Bond

Chapter 11

November 2 - November 5

Day 35, Monday

They shouldn't have tried to go to class today, Draco thought as he held on to the wall for dear life, his thoughts clouded and slow. They should've gone straight from Gryffindor to the hospital wing. Or maybe back to their quarters.

Why hadn't they?

Because...because Potter had said they had to try. He'd said... something about the hospital being too easy, too much like admitting they were done for.

And why was that bad?

God, he didn't remember any more. The stone beneath his fingers was cool and smooth, and he was arguing with himself, and he didn't even remember what the argument was about.

Going to the hospital was bad because... because they didn't want to give up. Right.

Why couldn't they go back to their quarters instead of Potions class?

Because then they'd want to have sex and then they would pass out and nobody would find them and...

And why was that a bad thing?

Sod it, he didn't know.

He should've fought Potter harder. He shouldn't have let Potter convince him to try to go to class. But he was in Gryffindor territory, surrounded by them, and the others looked dubious but basically wanted their precious Harry to prevail, and he wanted to go to class, and Draco didn't have the strength to fight them all. And besides, he'd thought, maybe they were right and they could do this.

Bad idea, trusting Gryffindors at all, let alone trusting them to be rational where Potter was concerned. They loved him, they believed he could do just about anything. Despite the fact that it had taken Weasley and Longbottom and Thomas about half an hour just to get them out of bed, they wanted to believe that this was just mind over matter and if Harry put his mind to it Harry could do it, because Harry could do anything.

Stupid Gryffindors didn't have a fucking clue that Harry was barely hanging on. They didn't have a bond that let them feel it, and they didn't have the sense God gave even the stupidest Slytherin child. A fucking sense of reality.

And they'd been staring reality in the face for days. Reality was that they could barely function yesterday, that the efforts of the entire Sleep Prevention Squad - as they had, in typical Gryffindor fashion, immediately dubbed themselves - had been insufficient to keep them awake past eight o'clock last night. Reality was that this morning he and Potter were so exhausted they'd barely been able to dress themselves, and Seamus Finnigan had invented some reason why he just had to leave the room while the other three gamely pretended it didn't bother them at all to see him and Potter in bed together bare as the day they were born and too weak to pull the sheets up. If that wasn't reality, he didn't know what was.

He should've fought them harder. Or maybe not fought as hard. Because the fight itself had worn out Potter. And Potter had made it most of the way down the corridor to Potions, but now, with the classroom in sight, he had stopped, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. And Draco had no choice but to stop and wait for him, as the rest of the Gryffindors went ahead into the classroom.

"Potter." Draco pushed off from the wall. "Come on."

Potter shook his head, and his eyes were glazed as he met Draco's, and he started slowly sliding down the wall.

"No, Potter, come on. Stop that!" No answer, just Potter's eyes finally closing as he slumped to the floor. Draco leaned down slightly.

"Damn it, Potter, I can't carry you, I can barely stand up myself. Come on!"

Potter didn't stir.

Oh Merlin.

No, this couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end.

Damn it, fuck Slytherin reality, he needed that stupid Gryffindor faith that Potter could do anything, because maybe if he believed it enough, it would be true. Because he needed Potter to be able to get up and keep going, he needed him to not give up...and he glanced at the Potions classroom, hoping somebody would come out and see why they weren't there yet. Pansy, or Blaise...or Granger, or Weasley, or anybody.

"Potter!" Draco said sharply, to no effect.

God, no.

He tried to clear his mind, gather his strength, think about what to do next. But it was so damned hard...and he was so damn tired...and Potter, damn him, had failed him, so much for the hero of the wizarding world, so much for the Boy Who Lived who could do anything - suddenly Draco's frustration and fear broke through his exhaustion and he pushed himself off the wall, fury giving him energy. "You stupid fucking Gryffindor!!" He kicked Potter, who barely reacted, "Stand up!!" He heard a noise from the classroom and kicked Potter again, then punched the wall, hard, at the end of his rope. "Stand UP!!"

Potter groaned, unable to react otherwise, and Draco's anger died as quickly as it had flared up and he slid down the wall, ending up kneeling next to Potter, barely registering the sound of running footsteps. "Potter, come on. Please...please, get up." He tugged at Potter's arm, shaking him. "Wake up, come on, please-"

Weasley skidded to a stop before them, Granger at his heels. "You fucking bastard!! What's the matter with you?" He grabbed Draco and pulled him away from Potter, who shuddered and reached out for him, green eyes open now, but dull and unfocussed. Draco gasped at the searing fire from Weasley's hands, weakly trying to wrest out of his grip.

"Ron!! That hurts Harry too!" Granger pulled him back and they both crouched down, looking helpless. Draco grabbed Potter's hands, stopping their blind, aimless grasp for him. He looked up and focussed on Granger, frowning in concentration.

"Granger. Get Pomfrey. He needs help-"

"You're fucking right he needs help, you foul - you KICKED him-"

"No, that's not - he needs help, he's going under, I can't - get Pomfrey, he needs - no, shhh," he murmured into Potter's ear, pulling him close and supporting him weakly, muffling Potter's half-conscious whimpers. "We're going to the hospital, we'll be all right, shh..." He looked back up at Granger. "Please, get Pomfrey-" Granger nodded to Weasley, who took off at a run.

"You bastard!!" Granger hissed furiously at Draco. "How could you??"

Draco didn't bother answering her, just hung on to Potter, who clung to him desperately, oblivious to the crowd of students coming out of their classrooms and gathering around them, and damn Potter anyway for collapsing in the busiest hallway of the school on Monday morning. "Shh..." He closed his eyes, holding Potter close and trying to ride out the waves of nausea and weakness sweeping over them both. "We'll be all right soon," he murmured and Potter, half-conscious, mumbled something. He smoothed Potter's hair with a trembling hand, and Granger made a small sound of dismay in her throat.

"Malfoy - your hand," she said. "Are you all right?"

"Does it look like we're all right?" Draco muttered. Honestly, Gryffindors.

"You're - you're bleeding," Granger stammered. Draco nodded drowsily.

"Myeah, 'sallright," he said, starting to slide down further on the wall.

"No - wait, I don't think you should - Madam Pomfrey said you can't give in, it doesn't help - Malfoy! Stay awake!"

It seemed that she was worried about something, Draco thought distantly, but it was hard to figure out what, when everything was getting blurrier and the world was narrowing down to nothing but himself, Potter, and the blessed oblivion calling to them...

"Malfoy! Harry!!" Granger's voice was taking on an edge of panic. She poked Draco in the shoulder and he gasped with pain and opened his eyes. What the hell was her problem?

"Draco?? Draco!!" Pansy's frantic voice was coming from somewhere, probably she'd been in the Potions classroom already when they'd gone down, but damn it he couldn't tell where she was now-

"Malfoy!" Oh thank god, that was Pomfrey's voice. "All right, come on. Get up, back to the hospital for you."

"He can't, they're exhausted, they can't even stand up any more-" Granger was babbling.

"What are you all gawking at?" Draco dimly heard Pansy's voice rising stridently. "Do none of you have business elsewhere? Goyle-"

"Everybody MOVE!" Goyle bellowed, and Draco felt the whispering and rustling of many bodies moving off. "Stupid firsties - GO!! Fuck OFF!!"

"Everybody but Granger, Parkinson, Weasley and Goyle, back to your classrooms!" Pomfrey shouted.

"What's wrong with them?" Pansy demanded.

"What's wrong with them is they need to come to the hospital again and they don't need a lot of nosy busybodies about - no I'm not talking about you Miss Parkinson, Merlin's beard - you two, help them up-" and Draco's arm burst into flame as somebody who wasn't Potter touched him - "Yes, I know, it hurts them, there's no help for it and it'll keep them awake - Mr. Potter, you're going to have to get up - yes, I know that hurts a lot more, that's just too bad-"

Draco tried to keep from crying out as Goyle hoisted him up and slung his arm over his shoulders. His whole side was on fire, and he couldn't stop the small gasps of pain, he was burning up-

"The quicker you get there, the quicker you can get away from them. Let's go, then," Pomfrey said briskly, and Draco wondered if there was any way of getting his father to have her fired as soon as he was better, for treating them like little boys who were just being difficult when the truth was that they were faced with a choice between the agony of trying to walk and the agony of having Weasley and Goyle practically carry them.

"That's hurting him!" Pansy was saying shrilly. "Can't you levitate him there?"

"For that you need a full-body bind and the Healer wants to avoid that if at all possible," Pomfrey said. "Mr. Malfoy, when you get to the hospital wing, you will be able to sit and not touch anybody. Now. Move."

Sit. Not touch. Anybody. Except the one person who could make him feel even marginally better. That was worth making the effort to push through the pain and dizziness.

Not that he really had any other choice.

ooooooo

Hermione tensed and moved closer to Harry as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy strode into the hospital wing. Wishing she could touch Harry, let him know that even though he didn't have parents to visit him, there were people who loved him gathered near him. She and Ron had been at his bedside for hours. Earlier in the day, Neville and Ginny and a host of other students and professors had come by, until Pomfrey had banned everyone but Ron, Hermione, Pansy Parkinson and Snape from the hospital wing.

Unfortunately, Harry had been in and out of it since arriving at the hospital, and was now mostly unconscious.

Narcissa's hand went over her mouth as she approached Malfoy and looked down at him. Hermione followed her gaze, wondering briefly what it would be like to see him as a mother would - and was immediately appalled. His normally pale face was so void of colour that his eyebrows looked black in comparison. Skin translucent, fragile, almost incorporeal. Breath so soft it seemed almost nonexistent. Hermione glanced up at Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius showed no expression at all.

Hermione turned back to the bed, surprised to see that Malfoy was stirring faintly.

"They said you were still unconscious," Narcissa blurted as he opened his eyes, and hastened to his side, wringing her hands together, plainly wanting to touch him and unable to think of what to do otherwise.

"Yeah..." Malfoy said, his voice distant, focussing on her with difficulty. "Heard you... come in."

"Draco, what happened?"

"On our way to class..." Malfoy trailed off, closing his eyes again, the effort of speaking too draining.

"They had been losing energy steadily for the last few days," Snape spoke up. "They were able to get up this morning, but collapsed before the first class."

"Why were we not informed that the situation was this serious?" Lucius asked, his eyes fixed on his son and his voice dangerously quiet.

"Your son didn't want you to worry," Pomfrey said, waving a couple of chairs close to the hospital bed so that the Malfoys could sit down. "And there was nothing you could do. We were - we are - making all possible efforts to get to the bottom of this and help them."

"What have you discovered so far?" Lucius asked, ignoring the chair, still staring at Malfoy, whose face had turned towards Narcissa's but who otherwise seemed non-responsive.

"We have a few ideas," Pomfrey said. "Healer Esposito and Auror Pantere will have more information for you later." Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Right now, your son needs you. Please sit with him."

"My son is almost unconscious and has little idea that we're here," Lucius spat angrily, fixing her with a glare. "He can barely string together a coherent sentence. I would like to know what is going on."

"You will, once we are all present."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Everybody who's part of this case. We're waiting for Remus Lupin and Professor Dumbledore."

"The werewolf! But-"

"Dad..." Malfoy said faintly, and Hermione started slightly, never having heard him call Lucius anything but Father or Sir. "Please. Just...sit."

Lucius immediately went to his son's side. "Draco, why did not you tell us-"

"Lucius, this is not the time," Narcissa said quietly. "Draco...how are you feeling?"

"Like hell," Malfoy said faintly, his grey eyes clouded.

"Well, we're here. We're here, sweetheart," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh shit, Mum, don't," he said weakly, looking away from her, his brow furrowing. "Don't-" he turned away from her, burying his face against Harry's shoulder, breathing deeply to calm himself, and Narcissa nodded and blinked her eyes rapidly, wiping away her tears. Lucius took the chair that had been drawn for him, his cool gaze sweeping over the people gathered around Harry and Malfoy, dismissing Hermione and Ron and focussing on Parkinson and Snape.

"Why did you not inform me of the severity of his condition?" he asked Snape, keeping his voice low.

"I didn't know the extent of what was going on until today. I had assumed that the situation was under control-"

"You were supposed to be monitoring him."

Snape nodded soberly. "I should have been more vigilant. I apologize."

"The Gryffindors knew," Parkinson said coldly. "They didn't see fit to inform anybody else, though."

Lucius and Narcissa both fixed Hermione and Ron with their stares, and Hermione felt Ron surreptitiously take her hand.

"And what did you do about it?"

"The Healer had said that they should be kept awake as much as possible," Hermione said. "We tried, but-"

"Why didn't you say anything to Draco's friends?" Parkinson asked angrily. "We could have helped-"

"We were doing everything we could," Ron said.

"Just the two of you?" she sneered. "Maybe if you'd had help, you could've-"

"There were six of us!"

"Six?" Parkinson pounced. "All Gryffindors, I presume? You didn't think Draco's friends were worthy of even being told-"

"Listen, Malfoy didn't-"

"Didn't want to worry you," Hermione cut in quickly. "I don't think either of them realized just how bad things were getting."

Lucius fixed her with an unnervingly calculating gaze, and she squeezed Ron's hand again, trying to communicate to him that he should really not open his mouth again. Then Lucius' attention fixed on his son, and Hermione wished she could tell what he was thinking. Was he annoyed that Malfoy had tried to hide the severity of his condition from everybody? Pleased that he had been properly mistrustful of his fellow Slytherins? Angry that apparently he'd confided in Gryffindors?

"What have the Healers said?" Narcissa asked quietly. "What's causing this? All we were told was that their bond seemed to be causing them fatigue."

"Erm..." Ron began. "Well...they, they - when, um-"

"They feel tired after sex," Hermione broke in bluntly.

Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Well who doesn't?" she said impatiently. "What does that-"

"No, they feel too tired. And resting doesn't help them in the long run. It just keeps getting worse and worse. That's why we were trying to keep them awake."

"So why are they being allowed to sleep now?"

"This is as alert as they've been able to get. The Healer and Madam Pomfrey have been dosing them with everything they can think of, casting every charm that might help-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?" Pomfrey called. "We're ready here." She gestured to the small hospital wing office, where Remus Lupin was being ushered in.

Lucius curled his lip in distaste. "Ah yes, the werewolf has seen fit to make an appearance." He stood up, gestured to Narcissa and Snape to join him.

"No, Lucius, I want to stay here," Narcissa said, not taking her eyes off of her son. He nodded and turned towards the office, stopping in surprise as Hermione stood up and Snape stepped back to allow her to precede them into the office.

"What-"

"Miss Granger is coming to the meeting," Snape said neutrally. Lucius raised a disdainful eyebrow.

"How lucky Mr. Potter is," he said mockingly. "Absent Muggles, a werewolf, and an adolescent girl as his parental figures."

"I'm not here as a parental figure," Hermione said evenly. "I've been working with the Healer doing research, and I've been asked to join her in presenting what we've discovered so far."

Hermione firmly told herself that it was utterly inappropriate for her to indulge in even a moment's gloating or thrill of vindictive pleasure at the completely outraged expressions on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's faces.

ooooooo

Day 36, Tuesday

"Sir, you can't-" Pantere was saying urgently the next day, as she and Esposito followed Lucius and a small man in Healer's robes into the hospital wing. Ron, Narcissa, and Snape looked up.

"We're taking him home," Lucius told Narcissa curtly.

"What??" Ron and Snape said simultaneously as Narcissa nodded nervously and slowly stood up.

"Mr. Malfoy-" Esposito began.

"Stand aside," Lucius said to Pantere as she stepped between the new Healer and Malfoy's bedside.

"You are not going to remove this boy from school grounds," Esposito said. "He needs to be here where we can help him-"

"He is not safe in this school," Lucius said coolly. "So far this year, Draco has been cursed, landed in the hospital because nobody was monitoring to make sure he and Potter didn't do anything stupid, almost got killed in a fight, and he is now dying because of a curse that nobody seems to know how to cure." He drew himself up. "Our family can afford Healers who will be able to deal with this situation far better anybody has so far. I am taking him home."

"You can't take him without Potter," Pomfrey said, joining them at Harry and Malfoy's bedside. Ron gulped and stood up, drawing his wand to defend Harry if Lucius tried anything funny.

Lucius gave Pomfrey a look of withering contempt. "I will of course bring Mr. Potter along as well."

"There is no way that you will be permitted to take Harry Potter to your home, Mr. Malfoy," Pantere said calmly. "You must know that. The outstanding charges against you alone would be sufficient to-"

"I will petition the Wizangemot to-"

"You will make us waste valuable time fighting in court instead of trying to cure them or trying to find out who did this to them."

Harry stirred and Ron quickly drew closer to him, losing the thread of the discussion as he and Pomfrey quickly determined that Harry was awake and aware of his surroundings. What ruddy awful timing, thought Ron. Waking up to Lucius Malfoy wanting to move you to Death Eater Central.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered.

"Nothing, just Malfoy's father's being a pillock. Don't worry about it."

"Be reasonable, Lucius-" Snape was saying, and Lucius narrowed his eyes at him and changed tactics abruptly.

"Very well, then. He will go to St. Mungo's. Surely that counts as reasonable?"

"He is staying here. They are both staying here," Pomfrey said firmly.

"You have no authority to keep Draco here. He is an adult. If he were conscious, he would choose where to go, and he would choose to go to St. Mungo's."

"I wouldn't," Harry said faintly.

Lucius ignored him. "There is no reason they cannot both be taken to St. Mungo's-"

"Other than the fact that your private Healers will try to slip in all sorts of Dark magic that they couldn't get past the wards at Hogwarts," Pomfrey said coldly. "What are they ready to use? Unicorn blood? Phoenix hearts? Anything else that'll save their lives at a price that Potter at least wouldn't want to pay?"

"Be silent," Lucius said dangerously.

"You can't take me to St. Mungo's," Harry said weakly, sitting up slightly.

"I can take my son," Lucius finally acknowledged Harry. "Whether you choose to come or not is no concern of mine."

"But it is a concern for Draco, Lucius," Snape said urgently. "If you take him away from Potter-"

"There are ways of getting around their bond," Lucius said. Ron glanced at Esposito in surprise as she nodded calmly, as though she'd expected this.

"Mr. Malfoy," Esposito said with forced patience. "Most people do not even know that such a thing is possible, and for good reason. Such a step is only appropriate where spouses are in mortal peril-"

"Which is precisely the case here."

"'Mortal peril' means 'about to die'. Hanging off a cliff or something like that. Not receiving medical care that you have decided is inadequate. It is almost never attempted, because even with the best precautions it too often results in the death of one or both spouses."

"It can be done," Lucius repeated stubbornly.

"Yes, it can. It will almost certainly kill Mr. Potter and may very well kill both of them."

"So may staying here. I will take that chance."

"That chance may kill both of them," Pantere broke in. "But maybe that's what you want?"

"What??"

"Our working theory right now is that this curse was cast by a Death Eater, to kill Mr. Potter. Wouldn't it be convenient if your actions were to cause that death? And you could successfully argue that you only did it to save your son."

"How dare you??"

"And would it matter that that puts your own son in danger?"

Lucius seemed speechless.

"Stop it," Harry said wearily. "He can hear you."

"What?" Pantere glanced at Harry and Malfoy in puzzlement.

"They've both reported during lucid moments that they can sometimes hear what's going on around them even when they can't respond," Pomfrey explained to Pantere. "We don't know if he can hear or understand what you are saying to his father right now. I won't have you upsetting my patient by accusing his father of being prepared to murder him."

"And I will not dignify that accusation with a response," Lucius added. "I am taking my son to St. Mungo's now."

"You cannot say for certain that Draco would choose to go there if he could," Pantere said.

"Draco is unconscious; he cannot make decisions for himself. I am his father, and I say-"

"You're not his next of kin," Harry said slowly, "I am."

There was a long silence.

Ron swallowed hard and moved closer to Harry's side. Harry had said once that he was fairly sure that Lucius Malfoy was going to Avada Kedavra him in anger many years ago, when he'd tricked him into freeing Dobby. Seeing his face right now, Ron could certainly believe it. And Harry was totally defenceless right now.

Actually, not totally defenceless. Besides the people surrounding him, ready to stand between him and Lucius, the stunning irony was that Harry's best protection against Lucius Malfoy right now was bloody Draco Malfoy himself.

"He is right, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey finally said. "You are no longer the person with the right to decide what happens to your son when he is unable to speak for himself. Potter is."

"This is ridiculous. It's not even a proper bond-"

"That doesn't matter."

"I am going to take my son to a place where he can be helped-"

"No," Harry said very faintly. "He's not going."

"You know he would want to."

"He can't say so right now," Harry said, and Ron wondered whether Harry thought Malfoy would choose to stay or go if he could. He supposed it didn't really matter.

"I will petition the Wizen-"

"Lucius...we can't win this one," Narcissa said softly. "I...I don't like this any more than you do, but I think..."

Lucius stared at his wife speechlessly, then at his son. His throat worked as he visibly struggled to resign himself to the situation.

"Very well," he finally said. "Then I will use our family's resources to try to find the caster of the spell. Narcissa, stay here in case he wakes up, so that you can ask him where he wants to be. Be prepared to take him immediately. And I expect you," he nodded at Snape, "to stay as well, as a witness." He glanced at the Healer he'd brought in, jerked his head towards the door, turned on his heel and swept out of the room without a backward glance, the Healer close behind him.

Narcissa Malfoy sat down, trembling, and Snape touched her arm.

"Narcissa?"

"He's - he doesn't-" and Narcissa clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, obviously not willing to talk candidly in front of Ron or Harry. Snape's gaze flickered from Ron to Harry, and he frowned. Ron followed his glance.

"Harry..." Ron said softly, shaking his head. Harry had slipped back into sleep again.

ooooooo

Day 38, Thursday

Hermione leaned her head on her hand wearily as Esposito talked, and hoped she looked more confident than she felt. Glanced at the people she'd been working with for the last three days: Esposito, Pomfrey, Lupin, Snape, Narcissa Malfoy, and two Healers the Malfoys had brought in. Except for Narcissa Malfoy, they all looked fairly sure of themselves. Hermione realized that she'd probably never trust another Healer again, knowing they could be this good at dissembling. There was no reason for them to look self-confident at all. None of them had any idea that what they were proposing was going to work; they had simply run out of time to come up with anything else.

The last three days had been exhausting and nerve-wrecking, with Healers and Aurors working at an increasingly frantic pace as Harry and Malfoy slipped further and further down, their waking periods steadily less frequent and less lucid, until they were barely breathing on their own and the Healers judged that, without a counter-spell, all the life-sustaining spells and potions in the world wouldn't keep them alive for another day.

And, since Pantere and the other Aurors had made almost no progress tracking down the caster of the spell, the group working on counter-spells and potions were being forced to try the counter-spell they'd developed, which was as close as they could get to a solution. Which was not nearly close enough.

The spell they'd developed was complex and couldn't be done by only one person; it would depend in large part on the emotions and memories and magical power of a group of people casting it together. Thirteen, Professor Vector had said after lengthy Arithmantic study. Five who were close to Harry, five close to Malfoy, and three 'neutral' parties. Hence this meeting, to explain the counter-spell to the people who had been selected to perform it and who had not been part of its development. A group that was sadly deficient in proper balances and strengths. Parents for Malfoy, but none for Harry. Close, trusted and proven friends for Harry; Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini for Malfoy, neither one of whom Hermione would trust with a Galleon, let alone Harry's - or even Malfoy's - life.

Even his parents couldn't be trusted, thought Hermione as she stared at Lucius Malfoy's expressionless face. They didn't even know how Lucius would react to their proposed spell, considering what Malfoy had done two days ago.

Hermione hadn't been there to see Lucius' reaction; she'd only seen Narcissa's. During one of the last times he'd been awake, Narcissa had spoken to Malfoy for a long time, quietly and more gently than Hermione ever suspected she could speak, explaining what was going on, and had finally asked him whether he wanted to be taken to St. Mungo's. Malfoy's expression had been impossible to read. He'd gazed at Harry, asleep next to him, for a long time before silently shaking his head. And Hermione had wished she could've known why he'd decided to stay; whether he was afraid of leaving Harry, or genuinely didn't want to, or whether he just didn't trust his father. There was no way to tell.

Narcissa had merely nodded, gently telling her son, "It's all right. I'll explain it to your father. Don't worry." And Hermione couldn't help but sense that Narcissa was relieved, for all that she looked nervous about breaking the news to her husband.

Lucius had not been back since. And they had no idea what he'd say to their proposal now. And without him...

Harry's life, depending on the good will of Lucius Malfoy. It was painfully ironic.

Not to mention also depending on the good will of Narcissa Malfoy, Snape, Zabini and Parkinson. A more unlikely set of saviours for the Boy Who Lived could not have been put together if they'd tried. Hermione looked away from Parkinson's hard stare as the Healer explained that they thought they were dealing with an Unbalancing Curse that disrupted a natural magical balance of opposites. In this case, Life and Death. Sex, a strong conduit of Life Magic, was somehow being twisted to bring about Death Magic. The natural balance between the two was being thrown off, and the only thing they could think to counter that imbalance was to flood it out with balance.

"You all know that a Dementor, which feeds on negative feelings and emotions, is fought off by the magical power of good memories and joy," Esposito was explaining. "In the same manner, we are hoping that the animating part of this curse, which feeds off of imbalance, will be fought off by the power of balance. And in order to provide the balance, we need you. We've chosen seven balanced pairs of magical elements, and we will need you to provide the magic and memories to invoke them." Esposito paused for a moment, looking around the room, gauging her audience's receptiveness so far.

"You all know that group casting is difficult and draining, and requires a great deal of trust. There are a few risks, mostly related to the dangers of dealing with uncommonly strong magic and getting caught in a backlash if a member of the circle fails. As well, you will each be closely linked to one other member of the circle and that can feel... uncomfortable. Intrusive, and disconcerting. Moreover, when a spell requires strong emotions and memories for the casting, there is always some...well, leakage, among the group of casters. A sort of involuntary Legilimency will take place. That will no doubt be difficult to deal with, as you catch glimpses of the memories of the other members of the circle, and know that they can catch glimpses of your own.

"We know that we are asking for a great deal from each of you. We also know that, because of the nature of this group, many of you have unfortunate histories with one another, and much reason to be hesitant about exposing yourselves and your memories to each other. But this is the best chance these two young men have of being freed from their curse. We wouldn't ask it if there was any other choice."

She paused and cleared her throat. "One other thing. If you agree to be part of this, each of you will have to agree to be questioned under Veritaserum to make sure that you have no knowledge of who cast this curse. I will take Veritaserum myself, and then I will conduct the questioning." She looked steadily at Lucius as she spoke. "And I will also ask Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore to join me during the questioning, after they have gone under Veritaserum themselves."

Lucius' eyebrows went up but he remained otherwise impassive.

"You have three hours to decide and prepare yourselves, before we begin teaching the spell to the group. If you decide not to participate, please let us know as soon as possible, so that we may replace you."

Hermione gulped. There were no real viable replacements for Malfoy's side. If any of them decided not to participate, the only other possibilities were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, neither of whom was strong magically, and both of whom had a relationship with Malfoy that more closely resembled that of bodyguards and servants than true friends. And if one of Malfoy's own parents backed out...

Damn those Slytherin poker faces. There was no way to tell what Lucius or Parkinson or Zabini were thinking. Narcissa and Snape were committed; Narcissa had said as much. But as for the other three...

ooooooo

"He will not forgive us for this, Narcissa," Lucius said flatly.

The conversation had not started off promisingly to say the least, Snape thought as he and Narcissa traded a look. Snape inclined his head at her, indicating that she should start.

"Lucius, we have to."

"The Healers don't even know that this will work."

"I've been there while they've been developing it. It has as much chance of working as anything does."

"Which is not much," Lucius said bitterly.

"It's the best chance he'll get."

"Using their methods."

"We don't have a choice," she said reasonably. "They are prejudiced against the sorts of methods we could use."

"And we cannot change their minds. You know that, Lucius," Snape said. "There is no chance of Dumbledore or Esposito or anybody else in that room agreeing to what your Healers suggested."

"The risks-"

"I know," Snape interrupted wearily. "The negative effect of unicorn blood as a life-extender has been exaggerated by mealy-mouthed cowards. There are no negative effects associated with using phoenix hearts, except to the damned birds themselves. Trying to turn the curse back upon its caster without knowing the identity of the caster is not nearly as dangerous as the hypocrites in that room claim." He took a deep breath. "But you will not be able to convince them of that. Not in time to save Draco."

Lucius shook his head. "Had you fought them when Draco said he wanted to stay here - the Healer herself said that he was just confused-"

"Yes, we all know he was," said Snape soothingly, knowing no such thing but knowing that the only way Lucius could deal with his son's choice was to pretend Draco hadn't understood what he was doing. "But you know we had no chance of being able to take him away once he chose to stay. Confused or not, his decision stands. Even if it didn't, that would only mean that we'd have to follow Potter's wishes instead."

"He was just as addled-"

"He didn't look it," Narcissa reminded him. "He looked and sounded lucid."

"As far as that insufferable boy could ever look lucid," Snape muttered.

"You didn't even try to convince Draco to change his mind," Lucius accused Narcissa.

"I couldn't, not with others there."

"You couldn't because you were relieved that he'd decided to stay," Lucius said grimly.

Snape tensed, abruptly wishing very much that he were somewhere else, anywhere else, where he wouldn't have to be here to witness an argument between the Malfoys.

Narcissa swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and met her husband's eyes nervously. "Y-yes, I was. I don't think you're thinking enough about Draco. I..." Her jaw trembled but she steadied herself and went on. "I think you're placing too high a priority on what the Dark Lord will think. You should be more concerned with your own son's welfare."

"I was. I am. You are worried about the danger of trying to break his bond; have you stopped to think of the danger of him remaining bound to our Lord's mortal enemy? I am thinking of his welfare-" Lucius' voice broke and he immediately pressed his lips together and turned away from them.

Snape looked away, uncomfortable at witnessing Lucius' fear finally breaking through his façade of calm, cold disregard. Waited for him to pull himself together, knowing that Lucius would not forgive either of them if they pressed him to speak before he'd collected himself. Because a Malfoy did not show doubts or fears, not even when his only son was at death's door.

Damn Lucius anyway, thought Snape impatiently. It was past time for him to remember that he was a father before he was a Malfoy, for once in his life.

Privately Snape had often thought that Lucius, whatever his talents at business, politics and magic, was a piss-poor parent. His combination of ludicrous spoiling, emotional neglect, and unthinkable harshness towards Draco had produced a boy who had far more in common with Potter than any of them cared to admit. Much brighter, but with the same arrogant assumption that everything would be arranged to his liking, because most things were. And, like Potter, utterly lacking in self-discipline and character. Not fit, in any way, to eventually become the head of a powerful wizarding family, or to lead anybody in the wizarding world - any more than Potter was fit to lead anybody into battle against Voldemort. A useless, spoiled boy, quickly becoming a useless, spoiled young man, with a host of insecurities covered by rudeness and meanness. As much as Snape cared for the boy, he couldn't blind himself to his many faults.

And Lucius, most of the time, didn't seem to give a damn. Whenever he wasn't showing ridiculous pride or utter contempt for his son, he showed absolute disinterest, and devoted himself to more interesting pursuits such as being Voldemort's right hand.

And now here he was. Forced to take an interest in Draco in order to save his life. And he couldn't even do that without tying it in to Voldemort somehow.

Snape lowered his eyes as Lucius finally turned around again, his control visibly fragile. Because poor parent though he was, he did love his son, in his own inadequate way. He was worried. It was killing him. He was more angry and frustrated and scared than Snape could ever remember him being.

Lucius spoke quietly but intensely to Narcissa. "The only protection Draco has as long as he's bonded to Potter is us. We need to stay in the Dark Lord's graces, for Draco's sake. And you know he will not forgive us for this. Harry Potter is dying, and we are going to enter into a healing circle to save him? Not to mention risk divulging secrets about the Dark Lord and his followers? There is no way that we can take that step without it being seen as betrayal."

"You don't have much of a choice if you want Draco to live," Snape said bluntly, and Lucius looked away, nervously chewing on his lip as Snape hadn't seen him do since he was a young man.

"Does participating in this spell not pose a problem for you as well, Severus?" Narcissa asked.

"My instructions are to take part in whatever heroics are demanded of me. I will of course try to get as much information as I can about the others during the spell, although I doubt there will be anything there that I don't already know. But it will be a good opportunity to see if I can get anything new out of Potter. And possibly Dumbledore as well."

"That doddering old fool will be trying to do the same with Draco," Lucius said. "With all of us, probably."

"I doubt it. He's a noble Gryffindor," Narcissa said scornfully.

"He's as devious as any Slytherin," Snape said. "That's probably why he hates us so much. And he will be trying to probe our minds, I think. If he can."

"I find it unbelievable that he was suggested as one of the 'neutral' participants," Lucius said. "Everybody knows how he feels about Potter."

"There wasn't anybody else," Narcissa said wearily. "We tried, Lucius." She touched his arm and he drew away. She cleared her throat. "In any case, he won't get much useful information about us from Draco," she said reasonably. "And our thoughts won't be as visible as his; it's mostly Draco's mind that will be laid bare for the others to see."

"Yes, 'the others'," Lucius repeated scornfully. "Mudbloods and Weasleys and werewolves."

"A Mudblood and a Weasley and a werewolf are going to save your son's life, Lucius," Snape said bluntly. "Distasteful as the idea may be, you may as well accept it. And be grateful that it's only one of the Weasleys; the youngest daughter was a candidate for Potter's side, as were Weasleys Senior, standing in as Potter's parents."

"I also don't trust that Zabini child," Lucius said.

"He has to be there," Narcissa said. "We need people with precognitive gifts, and unfortunately the only ones with even a glimmer of them are Blaise, Dumbledore and Pomfrey. And even they aren't strong enough in the Sight to really be Seers."

"And his family has never definitively allied itself to the Dark Lord," said Snape. "They're less likely to object to him participating in the spell."

"What about Parkinson's daughter? Her family has always stood with ours, but Draco didn't tell her how close he was to collapse."

"Draco trusts her... as much as he can trust anybody," Snape said.

"We did consider Crabbe or Goyle," Narcissa said, "But they're not terribly powerful magically. And we weren't sure their fathers would allow them."

"They would, if I told them to," Lucius said. He narrowed his eyes. "They would. Actually, one of them could take my place; it would be perfectly understandable for one of them to want to help a school friend, and we could tell the Dark Lord that by substituting one of them for me, we thought the spell might not work-"

"We could tell him that because it's true. They aren't powerful enough. Without you in the circle, Draco will die," Narcissa said desperately. "Lucius... we don't have anybody else. This spell needs people with strong ties to both of them to work. If Blaise or Pansy back out, we might be able to replace them with another friend of Draco's. But if you do... you and I have the strongest ties to Draco. The circle is already in danger of not being powerful enough because Potter doesn't have parents to join in, to provide the kind of strength we have. We can't lose you."

"You must decide, Lucius," Snape broke in brusquely. "It is literally your son or your Lord. And you are running out of time."

ooooooo

"I will bring each of you in, one at a time," Esposito told them calmly some hours later in a large room in the Astronomy Tower, as all thirteen gathered in two circles around Malfoy and Harry, the inner circle composed of Esposito, Pomfrey and Dumbledore, the outer one composed of the ten other members. "You will speak the ritual words and concentrate on creating a strong circle, paying special attention to the person you are partnered with. Once the circles are steady, we will attempt the balancing spell and you will concentrate on the paired elements as we name them. Are you ready?"

They all nodded. No more time for last-minute checks to see if they were doing this right. No more time to second-guess themselves, move anybody around, rearrange the pairings. This would either work, or it wouldn't.

Esposito lifted her wand and began the process, bringing Pomfrey and Dumbledore's magic into a circle with her, thin streams of light joining their wands together.

"Speak your name," Esposito told Hermione. Hermione took a quick breath and cleared her mind, lifted her wand and fleetingly wished that her previous experience with group spells had been just a little more extensive than a few simple water-controlling tricks in sixth-year Charms and a few collaborative spells in an extracurricular Musical Magic class two years ago.

"I am Hermione Granger and I join my magic to yours," she said. A thin stream of light came from her wand and slowly drifted towards the light from Esposito's wand.

"Speak your name."

"I am Pansy Parkinson," said the voice next to Hermione, and Hermione didn't turn to look at her as she concentrated on Esposito's wand. "And I join my magic to yours."

Concentrate, Hermione told herself as the names went on and more lights were joined. Minerva McGonagall. Blaise Zabini. Ron Weasley...

"Speak your name," said Esposito, her voice betraying not the slightest bit of trepidation as the trickiest part of the spell casting began.

"I am Narcissa Malfoy and I join my magic to yours," Malfoy's mother said softly, and Hermione steeled herself as Narcissa's light joined the circle, then slowly connected, with a slight... tug... to Hermione's light. Hermione felt an odd connection to Narcissa, her partner in the circle. Felt her nervousness, her hesitancy. Her discomfort.

Was this what it had felt like for Harry to find himself bound to Malfoy? This uneasy awareness of somebody else's thoughts and emotions inside your head? This unpleasant sensation of being connected to somebody you found distasteful? Hermione could almost touch Narcissa's instinctive disgust, almost see word 'Mudblood' floating in space between them.

It felt incredibly strange. But the link was holding. It was working.

One pairing down, four more to go.

"I am Neville Longbottom and I join my magic to yours," said Neville nervously, and his light joined the circle and then, after an agonizing pause, joined Parkinson's, their connection weak and unclear, but there.

Two down. Severus Snape joined McGonagall, Remus Lupin joined Zabini, and then...

"I am Lucius Malfoy and I join my magic to yours," the cold voice beside Hermione said, and Hermione closed her eyes, unwilling to see Ron's pale face as he braced for their magic to be joined, feeling Narcissa's almost frantic struggle to remain calm as they all waited for the last connection to be made.

And waited.

Waited.

Hermione opened her eyes, met Ron's across the circle, saw that he was concentrating with all his strength on the web of light, a bead of sweat trickling into one eye, silently mouthing something, and she could feel him trying to reach for Lucius, to bring him in to the circle...

And Lucius wasn't coming. This was going to fail before it had even begun, because Lucius Malfoy wouldn't - or couldn't - join into a circle of his enemies, not even to save his son's life.

Panic was starting to flow through to Hermione from Narcissa, and she desperately tried to steady them both.

Please, please, please, she found herself thinking, please, don't let this fail, please, please...

Esposito moved the inner circle, shifting them slightly so that Lucius had a clear view of Malfoy and Harry, and Hermione couldn't help the small gasp escaping her. They both looked so fragile. The lights and shadows from the wands flickered over their pale features as they slept on, oblivious to the world around them. Harry's glasses gone, his scar sharp against his forehead. Malfoy's lips slightly parted, his eyes deeply shadowed. He sighed, turned his face slightly towards Harry, drawn to him even at this late stage of their decline.

Hermione heard a deep breath from beside her, and a steady stream of light slowly arced from Lucius Malfoy across the circle, finally connecting to Ron's light.

"We are a circle," Esposito intoned calmly, "and we call upon ancient magic, magic of balance, of the harmony of the earth. We call upon ancient magic to right what is wrong, to bring balance to chaos."

"We call upon joy and upon sorrow," Dumbledore said, and Hermione closed her eyes again, thinking as hard she could about both, and was suddenly completely thrown off as a dizzying array of images came hurtling towards her.

Oh, this was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be, she thought with dismay. Somehow she had to keep her thoughts clear and make her own balance, think of some of her most joyous and most miserable memories. Like a Patronus, only twice as hard. And not think about the images that were leaking through the circle to her, most of them fragmentary and distractingly difficult to pin down.

That young man sadly watching Mandy Brocklehurst walk away from him, that had to be Neville, last year. And that cell in Azkaban - that had to be a memory from Lucius. But the small blond boy, laughing in delight as his father spun him around - was that Malfoy? And was it a memory from Malfoy himself, or from one of his parents?

And the Seeker in green and silver, holding a Quidditch Cup high - who was that? It certainly wasn't Draco or Lucius Malfoy, or any Slytherin Hermione knew; it looked like a girl, and the robes were of a very old design, straight from Hogwarts: A History.

A teenage boy lying on a bed, his room in squalor around him, disinterestedly chewing on something and dropping its wrapper onto the floor, an ache in his chest and the image of Sirius Black falling into a shimmering veil replaying in his mind over and over again - that was Harry, no question. Probably not a memory that he would've wanted to share with the rest of them, but Harry didn't have any control over what images his mind came up with right now, any more than he did during dreams.

And there was a small child, hiding where his father couldn't find him, because he wasn't supposed to be crying, because a Malfoy didn't cry over something as silly as having his pet kneazle Crucioed in front of him, especially if he deserved it, because he couldn't learn how to make the doors open and close using his magic, and a Malfoy was supposed to be good at this kind of thing-

That was probably nothing that any of the Malfoys had wanted anybody to see. Hermione tried to clear her thoughts, pushing her own images of joy and sorrow to the front of her mind, trying to see only them. The day Ron had first told her he loved her. The day she'd received a letter telling her that her grandmother was dead, and realized she hadn't seen her in years, because she'd been too busy with school and had left the Muggle world behind. Her own memories, vivid and real and balanced out.

"We call upon light and upon dark," Pomfrey said, the formal words sounding odd in her no-nonsense voice, and Hermione breathed in deeply, prepared for the onslaught of images from the others this time. A flash of light from Harry's wand as a shining stag-shaped Patronus sprang into being, and the darkness of the third-floor corridor during her first year; those were her memories. A brilliant sunlit sky over the lake, seen from a broom - that was probably Harry's. But whose image was that, of a small sallow-skinned boy hiding in a totally dark room, cold and hungry and afraid, listening to his parents scream at each other and not daring to emerge? And whose image was that, of tousled black hair next to almost-white, so close together? It was from the Gryffindor boys' dorm, and the memory itself was most probably Harry and Malfoy, sleeping, so it had to come from Neville or Ron, but she couldn't tell which one.

"We call upon male and upon female," Esposito intoned, and Hermione thought of her mother and father and sighed gratefully upon realizing that almost all the thoughts she was aware of were of people's parents. Although Snape's parents... what an unattractive couple. And the stunning black woman who closely resembled Blaise Zabini was... disturbing. Her image kept flickering between her face, and that of a black widow spider.

A particularly handsome young man in Quidditch robes, broom in hand, smiled indulgently and chucked a vivacious, adoring first year girl under the chin - and Hermione suppressed a hysterical giggle as she realized that the girl strongly resembled Professor McGonagall. McGonagall's first crush. Well. That was unexpected.

And there was Hermione herself, at the first Yule Ball she'd attended, with Viktor Krum - oh. That was Ron's memory. The first time, he'd admitted once, that he'd ever really noticed that she was a girl.

"We call upon past and upon future," Dumbledore said, and Hermione recalled one of her earliest memories, her parents swinging her between them on a beach, her tiny feet barely touching the waves. And she gulped at an image of Bellatrix Lestrange, young and coldly beautiful, sneering at a girl who looked a lot like Tonks. Narcissa's sister Andromeda, presumably. A pint-sized Draco pulled a mini-Pansy's hair, and Pansy waved a stick at him and yelled Crucio to no effect, then hit him with the stick, with somewhat more satisfying results. A serious young man talked to a teacher on a staircase, about Hogwarts closing and having no place else to go. Who was that? And whose memory was it?

The future - that was a little harder, but she opened her mind to whatever images chanced to come from the three members of their circle with any kind of precognitive powers. Blurry, confusing images. Laughter that sounded like Ron's, but somehow deeper. A hallway into a nursery, a dark-skinned child sleeping in a crib. A Quidditch field, quick flash of a smile that looked like Harry's, and eyes that looked oddly familiar, sparkling with humour and affection. A Dark Mark in the sky.

She shuddered, firmly keeping the link going, trying not to dwell on the fact that she could feel Narcissa recoiling from that Mark.

"We call upon pain and upon pleasure," said Pomfrey.

A purple flame from a Death Eater's wand passed across Hermione's chest, and she went down at the Department of Mysteries, pain splitting her open. Narcissa Malfoy groaned in pain, so vivid Hermione's eyes popped open - but Narcissa was still standing across the circle, eyes closed, face blank, her groans only a memory. Hermione closed her eyes again, hearing whispered encouragement from a birthing-witch, "The pain is good, there is powerful magic for women who have endured the pain of childbirth, there is power here for women, power that men can't even dream of..."

Then incredible pleasure as Narcissa held Draco for the first time.

Incredible pleasure as Neville first kissed Mandy Brocklehurst.

Two trembling boys in bloodstained shirts, hesitantly kissing for the first time in the sitting room next to Dumbledore's office, quickly becoming overwhelmed with each other, and Hermione wondered which one of them was remembering that one. And - oh. A somewhat more private moment, again one that neither one would ever want to broadcast to anybody, let alone a group that included parents and teachers, but there it was, and Hermione dazedly blocked out the sound of waves crashing on a shore as Draco drew Harry closer, encouraging him - oh, god, Hermione firmly turned her mind away with a wrench and tried instead to concentrate on something else, surely there was somebody with a more appropriate memory floating out there-

But not the one that slammed into her next with stunning force - two of them, actually, Dark Marks cutting and burning into flesh, shrieks of agony torn from two throats, and she dimly recognized a much younger Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, and shuddered to think that either could follow somebody who could do something like that to them-

And another scream as human flesh turned into fur, and bones cracked and stretched and fangs descended-

A different kind of scream, as Pansy Parkinson arched into the embrace of a boy who might have been Anthony Goldstein-

This was quickly spiralling out of control-

"We call upon heat and upon cold," came the rather bizarre intonation from Esposito, and Hermione gratefully recalled what they were doing as she thought of skiing with her parents in the Alps and then of a cup of hot cocoa.

How completely and utterly unreal. From Dark Marks and werewolf transformations and sex to hot cocoa. And Narcissa casually murmuring a cooling spell as she walked through the gardens of a lovely wizarding estate somewhere in India, if the vegetation and the somewhat old-fashioned saris of the witches around her were any indication. And then Narcissa shivering in a courtyard at Azkaban, waiting to be let in to see her husband.

And finally...

"We call upon love and upon hate," Dumbledore said, and Hermione tensed. They had debated whether to use this pair at all, given the volatility of the people who were going to be in the circle, but it was a powerful pairing, and... well... they needed power.

Love. Hermione could think of love easily. Love for her parents, and Ron, and Harry, and her grandmother, and Ginny, and all the Weasleys. And Narcissa of course thought of Draco, and of Lucius, and of people Hermione assumed were her parents. And with a spark of surprise, Hermione felt love from Pomfrey, for the scores and scores of children who had come to her with their aches and pains over the years...

... and a sea of freckles and red hair, well that was hardly a surprise...

... and... a glimpse of the future? Felt like it, anyway. A hard decision to be made, and a young man walked out of a classroom determinedly, pulled in two different directions by love, making his choice...

... and a little boy lived in a closet under the stairs, and felt the hatred and resentment of the people who were supposed to love him, felt the hatred and contempt of a huge boy who pushed and hit and bullied him, and hated them all right back, helpless hatred growing bitter and hard, crying his hatred into his pillow at night, not wanting to feel it but not knowing how to stop it...

... and another boy, gawky and serious, hated a pair of smiling, handsome boys who were just so smooth, so arrogant, the one with the glasses and the one with the rakish grin, his hatred choking him as he watched them laughing together on the lawn...

... and Harry hated Snape, hated him down to his bones, and the feeling was returned tenfold...

... and hatred boiled up, for Snape and for Voldemort, and Hermione knew that was from Ron, and the hatred touched all those who followed Voldemort, and Hermione gasped as Lucius Malfoy's face became the focus of Ron's hatred, for almost taking his sister from him back in second year - oh, god, Ron and Lucius were supposed to be paired in this circle, but now the hatred was being returned, from Lucius towards all Weasleys and blood traitors, and then hatred from Neville to Lucius and Narcissa and Draco, for being related to the woman who'd taken his parents from him, and then from Pansy to Neville for being weak, for being an embarrassment to all purebloods, from Pansy to Hermione for being a Mudblood bitch who hated and mistrusted her, and from Pansy to Harry, for what he was doing to Draco, and Hermione recognized with horror that her own hatred was being drawn out of her and towards Pansy and towards Draco, for hurting Harry, for - images spinning out of control, Harry hating Draco and Draco hating him right back, Harry for things Draco had said about Sirius, about Cedric Diggory, Draco for Harry putting his father into Azkaban, and the lines of light above them crackled and threatened to erupt, how could they have been so stupid, no matter how powerful the pairing of love and hate could be, they shouldn't have risked it, not with this group of people, it was too strong, which was precisely why they'd felt they had to use it but it wasn't controllable, as Harry and Draco hated each other for being tied together, suffocated by one another, reliving the fight in the Great Hall, a window shattering and blood pouring from them both, and Lucius hated Harry for what he was doing to his son, hated him enough to kill-

"NO!!" Frantic desperation battered at them all and Hermione recognized Ron's voice, grabbing hold of his hatred and reining it in, for Harry's sake. Quickly backed up by Esposito and Dumbledore and Pomfrey, pushing with him to rein in Lucius Malfoy's rage, for Draco's sake. And just like that, Snape was there too, and Pansy, and then one by one the rest of them were falling in, bringing each other back to the circle, until finally they were all concentrated on Draco and Harry, the two members of the circle with the most reason to hate and the least control over what they were feeling. Hermione pushed away their images of anger and resentment and their desperate desire to get away from one another, replacing them with the images she'd seen in the circle and in the last few weeks, gasping with relief as the memories came flooding in from all sides: Draco and Harry asleep in the Gryffindor boys' dorm; kissing in Dumbledore's office; flying together above the lake; together in their bedroom; Draco kneeling and holding on to Harry in the corridor outside the Potions classroom...

And slowly the crackling lines of magic were dying down, becoming smooth and clear again.

Esposito took a deep breath, and they all gathered themselves, preparing to end the spell.

"I release you, Lucius Malfoy, from the circle," Esposito said quietly, and the light from Lucius' wand slowly died down as he lowered it, breathless and panting, sitting down heavily into the nearest chair and closing his eyes.

"I release you, Remus Lupin, from the circle," she said, and Lupin slowly lowered his wand, his arms trembling. As did Snape and Neville in their turn, Neville leaning against the wall and putting his head back while Snape walked to the window and rested his forehead against it, staring blankly out at the Quidditch pitch.

"I release you, Narcissa Malfoy, from the circle," said Esposito, and Hermione felt her bond to Narcissa shimmer and disappear as the rest of the members of the circle were freed one by one, all of them shaking with the after-effects of the spell, trying to regain their strength. She breathed a sigh of relief as she was finally released and almost fell into Ron's arms, his heartbeat still racing but his arms warm and steady around her.

And then there was nothing more to do. Except wait and see whether or not the spell had worked.