When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ IX

Don't Stand So Close to Me

"Who do you need, who do you love, when you come undone?" Duran Duran

Hermione looked up from her work as Harry entered the common room. He'd left the cottage shortly after Sirius and Remus had run out into the garden, both wanting them to make the most of the ease that had been absent in recent days, to escape quickly to where he could think about what had just happened.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, "You look a little... odd."

"Er..."

"You do an' all," Ron agreed frowning. "Sort of pink... but pale."

"I... um... had a bit of an episode," he admitted, moving to the table they were sitting at and hunching over slightly, chewing a finger nail.

"Oh yeah," Ron grinned, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, "What've you done?"

"Er..."

"You said that already."

"I kn... Oh God, look, come with me..." He stood up and led them to the staircase up to the prefects' office. Mercifully it was empty - Seamus and Dean had given them interested looks when they'd stood up, and Harry had a feeling that their dorm would not have been a safe place to talk at all. They sat down and Harry had a strange sense of déjà vu as they gazed at him expectantly. "I um... took Gavin to the cottage."

Both of his friends continued to gaze expectantly. "And?" Hermione prompted finally.

"And... um..."

"What," Ron scoffed, grinning, "took him home to introduce to your folks, did you? I hope he didn't spill his tea on Remus's best table cloth."

Harry clipped him on the shoulder. "No!" he told him, impatiently, "But, um..." he turned pinker, "we sort of... er..."

"You sort of 'er' what?" Hermione asked, sounding for all the world like a mother forcing her child to confess to breaking a precious vase.

"...got caught." Harry's face lit up like a large cherry beacon.

"Doing what?" Hermione demanded, her voice going up an octave.

"Kissing..."

"Kissing?"

"And...stuff."

"Stuff?" she echoed flatly, with more than a hint of 'I don't like the sound of this'.

"Were you... naked?" Ron asked, scrunching up his nose.

"Ron!"

"Were you?" Hermione prompted.

"No..."

"Was Gavin?"

"NO!"

"Harry," she began sternly, "were you likely to become naked?"

Harry turned a perfect crimson and opened his mouth. He closed it again when nothing would come out.

"Oh my God!"

"I... well... I..."

"I don't bloody believe it." Ron shook his head in amazement, "First you snog him on the first date, now you're bloody shagging him! Fucking hell, Harry - your name's gonna have more red lights hanging from it than that Ravenclaw - what's'erface? Rebecca Fondle!"

"Rebecca Fennel, you idiot," Hermione tutted, not withdrawing her gaze from Harry for an instant.

"I AM NOT SHAGGING HIM!"

"Bloody doesn't sound like you had other plans to me!"

"Why does everyone assume that just because I'm gay I'm a male slag?" Harry practically shouted.

"Because you go around kissing people on the first date and God knows what else less than a bloody month all-in! What do you bloody expect, Harry?"

"For Christ's sake, Ron! Stop treating me like I'm Ginny or something! I'm not a bloody little girl that needs to be looked after!"

"Harry, were you going to?" Hermione asked levelly, her brown eyes scrutinising him carefully.

"No. As a matter of fact I wasn't!" Harry snapped, starting to sulk.

"So what were you caught doing?"

"Just... kissing... on my bed. And... sort of... t-touching a bit..."

Ron's forehead hit the table with a loud thunk.

"Harry," Hermione sighed, "I hope you know what you're doing..."

"What do you mean, 'know what I'm doing'? I'm just doing stuff I wanted to with my boyfriend! I came to you two because I wanted to tell you what happened, not so you'd lecture me! Even Remus didn't lecture me!"

"Harry, you really haven't been going out with Gavin very long-"

"So? What's that got to do with it? I like Gavin! I like him a hell of a lot and I wish everyone would stop trying to tell me that he's not good enough for me or he's not right or whatever! It's bloody annoying and it's my choice!"

"No one has said Gavin isn't good enough, Harry..."

"Draco did," he replied sullenly.

"Yes, but Draco has his reasons, doesn't he?" she reminded him patiently.

"Has he?" Ron asked, looking at her as though she was slightly bonkers. "I mean... I know Ravenclaw beat them and everything, but that's a bit much, isn't it, saying that?" The look that passed between the other two stoked his interest and he demanded, "What? What do you know that you haven't told me?"

Harry sighed heavily and muttered, "He likes me."

"Well...?"

"No, Ron - he likes me."

"What? Malfoy? MALFOY -- likes you? Like- like... he likes you? Oh my fucking life! Now I've heard it all..." Ron said with a strange, vaguely disturbed laugh. "Draco Malfoy's got a crush on Harry Potter... it's so bloody mental it's not even funny!"

"Don't you dare start on him for it, Ron," Harry warned him, "he's trying really hard to be a good mate to me. Even though he's going half mental about it."

"What, is that the second half that's turning, then?"

"Malfoy isn't the problem, though, is he? It's you, Harry - and Gavin. What on Earth did Sirius and Remus say? Were they very angry?"

"No. Sirius and Remus were really good about it. They don't mind like some people do..."

"Harry, we're only worried that you'll get yourself in too deep to soon," Hermione explained, leaning over and taking his hand. "We're your friends and this is a very difficult time for you..."

"It would be a lot less difficult if my friends supported me!"

"Is that why the Slytherins beat up Cross? Because of you and him?" Ron said suddenly, "That Malfoy is such a jealous little bastard! I dunno how you can bear to spend all that time with him, Harry. I'd have punched his lights out by now."

"He's not," Harry replied, almost grinding his teeth, "He's really nice. He just does some very misguided things at times."

"Fucking hell, Harry! Listen to you! You're telling us one minute how great Gavin is and how much you like him and that shagging him would be the best idea in the world, and now you're going on about how wonderful Malfoy is! Anyone would think you've got a bloody crush on him, too!"

Harry stared at him. "I have not got a crush on Draco!"

"So why do you seem to think the sun shines out of his arse, then? Why so you need to spend so much bloody time with him, eh? 'Cause I know Dumbledore never said you had to live in each other's pockets!"

"Because he actually cares about me. He really loves me, Ron, but he sits and listens to me going on about Gavin when you two won't listen and he's more concerned with me, and me being happy than he is about my reputation! He's funny and he's intelligent and he doesn't treat me as though I'm a piece of thin glass that might break under the slightest bit of pressure!"

"Are you saying we don't?" Ron demanded, his ears turning pink.

"No, I'm not, I'm saying that I've got every reason to think the sun shines out of his arse! It is not because he is pretty and it is not because I have a crush on him!"

"Pretty? Oh yeah right - you really don't have a crush on him or anything, Harry. I can't believe you're even doing this! I mean, I can understand you doing the meetings thing, because that's for Dumbledore and the Order and that makes sense - but I can't understand why you would actually like him! He's been such a complete bastard the whole time we've known him and now you're acting like he's your best friend and not us and you're spending all your time with him or Gavin and we never get to see you any more!"

"Ron - you are my best friend, not Draco; it's you and Hermione... But Gavin is my boyfriend, now, and I like him a lot and I didn't just do things because I felt bad about being friends with Draco-"

"What?" Hermione asked quickly, pouncing on his words as though she had been laying in wait for them.

"'What' what?"

"You said that you didn't just do things with Gavin to make up for being friends with Draco! Oh Harry, you didn't let him do things because you felt guilty, did you?"

Harry gave a loud sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, "It wasn't like that..."

"So what was it like?" she pressed sternly.

"I did feel guilty. I felt really guilty because it was Draco who told the team to start on Gavin - but because he doesn't trust him. He thinks Gavin is only out for what he can get, and I know he's wrong, but he meant well and he got really upset and stuff... And then I messed everything up even more by saying that I was afraid next time he'd do something worse, like use Cruciatus on him and he got just so upset about it... So... so I hugged him and said I was sorry and things are okay again, but Gavin wasn't happy at all and-"

"Neither would I be if my boyfriend was off feeling up other people," Ron muttered. "Especially if it was Malfoy... Not that I'd have a boyfriend."

"I didn't 'feel him up', Ron - I comforted him! There are differences, you know."

"Yeah, whatever, Harry..."

"Ron, I can't believe you're being like this!"

"Well, I'd rather you were shagging Gavin like there was no tomorrow if it meant you weren't going to see as much of Malfoy!"

"Ron! Don't be so vulgar!" Hermione told him harshly.

"It's not vulgar - it's the truth!"

"Is your problem with me potentially having sex with other guys or potentially fancying Draco, Ron?" Harry asked, standing and leaning heavily on the table.

"I don't have a problem with you shagging guys... exactly... But I mean - it's Malfoy! How can you like Malfoy?"

"Oh forget it! I can't be bothered any more. When you've learned to distinguish between liking someone and fancying them maybe I'll try explaining then, but at the moment I'm getting very close to just twatting you one and I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Harry!" Hermione cried, hurrying to her feet and stopping him at the door, "Don't be silly - don't walk away now!"

"I think I've got to, really," Harry replied, breathing heavily.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Probably to see Draco." He added the last word purely to aggravate Ron.

"But stay here, Harry - we're your best friends, you said so!"

"Yes, Herm, you are, but at the moment I need to go and see Draco, is that alright?"

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO SEE HIM?" Ron exploded, standing up, his fists clenched at his sides, "HE'S NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND OR YOUR BEST FRIEND OR EVEN FAMILY! HE'S A BLOODY SPOILT LITTLE SHIT THAT ONLY CARES ABOUT HIMSELF!"

Harry stared at him for a moment before asking, "Really, Ron? So why so I find it easier to talk to him sometimes than I do to you?" He slammed the door shut behind him.

Hours later, Harry lay in his four-poster and listened to the sound of Ron moving around the dorm getting ready for bed. It was still early and they were the only two there; Seamus and Dean were still completing homework due imminently and Neville was down in the potting sheds helping Professor Sprout with some kind of nocturnal plant. He rolled over noisily, his blankets rustling. He'd spoken to Draco, briefly. Draco had told him he was an idiot and ordered him to go back and talk to his friends and not to bother him with his moping when the cause was self-inflicted. Harry had sloped back to the Tower sulking and had spoken to Hermione, but not Ron. Ron had been off somewhere with the twins, so Harry had opted to go to bed instead and feel sorry for himself.

"Harry?" Ron's voice said suddenly from being the curtains of his bed.

"Yes?"

"'Mione says you have something to talk to me about," he said, a touch stiffly.

"Er... I... um... do, yeah," Harry mumbled through the closed curtains, pulling himself into a sitting position. "Come in."

The curtain was yanked back and Ron stood before him in his pyjamas. "Well?"

"I wanted... um... to say I'm sorry. About yelling. I didn't mean to... I just hate hearing people talking about him like that." Ron did not respond, merely raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Ron - I know you can't stand him..." he trailed off into a strained sigh.

"He's horrible to us," Ron said flatly.

"No, he was horrible to us-"

"Same difference."

"But it's not, though!" Harry insisted, fisting his hands in his sheets. Ron grimaced and sat down heavily sideways on his mattress.

"Well it is to me, Harry," he told him grumpily. "And it is to Hermione."

"Hermione understands, I've already spoken to Hermione!"

"He's been plain bloody wicked to Hermione for years."

"I know," Harry admitted meekly, "but it was because he was jealous of you, Ron. You heard what I told you earlier - he's... well, he's in love with me, and-"

"So bloody fitting that that camp little prat should turn out queer," he muttered darkly.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry replied, frowning. He couldn't believe Ron had actually just said that.

"Oh! You know what I mean!" he snapped, his ears reddening from either annoyance or embarrassment.

"Hey, maybe you'd better get off my bed in case I come over all queer and try and jump you," Harry returned irritably.

"I didn't mean it like that..."

"Well if you took your foot out of your mouth every now and then you might get around to saying something you do mean!"

Ron scowled and picked at his jumper.

"Do you know what?" Harry began, "When I went to see Draco he had a go at me. He told me I shouldn't be down there moaning at him-" Ron looked up sharply, as if about to criticise Draco for not being there for Harry when he needed him, "-and said I was an idiot for arguing with you and to come back up and make up otherwise he'd be forced to charm the word 'Prat' into my forehead until I did."

Evidently, Ron didn't know what to say to that, because he worked his mouth soundlessly before muttering, finally, "You are a prat."

"There, you see? You can agree on some things," Harry grinned optimistically, hoping to encourage the other boy to grin back. Ron's face twitched as though he was fighting the urge, and instead deepened his scowl, adding a pout and thumping Harry lightly in the arm.

"You want to watch it, y'know," he warned, "I might do it instead, if you keep on like that."

Harry laughed at him; "Yeah, but knowing your handwriting it'd probably look more like 'Pert'."

"HA! At least mine doesn't look like I'm trained in fine art, high-calligraphy and bloody embroidery!"

"Oh God, I can assure you that there's no way Lucius Malfoy would allow a son of his to learn anything like that," Harry said with a laugh, shaking his head.

"My mum made us all learn to sew..." Ron admitted, shuddering, "but only because she'd have been swamped with repairs otherwise..."

They grinned at each other.

"Ron," Harry began again, "I know you think I'm mad for liking Draco and everything - and, I mean, I never expected I would - but if you just gave him a chance... just a chance to show you that he can at least be tolerable... Maybe you'd understand."

"I don't reckon I'll ever understand, Harry. I just can't bloody pretend he hasn't spent the whole time I've known him being horrible about my family and picking on you - and Hermione!"

"I know, Ron, and I'm not asking you to forget, but perhaps you can sort of... forgive him enough to get past all that and just try and tolerate him for my sake," Harry said pleadingly. "He's been a really good friend to me. He could have sat and tried to brainwash me into believing that you two were horrible and I didn't need you - and, I mean, it wouldn't have worked - but he didn't. He made me come and talk to you. I tried earlier but I could only find Herm... I'm sorry, I am, but until you've even tried to get to know him it's not fair to say he can't be alright when he wants to be, because he can. He really can."

"I don't know, Harry..." Ron said awkwardly. "That's asking a bloody lot, you know!"

"Ron, please try - just try and be civil to him and not criticise me for actually liking him. Please?"

"I'll try not to criticise you for liking him," Ron agreed with a huff. "Not out loud, anyway."

"Will you be civil to him?"

"When? It's not like we have to see each other outside class, is it?"

"No, I know, but... just... if you have to."

Ron seemed to struggle inwardly for a time, then finally mumbled, "I'll try if he does."

Harry positively glowed with relief, "Cool! He will. Thanks, Ron." He reached out and pulled the ginger boy into a playful hug and found himself wrestled with his arm twisted up his back, just enough so it would hurt if he moved.

"Gotcha!" Ron laughed, letting go when Harry cried, 'Ow! Gerroff' into his pillow, chuckling. "Charlie reckoned I never would get that one right."

The next time Harry saw Gavin it was on the way down to dinner on Monday evening. They bumped into each other in the corridor and Simon, Ron and Hermione tactfully dismissed themselves, heading off down the stairs toward the Great Hall.

"Hey," Gavin blushed, nodding for Harry to follow him behind a tapestry. Once concealed, at the bottom of a small and dingy staircase, the older boy leaned down to kiss him chastely on the cheek, and looked around as though expecting Sirius Black to pounce on him from the shadows.

Harry gave an awkward chuckle and reached for his hand. "Sirius is alright about it, you know - just put me through a really embarrassing talk, that's all. He even said he doesn't think you're leading me astray."

The older boy reddened and tucked his hair behind his ear. "It were jus' so embarrassin', though! I thought I were gonna die of embarrassment!" He seemed to give a little sigh and gave Harry a welcome hug, nuzzling into his hair. "Or maybe they were gonna stop me seein' you..."

Harry squeezed back tighter.

"I know we' not been together long an' everythin', but I really like you," the Ravenclaw went on, "an' I really didn' wan' t'get you in trouble... I were sorta worried tha' you wouldn' wan' t'see me after that."

"Gavin," Harry sighed, "don't be an idiot, I'm not that fickle."

"I am sure you are not, Mr Potter, however, you will soon be late for dinner." Both boys froze at the sound of McGonagall's heels clicking down the steps. "Come on, the both of you, I shall accompany you down, lest you should become further delayed en route."

The boys let go of each other, cringing and set off down the corridor, the Gryffindor head following at a respectable distance.

When they entered the Great Hall and Harry slipped into his seat opposite Ron the red-haired boy and the frizzy-haired girl beside him noted his flustered appearance and immediately hissed, "Harry? What's the matter?"

"McGonagall," he muttered, spooning potato chunks onto his plate and hiding his face from the teachers' table behind his out-stretched arm.

"What'd she do?" Ron demanded, staring in exactly that direction.

"Tell you later..."

Hermione suddenly gave a small gasp. She was looking over Harry's shoulder at the Ravenclaw table. "Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed quietly. "You weren't caught again!"

Harry turned even redder.

"Yeah," Ron tutted, looking at him and shaking his head, "they were caught."

"Goodness, Harry!" Hermione scolded, inadvertently attracting George and Seamus' attention. "You would have though the first time would have been warning enough!"

"The first time at what?" Seamus asked, looking at the three of them suspiciously.

"May I have your attention?" McGonagall was standing up at the teachers' table and for a horrible, terrifying moment Harry, and judging by the look on his face, Gavin, thought she was about to announce her little discovery to the school. However, she continued, "The Headmaster would like to make an announcement."

Dumbledore stood and gave her a smile. "Good evening, students. I won't keep you all for long, but I have some news which I think you will all be most delighted to hear. At the end of this month is Halloween, as you are all undoubtedly aware. However, this year we have decided to cancel the feast and, upon Mr Black's suggestion, will instead be undertaking a practical lesson." The entire school stared at him in horror. "There is no need to look so worried," he smiled, eyes twinkling, "for I am sure the lesson will be immense fun for all of us, as well as an experience we shall not forget for a very long time.

"We will spend the evening in the school grounds, re-enacting the Samhain rites our ancestors would have performed annually to bid farewell to the dying year and welcome in the new. In addition to this, there will be a party, of sorts, and great merriment to be had. Dress robes will not be worn as it would be rather impractical, but you may spend much of the night socialising as a school.

"In the meantime," he smiled, "you may continue with your meals."

Everyone seemed to hesitate, processing this new information, before breaking into discussion. Lavender and Parvati complained that it would be cold and horrible and they'd rather have a Halloween ball where they could dress up and take proper dates. The boys rolled their eyes at them and said that it'd be pretty cool. The twins tried to tell Lavender and Parvati that the rites had to be done naked, which was why the dress robes would be impractical, and they squealed with indignation until Hermione told them it was highly unlikely that nudity would be necessary.

"I think it's cool," Ron declared, grinning. "Sirius is wicked in class, so this should be bloody fantastic! I've never done a big ritual like that before."

"Me either," Harry agreed, "and at least we aren't expected to get up and dance!"

Hermione was delving around in her bag pocket and something fell out onto the floor. Colin picked it up and handed it to her. "You dropped your letter, Hermione," he said with a small giggle. "Who's it from? Any one exciting?"

"Er - not really," she said quickly, snatching it back and stuffing it in her pocket again.

"Is that the one you got this morning?" Ron asked curiously. "Who's it from, then?"

"Oh, no one..." she said dismissively.

"Don't be stupid, it's got to be from someone!"

"Alright, it's from Viktor," she admitted irritably.

"Krum?"

"Yes, Krum - who else?"

Ron stabbed his fork into his pork chop, scowling. "You're still writing to him, then?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

Ron didn't answer. For a moment he said nothing and then he suddenly turned to her, still wielding the chunk of meat on the end of his fork, and said "Hermione, will you come to the Halloween thing with me?"

Hermione accepted, which was quite the talk of the Tower for a few days, but it seemed that everyone had really rather been expecting it. For the next couple of weeks both Ron and Hermione were a little nervy in each other's company, which Harry found endearingly amusing. They had been friends for years and as comfortable together as a pair of old slippers, but suddenly, now that things were a little more romantically inclined, they were both walking on eggshells.

A week before Halloween each year was taken into the Great Hall one by one to receive a talk from Sirius about the events that would be taking place on the night. He told them, in some detail, that they would be taking a Dumb Supper, a silent meal in which their relatives, and perhaps friends, who had passed away would return, briefly, to see them. They would 'share' their food with the spirits, although they would not take it physically, and the spirits would not be able to speak to them; nor would they be able to speak to their dead. This was why, he explained, it was a 'Dumb Supper'. He warned that it would be a fairly emotional experience for most of them, and that if they wanted to sit out of the Supper they could do so, and take part only in the remaining rituals and games. He told them to think hard about whether they thought they could cope with such an experience and assured them that no one who opted out would frowned upon. The mood for much of the remaining week was slightly sombre.

As evening drew near, there was a distinct crackling of excitement in the air. Harry had never felt anything like it. All day he had been able to feel that it was Halloween. Even in the school, where students strolled down the corridors discussing homework with the ghosts, there was a sensation of the Other World being closer, almost as though you could reach out an touch it, a taut curtain between the folds of which the past was about to step. He was nervous. He would be seeing his parents. He wanted to show them that he was growing up alright. He wanted to tell them that he was a prefect and that he was captain of the Quidditch team, just like his dad had been. But he wasn't supposed to speak to them and he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to keep his mouth shut.

Every time he had spoken about it to Gavin the older boy had changed the subject. Harry decided that he must be feeling as nervous as he was about his parents coming. Draco, too, had been extremely reluctant to talk about it. Eventually he had uncomfortably admitted that when his father killed Lilith he hadn't used Avada Kedavra, as Harry had assumed, but had smashed her tiny body against the wall. The blood was still there, if you looked behind the right picture, and while he didn't want to opt out because he was desperate to see his grandmother, he was also very familiar with the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick; the last thing he wanted to see was his baby sister as a pulverised mess.

Hermione seemed excited. It was a new experience for her, and she'd only lost a great-grandparent in her life time. She was hoping that some of her ancestors would return to visit her, to see if she could establish who, in her ancient family tree, she received her gift from.

Ron, on the other hand, seemed very quiet for days beforehand. The twins were also strangely subdued and Ginny barely said a peep. Harry didn't understand why. They had both their parents and three of their grandparents, still. Mr Weasley's father had died in the Second Muggle War, when he himself was a boy, so they had never met him. Harry didn't ask, afraid of upsetting them or seeming insensitive. He decided he'd probably find out on the night.

At half past seven, when the sun was completely gone, the school assembled in the grounds. Twelve huge bonfires had been placed in a large circle around the lawns, stretching from the edge of the forest to the lake and the castle walls. Four smaller ones blazed in the centre, surrounding an altar. The students were roughly ordered so that they were sitting on rugs, each House making up a quarter of the circle; siblings brought to sit together where their Houses were different.

Harry looked across at Gavin, sitting with his friends on the Ravenclaw side. He didn't seem very nervous, now. He was laughing with the red-haired girl from the Quidditch team. The Weasleys were huddled together, Ginny crammed in between Ron and Fred for support. She'd admitted to being a bit scared earlier, and Hermione had countered that it would be exciting, not scary. Hermione herself was now bouncing to his left, sitting next to Ron, obviously a small, partially unstable ball of nervous energy.

Draco sat nearly on the opposite side of the circle, the teachers obviously having decided to use the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as makeshift buffers between the other two houses. He had his hands clasped in his lap and was staring at the grass before him fixedly. Harry hoped he was going to be alright.

The first part of the ritual involved the opening of the Gate. In the midst of the inner circle, before the altar, Dumbledore stood, in his hands a large ball of dark, almost-black fire; around him Sirius, Professor Vector, Snape and McGonagall stood outside the four small bonfires, each holding a ball of coloured flame themselves. Sirius's glowed blood red, Vector's dark blue, Snape's green and McGonagall's white. Dumbledore spoke. His voice was loud and commanding, and the words, whatever they were, were not in English. Around him, the four other teachers echoed his words, each then adding a different phrase which caused the flames they held to burn brighter and bigger.

Harry watched, transfixed as they worked, their voices sounding powerful and commanding, so very different from the tones they used in normal speech. Suddenly, in the West, there was a loud ripping sound. Everyone turned and stared. A dim blue haze seemed to hover above them. Harry had expected to see a gaping hole in the atmosphere, pouring forth spirits of all descriptions. All there was appeared to be a thin, bluish cloud drifting low over them. His eyes snapped back to the ground as Dumbledore spoke.

"In a few moments your plates will be filled with seasonal food stuffs. You will divide a small portion onto the spare plates in front of you and from that point on, no one shall speak a word. Not one. This is incredibly important.

"When you have finished your meals you may give thanks to your ancestors and loved ones for taking the time to visit and bid them good wishes for their journey back. This will also be done in silence. They will understand everything you say without the need for you speak it.

"As your neighbours also finish you will take their hands and wait for the circle to be complete. Upon the closing of the Gate you may speak."

Harry looked down, he hadn't noticed any plates at all and was about to panic - what if he needed to eat or his parents wouldn't come to him? But to his surprise the plates were now there, laid out for himself and a guest, complete with cutlery. Moments later the plates blossomed with pulped vegetables, potatoes and some meat, which appeared to be both beef and pork. Unlike the Yule Ball, when everyone had chosen their own meals, all the students and the teachers who were mingled amongst them appeared to have the same meal served to them. The food was appearing on the plates one at a time, apparently descending from seventh to first year, and, seeing that some of the older students were already carefully passing some of their own onto the empty plates of their guests, he copied. A second later the first whisperings of spirits gliding past sent shivers down his spine.

Looking around he saw hundreds of people, their colours washed out and their bodies partially transparent, drifting around, searching for their loved ones. Across the field Harry saw Gavin being approached by a tall, upright spectre and a woman in a dark shawl. He wondered if they were his parents, even though the woman appeared to be too old. Perhaps they were his grandparents.

Beside him, Hermione was clutching her cutlery uncomfortably tightly, staring into the circle as though trying to guess who would come to her. On her other side, Harry suddenly realised, the four youngest Weasleys already had visitors. Before them stood two men, both with vivid red hair, even though the rest of them seemed faint and only partially real. The taller of the two men also seemed much older. He was smiling down at them from where he stood in a World War II army uniform, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The other man seemed very young. In fact, he was little older than Ron - he was even wearing Hogwarts uniform. He crouched and smoothed Ginny's hair, smiling a little. He was slim and fairly tall, with thin hands and long fingers. Harry was so busy wondering who he was that he jumped when a coldness touched his arm.

He whirled around and, to his shock, found he was staring into the face of Cedric Diggory. The boy was grinning and stood up, stepping between him and Remus to stand in the circle. With him came two more people; Harry's parents. For a moment he stared at them all, not sure what he was supposed to do. Then Diggory crouched before him and reached for his hand. It was like plunging his limbs into icy water. He felt cold all over and gazed at the dead boy before him, finding that he was positively beaming. Harry was confused when Cedric stood back up and looked to Harry's parents. They smiled at him, and he gave Harry a small wave before running, a few inches above the grass, to where his former Housemates sat.

Opposite, Draco swallowed with difficulty. Nothing had even touched his lips, yet and he could see her. She was standing twenty feet away, smiling, a bundle of swaddling cloth in her arms. He was afraid to eat, knowing that if he did, she would approach and if she approached she may be holding a bundle of bloody infant. Do it, you idiot. Just do it. Carefully, he closed his teeth around the small piece of potato and began to chew. In the same instant she moved. But before she could even reach him a small, charcoal blur buzzed past. Draco stared around, wondering what it was, until the blur returned and began to sniff at his plate. Cerberus! He gave a soundless gasp of joy and reached out to the hare-brained puppy. The dog proceeded to thoroughly lick Draco's fingers, but it wasn't like he remembered it; the puppy's tongue felt like he was being pelted with snowballs.

Looking up, he saw his grandmother looking down at him tenderly. She smiled and began to lower herself to the floor. Draco recoiled slightly, still terrified of what she may be carrying, but her gentle look of admonishment prevented him from scrambling away from the circle altogether. Carefully, she peeled back the cloth and showed him a new-born child, completely free of gore or injury. She was terribly small and had just the wispiest strands of white-blonde hair protruding from beneath the blankets. She stared up at him with wide eyes and wriggled slightly. She was perfect.

Sirius walked slowly towards Harry and Remus. His role was over for the time being, he would return to take up the position when the Gate needed closing for the year. He had planned this because he knew they would come. After speaking to Harry about the way his parents would react, he had asked Dumbledore if they could recreate the ritual. The Headmaster had thought it a fantastic idea, and now here he was. And here they were. James and Lily sat on the ground in front of their son, Lily leaning on James the way she always used to when they were alive.

Remus looked up as he approached. Harry was apparently trying to show them his prefect badge. James turned, slowly, looking up to where Sirius stood. Suddenly, he was on his feet, looking from Harry to Sirius with such pride shining in his eyes that Sirius had to swallow several times to stop himself breaking down. He looked the same as the last time he had seen him alive; the time when they last checked the secret was safe with Peter. I'm sorry, Sirius mouthed silently. James gave him his best prefect scowl and shook his head. He looked for a long time at Harry, then at Remus, whose own parents were sitting with him but apparently taking more interest in the exchange occurring between Harry and Lily. She was carefully giving him a once-over, and Harry was smiling as if they were playing a game.

James looked back to Sirius and then cast a very meaningful glance at Remus. Sirius shook his head, abashed. James pushed his glasses up his nose, gave him another scowl and the same impatient look he used to give to third years whose excuses he didn't believe one bit. It made him smile. That was the old James, alright. And James thought he was a prat. That said, you always thought I was a prat... James nodded, grinning. If he had been alive, Sirius would have clouted him.

Lily stroked her son's hair once and smiled at Remus. Even without saying a word he knew what she meant. She had been a sister to him during their last years at school - and long afterward - and they could read each other like large-print books. She liked the way her son was turning out. She glanced over her shoulder and back at him, nodding, slowly. She understood about Cross.

A moment later Cedric Diggory bounded back over to them. He was still grinning, but tugged at James' sleeve and looked toward the centre, where many of the spirits now seemed to be heading. James nodded and touched Lily to tell her it was time to go. She looked at him, then at Harry and Remus and gave a broad smile. Leaning forward, she brushed freezing lips across each of their cheeks, leaving icy breezes in her wake. She stood up and pointed at Harry, as if to say, Now make sure you behave, Harry Potter! Harry nodded, grinning back at her. She moved over to James and gently brushed Sirius' arm as they began to move toward the altar.

Harry watched for a moment, then took the hand Remus offered him, reached for Hermione's on the other side. It's weird, he thought, I expected to be so sad when they left... He wasn't, though. He felt oddly like he'd see them again. After all, he'd done so in both the Mirror of Erised and the graveyard since they'd died... The chances of his meeting them again seemed bizarrely in his favour.

When the ritual had been finished, the Gate closed, the rituals wrapped up and plates removed, it was announced that the merry-making should begin. Enchanted instruments began to pipe lively traditional music and the pupils grouped off and tentatively began to discuss what had happened. Around the largest bonfires teachers now appeared to be supervising old-fashioned games. Apples floated in mid air as Professor Flitwick assisted two second years with a game of Apple Snapping. Professor Vector was now standing by a huge half-barrel filled with water as some other students attempted to catch apples which floated on the top, using only their mouths; Apple Bobbing. Across the field, wreathed in a luminous fog, Professor Trelawney appeared to be supervising various forms of divination, her beads and bangles glittering in the firelight.

Towards the end of the field, Seamus and some of the others were carefully modifying some mulled wine, which McGonagall was carefully ladling into chalices where the altar had been. It was now covered in various Halloween snacks, from pumpkin snaps to sugared mice. Harry looked around him. The four Weasleys were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Hermione. Harry shrugged to himself and decided to go and find Gavin.

Remus sat by the fire nearest the cottage. He cupped a chalice of mulled wine in his hands. It had been quite an experience, seeing Lily and James with Harry again. He was deeply relieved that Harry had taken it so well. He had been afraid that seeing them would have been too much for him, that he would have been upset and wanted to go back to the castle. Instead, Harry was standing over with the Ravenclaws, talking.

He gazed into the flames; fire had always seemed so alive to him. He'd thought it was a monster when his father had first allowed him into the garden while he had a bonfire. He had only been three. The way it roared and crackled fascinated him, and he wanted to touch it, but his mother had held him back despite his infantile protests. She had a baby on her hip, and clutched firmly at Remus's hand to stop him toddling nearer. That was with his first family, before he was bitten. Afterward, his parents couldn't manage and he was taken to a new mummy and daddy - the parents who had visited tonight - and brought up deep in the Scottish Highlands, seven miles from the nearest remote village. Their house had been a small and made of stone and slate, perched on the side of a hill. It had been a very solitary childhood.

Remus had been very close to his mother. He never considered that she was anything other than his 'real' mum because he could barely remember his birth mother anyway. He had spent all his time with her, reading and learning from books and the world around them. He knew the hills where he grew up like the back of his hand. They owned a lot of land, back then, but he rarely saw any other children and was desperately shy. When he had had to come to Hogwarts, when he had received his letter, he had cried for hours. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with his mother and father. Of course, there had also been the complications that surrounded his condition, and he was afraid that the other children wouldn't like him. But they had; the students in his own House had been wonderful. For the first time in his life, he'd had friends.

"You know what? This reminds me of that summer, back at home, when you spent all the night on the beach, gazing into space."

Remus jumped as Sirius's voice whispered in his ear. He turned to glance at him. The other man was leaning on his shoulder, now, staring at him with intense blue eyes. "I was thinking," he murmured in response, turning back to look at the flames and sipping his mulled wine.

"You're always thinking."

"Is that a problem for you?" He didn't even bother looking at him that time.

"Sometimes."

Remus cast him a half-glance, then shook his head slightly.

"When I want your attention, it is."

"You've got my attention," he sighed, allowing him a small smile. "What's the matter?"

"I was wondering when we're going to stop pretending," Sirius said softly.

Remus felt himself shiver, even though he was standing mere feet form the bonfire and was wrapped up in heavy robes. He didn't know how to answer, didn't think he could. His mouth was dry and he felt he might choke if he attempted to say anything.

"I remember. I remembered weeks ago and I was wondering how come you didn't bother reminding me, Moony. And if there was anything else you didn't think I should know."

"It wasn't like that!" he said urgently, turning to him sharply and dropping his chalice. "I couldn't tell you, Padfoot! What if you still didn't remember? Even thought I was making it up? It didn't even think you were ready to know that!"

Sirius stared at him as if trying to see if he was telling truth. "Were you glad I didn't remember?"

"No! No, it hurt." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "Sirius, now is not the time, nor the place for this conversation. Your students are everywhere and the last thing either you or I need is for them to grasp hold of this."

"I don't fucking care what the kids think!" Sirius replied, frowning. "Remus, if the problem is that you want to pretend it never happened, just tell me. Now."

"Don't be an idiot, Sirius, of course I don't!"

"Then what is your problem?" the other man demanded. "What gave you the right to decide which of my memories I should and shouldn't have access to?"

"They were my memories, too."

"Yeah, they were, and for some reason you didn't think I was good enough to share them - which, if I remember rightly, is very different to how you felt then."

"That was fourteen years ago."

"So you're saying that you don't care any more?" Sirius asked, suddenly strangely quiet.

Remus sighed, "Of course I care, you dolt."

"Then how could you not tell me?"

"Because I didn't think you'd want to know, Sirius! For God's sake, look at me! I'm not a twenty-one year old, anymore. I'm... different. Too different," he finished softly.

"I see."

They stood in silence, each now gazing into the flames.

"So basically," Sirius said slowly, "you didn't tell me because you thought that because you've got older I wouldn't be interested anymore?"

"Sirius..."

"And you called me a dolt!"

"It is not just about that-"

"Twenty-fucking-one..." Sirius muttered to himself, as if it were the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"SIRIUS!" Remus snapped suddenly, "Don't you dare think you know everything about me!"

The dark-haired man stepped back in alarm.

"Yes, I was twenty-one - I was twenty-one and as far as I knew the person I loved had ruined my life! Destroyed everything that meant anything to me! I never believed it, never honestly thought you were capable of that, but there were certain things, certain measures I had to take just to carry on existing."

Realisation dawned on Sirius's face. "There's someone else..."

"No."

"But - but there was... afterward?"

"No."

"I don't understand, Moony," Sirius huffed frustratedly, "I don't see what you mean if there wasn't-"

"There was never anyone else!"

"Never?"

"No, never," Remus told him insistently, refusing to look at him.

Sirius's stance suddenly changed, "You've been completely alone... all those years?"

Remus gave a short nod and tucked his arms tightly around himself.

"Why?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

Remus gave a tiny sardonic laugh, "I didn't want anyone else."

"Oh Moony..." Sirius murmured, stepping nearer and reaching out to embrace him. Remus side-stepped in the other direction.

"Kids, Sirius."

"Forget the kids! I don't give a fuck what they think!"

"What about what I think?" Remus asked, finally fixing him with a defensive stare.

"What?"

"Sirius, I have spent fourteen years attempting to convince myself I was better off without you. Then, I spent the last few months convincing myself that I could go back to being the way we were while we were here. Back to being just friends and nothing more. I cannot just over look that. I can't pretend the past fifteen years never happened!"

There was silence once more. Then Sirius tentatively asked, "Will you try?"

Harry wandered away from the Ravenclaws. Gavin wasn't with them, they had no idea where he was and exchanged awkward looks when Harry asked them. He hoped the other boy was alright. The spirits who had come to him seemed imposing and if they were Harry's ancestors he would probably have been a little afraid of them.

Harry strolled absently across the field. The smell of the autumnal air and the warmth of the fires, with their flickering glow and rasping crackle made it all seem somewhat mystical, which he supposed it was, but it all added to the feeling that this was an echo of something so ancient that he could almost feel the roots of time stretching back into history.

"Harry! Hey, Harry, c'm'over here!"

Harry whirled around to see where Seamus was calling him from, the boy's voice distinctive enough that he knew immediately who it was.

"Hey..."

"Harry, here, have some of this!" Seamus grinned, shoving a cup into his hands and winking conspiratorially.

"Er... I was looking for someone, actually..."

"Ah, that can wait," Seamus grinned, "Can't it, Dean?"

"Yeah... heh... heh heh..." Dean grinned back, looking slightly unfocused.

"What is it?" Harry asked, tilting the vessel to look at its contents.

"Juuuuust some mulled wine, Harry - have a sip, go on."

"Er, no. Thanks."

"Go ooooon!"

"Really, I'm fine - I have to-"

"Go on, Harry!"

"I um..." The look on Seamus' face suggested that he wasn't going anywhere until he'd accepted some of the drink. He hoped they hadn't been taking lessons from the twins and gulped it down. "There, thank you. Now I've got to go and find Ga... someone. See you later."

"Bye Harry!" Seamus and Dean cooed sweetly and promptly fell about laughing.

Draco picked his way through the crowds, hoping to catch Harry and somehow separate him from the rest of the students so that they could talk. He wanted to tell him about Lilith, tell him that she had been perfect and pretty and that she had their mother's eyes. Suddenly, close to the edge of the forest he caught sight of a very familiar silhouette. He began to hurry towards him, glad that he was on the periphery of the celebrations and potentially easier to communicate with discreetly. As he approached he realised that Harry wasn't moving. He stood as if frozen, staring into the forest. Draco followed his gaze, wondering if the other boy had caught sight of some dangerous beast lurking in the shadows. What he saw actually made his heart skip a beat and he looked back to see Harry turn and walk away, loping along as if wanting to run, heading towards the wobbling shapes of his housemates.

There had been a lengthy silence between Sirius and Remus, after they settled near the fire. Sirius had learned many years before that if Remus was quiet it was best to hold out for as long as possible before saying anything. Which, in Sirius' case was rarely more than ten minutes.

"This reminds me of the first time we kissed," he said eventually, tugging at a tuft of grass beside him.

Remus took a long breath and replied, "No... no no no. Don't even think about it, Padfoot."

"Too late. Already thinking about it."

"Then you'll be disappointed," Remus told him firmly.

"Oh Moo! Don't be such a bloody cold fish!"

"I reserve the right to be as cold and fishy as I wish, thank you."

The pair were sitting close to the fire; Remus had drawn his knees up before him and was hugging them tightly while Sirius sprawled long, leathered legs in front of him.

The dark-haired man gave a loud huff and stared at the side of his companion's face. "You won't even talk about it," he complained.

"Not while we are surrounded by several hundred nosy teenagers, I won't, no."

"So you will when we're on our own?"

The shorter man left a long pause before sighing, "Possibly. And that's an 'I may possibly speak about that incident at some point in the future', Sirius, not a 'there is every possibility that you will get lucky'."

"Tut. I know that."

"It won't prevent you from attempting to alter the fact. I know you. I am also fully wise to your methods and will not be drinking anything in your presence for the foreseeable future."

"For fuck's sake, Moony! I'm not a bloody kid anymore, I'm not interested in getting in your robes this time! Well... not just interested in that."

"Keep going, Padfoot, say it a little louder. I think there is a deaf Inuit somewhere in Alaska who didn't quite catch that statement."

"Smart arse."

"When you start to act like an adult again, a skill you've apparently lost your knack at in the past quarter of an hour, I will be more prepared to talk to you, Sirius."

"Oh don't be so bloody anal!"

Remus cast him an unamused look.

"No pun intended..."

"I'll bet there wasn't," Remus muttered, shaking his head wearily.

"Remy-"

"Don't call me that."

"Remy, just talk about it. Please? Just about us... about what we were... if we can ever be like that again..."

Remus closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his knees for a moment. "I don't know, Siri. If I knew I'd have told you straight out, you know that."

"You knew you loved me for years and you never told me," Sirius reminded him sulkily.

"You never told me either."

"I never loved you for as long!" He paused, then corrected, "Alright - I never admitted it to myself as early as you did."

"Padfoot, the fact of the matter is that I just don't know. I wasn't expecting to have to face this so soon. I've been working on ways to keep you from the subject, not trying to decide whether I want things back to the way they were. They were never perfect, were they?"

"No, but if they'd been perfect they'd have been boring."

"I'd be waiting for history to repeat itself..."

"It's not going to, Moony, we won't let it!"

"We couldn't stop it the last time..."

"This is different, though! Come on, Remy, please. Think of all the fun we used to have!"

"'All the fun we used to have' is neither something I wish to consider nor discuss just here, thank you."

"Then lets go inside. No one can hear us there."

"You're on duty."

"Stuff being on duty! Half of the little sods are probably going for a grope behind trees, they don't need my assistance for that," Sirius replied, standing up and holding out a hand for Remus to take. "Come on. Come home."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Remus clambered to his feet of his own accord, completely ignoring the hand extended to him. "Fine. We'll go home."

"Good."

"To talk."

"Yes."

"Not do."

"Well..."

"Not do."

"Alright, alright, not 'do'."

"Good."

Together, the two men set off towards the house they shared, complete oblivious to what was happening a few yards away.

Harry reached Seamus and Dean and immediately prised the Irish boy's drink from his fingers and downed it. Seamus stared at him with reproach.

"Harry Potter! Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to snatch someone else's drink and not say cheers?"

"Sorry," Harry said, miserably.

"Here, you look like you need another," Dean said, squinting at him and trying three times to press a full chalice into his hands. "Wassa matter?"

Harry took a rasping breath. "Nothing," he said, taking a large gulp of the modified mulled wine.

"You sure, Harry? You look like you've had your heart broken or somet'ing..."

Harry gave a splutter and handed the chalice back to Dean, mumbling "'Scuse me... I have to go..."

They watched as he ran off into the darkness. "Ah, I t'ink our Harry's in love y'know..."

"Really," Dean asked through a belch. "With a bloke?"

"No, wit' the Faery Queen herself!"

Dean gave a drunken snort and slurred, "What... heh... hehehe... you mean Malfoy?"

Harry ran off into the relative safety of the edge of the forest. He had a sickly feeling that he was going to start sobbing any time soon and he really wished he knew where Ron and Hermione were so he could tell them. No, forget Ron and Hermione, he wanted to speak to Draco. As if responding to that very thought Harry started as a hand grasped his arm. His yell was stifled by a pale hand and he could make out a pair of metallic eyes shining like a cat's in the darkness.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry's lip quivered for a moment after the pale palm was lifted away, and he eventually shook his head and stared at the place where the floor would have been if he could have seen it. "No..." he whimpered, barely audibly.

"I saw what happened before. The smarmy little prat..." Draco said quietly, neatly controlled anger in his voice.

"They - they were kissing, Draco..." Harry whispered mournfully, sounding as though the world was about to end.

"I know. The bloody moron has no idea what he's doing. I should go and hex the little pillock into teeny tiny fragments..."

"No! No, you mustn't!"

Draco gave a tut and began to mutter that he would do no such thing, even though he'd like to, but stopped short and said instead, "What in the name of Agrippa have you been drinking? Your breath could strip paint!"

"Seamus... Seamus gave me some mulled wine..."

"Mulled wine? That's more than flaming mulled wine, you idiot!"

"I know... that's why I had some more when I saw... when I saw..." Harry's voice shook and he was slurring slightly as the alcohol began to seep into his blood stream.

Draco drew an exasperated breath and conceded, "Well, I suppose we all do imbecilic things from time to time. I knew that prat was no good for you. The stupid little Neanderthal has absolutely no right to - to toy with you like that!"

"He's not a Neanderthal..." Harry complained, giving a small stagger. Whatever Finnegan had put in that mulled wine was obviously intensely potent.

"Well if he's not a semi-human, part-ape, excessively follicled barbarian - which I personally think is a perfect description, actually - he has even less excuse for his behaviour. No decent person tries to deflower you one week and proceeds to engage in oral acrobatics with someone else behind your back!"

"He didn't try to d...d-de...de-fluv... do anything before, it was me!" Harry protested.

"You're always bloody defending him, aren't you? Even when he doesn't deserve it."

"No... and - and... he doesn't deserve it... not anymore... he's a prat..."

"Among other more accurate expletives which I will not use in public, yes."

"And you were right, weren't you, Draco?" Harry said, giving another stagger so Draco had to grab him to stop the drunken idiot from falling over. He wasn't sure what Finnegan had done to that wine but it seemed to have the approximate potency of a gallon of wormwood Absinthe.

"Yes, of course I was right. I'm right about everything," he agreed, struggling to keep the Gryffindor on his feet.

"I thought he was upset because of his mum and dad..."

"His what?"

"His mum and dad are dead... he was adopted... I thought they would come to see him tonight... but there was just two ooooold ghosts..."

"Well, perhaps his parents didn't like him any more than I do. Maybe they killed themselves when they realised they had spawned a demon."

"Draco!"

"Oh... alright, I'm sorry... But not very sorry. Just slightly sorry."

Harry's head flopped onto his shoulder.

"You'd better not dribble nor vomit on me, Potter, or it will be the last thing you ever do," Draco warned, holding the increasingly inebriated teen against him to prevent him from ending face up in the mud.

"He doesn't like me much, does he?" Harry sighed, allowing his weight to slump completely onto the smaller boy.

"Then he's an idiot."

"Do you like me, Draco?"

"Yes, Harry, I like you," he confirmed, attempting to straighten the other boy up. Even when you're a drunken idiot.

"I like you, too..." Harry grinned against his shoulder.

For the merest moment Draco felt his heart skip. "Yes, I'm sure you do. Now, try and stand up for yourself."

"Can't."

"You can."

"Can't," Harry argued, beginning to sound like a very obstinate child.

"Well, the thing is, either you stand up or I drop you. It's entirely your decision."

"You won't... you're nice."

"I might be nice, but unfortunately I'm not terribly strong, so it's not a case of whether I want to drop you or not, but it's becoming increasingly pressing."

He gave Harry a small shove and tried to balance him on his own feet. It just about worked. Nonetheless, he held out his hands in readiness for what appeared to be an imminent fall.

"Drac..." Harry said slowly, frowning.

"Hm?"

"Do you love me?"

Draco hesitated for a moment; "Yes, I do. You know that..."

"Gavin doesn't love me..."

"Well, I thought we'd established that Cross is a stupid, hairy moron?"

"I want him to love me," Harry told him indignantly.

"Yes, well, trust me when I say we can't always have what we want."

Harry suddenly stopped and looked at him as if almost sober for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said, his bottom lip fully quivering all of a sudden.

"What for?"

"I'm horrible to you..." Suddenly he gave a small hic and began to sob.

"Oh no. Harry, don't start crying - really, don't. I'm not very good with crying, please don't cry!"

"You l-love me and I'm horrible to you and I t-tell you about how much I like Gavin and h-hes h-h-horrible to me..."

"Potter, stop. Now."

"I'm r-really s-s-sorry." Draco suddenly found himself with arms full of Gryffindor again. Great. Just my poxy luck. The first time he embraces me it's because he's drunk and woebegone because the imbecile I warned him about is off chasing skirts. Where the hell is the heart-felt declaration of undying love? he demanded of whomever may be picking up on his thoughts at that moment, Where is it?

At that precise moment he felt an unfamiliar sensation that he quickly identified as lips. On his neck.

"You r-really like me and I want to feel like that too... about you."

"Harry..." he began warningly. I take it back! I take it back - you were right. Now is not the time for that...

The sensation continued.

"Harry, I am not going to let you do this."

"If I told you I loved you would kiss me?"

"Harry, you're only saying this because you're completely drunk on whatever that stupid Irish prat gave you."

"Would you?"

"Don't do this to me, Harry. Don't."

"I love you."

"That is it!" Harry met the floor very suddenly. "I am not going to let you do this to me! I know you're drunk, I know you've just seen the Missing Link with someone else, but that does not give you divine right abuse me!"

"Draco..." Harry whimpered forlornly.

"Just sober up, you pillock. And then find someone else to whine at because I am not about to stand around and allow you to pillage my feelings like that! You can't make yourself feel something! I don't want it if you have to force yourself to try and feel it Harry! I won't let you make a mockery of the way I-REALLY-FEEL!" he finished the sentence yelling, wanting to give the Gryffindor a good kick. He took a deep breath. Tantrums were so very ungainly, even when justified. "I refuse to deal with you when you're drunk," he said as steadily as he could. "When you're sober and can fully appreciate what you're saying you may talk to me. Until that point leave me alone."

Harry watched as the shimmer of silver disappeared through the trees. Suddenly, he felt considerably more sober. He sat where he had landed, completely stunned. Oh God...Oh God, Harry you idiot! You stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!

"Draco?" he called tentatively, a lump building in his throat. As he realised that there was to be no response, Harry gave a pitiful gurgle and burst into tears.

Sirius watched Remus as he moved around the kitchen making tea. Tea solved everything, of course - it didn't matter whether you were Wizard, Muggle, Werewolf or Hag, provided you were British, tea solved everything. Going to need an industrial-sized cauldron full at this rate...

"So, what have you done all alone for the past fourteen years, Moony?" he asked, trying to keep things light because he had a feeling they would darken later.

"Lots of things..."

"Well... what sorts of lots of things?"

"I read," he shrugged. "And we've been thorough this before."

"For fourteen years?" Sirius asked, ignoring his other comment entirely.

Remus gave a dark snort of laughter, "When I could focus."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"If it meant nothing you wouldn't have said it, Moo. That's not that way you are."

"Sirius," Remus began, clearly holding his voice as steady as possible, "it was nearly fourteen years of misery. The first part, in particular, was very difficult. If I say something was nothing it means I am not ready to talk about it. It's nothing personal, it was just a very upsetting time, alright?"

"Yeah - yeah of course it is, Re..." Sirius squeezed his shoulder supportively, only to have the other man carefully duck out from his grasp and take both mugs into the living room. Remus seemed to hesitate, deciding where to sit; the armchair or the sofa? He finally gave a sigh and sat on the sofa. Sirius promptly sat beside him, although not too close. Wouldn't want to frighten him away now, would I?

"So," Remus said quietly, "you wanted to talk..."

"Yes, I did. I do. I'd like to know where we stand. Both of us," Sirius told him earnestly.

Remus said nothing.

"Moony?"

"Siri..." he paused to rub his brow, "I can't go back to how things were. Not immediately."

"But you'd like to? Eventually?"

The fair-haired man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I thought I did. When I first heard you were coming here I just thought how wonderful it would be to have you back here with me. There has been such a lot of time wasted, Siri...I knew then that it would be hard work, but I wasn't expecting you to have completely forgotten about us... about me..."

"I didn't forget about you, Re! Those creatures took your memories in there - I didn't forget them, I pushed them down. I hid them! I didn't forget because I didn't care-"

"No, I know, that's not what I meant, Sirius. I know you didn't do it on purpose. But can you imagine, that fourteen years after you last had a chance to be with the person you have been in love with for twenty whole years and more, that you sit with them, expecting to have this very conversation, and realising that they do not realise there is any relationship to talk about? Realising that they now think of you the same way they thought of you when you were a clumsy thirteen year old? I couldn't tell you, it would have been too much to take after all the work you'd done for Dumbledore; all the effort you have put in to preventing history from repeating itself. You were in no fit state to be placed under even more emotional pressure and... I suppose I convinced myself that well that I eventually became afraid of you finding out. Perhaps I'd started to believe that if you found out you would go off on one and you would lose it altogether... and I was afraid of losing you again. It was so difficult the first time... even when I thought I should have been glad to be rid of you. I never quite managed it; never reached a point where I could even pretend I hated you. If you were to have escaped any time in the first ten years - and you really had been guilty - I would still have taken you back in an instant. And I hated myself for it."

Sirius gazed at the side of the other man's face. For once, possibly the first time since he learned to talk, Sirius Black did not know what to say. The main thing was that he had too many things he wanted to say, things that were too important and too complicated and which he knew would sound stupid as they fell from his mouth. "I'm sorry..." he managed, eventually, "I wish I could have remembered... I wish those fucking Dementors hadn't tried to steal them. Fuck. Fuck, I wish they'd let me at Wormtail. I'd fucking strangle him!"

"What would that have achieved?"

"It would have made me feel better."

"It would have taken you back to that prison, Sirius!"

Both men sat for a moment, not speaking. Finally, Sirius ventured, "I know this is a hard question, and I'm sorry, but I really fucking have to know or I'll go insane." He closed his eyes and clenched both fists on his knees, "I need to know - just a yes or a no - I need to know if you still love me."

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the stab of being asked a question that should never have needed to be answered. "Yes, I have loved you since the first time you ever kissed me," he admitted quietly, "and nothing is going to change that. Even fourteen years and some Dementors."

"Me either," Sirius said firmly, "even if I didn't fucking realise it." He reached out to push a lock of greying sandy hair from the other man's face as he stared into the bottom of his mug, "The Remus I knew wouldn't give up on something this easily, Moony... he would have fought for it in that frustratingly quiet but furiously determined way he used to have."

"The Moony you knew was destroyed the day I let a man that I knew, deep down, was innocent be taken to rot in Azkaban for killing the people he loved more that anyone."

"Don't be stupid, you'll always be my Moony! I mean, it's a wonder you're still here at all with no one to remind you to eat for twelve years..."

"I made myself survive," Remus murmured, "because I realised, one day, that I was the only one left to really carry on and that the Marauders were not supposed to end like that. The Marauders fought against anything that attempted to keep them down... So I carried on existing. I suppose I knew that it didn't end there, even if I wanted it to; there was more to come. Life hadn't finished with me quite yet..."

"I tried to think about you, at first. I tried to tell you I didn't kill them on purpose - that we had switched and it was Peter - but I suppose it only works over short distances..."

"You didn't kill them, Siri. I know that, James knows that, Lily knows that and Harry certainly knows that," Remus sighed tiredly, leaning back against the sofa and turning to look at the man beside him, his head at an awkward angle.

"I wish I found it that easy to believe," Sirius murmured, swallowing. He paused before whispering, "I miss them, Moony. I miss having someone to talk to about you, someone to smack me around the head and call me a toss-pot then tell me to 'buck my stupid bloody ideas up'. I miss having someone to tell when you've done something funny or stupid or had one of your little eccentric moments..." Suddenly his eyes were watery and had begun to glaze over. Growing somewhat overcome himself, Remus twisted in his seat and folded the other dark haired man in a sympathetic embrace.

"I know, Siri," he soothed, feeling his voice grow unsteady, "I know..."

They clutched each other in a crushing hug for several moments, before Sirius drew away slightly and rested his forehead against Remus'.

"Remus... don't leave me alone again... please... I can't lose you as well."

Remus swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, "I won't. I just need time."

"As long as you want!" Sirius agreed immediately, bringing a small smile to Remus's lips.

"You won't have that much patience, Siri."

"I waited five years for you..." he uttered and leaned in slightly, tentatively intending to press a tiny kiss to the mouth just centimetres from his. But at that moment the front door slammed with such force the window rattled and someone - obviously Harry - pounded up the stairs as if all the dragons of Romania were chasing him. In a split second Remus was on his feet and out of the room. He dashed up the stairs and knocked on Harry's door. There was no response, merely the distinct sound of someone sobbing loudly.

"Harry?"

The sobbing continued.

"Harry, I'm going to come in-" He slowly opened the bedroom door and found the teenager curled up on his bed, clutching his pillow to his chest and sobbing against it. "Harry, whatever's happened?" he asked, moving to sit beside him. Sirius was at the door, hovering awkwardly from foot to foot.

"H-h-he hates m-me!" he managed, before curling up tighter and sobbing even louder.

Wincing, Remus lifted his shoulders and shifted him into a position in which he could hug him. "Who hates you?" he asked softly, rocking him like a young child. "Have you fallen out with Ron?"

"N-no."

"Then who?"

"D-Draco!" Harry said as if the answer was obvious.

"Draco? Well, why? What on Earth has happened?"

Sirius was scowling, a look that concerned Remus deeply. Don't you dare go anywhere, Sirius. Leave the kid alone.

"I t-t-tried to k-kiss h-h-him and he pushed me off and-"

"I thought you were seeing Gavin Cross..." Remus said in confusion.

"I w-was," Harry told him tearfully. "We s-saw him ki-s-ssing McKnight."

"Doing what?" Sirius demanded, sounding even more menacing than he had previously looked.

"Oh Harry," Remus sighed, squeezing him tightly as the teenager burrowed into his chest, "I'm sorry. Perhaps there was some mistake. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. After all, I sincerely doubt that you are the only person to have consumed... exceptionally potent and rather illegal liquids."

Harry gave struggled to stop crying, and failed. "But he h-hates me!"

"I'm sure he doesn't-"

"He said he doesn't w-w-want to speak to me..."

"You spoke to him after you saw him with this other boy?"

"No, I mean Draco! And it wasn't a b-boy, it was Claudia!"

"I'll tear his bloody-"

"You'll go downstairs and make tea, I think, actually," Remus told him firmly, the same threatening look in his eye that Lily used to use to control them all in their youth.

"What?"

"Tea, Padfoot. Now, please."

Sirius growled sulkily and stomped down the stairs.

"Alright, Harry," Remus began, much more softly, "what aren't you telling me?"

"W-what?"

"Well, you tried to kiss Draco Malfoy, apparently, and I think there must be some reason it means so much to you."

"I ups-ups-ups-s-set him."

Remus gave another small sigh, "Well, unfortunately, Harry, some people aren't interested in their own gender and-"

"He is!"

"I'm sorry?"

"H-he is. Interested. In m-m-me."

"Then why did he stop you?"

"'C-c-cause he says I don't r-really love him."

"Oh. Well, that does seem a little over-demanding of him at this stage-"

"N-no. He l-l-l-loves me -"

Remus' eyes widened behind his glasses. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry gave a heavy sigh and wearily explained, "He loves me. He h-hates me, too - because I'm stupid and I hurt him all the time. But he listens. He lets me talk about G-Gavin for hours and hours and he's one of my best fr-fr-friends. And Gavin was horrible. And he kissed Claudia McKnight and Draco always s-said he wasn't good eno-no-nough for me. So I wanted to... to be nice to h-him. I want to like him b-back! I know he's not going to-" he gave a loud sniff and wiped his nose on his smoky sleeve "-h-hurt me."

Remus grimaced and looked at the ceiling. "Harry," he began, "you can't force yourself to-"

"I KNOW!" Harry almost yelled. "I know and I hate it! It's n-not fair!"

"Well, do you like him at all?" Remus asked tentatively.

"He's my friend!"

"It's perfectly natural to fall for your friends, Harry - even if it seems a little strange at the time."

"It's n-not the strangeness, it's the - the realn-ness. I owe it to him, Moony! And Draco wouldn't... he wouldn't go off with someone else. Draco l-loves me... and Gavin doesn't." He swallowed and scrubbed his sleeve across his face again. "I feel sick."

Half an hour later, Harry was safely passed out in his bed, having sworn Remus to secrecy. For some reason he didn't want Sirius to know about the Slytherin's feelings. Remus was beginning to grow a little concerned about Harry's reluctance to tell Sirius anything; after all, it was Sirius who was his godfather.

"He's going to feel like an elephant has done a tap dance on his face in the morning," Sirius muttered, shaking his head.

"Well," Remus sighed, collecting together their mugs and moving to the door, "at least he'll know for next time."

"Know what? Never to trust drinks someone else gives you, that too much alcohol makes you vom or to make sure he takes some anti-quease before he gets pissed?"

"The second one." He extinguished the light and backed out of the room, closing the door softly. "We had to learn the hard way, didn't we?"

Sirius looked shocked, "Moony! There is a sadistic streak in you that I never knew of!"

"The memory will return in time," the other man said with a small, knowing smile.

The dark-haired man stared after him as he placed their mugs on a small table on the landing and ducked into his bedroom. For several minutes he continued to stare at the closed door, wondering exactly what Remus had meant. He only gave up and returned to his own room after the other man had called through the door:

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"I was teasing, go to bed."

Harry sat up suddenly in bed, his head was hurting like never before. It felt like his brain was on fire. Ohhh... if this is was what alcohol does I'm never drinking again! He scrunched his eyes up against the pain and opened them again to his darkened bedroom. He felt like something was missing. There was something in his head, some memory, that was out of bounds, hidden from him, somehow. He stumbled out of bed and staggered to his bedroom door, opening it just as Remus flew out of his own room, tugging on his over-robes and proceeded to bang on Sirius's bedroom door urgently.

"Sirius! Sirius, it's me, wake up!" he hissed urgently.

There was an indecipherable protest from within, and a few moments later the door was flung open by a very dishevelled Sirius. "What?" he demanded, "Changed your mind already?" He appeared to notice Harry and quickly added, "If you've just woken me up because Prince Piss Head, here's feels pukey -"

"Sirius, shut up and get dressed, we've been summoned. We need to get to the school immediately."

Without a pause, Sirius turned and launched himself back into his bedroom.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, nervously.

"We need you to get dressed and come up to the school right now, Harry," Remus told him calmly. "Dumbledore will explain when we get there."

Ten minutes later, Harry was racing across the lawns towards the school. Many of the lights were on, blazing orange the a thousand staring eyes. The cold air of early morning stung his cheeks and his head was throbbing. It ached and burned like never before, like white-hot pokers were being pressed through his skull. Harry had a terrible feeling that there was more to it than just a hangover.

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