Eternal

Sirius had been walking for hours. The scenery had not changed - he was still in the dimly light marble hall. It seemed to stretch forward for many miles. His mind, however, was much improved. He was no longer groggy and dazed. He remembered exactly what had happened before he had awoken into darkness.

Bellatrix, his least favorite cousin. How dare she! It was not fair to say he had hated her, but he had never liked her. She was mad, obsessed with pure blood and pride, obsessed with darkness. Sirius had never taken her rants seriously as a child, preferring to scoff at her outdated ideas. Seeing her fresh from Azkaban, her dark hair a wild tangle and her normally sleepy eyes alight with passion, he had finally understood the depths that she was willing to sink to. They had dueled, she had cursed him. The memory of the pain was still enough to make him wince, although he had no idea what spell she had fired at him. It could not have been Avada Kedavra, he was certain of that. Otherwise he would not be here. The wretched pain on the back of his head, and the stiff, matted blood told him he was still alive.

The light was growing closer, that much was certain. Sirius could hear faint sounds from that direction as well, which sounded almost like voices, though he could make out no words. Several times he had tried shouting, but no answer ever came back, and he could see no one ahead.

Sirius withdrew his wand from his cloak. It had been beside him when he had awoken on the hard floor; yet another indication that he was not dead. He performed his usual transformation, mumbling the familiar words, and resumed his shape as a large, black dog. There, that was better. The pain was much less intense in his Animagus state, as animals could tolerate much higher levels of pain. Dogs could travel much faster then humans on foot also. He picked up the wand in his teeth, made sure he had a good grip on it, and started to run towards the light.

Harry looked up as Hermione rushed over to the Gryffindor table, breathless. She was panting somewhat and her face was bright red.

"Where did you go?" Harry asked, giving her a sharp look. It was unlike her to be so secretive.

Hermione shrugged. "I, er, forgot something actually. I've got it now." She started to heap her plate with sausages and toast. "Pass the marmalade Harry."

He complied. Hermione spread the marmalade on her toast and begin to take huge bites, as though she was in a rush, or starving.

"Are you going up to the library after this?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I thought I'd go before class, just to be ready, you know. I mean, of course I've read all the books for this year but you can never be too informed."

"Right," Harry answered skeptically. "Well, I think I may join you. I've got Occulemency tonight with Snape, and if I haven't improved any since last year he'll kill me."

Hermione turned pale. "Oh. Ah, are you sure you want to go now? It's so early! Maybe you and Ron can practice Quidditch some before class. You're probably rusty, from having all last year off."

Harry did not like to be reminded of the ban. It made him think about Fred and George, and all the other people who were with him no longer. "I played Quidditch all summer."

"I see," Hermione said. She was clearly preoccupied. "Um, well, maybe you ought to get studying. You know, read up. I'm sure you haven't finished all the textbooks yet."

Harry had not finished any of them, actually, so he gaped at Hermione. Still, he reasoned with himself, it couldn't hurt any to be prepared. Snape was bound to be nastier then usual, since he had to give Harry the Occulemency lessons. It would do no harm to be ahead in Potions for once.

"You're right," Harry decided, munching the last bit of toast. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I'll bring my Potions book up to the library and study with you."

"No!" Hermione gasped. Harry gave her a sharp look and she quickly recovered. "Um, on second thought, don't. Why waste your time on the first day?"

"Hermione, what's going on?" Harry questioned. "I can't handle you acting so weird."

"I'm not," she protested. "I just, well, can't you keep Ron occupied for a bit? He's been like a shadow to be all summer. I need some time alone."

Harry smirked. "Sure, okay. We'll go flying if that's what you want, but you should really tell him, Hermione. He's going to follow you everywhere you go. He has a crush on you."

"I wish he wouldn't. He gets so jealous," Hermione complained. "I love Ron, don't misunderstand, but I can't stand when he acts possessive. He's s friend, not a lover."

Laughing, Harry patted Hermione on the head. "You may as well get used to it, Hermione. He's had a crush on you as long as I can remember."

Hermione reddened. She pushed her plate aside as if the toast was suddenly poisonous. "Can I trust you with a secret? A big one?"

Harry nodded. "Of course."

Hermione glanced around the Great Hall, which was empty save for two Ravenclaw girls poring over their Transformation text books.

"Well, it's like this," Hermione started, leaning closer to him. She blushed, as if what she had to say was profoundly embarrassing. Her eyes darted around the hall once more, and she jumped back in surprise.

"Morning," greeted Ron, who had sauntered up to the Gryffindor table. He was rubbing his eyes, which were still puffy from sleep, and his red hair was sticking up in all directions. He had put on his robes, however, instead of wearing maroon pyjamas to the table. "You're up early then."

Hermione pursed her lips, obviously displeased to be interrupted. She patted Harry on the shoulder and shot him a look, then picked up the stack of books beside her. "Good morning," she called as she hurried away across the Great Hall.

"What's with her?" Ron wanted to know. He watched her go for a moment, and then he sat down and immediately started to help himself to scrambled eggs, pears, sausage and toast.

Harry shrugged. "No clue. She's been really flighty since we boarded the train. I don't know why." He felt a little bad to be lying, but whatever secret Hermione was keeping she obviously did not care to share it with Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Probably didn't memorize something for Professor Vector. I swear, all summer, even when she visited she was preoccupied with homework. There is more to life then school."

"I think it's more serious then that," Harry replied. "She was up early talking to someone in the fireplace. She's up to something again."

Ron made a very disgusted face. "Probably Vicky," he spat, frowning. Despite his admiration for the Bulgarian Seeker, Ron was quite jealous of the relationship Hermione had with Viktor Krum. Although Hermione insisted that it was nothing beyond pen pals, Ron had his doubts.

"It wasn't," Harry corrected, finishing his pumpkin juice. He was not very hungry for breakfast, unlike Ron. Just thinking of his lessons later that day made Harry jittery.

Instead of cheering up Ron looked all the more perturbed. "Well, of all the - who does that girl think she is? It's probably another boyfriend come out of the woodwork."

"I'll ask her," Harry promised, secretly thinking Ron could be right. "She was going to tell to me just now, before you came in."

"Now you see that's just like her!" Ron smacked his hand down on the table hard enough to make the dishes bounce. "She'll confide in you, but not in me? Some girlfriend."

"She's not your girlfriend," Harry pointed out logically.

Ron glared at him. "Thanks, Harry," he remarked sarcastically, chewing his toast violently.

Harry shrugged and changed the subject. "I'm heading out to do some flying. I'm a tad rusty. You care to join me?"

"It's too early," Ron moaned. "I'm tired. Maybe I will practice tonight though, if you're still up for it."

"You're sure? It's a beautiful day, good practice weather."

"No," Ron said in a sulky tone. "I'm going to have a chat with Hermione. Make it clear how I feel about her once and for all."

It was Harry's turn to frown. Even as preoccupied as he was, Harry was not an idiot. He could put two and two together, and had seen Hermione's shocked and troubled face when Snape had appeared, lecturing his Slytherin captive. Although he was not certain what was going on, Harry felt confident in his opinion that Hermione, for whatever reason, was taken with a Slytherin.

"That's not the best idea, mate," Harry suggested in his calmest tone. "We just started the term! She'll be too wrapped up in her books to notice."

"I'll have to make her see beyond the books then," Ron mused. "I'm tired of waiting for her to get over this idiotic thing she has for Viktor. I'll just tell her how it is."

Harry sighed. "Ron, don't do it."

"You're supposed to be my friend," Ron pointed out. "You know moral support and all that rubbish?"

"Sorry. I just think you should wait. She'll just get mad." Harry stood up and stretched, running his fingers through his messy black hair. It stuck out at all angles, although not as bad as Ron's at the moment.

"I don't see why. Look, I'll just ask her if she wants to go do something, just the two of us, next Hogsmeade weekend. She can't get mad about that. She wants to go to that tea shop."

Ron started to stand up, but Harry reached for his arm. "Look, Ron, don't!" Harry insisted. Harry's arm brushed Ron's goblet, spilling pumpkin juice all over the table and unfortunately over Ron's robes.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why did I even bother waking up?" He stood up and tried to brush the juice away with his napkin. The orange stain grew darker. Ron stepped away from the table looking disgusted. He threw the napkin on the table and gave Harry a final glare before rushing from the Great Hall.

Harry stood there for a moment, feeling stupid. A part of him wanted to run after Ron and be a supportive friend, but he also felt that Ron was being an idiot. It was plain to see that Hermione wasn't interested. After a bit of deliberation, Harry hurried upstairs to his room, grabbed his Firebolt and went outdoors.

The grass was still damp from dew, and the sun had just started to rise over the immaculate Quidditch pitch. There was not a soul on the field, much to Harry's relief. He mounted the broom, kicked off, and soon found himself soaring high above the ground.

With the cool wind in his face, Harry found it simple to let the concerns of the morning drain away. Occulemency was hours away, and Ron would definitely be by his side by the time they had their first class. As for Hermione, with the soft light of the rising sun at his back, Harry found himself untroubled. Who cared, really, if she did fancy a Slytherin?

He soared in circles around the pitch, veering closer to the stands then he normally dared do during a game. There was no Snitch, no pressure, and Harry allowed his mind to wander. He remembered years earlier, when he had been so frightened of death Omens, believing that he saw Grims wherever he went. With a smile he recalled seeing Sirius, transformed into a great black dog, watching him from the stands. How long ago that seemed! Harry felt as though he was a completely different person then he once had been.

A glint of green from the opposite side of the pitch caught Harry's eye, and he turned sharply on the broom, expecting to see Ron. Instead he made out a blonde figure, sitting alone on the highest stands.

Curious, Harry flew towards the figure, gasping when he suddenly made out the pale face and thin body of his nemesis, Draco Malfoy. Harry circled the stands once, wondering what Draco was planning. Was he spying? Planning sabotage? Harry flew to the ground and dismounted; feeling considerably less carefree then he had a moment before.

He stalked back towards the school, sparing one final glance over his shoulder at the spot where Draco had been sitting. There was no one there at all. Harry rubbed his eyes, looked over again, and sighed. Perhaps he was imagining things. He walked back to the school, trying to think about something else.

"Then where were you, Hermione?" Ron's voice, filled with hostility carried over to where Harry was standing, having just entered the common room. He had eaten dinner alone at the Gryffindor table, despite repeated invitations to join the Creevy brothers, who were in good spirits as usual. All of his classes had passed in a blur - luckily he did not have Potions until the next day - and Harry had been quite content to dwell on his own thoughts at dinner.

"Not that it's any of your business, Ron, but I went for a walk," Hermione shouted back, sounding very irritated. Harry looked up.

Hermione and Ron were standing before the fire, fighting. Hermione's face was beet red. Ron, by contrast, was as pale as a ghost save for two plum colored spots high on his cheeks. His fists were clenched, the knuckles white and bloodless.

"I checked Hagrid's! I was even by the lake," Ron quipped. "So unless you're walking around under an Invisibility cloak, I'd say you're lying."

Hermione glared at him with her hands on her hips. "Oh, Merlin's beard, Ron, what's it to you?"

"Well, I, er, it's, I'm just watching out for you, is all," Ron sputtered. He frowned, looking rather childish.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This has nothing whatsoever to do with being jealous of Viktor Krum?"

"Jealous," Ron spat. "What do you - are you mad, I, Hermione, you're being a nutter. You think I'm jealous that Viktor goes out with you? Madness!"

"Give me another reason that you always get so bitter looking when I mention his name," Hermione challenged. "Or give me another reason that you wasted the morning trying to find me."

"It's not jealousy, if that's what you're thinking," Ron declared. "I'm not jealous."

"Of course you're jealous," Hermione shot back. "I'd like to see you get a date." The moment the words were out, she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. That was terrible of me. I didn't mean it."

Ron shot a hurt glance her way. "I see. Well, fine then," he said softly, sounding quite wounded. He turned, keeping his chin up despite tears brimming in his eyes, and walked towards the steps to the boy's dormitory.

"Ron," called Hermione. She watched him walk away with a sad expression. As she turned to sit down she caught sight of Harry, standing in the corner looking shocked.

"Oh, Harry," she said, rubbing her head as though it pained her. "I don't know why I said that."

"I'll talk to Ron," Harry promised. "For now though, I had better go catch up with Snape. Remedial Potions, don't you know."

Hermione nodded. "Good luck then. I suppose I'll turn in, myself. I don't know what's gotten into me."

Harry waved and clambered out through the portrait hole and trudged slowly towards the dungeons. It was colder down there at night, and even more shadowy then usual. There were distant, muted sounds, like bats flying, although he had never seen any.

Harry knocked once at Snape's door, hoping the Professor would not be in. Although he had casually agreed to resume Occulemency lessons, careful consideration had revealed that to be a folly. Harry could not understand why he had willing condemned himself to more hours with Snape. His faith in Occulemency was at an all time low, and he had never trusted the Potions Master, who seemed to hate him equally.

The door opened and there stood Snape, dressed in crisp black robes. He looked different for some reason that Harry could not place. Then Harry noticed his hair, which, instead of being greasy looked freshly washed. It was a dramatic improvement that made Snape look respectable and even somewhat dashing.

"Potter," Snape said by way of greeting. He stepped back to allow Harry to enter the classroom. "I presume you've not practiced recently."

Harry nodded. "No offense, Professor. My mind has been on other things."

"Hmmm, Sirius Black, no doubt," Snape said. He looked away for a moment. When he glanced back at Harry his eyes were cold, compassionless. "You will never make progress if you allow yourself to dwell on the past."

"The past happens to be important to me," Harry replied, frowning. Easy for Snape to say, considering the horrors of Snape's past. No wonder he didn't care to remember.

"In any case, Potter, you are now to clear your mind of any thoughts. You're lucky to be given this warning. Anyone else reading your mind would not prepare you for it," Snape said softly. He fixed Harry with a rather stern look, as though expecting appreciation.

"I can't," Harry informed him. "All of my thoughts are occupied with Siri- are occupied. I can't just forget everything."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Then your skills shall not improve. Either try, and try with all your might, or don't bother. You may as well be playing some idiotic game, Exploding Snap, perhaps, if you are unwilling to work for this."

Harry sighed. Tempted though he was to take Snape's advice Harry knew he would face the Professors wrath in Potions if he left. Besides, he told himself, this was important. It was Ron and Hermione at stake.

He closed his eyes, cutting off his view of Snape's displeased face. As always his first thoughts were on Sirius, although the disagreement between Hermione and Ron was also a concern. Harry forced himself to push the thoughts away and to fill his mind with blank space. He opened his eyes.

He was hit, a fraction of a second later, with the spell. For a split second he saw himself clinging to a tree branch for dear life as an angry Ripper barked below him. Then he pushed back. It was an insulting memory really. None of Snape's business! Why didn't the nosy git keep his mind on his own concerns? Harry felt himself getting very angry with Snape, who obviously took pleasure in dredging up old memories. He fought back, blocking Snape out.

A second later Harry's mind was clear. Snape was crumpled against the wall, rubbing his shoulder and looking a bit worse for wear. As he stood, he glared at Harry. "Fair. No better. Try again."

Squashing his outrage, Harry again tried to clear his mind. It was much more difficult the second time. Occulemency took a great deal out him.

Snape hit him with the spell, and Harry's thoughts turned to the Department of Mysteries. He could see Sirius, dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange. His god father sported a carefree, almost cocky grin. Harry could hear the sound of Bellatrix cursing and the Death Eater's laugh of triumph as Sirius crumpled. The pain and anguish was intolerable.

When the thought cleared, Harry found himself on his knees in the dungeon with tears running down his face. Harry forced himself to stop crying as his mind focused again on the present. Furious with himself, he wiped the tears away with his arm and stood up, glaring at Snape. The Professor was eyeing him warily. "Concentrate, Harry, concentrate on what you are supposed to be learning."

"It's a bit difficult just now," Harry snapped back, furious. "I've got pictures of my dead god father in my head."

"And you don't want to push those thoughts away, since you have so few memories of Sirius," Snape spoke, softly. His voice was silky, as it often was when he was displeased, although Snape did not appear unhappy. "It must be difficult."

"I'm fine," Harry retorted, climbed to his feet. He forced himself not to think of Sirius, or the Department of Mysteries, as difficult as that was. Snape had no business there. The Potions Master had always hated Harry's god father. Harry felt a momentary dislike for Snape, and then his mind became a blank black slate once more.

For an instant, Harry allowed Snape to invade his mind. Images of the Knight Bus came forth, from when Harry was so afraid and on the run from the law. Harry realized what was happening and pushed back. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix Lestrange and her hateful face, and then pushed again at Snape.

One of the memories was familiar to Harry - Snape, lying on his bed shooting flies. He was much younger then, still hateful looking. Then the scene shifted.

Snape was carrying a goblet of smoky, dangerous looking stuff into an office, an office that Harry recognized as Professor Lupin's. The former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was at his desk, grading an excessively long essay. He glanced up.

"Your potion, Remus," said Snape as he placed the goblet on the desk, carefully avoiding the papers. "Don't forget."

"I won't, thank you Severus," replied Lupin as he glanced over at the smoking drink. "It's very kind of you to make this. I'm lucky."

Snape walked around the desk until he stood beside Remus. His pale hand reached out and touched Lupin's face. "No, I'm the lucky one." He bent forward, bringing his face closer and closer to Professor Lupin's. Snape's eyes glittered as he reached out to kiss Lupin.

"Enough," hissed Snape, bringing Harry back out of his mind and into the cold Potions classroom. Snape was again on the floor, this time with a thin trickle of blood coming from his mouth.

"I, er, " Harry struggled to speak, still with pictures of Snape and Lupin in his mind.

"Clearly I need a Pensieve," Snape remarked bitterly. He did not seem enraged, however, the way he had been the last time Harry had snooped in his private thoughts. That had been different, however. Harry had explored the contents of the Pensieve, the thoughts Snape had tried to keep from him. Whatever had happened between Lupin and Snape, Snape had not considered it worth concealing.

"Er, sorry," Harry offered as he dusted himself off. "Another crack?"

"Not tonight." Snape went to the high backed chair behind his desk and sat down with a sigh.

Harry watched as Snape massaged his temples, frowning. Snape's eyes were cloudy as though his thoughts were in another place. Harry figured that he could guess what Snape was thinking about. "Shall I, er, go now?"

Snape looked up. A bitter sort of smile played around the corner of his mouth. "That would be a fine idea, Potter. May I remind you, what happens in this room stays here. I think we shall both find it to our benefit."

Harry nodded. "Of course." He really had no desire to be speaking to his friends, much less to be revealing the Professor's secrets.

"Very well. I shall see you tomorrow night. Practice tonight, before you go to sleep. Clear your mind." Snape rubbed at his head again. "I wonder what Hagrid will make of it."

"Hagrid, Professor?"

Snape offered another hint of a smile. "Potter has managed to accomplish something in his lessons. No doubt Hell has frozen over, and pigs now fly."