every morning” Draco instructed, returning his attention to the experiments at hand. “That should help.”

“Thank-you” Luna said sincerely, standing up and glancing at Draco's work. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes, how did you know?” he muttered, still not looking up.

“It takes at least six hours to properly prepare a level one poison detection potion and based on the color of that vial there you're just about at that stage.” This caused Draco to look up with surprised look on his face. Luna simply smiled. “I was never the best at potions, in fact I have an aptitude to be a bit clumsy. However, I tend to remember the oddest little details. If you need someone to help you with research, I'd be glad to lend a hand.”

“Thank-you” Draco said, the words feeling strange coming from his mouth. He had always thought Luna Lovegood was a total lunatic; occasionally insightful, but mostly mad. She had caught him off guard and he wondered how many of the judgments he had made in his life were mostly wrong. “Harry would appreciate it if you can find the time to help, I'm sure.”

“I wouldn't just be doing it for Harry” Luna said and there was a glimmer in her eye reminding him of the words she had shared with him once before; believe it or not, you do have some friends. He tore his gaze away, because in spite of the kindness she had shown it all felt like salt being poured in an open wound. I don't deserve forgiveness, I don't deserve friendship. I certainly don't deserve redemption.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry awoke with a sharp intake of air as a brutal pain seemed to be crushing his chest. It subsided after a moment but the motion had already awoken Hermione who had been sleeping peacefully next to him. They had arrived at the snow-covered village in the valley just hours before and as they were slightly ahead of the Bloody 65th they had opted to spend the night at the only bed and breakfast the village had to offer. It was tiny but cozy and the both of them had immediately fallen fast asleep from the excitement of the preceding day.

“What's wrong?” she mumbled, a dark silhouette besides him.

“Nothing” he lied, but of course she could read his tone even in the dark.

“Lumos” she whispered and he squinted against the sudden emergence of the bright light. His hand had automatically moved to the point of pain and she brushed it away without asking, revealing the dark bruise-like mark beneath it. “It's grown” she sighed. “Did you remember to take your potion last night?”

“No” he admitted, sounding like a child nervous of being reprimanded.

“Bloody hell Harry!” she said, swearing with an uncharacteristic fury. She moved across him, half straddling his body as she searched through a bag on the bedside table. In spite of the seriousness of the situation he felt his body react in a rather pleasurable manner, which she undoubtedly noticed but pointedly ignored. Half throwing the small vial at him she moved away, laying back down on the bed but turning her back to him.

Silently he drank the potion and then laid back down, feeling the silence around him press in. It was nearly pitch dark once more and he remembered times as a child when the darkness of the closet that was his bedroom would surround him and he would wonder if that was what it felt like to die. Now he tried to decide if he ought to push his luck by saying something to her or if he should just fall back to sleep. He waited a moment, knowing full well that he could never sleep if she was angry with him and so he listened to her breathing to determine if she had fallen asleep herself. Her breathing is calm and measured, like she wants me to think she's asleep. But she's not. He had listened to her breathing in her sleep many times before they'd actually started sleeping together and he knew that normally her breaths were more shallow and fast paced.

“I'm sorry” he said after a while, deciding that addressing the matter was the right thing to do. “I was just so tired I totally forgot…”

“You can't forget about things like that… it's your life Harry. Sometimes I wonder if you value it.”

The words hit him hard. It wasn't as though she was being unfair; his history had suggested many near suicidal feats, and perhaps he hadn't properly expressed to her how much he did indeed want to live. Back at Malfoy Manor she had accused him of avoiding the situation and he knew that he still was. But it was so much easier to avoid than it was to confront. Everything about the past few months had been a whirlwind; from Hermione's life being threatened to discovering that Draco Malfoy may have a shred of humanity in him, to the Burrow burning down, to realizing he was desperately in love with his best friend, to discovering he could control wandless magic… to discovering he might die very soon.

There hadn't been a moment to thoroughly process a single one of these emotions. Which was fine; Harry had always felt that processing emotions was a waste of time. The Dursleys certainly never stood for it, and neither had Albus Dumbledore in many ways. There was what needed to get done, and that was what Harry Potter excelled at focusing his attention on. Emotions were messy distractions.

But now he was in a real relationship and it meant everything to him to try to make her happy. He knew he was doing a bloody awful job of it (what with the whole secret battle thing and the whole dying thing) but he did not want to ruin what he had with Hermione just because he was bad with expressing his feelings. His limited ability to process emotions was what had ended things with Ginny, and he was already afraid that it would have the same results with Hermione. The difference this time was that he could never live without Hermione; he had never been able to in the first place.

He took in a long breath and then said the only thing he could think to say, “I'm scared.”

Those two words hit Hermione like a hurricane. She expected him to explain his feelings away as he always had, or perhaps turn his back and become evasive until the conversation slipped into obscurity. Instead he said the two words that the masses never believed the courageous Harry Potter would ever say, and she realized he was trying to make himself vulnerable to her. Somehow it was a more romantic gesture than any proclamations of love he could make. She leaned into him then, running her hand along the stubble of his chin to find his mouth in the dark, and she kissed him passionately, as though her embrace could somehow erase his problem, heal his wounds. She felt him relax back against the mattress and she was half on top of him now, his hand rested on her waist as her embrace subsided into soft butterfly kisses scattered across his face.

His fears weren't erased, but for the moment he seemed to let them go from his mind. She thought of all the times she had seen fear and anger and doubt in his eyes. All those times when he had just been a boy and the world had been stacked on his shoulders and he'd had to hide all of his concerns so he could go on being the hero they needed instead of the child he was. It had made her feel special to know that she was one of the few people in the world whom he trusted with his secrets, trusted to show his emotions to. At the same time though, it had been a heavy burden on herself to know that all of those times, she could do her best to be at his side and keep him safe, but she could never truly alleviate those pains he carried. Now she finally had a way to help make him forget for a while.

I should have just kissed him the first time it occurred to me she pondered as she removed her nightgown.

The first time she had ever thought to kiss him… really kiss him, not just a peck on the cheek…. had been during third year when he'd thought he'd seen his father only to discover that it had been himself he'd seen; his father was in fact still very much dead. The sheer disappointment and despair in his gaze at admitting to himself that he had gotten his hopes up for nothing had broken her heart in two. She had never seen someone look so alone, so distant. And while she had always harbored a small crush on him, it was in that moment that she longed wholeheartedly to kiss him, if only to remind him that he wasn't alone and that everything would be all right.

“Everything will be alright” she whispered in the dark, but it was more for her own benefit than his. Because even as the words came from her mouth, she felt like a liar.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“Bloody git, he's such a smug little arsehole. I should turn him into fucking ferret again…”

“That sounds kinky” Ginny said, emerging from one of Malfoy Manor's many shadows as Ron stalked by.

The tips of Ron's ears turned red and he glared at his sister who responded with a look of innocence. “Shut up you” she grumbled, embarrassed by being caught talking to himself.

“What's your latest drama with our sulky blonde friend?” she asked, following Ron into the kitchen where he promptly fell to his favorite coping mechanism; eating.

“He's not our friend.”

“Frenemy?”

“Try just plain enemy thank-you” Ron mumbled as he bit into an apple.

“I think Harry would disagree. We're supposed to all be working together while Harry is off dealing with the Bloody 65th.”

“I'd rather deal with the Bloody 65th than deal with that bastard.”

“You really did inherit Mum's genes for drama, do you know that? And you didn't answer my question, what has he done this time to piss you off? Or is it simply the mere thought of his existence that you have such difficulty with?”

“He's down there in his cold dungeon doing his whole wounded animal routine.”

“Aaaaand why exactly does this have your knickers in a twist?”

“It pisses me off because you girls fall for it! It's so cliché and obvious, he just lowers those grey eyes of his and lets that silver hair he has fall across his brow and talks in that brooding, reluctant hero tone…”

“It sounds like YOU are the one falling for it” Ginny quipped, narrowly dodging the apple core he chucked at her.

“You know what I mean! I just don't get why she feeds into his ego, it's already bigger than Umbridge's arse…”

“Oh and by SHE do you mean the lovely and whimsical Miss Lovegood?”

“I uh… what I mean to say is… I'm just looking out for her, she's a nice girl and shouldn't be mucking about with the likes of Draco Malfoy!”

“Ah you're `just looking out for her' then. You're such a good friend Ronald” Ginny snidely replied, rolling her eyes for emphasis.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“You like her Ron! Why can't you just admit that you like a girl?”

“I've liked many… many girls” Ron said, emphasizing the word “many” in a rather lewd and unnecessary manner. “What I feel about Luna is different. She's like… a friend to me.”

“Well you really shouldn't spend so much time checking your `friend' out” Ginny responded with a smug grin.

Now Ron's entire face matched the color of his hair. “I don't check her out.”

“No, your eyes are just naturally magnetized to her lady bits. Listen Ron, I don't know why you're having trouble admitting you like her. I see the way she makes you laugh and smile, and the fact that you clearly find her attractive is even better!”

“I'm not sure how to… I can't just…”

“What, ask her on a date? Granted, the timing isn't great given that we're in the middle of all sorts of death, destruction and mayhem. But if you wait for a time of peace to come along, you might be waiting forever. You're Harry's best friend- you may never know peace.” She had not expected what had started as lighthearted banter to turn sour so quickly, but the words had escaped from her mouth before she could stop them.

Ron seemed to see the regret in her eyes at her verbiage, and he did not seem shocked by her words. “I know what it is to be in Harry's life” he said softly. “We all do.”

“I'm sorry Ron, I didn't mean it to sound like I was speaking poorly of him. I love Harry… you know that.”

“Yes, and Harry would be the first to agree that loving him often leads to pain, and loss, and misery. But we love him all the same don't we? He teaches us to be better and stronger. He shows us how to be heroes, and that's why we keep fighting. Because Harry isn't the only hero anymore, we all are, even when we try to pretend we're not.”

“Is it okay for heroes to be afraid?” Ginny asked, and suddenly the sarcastic, firecracker persona she put on crumbled and Ron immersed her in a warm, brotherly hug. Ron had never been cool like Bill or Charlie, or funny like the twins, or book smart like Percy. He had undoubtedly been the brother Ginny fought with the most due to their closeness in age, and yet he was secretly her favorite brother. His protectiveness, albeit irritating at times, was well intentioned and he had a genuine goodness about him that he had tried to hide after the war but she had slowly been watching re-emerge as of late. She sniffed and moved away from him. “Is that why you won't ask her on a date? Is it because you're afraid?”

“I suppose so” he admitted, letting his careless playboy act dissolve. “I mean… I guess you're right, I really do like her. I enjoy being around her and I like the way she smells and her odd view on life. She's funny but she's also bloody brilliant and her figure is…”

“I get it Ron, you have a crush!” Ginny laughed, enjoying the sensation of laughter after their fleeting moment of darkness. “So what are you afraid of then?”

“I'm afraid I'm not good enough for her. There's something pure about her, something that even being a prisoner in this hellhole of a house couldn't destroy. But I've been nothing but a slag since the war ended. It was easier for me to play the war hero by going to parties and sleeping with girls than it was for me to accept what the war really meant; what I'd really lost and what I'd have to live with in my memories. It was cowardly and cheap. What good could she see in me?”

“She already sees plenty good in you Ron. I can tell by the way she looks at you, the way she says your name. You're always doubting that you're good enough, you put on this bloody ridiculous act to overcompensate but Luna sees through it, and you're lucky to have that! You're more lucky than you even know.”

“So… what are you saying?” he asked, still not quite understanding her point.

“I'm saying ask her on a date you thick-headed git! Maybe one good thing can come of this phase in our lives. The training and fighting has been a nightmare, but sometimes it takes a nightmare to wake us up.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Luna was neatly dicing up some rowan when Draco suddenly spoke, startling her from a rather nice daydream she was having about playing with a litter of kneazles. After she had offered to help he had given her a long list of instructions and she had gotten to work. Several hours had apparently passed since then and they had not spoken a word to one another.

“Is your headache gone?” he asked, his tone so soft it was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, thank-you. Ever since we started learning Mental Channeling I've been having the most vivid dreams at night and I wake up with these awful headaches.”

“But you haven't been able to do wandless magic” Draco noted, not looking up from the mortar and pestal at which he was laboring away.

“No, and I don't even know that the two are connected. I do feel awful though… not being able to Channel.”

“Join the club” Draco said with an exasperated sigh.

“I don't understand why…”

“According to Harry it's because I don't control my emotions, I just avoid them. You need strong emotions to Channel. Apparently I just don't have any of those.”

Luna paused a moment, looking up from her work. “What I was going to say is, I don't understand why I haven't been able to Channel yet. I do have rather strong emotions, beneath this calm demeanor.”

There was a joking tone to her words and Draco's lips quirked into a half smile. “Well, as Harry frequently and redundantly reminds us all, Channeling is different for everyone. I imagine there's some people who will never be able to Channel, no matter how hard they try.”

Luna frowned, turning her back to him once more and resuming her cutting and dicing with a bit more energy than necessary. What if I never learn? she thought desperately. How can I help my friends if I can't Channel? What if they ask me to leave, what if they realize I'm no good to them, just some tag-a-long?

“I don't think the rowan did anything to deserve that” Draco commented and Luna suddenly realized that she was battering the herb into a paste.

“Sorry” she said softly, and scooping the herbs up on her hands she brought them over to Draco, dropping them into the mortar bowl.

He gestured as though he was immediately going to resume his grinding, but then he stopped. “What's wrong?” he asked, feeling strange asking those caring words. It felt like he was trying out an extreme fashion change and he felt self-conscious and unsure. Still, somehow it felt right. It's what Harry would do he realized and that realization made him feel even more uncertain.

“I'm worried that I'll be one of those people who can't Channel and all I'll get for my efforts are these headaches.”

“You get a headache whenever you try to Channel?” Draco asked, frowning.

“Yes… it's probably just because I'm straining myself.”

“What, like pulling a muscle in your brain?” Draco asked, his tone doubtful. “Did you mention this to Harry?”

“No, I didn't think it would matter.”

“Maybe it doesn't. But maybe it does. Tell me about the dreams you've been having.”

Luna described the wounded lion in the snow, staring into the distance. It sounded rather ridiculous upon the re-telling so she added, “it feels like I'm there, like it's real. But the lion doesn't scare me… actually, he doesn't even seem to realize I'm there.”

Draco stopped what he was doing suddenly and looked at Luna, a strange expression on his face. “Luna, did you ever take divination at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, I rather enjoyed it but I had no knack for it. Why, do you think the dreams mean something?”

“I don't know. I hated the class; I thought Trelawney was a total nut case. And my father always said… well it doesn't matter what he said. Anyways, Harry told me that sometimes Mental Channeling can manifest psychic powers. That was why he believed the dreams I planted in his head; he thought Mental Channeling was giving him the sight.”

“You think I have the sight?” Luna asked, pondering the implications of his words.

“I have no idea. But a lion who bleeds black and its waiting in the snow… Harry is in a cold place and he's wounded… and he's a Gryffindor. And you started having these dreams before he was injured and before he left right?”

Luna nodded, her mind racing at the possibility. How did it not occur to me before that the lion with green eyes might be Harry Potter? Of course, she'd never been psychic before, and she had no reason until now to believe that was a skill that a person could suddenly manifest.

“Luna” Draco said, and hearing her name snapped her away from her reverie. “It could all be a load of shit, but if there's any chance you have psychic abilities we need to figure it out. This could be the break we've been looking for. We've always been a step behind Damon, but this could put us a step ahead. You could save us all.” Luna felt a swelling of hope at the thought. “Go to the library and find out as much as you can about divination and dreams.”

Luna began to race off, but Draco called her back before she could start her ascent of the lethal dungeon steps. “Send Weasley down to help me.”

“Ron?” Luna asked, imagining how very wrong things could go if those two were left to their own devices. The first thing that popped into her mind was Draco lecturing Ron on the proper way to dice herbs and Ron attacking Draco with the knife.

“Fuck no” Draco spat, clearly imagining a very similar outcome. “I meant Ginny.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Hermione woke up in the morning the bed was cold and it was clear that Harry had slipped out a couple hours ago. She sighed and got herself ready for a day for which she wasn't really sure what to expect. After dressing she parted the drab curtains of the tiny room and looked out to the sleepy village of ramshackle homes, which she could barely make out through the sheets of heavy snow that had started to descend. In other circumstances, there might have been something romantic about this scenario. They were shacked up together in a cozy bed and breakfast far removed from the stresses of civilization and surrounded by picturesque mountains and beautiful snow.

Despite all this, the fact that Harry was slowly dying, they were in the process of fighting an immortal enemy, and they were trying to hunt down a group called “the Bloody 65th” there was very little about the scenario that was romantic. She sighed and pressed her face against the glass, feeling the cold chill against her forehead. The window instantly fogged up with her warm breath, and her view of the outside became fully obscured.

What am I doing? she wondered, allowing herself a moment of self doubt in his absence. I spent years denying my feelings for him and it was for a good bloody reason. She hid it well, but most of the time she existed in a state of barely repressed fear and anxiety. She had once told Ron that she'd cease to exist if Harry died; that so much of her had become entangled with him that she didn't know who she would be without him. But now that she knew what it was to be in love with him and have him love her in return it was so much worse. Now that she had seen him gaze passionately at her from his side of the bed, now that she had felt his lips on hers, now that she had witnessed him at his most vulnerable... there was no going back. She was completely consumed in him and he was dying.

I should be looking for a cure, not chasing some bloody army across the arctic tundra. We could go back now… we could find a cure and then run away someplace far away where Damon would never find us. We could grow old together.

She had never been able to picture Harry with grey hair. She had never even been able to picture him as a father, even though she'd always imagined he would be great at it. The issue was, she couldn't get past the feeling that he would die young. Do I always have to be right about every fucking thing?

She closed the curtains in a single frustrated motion. She was stalling, pulling herself together. She needed to be strong for him. She needed to believe they'd find a way to save him. She had always saved him in the past, and she needed to believe it would happen again. That was the only way to keep her sanity in tact. I need to have hope, even when it hurts to hope.

She also needed to remember that there were far bigger things happening than her and Harry. They needed to save the world again, and that goal needed to be paramount to everything else. That didn't mean that she couldn't want everything else, such as a normal romantic weekend away with him, or a stable plan to grow old together… to have kids together.

I'm getting ahead of myself she realized, and deciding she had stalled for long enough she set out to find the man who was her greatest love and her greatest curse.

The bed and breakfast was less like an actual inn and more like someone's dusty home with a room to rent. Thus there was no desk attendant to speak with in regards to inquiring about Harry's whereabouts. Instead she used a unique little spell that she had invented years ago during the horcrux hunt. In fact, it was the first spell she had ever invented on her own. A modified “Point Me” spell for which she had found a way to adapt it to seek Harry's magical signature. She had always been worried about losing track of him, or that he might get all noble and try to run off without her in the night and so she had found a way to track him down. Of course, it only worked if he was within a 5-kilometer radius, which she presumed he currently was.

Sure enough the wand spun in her hand when she tried the spell, and pointed her out the door and into the frigid snow. The village had some sort of charm that kept the streets from amassing too much snow, but as soon as the wand lead her past the edge of town she found herself wading through drifts that went up past her knees. She had to use a few spells to clear the way until she finally came upon a ridge the overlooked a campground settled far below.

The Bloody 65th she thought instinctually, straining to make out the shapes of people walking from tent to tent. From here they looked like ants. She had been shocked to find out that the Bloody 65th was real. Now she had the evidence before her eyes, but it was still a hard concept to accept. The idea of a band of rogue, rough and tough wizards and witches that had been fighting perceived evils for hundreds of years was rather absurd. Then again, the idea of three teenagers continuously foiling the plans of one of the most powerful dark wizards of all times was also rather absurd.

As Hermione scanned the cliff for a way to descend from the ridge where she was standing she was swiftly attacked from behind. She barely heard the crunch of snow behind her before she felt a stunning spell hit her back, giving her the sudden sensation of numbness as the world around her went black.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ginny lacked Luna's photographic memory for all things potions related, but she was a bit less clumsy and Draco had found her able to follow his directions in an adequate manner. After coming down to the dungeon she had shot him a sort of smug look before asking what he wanted her to do. His dastardly male mind thought of requesting some rather obscene things, just to see how she would react, but given the seriousness of the situation he had instead relegated her to the list of tasks that Luna had abandoned. Since that time they had not spoken, which Draco found surprising. He knew very little about Ginny Weasley, but he certainly knew that she was anything but quiet.

“I've finished everything on the list” she said, startling him from his work. He looked up at her and she seemed tired. There were bags under her eyes and a stray piece of hair had managed to find its way loose from her ponytail. He had a strange compulsion to tuck it behind her ear for her, but he supposed that was just his own exhaustion speaking. “What else do you need me to do?”

“I'm actually about to try my first experiment if you'd like to watch” he offered, standing up from his lab stool and cracking his neck loudly.

“I don't know… will it be gross?”

“Hopefully not” he responded with a frown. “And I suppose I could use a hand.”

“Sure” she responded, smiling slightly at his distressed look. “What do you need me to do?” He handed her a beaker of a bright green liquid and a dropper and began to remove his shirt. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“You don't want me to answer that,” he said, matching her sarcasm perfectly. He sat back down on the stool and for the first time she got a really good look at the black poison spreading beneath his skin.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered, her hand drifting to his chest automatically. He did not pull away, remembering when she had healed his bruises and the strange sensation he had experienced. He wondered if he would feel it again, and sure enough he did as soon as her fingertips grazed across his skin. It was like a faint crackling of electricity. “Does it hurt?”

“Occasionally” he answered, realizing how close they were in that moment. He wondered what would happen if he tried to kiss her. He supposed she would hex him mercilessly and then Ron would double that when he found out. You shouldn't be thinking about kissing girls he admonished himself, the voice in his head sounding strangely like Lucius Malfoy. “The potion Pomfrey made has been slowing the effects but every now and then I get a sharp pain and it's hard to breathe. I imagine it will get a lot worse over time.”

“Harry must be experiencing the exact same thing” she pondered and he quickly pulled away from her. Of course that's why she cares. She's thinking about Harry. He was the one who saved her from the chamber, the place where my own father sent her. Why should she ever care about me in comparison to him?

“So, what do you want me to do?” she asked, a tinge of irritation in her tone.

“Use the dropper and put a small drop on the afflicted part of my skin.” She did as commanded and then they both just stood there, not speaking but simply waiting to see if there was any change. At first he felt nothing, but then he experienced a burning sensation that began as a tingling feelings and grew into a feeling of acid burning through his flesh. “It fucking burns” he admitted, gritting his teeth and clenching the edges of the chair.

Ginny quickly grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the potion from his skin, instantly ending his pain. “Not so much as a tiny blister” she admonished. “You're a bit of a wimp.”

“You don't know what it felt like” he retorted in a childish tone very similar to the one he had used back in their Hogwarts days. She smiled in spite of herself. “It doesn't matter though, it didn't work. Yet another thing I've failed at.”

She rested her hand on his bare shoulder and her touch was cool and soft. He felt himself relax a bit and when he turned to look at her he realized that once more they were quite close and once more he imagined what would happen if he tried to kiss her. This is utter foolishness he told himself, still not looking away from her or breaking her contact on his skin. You're acting like a schoolboy with a crush. I may be many things, but a schoolboy is not one of them.

No, Draco was far from innocent and not just in the obvious Death Eater ways. He had lost his virginity to Astoria Greengrass at the end of fifth year after a short and dreadful attempt at dating Pansy Parkinson (who was entirely into women as it turned out). His fling with Astoria had turned into an infatuation of two young, hormonal teenagers trying to figure out how to make things work properly through a series of experiments in every broom closet, empty room and quiet field possible. Then he was tapped by Lord Voldemort to murder Albus Dumbledore, and every pureblood Slytherin family, including the Greengrass family, knew that Draco was marked by Voldemort and that the Malfoy family was being put to the test. Needless to say, Astoria would no longer to glance his way, much less fuck him.

Of course, that didn't mean that there weren't other girls to line up. While the Greengrass family wished to distance themselves from the ongoings of the Death Eaters, there were other families who admired the Malfoys, who saw Lucius and Narcissa as Voldemort's most trusted associates. The reality couldn't be further from the truth, but the whole thing did give Draco a certain appeal for a certain type of girl. There were all sorts of silly rumors about how Voldemort was grooming Draco to become the heir to his legacy, or about how Draco was the “Chosen One” for the dark side of magic.

In the midst of his fear for his family, his angst about having to kill one of the greatest wizards to ever live, and his monumental cloud of self-doubt, Draco found that the easiest escape was a good shag. Thus he had experienced a rather busy sixth year, and an even busier seventh year when everyone in the Slytherin House believed he had bested Albus Dumbledore in a one-on-one duel or some such nonsense.

Then the war had ended and he had gone into hiding. There had been a few admirers who had called upon him over that time, but it had been a while since he'd felt the warm touch of a woman. Maybe that's why I'm reacting this way to Ginny fucking Weasley. I haven't gotten laid in nearly a year!

This cleared his mind and he turned away from her. “Time to get back to work.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione slowly reawakened to a room that was a bit too warm. She could smell burning wood and hear the snap and crackle of flames, and for a moment she thought she was going to burn alive. Slowly she opened her eyes and realized she was lying on a cot in a massive tent that was adorned with flags from various nations. In the middle was a large fire pit, the smoke swirling magically up towards a circular hole at the tent's peak.

Logic instantly told her she'd been captured by the Bloody 65th, and given Harry's history with them she should be in no real danger. Still, Hermione had experienced enough horror in her short life to know that assuming one was safe was always a bad move. Thus she pretended that she was still unconscious when she heard the approaching sound of feet.

“First Punisher shows up and now we've got this unnamed lass spying on us” said a deep male voice with a thick Scottish accent. “We aren't doing a very good job of hiding our camp.”

“He doesn't like to be called that” admonished a soft female voice. The woman's tone was so silky that it almost sounded like a seductive whisper. “And you know he is perfectly adept at doing whatever he pleases. As for the `lass', I'm surprised you don't recognize her.”

“She work with us before?” the Scottish man asked, confused.

“Well she certainly didn't suck your ugly cock” said a harsh tone, clearly American by the accent. “I don't recognize her and I don't know why she's still alive. I thought we were supposed to be keeping our location a secret?”

“You should watch your language, we've got a lady in our presence” the Scot said in a warning tone. For a moment Hermione thought he was referring to her and was afraid that they'd realized she was awake. Then she realized he was talking about the woman with the soft voice.

“Eh, go fuck yourself Bearnard. If Jiao has a problem with my language she can speak up.” The verbiage was clearly a jest at Jiao's soft-spoken nature, but if she was offended she did not indicate so verbally.

“What's got your knickers in a twist?” the Scot (who she know realized was called Bearnard) asked.

“There's a little rumor going around that Punisher is paying us a visit. Why wasn't I informed?”

“I am not required to inform you of anything” Jiao responded, her tone still pleasant and even. “He came to speak with me, not you.”

“Well if that fucker decides to speak with you again, tell him that if I see his ugly face I am going to tear him a new asshole.”

Bearnard laughed hysterically, his laughter a booming tone that seemed to shake the walls of the tent. “Oh, is that so Jay? I'll go find him and tell him myself. I'm sure he'll be shaking in his boots at the very thought of the likes of you squaring up with him. Have you already forgotten why we call him Punisher? Do you remember all those people he killed, how he severed their hearts and...”

“Shut your fucking mouth Bearnard, or else I'll….”

“Or else you'll what?” asked a calm voice that Hermione instantly recognized. Her eyes snapped open and for the first time she gazed upon the faces of those who she had been listening to. Jiao was a tall and elegant Chinese woman with jet-black hair pulled back in long ponytail that reached her hips. Bearnard was a massive hulk of a man with a thick red beard and a crooked nose. Jay was even larger with a neck as wide as Hermione's torso and a clean shaved skull. All of them had turned to look at their newest guest, who was none other than Harry Potter.

“This is what I was trying to tell you before” Jiao sighed, a slight look of mischief crossing her smooth features. “Our guest here is Hermione Granger, close friend and associate of Harry Potter, whom you all know as Potter the Punisher.”

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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22. Chapter 22: Blood and Snow

Author's Note: So… a million apologies for really slacking on this story. Thank-you so much to those of you who keep reading anways! I would love to hit 200 reviews so if you're still hanging in there please R&R! I estimate we're 3-5 chapters from the end.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

CHAPTER 22: Blood and Snow

“If you knew I was dying would it change you?” -Manchester Orchestra

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Potter the Punisher? Hermione thought to herself, scoffing at the absurdity of the phrase. Yet she kept back her skeptical scowl as she suddenly recalled Bearnard's description of “The Punisher”; Do you remember how he tore those people limb for limb, how he severed their hearts…

Harry had made it clear that he did not want her to come here and he had obviously been hiding something about his past. She had known that Harry had killed others besides Voldemort; she had seen the pain behind his eyes when she healed him and on the rare occasion (usually when firewhiskey was involved) he would mention the feeling of blood on his hands. She had known he had killed but he clearly took no pleasure in it. But now she wondered just how deadly he had become. For the first time she wondered how well she really knew the man she loved.

When Jiao had called him by that silly nickname Harry had cut his gaze away, suddenly becoming fascinated by the fire that glowed at the center of the tent. A moment passed and then he spoke, his emerald eyes fixing themselves on the American called Jay with a deadly look. “I suggest you find another place to be Jay” he said calmly. “I have business to discuss with Jiao.”

Jay tightened his jaw, a look of fury crossing his rough features. And then everything happened at once. Jay reached for the wand holstered at his side, his mouth forming the words to a curse as his hand moved at an impossibly fast speed. Yet, for however fast the hulking man was, the spry Harry Potter was even faster. In a gesture so miniscule it could barely be perceived, Harry tapped his fingers against the side of his leg and Jay's wand was torn from his hands, his body flying through the air and landing heavily on a wooden chair, smashing the offending piece of furniture to bits. Jay returned to his feet shakily, his face aghast as Harry carelessly twirled the stolen wand in his hand.

“Run along now or I'll snap it” Harry warned, gently bending the ten inch twig. Jay's face contorted as though he had a few choice words to share, but seeing how far back Harry was proceeding to bend his wand, he swallowed his words and stormed from the tent. Harry pocketed the wand and flicked his hand in the direction of the chair, which almost instantly reassembled itself.

He's getting powerful Hermione realized, and she wondered how much of his power was being taken from Riddle's soul, which she knew was hanging from the pendant around Harry's neck, despite behind hidden beneath his jacket. Suddenly she was quite frantic to find a way to separate Harry from his morbid piece of jewelry.

“How did you do that?” Jiao asked, a note of genuine surprise and alarm in her quiet voice.

“That's what I was here to talk to you about” Harry said, finding a seat by the fire and gesturing for Hermione to join him. “You left me waiting in your tent for too long, I got impatient.”

Jiao sat across from them so that her pretty face was partially obscured by the flames. Harry suddenly found himself thinking about Anna, whom Riddle had burned alive, and so he closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. Then he told Jiao about Damon and The Cradle and Channeling. She sat patiently through it all, listening carefully.

“So you are asking for our help” she said when all was done being discussed.

“I can train the Bloody 65th to Channel. Not everyone will be able to learn, but I'm guessing a lot of them will be good at it. Damon has been training his army for decades; we stand no chance against his Children unless we unite forces.”

“It is not your place to make this request” Jiao said in a way that sounded like a warning. “The Bloody Armies have always dealt directly with government officials. We cannot make a move on another territory without the sanction of the governing body.”

Harry looked grimly determined, leaning forward in his chair. “Listen, anyone could be working for Damon. Hell, someone if your own camp could be part of his cult. I took a risk coming here to speak to you because I trust your wisdom.”

“You came here because you need help and you know I owe you a favor” she countered, her gaze not wavering from his.

“That may be true” he admitted with a shrug. “But what's important is that you trust the gravity of the situation. If you bring this to the Ministry into this, dozens of people will know about our plans and then we'll lose the element of surprise. We need to turn the tables on him so he'll stop getting the best of us. He's already wounded me once, I won't let it happen again.”

“You're wounded?” Jiao asked, and Hermione was not surprised to see a look of concern in the woman's eyes. Harry has that effect on people.

Hermione seized Jiao's surprise as an opportunity. “He's not just wounded, he's dying. If you are hoping that he will save us all again, your hope might be irrational. Damon is perfectly positioned to take on the world, and if he finds out that Harry is dying he'll probably just wait until Harry is dead and attack again, at which point nobody will be able to match Damon's power. Unless we can bring the fight to Damon soon, and catch him off guard, the wizarding world will undergo some drastic changes.”

“Perhaps the wizarding world needs to undergo some drastic changes” Jiao suggested, and Hermione nearly gasped at the audacity of the suggestion that they let a mad man run wild. “You are both familiar with evil, death and suffering. I myself have seen plenty of it in the ten years since I joined the Bloody 65th. Magic is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but it is also dangerous. There will always be those who abuse the power of magic, as there have always been those who fight for the side of good. But what if one day we cannot fight any longer? What if the politicians drown all the heroes in a sea of bureaucratic nonsense? Who will stand up and fight then?

It may sound paranoid, but we all know that it's a day that has been rapidly approaching. The Bloody Armies were forbidden to help when Voldemort rose to power, both times! And Miss Granger, I have followed your career carefully. I know the struggles you have faced to secure equality for magical creatures, squibs and others who are persecuted by the system. They do not make it easy for heroes to save the day. Maybe it is time for the system sees drastic change.”

“Why did you follow my career?” Hermione asked, side-tracked by this strange comment.

Jiao offered a wry smile. “We wanted to recruit you.”

“Me?” Hermione sputtered, baffled. “I'm not a soldier.”

“I'm quite sure that many would disagree. In fact, from my position I'd say you started training for war before even I did.”

Hermione had never really thought of it that way. She had never seen what she had done to help Harry as being any sort of training- she had only been trying to keep him alive. “Why did you change your mind about recruiting me?”

“I'm sure you can guess” Jiao said, her eyes drifting to Harry, who had been sitting silently. He was afraid I would say yes, that I would join them Hermione realized. He was afraid I'd get hurt. Yet as he finally met her gaze, she realized it was more than that. He was afraid it would change me.

Hermione's emotions ranged from feeling irate that Harry would speak for her, to hurt that he'd think she'd ever choose such a lifestyle, to comforted to know that he had been trying to protect her. She pushed all these emotions away though, using the meditative techniques she had learned in training. This is a conversation for another time.

Hermione took a deep breath and tactfully shifted the conversation back to the most important topic at hand; Damon. “It may be true that there has been a lot of corruption in magic. But I'm sure you've also seen much good. You called me a soldier, and I suppose that's true in some ways. I've seen many good men and women die at the hands of Voldemort, and now we've lost more lives to Damon. Those were horrible sacrifices, but I'd like to believe they were noble ones. For every Gellert Grindelwald there is an Albus Dumbledore. To every Tom Riddle there is a Harry Potter. It's about keeping the balance. If we roll over and let Damon take everything, the balance will be destroyed. If you let that happen it will dishonor the sacrifices of every man and woman who has died fighting by your side.”

To Hermione's great surprise there was a glimmer of tears in Jiao's eyes and then she blinked and they were gone. “I will think on what you have said” Jiao said, her voice once more a whisper as her eyes reflected the dancing flames of the fire that sat between them.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ron hadn't spent so much time in a library since the days when Hermione would drag him and Harry there for endless hours of studying, during which Ron mostly napped. Despite this, he felt oddly less bothered than he used to be by being buried in books. Perhaps it was because he had grown up considerably. Or perhaps it was because Luna was infinitely more fun to study with than Hermione and Harry had been.

Luna had a knack for pointing out hilarious and odd sentences whenever she discovered them in one of the dusty old tomes they'd been reading through. For example, Ron's ribs were still aching from moments earlier when she had come across the statement, “Wizards and witches who spend ample time suspended upside down, and who refrain from sexual activity may be more likely to experience premonitions.” Luna's prompt response to that was “I suppose that if you spend all your days hanging upside down there aren't a lot of people who will want to join you for `sexual activities' anyhow.”

Between Luna's discoveries, her proclivity for snacking while researching, and her rather adorable mannerisms, Ron found himself to be actually enjoying the studying process. The dark shadow of the seriousness of their work still loomed above, but somehow he felt that if they worked together they would be okay, they would figure it out.

There was still one remaining factor of concern and that was Luna's ongoing headaches. She had refused to take anything to stop the headaches today because she thought it was possible that they would trigger some sort of psychic vision. Ron felt less certain, as there had not been any information to suggest such a correlation. In fact, they had found little to nothing of use thus far. Having taken divination years before Ron was not terribly surprised- it was a rather weak form of magic.

Ron closed the book in front of him and reached for another while simultaneously stuffing a cookie into his mouth. It was at this exact moment that Luna stood up rather abruptly with a look of determination so fierce that he nearly choked. “I need to try Mental Channeling again.”

“All it does is give you a headache” Ron argued, trying to swallow the food in his mouth.

“But it also triggered these visions” she reminded him, already walking out of the library, forcing him to follow her in suit. She was acting in a way he had never seen before; her usual cerebral calm abandoned.

“We don't even know that they are visions!” Ron argued, grabbing her shoulder to stop her so that she was facing him. “You could just be having vivid dreams as the result of stress or something. Hell, the other night I had a dream that Malfoy was teaching me to dance the tango while Harry played the guitar. Stress can do terrible things to the mind.”

His joke seemed to break through to her, but only for a moment. “Maybe they are just dreams, but I need to know for certain. It's the only shot we have at finding Damon.”

“You're putting too much pressure on yourself” Ron warned as she made her way into the vast, empty ballroom that was used for training.

“I'm doing what needs to be done. Besides, if something goes wrong I'll have you here to watch out for me.”

Ron was flattered by her vote of confidence but he was quite sure that if she had some sort of episode he would have no clue what to do. Still, it was clear that her mind was set and so he sat with her on the cold marble floor as she closed her eyes and tried to focus her emotions into a levitation spell. A full hour passed in this manner and while she exhibited no signs of wandless magic he could see from her facial expressions that was experiencing a great deal of pain.

Finally he was about to force her to stop when she fell backwards, convulsing on the floor as though having a seizure. Ron quickly rushed to her side, holding her in his arms, unsure what else to do as a feeling of panic swept over him.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry and Hermione had made the trek back to their cramped little inn room in silence. There was a million things she wanted to ask him but his mood was even more frigid than the tundra surrounding them. Thus she waited until they were situated in the room, winter clothing removed and dripping from the pegs by the doors as the snow that clung to them slowly melted.

Harry's hair was even more erratic than usual after he removed his cap, and he stood looking out the window, not speaking. Despite the fact that she was burning with the desire to speak to him she was also quite stubborn and so she waited until he broke the silence first. “I hope that Jiao gets back to us soon on her decision. We don't have time to be wasting.”

“You mean YOU don't have time to be wasting. Damon is probably deep in hiding at this point and we could spend years chasing after him if need be. But you don't have years.”

“Thank-you for reminding me about that” he said sharply, turning away from the window. She bit down on her lip, feeling guilty for her attack, but it had gotten the desired response. It had gotten him out of his shell that he was hiding in.

“What was all of that about Harry? Potter the Punisher? I knew you had secrets after the war, that you were assigned all sorts of dangerous missions but the way they talked about you, and they way you attacked that brutish one, Jay…”

“There's a very long history there” Harry said, his eyes flashing at hearing his much despised nickname.

“So let's start with one question at a time” Hermione offered, this time her tone calm. She managed to get him to sit down on the bed beside her. “Why didn't you let them approach me about joining the Bloody 65th?”

He sighed heavily. There were so many reasons he hadn't wanted her to come with him and this was one of them. He didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to head down that road which would inevitably lead to her learning about every horrible thing he had done. Still, the way she was looking at him now; a mixture of hurt, confusion and anticipation… he could not deny her. She's manipulating me into talking to her about this he realized. He recognized the design of her manipulation; first enticing him into an emotional outburst and then soothing and calming him. She knows me too well. She knows how to push all my buttons.

“I didn't want you to see the things I'd seen or have to do the things I'd done. But mostly it was selfish- you were my best friend. You still are. I didn't want you back in the way of danger.”

“But you had to have known I'd decline!” she protested. “You know me better than anyone, how could you think I'd have left my work with the Department of Magical Law to go back to camping out in tents and combatting evil?”

Harry half smiled at this but there was a deep sadness in his gaze. “I knew you would decline. But first you would have heard them out, because that's what you do. And the more you learned about them and their work, the more you would have learned about me. About the things I did when I was with them. About how I got that stupid fucking nickname, Potter the Punisher.”

“I told you I wouldn't judge you. You know that I love you, so tell me Harry. Tell me about what happened because I can see it's eating you up inside.”

He ran his hands threw his impossibly messy hair, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed down at the floor. “I told you that the Bloody army had contacted me because they were chasing down demons. The thing about demons is that they are just regular wizards and witches who made a terrible choice. So many people fear death, and they don't always realize the price they are paying to avoid it. There's always a price to be paid.”

His hand instinctively touched the place on his chest where Riddle's pendant was hanging beneath his shirt. As always, Hermione squirmed upon seeing him make that gesture, but she bit back her comments. Now was not the time. Harry continued with his story. “Wizards and witches perform a ceremony and their soul becomes destroyed. What that means is that they become an empty shell of existence, a being with no joy or desire except feeding their hunger for magic. They suck the magical energy from any magical being to cross their path. Sometimes, they even try to feed off of muggles. Many muggles have small traces of magical powers, but it's so faint that the process kills them.”

“The demons were running rampant when the Bloody Army contacted me. A greedy, evil bitch named Sophia had been selling manuscripts detailing the process to the sick and dying. When you're so close to death, you'll cling to any hope. She gave them a glimmer of hope for an expensive price and of course she told them nothing about the side effects.”

“At the time when I was contacted, the Bloody Army was in a state of transition. Their leader, Abel, had been killed fighting one of the demons. They're difficult to kill. I was contacted by Jiao who was contending with Jay for control of the army. She was hoping that my knowledge of horocruxes might give me some insight into how to destroy the demons. I was useless in that way, so I did what I could and joined their fight.”

He paused, looking up at her now with a look of pain so poignant in his emerald green eyes that she nearly had to look away. “It turns out there's only one way to kill a demon. You have to perform a rather complex enchantment on a blade and pierce the being through the heart with that same enchanted blade. So that's what I did. I killed dozens of them, stabbing them through the heart as I looked upon their faces. As you know, demons don't have horns or pointed tails or any of that nonsense. They are regular looking people, but their eyes are entirely black and they have this horrible, empty stare. Each time I killed them I gazed into those empty eyes and watched as in the very last moments their souls returned. As their blood dripped down my hands and they took their last breath I was looking into the eyes of a human being- not a monster but a regular fucking human being who had made a bad decision simply because they didn't have all the information.”

Hermione felt a cold chill run through her body and in that moment Harry was worlds apart from her despite sitting only centimeters away. This is what he didn't want me to know about. This is what he has had to carry alone for years now.

“So that's why they call me `Potter the Punisher'” he said with a short, callous laugh. “Because in the end it was me who kept up the killing when the rest of their stomachs turned and they couldn't hold a sword straight. I did what had to be done.”

“You always do” Hermione said, surprised by how soft her voice came out.

“At least that's what I tell myself” he sighed, and now he stood up and found his way back to the window, looking out the fog covered glass as though answers could be seen on the other side. “Sometimes I don't know what the right thing to do is. Sometimes it just all becomes so heavy. And when it's like that… I wish I had just stayed in King's Cross Station with Dumbledore after Voldemort killed me. I wish I had never come back.”

“Don't say that” she responded sharply, and now she was standing as well, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Don't you ever say that. When it all gets too heavy, let me help you hold it up. We'll do it together.”

“What if it's too much? What if it crushes us?”

“Then we'll go down together.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Luna had not moved for a long time. She was so very still and so very cold to the touch that Ron would be certain she was dead if it wasn't for the steady pulse in her wrist and the even rise and fall of her chest. After she had lost consciousness, Ron had screamed for help, but in a house of that size his words were merely an echo traversing all the empty, shadowy spaces. Finally he had gathered her in his arms and taken her to the nearest available bedroom, ensuring that she was living before dashing to the dungeon to retrieve Ginny and Draco. Thrice he had nearly slipped on the slimy steps that spiraled to the potions lab, but his focus was such that he recovered himself with an athletic grace he had not previously known himself capable of.

Draco and Ginny had checked Luna's vitals in a similar manner to what Ron had already done, but there was nothing threatening to be detected, even when they tried some more complex attempts at detecting the cause of her state. It was as if she was in a very deep sleep, from which they could not waken her. Ginny had sent an owl off to Pomfrey, but she was amidst some sort of flu epidemic at Hogwarts and she asked that if Luna was not knocking on death's doorstep they wait another day. In the meantime, Draco and Ginny had taken up the research that Luna and Ron had previously abandoned, hoping to find some link between premonitions and the fair-haired girl's recent loss of consciousness.

For Ron's part he simply sat and waited. When she wakes up, I'm going to ask her on a date. A proper date. He had never been on a “proper date” before. With Hermione their relationship had been born from the fear and chaos of wartime and thus it quickly leapt from a flirtatious friendship to a full-blown relationship that primarily hinged on fighting. They had been fights cause by his jealousy or her judgments, but either way they spent most of the time either fighting or making up, and as a result there had been none of those quaint first dates that Ron had heard tales of. After Hermione it had just been a string of one night stands for him, and so he had never really tried to simply date a girl. He wanted to try with Luna though. He wanted to take her somewhere nice, get dressed up, show up with flowers for her, make small talk and laugh over a glass of wine, split a dessert and then walk hand in hand afterwards.

A small strand of her blonde hair had fallen across the closed lids of her eyes, and he gently pushed it away. She could make me a better man. She could make me happy, and I think maybe I could make her happy to. In that moment Ron realized that he wasn't sure of the last time that he had thought about what it meant to be happy. Happiness had always seemed to dwell at the bottom of a bottle, or between the legs of the next girl who smiled his way and called him a war hero. But it had never been happiness, not truly. It had been a diversion. Real happiness took work, and he hadn't wanted to struggle at anything. Now that was changing and it was a queer sensation.

As he pondered this, Luna's eyes fluttered open and she took in a sharp breath. “I know where to find the wolf.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry's dreams were clouded by memories of warm blood dripping from his hands as he pushed his blade through heart after heart of the demons who tried to attack him. He dreamt of the way the blade felt as it scraped against bone, of the way the blood poured from the wound in timing with the slow beating of their dying hearts. He dreamt of the final look in their eyes as they died; confusion, sorry, regret… fear. And then he dreamt of Draco Malfoy.

They were back in the bathroom of Hogwarts after their bloody confrontation in sixth year, but they weren't young as they once were. Draco was lying in the water bleeding from the sectumsempra curse, but this time instead of an invisible sword conjured by his wand, Harry was holding an actual sword in his hand. When he looked down at it he realized it was Gryffindor's sword, gleaming with the bright ruby blood of the boy who lay dying below. Harry fell to his knees, the sword loosening from his hand and clanging against the stone floors with a loud rattle that echoed through the room. “I'm sorry” he said to Draco as he watched his life pour from his body, seeping into the water around him.

“No Harry, I'm the one who is sorry” Draco said, his voice calm and flat.

It was then that Harry felt the sharp pain of a million knives piercing his body, and when he looked down once more he had the stab wounds in his chest and torso identical to those on Draco. He pressed his hands to them, trying to stop the blood but it was too late. He fell into the water, his body lying close to Draco as he died. “At least we won't die alone.”

Harry awoke, jolted by the pain still lingering in his chest. He put his hand there, looking for the blood he knew would be spilling out, but there was no wound. The poison is getting worse he realized and as his eyes adjusted to the faint light of early morning he saw that the stain beneath his skin had grown larger than the day before. Before he could have time to ponder this, the door popped open and Hermione entered, fully dressed for the day, a small plate of breakfast in hand. As always, her observation was keen and nearly instantaneous and she saw the pain in his expression and the darkness spreading across his chest. There was a look of deep sadness in her brown eyes, but it was gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared.

“We should send a message to Malfoy” she said, diverting her gaze to the plate in her hand as she took a seat in the nearby armchair. “It would be good to see if he's had any progress.”

Harry sat up and pulled a shirt on over his head. He wasn't hungry but he somehow felt that if he ate he would appear stronger and healthier, so he snagged a slice of bacon from her plate and munched on it. “We should check to see if the rest have had any progress in tracking down Damon as well. But we need to be careful… if any of our communications are intercepted we could be bringing danger down on everyone involved.”

Hermione responded with a sly grin. “Why Harry Potter, did you honestly think I'd travel all this way with you and not have any method for phoning home?”

He laughed. “How stupid of me.”

“Yes indeed” she jested with a wink. She reached into her purse and extracted a cell phone.

“When you said `phone home' I didn't expect it to be literal. I doubt we have any service out here.”

“We certainly don't. Which is why I charmed this to link to only one phone, which Ginny is in possession of. It can send text messages, but I didn't have time to figure out how to enchant it to allow phone calls to be carried over vast distances. Had I a little more time to explore the principles of the Weasley's extendable ear I might have…”

“You're brilliant” is all he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he headed to the loo. “Send a message to them then. And after that we head back to the camp. Jiao should have her mind made up by now in regards to helping us. And if she doesn't, well, we'll just have to give her a push.”

Locked away in the privacy of the bathroom, Harry was able to have a moment to think. He removed his shirt and studied his ailment in the mirror. Little tendrils were starting to spread out into the surrounding veins and he knew it was a matter of time before the thing started moving down his arm and towards his heart. He splashed ice-cold water on his face, as though it might wake him up from the nightmare that was his life. As he pulled his shirt back on he thought of his dream, of Draco dying beside him. Please find a cure he thought, though he was unsure if a cure was even what he deserved.

Together they made the trek to the camp of the Bloody 65th. Harry had originally hoped to keep Hermione from the camp, but she knew his secret now and had accepted it with far more grace than he had expected. He wondered if he could be so forgiving, and in that moment he had the realization that perhaps that was why he had eventually been able to see past Draco Malfoy's endless faults and form an alliance. I want to believe that redemption is possible.

They found Jiao in her tent, which was far less smoky than the one they had been in the day before. In fact, it was rather immaculate, with perfect white walls, plush oriental carpets and a few sparse pieces of very asymmetrical furniture. In her whisper-like voice she offered them tea, which they both accepted. Then she began to speak, “I have decided to break the code of the Bloody Armies and take up your cause against Damon. I do however, have one condition.”

“Naturally” Harry responded in a dry tone.

“I will need both of your help in finding a way to deal with the ijiraq. Just this morning we received a report from another village of four missing children. I believe these attacks will grow worse, and it will happen soon.”

“We don't have the time” Harry said, his teeth clenched.

“I am sorry to hear you are dying Harry” Jiao said, her tone genuine. “But we will not abandon these people to take up another cause. You will just have to find a way to stall death yet again.”

Harry sighed in exasperation. It certainly wasn't that he didn't want to help, especially since there were innocent, defenseless children involved. He just felt uncertain that the consequences wouldn't be far worse if he died before they had a chance to take on Damon. Then again, there had been no word from Ginny on their progress with finding Damon, so there was no real rush anyways.

He looked to Hermione, his constant companion in making difficult decisions since childhood. It only took a single gaze to know her mind. “Yes, we will help you.”

“Good” Jiao responded shortly. “We hunt tonight, so be ready.”

Harry nodded, taking this as his cue to exit and with Hermione by his side they once more stepped into the freezing cold of the outdoors. The cold bit at his cheeks and ears, but a moment later it was lessened and he realized Hermione had cast a warming spell around them with wandless magic. He grinned at her then, marveling at her brilliance whilst simultaneously aching at the sight of how beautiful she looked as the snow fell gently in her brown hair and her cheeks were red with the cold.

He suddenly remembered his nightmare; the blood, death. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and felt selfish for loving her, for needing her love to feel redeemed for the monster he had become. This came upon him as a pain worse than the poison that ran through his blood; it was a realization he couldn't shake.

It was Jay who interrupted this moment by hollering “PUNISHER!” with the might of an angry beast recently released from its cage.

“He's bloody relentless” Harry sighed, looking less than concerned as the behemoth of a man came charging towards them in the snow, a small collection of supporters at his heels. Hermione was suddenly reminded of Draco Malfoy as child, with his two lackeys Crabb and Goyle. Only Draco Malfoy had been a scrawny boy, not a 300 pound mass of muscle.

“You may have bested me with some cheap magic trick yesterday, but I demand a real battle, a battle of fists, man to man.” After saying this Jay spit in Harry's direction, a scowl of pure hatred on his face.

“You know the rules” Harry said casually, easily dodging Jay's saliva. “If I accept this, and you lose, you have to leave the Bloody 65th forever.”

“Yes I know them. And now it's clear you know them too. I will beat your pretty boy face into a pulp that your little girlfriend won't even be able to recognize. Then you'll have to go home and I'll never spend another second thinking about what a piece of shit you are.”

Hermione wondered what Harry could have possibly done to make Jay hate him so ferociously, and she also wondered if Harry was suicidal enough to accept the challenge. Certainly Harry could best the man in a duel without breaking a sweat, but in hand to hand combat…

“I accept” Harry said and there was roar from those who were around to hear, all thirsty for blood. They're animals she thought to herself, disgusted by their behavior. How could he have worked and lived with them? But when she caught Harry's gaze there was something there she had not expected. She had expected dread, or at the very least, reluctance, but instead he seemed excited, the same gleam in his eye that he had once reserved for catching the snitch.

“What's going on with you?” she asked as he stalked away towards the main tent at the center of the campground.

“Like I said, there's a lot of history there” he mumbled as he pushed his way into the tent and they were suddenly plunged into a darkness that was in stark contrast to all the snow outside.

“Care to explain? That man looks like he could snap you in half…”

“He can't” Harry said. “He won't.”

“Is this just some game to you? The Harry I know would never revel in a petty fight with some bully...”

“This isn't the Harry you know” he snarled, and suddenly she caught a glimpse of someone she had thought was long gone.

“Is Riddle affecting you still? I told you that the pendent was a bad idea.”

As soon as she mentioned the pendant he patted his chest softly, making sure it was still there beneath his clothes, carefully nestled against his heart. “This isn't about Riddle. It's about Jay. When I came here, the previous leader of the Bloody Army, Abel had just been killed trying to battle the Demons. The Bloody Armies take a vote to find a new leader, but there was great division in the camp between those who supported Jiao taking over, and those who supported Jay. I wasn't technically a soldier, but I made my support for Jiao known. She was the one who had contacted me for help and she seemed intelligent.”

“You had feelings for her?” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling strangely jealous of the beautiful dark-haired woman. It was not a feeling she liked.

“No” Harry responded, almost scoffing at the thought. “At least, not in the way you're insinuating. I supported her because she's a powerful witch and a dedicated warrior, and we had something in common though I didn't realize it at that time.”

“What?” she asked, feeling embarrassed to be acting like an envious girlfriend amidst everything else that was happening.

“She was in love with someone she could never be with. Deep down I sympathized with that, even if I hadn't recognized those feelings yet.”

“Who?”

“You obviously” he responded, confused.

“No, who was she in love with that she couldn't have?”

“Abel. Jiao is rarely sentimental, but she told me that she had been in love with him but never told him before he died.”

Hermione felt a swelling of sympathy for Jiao. It was odd, but if it hadn't been for Riddle manifesting Harry, they may never have admitted their feelings to each other. Would I have realized those feelings and told him if he was dying? She wasn't sure, but she doubted it. It would have been too painful to admit those feelings and lose him. In fact, it would have been just as painful as it already was. “So you supported Jiao” Hermione concluded after a beat. “Can't say I blame you, Jay doesn't seem like a terribly nice or rational human being.”

“Once I vocalized my support for Jiao a lot of people swung their vote to her side, and Jay has been chomping at the bit to fight me ever since.”

“That doesn't mean you have to fight him” Hermione retorted sharply. “I saw the look in your eye when you beat him in that duel the other day. You liked seeing him struggle. I've never seen you like that.”

“Which is why I didn't want you to come with me” he said coldly. “You pretend like you can accept who I am and the things I've done, but you can't.”

“So what, you'd rather I'd leave than tell you that you're wrong? Tell you that you're better than this nonsense? Just because you've lived a violent life doesn't mean you have to enjoy the violence…”

“Yes, I do want you to leave” he said and the expression on her face appeared as though he'd hit her. “It was a mistake you coming here. I may not like being called Potter the Punisher, but it's part of who I am, and maybe it's not a part of me I'm ready to part with. Go home Hermione.”

She felt tears sting at her eyes but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “Now you're just being a bully to everyone. Fine Harry, don't listen to anything I have to say. If you don't think you need me, I'm gone.”

She turned her back sharply and walked angrily for the door, waiting for him to call her back, to apologize. But he said nothing; he simply sat there looking moody, and so for good measure she snapped her fingers and the chair beneath him broke, leaving him sprawling in his ass.

As she disappeared into the white snow beyond the tent's flap Harry realized he should be impressed by that display of wandless magic. But instead he simply felt depressed.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“What wolf?” Ron asked Luna once his skin had stopped crawling. There was something awfully creepy about a comatose person awakening with a sudden cryptic declaration.

Luna sat up and Ron laid a soothing hand on her shoulder, expecting her to have a splitting headache, but she smiled at him, apparently healthy as ever. After a moment she recanted her dream to him.

Once more Luna had tried to stop the lion's bleeding but as before, she couldn't touch or affect him. Her hand passed right through him when she tried, and his green eyes continued to stare at the horizon, uncaring of the black blood that now matted his fur and soaked the snow beneath him. She followed his gaze to where the icy ground met the blue sky in a thin line.

“What is he waiting for?” she wondered, and once more he roared loudly but this time she was prepared. Shortly after, the distant howl of a wolf followed, and she kept her eyes fixed on the horizon until a moment later a snowy white wolf appeared, its eyes a beautiful clear blue. As it came closer she realized she had nothing to fear from this predator and this time she was able to touch the wolf's fur, gently petting its head.

A moment later the wolf transformed in front of her stood a wizard with white hair and the same beautiful blue eyes. He wore robes of pure white and had a kind smile, but his gaze spoke of grave concern. “You can see me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, I've been having this dream… but it's more than a dream isn't it?”

“He's been calling to me” the wizard said, gesturing to the lion, which still gazed towards the horizon as though the wizard was not there. “He can't see me though. I don't think he knows he's doing it.”

“He needs help. He's dying.”

“I see that” he commented, looking at the matted black blood that was now pooling in the snow beneath the lion. “He must be sending out a psychic call for help without even realizing it. You and I heard it because we share a gift.”

“You have psychic abilities?”

“I used to, back when I was a wizard. Nowadays I spend my time as a wolf.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm hiding of course.”

“From who?”

“The man who sent poison into my peaceful home. The man whose ambition outweighs reason. The man who would kill me if he knew I was still alive, still carrying so many secrets.”

“Damon” Luna realized. “How do you know him?”

“I was born in The Cradle, the very place where magic was created. Growing up, Damon was used as a cautionary tale; a man you should never become. He had chosen to use his powers for immortality, and it was known he was slowly going mad…. losing his soul bit by bit. I was just a young man when he let the monster you call Riddle into our nest. I had chosen to leave the Cradle to explore the world, and while I was gone everyone I knew and loved died; burned to death. I knew Damon's ambition wouldn't stop there, despite his egregious mistake in trusting Riddle. I knew that if he ever discovered I had lived he would see me as a threat and seek to kill me.”

“Why have you hidden when you could have fought him?”

“I've never been a match for him. My psychic powers are great, but I cannot Channel magic as he and so many others could. I hid, but now I am being called from hiding and I have much information that can be shared to help the lion take Damon down.”

“You will need to hurry up about sharing what you know” Luna warned. “He doesn't have much longer before the poison kills him.”

“I know. But I can't speak with you here. It is possible Damon or one of his followers may be listening. Meet me in the place where the man you admire most was born.”

She tried to puzzle out this riddle but the world was fading from around her quickly. “What is your name?” she called out as the dream had nearly gone black.

In a slight whisper she heard him respond, “Adrian.”

“So… where is he then?” Ron asked once Luna had finished recounting her odd tale.

“Mould-on-the-Would” she said matter-of-factly.

“Where Dumbledore was born” Ron ascertained and Luna looked surprised. “Trust me, I know a lot more about Dumbledore than you might imagine. How would this wolf… er, this guy Adrian know that you most admire Dumbledore?”

Luna laughed. “Did you forget the part where he's psychic?”

Ron looked sheepish but he had a grin on his face nonetheless. “Luna, listen, there was something I meant to ask you…”

But before he could get the words out Ginny was bustling through the door. “Oh good Luna, you're awake. Hermione's back, we need to talk to her.”

“What about Harry?” Ron asked, confused.

“He's not with her” Luna said, her voice dreamy and distant as though she were reading Ginny's mind. And in fact, she was.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

After Harry had fixed the chair that Hermione had decided to break, he was left with nothing to do but wallow in self-pity. Why did you say those things to her? You're a bloody stupid git, the Dursley's were right, you don't deserve to be loved.

Yet even as he chastised himself, he knew why he'd done it. He hadn't expected his agreement to brawl with Jay to start a fight between him and Hermione, but once it had ignited he saw it as a way out. A chance to push her away.

He knew he was trying to be noble, and he also knew that being noble never got him anywhere. But that morning he had seen the pain in her eyes as he told her about the things he had done. She hadn't judged him, but in some small way she had pitied him, and pity was something he could not stand at this moment. I'm dying he thought to himself for the thousandth time that day. And with that thought it all came crumbling down on him. He regretted everything; from becoming her best friend, to allowing her to kiss him at Malfoy Manor, making love after the battle with Damon. He regretted it bitterly, in a way that made him want to rip everything around him to shreds.

I let her love me, and I let myself love her. And now I'm dying.

He buried his face in his hands and rocked back and forth. He was torn between wanting to chase her down and beg her forgiveness and wanting to never see her again. He was torn between selfishness and selflessness and he wasn't sure which was which anymore. He heard Dumbledore's voice in his mind saying, “Death is but the next great adventure to the well organized mind” and he nearly sobbed.

“I'm not ready” he panted, feeling that he might get sick. He heard Draco's voice now, his tone ringing with accusation as he said, “you told me that death wasn't so bad.”

“I'm not ready” was all he could say, and slowly he pushed away all of the emotions built up within him and he stared into the fire for a good long time before he heard a rustling at the tent's entrance. He turned quickly, hoping it would be Hermione returning to set him straight, to remind his of all they had agreed to do together as a team. We can't do this next part together he thought remorsefully. In the end, we all die alone.

It wasn't Hermione who was approaching him, but Jiao, whose face was calm and gave off no indication of how she felt. Yet as she got closer he could read her eyes and there he saw disappointment. “Jay is ready for you.”

“Good” was all Harry said, moving away from the warmth of the fire and towards the frozen outdoors.

“Don't get me wrong, I'll be glad to see Jay gone from the Bloody 65th. But this challenge is so uncivilized. Abel always spoke of wishing to strike it from the rule books.”

“It's what Jay wants” Harry shrugged as they trudged through the snow towards the crowd of chanting men and women, all eager for a fistfight between the beast that was Jay and the legend that was Potter the Punished.

“What do you want?” Jiao asked, her voice barely audible above the roar.

“When has that ever mattered?” he growled, and with a shove he burst through the crowd and into the center of the ring where Jay stood shirtless, his hot flesh sending waves of steam up into the frigid air. The crowd let up a deafening cheer, but it was nothing like the cheering he'd once lived for in the Quidditch pitch. These were blood thirsty cries for pain; the same sort of chanting that gladiators once slew each other to the rhythm of. If it's blood they want, it's blood they'll get. I'm good at that.

Jay was yelling some garbled nonsense at him but Harry didn't care. All he felt was his heart beating in his chest and all he heard were muffled screams. Jay came towards him with a powerful swing and Harry ducked it easily, rocketing a punch into Jay's side that was so hard a snap of ribs could be heard over the crowd's roar. Jay doubled over, staggering to regain his defense and Harry simply waited, like a lion toying with its prey. With an expression of utter hatred Jay drove forward towards Harry, but his movements were clumsy and his injury severe. Harry easily sidestepped him, but not before moving his palm in a quick upward thrusting motion, breaking Jay's nose in a fountain of blood.

Hardly able to breath Jay fell to his knees choking as he cupped the hot red liquid that spilled from his face in his hands. Harry moved in now to end the fight. With a hard kick to Jay's bare chest the hulk of a man went over and crashed to the snowy ground like a tree trunk. He tried to make one last desperate grapple at his opponent, but Harry had him pinned down quickly and with a few deftly delivered blows to the head, Jay laid unconscious, splayed out in the snow as the blood spread all around him.

Wiping the blood from his own hands Harry moved away, hardly noticing the silence that had fallen on everyone around him. He retreated back to the tent, and there he sat until it was time for the real hunt.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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23. Chapter 23: Let It Burn

Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews! This is something of a shorter chapter than usual, but it seemed like the right place to leave off before I move into the final chapters of the story. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 23: Let It Burn

When Ron arrived in the dark and dreary parlor of Malfoy Manor it was to find his best female friend standing alone, covered in soot. It would have been comical except for the fact that she was crying. While he had come to accept that he wasn't IN love with her, it didn't mean that he didn't love her still, and seeing her distressed immediately tugged at his heartstrings. Uncaring of the fact that she was filthy he immediately encompassed her in massive hug, and this amount of contact seemed to shatter whatever resolve she had remaining and she fell against him in a heap of sobs.

After a beat Ginny was there as well, and Luna came too, all three of them encompassing her in a group hug. Draco seemed to be absent, and for this Ron was glad. This is an issue that needs to be handled by friends, not selfish prats.

“What is it?” Ron asked after they had lead her to the stiff sofa. “Is Harry okay?”

This seemed to be the wrong question as it ignited a fresh wave of tears, each carving a smeary trail down her cheeks as they cut through the residual ash from the floo network. “Harry is fine… he's taking care of things.”

“It doesn't seem like he's fine with the way you're crying” Ron said skeptically and Ginny nudged him in the ribs.

“Did something happen Hermione?” Ginny asked, her tone tactful as she sat down beside the older girl.

“He told me to leave” Hermione said, the tears suddenly gone, her despair replaced by an empty stare. “He told me he didn't need me.”

“That's bull!” Ron yelled, enraged. “Why would he say something so stupid to you, you're the one who saved him when…” Ron never got the chance to recant which instance of Hermione saving Harry he wanted to share, because Luna was dragging him from the room.

“What?!” he snapped once they were alone in the hallway.

“This might be a situation best addressed by girl talk” Luna said, absently tucking a piece of Ron's hair back as she spoke. The small gesture calmed him.

“She's my best friend! I have a right to know… she needs me!”

“I recall once hearing a story about how you have `the emotional range of a teaspoon'. I'm sure she will need you, but now is not the time. You'll just get her more wound up with the state you're in.”

“Fine. But I expect you to fill me in on everything as soon as your `girl talk' is over. If I have to fly my broomstick all the way to the Canadian Rockies to kick Harry's arse I will.” She laughed and then she did something she'd never done before; she kissed his cheek before leaving. He stood alone for a while, his hand pressed against his face.

When Luna rejoined Ginny and Hermione in the parlor she was quickly given the short version of what had transpired during their trip to find the Bloody 65th. Once the tale was told, Ginny made a frustrated hissing sound and stood up, hands on her hips. “That boy… I knew he could be emotionally constipated but this is just… unforgivable. Ron is going to kill him!”

“He's already dying” Hermione said. While telling her girl friends about Harry's behavior she had been calm; almost monotone. Suddenly pain sprung into her eyes upon this realization and now she stood as well, holding a hand to her heart as though she had been wounded there. “He's dying and I just abandoned him. I need to go back!”

She made a desperate move towards the fireplace, but Ginny's reflexes as a Quidditch player made her quicker, and she grabbed the older girl, holding onto her as she spoke. “It's too dangerous. Besides, there's nothing you can do to save him there. Here at least now that you're here, you can help Draco find a cure.”

For some reason it was this that made Hermione fully break, and once more she was crying. Only this time it was in a way Ginny had never seen someone cry before; like her whole world was unraveling. She's exhausted Ginny realized as Luna helped her guide Hermione back to the sofa to sit down. When Hermione was finally able to find the right words, an explanation was formulated. “I wanted to leave. When he suggested that I shouldn't have come, I barely fought him. It was all becoming too much… watching him die, not being able to do anything about it. Part of me kept wishing I hadn't gone there- hadn't met the Bloody 65th and learned about the person he had to be when I fought with them. Part of me kept wishing I had stayed here and looked for a cure instead of falling further down the rabbit hole with him. He gave me an out and I took it. I've failed him. It's like when Ron left all over again…”

“No it's not” Luna said softly, speaking for the first time. “You were right; you can do him more good here. And maybe part of him knew that as well.”

“I don't even know that I can find a cure…”

“It's not just that “ Luna interrupted. “If Harry's going to survive, maybe he will have to become this `Punisher' again. Maybe he needs to let the darkness in for a while, if it'll make him stronger. But he can't do that if you're there.”

“Only because I judged him! I judged him for doing what he needs to do and now he hates me.”

Luna laughed, but it wasn't a cruel or petty laugh. “He could never hate you. Hermione, who do you think has kept Harry from becoming evil all this time? Clearly he has a killer within him, but he's still chosen to be a hero- even when it nearly gets him killed, even when it nearly drives him mad. It would only be too easy for him to choose to blanket himself in the darkness- but instead he keeps coming back to the light. When he gets back, he'll need you to show him the way.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“Brooding in the dark never seems to provide solutions to problems” Jiao said in her whispering soft tone as she found Harry Potter seated in the shadowy corner of the camp's central tent.

“There are no solutions. Only more problems.” He responded shortly, standing up and walking towards her. “Is it time for the hunt?”

“Yes. Let's go.” He followed her silently into the snowy night and stuck by her side as she took the lead of a massive group of soldiers, each armed with a wand and torch. After fifteen minutes had passed, she decided she no longer felt like keeping her silence. “I couldn't help but notice the admirable Hermione Granger leaving the camp earlier.”

“I told her to leave” Harry responded, his tone gruff.

To Harry's surprise, Jiao gave him a “tsking” sound like that of a scolding mother. “The others here may know you as Punisher, but I know you somewhat better. The hardened act does nothing for me.”

“What act? Did you not just see me bash Jay's face in?”

“Yes, you got a bit carried away. But I also know that you didn't fight him because you wanted to hurt someone. You did it for me.” He looked at her now and she was instantly certain she was right. “You knew that Jay has been nothing but a burden on my leadership of the Bloody 65th. Given another month or so he would have tried to lead a coup, and he may have been successful. There were still men and women who were loyal to him. I could have bested Jay in a duel, but that would have only further fueled their ire. You got rid of him the best way you could; a physical challenge. The rules of the Bloody Armies dictate he must leave forever, and you knew that.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, maybe that's true. But that wasn't the only reason. I did want to hurt him. I did want to win. There's always been a part of me that's dark. I always thought it was because I had a piece of Voldemort inside me, but for the first time now there are no traces of him left in me. And still I feel this compulsion for violence. Being back here; it's really bringing out the worst in me.”

“So that's why you sent her away.”

“Yes, that and the fact that I'm a stupid prat. I'm tired Jiao. I'm dying and the pain… well it's worse than I suppose I let on. Maybe the violence makes me feel more powerful, less weak.”

“You may have some darkness in you Harry, but that doesn't make you evil. I've seen evil, and that is not you.”

“Perhaps but…” he never got a chance to finish his thought because right then there was a scream in the night air. He turned quickly and looked to the source of the sound, but now there were dark, barely visible shapes fluttering around them at an impossible speed. They wove in between each soldier, forcing them to separate, pushing them deeper into the cold and dark.

Harry brandished his torch, doing his best to keep close to Jiao and keep the ijiraq from coming between them. Back to back they moved in small circles, aiming an array of stunning, maiming and sleeping spells at the blurry streaks that were their enemy. Nothing seemed to have an effect, although it was difficult to ascertain if their spells were even hitting the desired targets.

Screams faded off into the darkness and Harry and Jiao seemed to suddenly be alone. A bone breaking, frigid breeze tore through the black night and then total silence. Slowly Harry was able to make out the shape of the ijiraq standing like pale ghosts in the distance, closing in on them from all directions. “I have an idea” Jiao panted, and she rose her wand in a circular motion, igniting flames that formed a lasso of gold and ruby flames, dancing outwards at the attacking creatures.

“Firestorm” Harry muttered, a grin on his face despite the seriousness of the situation. He remembered seeing Dumbledore perform this spell shortly before his death. There was a reason Jiao was the leader of the Bloody 65th; she was nearly as powerful as Dumbledore and almost as clever as Hermione. The flames drove the ijiraq back, giving them some distance to escape. Harry parted the flames with a simple gesture and pulled Jiao through, grabbing her arm as they sprinted away from the dying flames and back towards the camp. As they ran they generated massive flames to guide them, flames that served both as a warning to any lingering ijiraq and as a beacon to any surviving members of the Bloody 65th.

As they traveled, stragglers who had been divided from the troop re-joined, a chorus of swears and foul language accompanying panting as they ran for their lives. It wasn't until they were in the warm safety of the camp's central tent that they were able to get a headcount.

“We're missing 15 people” Jiao noted, her tone calm but her eyes ablaze with a brilliant fury. They were now clustered by the center of the camp, a large bonfire lighting their numbers for her to get a count.

“Fire seemed to work” Harry noted, crossing his arms across his chest to keep out the cold that was growing inside of him.

“Yes, it drove them away but it didn't destroy them. We'll need a much stronger spell than firestorm.”

Harry frowned. “I would suggest fiendfyre but…”

“It's too unpredictable” she agreed, finished his thought. “It could end up killing our own people.”

Harry thought of Vincent Crabbe's failed attempt to use fiendfyre in the room of requirement. As he recalled the vicious flames that had taken Crabbe's life he was suddenly reminded of another fire. He remembered watching the beautiful and mysterious Anna burn alive at the Cradle when Riddle's unbridled magical Channeling exploded. He remembered it so vividly that it seemed to be his own crime, and this caused him to shudder.

“I think I can conjure a spell strong enough to destroy the ijiraq” he suggested. He described to her the spell he had seen through Riddle's memories, and instantly she shook her head in disagreement.

“That spell destroyed an entire island and killed a whole village of powerful magical beings. If possible, it is even less safe than fiendfyre.”

“Fire of that magnitude can be controlled” Harry argued. “I saw Voldemort control it once while dueling Albus Dumbledore. I believe that Damon also used a similar spell when he burned Ville Cache in Paris.”

“How do you know that Damon was able to control it? From what I've hear, half of Ville Cache was burned to the ground.”

“Exactly. Only half was burned down. It was a warning fire; an attempt to scare or possibly kill my friends who were getting too close to uncovering his secrets. If Damon couldn't control the fire, the whole place would be gone. Possibly worse; it may have spread into muggle Paris as well.”

“I see your point. But what makes you think you can summon a spell of this magnitude and then control it? From what you've told me, this Damon is centuries old. Surely he's had far more time to practice.”

Harry quirked a half smile. “Self control isn't my problem. And as for summoning the spell, I have someone close by who can tell me how to do that.” And with those final words he reached beneath his heavy jacket and produced the pendant that he had grown so accustomed to keeping near his heart. “I think it's time Tom Riddle and I have a chat.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?” Hermione asked for the thousandth time. “I've always wanted to visit Mould on the Wold. Surprisingly none of my work with the Department of Magical Law has taken me there, but…”

“It's not exactly the best time for a vacation Hermione” Ron interrupted.

She rolled her eyes in response. “I know that Ronald. That is why I really SHOULD go, because you could be attacked if Damon perceives that you're meeting with this Adrian…”

“I'll make sure no harm comes to Luna” Ron blurted out, and then realizing how it sounded he amended his word choice. “We'll both keep each other safe.”

“I know you're capable Ron, but what if it's a trap? We know nothing of Adrian aside from what Luna saw in a vision, and since her powers of clairvoyance are quite new…”

“I trust Adrian” interrupted Luna in her typical, dreamy tone. She had approached so silently that Hermione jumped a bit. Malfoy Manor had a tendency for making one shaky, and despite the fact that this had been her makeshift home for over a month now, she could not forget about what had happened during her first visit. She fell into a nightmarish moment of retrospect, and in that moment she could nearly hear Bellatrix' horrendous laughter emanate from the shadows.

“We'll find Adrian and learn more about what he has to share about Damon” Ron promised, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. “Then we'll be back before you know it! Besides, you're the clever one- you're needed here with Ginny and Draco, looking for a cure to save Harry.”

Hermione wrapped Ron in one of her famous hugs and for a moment marveled at how tall he had grown. Of course she had known he was a fully grown man now, but sometimes she still saw him as the same little boy she had met on the Hogwarts Express years ago. Despite their long and storied history, she wasn't sure she would ever stop seeing a glimmer of that little boy she had grown up with. “Just be careful” she whispered, and then she hugged Luna as well, giving them both a little wave before they apparated away.

Once they were gone there was only the cold dark manor left, and an eerie silence. She headed down towards to dungeon to help Draco and Ginny with their potions research, which had revealed no solutions whatsoever. She had partly been worried for Ron and Luna's safety when she urged them to let her come along, but largely she had been looking an excuse to avoid Draco Malfoy. Ever since their failed plot to defeat Damon she had felt an elevated sense of insecurity regarding the former Slytherin.

It wasn't that she thought he had intended for things to fall apart in the battle. No, she was aware that she was just as much to blame as anyone else. It was that he had somehow convinced her to keep a secret from Harry, something she had long ago promised herself she would not do. The fact was, Draco's intentions might have some gleam of goodness about them, but he was still a Slytherin, filled with tricks and lies.

When she found them in the basement Draco was fast at work studying the leaves of some sort of herb through an absurd looking pair of magnifying spectacles. Ginny was slowly stirring a large cauldron of gross bubbling orange goo and she looked bored to tears. In fact, when Hermione approached she seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep.

“When is the last time you got a proper rest?” Hermione asked in a hushed tone as not to disturb the pensive Draco.

“Oh, I slept a full five hours last night thanks to a lovely herbal remedy Draco lent me” Ginny responded. “It's him who hasn't slept in… oh I don't know, days?” Ginny said this in a tone loud enough to snap Draco from his work and he looked up sharply, giving Hermione a strange look as though he'd only just noticed she was there.

“Oh right, I heard you were back. Good, I need help with these matters…” he gestured lazily to a piece of parchment on which there was an incredibly long list of ingredient preparations and half finished theories.

“Most of this is nonsense” Hermione argued as she squinted at his slanted handwriting.

“Not to me it isn't” Draco snapped.

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Thanks for your concern mum, but I caught a snooze not two hours ago.”

“That doesn't count!” Ginny interrupted. “He dozed off standing up for about five minutes and then I accidentally dropped a beaker and it woke him up.”

“Well, if anyone sounds like they need more sleep from that story it's you Weasley” Draco snarled. “That was one of my favorite beakers.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I fixed it easily enough. Some of us can Channel you know.”

“Yes, thanks for the reminder” he retorted coldly, and it was not the first time that Hermione felt as though she was caught in the middle of argument between the two of them that was an uncomfortable cross between angry and flirtatious.

“Enough, enough” Hermione quickly interjected. “Draco, you clearly need rest. You're no good to us falling asleep on your feet. Explain your theory to me and then go catch a few hours sleep.”

“First off Granger, who put you in charge? Sleeping with Potter doesn't make you the leader by way of association. Secondly, I hardly think I'll be able to `catch a few hours sleep' based on the pain.”

“The pain?” she asked, thrown off first by his rudeness and then by his random excuse for avoiding bed.

“You just spent several days with Harry, who I imagine is having the same symptoms. It feels like someone broke one or several ribs in my chest. It's been getting harder to breathe.”

She grabbed the edge of the table, processing what he said. She had seen Harry wince in pain a few times, but he had not spoken much about it. Was he hiding how much pain he was in from me? she wondered, and the immediate and resolute answer was that of course he was. Harry Potter and his stupid bloody nobility.

There wasn't time to get upset about it now. There was also the very real possibility that Harry was controlling the pain through Channeling. If Damon can poison a sword with a spell, I'm sure Harry can control his pain. They were entering a whole different realm of magic lately and it made her very uncomfortable. She hated not knowing where to find answers.

Taking a deep breath she turned back to Draco, her expression a mask of determination. “I'm not telling you to go to bed because I have some motherly concern for you Malfoy. It's quite the opposite. I hate to admit it, but you are a bit more skilled at potions than I am. We are going to need you to have your head on straight and that can hardly occur if you're busy nodding off every few hours and jotting down gibberish in between. I need you to sleep so you can useful to us. So for once, could you try to stop being a git and just do as you're asked?!”

Draco removed his strange spectacles and gazed at her through his cold grey eyes. “Fine then, but I will be back in no more than four hours. But understand this Granger, we are on a fucking race for time here so every minute counts.”

“I don't need you to tell me that. Just explain what you're trying to do here.”

After about five minutes of making sense of his scribbles and diagrams, Hermione was able to grasp his latest experiment and he was headed up the stone steps to his bedroom. Just before he turned the bend he looked back over his shoulder at the brunette witch who was already picking up where he'd left off. “You know, I couldn't really understand what Harry saw in all your bossiness. But now I'm seeing there's something a bit intriguing about a woman who takes charge.”

“Thanks for the compliment Draco” Hermione muttered, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I'll store that one away for a rainy day.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry stood alone in Jiao's pristine white tent. It was peaceful here, almost too peaceful for what he was about to attempt. Still, it had to be done and this was as good of a place as any. He removed his heavy coat and placed it by the magical fire fit that heated the tent; its flames burned a periwinkle blue that reminded him of Hermione but he pushed that thought away.

If she knew what I was about to do… he shuddered to imagine her reaction. He could hear her voice reprimanding him, “this is utter lunacy Harry. You can't control Riddle. Have you forgotten how close he nearly drove you to madness?”

He hadn't forgotten. But there was a deeper, darker secret that he had kept hidden since he had sealed what remained of Riddle's soul away in the pendant that he now clutched in the palm of his hand. He had missed Riddle's presence. At first it had started as a strange sense of loneliness and he would find himself wandering from one room to the next in Malfoy Manor as though looking for someone or something. Eventually that loneliness transformed itself into a strange addiction; a sense of longing surrounding the pendant that he permanently wore around his neck. Hermione, Draco and the rest thought that it was Riddle's power Harry was drawn to, but Harry himself had secretly realized that it was more than that.

He missed Tom Riddle's presence in his mind.

I'm losing it again Harry determined. None of it made any sense. Riddle was a warped being, a lunatic who called himself “Lord Voldemort” for no reason than the sheer need to feel special. Riddle/ Voldemort was a murderer and a sadist. And yet there was another thing about Riddle that few had considered. Some part of him had existed within Harry Potter since he was an infant.

As twisted as it might seem, extracting Riddle from his mind had left him feeling strange; like he didn't quite know himself. He felt like a part of who he was had been crudely amputated, and yet there was no medicine to cure that strange sense of loss. This realization almost made him long for death. What sort of monster have I become that I could miss such a soulless madman?

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his wild raven hair. He could spend ages deliberating his own sanity, but at the end of the day there were some things that simply needed to be dealt with, and procrastination did not help. He closed his fingers tightly around the pendant and shut his eyes.

Riddle. We need to talk.

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24. Chapter 24: You Without Me

CHAPTER 24: You Without Me

The wind was whipping Ron's hair around in an erratic manner that nearly made Luna laugh. In fact, she would have laughed it wasn't for the fact that the relentless breeze was so cold that her face felt numb.

“Would on the Mould is quite a bit larger than I'd imagined” Ron shouted over the howling that filed their ears. “I don't suppose this Adrian character could have been a bit more specific about exactly WHERE we were supposed to meet him? Y'know, like an address?”

“He was trying to be discrete” Luna reminded him with a nudge to the ribs. She moved closer to his side, allowing his tall stature to block out some of the wind. “If I was better at this whole psychic thing I'm sure I could find him.”

No sooner had those words left her mouth when she heard Adrian's voice in her mind. “Turn around” it whispered, and she did as commanded. Her and Ron stood atop a perfectly round hill covered in muddy grass. It offered a good vantage point, but still she saw nothing but a long stretch of dreary, cold landscape.

“What'chya looking at?” Ron asked, squinting at the horizon.

“I don't know…” she admitted, scanning the hilly surroundings in search of some sort of home or hovel. “There's nothing there but that dead old tree.”

Ron grinned. “Sometimes trees lead to other places. Take the Whomping Willow for example…” he didn't bother to finish this thought as they were now walking quickly towards the tree. Once they arrived they searched its black bark for some sort of opening. Near the base Luna spotted a place where the roots parted enough to give way to a small hole. It wasn't nearly big enough for her to crawl through, but once she was pressed flat on her stomach in the dirt she was able to slide her arm into the opening. She reached until her elbow got stuck and was about to retract her arm and deem it a dead end when she felt a pulling on her hand. Then she disappeared.

Still mucking about on the other side of the tree Ron failed to see his fair-headed friend's discovery, and so he had quite a shock when he came around the bend to find that she had vanished into thin air.

“LUNA!” he called out, his voice pulled into the wind and drifting into the hillside.

Luna did not hear Ron shout. She found herself in a rather cozy den that was lit by candles. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she could make out dirt walls behind the heavy tapestries that hung around her. I'm underground she realized. She also realized that her hand had not been returned to her and was being held by Adrian, who was sitting cross legged on a blanket.

“Sorry if I alarmed you” his stammered. “I had to pull you through.” He released her hand and she was able to dust the dirt and mud from her clothing. “I've been in wolf form for so long, I'm afraid I've become quite awkward at being a human.”

“I've always been awkward at being a human” Luna replied with a kind smile. “This is a nice place for a wolf.”

He laughed at this. “I thought a bit of decoration might be in order with you visiting. It was just your standard wolf den for decades.”

“I'm flattered that you went through the trouble.”

“No, it was no trouble at all. Truth be told, I've missed being a human. Hiding all this time has led me to forget who I am.”

Her eyes lit up at this confession. “Good then, you can help us find Damon and put an end to this madness. You won't have to hide anymore.”

He averted his clear blue eyes from her and he saw a look of guilt there. “Truth be told Luna, I want to help you and your friends, and so I'll tell you where Damon is hiding. But I'm not ready to come out of my own hiding just yet.”

“Why not? You just said that…”

“Yes, I'm tired of being a wolf. Believe me, I'm getting old now and I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my days in a soft warm bed with cooked meals. So I'll tell you where Damon is, but I won't go with you to find him.”

“I know that you're not powerful at Channeling but…”

“I'm a coward Luna” he said with a thin smile. “It's plain and simple.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and sitting across the room from him was the young Tom Riddle with his usual sadistic smirk and strange dark eyes. “I was wondering how long before you missed me Potter.”

“I don't miss you” Harry lied, not sure if the lie was for Riddle's benefit or his own.

“I can't read your thoughts anymore Potter, but I can always tell when you're bluffing. I've been waiting for you to call upon me for some time now. That pendant you have my consciousness trapped in is like a grey limbo. I wander endlessly with nothing but my thoughts, and yet I can feel time pass. It's agony.”

“Then why did you ask for it?” Harry snapped.

“Because I knew it was the only way to get what I want. There's very little of me left in this world; I am but a scrap of consciousness tethered to your soul. Fighting you was exhausting. Now I won't have to fight you because you've realized the inevitable. We are strongest when we work together.”

“I've called you out to use you for a purpose, and then you'll go back to that pendent, back to your limbo.”

“Perhaps, but there will be a next time that you'll need to call on me, and a time after that. The more you need me, the more you'll realize there is no you without me. ”

“I have self control, something you never had. I can choose to put you aside, I can even choose to destroy you when this war ends.”

“When this war ends there will be another, and another after that. And all the stupid little people will beg for you to save them, to bleed and die for them over and over again. You will always need me, just as I will unfortunately always need you. Look at that pendant in which you've trapped what remains of me. Have you ever really looked at it?”

Harry opened his hand and studied the pendant for the first time. It had been nothing more than an odd piece of jewelry to him, something he had picked out at random from a box of bobbles at the Manor. It was a flat piece of metal shaped in an oval, and on it was etched a knot.

“It wasn't random that you selected that icon. It was a parting message I left to you, one you purposely chose to ignore. It's the eternal knot. You and I are connected for eternity Potter. THIS is our true destiny, though I fought it for so many years.”

Harry smirked and Riddle looked surprised, as though this was not the expression he had been expecting. “Oh Tom, while you were in your sorry little limbo you must have missed the news. I'm dying.”

Riddle leaned forward, studying Harry with a dead expression. “That's a lie.”

“And here I thought you could always call my bluffs.” Reaching to the collar of his shirt Harry yanked the fabric down to expose the dark stain near his collarbone. “A clever trick from our mutual friend Damon. You and I have only one shared destiny and it is the shared destiny of all men. We are going to die.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ron was in a panic. He was in the middle of a strange country, surrounded only by muddy hills as far as the eyes could see and there was absolutely no way to know where Luna had gone to. I'll make sure no harm comes to Luna; those were the words he had said to Hermione before leaving. Now they seemed childish and full on folly. How was he supposed to protect her in a world of immortal wizards, wandless magic and ancient spells?

Tears stung his eyes unbidden as he called her name for what seemed to be the thousandth time. His throat was painfully hoarse but he didn't care. He would scream her name until his lungs bled if it meant finding her. I'm a failure he kept telling himself, wracking his brain for some solution, some explanation. If he'd brought Hermione he was sure she would have sorted it out by now; she had all the brains. I'm an idiot for not bringing her along. Did I think I could keep Luna safe alone? What good am I? What good have I ever been to anyone?

“Luna…” he croaked out desperately, falling to his knees in the mud, his forehead resting against the trunk of the tree.

“Ron?” he heard her voice from behind him. Spinning around he saw her standing there like a mirage, her light hair shining in the sunlight. He lunged to his feet and grabbed her, and without a second thought he kissed her. At first she seemed surprised, but then she returned his affection, kissing him with a passion he had not known she possessed.

When they parted he realized a few tears had snuck from his eyes and wiped them away, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm sorry I thought you were… you just disappeared! And I- I- I couldn't live with myself if something bad happened to you.”

This time she initiated the kiss and it was unlike any snog he'd ever experienced. It filled him with a sense of warmth that had not realized was missing from his life. He wrapped her up so tightly in his arms that she was lifted from the ground and when they parted they were both laughing, the wind suddenly calmed as though it had played witness to their display.

“We need to get back to the Manor. I know where Damon is now” she held her hand out for her broomstick and he removed it from his shoulder where it was strapped onto his back along with his own.

“What about that Adrian bloke? Isn't he going to help us?”

“He gave us the information we need, but he won't be coming.”

“What? He made us come all the way out here and he's not even going to help?”

“Not all battles are won by warriors Ron. He's done his part, now let's go home.”

Home he thought, and that sense of warmth returned. Malfoy Manor was far from being his home, but if she was wherever she was going, it felt like it could be close enough to a home for him. The Burrow had burned down, but he now had a new sense of home and that thought kept him content the whole flight back.

When they were solidly landed at the Manor their first course of action was to find the others. They headed down to the dungeon to discover Hermione and Ginny hard at work. As Luna and Ron descended the slippery steps to Draco's lab, they could hear Hermione's voice echoing up towards them.

“Draco's methodology is really sound, brilliant actually” she was saying with a note of surprise.

“Perhaps one really can grow smarter over time” Ginny responded. “I never really knew him in school of course. Mostly what I knew about him was from the Quidditch Pitch and from Ron's whining. Of course, I have ample reasons to hate his family based on what happened my first year with the diary…”

“As you bloody well should!” Ron said, bounding off the last step to interrupt the conversation. “I don't care if he's gotten a tad bit smarter, he's still a git.”

“Agreed” Hermione said with a half smile, and while Ron knew she was just appeasing him, he appreciated it anyways. “Anyhow, Draco's work here is really quite impressive but none of it seems to be working.”

Luna frowned. “I asked Adrian about the spell but he knew nothing of it. He said it certainly sounds like something Damon would concoct though.”

“We'll just have to keep trying” Hermione said softly, turning away from them.

“Adrian was able to tell Luna where Damon is hiding though” Ron chimed in, a note of pride in his voice. “I guess Malfoy should be here to discuss this…”

“We forced him to get some rest” Ginny chimed in, tossing her work aside with a look of relief. “I'll go get him. Meet us in the parlor.”

Sensing Ron wanted a moment to speak with his best friend alone, Luna departed as well, claiming to be hungry. Once the other two girls had cleared out, Hermione and Ron were left alone in the dungeon. “You'll find a cure…” Ron started after the silence surrounding them grew to be too much.

“And what if we don't?” Hermione said, turning back to Ron, her eyes bright with pain. “It's all well and good that we know where Damon is, but Harry is hardly a match for him half dead. Even with Riddle's consciousness boosting his own powers…”

“And Malfoy still hasn't figured out how to Channel” Ron said with a note of disgust. “Malfoy still has Greyback howling around in his subconscious. That should be boosting his powers as well.”

“AND Malfoy is also dying” she reminded him. “Ron, we can't take Damon on without the two of them at full health. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless we found a way to soul bind the power of another to ourselves. It would make us stronger. We could fight in their place if… if we don't find a cure.”

Ron's jaw dropped. “Hermione, have you gone insane? First off, when have you been one to give up on saving Harry? You've always fought to save him, even when it seemed utterly impossible. Secondly, soul binding requires someone die. Are you suggesting we find a couple sacrificial pigs? It sounds like something… something Voldemort would say!”

She burst into tears at this and he wasn't even sure how to react. He wanted her to cry; wanted her to see how foolish she was being. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with. “I think I'm losing my mind Ron. I thought I could be strong enough to deal with all this, but this is different than when we faced Voldemort. The magic is so much more complicated and powerful, and Harry's different… he's…”

“Not here” Ron said, a tone of sadness in his voice. “The two of you are always your best when you work together, but now he's not here and you don't know what to do.”

“Sometimes I think I'm useless without him.”

“That's utter bollocks. You are brilliant and you're perfectly aware of that. But you him are synchronous… it took me a long time to understand that but it's perfectly clear now. You balance each other.”

“I'm not sure I can balance him anymore. I'm not sure anyone can. You weren't there Ron… he was so different. There were glimmers of cruelty in him and I'm not sure where they came from. I guess he's seen so much blood shed and horror I should have known…”

“Known what?”

“That there will come a day when I can't save him.”

“Perhaps” Ron agreed, and his casual response surprised her. “But you and I will always be able to save him together. The Golden Trio right?”

She laughed. “I've always hated that name.”

“Me too” and conceded. “But the three of us can face anything. When he gets back you and I will find a way to save his arse yet again. I promise.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Tom Riddle was angry and Harry was amused. Never would he have imagined that dying could have such pleasurable side effects. “Why should I help you with this fire spell if we're just going to die anyways?”

“Because deep down inside you're a good person?”

“I murdered your parents Potter, along with dozens of other helpless…”

“I know, I know. You're evil incarnate. Save me with usual drabble, you sound like your older self. Always going on and on about how special and evil you are.”

Riddle frowned. “That's distasteful.”

“What's distasteful is you deciding you want to be Tom Riddle again, but taking credit for the works of `Voldemort'. Actually, more than distasteful, the whole thing is purely insane.”

“You still haven't given me a viable reason to help you.”

Harry's eyes lit up. “Here's one you'll like; you'll get to feel the raw power of burning away an entire species.” Riddle smiled his strange cruel smile and Harry grinned in response. “I knew you'd like that part.”

Back out in the cold air the frost cut through to his bones, but Riddle's apparition was unaffected by the weather since he was not real. It was strange watching the young man walk atop the snow, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, his robe not even shifting against the mightily blowing wind. Once they were far enough from the camp that the fires below were merely dots of light, Harry stopped and waited.

“I had read about the ijiraq during my fifth year. A fascinating phenomenon of magical power. At a point in time I wondered if there might be any practical application for their strengths, just as there was for the werewolves. Alas, werewolves can be coaxed to behave like loyal dogs whereas ijiraq have no consciousness to speak of. They're simply lost souls caught in a pattern of deceit and destruction.”

“I can see why you were interested in them; you have a lot in common” Harry retorted. It was strange to recall that Riddle had been such an avid learner. In this way, and only in this way, Riddle reminded him of Hermione. He quickly shut that thought away and soon there was a strange silence followed by a faint rustling noise.

“They're coming” Harry said, extending his hand in preparation of casting the spell. “Are you ready?”

“Always” Riddle responded with a smug grin, and as the shadowy figures of the ijiraq closed in around them Harry felt himself filled with the explosive hatred of Tom Riddle. He felt every last bit of his disdain, his cruelty and his dark insanity, and as it filled him to the point of bursting he Channeled it all into one singular stream of energy which emitted as a dazzling flame, blinding to look at.

The ijiraq did not scream, run away or even moan. They seemed to turn into moths, gravitating towards the flames, which immediately consumed them, leaving behind not so much as a pile of ashes in the white snow. They burned by the hundreds until they were all gone, and yet there was still more of Riddle's ire to fuel the inferno. Harry found himself in a sudden battle for control of his own wits, and then at last he was able to focus on a single memory that gave him a sense of calm.

He saw Hermione lying across the bed from him, her eyes closed as she slept, her wavy brown hair pooled out around her on the pillow. Her breaths were soft and even, and there was a look of peace on her face. “I love you” he heard her whisper.

Coughing and gasping for air Harry fell to his knees in the snow. The fire was extinguished and all that was left were steaming puddles of melted snow. “Nice try Riddle” he said, wiping the ice from his clothes as he stood up.

“I wasn't trying to gain control of you” Riddle shrugged. “After all, you're dying anyways.”

“Well, it sure felt like you got out of control with all that rage at the end” Harry snarled, heading back towards the camp.

“Oh, that wasn't me. That was you.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ginny had tried knocking on the door to Draco Malfoy's room several times, but she had a feeling that the inordinately thick wood made it rather hard to hear. “Oh to hell with it” she muttered, pushing the door open at last.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust; the fire had grown low in the hearth and it was the only source of light in the otherwise dark and shadowy room. She crossed the marble floors towards his four-post bed, whispering his name. As she drew closer she could see that he was fast asleep, his silver/blonde hair matted to one side as he slept with a look of extreme discomfort on his face. Ginny wondered if he was having a nightmare, or if it was simply the pain of the poison that was causing him to look so displeased.

“Draco!” she called, her voice a bit louder now, and all at once his hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist and flinging her to the bed. He was on top of her as she lay there breathless, and slowly he realized what was happening. For the love of Merlin, why do I always have to be so attracted to the wrong sort of men? she wondered as his confused gaze cleared and drank in the sight of her.

All too soon he rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “What are you doing?”

“Waking you up” she responded in her best indignant tone, although she feared that instead it came out as girlish and unsteady.

“If you wanted to get into bed with me, you could have just asked” her replied with a rakish grin, standing up now before he headed over to stoke the flames of the fire. Once the flames were fully lit she could better make out his shirtless figure, and it was in that moment that she could see the extent of the poison running through his veins. It had moved on from the front part of his chest and was now tracing the veins through the left half of his back, creeping up towards his neck.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, and even she was surprised by the emotion in her voice.

“Yes” he said bluntly, grabbing his button up from the back of an armchair and throwing it on. “But that's not what you're here about.”

“It's okay to let people worry about you.”

“Are you?” he retorted, staring at her in a way that was so intense she felt uncertain of what to say or do next. “Are you worried about me?”

“Y-yes” she stammered, but she wasn't sure why.

“No you're not. You're worried about him. You're worried about The Boy Who Lived, The Savior of the Wizarding World… you know that if I'm dying, he's dying and it worries you. I don't blame you. It worries me too. Even after all the bad I've done he gave me a chance at redemption, a chance to be good and brave. Perhaps even a chance for real friendship, which I've never known before. And now he's dying and it's my fault, and I know you can't forgive me for that. Unless I come up with a cure… I need to get back to the lab.”

“Draco, stop” Ginny interrupted, leaping from the bed and blocking his the progress to the door in a few swift steps. It wasn't hard; he was moving slowly like a wounded animal. “Stop feeling bloody sorry for yourself. Harry gave you a chance, that's true, but so have the rest of us. Harry didn't just give you a chance at friendship- we all did. So start acting like you deserve it instead of playing this whole cast down angel bit.”

There was a glimmer of surprise in Draco's grey eyes but he quickly hid it with a sneer. “But I've heard girls drop their knickers for the cast down angel bit.”

“No, that's just Slytherin girls. And that's just because they're notoriously easy.”

She led him to the parlor where Ron, Luna and Hermione stood waiting. The mood in the room was so tense and morbid that Ginny momentarily had the strange urge to crack a joke just to see the astonished look on their faces. She suppressed the random desire and flopped down on one of the many stiff, uncomfortable sofas the Manor had to offer.

Luna spoke first. “I see no need to drag out the tension, so here's the thing.... Adrian told me that Damon is hiding in the Redwood National Park.”

“As in… California?” Hermione asked, perplexed. “I mean that seems… odd.”

“Isn't that a muggle park?” Draco asked, his features automatically forming a look of disdain, as though he simply couldn't help himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No public park is simply muggle Draco. Anyone can go there, hence why it's a bloody PUBLIC park…”

“Adrian has been able to use his psychic abilities to see into Damon's mind… like an advanced form of legilmency. He has seen Damon and his followers camped there. Damon knows Draco is dying, and therefore he knows Harry is dying as well due to the blood bond in the unbreakable vow. He expects they'll both be dead quite soon.”

Luna paused to look at Ron and Hermione, who were both standing by the hearth as though it would bring some heat into the frigid atmosphere of the room. Ron looked away, and Hermione's expression was so painful to behold that Luna found herself having to look away as well. She cleared her throat and continued. “Damon has set up a place in the forest that is shielded by complex notice-me-not spells and other glamours. That's why the muggles never notice it. Nor do any witches or wizards for that matter. You can only know where it is if you know where to look, which I do.”

“So you can lead us there” Ginny ascertained, trying to hold a note of positivity in her voice but failing miserably. All she could think about was the fact that Damon expected Draco and Harry to die soon. It was his poisoning spell; it stood to reason that he would have a good sense of how quickly it could kill.

“Yes, and we will be able to catch him unaware” Luna said, also failing to convey this message with any confidence building cheer. She wondered if this was how mediwitches felt when they announced that a patient had died to the victim's loved ones.

“We can't do this until Harry gets back,” Draco said, standing up slowly. His voice was thick, but his emotions well buried. “We should get back to working on a cure.”

“Harry…” Hermione whispered, his name escaping her mouth unbidden and hanging in the air in a haunting way that made them all stop moving as they spiraled into all of the thoughts they'd been avoiding and emotions they'd be suppressing.

There had been few other names in history that could so dramatically alter the mood of a room just when spoken in the right context. Yet despite being a simple name, it was a name that could do just that. And as they all held onto that name, thinking of what it meant to them in that specific moment, he came roaring through the floo network and straight into the parlor.

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25. Chapter 25: The Truth About Destiny

Author's Note: And so we are at the final chapter. I know it may seem somewhat sudden, but I wanted to bring it to an action packed climax. Hope you enjoy!

(Side Note: There is a bit of Latin in here that was most likely badly translated via Google Translate. Please excuse it, and if you happen to know the correct translation do share!)

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

CHAPTER 25: The Truth About Destiny

To everyone else standing the parlor, the sight of an ash covered Harry Potter suddenly swaying in their presence was a combination of absurd and wonderful. From Harry's perspective, everything was all the more absurd as he was greeted with the bewildered gazes of his friends partnered with the smug look of Tom Riddle, who strode about the room unseen. When did daily life become so surreal? he wondered. And if he was honest with himself, it had all started when the Dursley's home was being pelted with Hogwarts letters delivered by owls.

He shook his head clear of this memory, and in the process a cloud of dust came from his hair and he wondered if it would be appropriate to ask them to reconvene once he'd had a proper shower. Of course, he never had a chance because he was quickly bombarded by a series of questions from all direction.

“Are you alright Harry?” Asked Ginny.

“Did you have any luck with the Bloody 65th?” Asked Luna.

“Do they have any potions experts in the Bloody army?” Asked Draco.

“Why shouldn't I just kick your arse back to Canada right now?” Asked Ron.

“Are all your friends such utter morons?” Asked Riddle.

The only one who didn't ask questions was the person who was typically the most inquisitive of them all. Hermione stood silent, not even looking at him and he felt a pain far worse than that of the poison spreading through his veins. He tried to push the feeling away and took a deep breath. “I realize I have a lot of explaining to do… to all of you. But one thing at a time. Draco, I need to talk to you first.”

There was a look of anger in Ron's eyes and pain in Hermione's, but Harry tried his best to ignore both of these. “I guess we'll just leave the two of you to it then” Ron growled, and the rest followed as he stormed from the room.

“For the hero, you sure seem to have a lot of people unhappy at you” Draco joked once they were alone.

“That's part of being the hero” Harry responded, his voice sounding impossibly tired. “You'll have to learn that if you plan on becoming one.”

“Who said I planned on that? I am perfectly satisfied being the reluctant ally.”

“You may have to step up from that role. I know of a way to stop the poison, but it's complicated and it will require all of your finesse with potions.”

Draco's eyes lit up. “And how, per say, did you come across this gem of knowledge?” Harry glanced sidelong, as though looking at someone else in the room, and Draco quickly surmised what was happening. “You've been talking with Riddle again, haven't you?”

“I needed his help with something and it turns out he also may know a thing or two about this sort of magic.”

Draco found himself struggling with an alien feeling of concern for Harry. “This is why you didn't want Hermione in the room. You knew she'd disagree if she found out…”

“She doesn't need to know” Harry argued.

“Oh fuck that” Draco spat. “I've already seen what happens when the two of you keep secrets from each other. You're telling her, or I'm not helping.”

“Right Malfoy. I'm to believe you'd sooner die than keep a secret from Hermione? Now I've seen it all.”

“I'd rather not see you be a coward Potter. I've seen you be many things, but a coward is not one of them.”

Harry sat down. His whole body felt weak in a way he had never experienced before. “You're right… I know you're right…”

“Riddle is fucking your head up again. I'm glad if he has a solution, but you know it's self serving.”

At this Tom Riddle stepped from the shadows of Harry's mind. “Ah, perhaps Lucius' son isn't as incompetent as his father was.”

“Shut up” Harry muttered.

For a moment Draco thought Harry was talking to him, but then he realized he was talking to the phantom that had haunted him all of his life. Draco knelt in front of Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder; drawing his attention away from the agony he had blanketed himself in. “Make him go away Harry. I know you can do it. You've done it before.”

Harry looked into Draco's eyes for a moment and then moved his gaze to Riddle, who appeared standing by the hearth. Always young, always cold, always evil Harry thought to himself.

“What young Malfoy doesn't know is that you don't want me to go away this time. That there's no you without…”

Before Riddle could finish his sentence, Harry pushed him away from his mind, and the vision of him disappeared. Once more he was alone in his mind and it was a lonely feeling. He focused on Draco again. “I'm going to describe the process to you and you'll need to start getting set up immediately. We don't have much time left.”

“I know” Draco said, standing slowly with a look of pain.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

“I can't believe that git!” Ron shouted, pacing about Luna's room. Luna had half dragged him here after Harry's demand to speak with Draco alone. “First he upsets Hermione, then he chooses MALFOY for his confident without so much as a `how do you do?' to the rest of us…”

Luna shut Ron up by kissing him. “Listen Ron, I know you have your reasons to be upset with Harry, but he is your best friend. He's like a brother to you. It will all get sorted out in due time.”

Deciding that kissing her was infinitely more satisfying than whining on, he pulled her to him once more and they resumed the snog that they had previously enjoyed in the cold fields. As things proceeded to get hot and heavy, a knock came on the door and he groaned as Luna moved away to answer it.

“Hey Luna I need to talk with Ron” said a voice that clearly belonged to Harry.

“How did you know he's here?” Luna asked in a falsely sweet tone.

“Ginny guessed as much.”

Ron scowled and moved towards the door. Ginny is such a nosey little thing. “What d'yah want Harry?”

Harry would have laughed at Ron's clearly messed up, post snog hair-do, but he knew his best mate well enough to tread carefully. “We need to talk about the Bloody 65th.”

“No, I think we need to talk about Hermione and how you upset her.”

“And I think I need to um… get a bite to eat” Luna lied. She had already eaten several times that day just as a method of avoiding awkward confrontations.

Once she was gone Ron stepped out into the hallway, his arms crossed across his chest in a hostile posture. “I know you can be a bloody idiot Harry, but honestly… I thought you loved her.”

Harry looked as though Ron had sucker punched him. “Of course I love her.”

“Funny way of showing it. Telling her to go away, telling her you don't need her, don't want her.” Harry felt suddenly dizzy and he staggered back, turning away and making his way to the wall for support. “Don't walk away from me Potter!”

Ron moved to grab Harry's arm, but the motion set Harry off balance and he fell to the floor. Only Ron's quick assistance kept him from cracking his head against the hard marble beneath them. Ron helped Harry maneuver so he was sitting upright and there was silence as the color returned to Harry's face. “You're right Ron. I fucked up. I don't know that she can forgive me, and I don't know that I even want her to.”

With Harry half leaning against him, both of their backs to the wall, Ron suddenly felt terrible for attacking his best friend- even if it was warranted. “You're dying. I suppose that can do funny things to a man's brain.”

“Yes” Harry panted. “Yes it can. But it's not an excuse. I have so damned many things wrong with me Ron. Part of me has known I've loved her for such a long time, but part of me also knew I didn't deserve her, that I could never be whole enough for her. I wish I had listened to that second part.”

“Don't say that” Ron said, shaking his head. “She will forgive you Harry. She already has. She already missed you and you were barely apart. She loves you. It's almost like she's your destiny…”

Destiny. The word rang in Harry's ears. Riddle thought the two of them were destined to be intertwined for eternity, Ron thought being with Hermione was Harry's destiny, Draco thought Harry's destiny was to help him find redemption, Damon thought it was simply Harry's destiny to die, as all men do. What is my destiny? he wondered, slowly regaining his strength.

“She's next on my list of people to talk to” Harry told Ron, sitting up straighter now and rubbing his neck as he thought.

“She should have been first.”

“Do you think I didn't want to talk with her first? Every second I'm stuck here with you is a second I'm wasting with her. So let's get on with it. The Bloody 65th has agreed to help us fight Damon. I understand that Luna has been able to locate Damon's camp, so we will be headed there as soon as possible. There may be a ritual that will save Draco and I, and then we'll strike after that. The Bloody 65th will need to be debriefed on the enemy and learn as much about Channeling as possible in a small time frame.”

“How small are we talking here?”

“I want to attack as soon as Draco and I recover. That could take anywhere from a day to a month, I really don't know.”

“This cure sounds… uncertain” Ron noted, not sure how else to phrase it.

“It is. But it's the only shot we have and we're running out of time.”

“I think you've said that sentence to me a half million times in our friendship.”

“Well, we have a pretty good record of coming out on the other side, so let's hope that luck holds out.”

Ron couldn't help but smile at the truth of the statement. “So you need me to gather up Harry's Army and start training the reinforcements?”

“You got it.”

“Not a problem. Only one small thing. Where IS the Bloody 65th?”

This time Harry smiled and having regained his balance and stood up and took a few steps over to the large window at the end of the hall, gesturing for Ron to join him. When they looked out they could see half of the grounds of Malfoy Manor covered by tents and low burning camp fires. “They're on the lawn.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione paced around the room where she and Harry had spent the night before they left to find the Bloody 65th. Just as she knew so many unspoken things about Harry, she knew that he would find her here. She wasn't sure what to expect when he did come, and that not knowing made her insanely anxious. Just when she was about to leave and go seek him out herself, a knock came on the door- hesitant, nervous.

“Come in Harry” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was a conversation she was afraid to start because she wasn't sure how it would end. She heard him enter the room but she did not look up from a small scuff on the floor. She was unready and unwilling to meet his gaze, but he did not speak. Finally she looked up at him and saw him by the door looking at her with a mixture of fear, uncertainty and hope. All at once she was reminded of the little boy with the broken spectacles on the Hogwarts Express.

Her reservations left and she moved to him quickly, embracing him with such ferocity that he had to lean back against the door to stay standing. She ran her hand along the stubble of his chin and guided his mouth towards hers, kissing him in a way that she would communicate every unsaid thing between them. I forgive you. I love you. I need you.

He responded in kind and slowly they made their way to the bed where he eased himself down so that she was half lying on him, her head rested on his chest when their embrace ended. For a long time they laid in silence, and that seemed best. When she finally spoke it was with a reluctance to leave the comfortable bubble they had built. “We haven't found a cure” she said, deciding it was best to start with the conversation topic she dreaded the most.

“I might have” he told her, and she sat up quickly, looking into his familiar green eyes to confirm she hadn't imagined the words he had just spoken. “Listen, before you get too excited I need to be forthcoming with where I got the information from. You're not going to like it.” She shifted so that he could sit up as well and she took a hold of his hand to let him know she was ready to hear it. “I had to call upon Riddle to defeat to ijiraq. He told me he might know of a ritual that can cure both Draco and I.”

“Harry, you can't trust him…”

“I know. But he wants to survive more than he wants me to die. I believe this to be true. But there's more… I've realized something about myself. Part of me has been tied to Riddle for so long, I can't be trusted with any of his influence. True I needed him to defeat the ijiraq, but I also WANTED to call upon him. Part of me… I don't know… missed him? Or maybe it was more like missing a part of myself. It's all so twisted up inside of me.”

She could see that just admitting this to her was causing Harry great pain, and she wrapped her arms around him, hoping to soothe him, hoping to provide him with something stable to cling onto. After a moment she felt him press something cold and metallic into the palm of her hand. She pulled back to see the pendant that held what remained of Riddle in it. Just holding it made her shudder.

“I need you to hide it somewhere I can never get it… or destroy it if you can.”

“But Harry… you need his strength to defeat Damon.”

Harry shook his head. “Riddle told me something and I can't stop hearing the truth in it. There will always be other battles to be fought, and it will become too easy for me to reach to him for strength. And the more I do that, the harder it will be to learn how to be me without him. I will have to face Damon without Riddle's power. But I won't be alone.”

She realized that he was staring at the pendant that was still in her hand like a drug addict eyeing his next fix, so she put it in her pocket, removing it from his range of vision. She guided his gaze to hers. “You're right Harry. You won't be alone. We'll all fight beside you.”

Harry responded with a small smile as though something she said was funny. When she quirked her eyebrow in askance he responded. “Ever since I was kid I always thought I would end up alone, that is was somehow my destiny. And it's a funny thing about destinies. The truth about destinies is, they are what you choose for them to be.” As he leaned towards her he whispered one final thing in her ear, “I choose loving you to be my destiny.”

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Draco looked around at the candles surrounding them with a look of great discomfort. “What if you misremembered something Potter?”

“If I did it's because Riddle did. Riddle doesn't misremember things. Well… he doesn't misremember spells anyways.”

“Hmm, well I for one still don't feel comfortable placing all my faith in a murderous mad man.”

“Well, can you maybe try to place your faith in a murderous mad man to defeat a murderous mad man?”

“Is this really what our options have become reduced to?” Ginny sighed, carefully pouring a potion into a large black bowl that sat between Harry and Draco.

“What if this doesn't work?” Draco asked, standing up now and pacing around.

“Then we both die” Harry said flatly. There was no point in sugar coating it. He was in intense pain and he knew he was rapidly approaching his expiration date. It had taken them several days to sort out the intricacies of the ritual that Riddle had described. It was nearly complete, and it wouldn't have been possible but for the tireless support of Ginny, Luna and Hermione.

“Aren't you supposed to be giving me a heroic pep talk?” Draco drawled, badly desirous of a glass of firewhiskey. Even pacing was an exhausting task, but it felt better than sitting and waiting for the potential slaughter.

“I'm here… I'm here! Don't start without me!”

“It's an ancient ritual Weasley, not a Quidditch match” Draco barked as Ron finished sprinting down the steps and into the dungeon.

“Yeah, well it looks like an orgy is about to take place” Ron wheezed, pointing to the candles that formed concentric circles on the cold dungeon floor.

“Don't get all excited Weasley.”

“I'm not excited, I'm winded because this place is fucking massive. If this is the last time I have to come down those slimy dungeon steps I will be all too happy.”

“Everything is ready” Hermione said softly, bringing a halt to Ron and Draco's banter.

“Time for the final goodbyes then” Draco said. “I have a will written out in the library. I'll have you know it leaves nothing to any of you, but does stipulate some rather specific instructions about the creation of my commemorative portrait....”

“How is it that even when you're dying you're such a bloody git?!” Ron howled, and Draco sniggered, walking off down one of the tunnels to give the others a moment alone.

“It's going to be fine” Harry said, and even Ron looked deflated by Harry's lame final words. Harry strode over to Ron and clapped one hand on his shoulder, walking him over to the corner for a private chat. “Listen Ron, I have no idea if this is going to work. But then again, I'm always doing shit for which I am clueless of the outcome. You need to have a little faith, and if not for me do it for her.”

Harry didn't need to explain who he was talking about as their eyes drifted over to Hermione who was busy triple checking everything. “But just supposing this doesn't work out… I know you'll be there for her, so I'm not going to ask you that. What I'm going to ask is that you still live your life to the fullest. There will always be bad guys, and I'm not going to tell you what to do about that if I'm not around to help fight. But remember that there's also good. I know you've found it with Luna.”

Ron was humiliated to realize he was blushing at the sound of her name. “What do you know about me and Luna?”

“You've never been good at hiding your `secret snog sessions' Ron” Harry said, and at this they both laughed.

“Did you want to speak to Hermione before you… yah know… try to cheat death again?”

“We talked last night” Harry told him, although “talking” wasn't quite the right word for it. True, he was tired and weak most of the time, but he had found plenty of strength to make sure that what might potentially be his last night with her was put to good use.

They wandered back to the group and Harry gave Luna and Ginny each a hug before turning to Hermione and giving her a kiss so tender that the others felt a need to avert their eyes. “This is going to work” he whispered in her ear, half for his own benefit.

“I know. It's your destiny.” He half smiled at this and then kissed her once more before calling for Draco to rejoin them. Draco entered with a cocky swagger, but he was immediately caught off guard when Ginny Weasley forced a hug upon him.

“Oh, what the bloody hell is this then?” Ron shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Luna stepped in to hug Draco as well and Ron's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Oh come on Weasley, I know you want one too” Draco jeered, gesturing towards Ron, who nearly gagged.

“Good luck Draco” Hermione said, and Draco turned to give her a nod of appreciation.

“Well, let's do this thing then” Harry said, stepping back into the circle of candles. Sitting cross-legged with Draco across from him he was reminded of Draco's lessons in meditation and emotional control. It seemed like ages ago that they had been enemies bound only by an unbreakable-fucking-vow. They locked eyes and began the chant. Uti hoc vinculum ad resonum pietas aurita sacellum… Use this bond to mend…

After having defeated the ijiriq, Riddle and Harry had spent sometime discussing several matters, one of which was Damon's curse. Riddle had hypothesized that the same unbreakable bond that had gotten them into the situation could be leveraged to break the curse. It would involve another ancient blood ritual, but he felt quite certain it could be done. There is great power in unbreakable vows Riddle had said. Or were those my own thoughts? Harry mused over this as they chanted. He was still having trouble distinguishing where he ended and Riddle started.

They each reached for the dagger beside them and cut their hands open once more. This time, instead of making contact with each other as they had for the unbreakable vow, they allowed the blood to drip into the potions bowl placed between them. Upon contact the drops of blood dissolved into the fluid, turning it from a dark, murky color to a brilliant white that filled the room with bright light.

Well, at least it seems to be working thus far Harry thought. As long as…

He didn't have time to finish the thought because just then the light seemed to shoot through his body and he couldn't see, hear or feel anything but an excruciating pain that made the cruciatus curse feel like a tickle. When the pain vanished he felt a strange sense of existing without time or space, as though he was a bodiless entity floating in oblivion. In that moment, a shred of panic ripped through him. What if this whole thing was a trick? What if Riddle figured out a way to steal my body, and now it's MY soul trapped in the pendant?

Luckily his panic was short lived, because a moment later he found himself bombarded by a roller coaster of memories that were not his own. It was much like when he had first tried to access Riddle's memories; feelings, moments and fleeting impressions blurred together so he was unable to grasp any one sensation for more than a split second at a time. Then, bit-by-bit, it slowed until he realized whose memories he was seeing.

He is looking into the bespectacled eyes of an eleven-year-old Harry Potter and holding his hand out in an offer of friendship. His heart is swelling with excitement- he's waited so long to go to Hogwarts and escape the dreary confines of his childhood home- but he is also filled with fear- what if he's not sorted into Slytherin? What if he shames his family name somehow?

He's completed his first successful potion and Snape gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. It is the first kind gesture of support he's ever known.

He hovers on his broom far above the quidditch pitch and watches Harry Potter celebrate catching the snitch in a crowd of crimson and gold. A feeling of hatred and humiliation boils in his stomach.

He's lying on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, the curtains closed tightly around him for privacy. He's contemplating who to ask to the Yule Ball. Pansy Parkinson has been nagging him about it, but he wishes he had someone he actually liked to ask. More so, he wishes someone else actually liked him.

His face is stinging from the sudden slap of Hermione Granger, who is shouting at him, her bushy brown hair blowing in the wind. He feels too shocked to be angry or upset, he simply stands there, watching as the “Golden Trio” trod off.

He is sitting next to Astoria Greengrass in the quidditch stands, her hand warmly pressed in his as the sun rises above Hogwarts in magnificent shades of yellow, orange and purple.

He is staring at his hands, or more specifically, at the Malfoy crest that adorns the ring on his finger. It is a welcome distraction from the hideous face of Lord Voldemort, who is striding about Malfoy Manor like he owns the place. He never wanted any of this. He wanted to make his family proud, but now all he feels is fear and emptiness. There is no pride in what is being plotted.

He is pleading for his life as a Death Eater holds a wand to his head at the Battle of Hogwarts. All he can think is “please don't let it end like this”.

And then it all began to speed up once more so that Harry could catch just little glimpses- his parents blood trickling across the cold marble floors of Malfoy Manor, screaming at Harry Potter with a feeling on rage, Ginny Weasley smiling, the pain of poison burning in his veins…

Harry awoke with a gasp, the dungeon spinning around him wildly until slowly it began to calm. He felt like he might get sick so he didn't move for a while, allowing the cold floor beneath him to sooth the fiery heat he was radiating. When he was finally able to sit up he saw that Draco was across from him, struggling to do the same.

“What the hell just happened?” Draco panted, his silver hair uncharacteristically messy.

“I don't know” Harry muttered, slowly realizing that everyone in the room staring at them with a mixed look of confusion and horror. “Did it… did it work?”

“Only one way to find out” Draco replied, slowly removing his shirt. With a collective sigh of relief they realized that the poison was gone.

“Bloody hell” Ron whispered. “Riddle was actually useful for once.”

As Ron said these words Harry felt a strange tugging sensation from deep inside, a sort of longing that couldn't be described. To his surprise, Draco was giving him an understanding expression, and he realized they had much to talk about.

“Come on, off to Madame Pomfrey” Hermione said, helping Harry to his feet. “You do seem to be better, but we won't know for sure until she does a thorough examination.”

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The one they called Jones was on his ass again and Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes. “I thought you Bloody 65th soldiers were supposed to be tough!”

“Fuck off” Jones growled, stumbling back to his feet with a sour expression on his face. “You've had far more time to practice this Mental Channeling bullshit.”

“True. But you don't have that luxury. Tomorrow we head to battle, and you need to seriously improve your game if you're going to survive.”

“I can pick up from here” Jiao offered, entering the training room in her typical quiet manner. Ron had been getting to know Jiao fairly well over the past week. He had dated many beautiful women in the past (and was currently dating a blonde who he found to be very cute indeed), but there was something about Jiao's type of authoritative beauty that made him feel like a clumsy teen all over again. He was reminded of his embarrassing debacle with his now sister-in-law Fleur Delacour.

“Thanks” Ron said, willing himself not to blush. “Don't go easy on him!”

“I wouldn't dream of it” Jiao responded with soft smile that made Jones look very nervous indeed.

Ron felt the need to check in on Harry, who had only been recently released from Pomfrey's care, along with Draco Malfoy. The ritual that had healed them had also left them quite weak for days, and Hermione had felt that they were rushing into battle too quickly. Nevertheless, Harry had a way of being persuasive when he wanted to- even with the ever-stubborn Ms. Granger.

Ron wasn't concerned about Harry's physical strength as much as his mental state. The others seemed to ignore it, or at least passively accept it, but Ron wasn't sure what was happening with his best mate. He often found Harry spacing out mid-sentence, his eyes losing focus as though he was lost in some far distant memory. Hermione had explained that Harry had tasked her with ridding him of the pendant, but Ron could not understand why that would have such a dire effect on The Boy Who Lived.

He found Harry wandering around alone in one of the many empty rooms in the Manor. “Whatch'yah doing mate?” Ron asked, trying to sound casual.

For a moment Harry looked startled, as though he had not expected Ron to find him. “I don't know” Harry admitted. “I was looking for something…”

“Well, no matter. The training is just about done. Well… it's as good as it's going to get with such a small window of opportunity.”

“We can't afford to let Damon slip away. If he knows…”

“Yes, yes, we've been over this a million times” Ron sighed. “I think I could rehearse the battle strategy in my sleep.”

“Good.”

“Yes, I suppose it is good. But you have to admit, we're our best when we're just making shit up as we go along.”

Harry laughed at this and followed Ron out of the room, his previous search disregarded. As they made their way through the vast hallway they literally ran into Hermione, who was half running down the corridor.

Harry instinctively grabbed her after she collided with them, straightening her out. “Where are you in such a rush to?”

“I need to talk to Pomfrey about final preparations for medical wing, and there's a matter of getting Jiao some information about previously observed spells from the enemy, and then I told…” Harry cut her off with a short, playful kiss, and for once Ron did not feel uncomfortable. It had taken him a bit of time to get used to seeing his best friends in this new romantic role, but that was mostly because he had once dated Hermione. In truth, little felt changed about their dynamic.

“Five points from Gryffindor for running in the hallways, and five points for a public display of affection” Ron chimed in, and the three of them laughed.

“Oh come here, both of you!” Hermione said, throwing her arms around their necks and pulling them into a three-way hug. “Do you know just how much I love you both?”

“Enough that it's hurting me” Ron responded, pretending to be crushed by her embrace.

She kissed his cheek and suddenly the mood shifted to a far more serious tone. “We're going to get through this. Together.”

“Together” the boys replied in unison, and she couldn't help herself but hug them once more.

Afterwards, she immediately resumed her half-jogging pace to finish the tasks of the day. As she made her way to the makeshift medical wing she heard a commotion in the armory and she paused to look inside. Nobody could find the armory without being given access to it by a Malfoy, but there were many strange guests at the house thanks to the Bloody 65th, and she was concerned that someone might be ransacking the Malfoy family's many heirlooms.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing through the room. She heard a scuffling sound in the back and a moment later Ginny appeared, walking briskly towards the exit. “What are you doing in here?”

“Do I need a hall pass?” Ginny asked, her voice squeaky and defensive.

“What? No… I…”

“I'm late for leading a training round with the Bloody 65th” Ginny said, quickly making her leave.

That was odd Hermione mused, left alone in silence. A moment later Draco came sauntering into view, a smug look upon his features. Hermione scrambled to put the pieces together. “Are you… was she…”

“Don't worry yourself about it Granger” he grinned. “Are you looking for something?”

“No I just thought I heard a sound…”

“What sort of sound?” Draco asked, and she realized he was toying with her.

“Never you mind. I'll be on my way.”

“Wait Hermione-- one quick thing I wanted to show you.”

She thought to make a snide comment in return, something along the lines of “I have an idea that you may have already shown Ginny plenty”, but she bit it back. There was something about the way he said her name… something familiar. It struck her as odd, but she had no time to explore it as she suddenly realized that she was being levitated off the ground.

“Are you Channeling?” she asked, her voice hopeful and astonished.

“Yes” he said, looking quite proud of himself as he set her neatly back on the ground.

“How? Why now?”

“Didn't Harry tell you about how we were able to see into each others lives during the ritual?”

“Yes but--”

“Well, my biggest block to Channeling is that I spent so much time repressing my emotions that I couldn't use them to summon my powers. But Harry, well, he's just full of emotions isn't he?”

She wasn't sure how to feel about this. “You're using Harry's emotions to fuel your ability to Channel?”

“Yes.” She couldn't help but wonder just how much of Harry's inner thoughts and personal memories Draco had seen, and she suddenly felt quite uncomfortable under his gaze. He seemed to read this instantly, which only made sense. He had Harry's memories; he could probably read her quite well now. “Listen, I didn't see everything. In fact, most of it was a blur. More like scraps of thoughts and impressions overall.”

She let out a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. “I'd imagine it was still quite a powerful experience. Frankly, I'm glad I didn't go through it. It must be odd- knowing someone's internal workings like that.”

“It is odd” Draco admitted. “But it's also wonderful. It makes you appreciate life more I guess. It makes you appreciate life more when you realize that the world doesn't revolve around you.”

Hermione laughed loudly at this. “Of course it would take a near death experience involving an ancient ritual to make YOU realize that the world doesn't revolve around you.”

He smiled at this and for once it wasn't a smug grin, but a genuine smile. “So, I've been in Harry's head, isn't there anything you'd like to ask?”

She paused for a moment, not having considered this. “No… no, I think I've gotten close enough to spending time in his head already. If there are things I don't know about, I look forward to having a life together to find them out.”

Draco nodded, not expecting this answer, but somehow understanding. As she left he held back the one thing he wanted to tell her; that of all the emotions he had experienced through Harry's memory; fear, anxiety, pain, loss, hope… love was the greatest. And of that love, it was Hermione, always Hermione, that stood out like a burning beacon in his thoughts.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Everyone stood assembled on the lawn of Malfoy Manor. They all had their part to play, and this time Harry decided no morale boosting speech was needed. Each and every one of them knew the plan, and they knew the score. The sun was just starting to rise and he was reminded of Draco's memory of watching the sun come up over Hogwarts.

It had been determined that he, Draco and Jiao would take point in seeking out Damon. Others had been designated as squadron leaders in a plan that combined military tactics and the intel they had been able to gather about Damon's Children. Their previous two encounters with the enemy had been disastrous, but they had also been ill prepared. Not this time however.

As Harry watched the sun rise, Ginny Weasley stood with her mother and father, thinking about a strange occurrence the previous day.

She was finishing a training routine with some members of the Bloody 65th when Draco had appeared in the doorway. At first she didn't notice him as he stood there, leaned against the doorjamb in a casual position of studied indifference. When she did see him there and they locked eyes she assumed he would make some sort of teasing remark about her skills as a great warrior. Instead, he was looking at her in a way that made her face grow hot and her focus become divided.

“What do you want?” she asked when the training was finally over, the members of the Bloody 65th limping out of the room.

“You need to grab your armor for tomorrow” he said.

“Oh right” she muttered, having entirely forgotten about the dragonhide armor that Draco had lent them in the previous battle. It had saved Hermione's life, so she wasn't about to forgo it. She followed him to the armory and he was surprisingly silent for once. When they arrived at the row of ancient sets of armor Draco wordlessly levitated a set down from its stand and she looked at him in surprise. “You can Channel!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, because of the ritual Harry and I performed things are somewhat different for me now. And there's something else, something I want to do before we go into battle.” Without another word of explanation he pulled her towards him and kissed her. It was unlike any kiss she had shared before; it wasn't sweet and shy like the kisses she had shared with Harry, nor was it wild and untamed like the embraces of lovers she had known before. Draco kissed her in a way that spoke of controlled passion, carefully placed desire. His mouth tasted of mint and any reservations she had about her odd attraction towards her family's former enemy dissolved as she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands found their way to her hips. He pinned her against the wall as her fingers found their way into that soft silver blonde hair that she had been dreaming about touching.

There was a sudden sound from the doorway and they broke apart quickly. Before he had a chance to explain she quickly left the room, unsure of what had just transpired.

She didn't regret their encounter… far from it. In fact, she could not stop thinking of it. Nevertheless, she didn't know what any of it meant. Was it a momentary physical response, an inevitable outcome of repressed sexual tension? Or was there something between them? She wasn't sure how she felt about him still, but she supposed it didn't matter. If she was about to face her potential death, snogging Draco Malfoy pre-battle wasn't the worst way to pass some time.

She was suddenly snapped back to reality as the signal was given for her squadron to portkey to the battle location. She said a little prayer to no deity in particular, and then they were gone.

`''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The first tactic of the battle strategy was to silently flank Damon's camp, and so far that was going quite well. Hermione was crouched beside Luna and Ron, waiting for the attack signal. It felt strange being on the offensive, but she hoped that this time the results would be better than past attempts. Outsmarting an immortal enemy was quite a bit trickier than it had been to outsmart Voldemort as eleven year olds. This time there were so many moving pieces, so many soldiers and strange spells. She could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears and she slowly calmed it, gazing up at the massive trees around them. This would be so beautiful under different circumstances she realized, watching a fluffy white cloud drift across the clear blue sky.

She looked at Ron and Luna who were holding hands so tightly that she could see their knuckles turning white. Since Luna could not Channel, Ron had not wanted her in the battle. He had tried to declare that her abilities as a medium were far too valuable to have her out there in harms way, but the former Ravenclaw student would have none of it. She was stuck to Ron's side like glue, and while it was a match that Hermione never would have predicted it also made perfect sense to her.

For her part, she had tried to convince Harry to see reason in having her face Damon by his side. She was quite a strong Channeler. In fact, now that Harry had put Riddle's pendant aside she was just as powerful as him, and she had proven that in a duel once he was feeling healthy enough. Still, he had made a valid argument regarding the need to have her present in other parts of the battle field. Even the “soldiers” they had gone into battle with last time were nothing more than a collection of friends with a mixture of disciplines ranging from aurors to Quidditch players to low level ministry employees. Some of them could Channel quite well, while others still required the assistance of their wands. On the other hand, the members of the Bloody 65th were seasoned warriors, but they had only just begun to learn to Channel. In short, Hermione was needed to lead in other areas of the battlefield, and so they just had to have faith that when the dust settled they'd both be alive still.

I choose loving you to be my destiny.

When the attack signal came, she was as ready as she could possibly be, and yet far from being truly ready. They rushed towards the camp at full speed and it was immediately clear that this time they were not expected. Damon's Children poured out from their tents in a frantic manner and initially tried to apparate away, but wards had been put up to stop them. Hermione had already stunned five of Damon's Children before they managed to start firing back. The enemy responded with harsh and angry spells, going for the kill each time. She dodged one spell and the next knocked her off her feet and behind a tent that was immediately set on fire. Coughing she scrambled away from the hot flames and stunned the nearest soldier, looking around to gain her bearings.

She saw that Luna had fallen but Ron was helping her up so she focused her attention back to the battle, moving ever further towards the center of the camp, all the while looking for any sign of Harry or Damon. She wasn't sure if it took her mere minutes or several hours to battle her way to the center of the camp, but when she got there she saw that those of Damon's Children who had not been stunned, wounded or killed were huddled in the center of the camp, trying to make one last desperate stand as Hermione's allies closed in on them. There was a brutal exchange of spells for some time, and then finally they began to surrender.

When each of their enemies were safely stunned and bound as prisoners, those still standing on her side went about putting out fires and tending to the wounded. There were dozens of casualties on their side, but even more were missing as they had used their emergency portkey to evacuate back to the medical wing after being injured. She wondered how many more might be dying on a cot at Malfoy Manor, and that thought finally stunned her to a point she felt she could no longer go on. Everything was done, the battle was over, but there was no sign of Harry, Draco, Jiao or Damon. Ron and Luna were also missing, and Hermione imagined Ron must have gotten Luna back to safety, but she had no idea what condition the girl might be in.

Girl. That word echoed in her mind. She was just a girl, in fact, most of these “soldiers” were practically children. They had seen so many battles, so much blood shed. It looked like the day had been a victory for the side of good, but could there really be a victory in the wake of so much loss?

She sat in the ashes of the battlefield and one of the soldiers from the Bloody 65th approached. “Okay there Miss Granger?” he asked, kneeling before her with a look of concern.

“No I'm not okay” she admitted. “I'm really not.”

He helped her to her feet and pressed an extra portkey into her hand. “We're nearly done here” he told her. “Why don't you head back to the Manor and check on things there. You fought bravely ma'am.”

She nodded dumbly and disappeared as the Portkey pulled her away in a dizzying fashion. She felt she should wander the woods in search of Harry, but her mind felt fuzzy and she couldn't focus, so she simply followed orders like a good soldier. As she walked the halls of the Manor she found herself unable to go to the medical wing just yet. She thought about Harry's story of slaying the demons. Each time I killed them I gazed into those empty eyes and watched as in the very last moments their souls returned. As their blood dripped down my hands and they took their last breath I was looking into the eyes of a human being- not a monster but a regular fucking human being.

She hadn't killed anyone to the best of her knowledge, but there had been deaths on both sides and now she felt the same sense of emptiness that had followed her after the Battle of Hogwarts. What was it all for? she wondered as she perched herself by a tall window overlooking one of the Manor's many overgrown gardens. As she pressed her forehead against the glass there was a ripple in the reflection and she turned quickly as she realized someone was behind her.

“Harry” she gasped as she saw him standing there, fully alive but impossibly dirty. She flung herself into her arms and he caught her, clinging to her as though she was a lifeline, and in that moment she was. She was filled with so many questions, but there in his arms, none of them mattered. He was alive and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably- tears pent up over months of hiding, fighting and avoiding death.

When the tears passed he said three simple words, “Damon is gone” and she kissed his ash smudged face over and over, as though through physical contact she could express sympathy for the strange emptiness and pain she knew he was experiencing. They walked hand and hand to the medical ward then, finally ready to face the true damage of the day.

The scene they walked in on was a busy one, but it lacked the chaos of their previous battle with Damon and his Children. They had been better prepared this time, and the Bloody 65th had brought their own resources to help mend the wounded. They found Ginny helping heal Fleur Delacour's broken leg and they were able to confirm that all the Weasleys had made it out alive. They found Ron gathered with Luna, who had suffered an internal injury that was mending “just fine” according to a medi-wizard from the Bloody 65th.

Ron wrapped both of them in a quick hug before returning to Luna's side. “We made it through again” he said with crooked smile that somehow seemed sadder than any tears.

“We did” Hermione said, leaning against Harry as she took Ron's hand in hers. Luna awoke then, looking drowsy.

“I'm alive” she said, sounding confused.

“Yes, you're alive love” Ron responded, his voice thick with emotion. “And now that it's all over I've been meaning to ask you… will you go on a date with me?”

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6 MONTHS LATER

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Ginny and Hermione sat on the deck of Hermione's cozy home, sunning themselves and enjoying a few glasses of Singing Mermaid cocktails. The sweet beverages reminded Hermione of Caitlin O'Rourke, Harry's former partner who had died trying to save her and the Weasleys during the attack of the Burrow. It was bittersweet to think of the fiery auror, but in a strange way sharing this drink felt like she was honoring O'Rourke's memory.

“I don't think it's really anything more than sex, but it's been bloody fantastic…” Ginny trailed on, snapping Hermione back to reality.

“Ugh, if I have to hear another gross detail about you and Draco Malfoy I swear to Merlin I'll tell Ron.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Ginny gasped, tilting her sunglasses down to shoot Hermione a look of indignation.

“Wouldn't I? You're lucky he hasn't figured it out yet.”

“He's too busy being sickeningly in love with Luna” Ginny sighed. “If they're not married and popping out kids by this time next year I'll be surprised.” Hermione laughed and took another sip of her drink. “What about you and Harry? Plans to pop out kids anytime soon?”

Hermione blushed at this and looked away. Her and Harry was a difficult topic. Ron and Luna had found solace in each other after the battle with Damon was ended, and even Ginny and Draco seemed to have found some strange (and horribly kinky) way of moving on. But it hadn't been as easy to Harry and herself. He was damaged in ways far deeper than Ginny and even Ron realized. She had been doing her best to help him recover, but she was haunted by her own demons. After a far too long pause all she said was, “I'm much too busy with work to think about a family right now.”

It wasn't entirely untrue. Once the truth about Damon and his Children had been divulged to the wizarding world there had been an endless number of legal issues in determining how to try and incarcerate his followers. She had been adamant that she be a part of every committee dealing with the details of these proceedings, as she did not trust them to be handled fairly and adequately. After all, the Ministry did not have the best track record for properly prosecuting wrong doers, and there was the further issue that Damon might still have sleeper agents at any level of the government. It was all truly exhausting, and yet hard work was therapeutic for her.

Harry had no such respite. He had taken an extended leave of absence from his role as an auror, claiming that he was still healing from the poisoning debacle. Only Hermione, and perhaps Draco, knew the truth of the matter. Draco had mostly been in hiding lately, returning to is habit of sulking around the Manor as he figured out what to do with his life now that he had gone from villain to hero. His only guests were Harry and Ginny, but that seemed to be all he wanted for now.

“Well, I best be headed out” Ginny said, standing up and stretching. “The media has been in an absolute frenzy over my return to the Holyhead Harpies. Have you seen the headlines?”

“Yes, `Warrior Witch to Return to Quidditch Pitch'” Hermione quoted. “They really are obnoxious about the rhyming thing at the Daily Prophet.”

“Tell me about it” Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. “Well, give Harry my best, I'll see you both at the Burrow for Sunday dinner?”

“Of course” Hermione responded. Harry had been adamant about footing the bill in the reconstruction of The Burrow, which had been totally burned to the ground. Thankfully, with the best magic money could buy the house was nearly perfectly restored to its former wonderful strangeness.

Once Ginny was gone Hermione sighed and decided it was time to go inside and find Harry. As she entered the house she was once more struck with the sense of happiness at being back home. She had to admit; she did not miss living at the Manor one bit. Here she had all of her favorite books, her comfortable furniture, her beloved kitchen and her massive bed that she no longer slept in alone.

She found Harry wandering around in her study and she sighed. This had been happening all too often. Since his separation with Riddle he would tend to lose focus at times, and always seemed to be searching for some unknown object he felt that he had misplaced. It was truly heart breaking.

He looked up at her and she was surprised to see that he did not have the usual lost look in his eyes she had grown accustomed to. Instead, there was a look of mischief that she had not seen in some time. “What are you up to?” she asked warily.

“Nothing” he shrugged. “Take a look in your desk drawer.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and walked around to take a look. When she opened the drawer there was a single brochure lying on top of her neatly filed stacks of parchment. “What is this?” she asked, opening it to see beautiful scenic pictures from all over the world.

“Why Miss Granger, have you forgotten how to read? And here I thought you were supposed to be the most brilliant witch of your age.”

He laughed and she nudged him in the ribs, unable to believe how good it made her feel to hear that laugh again. “I can see that it's a brochure for a world tour vacation, but what's it doing in my desk?”

“I bought us two passes. It's a muggle trip so it'll take a month, but we'll be able to see all of these places… and not because we're chasing evil, but because we're on a normal vacation. You know, the kind where you go swimming at the beach and get drunk and visit all sorts of historic sights that I'm sure you'll tell me a billion facts about…” she opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “I know what you're going to say, you're swamped with work right now, and that's okay. It's open ended; whenever things calm down we'll go. I mean, that is, if you want to go.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that this is so wonderful and I can't wait.” She kissed him them, unable to wait another moment, and he deepened the kiss, lifting her up onto the desk so that he was positioned between her thighs as they continued to get carried away in each other.

When they broke apart he began to speak. His tone was incredibly soft and gentle for a man who had been through all of his life experiences. “I'm sorry things have been so crazy this year, and I know I haven't always been… present. But Hermione… I love you. I've always loved you, and whether we're fighting evil or just being a normal boring couple arguing about what to make for dinner, I'll always love you. I'm sorry it took me being possessed by a lunatic to realize it, and I'm sorry that it required another series of near death experiences for me to express it, but I want to spend the rest of my life making that up to you.”

“And you will” she whispered in response. “We choose our own destinies.”

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**Author's note***

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And that's a wrap! I know it leaves certain questions unanswered (such as, what happened to Damon in the battle? What did Hermione do with the pendant? Etc…). However, I wanted to leave some mystery to the story for two reasons 1) because life never wraps up perfectly neatly and 2) in case I decide to write a sequel.

I already have many ideas about the sequel, but I don't want to make any promises, as I've been incredibly busy as of late. So hopefully this is a satisfactory enough ending, but if the reviews claim the contrary I'll consider an epilogue.

My great appreciation for reading along with this story, it's been a lot of fun to write and I'm so happy to have been able to complete it. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts!

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