An Organ of Fire

Disclaimer: Never could have thought up most of this stuff on my own. I just tool around in JK Rowling's world.

Author's Notes: Big old thanks for the continued support of this story and all the sweet congratulations on my graduation. It went over as smoothly as two straight hours of names being continuously read out-loud can go. I didn't trip on my way across the stage, at least. And I sat next to a cute history major. Anyways, here's the next chapter I promised. I hope to get out another before Christmas, but don't hold me to that;)

Oh, and as for real notes...I don't know (and I don't think anyone is supposed to know) just how old James was when he died, but I've put him under 28 for this story. Sound about right? Okay, moving on. Um...Lupin's hard to write for. I hope I got his voice down right. All right, that's about all I have to say for now. Take care and enjoy!!

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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"That's not a good villian name. Good villian names are, like, Lex and Voldemort." -Andrew, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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"Bloody hell, kid." Remus Lupin shook his head as he held out his hand to help Harry to his feet. "You're entirely James now."

"Really?"

His father's old friend nodded, almost sadly. "James at twenty-eight. Or what I assume he would have..." He stopped. "Well, let's avoid that twist in memory lane, shall we?" Shaking his head of greying brown hair, he bent down to help Harry gather up his things. "Sorry if I startled you, by the way."

"You didn't. All right, only just a little. What are you doing here, Professor?"

"Harry, how many years has it been since I taught you?"

He accepted an armful of books from the older man. "I don't know. Fourteen or so?"

"So you're still calling me 'Professor' because...?"

"Because I haven't seen you in over a decade?"

Lupin smiled. "Fair enough. As for why I'm here...I'm worried." He continued as they started to walk. "As soon as I heard about what Sirius is supposed to have done..."

"You don't believe in then, either!" Harry let out a breath. "Finally, someone with common sense."

"I spent far too many years punishing Sirius in my mind for a crime he didn't commit. I'm not about to jump back into that without even trying to dig for the truth." They rounded a corner, narrowly escaping another collision, only this time with a group of Gryffindor first years.

Harry nodded and smiled at each "hello, Professor Potter" until they were past the children.

"Quite the popular teacher you are now, Harry."

"Well, I learned from the best." Lupin accepted the compliment without comment. "You were saying...um...Professor?"

Shooting Harry a raised eyebrow, he finished his thought. "I don't believe that Sirius signed anything against Muggle-borns. Some of his own family were Muggles. His maternal grandmother, if I remember correctly. Someone's obviously trying to frame him again. And I have a feeling it's that Malfoy kid everyone's been talking so much about. Even in America, they..."

"You've been in America?"

Lupin nodded. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've shown up, completely out of the blue, spouting off without any real explanations. Tell you what, I could do with some food. I haven't missed dinner, have I? I'm all turned around still. Apparating across the Atlantic can do that to you."

"Well, actually I was just heading to Hermione's for dinner." Harry smiled. "There's always plenty of food, even after Harry gets into it."

"Talking about ourselves in the third person now, are we, Harry?"

He blinked. "How long have you been abroad?"

"Eight years or so. I actually set out on a quest to find you, but you're damn invisible when you want to be, kid."

"Sirius...he never wrote to you about...anything? Having to do with Hermione and Ron and..." He stopped. "Nothing?" When Lupin shook his head, Harry took a breath. "They got married. Had a...had a child. Named him after me. And now Ron's...dead."

A long moment passed. "A loss to the world," Lupin finally said, his voice low. "He was a gifted wizard; I could tell, even at thirteen, that he'd grow out of his brothers' shadows."

Harry looked up at the vaulted ceilings and flying buttresses. There was so much he wasn't telling his father's best friend that he probably should. It just didn't seem like the right time or place. "Hermione would love to see you."

****

"Professor Lupin!!" Hermione approached her old teacher with a look of wonder on her face. "I heard you were in America!" She hesitated, then embraced him. "Welcome home!"

"I told you she'd be glad to see you," Harry grinned.

Lupin returned the smile, patting her back gently. "Hello, Hermione. I was in America, yes. I've only just returned."

Hermione drew back suddenly, a look of extreme shock etched onto her features. "Tonight is a full moon!!"

Harry's gaze shot to the tall window cut into the far wall of Hermione's apartment. Indeed, the moon hung in a perfect orb over Hogwarts. He looked back at Lupin. "Professor..."

"Still in top form, Hermione." The man, who should have been spending the evening as a deadly beast, pulled a vial of blue liquid from his robes. "A new potion, a stronger concentration of the wolfsbane potion I used to take, was discovered quite recently by an American witch. Handy, isn't it?"

"Marvelous is more like it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Might you have the breakdown of ingredients with you? I'd like to look at it."

Lupin replaced the vial. "All in good time, I promise. First, I owe Harry some answers. And..." He gave her a slightly sheepish look. "If you have any food to spare..."

"Of course! I was just about to get everything together. Take a seat." She pointed to the oak table. "Harry!" she yelled towards the staircase. "Come on down for dinner!"

As Harry and Lupin sat down, little Harry burst into the living room. He stopped upon seeing the stranger at the table. "Mum..."

Harry gestured to his son. "Harry...I'd like you to meet...an old friend of your mother's and mine, Mr. Lupin. Professor, this is Harry, Hermione and...Hermione's son."

Lupin held out a hand to the boy as though he were a grown man. "Good to meet you, Harry." He stopped when little Harry took the offered hand. The older Harry watched him carefully as he studied the boy. He winced when the man looked back at him with the same critical eye. Finally, Lupin nodded. "I see."

Fortunately Hermione chose that moment to re-enter carrying a platter of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Throughout the meal, Lupin filled Harry and Hermione in on the last eight years of his life. After giving up his search for Harry, he had traveled to America, earning a living for a brief time as the Defense teacher at the Salem Witches Institute. It was there that he had met Camilla, a widowed witch with a teenaged daughter attending the school. And it was for her that he had sought out the latest ways to keep his lycanthropy at bay.

"But when I heard that a Malfoy was putting himself in the public eye in Britain, I knew I had to return. And then hearing about Sirius..." Lupin rounded out his tale as Hermione brought out coffee and strawberry-rhubarb tarts. "I left Camilla back where it's safe, although I hope you can meet her someday."

"I hope so, too," Harry replied. "Professor...do you have any idea how we can neutralize Malfoy and correct all the damage he's managed to inflict?"

Lupin added cream to his coffee. "I'm not entirely sure it's that simple, Harry. I think, though, the first thing to do is contact Sirius."

"But if he's not himself..."

Sensing that the conversation was about to get heavy, Hermione turned to her son. "Can you take your dessert up to your room, love?"

Little Harry looked around at the adults. "You're talking about Mr. Malfoy, aren't you? And how he doesn't like Muggles."

"Harry, can you do as I ask?" Hermione continued, gently, but firmly.

He obeyed, but with obvious reluctance. Harry looked back at Hermione after their son had left. "He's as old as we were when..."

"I don't want him exposed," Hermione cut him off. Only Harry could have noticed the slight thickness in her waist as she stood to refill Lupin's cup. "Go ahead, Professor."

Lupin cleared his throat. "If something has happened to Sirius, we'll have to be careful how we word our letter. But sending one can only garner us more information. Dumbledore agrees with me. I spoke to him before we ran into each other."

"I'm just tired of sitting around on my arse, unable to do anything!" Harry slammed his cup back into its saucer. His eyes flashed jade daggers towards the table. "I can only write a bleeding editorial that probably won't do a thing!"

"It'll bait him, Harry." Hermione couldn't stop herself from touching Harry's shoulder. "He won't be able to ignore it. And it'll be his turn to play defensive."

"I agree with Hermione. I'll write to Sirius tonight just to tell him that I'm back. Depending on how he responds, we can plan our next move." Lupin smiled at Hermione. "Are there anymore tarts?" When she disappeared into the kitchen for the remainder, the older man leveled Harry with a hard stare. "Were you planning on telling me that the boy is your son?"

Harry shook his head. "That story will take more than just one meal."

****

Later that night, Hermione pumped Lavender's Luxurious Lotion into the palm of her hand and watched Harry pull down the covers on her bed through her dressing table mirror as she worked the concoction into her skin. "I'm glad he came. I know that we're the adults now, too, but it still feels...nice to know that we're not alone. You know what I mean?"

"I do." Harry stacked the pillows and slid between the sheets. He removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. "But...he knows about Harry."

She stood up with a sigh. "I'm not surprised."

"Are you upset?"

Hermione approached the bed. "No. Of course not." The smile she gave him was warm, but it faded after a moment. "Harry..." Her hands covered her belly. "Do I look..."

"A little," he replied. "It's not going to be too much longer that we can keep this a secret." Harry reached out to touch the place where their daughter grew within her. "I don't even want to anymore."

"I keep telling myself that we have to wait for the right moment. But I'm not sure what the right moment is." She got into bed; the sheets were cool and she instinctively sought the warmth of his body. "Any thoughts?"

Harry's eyes were half-closed. It had been an emotionally jarring day. "I think you should marry me. And then we wouldn't have to explain..." He yawned. "...anything to anyone."

"All right." Her reply was soft. "I'll marry you then." Unfortunately, Harry was already asleep. Hermione kissed his cheek, blew out the lantern, and settled back into the crook of his arm. "All you've ever had to do was ask, Harry."

She didn't bring up his sleepy proposal again. And as a handful of days turned into a week, she became convinced that it had been nothing more than a passing comment. What she didn't know about was the catalog Harry had picked up from Regina's Ravishing Regalia in Diagon Alley hidden in his dresser drawer between a pile of pajama pants, with the ring selection dog-eared.

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"Do you know what I think my favorite part is?" Hermione pushed aside her untouched breakfast and spread the Monday edition of the Daily Prophet out in front of her on the professor's table in the Great Hall. She cleared her throat dramatically and began to read aloud. "'Making up in connections what he lacks in cleverness, Draco Malfoy sees the world as something to manipulate. We are all just toys for a wizard who can't seem to grow up from his days as the school-bully. Allowing ourselves to fall under his spell is like bringing You-Know-Who back from the grave.'" She looked at Harry. "Wow."

He glanced up from the terrific shredding job he was performing on an innocent piece of toast. "I wanted to use 'Voldemort' there, but Ginny's editor changed it."

"No need ter be startin' a panic," Hagrid commented. "'Though I think the best part were where 'arry says that he's only half as dark as his father were and workin' a bit too hard a' catchin' up."

Down a few places, Snape pushed back his chair with a loud scraping noise and left the table.

"What's crawled up his robes?" Lupin asked, pointing to the man's back with his fork, on which a large piece of bacon was speared.

"It's hard for Severus." All eyes turned to Dumbledore, presiding over the Hall as the great leader he was. His ancient eyes were sympathetic. "He practically raised the young Malfoy. I'd imagine he feels quite a heavy burden of responsibility for how he's turned out."

Hermione folded up the paper. "It's not his fault."

"Not directly, maybe," Harry mumbled. "But still...here we are."

"Here we are," Dumbledore echoed.

"Actually, here we go." Hermione stood up. "First lessons in ten minutes," she informed the rest of the faculty. "Have a good day, all." She caught Harry's eye, giving him a look that was distinctly private before she started off.

After a proper amount of time had elapsed, Harry excused himself. He caught up with Hermione just outside of the History of Magic classroom. "You didn't eat anything," he blurted without any lead-in. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry. I'm just not fried-eggs-fine." She glanced over his shoulder, noting the trickle of second years heading her way. "Don't worry about us. We're tough."

He slipped a discreet hand into her robes; from any angle, it merely looked like the two professors were standing close together, talking. Harry covered her newly firm belly with his flattened palm. "I expect that if Malfoy has any response to the piece, it'll come within the next day or so. I might have to head to London. Before I do, I want to ask you..."

"Morning, Professor Weasley! Professor Potter."

They broke away instantly. Nodding to each other and to the second year Gryffindor whose greeting had ruined the moment, they each headed off to begin their separate mornings.

****

Harry met Lupin for a quick lunch in the rare break he had between his classes; he didn't even go to the Great Hall. Rather, the older man brought sandwiches to him and they ate at the desks while Harry tried to fill him in on the history behind little Harry's birth, without giving away his current relationship with the boy's mother.

"So..." Lupin swallowed a mouthful of ham and bread. "If anyone asks..."

"Harry's not mine," Harry finished up.

"Hmm." He took another bite; concern was evident on his face, but the matter-of-factness with which Harry discussed the matter dissuaded any further comment. "Oh, by the way, I got a letter off to Sirius finally. I think I wrote the damnable thing a hundred times. And I'm still not satisfied that it will promote an answer, but not raise suspicions."

Harry set down his half-eaten sandwich, his appetite suddenly lost. He picked up his mug of pumpkin juice and raised it. "Here's to a speedy reply." The rim of the mug rested against his lips for a long moment, but Harry didn't drink. Finally, he set it back down. "This holding pattern we're locked in is killing me."

"The calm before the storm."

"How much would I tempt fate if I said I wish it could all just happen already, as to be done with it?"

Lupin shook his head. "Never tempt fate, Harry, under any circumstances. She has a nasty way of rearing up and..."

There was commotion in the hallway, buzzing so loud it cut off the older man. Harry frowned and stood up. Dark blurs ran past the open doorway, students en masse, all heading in the same direction. "What on earth..." Abandoning his lunch, Harry ran out of the classroom, Lupin on his heels.

They joined up with the crowd of students; Harry reached for the first one whose name he could remember. "Priscilla," he addressed a startled-looking fourth year Hufflepuff. "What is all this?"

"I don't know, Professor." She shook her head, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. "They just said it was outside and we had to see it!"

"Who said? What is it?" Harry gave the girl an apologetic look. "Never mind." He looked back at Lupin. "Do you have a bad feeling about this?"

They came around a corner into the open corridor that framed the central courtyard. There was little light, save for the torches; the cloudy morning had turned into a stormy afternoon. Harry could feel the cool breeze before he even turned his head back around. "Yes," Lupin replied. "A very bad feeling."

In only a moment, the two men stepped onto grass from stone and joined what seemed to be the entire school in looking up at the heavy grey sky over Hogwarts.

The Dark Mark. Harry had only seen it like this one other time. And at that time, it had heralded Voldemort's return to the crowds gathered at the International Cup. Now, it hung over Hogwarts, an image straight out of the nightmares that had plagued him across most of Europe. He instinctively knew what it heralded now and who had put it there.

"Bloody hell!" Harry let the words slip out, despite the presence of his students.

Lupin stared at the Mark, never blinking. Even when the lightning, which had most of the children screaming, streaked across the sky, he made no move to look away. "Looks like he read your article."

"No...it's not th...fuck!"

Finally, his father's friend blinked and looked over at him. "What's wrong, Harry?" The younger man had both hands pressed against his forehead; after a second, he doubled over, still clutching his brow. "Harry?!"

"It's all right," Harry forced out between clenched teeth. "It happened...on Halloween, too. It's just...Mal.." He inhaled as the pain threatened to split his head open. "The Mark..."

Lupin already had an arm around his shoulder, leading him out of the crowd. They hadn't even made it to the edge of the courtyard before the first stinging drops of rain hit them. Like a dam had been lowered, rain poured down on Hogwarts. Harry and Lupin were caught in the stampede of children heading for cover.

Through the pain, Harry could hear a single voice cutting through the din. "Students! Head to your dormitories, immediately! Teachers, to the Quidditch green." After so many years, Dumbledore still had the power to be heard and instantly obeyed.

Harry straightened up as much as he could, ignoring the streams of students rushing past them. "I have to get out there and..."

"You can barely stand," Lupin said, pulling him in the opposite direction. The Boy-Who-Lived was in no condition to put up much of a fight. "Dumbledore will understand if you're not..."

Once again, he didn't get to finish the thought. Through the pushing mass of school-robed bodies, little Harry emerged, running straight for his father. Harry drew his hand away from his forehead as the boy reached him, out of breath and deathly pale. "Harry? What..."

"Mum," the child panted.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Little Harry shook his head. "I...I fell asleep studying and I had a...a dream. My mum...something's happened to her."

The pain was suddenly forgotten. "Hermione? She..." Harry looked around. "I didn't see her..." Before Lupin could stop him, Harry took off through the castle.

"Harry!" He could hear Lupin calling his name, could sense his former teacher and his son running after him, but Harry refused to slow down. Even when the throbbing pain returned, stronger than ever.

He tore through the halls, ducking his head into every classroom until he reached hers. But they were all empty, and only the last one he looked in had even any trace of her. Hermione's lesson plans were spread out over her desk. Notes on goblins decorated the chalkboard. The robe she had been wearing over her skirt and blouse that morning was neatly draped over the back of her chair. But the woman he loved was nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps she's already joined the others on the field," Lupin suggested. Harry's only indication that he heard this was to turn around and thunder out of the room, on a reverse course through the castle.

Once outside, the rain drenched whatever wasn't already wet within seconds. Water cascaded down the insides of his glasses, but Harry could see Snape and Hagrid running towards the Quidditch field with Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch.

"Hermione!" he shouted through the storm. His head tilted back; the Dark Mark was right above him. Rainwater gathered in his open mouth. "Hermione...where are you?!"

Pain shot through him so suddenly and with such severity that the next thing Harry knew was that his knees had hit the muddy ground. He tried to look up, but found that he couldn't even lift his chin under the weight of his agony. "Hermione."

He felt hands on his shoulders. Heard voices. Lupin, Snape, McGonagall. His son. Harry's eyes closed. It was then that he heard the one voice he had thought he never would again.

**She needs you, mate.**

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He blinked away rain, tears, shock. In the crowd gathered around him, the face...his first friend...his best friend. "Ron..."

**Find her, Harry. Before he hurts her.**

As he tried to stand, the pain emanating from his scar caught up with him. For Harry, the world became nothing but darkness and silence.

****

Just as quickly as he had drifted out of it, consciousness hit Harry like a cartoon anvil. He was lying in a bed, he realized as he sat up straight. The hospital wing. It was light, daytime. His head throbbed, but it was nothing like the pain that had knocked him out.

"Father."

Harry looked to his right. His son sat in a chair next to his bed, looking smaller than usual. His red hair was unkempt. The boy held out his glasses and after a moment of staring at them, Harry took them and pushed them onto the bridge of his nose.

"Father," little Harry began again. Now that he could see, Harry focused on the tear-stains streaking his son's cheeks. "I'm sorry." He sniffed. "I was supposed to help you look out for her. Dad told me to..." He stopped, his dirty hands trembling in his lap.

"Harry..." He was surprised at the soreness in his throat. "What...happened?"

The boy looked up, moisture welling up in his wide, green eyes. "We've looked everywhere for her. For two days. She's not here anymore."

He could feel the empty pit of fear forming in the bottom of his stomach. Cold sweat beaded on his temples and upper lip. "Hermione is..."

"She's gone." Their son spoke in a tiny voice. "Someone took her."

His hand shook as Harry raised the back of it to his mouth. The darkness could come and take him again; in those few seconds, he would have welcomed it. The one bright spot in his life...someone had taken her away. Malfoy had taken her away. She could be tortured, she could be dead, she could be hanging on for their child. But she wasn't where she belonged, and it was all because of him.

Ridding the world of Voldemort had been necessary. Destroying Draco Malfoy would simply be a pleasure.

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To Be Continued