Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Chapter Twenty

Reservations

The [Romanian] Longhorn has dark-green scales and long, glittering golden horns with which
it gores its prey before roasting it. When powdered, these horns are highly valued as potion
ingredients. The native territory of the Longhorn has now become the world's most important
dragon reservation, where wizards of all nationalities study a variety of dragons at close range....
The Swedish Short-Snout is an attractive silvery-blue dragon whose skin is sought after for
the manufacture of protective gloves and shields. The flame that issues from its notrils is
a brilliant blue and can reduce timber and bone to ash in a matter of seconds. The Short-Snout
has fewer human killings to its name than most dragons, though as it prefers to live in wild and
uninhabited mountainous areas, this is not much to its credit.

--Newt Scamander, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

"What do you mean, gone?" Sirius said, incredulous.

"Gone," Charlie answered, his voice going up in pitch excitedly. "Not a single Swedish Short Snout anywhere. The reservation isn't that far away, either. After two-hundred miles, it's the last thing we were supposed to go through before the finish line. But--no dragons."

Hermione noticed Ron looking about anxiously. "What is it?" she wanted to know.

Ron frowned. "It's a bit hard to make out, with all the noise, but I thought I heard an official say they're going to ask some of us to go back to the reservation, take a look around. They're getting some doctors and nurses to go, too." Harry knew that Ron's sharp hearing was picking up on things the rest of them were missing. Ron nodded to Charlie.

"I'm game if you are," Ron said to his brother. "I'd like to bloody well know where those dragons are. Because if they aren't on the reservation--"

Charlie nodded; he looked very serious, his jaw clenched tightly. Harry felt a lump in his throat. Reservations were to protect dragons from poachers (the herd was periodically thinned, and one could only buy officially-approved dragon-related products resulting from the thinning) and protect humans from dragons.

"So, I'm volunteering," Ron said, his mind clearly made up. "You, Charlie?"

"Definitely. It seems unlikely, but I hope they didn't just wander off...."

"You're thinking about the dragons?" Hermione squealed excitedly. "What about humans? Those dragons could be anywhere, wreaking havoc on a village--"

"There, there, Hermione," Ron said, putting his arm around her and trying to calm her. "Charlie knows dragons and he knows dragon-poachers. Dangerous work, but possible. One summer, years ago, they lost over a fourth of the herd on his reservation to poachers who made off with them one at a time, in the middle of the night. It does happen."

"The other question is--where are the witches and wizards who work on the reservation?" Charlie said, as though realizing that he sounded more worried about the dragons than he should. "There's a huge staff, and if even one of the dragons had suddenly gone missing, someone would have said something."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. He hadn't realized that the reservation would have humans living there, but when he thought about it, it made sense. Charlie had worked for years on a reservation in Romania, after all.

After kissing Hermione again, Ron went off after Charlie to volunteer. They all watched silently this time as the cloud of flyers rose as one and charged south toward the snowy mountains. Harry felt restless; he wished he'd already registered as an Animagus. He was itching to transfigure, spread his wings and fly south with Ron, Charlie and the others.

Sirius didn't know this when he sighed and looked at their grave faces. "Perhaps we should get a bite to eat. I have a feeling this may take a while." Harry didn't know how he would keep from jumping out of his skin while he waited. I knew there was a reason to bring my own broom, even though I wasn't racing.

They returned to the restaurant where they'd had lunch; while waiting for their food, Hermione went to find a bathroom, and Sirius spotted some people he recognized and went to talk to them, to find out whether they knew more about the missing dragons.

Harry stared around the room, trying not to meet Draco Malfoy's eyes across the table; they hadn't been alone since Boxing Day. Every time he saw Draco he felt dreadfully guilty about the times he'd been alone with Ginny, although she was no longer Draco's girlfriend and wasn't cheating on him. (Harry hadn't felt as guilty when she was Draco's girlfriend and he was kissing her at the top of the Astronomy Tower.)

"So," Draco started to say awkwardly, drumming his fork on the table noisily. "A bit odd, this?" Harry nodded mutely. There was only about a minute of awkward silence, but it seemed to be much more than that. Harry hadn't expected them to be immediate good friends again yet, but he also hadn't expected there to be these extended silences. At length, sounding desperate, Draco said, "Expectations. It's always disturbing when you have certain expectations and they're not met. Know what I mean? You fly over a dragon reservation and you expect there to be dragons. You walk into a room in a pub and expect to find Harry Potter in bed with a naked girl...." Harry stuck his tongue out at him, but felt himself starting to smile in spite of himself. "....or you snoop around in a Muggle house and expect to find old Muggle photos, not wizarding ones...."

"What?" Harry said. "Are you speaking hypothetically now, or did this happen to you?"

Draco shrugged, starting to arrange the silverware in geometric patterns on the table. "Yeah, it happened to me. You never know when a family's going to have a Muggle-born witch or wizard. Probably loads of Muggle houses have some wizarding photos stuffed away somewhere. I found them in a shoe box inside a suitcase that was stuffed under a bed, with a lot of other dusty things. It wasn't exactly framed and on the mantel, was it?"

Harry raised his brows. "Some thorough snooping you were doing there."

"I was especially bored. We were in her parents' bedroom. They were out for the day and Felice had gone to change into some stupid nightie or something she said she bought for me to see. What was the point? She was going to be out of it in a minute anyway."

Harry grasped the edge of the table. "Felice? This was in New Stokington? I thought maybe it was at the Galbraiths', where we were working after fifth year. You know--Bobbie and Terry's place."

"You thought I was shagging Bobbie Galbraith?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Did I say I thought you were shagging Mrs. Galbraith? God. Sometimes you remind me of--you."

Draco laughed for a moment. "I think I know what you mean." He shrugged. "Bobbie wasn't bad looking, I'll give you that, but she needed to learn how to dress. And she was a bit old. And married. Say what you will about me, I don't think I'd go after a married woman. Probably. Anyway, if she hadn't been married and old, I reckon that her taste in clothes wouldn't matter if we were more concerned with her being undressed," he said, smirking and looking at the nearest waitress with a lascivious half-smile.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Focus," he said simply. Draco shook himself, tearing his eyes away from the waitress' bottom.

"Erm, yeah, it was in New Stokington, at Felice's place. So?"

"So? Did you bloody tell anyone? Was this after my birthday?"

"Yeah. Somewhere around mid-August. Anyway, who was I supposed to tell?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said sarcastically. "Sam. Or Aberforth, your boss. Or Katie, who was going to start Auror training. Perhaps Mrs. Figg, with whom you were living!. Someone who would know whether it was a reason to panic. You saw all of them every day!"

"Sod that. Apart from the fact that technically I was cheating on Ginny and Mariah, I was supposed to be doing my job. I was supposed to confess to any of those people what I was doing? Was it my fault she wanted me so badly?" he said with a smirk.

"No, probably not." It was Draco's turn to stick out his tongue. "If you found wizarding photos, did it ever occur to you that Felice might not be a Muggle? That she might be a witch? And that she might have an ulterior motive for shagging you?"

"Er, no, it didn't," he said quietly, biting his lip.

"God, you're stupid!" Harry wasn't feeling much like being friendly at the moment. "She could have been a Death Eater for all you know. You're not exactly popular with them. How did she react to seeing your Dark Mark? She could have put a spell on you, or given you a time-release potion. All kinds of things. You didn't know anything about her, did you?"

"Erm, no," he admitted, reddening.

"You just saw an opportunity, and that's all you cared about! You really need to be more careful where you put your--"

"Granger!" Draco interrupted suddenly.

"What?" Harry squeaked. Then he realized that Hermione was standing at his elbow. Harry swore to himself. He wished he had been able to bring Sandy on the trip, but he wouldn't have been able to Apparate with her, so he'd left her in Ginny's care. He didn't know for certain that Sandy would have warned him about Hermione's approach, but she'd done similar things many times before. He felt like his heart was beating very fast.

"He needs to be more careful where he puts his what, Harry?" she asked guilelessly.

"Erm--his gloves. Can't be too careful. It's cold up here; can't afford to lose them." Draco rolled his eyes; while Hermione wasn't looking, he mouthed Gloves? at Harry.

Hermione frowned, not noticing Draco, as she was looking at Harry. "I don't have gloves. I always lose them. Now that I'm of age, I just put a warming spell on my pockets and put my hands in when they're cold. It's lovely. Why are you bothering with gloves?" she said, turning back to Draco, his mouth was opening and closing like a fish's.

But then Harry was saved by the waitress arriving with their food, and Hermione went to fetch Sirius back to their table. They ate in silence, no one wanting to voice their worries about the missing dragons.

After the meal, Harry watched Draco go to the loo; when he was out of earshot, Harry leaned over the table and said to his godfather, "I need to talk to you."

Sirius saw that Harry's eyes were still following Draco. "About Draco, I presume?"

"Yes. He told me that when he was working at that estate in New Stokington this last summer, he found wizarding photos under a bed."

Sirius frowned. "I thought you did gardening. Why was he looking under beds?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, feeling his face grow a bit warm. "He was shagging the daughter. They were in the bedroom for that, but she'd gone to change into something, and he was bored and went snooping around."

Hermione drew her lips into a line. "Why that little...."

"Not now, Hermione," Sirius said abruptly. "The important thing right now is to know why there were wizarding photos in a Muggle house where wizard gardeners just happened to be working. What were they photos of?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't know. Listen, I'd stand a better chance of getting somewhere with questions about this if I could be honest about something else..."

"No," Sirius said quickly, knowing what Harry wanted to do.

"But Sirius--"

"No."

"But--"

"No." Sirius' jaw was set. "Please don't defy me on this Harry. Stop asking."

Harry sat back, crossing his arms, feeling a bit like a chastised five year old. "All right, then. If you're going to be that way, I think I have a right to demand a satisfactory explanation, which I have yet to hear. You say 'no.' I say why bloody not?"

Sirius took a bite of his steak, chewed and swallowed. Harry clenched his fork tightly, his knuckles turning white while he reluctantly waited for an answer. While he was cutting another bite of meat Sirius said, "I've had the opportunity to get to know Draco better since I came to Hogwarts to teach, Harry. And on this trip as well. And you know what? I like him." Hermione made a face; Sirius laughed for a moment and patted her hand. "No one said you have to, Hermione. But I can see why Sam Bell likes him, and Aberforth as well. Remember, Harry--they're his friends too, not just yours. He reminds me of me, when I was that age. And yes, I was a prat. But you like me now, don't you? And keep in mind that my feelings will be hurt if you take too long to answer...."

Harry smiled. "Yes, I like you. All right, so you like Draco, and so do Sam and Aberforth. And--?"

Sirius put his utensils down. "And I don't want him to know about you and Ginny."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because--?"

"It's as much to protect him as to protect the pair of you. I mean, honestly--if Voldemort managed to get his hands on Draco and ordered him to say whether you have a girlfriend and to identify her, do you think Draco would just shrug and tell him? Or do you think--"

"--he'd refuse, and by refusing die--" Harry whispered.

Sirius put a piece of meat in his mouth and then said, "Right," around the food, before chewing and swallowing. "If he doesn't know, then he can't say one way or the other and he can't die by refusing to tell. Do you see? If you tell Draco, you're putting him in a very dangerous position. He doesn't want Ginny endangered. I think we all agree on that." Harry nodded; Hermione reluctantly did the same. "If he knew about the two of you, it would be rather like--"

"--like making him their Secret Keeper against his will," Hermione finished quietly, looking at Sirius with a very grave expression in her dark eyes. "That's why Harry's parents agreed to have the Secret Keeper changed to Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it? They were afraid you'd literally take the secret to your grave. That you'd die before giving them up. They were worried about you."

Sirius grimaced. "I went back and forth on it. First it was my idea to switch, then I changed my mind....In the end, Lily pleaded with me and I finally agreed. We all felt that I would be such an obvious target that making me the Secret Keeper would have the opposite effect of keeping them safe--or me. Peter, on the other hand, said he could go off and live in his rat form somewhere unobtrusive. No one would be able to find him even if they knew he was the Secret Keeper. It should have been the perfect plan.

"Of course, as I already knew where the house at Godric's Hollow was, I needed to forget. A memory charm. It was a very strong one, and it's possible that if a Death Eater tried to negate it, I would have had permanent brain damage. But they'd still be safe. What I didn't know at the time was that Lily had used a very specific spell on me; if she, James or Peter died, my memories would be restored to me. That's how I knew something had happened. I was out on a date that night when suddenly these memories came roaring into my head. I remembered the first time I'd gone to Godric's Hollow, I remembered the last time, all of it. And the moment these things started dancing around in my mind, I knew there were a limited number of possible reasons for it. I knew I had to go to Wales, to find out what had happened.

"My date wasn't thrilled, but she let me go. I took my motorcycle, since I didn't want to leave it in Hertfordshire, where we were having dinner. I wish I'd Apparated, so I could have been there sooner. Of course, when I arrived at the house, I knew Peter had betrayed them...." He covered his face with his hand, then ran his fingers through his hair. "I wished then that I had been the Secret Keeper, and I felt like I'd killed your mum and dad with my bare hands. The problem with Draco knowing what you want him to know is that if he does the right thing, he'll probably die, and if he doesn't, then it could be you or Ginny, or both. What he doesn't know he can't tell, and he can't refuse to tell, either. That's all there is to it."

Harry slammed the table with his hand. "That sodding charm! That's why my mum wanted to kill Ron, so that I couldn't refuse a direct order from Voldemort to do it. If he was already dead, the order and my response to it would be null and void."

Sirius nodded, cutting another piece of meat. "Right. Now, are you going to eat or not?"

Harry began to pick at his potatoes in a desultory fashion. "I reckon. I hadn't thought about putting Draco in danger by telling him..."

"Well, now you're thinking about it. And while telling him might ease your conscience, Harry, it could cost lives. His, yours, Ginny's. Or all three of you could be at risk. Is it really worth it, just to feel a little less guilty? How guilty would you feel if someone died over your wanting to get this off your chest to Draco?"

Harry grimaced. "Did my mum give you lessons in how to induce guilt, years ago? Because you're very good."

Sirius smiled ruefully. "All mums teach that, Harry. It's required in their by-laws." He grinned, then took another bite, chewing it slowly and watching his godson. Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked sympathetic, but seemed to agree with Sirius.

Draco appeared at his elbow suddenly, making Harry miss Sandy again; he sat and started to attack his food, looking ravenous. Harry nodded almost imperceptibly at Sirius and Hermione and bent over his own meal, more worried than ever that he might say or do something stupid to give away his and Ginny's relationship--and now he had to worry about Draco dying if he did that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Charlie and Ron returned several hours later, with the others, they were waiting for them at the race's finish line. Ron immediately enfolded Hermione in his arms when he saw her, and then he unexpectedly gave Harry a crushing hug as well. When he stepped back from Harry, he could see that Ron had been crying, which surprised Harry. But Charlie looked like he was really the one who'd been put through the wringer.

"Dead," Charlie said briefly, his voice barely audible. "All of them--dead." Sirius put his hand on his shoulder. Hermione choked out a soft cry and put her arms around him and he held her, shaking, his face buried in her hair. Harry knew that Charlie had known some of the dragon handlers. He looked at Ron's face; his best friend had never had quite that particular haunted expression in his eyes before, even when he had almost killed Parvati and wanted to die himself. Harry glanced at Draco Malfoy; even he looked very concerned about Charlie and Ron's reactions.

"The smell," Ron said softly to Harry, looking like his gorge was rising. Harry knew it was probably bad for the others who'd gone back to investigate; for Ron it probably bordered on hell, with his wolf senses.

"Do you need to spew?" Harry asked him quietly. Ron put his hand to his mouth and shook his head; Harry wasn't sure he believed him.

"Already did that," Ron whispered from behind his hand, without shame.

They walked back to the village, to the inn where Sirius had booked rooms for them for the night. "All right, now Charlie and I will be in this one," he said, in the corridor outside their rooms. "Harry, you and Ron and Draco are next door and Hermione, you have the next one over. Let's all get some sleep; in the morning we're getting an early Portkey."

Sirius put his hand on Charlie's back and led him to their room; Harry wondered whether Charlie would really sleep. He wasn't surprised when Hermione followed them into their room instead of going to her own. Harry and Draco each sat on one of the beds and Ron sank into an armchair; Hermione crawled into his lap and put her head on his chest. He rested his cheek on her hair and abruptly began to talk, the words spilling out of him.

Harry wasn't sure how long Ron talked. It hadn't been easy for them to get into the buildings where the humans lived; there were hidden underground entrances, and tunnels connecting the various structures, to give the dragons the impression most of the time that they were living in an area with no human inhabitants. The family members of the dragon handlers rarely went above ground, where they risked being immediately burnt to a crisp. Even the handlers usually cast their spells from magical protective cover, seldom exposing themselves to any of the dragons directly. This was no longer a danger; the entire herd was gone. Fourteen cows and eight bulls, plus six calves. There were also three nests with five eggs, all of which were gone. The four dozen handlers who worked on the reservation, and their families, were all dead: men, women and children. Even pets were dead (cats, dogs and post owls). They weren't dead from the killing curse, either. They'd been slaughtered. It was messy. It still looked magical, as though blade spells had been used for the attacks. Cleaner than the most finely honed knives, the spells had ripped through the bodies like they were soft butter. Since everyone was usually inside, the racers, flying far overhead, had no inkling of what had occurred. They would have had to descend to the reservation and risk being attacked by the dragons in order to enter the human accommodations. Outsiders seldom visited; Portkeys were usually used for anyone who couldn't Apparate, so that the dragons couldn't see people coming and going.

In the main administrative office, they found it. The letter taking credit for the massacre. "Voldemort," Harry whispered. Ron no longer flinched at the name; Draco did.

"Voldemort," Ron said, echoing Harry, who fought the urge to smile. Ron would never go back to saying 'You-Know-Who.' "Or rather," he amended, "Death Eaters. The killings were recent, which is why no one knew anything was wrong. The staff were held prisoner for weeks, while the dragons were spirited away. Then, a couple of days before the race, they slaughtered the people. Death Eaters continued to maintain contact with the outside world, pretending to be staff when they spoke with the Swedish Ministry about everything being ready for the race. No one knew anything was wrong because everything seemed normal. Evidently, the head handler had told the Ministry to suspend all post to the reservation two days before the race, so the owls wouldn't agitate the dragons. It wasn't really the head handler, of course, but a Death Eater...."

Harry watched Ron as he spoke; he didn't think Ron was going to be sleeping any time soon. When he had talked himself out, Hermione kissed his cheek and whispered to him. She stood and laced his fingers through his. She looked at Harry for just a moment before they left. Harry nodded to her. Draco Malfoy looked grumpy as he watched them leave.

After the door had closed, he said, "Well, I'd have gone to have a look-see at the reservation if I'd known I'd get to shag Granger after...."

"Shut up," Harry said quickly, irritated that Draco was being so crass; he was also more than a little worried that Ron could hear him quite well. "You don't know what they're going to do. He needs her to be there for him right now. That might mean anything."

Draco smirked. "Like you needed her the night before your cousin's funeral."

Harry tried not to think back to that night, being in the bed with her, in the shower, the nightmares he'd been trying to beat back....

"Shut up, wanker," Harry said, trying to be harsher. "Even if they do--she's his girlfriend, and there's no moon. Safest time of month. Mind your own business and go to bed."

He laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying not to see the images Ron had described, and feeling very tempted to spill his secret to Draco. When he behaved like this, it was very hard to want to keep Draco safe. I can rub his nose in the fact that Ginny wants to be with me after all, and I can put him in danger. It was hard to see bad in either thing.

When some time had passed and Harry still didn't hear snoring, he turned to see Draco in the other bed, also staring sleeplessly at the ceiling. Harry suspected the tactlessness had been to avoid admitting that he was affected by what Ron had said. Harry looked back at his portion of ceiling. He had a long night of staring ahead of him. Best to get started.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was very strange to be back at Hogwarts. Some of his normal activities took on new significance for Harry. Now that he and Hermione weren't going to Apparition lessons, they rescheduled Elven Army training sessions for those times. This was no problem for Ron, now Major Weasley, since he'd never been going to Apparition. (Harry promoted him from lieutenant at the start of their seventh year, so his rank was on a par with Hermione's; she thought she should have been promoted to colonel.)

More than two weeks into the new term, Harry stood at the front of the Great Hall, where they were training the elves, the tables pushed to the walls. The small figures stood at attention, stretched out before him, rank upon rank, large shining eyes in small, wrinkled faces all focused on him. He barked orders, had them spar with each other and with him, Ron and Hermione. But in a way, he wasn't really present. He was in the room on the reservation that Ron had described, where they'd found all of the children rounded up and slaughtered....

"They didn't even have the comfort of their parents, at the end...." Ron had said when describing what they'd found, silent tears running down his cheeks while Hermione covered her mouth in horror and buried her face in his neck.

The elves were ready to fight in the war, Harry thought, but how will we know where to send them? Who knew that there was a battle to be fought on the dragon reservation south of Arjeplog? To fight in a battle, you have to know about it. If only one side shows up, that's not a battle. It's a massacre.

When training was over, Harry dismissed the elves. Dobby, at the head of a column, saluted smartly. Harry smiled at him as he saluted back. "Dismissed, Lieutenant Dobby."

"Thank you, General Harry Potter, sir!"

"You can just call me General Potter, Dobby," Harry said, still smiling. "During training." Harry was going to tell him that he could just call him "Harry" the rest of the time, but Dobby was still in the habit of calling him by his full name. Harry decided against suggesting he use just his first name; Dobby might think he was criticizing.

Ron walked over to Harry, smirking. "I see. You promoted me so you could promote Dobby to lieutenant. Afraid I'd be insulted to have the same rank as an elf?" Harry looked at him with one eyebrow raised and Ron laughed. "Yeah, you'd be right."

He was rather amazed with Ron, who turned out to work quite well with the elves. He'd been somewhat awkward when he'd started the year before. When they'd been sparring earlier, five elves against Ron, Harry had seen him purposefully let his guard down, although he had the fastest reflexes, and allow the elves to overcome him. After Zenana had revived him, the five elves still sat on his chest and extremities, and Ron was laughing and saying, "Geroff," good-naturedly, ruffling the hair on a young elf, patting another on the back and saying, "Good job, that." Harry could tell the elves liked him, too. Hermione smiled benevolently on them all, and Harry could see that Ron would probably receive a reward from her later for his friendly interplay with the elves.

When they were using magic to move the tables back, Harry saw a piece of parchment fall out of Ron's robe pocket and he scooped it up; after glancing at it briefly, he put it in his pocket. Harry tried to hid his shock. He'd almost forgotten about the letter Ron wrote while he was at Ascog, thinking that it was a one-off, rather than part of a regular correspondence. Ron didn't notice that he'd picked up the parchment. Harry eyed him suspiciously; he'd just been behaving perfectly naturally with the elves, and hugging Hermione affectionately, and yet he was also walking around with this in his pocket. Harry was torn between being upset with Ron or mystified by him.

Having the rest of the afternoon free, they went up to the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione diligently sat down at a table with her N.E.W.T. text, setting a good example. Harry and Ron, however, decided to play Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus. Hermione had to tell them repeatedly to quiet down as they were soon roaring with laughter, even while wincing and sucking on burnt fingers. Harry looked at Ron as they played; he seemed perfectly carefree. Harry didn't know what to make of it.

Before dinner, Ron said to Harry and Hermione, "You go on. There's something I want to put in the dorm, so I don't lose it. Forgot to do it earlier."

Harry swallowed when he saw that Ron was putting his hand in his robe pocket, and when it emerged empty, and Ron looked panicked, Harry stepped quickly toward him, whispering, "I know where it is. Let's go upstairs and talk."

Ron looked angrily at him; Harry was taken aback by the open hostility. Hermione was oblivious, already turning toward the portrait hole. "All right. See you downstairs," she said, unconcerned. When they were in the dorm, Ron whirled on Harry.

"Hand it over," he said tersely. Harry did as he was asked. Ron whipped it out of Harry's hand, then turned to his trunk, opened it and rummaged in the bottom. When he seemed satisfied about its hiding place, he slammed the lid shut and turned to face Harry, who was watching Ron with his arms crossed.

"Care to tell me why you're getting a letter from her, Ron?"

Ron also crossed his arms and glared back at Harry. "No, I don't. Care to tell me when I gave you permission to read my mail?"

"Hermione's my best friend. If she's going to be crying on me because you've broken her heart, I think I deserve fair warning."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Break her heart?" Then he looked shrewdly at Harry. "So--you didn't actually read it?"

"No. I just know who sent it. And I know that you wrote to her when you were at Ascog, during the holiday."

Ron's mouth was open even wider now; he abruptly shut it and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Been keeping that to yourself for a while, have you? This has nothing to do with Hermione. I'm not cheating on her and I have no intention of doing so."

"So why--"

Ron threw up his hands. "I had to have someone to talk to in hospital. The other patients on my ward were all barmy. I know, I was too. That's why I was there. But trust me--I was a paragon of stability compared to most of them. And everything I said to Dr. Bastion was picked apart into a million pieces for 'significance.' It was a relief to talk to someone who wasn't insane, brain-damaged or analyzing me."

Harry smirked. "But her? I mean--after what we saw in your Omnioculars--"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But we saw that after I came back. I didn't know when I was in hospital. And when I saw her in Sweden--"

"Wait!" Harry said, shaking himself, feeling as though he'd just woken up. "You saw Nita in Sweden? Why didn't you say anything?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Harry, I am not cheating on Hermione with Nita Anderssen. God. She's--what? Ten years older than me?"

Harry shrugged. "That might not be an impediment to her. And you like blondes."

Ron grimaced. "I liked a blonde, and I think it's fair to say that was just because Fleur was part-veela. I'm actually rather partial to dark-haired girls. One in particular, as you know. And remember--Parvati has dark hair, too. Much as she tried, Annika never got so much as a snog from me. So there goes that brilliant theory, General Potter."

Harry drew his lips into a line. "You still haven't explained all this. How can you be friends with Nita Anderssen after Narcissa Malfoy wrote that article about you? And doesn't she hate Weasleys, anyway?"

Ron sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "You don't understand, Harry. First, she was a very good listener when I was in St. Mungo's, and she didn't seem to hold against me that I was a Weasley. In fact, she seemed concerned that the family might abandon me because I'm a werewolf. You don't know what I had to go through to convince her that they wouldn't, even though I had doubts myself at first. Perhaps having to defend my family did me good; I had to believe what I was saying before I could convince her. And for your information, I spent a lot of time singing Hermione's praises to her. Traditionally, that isn't a good way to woo an older mistress, is it?"

Harry grunted a reluctant agreement to this. "But you didn't say anything about running into her in Sweden."

Ron looked down at his hands and sat heavily on his trunk. "We didn't really meet up under the best of circumstances. Since her mum is the organizer of the race, she wanted Nita to go as one of the investigating doctors, when we went back to the reservation. Nita didn't want to, at first, as she'd been going out of her head trying to convince her mum not to resign her post in disgrace. She was worried that if she went, when she returned she'd find her mum had given up her job. Finally, when her mum promised not to make any rash decisions until after Nita returned, she agreed to go. We were with a racer from Italy when we found the children." Harry could see that Ron's eyes were wet. "She said that she'd never cried before while doing anything that was connected with medicine. That was the first time...." he choked. "She's really not too bad. She's definitely opinionated. We talked a bit about Malfoy's dad...." He looked very grim then and pressed his mouth closed.

"What?" Harry said, wondering what they'd discussed.

"Never mind. Anyway, she told me in Sweden that she was on the outs with her aunt. I confronted her, told her I knew her beloved Aunt Cissy was Daisy Furuncle. I didn't tell her how I knew. She was surprised. She said that she was really hacked off at Malfoy's mum because she'd written that article about me. They weren't talking."

Harry peered at Ron; there was something he wasn't saying. "So you're corresponding with Nita Anderssen now, Draco Malfoy's cousin, but there's nothing going on?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. Hermione's your friend, but do I assume that every time I'm out of the room the pair of you are shagging? I do think that a man and a woman can be friends without it having to involve sex. I thought you did, too." He raised one eyebrow. "Or should I worry about you and Hermione--?"

Harry swallowed, looking away from Ron. He remembered the night on the hearth rug, while Ron was in St. Mungo's. "Of course not," he said quickly. "Besides, I love Ginny."

Ron nodded. "All right then. Let's drop this."

They started toward the door. Harry said, "But why haven't you told Hermione?"

Ron looked levelly at him. "What makes you think I haven't?"

His best friend turned and moved swiftly down the stairs. Harry followed him, thinking about what Ron had said and wondering still about his friendship with Nita Anderssen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry watched Ron and Hermione as they ate breakfast. Ron passed Hermione a plate of bacon and she took one rasher only, while she passed a bowl of berries to him, so he could spoon them into his porridge. They seemed to have reached a level of silent symbiosis where they didn't always need to speak. It wasn't a hostile silence but one punctuated by sly looks and affectionate smiles. And just because he was her boyfriend, Hermione didn't let up on nagging Ron about his schoolwork. Ron said that he reckoned he'd know she'd been replaced by someone taking Polyjuice Potion if she ever did stop.

Harry glanced at Ginny as she ate, missing her so dreadfully, but they hadn't dared spend any time together since returning to school. There were just too many people around. Sometimes when they were at Dueling Club meetings, while they were waiting for others to duel, they would share a look across the room, or they might do the same in the Gryffindor common room if no one else was about apart from Ron, Hermione and Neville. He sighed and took a bite of his toast, chewing glumly.

The post owls soared in through the clerestory windows; it was a welcome distraction. Hedwig brought Harry a note from Hagrid, asking him, Ron and Hermione to tea. Harry was glad; he missed Hagrid, whom he'd only been able to see during Care of Magical Creatures classes when he'd been training as a professional Quidditch player, and when he had Apparition classes in addition to Elven Army training, Dueling Club and prefects' meetings. Now that he wasn't training on the Welsh team (although practices would start again in the spring) and he had his Apparition license, he'd have more free time.

Hermione had received some more newspapers from her parents; she frowned over the Times. "Alicia's dad's trial begins next month," she said. "The barrister Sirius hired for him asked for plenty of time to prepare, but it still doesn't look good. He can't produce any witnesses to bolster his alibi, and all of the forensic evidence is against him, plus, they have him committing the crimes on film. Security cameras."

Harry and Ron digested the depressing news. Other students were reading their letters, opening packages from parents and otherwise chattering happily. For most of them, the war hadn't really intruded on their lives yet. But then Harry noticed that Gabrielle Delacour had received a post-owl; she sat near Will Flitwick and Jamaica Thomas. Harry thought Jamaica was asking her politely about her letter. Gabrielle gave her a sad smile.

"Eet is from my seestair's midwife. I am an aunt. My seestair has had her baybay."

Hermione heard this and leaned forward. "Congratulations, Gabrielle. Boy or girl?"

Gabrielle looked down at the letter. "Eet eez a boy. Ze midwife says zat eef I have a difficulty wiz pairmission to see my seestair and nephew, she weel talk to Professor Dumbledore for me."

Harry looked at the head table; Dumbledore's seat was empty. "Professor Dumbledore isn't here right now, but I'm sure Professor McGonagall will let you go. And she's your head of house. Professor Dumbledore would probably just defer to her anyway."

Gabrielle smiled at him; he was glad to see that she didn't seem to be upset with him anymore. "Would you go wiz me?"

Hermione smiled warmly at her. "We both will. With the Head Boy and Head Girl, how can you lose?"

The three of them crossed the hall to the head table and approached Professor McGonagall, in her customary place, next to Dumbledore's empty seat. After explaining the situation to her, she nodded and said, "The previous visit to your sister was without incident. I believe that Remus Lupin is not available to accompany you at the moment, however." She turned to Sirius, beside her. "Professor Black, do you have room in your schedule to accompany Miss Delacour and our Head Boy and Girl to St. Mungo's?"

Harry started to object, not feeling the need to see Fleur again. She'd been very queer toward him. Hermione trod on his foot, making him bite his tongue before treating Professor McGonagall to an impromptu tour of his vocabulary of swear words.

"Yes, Professor," Sirius answered with a nod. "I think I can manage that."

"Thank you, Professor," McGonagall said. Harry was trying not to laugh now; he wondered now whether, in the staff room, the teachers were constantly saying, "But Professor, I find that I must disagree..." and "Disagree? How can you say that, Professor?" followed by, "Because, Professor, I recently read a journal article...."

"Harry, wake up," Hermione hissed, putting her elbow in his ribs. He winced. She was being very annoying today.

"I'm here. Don't put me in hospital, please," he answered, rubbing his side as they walked back to the Gryffindor table with Gabrielle.

"In case you weren't paying attention, as we have no first lesson today, and Gabrielle's first lesson is with Professor McGonagall, she's being permitted to go right after breakfast, so we'll go down to Hogsmeade after eating and Floo to St. Mungo's."

Harry vaguely remembered now hearing McGonagall saying something about Gabrielle being an excellent Transfiguration student, but he hadn't really heard much else while his mind had been wandering. "Of course I heard all that," he lied. "I wasn't originally expecting to be going out so early, though. We should go get our cloaks." However, when he, Hermione and Gabrielle returned to the entrance hall to meet Sirius, they found him waiting with Alicia, who was also wearing a heavy winter cloak.

"Alicia's coming," Sirius said brightly, making Harry and Hermione exchange a worried look. They didn't say a word, though. Harry watched Gabrielle as the five of them walked to Hogsmeade, a light dusting of snow on the road crunching under their boots. Did she know who Alicia was? he wondered. Did she know who the father of her nephew was?

Harry was used to the security procedures at St. Mungo's by now; he hardly noticed anymore. When they were walking down the high stone corridors, passing the doctors and nurses going about their business, that worried him for a moment, but then he noticed that they weren't going toward the ward where Ron and Fleur had been. They'd climbed some broad marble steps and were proceeding down an unfamiliar corridor. He soon learned why: Fleur was now with the other new mothers and their babies.

Sirius stopped a nurse in the corridor, to check that they were going in the right direction; they had to turn around and retrace their steps slightly. Finally finding the place, they heard the distinct sharp noise of a baby crying as a nurse showed them to Fleur's room. It was as bare and austere as Ron's hospital room had been. When they entered, a young nurse was carrying a small bundle in her arms, rocking it and cooing to it while the wails continued. She frowned when she saw five people preparing to enter.

" 'Oo are you, then? 'Ere I am, tryin' to convince this foreign piece o' baggage to feed 'er own child, and now I got a bleedin' audience...."

Harry saw Hermione put her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders when the young girl bristled at this comment; Harry wondered whether the nurse knew what a very bad idea it was to anger someone who was part-veela. Hermione's fingers looked like they were gripping Gabrielle very tightly, and he saw her give Fleur's little sister a tight-lipped shake of the head.

Harry looked at Fleur; she was much thinner than when he'd seen her last, with good reason, but just as odd and detached from the world. She sat in a chair near the window, staring unblinkingly at the blank, white winter sky. They all winced as the baby let loose a cry that took the noise up a notch; Fleur seemed not to notice at all.

Alicia stepped forward. "I'm married to the baby's father, if you must know. Here, let me try to do something with him...."

The nurse looked at Alicia uncertainly for a moment, then handed the baby to her. Alicia carried the crying, red-faced baby to the bed and sat on the edge. She held out her hand to the nurse and said, "Hand me your wand. They took ours." The nurse hesitated, as there was a good reason why visitors' wands were confiscated. However, she seemed at a loss for how to quell the baby's cries herself, so she took out her wand and handed it to Alicia, who passed it over her own chest, murmuring, "Lactatio." She nodded at the nurse and handed the wand back; then Harry was jolted as Alicia very calmly opened her robes and blouse and began to unfasten her bra. He turned away, red faced, then turned back again when the baby's cries stopped, curious. The baby had latched onto Alicia and was nursing contentedly now, one of his little hands brushing over the curve of her slight breast. Harry swallowed and turned away again. He noticed, however, that Sirius did not seem avert his eyes at any time, and he wondered at this.

After some rustling, Hermione told him, "You can turn around now, Harry." He did, finding that a soft blanket was hiding both the nursing baby and Alicia's chest. He still felt a bit red-faced.

"Thanks for that, miss," the nurse said. "Ma'am, I should say. She won't do it. Just stares an' stares. She don' touch 'im, hold 'im, nuffin'. We've given 'im some bottles, but 'e should 'ave his mum's milk. Best thing." She glanced at Fleur, shaking her head. "A shame. So pretty. But nuffin' there."

"What's his name?" Hermione wanted to know. The nurse snorted.

"That we know. Arne FitzDavies Delacour."

"Arne?" Harry said, frowning.

"It means eagle," Alicia said, swallowing, still holding the baby tightly. "Roger wanted that name. Because of being in Ravenclaw. He contacted Fleur's midwife months ago, to tell her that, so there'd be no question when the baby was born."

Harry nodded. "Shouldn't his name be Arne Delacour Davies? What's this FitzDavies?"

Hermione, to his surprise, colored. "It means illegitimate son of Davies.," she said quietly. "Like FitzRoy means illegitimate son of the king."

Harry looked at Alicia, who was glancing under the blanket. "Oh," he said softly.

"I'll take him," Alicia said suddenly, looking up at the nurse. Gabrielle gasped, then gripped Hermione's arm.

"Er--" the nurse responded awkwardly. Harry was surprised; he didn't think she was the sort to be at a loss for words.

Sirius stepped forward and put his hand on Alicia's shoulder, his face full of concern. "Are you sure about this?" he said softly.

She looked up at him and nodded, then looked at the nurse. "My husband is--away for the moment. But he is the father, and I am his legal wife. She's clearly not competent. I can feed him by magically inducing lactation, I can change his nappies, I can do whatever he needs a mother to do. What do I have to sign to have permission to take him? He can't just stay here. His mother is catatonic, and she needs to go back to a ward where she'll be treated for her condition."

The nurse looked back and forth between Fleur and Alicia and Gabrielle, clearly adrift in this situation. Gabrielle ran to her sister, taking Fleur's face in her hands and murmuring to her in French. Harry strode to Fleur and crouched before her; Gabrielle moved to her side. "Fleur!" he said sharply, trying to get her attention. "Fleur, it's Harry. I've come again. Har-ree. You've a beautiful son. Don't you want to see him?" Gabrielle started speaking to her sister very rapidly, presumably translating what Harry had said.

Hermione walked to Harry and put her hand on his shoulder. "Harry--"

But Harry gazed up at Fleur's perfectly placid, expressionless face from his position on the floor, trying to will her to notice that she was a mother, that her sister was speaking to her, anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed that Alicia had removed the blanket from her front and took the baby from her breast. Harry tried to keep his eyes on Fleur, but at last, curiosity forced him to look at Alicia. She was buttoning her blouse again, then fastening her robes, while Sirius held the baby. He handed the boy back to her and she approached Harry, placing the baby carefully in his arms. He was surprised both by how small and light Roger and Fleur's baby was, and how substantial, how warm and solid and squirmy.

"Fleur," he whispered now, holding up the baby for her to see. He was no longer red and screaming but rather content-looking, some milk dripping from the corner of his mouth. "See him? See your son?" Gabrielle's translation poured out again.

She looked past them out of doors still. Nothing about her expression--or rather, the lack thereof--changed. Harry sighed and stood with the baby. He looked down at him, at his dusting of dark hair, his large blue eyes, his round cheeks and very pale skin. He was the image of Roger Davies.

The image of a Death Eater.

Harry shook himself, trying not to think that. He'd been trying to protect his family. Harry had offered to do as much, in the Forbidden Forest, to protect Ron and Hermione. They were like his family. He held the baby tighter, thinking of what his mother had gone through in his other life to protect her family. He looked at Alicia again. She had nothing now, he thought. Nothing but this baby. Roger was probably dead, Harry realized. If he was just in hiding--how could someone do that? How could Roger not emerge from hiding to come see his son, take responsibility for him?

"Who do we talk to?" Harry asked the nurse softly, handing the small boy to her. Gabrielle looked up at him and took his hand in hers; her look seemed to say that he had tried, they had both tried, but it was no use. The nurse drew her lips into a line.

"The midwife. I need to take 'im back to the nursery. Follow me; I'll take you to her office."

And so it was settled. As the legal wife of the father of record (Roger's name was on the birth certificate) Alicia was permitted to take Arne FitzDavies Delacour back to Hogwarts, to act as his mother until further notice. Oddly enough, Gabrielle seemed to be quite happy with this arrangement.

"Can I come to see 'eem?" she asked breathlessly, holding her nephew and watching him grasp one of her fingers with his tiny hand.

"Of course you may," Alicia said generously to the young girl. "You're in Gryffindor, right? I was in Gryffindor, too," she said, sounding a little wistful, as though she wished she were back in school, when her life wasn't quite so complicated.

The doctor went with them to the entrance hall of St. Mungo's, helping Alicia to prepare to take the baby through the Floo network. They made the trip back to Hogsmeade without incident, then walked to the castle from the village, each of them helping to carry some baby paraphernalia, except for Alicia, who carried little Arne close to her chest in a sling the midwife had given her.

Harry was shocked that the trip hadn't taken very much time at all; he and Hermione were only ten minutes late to History of Magic. While the ghostly Professor Binns droned on, Harry and Hermione filled Ron in on what had happened at St. Mungo's. Ron's jaw dropped. "So--so you saw her--feeding the baby?"

Hermione hit his arm with the back of her hand. Ron didn't seem to notice. Harry felt himself going red, but he said, "It's a perfectly natural thing, Ron. It's how we all start off in life. Nothing to get excited about," he lied, as he'd been rather uncomfortable and yet curious about what Alicia was doing (and guilty after taking peeks).

"So--she's going to be living here at Hogwarts and taking care of her husband's kid while her dad goes on trial for murder. Weird. That's all I have to say. Very, very weird."

Harry and Hermione nodded; they all agreed on that.

After lunch they had Herbology; when the lesson was over and Professor Sprout asked for volunteers to help repot some mandrakes, Harry smirked at Neville and stepped up to help. Neville gave him a sly look as they went to get some pots.

"I can't believe you never said anything about the mandrakes, Nev," he whispered to him. "Even to Ron. He didn't know what his own brothers were up to!"

Neville shrugged as he worked. "As you've learned by now, Harry, I can keep secrets rather well."

Harry put his earmuffs on, thinking about how true this was; Neville hadn't told any of them about his parents for years. And Harry certainly hadn't suspected that he was a willing participant in the Great Plan. When they were walking down to Hagrid's afterward for their final class of the day, Neville was beside Harry while Hermione and Ron walked ahead. "Um, Harry, can I ask you something?" Neville said uncertainly. "Do you remember Ron saying something about getting me my own girlfriend--?"

Harry laughed and slung his arm around Neville's shoulders. "That's right. We've been quite negligent about that. Who've you got your eye on?"

Neville looked around furtively, then whispered a name. Harry stopped, taking his arm from Neville's shoulders and swallowing. "Erm, you realize that might be a bit difficult..."

Neville shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak. "Yeah, I reckon so. You think--maybe if I send her a really nice Valentine? That's only about a month away."

As they continued walking, Harry shrugged. "That might help break the ice. Has she ever shown any interest in you?"

Neville frowned. "Not really." He sighed as they reached Hagrid's hut. The Slytherins and the other Gryffindors who were already there all looked rather apprehensive. They stood on the frosty ground, shivering in the wind, while Hagrid wheeled a large crate out of his hut and into the fenced paddock nearby, which sometimes held baby unicorns or hippogriffs (after Harry's fifth year, Hagrid decided to include these in the curriculum again, but only for fifth year and up). After parking the crate, which looked large enough to hold Hagrid himself and a little room to spare, he came to the fence to speak.

"Afternoon, all!" he said brightly, looking very cheerful and excited. He clapped his huge hands together and grinned at them, even the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy sneered; if Hagrid was happy at the beginning of the lesson, that was a very bad sign, his expression seemed to say. Harry wasn't so certain he didn't think the same. "Now, I ain't doin' this fer jest anyone. On'y seventh years. You lot'll need practice on these sort o' creatures ter pass yer N.E.W.T.s. I spoke ter Perfessor Figg, and ever'one who does well with this gets ter skip one o' her assignments. Now, Duelin' Club members up front, as they'll have the most experience in how ter subdue 'im without hurtin' 'im, but I wan' ter give ever'one a chance. All right, now, we'll start with--" He consulted a parchment in his hand; "Millicent Bulstrode, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," he read, as though he'd never met them and he hadn't invited Harry and Ron to tea after class.

Harry swallowed, drawing his wand. He leapt lightly over the fence, as did Ron. Draco Malfoy started to, until he realized that Millicent needed some help, which he reluctantly gave her. The four stood arrayed before the crate, which was eerily still and silent.

"Now, don' think 'e'll mind the cold. Remember--'e's in 'is element in the cold. Right now 'e's stunned. When 'e's revived, 'e'll be a wee bit cross. Try not to antagonize 'im, yeah? And remember ter have fun!" Hagrid added, grinning.

The four of them looked at each other apprehensively. Cross? Harry thought. They'd be very lucky if he was merely cross. And they were supposed to have fun?

"I'll do it," Harry said finally, when neither Ron, Draco nor Millicent said anything. "I'll cast the spell to revive him." They all nodded grimly and stepped back a little, to give him a clear field. He pointed his wand at the crate, shaggy pure white fur showing through the large cracks between the wooden planks.

"Ennervate!" he cried. A crackling white light shot from his wand and slid cleanly through the boards, striking the creature waiting within. After a moment's hesitation, there was a roar of outrage, and the crate exploded, splintery wood flying in all directions as the creature erupted in rage, ripping his prison to shreds.

"Harry!" Hagrid cried, chiding him. "Ye should 'ave cast the spell ter open the crate first! Now it's ruined!"

Harry called over his shoulder to Hagrid, "I'll repair the crate later, Hagrid! I've got bigger worries right now!" The yeti slogged toward them, his arms outstretched and his eyes wild.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Afterward, they were laughing about it of course. The yeti was stunned again and back in his repaired crate, which they left standing in the paddock instead of wheeling it back into Hagrid's hut. (Hagrid explained that if they were going to be having tea, it would be better to do it without the hut stinking of yeti.)

Hagrid was grinning and waving goodbye to the students. Crabbe and Goyle were both walking funny as they headed back toward the castle, and Harry winced, watching them. They'd been stupid, of course, which was why they were injured, but that was nothing new for them. He and Ron and Hermione bustled around the dark, crowded hut, helping get the tea ready while Hagrid went out back to retrieve Fang from the pumpkin patch. (Poor Fang hadn't wanted to be in the hut with the yeti.) When Fang entered he made right for Harry, leaping up and licking his face enthusiastically while Harry grinned and removed his very wet glasses, rubbing Fang behind his ears and trying not to wince.

They were all seated around the fire, drinking their tea and talking animatedly about the students' reactions to the yeti when suddenly Hermione caught sight of her watch and leapt up excitedly. "Oh, dear! I completely forgot! I told Ruth and Tony I'd help them with some dueling practice!"

"Aw, Hermione, does it have to be now?" Ron whinged.

"I promised. Somehow I forgot when Harry said about tea. I'm dreadfully sorry, Hagrid. And I volunteered your help, too, Ron. Tony wants some practice going up against someone with exceptional reflexes."

"But--but--" Ron sputtered as Hermione dragged him to his feet and out the door.

"We'll have to do this again, Hagrid!" she called over her shoulder as they left.

"Tha's all right, Hermione. Harry an' I'll have ourselves a right nice tea. Have fun!"

But Ron and Hermione had only been gone for five minutes when a brown owl began beating itself silly against one of Hagrid's windows. He looked surprised and went to the window, muttering. When he had taken a parchment from the bird's leg and unrolled it, he looked up at Harry sighing. "Looks like I'm abandonin' ye, too. Miss Dougherty here says Professor Snape is in the middle of workin' on a very delicate potion and 'e needs some newts. 'E's all out, and she can't get down here and back to the castle in time. I reckon this won't take me too long. You wait here--I'll be back in a shake."

After Hagrid left with a small cage of newts, it suddenly occurred to Harry that he could have offered to send the newts to the Potions dungeon by banishing them. (For that matter, he thought, Snape could have fetched them himself by summoning them. He didn't have to bother Hagrid.)

He drank his tea, sitting back and watching the fire, waiting for Hagrid to return. It was strange being alone; he realized suddenly that he almost never was. He was with Ron and Hermione usually, or if they had gone off to be together, he was in the Gryffindor common room with the other students in his house. He went running with seven other people, ate in the Great Hall, and even Malfoy and Tony (and Ron) were usually in the prefects' bathroom when he was showering after running in the morning. He slept in a dorm with four other people. "Alone," was not usually a word that described him.

Suddenly, sitting in Hagrid's hut by himself with just the sound of the crackling fire, his isolation felt quite eerie, and he started to feel more than a little nervous. When the back door of the hut suddenly swung open, he leapt to his feet with his wand drawn and the person who'd entered gasped and backed up against the wall.

It was Ginny.

Harry sighed and lowered his wand, trying to get his breath. "Ginny! You startled me!"

As she closed the door, she said, "I startled you?" Then she turned to him with a smile. "This was supposed to be a surprise, but a pleasant one. Perhaps I should have told Hermione to tip you off."

"Hermione did this?"

"And my sister helped, too. She sent Hagrid a note about some newts."

"Ah. Right," he nodded. realizing how the conspiracy had been done. He pocketed his wand and smiled at her. "It's nice that we have so many people helping us to be alone, but you're still standing over there, and I'm over here...."

They moved toward each other simultaneously and Harry wasn't certain whose arms were thrown around whom first, he just knew that he was holding Ginny and kissing her, that her fingers were in his hair, holding his head in place while she drank him in, and everything felt all right again now that they were together. Ginny broke the kiss and smiled up at him.

"What were you doing before I came in? Sitting by the fire? That looks nice...."

She led him back to the fire and he sat again in the huge Hagrid-sized leather armchair, in which the two of them could easily have sat side-by-side (with space to spare) if they wished. Instead, Ginny sat beside him with her legs over his lap, and he leaned in again, catching her lips with his, kissing her softly at first, then lightly running his tongue along her lower lip, making her drop her jaw and pull him to her. As they continued to kiss, he ran his hand up to her knee, under her robes and skirt, then back down to her feet, pulling off her shoes without untying them. She sighed and squirmed a little, her feet flinching as he ran his fingers over the insteps, then traced the arch of one foot with his thumb.

"Ticklish?" he asked mischievously as he kissed along her jaw, then blew lightly in her ear. She melted against him, guiding his lips to her neck by twining her fingers in his hair.

"Yes," she admitted. "But I don't care. It feels--oh!" She couldn't speak any more as he moved his lips along her neck, nipping lightly at the throbbing pulse-point, while his fingers danced over her feet and her breathing became more and more ragged. Harry moved his hand farther up her leg; she stiffened and he moved it back down to her calf, worried that he'd gone too far too fast, but then she put her hand on his and guided it back where it had been.

He froze, about to ask whether she was sure, but now her hand was moving up his leg, higher and higher, until finally he choked out, "Um, Ginny--"

"Mmm?" she murmured dreamily, continuing to move her hand in lazy circles on his thigh.

"I--I have a couple of--of concerns," he gasped when her hand made a very sudden move before retreating again. She murmured softly at him again, her lips brushing his jaw. He cleared his throat. "First," he said, "we don't really know how soon Hagrid's going to be walking in that door again. Sandy sometimes tells me these things, but I didn't wear her to come out this afternoon, as it's so cold."

She looked up at him with a sly half-smile. "Yes, we do know how soon Hagrid might be back. Maggie promised me that she'd keep Hagrid in the Potions dungeon, talking about cooking, until at least--" she twisted around and looked at his watch; "--five thirty."

"Cooking?" he laughed, hugging her tightly. "What's she going to do? Ask him for his recipe for rock cakes?"

"If necessary," she answered, with a very large grin.

Harry lowered his face until it was a fraction of an inch from hers. "I'm so glad I found you a sister. She's far more helpful than any of your brothers...."

She started to laugh at that, but he cut her off, catching her lips with his again. She opened her mouth, her warm tongue flicking out against his. He began moving his hand up her leg again, and groaned when she placed her hand where it had previously been. However, he suddenly remembered that he wasn't done with his list.

"Oh, right," he said, separating his mouth from hers with difficulty. "The second thing. I'm, erm, not really sure how far we--erm, what I mean to say is--have you had a chance--to go see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Oh, no," she breathed, a panicky look in her eye. Harry nodded grimly, taking his hand out from under her robes and smoothing them down over her lap.

"Ah," he said, his chest tight with disappointment. "In that case, we need to exercise some self-con--" He noticed that Ginny didn't seem to be listening, although her eyes were very wide, looking over his shoulder. He turned and saw a pale face under very pale hair looking in at the window.

"Bloody hell," he spat. "Get up, Ginny," he said quickly. She scrambled to her feet and he pushed past her to the door.

"Wait up, Harry! I have to put my shoes back on!"

"Use magic!" he called over his shoulder to her as he rushed out the door of the hut, following the fresh footsteps through some new-fallen snow. The storm must have started when we were in the hut, he realized. They'd been too preoccupied to notice that snow was starting to fall. Harry's teeth were clacking together in the icy wind.

"Draco!" he cried into the wind, walking with difficulty. When he caught up to the Slytherin, his pale hair disappearing against the whirling snow, he touched his shoulder. Draco Malfoy stiffened, then turned, his face ruddy from the wind, his grey eyes blazing with fury. He pulled his arm back suddenly, and before Harry knew what was happening, he found himself on the cold ground, his jaw aching. He could taste blood. It had been so quick he was having trouble digesting it. He put his hand to his aching jaw and winced; where Malfoy's fist had made contact, the skin was raw and sensitive. The cold made it sting even more. He looked up at the other boy, incredulous.

"You hit me!" he couldn't help exclaiming in shock. Malfoy sneered at him, although he also looked like he might want to cry.

"You're as quick as ever, Potter. Which isn't saying much," he drawled. It sounded forced.

Harry struggled to his feet; the wind had died down momentarily. "Listen, Draco--"

"No!" he cried suddenly. "You do not call me that! Friends use first names. We are not friends, Potter!" Harry swallowed and tried to put his hand on Malfoy's arm, but it was knocked away. "Don't you touch me, you--you--false friend."

Harry looked at him helplessly; he could see the loss in Draco Malfoy's eyes, behind the anger, as though Harry's betrayal were far worse than Ginny's. "I'm not a false friend," he said levelly, although even to him it sounded hollow. "And I've made no secret of how I still feel about Ginny. I never lied to you about that."

"Oh, no, but you did let me think she wanted nothing to do with you. Ah, well, here she comes now. I don't know why I'm surprised; I gave her her acting training, now didn't I? Isn't that coming back to bite me?" he snapped. Ginny stood before them, her cloak pulled tightly around her. Her mouth was drawn very thin. "I should have known you couldn't stay angry with him, if you ever were," he said, speaking to her now. "This is Harry-bleeding-Potter we're talking about, after all. The one you were thinking about every second we were together!" She looked down and away. His anger escalated. "You don't even bother to deny it now! God, how stupid was I to think a Gryffindor would ever really stoop to being with a Slytherin? You were just slumming with me, weren't you? Women!" he spat at her.

Harry didn't say anything; they'd both deceived him, it was true. Draco Malfoy turned his ire on Harry again.

"And you! Trying to make me think you were pining away for her! God, now I know how Weasley felt when he found out about you and Granger. Is that how you make friends, Potter? Sneaking around behind those friends' backs with the girls you know they fancy? Isn't that friendly?"

"I didn't know, honestly!" Harry said at last. The wind howled in his ears. "I only found out how she felt about me at Christmas. I wanted to tell you, I did! Because I do think of you as my friend--"

"No! You don't think of me as your friend. You think of him as your friend, the other me, the me who thought it was just lov-er-ly that you and Ginny were together. You seem to have us confused. Just because he was your mate in that other life, you think we're supposed to be friends in this life. And I suppose that because you were shagging that other Ginny, you think you're supposed to shag her--"

Harry turned, hoping the wind had carried Draco Malfoy's words away, hoping that Ginny hadn't heard that. But he looked at her face now; she stared at Malfoy, her jaw slack. Then she turned to Harry, looking very hurt. "Is--is that true, Harry?"

Harry felt his heart pounding in his ears. "No! I loved you in this life before--"

"I don't mean that, Harry. I mean about--what he said you did--in your other life--" She couldn't go on, but continued to look at him with very wide eyes, which grew angrier and angrier, until the fire in those brown eyes surpassed that in Draco Malfoy's. "And he knows? You told him?" she hissed, pointing a shaking finger.

Draco Malfoy burst into laughter, the sound blending with the wind's howls. "You still haven't told her! Ha! I don't think she's acting this time, Potter." He was enjoying himself now. "She looks quite--cross," he said with his eyes wide open in innocence, as though looking for the word that would produce the most extreme understatement. With a sneer, he turned away from Harry and began to walk up the snowy lawn to the castle. Harry watched him go for a half a minute, hovering between him and the irate Ginny, then ran after him. After a moment he realized that the footsteps he heard meant Ginny was running after him.

"Draco!" he cried. "Please, you have to understand--"

Malfoy turned, his wand in his hand. Harry froze, the tip of the wand inches from his face. Ginny stopped short too, at his elbow. "I understand that I was too trusting. I understand that you just take what you want with no regard for anyone else. You sound more like a Slytherin than I do, frankly. I think that needs to change. I think I need to start living up to my house's reputation. It's time I started acting like a real Slytherin again!" He put his wand away and turned back toward the castle, his shoulders squared against the wind..

Harry watched him go, a lump in his throat. He was startled when Ginny put her hand on his arm. Her bright red hair was full of snow, so that she almost looked like an old woman, although her face was still young and unlined. "We should get indoors, Harry," she said simply. He put his arm around her shoulders and together they walked toward the castle, ducking their heads into the wind, and when they were inside the entrance hall, they found that Draco Malfoy had already gone down to the dungeons. They were alone.

Ginny looked helplessly at him; she was drawn and pale under the ruddiness that the wind had temporarily given her. Harry gestured with his head. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk." She didn't respond but followed him to the anteroom just off the Great Hall. When the door to the room was closed, he started to speak, but she stopped him.

"I don't think I want to hear whatever justifications you've come up with between Hagrid's hut and this room. I just--I just want you to understand what's really upsetting me," she said softly, her eyes meeting his, full of hurt. "Or rather, perhaps I should start with what's not upsetting me. Do Ron and Hermione know?" He shook his head, swallowing. She nodded with understanding. "Yeah. You didn't tell them when you showed them the Pensieve. I get that. Ron would have had kittens and Hermione--well, it would have hurt her a great deal." He nodded this time. "And so, when I was using the amulet to watch you in the Pensieve, I didn't find out either. I also understand why you didn't tell me when they weren't around. It would be rather--awkward."

"I--I already had to tell the Hermione in my other life what kind of relationship we'd had in this one, and I just--I didn't want to go through that again. The hardest part was admitting that although Hermione and I loved each other, we weren't in love...."

"Please, Harry," she said, putting her hand up. She sighed, then continued. "All right; I understand completely why you didn't tell Ron, Hermione or me. I get that, I really do. What I don't understand, especially as you said how awkward it was talking to the other Hermione, is how on earth you could tell him, of all people!" Harry saw that she was shaking head to foot, and he longed to take her in his arms, but did not. He drew his lips into a line and looked at her contritely. "I mean--you--you have no idea--"

And then she started crying in earnest, and he couldn't remain apart from her, he had to take her in his arms and pull her head onto his shoulder while she wept quietly, her arms holding him as though she might drown otherwise. "Having him know this--it simply makes me feel violated, Harry. By him. All over again--"

He held her at arm's length and stared at her. "What?"

"No--I don't mean he actually violated me. I mean that he made me feel violated, repeatedly. The first time you know about, when you found us in the Potions Dungeon on Ron's sixteenth birthday....The worst times were--were after he had the amulet. He would--" Her voice dropped to a whisper; Harry had to strain to hear it. "He would tell me that he'd been lying in bed watching me sleep while holding the amulet, and he'd--he'd describe what he was doing while he was watching me--" She shuddered again. "Usually he'd tell me that after he'd tried again to get me to sleep with him. Revenge. He knew how it made me feel, to know he was watching me like that. Spying on me. He told me it hardly mattered whether I took my clothes off for him in person, as he'd seen me many times in the shower and bath--" She put her head down on Harry again and he ached inside that he'd made this possible by giving Draco Malfoy the amulets.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny. I--I didn't know how bad it was..."

"I know you didn't, Harry. I didn't like to speak of it. I just had to carry on, pretending to love him, to be his girlfriend. I had to put up with his humiliating me in private and act as though nothing was wrong when we were around other people. I asked him to stop, but I couldn't be very insistent, because I was still trying to protect you. I had--I had these nightmares, about Tom, only Tom's face became Draco's...."

"Tom?" Harry said, alarmed. "He--he didn't--"

Ginny shook her head. "Oh, he was incapable of laying a finger on me, as he wasn't corporeal until he left the diary. And I doubt that he would have done anything down in the Chamber, as he couldn't risk my waking up. He might have lost some of his strength. No, he--he did things like Draco, earlier, when I was writing in the diary. He'd tell me things that were--rather disturbing for an eleven-year-old girl. Things he'd done. With other girls. And alone. And once he took me into the diary and showed me; somehow he was controlling me so that I couldn't close my eyes in order not to see it. I had no choice. And he asked me whether seeing those things made me excited. Draco did that later and I had to try very hard not to spew, it was so like Tom. It was all more than a little unnerving--what both of them did. I know now that Tom was trying to shake me up. Draco, too. Well, it worked. And then he'd do something else Draco did later, apologize and beg me to continue talking to him. And I would, against my better judgment, because he had rather mesmerized me....At least I can truly say that Draco did not do that. My staying with him was voluntary; I would have done anything to keep you safe."

"Well," he said softly, stroking her cheek. "Not anything. You didn't, after all. That's one reason why he's upset."

She nodded. "I'd say 'I'm sorry,' but I know you didn't want me to do that either, even for the sake of greater realism. I'm glad it never went that far. At least that's one less thing he can hold over my head. He can say he's seen me in plenty of private moments, but never that kind of private moment. Thank goodness."

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stepped back from him. "I'm tired of Draco Malfoy playing mind games with me. I'm tired of feeling violated, and like others know things about me that even I don't know. And now I find out that you--you slept with the me in your other life, and you couldn't be bothered to tell me, but you told him. Did you really think he was going to be your friend if you did that?"

Harry looked down at his shoes. "Maybe. I was obviously wrong. It was stupid...."

"When was it?"

Harry looked up at her. "It was when I told him about my other life."

"No, I mean--" She swallowed. "When did we sleep together?"

"Oh. Um, it was the night we spent together in the Quidditch changing rooms. During the blizzard."

She nodded. "That makes sense. All right, then. Put that in the Pensieve. I'll look at it tomorrow morning."

"Wh--what?" he sputtered.

She looked at him shrewdly. "I think I have a right to know about this, Harry. Although I must admit--" She was whispering again. "I always thought that the first time we slept together, it would be the first time for both of us to be together that way. Not the first time for me and the second time for you. Unless you slept with the other me more than once--"

He shook his head. "No. After we came back to the castle, you went into hiding. That was the last time I saw you alive--" he choked out. "That's why, when I fixed the timelines--" She looked at him, stricken.

"Oh. Right." But when he made a move to take her in his arms again, she backed up. "I think--I think I need some time alone, Harry." She looked up at him. "I want to see the Pensieve, because I think I have that right. And I know that I'll get over this. I love you and I want to be with you. But--I think expecting me to get past this in a matter of minutes isn't quite fair." He nodded in agreement. She swallowed and turned toward the door. "All right then. We agree. I'll eat breakfast early tomorrow. When everyone's left your dorm, come and get me in the common room. I'll look at that night in the Pensieve."

She left, closing the door softly behind her. Harry sank down onto the floor, running his hand through his hair. He'd made her feel violated. The idea haunted him, remembering as he did carrying her to the hospital wing, when he'd thought that Draco Malfoy had attempted to ravish her in the Potions dungeon. It turned out he'd come rather close. But somehow, he wondered whether all of Ginny's efforts to protect him were now for naught, because Malfoy saw them in Hagrid's hut. The words of the boy he'd tried to befriend rang in his ears. He knew that he had to heed what he'd said:

I think I need to start living up to my house's reputation. It's time I started acting like a real Slytherin again!

Harry swallowed and went to the door. He'd been trying to make a friend, and instead--he had resurrected an enemy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Ginny emerged from the Pensieve the next morning, she looked somewhat thoughtful. She sat down on Ron's trunk and looked down at her hands, rather than up at Harry. He sat opposite her, on his own trunk, waiting for her to say something.

"Is that why you didn't want to tell me?" she finally said, still not looking at him. "Were you--afraid I wouldn't want to sleep with you in this life if I knew how it went that night? That morning, rather."

Harry felt himself redden. "Well--I reckon that was part of it. I also didn't know how you'd feel about it having happened in general. As you said yesterday, our first time wouldn't really be our first time because of this...."

She finally looked up at him, eyeing him thoughtfully. "You were thinner. And taller. And I still can't get used to the idea of you without the scar." Her voice was very quiet. He tried not to think about her in the Pensieve, looking at his body. The thought was too distracting. "I was very thin, as well."

"Too thin," he agreed. "It was unhealthy. That's why--why you thought you were going to have a baby. That and the fact that you hadn't had the potion."

She tried to smile a little. "I have a healthy appetite, with all the running and dueling training. In fact, I keep feeling like I should work out more diligently, lose a little weight. Especially after Mum has sent one of her cakes, or some fudge--"

"Don't say that!" he exclaimed, smiling at her. "You're lovely. You could even stand to gain some more weight, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want you to blow away on the wind."

She guffawed. "Little danger of that." She paused. "Is it possible that you didn't tell me--because you didn't want to repeat that at all? In this life?"

His jaw dropped. "No!"

She grimaced. "I had to ask. Sometimes--I'm still not sure whether I'm dreaming. You want to be with me. Harry Potter actually wants to be with me. You don't know how many times Tom told me that I should forget you, that I was more like him, that you'd never be with someone who'd kill roosters and release a basilisk and lie about it....I believed him, of course. I think that was still at the back of my mind when I started seeing Draco. I remembered what Tom said about me, what I deserved, and whether you would ever notice me, which he said was very unlikely, but not in such kind words. Draco said as much; They were both always saying Potter would never understand you, appreciate you. You're supposed to be with someone like me..."

"And you believed them? Oh, Ginny, is that why you did all that to make me believe you hated me? Because you thought that's who you were and had no choice? God! What did they do to you? How could they make you believe that you had to be that person?" He shook his head. "Remember Viktor? Poor Viktor bought what his grandfather told him, that he had to be a certain way because of his blood, his line. But that's not true. We always have choices, Ginny, every one of us. I botched this up because I chose to tell Draco and not you. I was incredibly stupid. But you don't have to act anymore. You don't have to pretend to love Draco Malfoy or hate me. He knows; he knows now and we're just going to have to deal with that. But most importantly--you can stop believing you're someone who has to be with a Draco Malfoy or a Tom Riddle. You're not like them. Not if you choose not to be."

She looked up at him gratefully, looking like he might cry. "I'll try to work on that, then. But--maybe I need to do that on my own. Some time to really think about who I am. And--and to get over Draco knowing about--"

He nodded. "Right. Of course. Take all the time you need. I love you; that won't change."

She smiled through her tears at him. He could wait. They would be fine. His heart ached when he thought of the psychological manipulations of both Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy, the way they'd convinced her to devalue herself, to be like them.

They both jumped when the door suddenly burst open and Ron rushed excitedly into the room. Harry sprung to his feet guiltily, speaking very quickly. "We weren't doing anything! We're both fully clothed! We weren't even touching!"

Ron stopped short, looking back and forth between the two of them and looking mystified. "A bit paranoid, aren't we, Harry? If you had been doing anything, I would have known before I came up the stairs, trust me." Then Ron shook himself. "Listen, you weren't down at breakfast, when the post owls came with the papers, so I just had to run up and tell you--"

"What?" they said in unison. Ron had the largest grin Harry had ever seen on him.

"The Gringotts siege is over! All of the Death Eaters turned themselves in, and the goblins are asking for immunity in exchange for their testimony against the Death Eaters. They might not all get it. But here's the best part--Remus had been the operative in charge of the Gringotts stand-off. The other operatives all answered to him, and Aurors from the Ministry were working with the operatives at last, too, as they weren't getting anywhere on their own. Well, when they turned themselves in, they insisted that it be to Remus, so he's getting the credit for the entire stand-off ending! He's a bloody hero! Anyway, the Great Hall is a madhouse. It's fantastic, like a huge party. You have to come down!"

He pulled Harry to the door and Ginny followed. Ron was not exaggerating; when they were still several flights up from the Great Hall they could hear the racket, and when he reached the source of the noise he thought he would go deaf. It was a mystery to him how Ron was able to stand it, with his extra-sensitive werewolf hearing.

The students and teachers were thronging the hall without regard to house tables. People were hugging each other and jumping about excitedly. Someone was punching the air and crying out, "Take that, Death Eaters!" And Seamus stood on the Gryffindor table and held up the front page of the Prophet. The headline was huge:

DEATH EATERS SURRENDER TO WEREWOLF
GRINGOTTS SIEGE ENDS PEACEFULLY

The photograph on the front page showed Remus Lupin waving his wand to shackle two Death Eaters. "Score one for the werewolves!" Seamus crowed, raising Ron's arm into the air, while Ron grinned uncontrollably and hugged Hermione with his other arm. She was laughing, clearly glad to see Ron so happy, and when she saw Harry and Ginny, she hugged Ginny, grinning, and then threw herself at Harry.

"Oh, Harry! Isn't it wonderful?" she shouted in his ear, so he could hear her above the din. "And Minister Fudge says that Remus is going to get the Order of Merlin! That's completely unheard-of for a werewolf!"

Harry looked around; a number of people were cheering for "Professor Lupin." He grinned; Remus had been a very popular teacher during the two years-Harry's third and sixth--that he'd taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He shouted at Hermione, "Maybe if Mrs. Figg doesn't stay another year, Remus can get his teaching job back."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think he'll want it. The Prophet is full of speculation that he's going to be offered a very high-ranking post in the Ministry. It's about time the rest of the wizarding world found out how wonderful he is, instead of just us! Oh, Harry, this could do wonders for werewolves' reputations!" Her eyes were shining as she regarded Ron again, who was surrounded by Will Flitwick, Jamaica Thomas, Dean Thomas, Neville and Seamus, who were all patting Ron on the back and talking loudly about Remus Lupin being their favorite teacher ever. Ginny grinned at her brother and he enfolded her in a hug that looked slightly painful; she had her hand on her lower back and was smiling less enthusiastically when he released her.

Harry already felt tired from the celebrating. Hermione looked at him, concerned. "Are you all right, Harry?"

He shrugged. "I'll be fine. Ginny and I are having a rough patch, is all. Well, not a rough patch so much as--we're taking a little break."

Hermione looked disappointed. "A break from what, precisely? And after what Maggie and I went through yesterday to--"

"Yes. Thanks for that. But in a way--well, that's part of why we're doing this. See, Draco Malfoy knows about us now. He saw us down at Hagrid's hut. And then he told Ginny--he told her that I'd slept with her in my other life."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "He told her what? You did? And he knows? Oh, God, Harry." She looked at his face, frowning, then held his jaw with her right hand and surveyed the raw skin where Draco Malfoy had hit him. "Is that where this came from? I'd like to kick his--"

A roaring chorus of For Lupin's a Jolly Good Fellow drowned out her comment, but when he bent and put his head closer to her mouth, he could make out the next thing she said. "And why would he tell her that you two had slept together in your other life? What made him think she'd believe that?" Harry looked at her guiltily and her jaw dropped. "You never said--"

"I'm sorry Hermione. I was showing you and Ron my Pensieve at the same time. How do you think he'd react to that? Not to mention, well, I wasn't too keen on telling you either. Ginny understands why I didn't tell the two of you, and even why I didn't tell her. She's upset that I told Draco Malfoy."

Hermione had turned quite pink and she nodded. "Yes," she said shortly. "I can see where she'd be upset by that." Her mouth was drawn very thin, and Harry hoped she didn't hate him now. She glanced at Ginny and then back at Harry. "So--?"

"So I need to give Ginny a little space. She says she has no doubt she'll get over this, but not in the blink of an eye. Which is understandable. And she needs some time to think about some other things, too."

Hermione snorted. "Understandable? I'll say." Then she sought out the Slytherin table, which was hard to see for the thronging students and teachers. "I don't see Malfoy celebrating the liberation of Gringotts. Or any of the Slytherins, for that matter."

Harry searched the crowd with his eyes as well. "No. Did they all leave before Ginny and I came down?"

Hermione shrugged. "Could be. After people started opening their newspapers, it became mayhem pretty quickly. I wonder whether any of them have parents who turned themselves in. Death Eaters. If I had a mum or dad who had just been arrested, even if I didn't think they were right, I doubt I'd be celebrating."

Harry nodded. "Right. I'm just a bit surprised not to see Millicent, or Mariah. For Slytherins, they're not bad."

Hermione nodded. "But I think that's largely because they like Draco. Millicent--well, she's never had any hope. Sad, really. Draco really takes advantage of her. Do you know I think he gets her to do his homework quite a lot? And Mariah, well--" She guffawed. "He takes advantage of her in a slightly different way. But let's face it--both Millicent and Mariah are screwed, no matter which way you look at it."

"Hermione!" he said, shocked at her language. Not that he didn't say far worse, but he wasn't accustomed to her speaking like this. She laughed.

"After almost seven years, you and Ron have been a terrible influence on me. What can I say? Do you think people would fall over in shock if I said something like that during a prefects' meeting?" She was grinning at him. He laughed.

"Probably." Then he thought of Mariah again. "I do think he cares about Mariah, though. She may not have been his first choice, but she helped Ginny, and Ginny thinks she's a good person. Maybe if he ever realizes what a good thing he has in her, she can help keep him--"

"--from becoming a complete pawn of Voldemort? That would be nice, but we'd hoped that of Ginny, too, didn't we?"

"Mariah is with him because she really cares about him, though, not because she's trying to protect someone else, as Ginny was with me," he reminded her.

"Yes, but if she really cares about him, she could wind up going along with whatever he decides to do. She doesn't want him to refuse an order from Voldemort and die. I doubt she does, anyway." Hermione's voice shook. Then she grinned again as Ron grabbed her hand and whirled her away, while someone started singing the Chudley Cannons fight song, laughing and clapping. Harry let himself be swept into the crowd celebrating Remus Lupin's magnificent capture of over twenty-five Death Eaters. But as he did so, he felt rather empty, watching the celebration rage on around him. I can still hope, can't I? he thought. Maybe the love of a good woman will save Draco Malfoy yet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But just over three weeks later, Malfoy was still not interested in being Harry's friend, Ginny was still working through her Riddle and Malfoy issues, not making any attempt to spend any time alone with him, Sirius was cross with him after he told him that Draco had found out about him and Ginny, and nothing else good had come of the Gringotts siege being over. There were a large number of Death Eaters to be processed and tried. The ringleaders were going to be tried together; the subordinates would have a separate trial. And soon Alicia's father's trial would begin, which promised to go badly. Or at least, predictably.

Crabbe and Goyle were hanging about with Draco Malfoy again. Millicent and Mariah were still hanging about with him too, so now where he had a gang of three when he was younger, now he was a leader of sorts amongst the five of them, strutting about with one arm draped over Mariah's shouders while Crabbe and Goyle walked behind, each trying to put their arms around Millicent, in a similar fashion, while she beat them off with a look of disgust on her face and an expression of longing aimed at Draco Malfoy. Harry had to be very careful now, for in many of his classes Malfoy's full time occupation had become to prank and irk him at every turn. Putting wrong ingredients in his potions, casting a Contrary Charm on the chair Harry was trying to Transfigure in McGonagall's class, and simply doing puerile things like tripping Harry as he entered the Great Hall for a meal were among the amusements Draco Malfoy had taken up. Harry wanted to take house points for these things, and he could have, but he restrained himself. He would not deign to notice the aggravating things Malfoy was doing. He wouldn't. After he'd been tripped and was lying, sprawled, on the cold stone floor of the Great Hall before the entire school, Mariah mouthed, Sorry, before following Malfoy to the Slytherin table. Harry worried for her. Had Malfoy done the same thing to her he'd already done to Ginny? Did she think she had no choice but to be with Draco Malfoy?

Harry was glad to have the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw to focus on. The first Saturday in February was frigid but without a new fall of snow. The air was crisp and cold as they Gryffindor team made their way to the changing rooms, and when Ron was pacing the floor of the team meeting room, Harry met Ginny's eye and she reddened, looking away. It was here, he thought, looking at the leather couch where Tony, Neville and Dean were sitting. He thought Ginny might be thinking the same as she glanced up at the house banners hanging on the walls; if it weren't for those banners, they would have been much colder that night.

Finally, they were on the pitch, and when the game started, Harry started flying rings around the second-year boy who had replaced Cho Chang as Ravenclaw Seeker. Soon Ron was doing his usual job of racking up points, as he sent the Quaffle hurtling into one goal or another at the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. The crowd was split in its cheering; about half were Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students cheering for Gryffindor, while about half were Ravenclaw and Slytherin students cheering for Ravenclaw. Harry saw Draco Malfoy and Mariah Kirkner very briefly, sitting near Millicent Bulstrode. All three of them were on their feet when one of the Ravenclaw Beaters sent a Bludger toward Neville. Neville, however, raised his Beater's bat and propelled it toward one of the Ravenclaw Chasers.

Ginny allowed three Quaffles to get past her in the time that Ron had put twelve past the Ravenclaw Keeper, but Harry still hadn't seen the Snitch. It was tempting to hover near his own goals, watching her. When he finally gave in to this temptation temporarily, he found himself rewarded by seeing a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye. Ginny saw it too.

"Harry--" she started to say, but he was already speeding toward it, down near the far goal post, twenty feet off the ground. He had to chase it in circles around the post before grasping it--which made him dizzy--but when he finally had it in his hand, he breathed a sigh of relief and flew upward again to see Ginny, the Snitch held high over his head. But she wasn't there; she'd flown forward to meet the other Gryffindor players, and they were all congratulating each other without Harry, until he finally joined them.

Afterward, the party in the Gryffindor common room went on for hours, during which Harry just watched Ginny, sitting on the opposite side of the room drinking a butterbeer and wanting her so badly. He'd hugged her briefly right after the game, but he'd only dared to dance with her once during the party. The wizarding wireless was playing mostly raucous music, and he'd had to wait for a soft, slow song. She'd looked down at his shirt the entire time, keeping her distance. Afterward, Zoey had pulled her away, making some excuse, and he had watched her go, feeling bereft.

Harry stayed in the common room long after the others had all gone up to their respective dorms, trying to focus on the good things from the day. He sat with his feet stretched out toward the fire, thinking about the match and grinning. The entire team had been brilliant; Ron, Annika, Natalie, Tony, even Neville. And Ginny, especially Ginny. He remembered his own experience as a Keeper; not the easiest thing in the world, after being a Seeker, but for the most part she kept those Quaffles out of the goals with a single-bloody-mindedness that had proved impossible to beat, combined with Ron's Chaser prowess and his snagging the Snitch, of course....

He remembered the way she'd felt in his arms when the entire team had been hugging after the win, how hard it had been not to kiss her as he had that time in his fifth year when Hermione had stomped on his foot....Even though she wouldn't have done that if he had kissed Ginny (Hermione was too busy hugging Ron), he somehow didn't feel like repeating it. He felt like Pavlov's dog, effectively warned away for life from kissing Ginny Weasley after Quidditch matches. And he hadn't felt that Ginny would welcome a kiss at that moment, either.

He heard a step on the stairs and thought about turning around, but he was so tired he just continued to watch the flames and lean against the chair. He immediately felt every nerve in his body stand to attention when he heard the soft voice.

"Harry? What are you doing up?"

He didn't turn to look at her; it was hard enough to see her, day in and day out, without seeing her late at night, too. If he hadn't been so stupid and just told her about what had happened in the Quidditch changing rooms...

"I'm--I'm just a bit wired still. The match. I'll probably go up soon. Why are you up?" He tried to sound casual.

"I've got a dreadful ache in my neck from grasping my broomstick so hard during the match. It's just that I have to fly with one hand, and so the hand I'm not using to catch the Quaffle...well, Zoey practically had to pry my hand from the broomstick, and I could feel the strain all along my arm, and shoulders...."

"So you couldn't sleep?"

"Well, that and I thought I'd go to see Madam Pomfrey for some kind of salve, anything to take this pain away...."

Harry took a breath before speaking, knowing he was taking a huge risk of being laughed at or scorned. "Maybe--maybe I can help. Come here." He turned to look at her now. She was wearing her old grey dressing gown over a long pink nightgown and dirty pink slippers. Her hair was wild and her eyes looked a little bleary, as though she'd tried to get some sleep and the pain wouldn't let her. She walked tentatively to the fire, and Harry opened his legs and patted the hearth rug before him. She started to sit down facing him, looking unsure, but he said, "No; face the fire." She turned her back to him and sat between his legs, and he felt her shudder for a moment.

He gathered her hair together and twisted it into a thick rope which he draped over her shoulder so it was out of the way. He put his hands on both of her shoulders, starting to knead the muscles there and along her upper back and upper arms. But the dressing gown material was bunching annoyingly, and after a few minutes, he asked her, "Can I take your dressing gown from your shoulders?" She nodded, saying nothing, and he brought the dressing gown down and pulled her arms out of the sleeves. Her nightdress did not actually have sleeves, just thin little straps holding it up, and Harry sucked in his breath, unprepared for this sight. He tried to be clinical about it and return to the massaging, but the longer he looked at that tantalizing little freckle on the back of her neck, the more he wanted to lick it....

As he moved his hands over her flesh, he felt her muscles eventually unbunch and at length, a light sheen arose on her neck and shoulders. He was aware of her breathing sounding different, and he moved his head to one side while he continued to knead her shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of her face. He could see her in profile, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, and he could see her chest rising and falling as her breathing sped up.

He stopped for a moment, both gratified to see that what he was doing was having an effect on her and afraid to do anything that would change this moment, alter the balance in any way. Willpower, he told himself. That's all you need. He resumed the massage, but a moment later he bit back a moan in his throat as her hands had wandered to her sides and found his legs. He tried to focus, he really did, but now, while he was manipulating her muscles, she was lightly tracing her fingers up and down his legs, occasionally focusing on his very sensitive kneecaps. He was very thankful he was still fully clothed....

He moved his hands over her neck and shoulders and back on autopilot, trying not to think about what her softly caressing fingers were doing to his legs....But finally, he had to go and look at that damn freckle again, and found his mouth being drawn inexorably toward it....

She sucked in her breath when she felt his mouth on her neck, and he braced himself, waiting for her to put a stop to it. But she didn't; if anything, the action of her hands on his legs became more sensuous than ever and more frantic, until Harry couldn't help himself, and he moved his mouth from her neck to her shoulder and back again, both sides of her neck, nipping and kissing and sucking....

He had had to stop massaging her because the area where he was kissing was the same area where he had been massaging. Now he brought his hands lightly to her shoulders, tickling the skin there softly and letting his fingers continue down the backs of her upper arms, then the fronts, then focusing briefly on that supremely sensitive skin in the crooks of her elbows, then the backs of her upper arms again, his fingers lightly tracing her repeatedly as though he were blind and trying to memorize her, and the whole time, his mouth moved on her neck and shoulders and upper back and he thought he could never have enough of her smooth skin, that nothing had ever sounded so wonderful as her surprised gasp when he gave attention to a spot that had been languishing, Harry-less, until he traced over it with his tongue or nipped it lightly with his teeth....

Her hands were gripping his legs now instead of caressing as he continued to tickle her arms and lick her shoulder, and when she turned and looked at him, the moment their eyes met, Harry knew that she had forgiven him completely and that she probably wasn't going to run screaming into the night, either, because he'd told Malfoy that they'd slept together in his other life and had neglected to tell her.

Their hands stopped moving, and they looked into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity. Finally, she turned around completely, kneeling on the hearthrug before him, not breaking eye contact for a moment. She put her hand on his cheek and he covered it with his own hand, knowing that he was her slave, that whatever command she gave him, to do this or not do that, he would obey without question. If she demanded that he stop and never touch her again, he would have to agree....

But she was leaning toward him, and when their lips met, Harry was almost willing to believe it was a dream. She continued to press her lips again his, and now he brought his hands up behind her head and held her mouth in place, opening his, running his tongue lightly along her upper teeth, feeling her soft little tongue meet his, the heat almost undoing him completely. She relaxed on the floor in front of him, twining her fingers in his hair, opening her mouth wider; he shook, not completely certain he wasn't going to weep for joy, doing everything he could to make her a part of him, holding her tightly. He wasn't sure how long they'd been kissing when she gently pulled her mouth away from his, but she wasn't gone for long. She kissed both corners of his mouth, then moved her lips along his jaw, then up to his ear, sending an electric jolt through him. When she clamped her mouth on his neck, he closed his eyes, grunting, trying to calm himself a little; she was driving him mad.

Then her fingers started fluttering over his shirt buttons. She opened the shirt completely, separating from him and looking at his chest appreciatively, giving him a smile that had such raw desire behind it that he really wasn't certain he was awake now instead of dreaming. She moved her mouth down his chest as he continued to caress her shoulders and arms, and when she took his left nipple in her warm moist mouth he felt like he would lose all control and rip her clothes off if they didn't stop soon....

He tried to distance himself, as before. He really tried. But her hands and mouth were drifting over his torso and his breathing became ragged as she pushed him further and further to the point of no return. He looked down at her bright head; her mouth had traced a moist trail down to his trousers, and he knew that this couldn't continue; there was only one thing he wanted to do now, and he knew that they couldn't afford for things to go that far, since she hadn't yet taken the potion.

"Ginny," he whispered, and she brought her head up. He wanted to kiss her again, until she was gasping for breath, but instead he said, "We have to stop." She furrowed her brow. He took a breath. "If we don't--I may not be able to--"

He raised his eyebrows at her, and now she said, "Ooooh... with a look of understanding on her face. "Just put your head on me," he said, pulling her to him so that her head was on his bare chest. "How are your arms and shoulders?"

"Mmmm," she practically purred with contentment. "Much better..."

Harry wrapped his arms around her, trying to quell the turmoil in his body, telling it, "Not tonight, and Settle down. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her back and forth ever so slightly, eventually hearing an odd whistling sound which he remembered was the sound of Ginny sleeping. Her nose whistled when she slept. He smiled to himself and kissed her cheek, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She had forgiven him. That was the important thing. Nothing else mattered.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the morning, Harry was a bit disoriented. Ginny was stretched out on the hearth rug, her head on his thigh, and he was leaning back against the armchair. He ached all over and his bum felt numb. He wanted to stand, but Ginny would need to be woken up for that. He closed his eyes again, not ready to really awaken, unwilling to trade being comfortable for a little more sleep. But then he saw something out of the corner of his eye that he couldn't ignore.

He was cautious, not wanting to scare her away; he watched her work, bustling around the room, fluffing cushions on the squashy armchairs, dusting tables, and finally, creeping near the fire, pointing her hand at it, making it glow with an extra warmth that Harry could feel immediately. Before she could get away, he reached out and grasped her wrist; she looked shocked, clearly having assumed that he was still asleep.

"Let go! Let go of me!" she squeaked, her brown eyes large and frightened.

"Winky, what are you doing here?"

She wore the same small black robes he'd seen her in at the Quidditch match, when she'd attended with Aberforth, her master. A master who paid her, evidently, and clothed her. She seemed to be past caring about that; all she wanted to do was work, and she was clearly allowed to do that. Then he remembered the flick of black he'd seen when he'd entered Alicia's rooms in the staff wing. Other elves did not wear black robes. He couldn't think of a single one of the elves he trained--even the ones who'd opted for clothes, freedom and a salary--who dressed like this. Only Winky.

"You've been here at the castle for a while, haven't you? You were preparing Alicia's rooms when she came. Why on earth are you here?" But even as he asked, the answer blossomed in his brain. "Aberforth is here, isn't he? Your master. Tell me!"

She nodded, her eyes large and frightened. "Please, sir, I is needing to tend to more fires, sir," she said in such a high-pitched voice Harry suspected that dogs in the village would soon be howling. Or Fang. Or Ron.

He released her arm. "I'm sorry I frightened you, Winky. Of course you can--" She disappeared with a loud crack! before Harry had even finished; "--go," he trailed off. Ginny yawned and stretched; Harry wished they were in a more private place, preferably with a bed, and that she'd taken the Prophylaxis Potion. She looked so sensuous, the fabric of her nightgown shifting over her body as she stretched, her head still on Harry's thigh. Stop having those thoughts. Stop having those thoughts, he ordered himself. There are more important things to think of right now.

She finally opened her eyes and blinked sleepily, sitting up. "Oh, goodness! We slept all night down here on the floor?" Then she smiled and leaned toward him. "We never woke up next to each other before," she observed, smiling affectionately at him before giving him a small kiss on the lips. "At least not in this life. I think I can understand why the other me was feeling so randy after sleeping next to you all night with nothing on," she said with a throaty suggestiveness to her voice that was new to Harry, and was not making it easy to change his train of thought. Harry wanted to lift her chin with his finger and kiss her tenderly. He wanted to do a dozen things that didn't involve self-control. But this was neither the time nor place. "Were you shouting a moment ago, by the way?" she asked.

"Yeah. Listen, Ginny. I need you to go upstairs and get Hermione. Be as quick as you can. I'm going up to my dorm to get Ron. It's very important."

She frowned at him. "What is?"

He drew his mouth into a line. "It's about Dumbledore. Get Hermione, please!" She scrambled to her feet and went to the girls' stairs while he stumbled to his feet. It wasn't easy to wake Ron, but Harry finally convinced him to pull on his trainers and dressing gown and come downstairs. Ginny was waiting with Hermione; both girls pulled their dressing gowns securely around themselves and waited for Harry to tell them what was going on.

He looked at his two best friends and the girl he loved and said, "This may shock you, but this morning when I woke up, I found Winky tending the fire here in the common room. Winky!" he repeated when none of them showed any indication that this was an extraordinary discovery. "She works for Aberforth now! And I realized why she was here--the reason Professor Dumbledore has been so queer for so long now is that that isn't Dumbledore! It's his brother! Something we didn't tell you--" he looked guiltily at Ron and Ginny now; "--is that some time ago. Hermione and I were in Dumbledore's office when he didn't know it, and he wasn't actually in there but in his bed chamber, next door. He was lying abed and Professor McGonagall was talking to him; from the sound of it, he was doing something to fight Voldemort without actually leaving Hogwarts. And sometime since then, Aberforth has come to stay and has been impersonating him, I'm sure of it!" He stared at Ron and Hermione, who were now looking guiltily at each other. "What?" he asked them, irritated that they didn't say anything about his discovery.

"Well, erm, we already knew that, Harry," said Ron awkwardly. "The first day Aberforth showed up I sniffed him out. Literally. Dumbledore smells like a sweetshop. A bit overwhelming sometimes, actually, unless he's been eating his favorite sweet, which has a lemon scent and takes the edge off the sugary smell. Aberforth smells like earth and lawn-clippings. Completely different. I told Hermione right off, and she told me about that time you two heard him and McGonagall. We reckoned we shouldn't say anything, because if Aberforth's been impersonating his brother, it must be for a good reason, and the fewer people who knew the better, we reckoned."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You couldn't have told me?"

Hermione looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Harry. We wanted to, but we just didn't know what you would do. After all, he talked about how your scar wasn't hurting you. We worried that you might feel guilty...."

"Well I do feel bloody guilty! I'd also like to know what he's really doing! And I intend to find out!"

He turned and strode toward the portrait hole. The others followed him into the corridor; he was moving so quickly that only Ron kept up with him effortlessly. Despite all their running, Hermione and Ginny were struggling, and Hermione seemed to have developed a stitch in her side by the time they reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate Snidget," Harry said clearly to the gargoyle. The passage opened and they ascended to the oaken door on the spiraling stairs. Harry did not bother knocking but simply opened it, striding across Dumbledore's unoccupied office to the bed chamber door.

"Harry! What do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded, the lack of propriety finally getting to her. "It is before breakfast on a Sunday morning, and three of us are in our dressing gowns!"

Harry turned to her. "I am making sure our headmaster is all right. I don't know about you, but this is something I have to know!" He put his hand on the knob and opened the door.

Despite the early hour and its being Sunday, Dumbledore wasn't alone in the room. A man who looked remarkably like Albus Dumbledore whom Harry now realized was his brother Aberforth was sitting by the bed. He looked up, startled to see Harry and the others come stumbling into the room. At the foot of the bed stood Professor McGonagall, looking equally shocked by the invasion. But what caught Harry's attention was the occupant of the bed.

Lying back on simple linen sheets, with a damp cloth on his brow, was Albus Dumbledore. But he was an Albus Dumbledore who was virtually unrecognizable to them all. His breath rasped, echoing around the still chamber. Harry's heart was in his throat.

The headmaster looked like death.

---