A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 6

"Nobody's Listening"

I got a heart full of pain

Head full of stress

Handful of anger

Held in my chest

Uphill struggle

Blood, sweat and tears

Nothing to gain

Everything to fear

"Nobody's Listening", Linkin Park

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Harry ran down the stairs towards the dungeons, giving a wide berth to a pair of fourth years headed upward. He normally used his invisibility cloak at night when the halls were deserted; it was a challenge to use it when the halls were teeming with students.

Haste was making it difficult to be quiet, but fortunately, there was enough noise in the hallways to hide the sound of his footsteps. It had been difficult to escape his friends in the common room. Ron and Hermione knew where he went on Friday evenings, but Lavender didn't. He had finally told her he had a stomach-ache and was going to bed early. Ron had furtively let him out of the portrait hole after he had retrieved his invisibility cloak.

He considered telling Lavender about his extra lessons and decided it was too soon. They had been hanging around together for the past few days, but they had yet to be on anything that could be remotely considered a date. He wondered about that; he would have to be creative about dating this year since he wasn't allowed go to Hogsmeade. He liked the idea of Lavender being his girlfriend, of holding her hand, maybe kissing her ...

He shook his head to clear his thoughts of Lavender's physical attributes and forced himself to focus on her trustworthiness. The girl could be a bit of a gossip, and Harry certainly couldn't afford for any of his secrets to be made known to the entire student body. No, it would be a long time before he could tell Lavender about his private lessons, if ever. He longed, as he did often, for a time when he could just have the normal worries and frustrations of a teenager and not have secrets he had to keep from a girlfriend.

As he neared the dungeons, his thoughts turned to Snape, and he wondered if the Potions Master would continue to punish him tonight. He hoped that scrubbing the classroom floor with his toothbrush had been enough to satisfy Snape's anger.

Snape had left the door to the classroom open and was waiting to close it behind him. "You're late!" he barked.

"Sorry, Professor Snape," Harry said in what he hoped was a submissive tone.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. It will be more if you haven't been practicing," Snape snarled.

Harry steeled himself for the mental assault and raised his wand, but a knock at the door interrupted Snape's spell casting. The Potions Master cursed under his breath and waved his wand at the door.

"It's Malfoy," Snape said, grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak and shoving it toward him. "Get into the storage room."

Harry did as Snape said without question and shut the door behind him, but he quickly pulled something pink from his pocket. Ever since he had overheard a revealing conversation between Remus and his aunt during the summer, he had kept an Extendable Ear with him at all times. It paused briefly as it reached the crack at the bottom of the door, and moved like a snake raising its head as if deciding which way to go. Harry gave a little sigh of relief as the pink thread finally made its way under the door.

"What can I do for you, Draco?" Snape asked pleasantly, almost affectionately.

"I want to talk to you about my father, sir," came the familiar drawl. "I want to know why he's still in Azkaban."

"Apparently your father isn't as skilled in escape tactics as the others," Snape said in an evasive tone.

"You know that's not the reason," Malfoy protested, his voice low and intense. "I know he helped them escape, and I want to know why he didn't help my father."

"I could only speculate. Why don't you ask your mother? She would be more likely to know than I would."

Harry heard a small choking noise and had to strain to hear Malfoy's next words. "She asked last month. She went to the Dark Lord to plead for him to help Father escape. When she came back ..." Harry heard another choking noise, and then a clearing of a throat. "There was so much blood - all over her legs - she almost died ..." Despite his hatred for the Malfoy family, Harry found himself growing nauseated at the mental image. He wondered if anyone deserved to be abused like that, no matter how evil they were.

"I don't understand why he would do that," Malfoy continued after a pause. "My family has always been among his most loyal supporters." Another pause, and Harry fervently wished he could see the two Slytherins. "I asked her about it when she had recovered a bit, and she would only say that she shouldn't have been so weak - she shouldn't have let the Dark Lord see any weakness."

"She's right," said Snape. Harry flinched at the harsh words, even though the tone was gentle. "Showing weakness in the presence of the Dark Lord is unwise." He heard a quiet rustling of movement and wondered if Snape was capable of giving a gesture of comfort. "I do regret that you and your mother had to discover that fact the hard way."

"Please, Professor Snape. If anyone would know, you would. What's going on with my father?"

Harry heard a heavy sigh. "Look, Draco, your father was useful to the Dark Lord because of his connections at the Ministry. When he was arrested his usefulness was ended. And you don't help matters - you don't exactly keep a low profile here at Hogwarts."

"That's not an issue this year," Malfoy said in a sulky tone. "My housemates aren't allowed to associate with me. Their parents support the Dark Lord, but since my father's been exposed, they don't want to risk guilt by association. Hypocrites!"

"Not all of your housemates' families support the Dark Lord."

"True," agreed Malfoy; Harry thought of Zabini, wondering, not for the first time, which category he fit into. "But they won't speak to me because they see me as the enemy." After a pause, he continued under his breath, "I wouldn't want to be seen with those Muggle lovers, anyway."

Snape gave another heavy sigh, and Harry heard footsteps going towards the door. "Draco, you are a Slytherin and a Malfoy. You must put aside this weakness. The Dark Lord will likely require your service someday soon, and as you have seen, he has no tolerance for weakness of any kind." Harry heard the door to the classroom open. "I am sorry I cannot be of more help to you, but I've just given you the best piece of advice I can." Snape's voice actually sounded regretful.

Harry heard Malfoy's footsteps go out of the room and the door shut and lock behind him. He quickly rolled up the Extendable Ear before Snape opened the door to the storage room.

Snape searched his face as he walked into the classroom. Harry tried to school his expression into impassiveness, but the Potions Master was not fooled. "How much did you hear?"

There was no point in lying about it. "All of it."

The professor gave him a long look and said, "Trust me - he wouldn't appreciate your pity." He gestured toward the storage room with his head and said, "You shouldn't have been able to hear anything through that door. How did you do it?"

Harry remained silent and desperately tried to remove the image of the Extendable Ear from his mind.

Snape nodded. "All right," he said, "this will make a good exercise. I will probe your mind to find out how you managed to overhear the conversation, and you will try to prevent me from finding out."

Two hours later, Harry stumbled back to his dormitory without his Extendable Ear. Snape had taken fifty points from Gryffindor as punishment for eavesdropping, but Harry couldn't help feeling a little pleased that it had taken the Potions Master over an hour to discover his secret. He was improving at Occlumency, which meant he was increasing his chances against Voldemort, and that was much more important than a few house points. Before falling into his bed to sleep, he scribbled an order to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.

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It was a perfect day for a picnic. The last of the summer sun warmed the green grass and glittered silver on the lake. The Forbidden Forest was a sea of brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows, deceptive beauty shrouding its dark secrets. The cloudless sky added bright blue to the bold colour scheme.

Lavender had received a box of sweets from her mother the day before, and she had invited Harry, Parvati, and Seamus to join her for a picnic on what promised to be the last warm day before autumn's chill. The four teenagers lounged on the grass after eating their fill.

Harry lay back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax completely. He had become quite skilled at emptying his mind, and it was bliss to spend his Sunday afternoon without worrying about homework, private lessons, or Voldemort. He should have known it was too good to last.

"So, Harry," said Seamus, rolling over onto his stomach and propping his chin on his hands. "I've been meaning to ask you - what happened at the end of last term? You fainted during the History of Magic O.W.L., and then I heard you left Hogwarts. Is that true? I know Ron and Hermione spent some time in the hospital wing."

The girls sat up straight and stared intently at Harry. "Spill it, Harry," said Lavender. "I heard you all went to London, but I know that's not true. How would you get there? You don't know how to Apparate, do you?"

Harry took deep breaths, trying to force himself to stay relaxed, but the tension that had started in his stomach made its way up to his chest anyway. He sat up with a sigh and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. It's - it wasn't - I just - I just can't talk about it."

"Because it's 'top secret' or because it's too painful?" Parvati asked. Harry was a little surprised at her insight.

"Both I guess," Harry mumbled, desperately casting around in his mind for another topic of conversation. He turned to Seamus and asked, "What do you think of the Cannon's chances this year?"

"But how did Hermione and Ron get hurt?" Lavender pressed. "Hermione was in the hospital wing for days, and I saw the welts on Ron's arms. Were they attacked by something?"

Yeah, Death Eaters, Harry thought to himself. He was perversely tempted to say it just to see the looks of horror on his friends' faces. But then he found himself feeling a little irritated that Ginny, Neville, and Luna were left out of the rumours, and before he could stop himself he said, "Everyone was injured - theirs were just the worst."

"There were others?" Seamus asked with a gasp. "Who else was there?"

"And where did you go?" put in Parvati.

Harry sighed. Surely it wouldn't hurt to tell them an edited version, just to dispel the rumours. "Okay - yes, we left Hogwarts. I thought a friend of mine was in danger, and we went to rescue him."

"Who?" Seamus fired off the question like a detective from a Muggle television show.

"Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna and I. We used ..."

"Wait," Seamus interrupted. "Who's Luna?"

"Luna Lovegood," Harry said. "She's a fifth year Ravenclaw."

"I know her," squealed Parvati. "Her father is the editor of the Quibbler - you know, Lavender - that magazine with all the brilliant quizzes?"

"The blonde?" asked Lavender, screwing up her face in concentration as she tried to remember. "I heard she was a real flake."

"She was very brave," Harry protested, feeling annoyed, even though he had to agree with the assessment. "Anyway, we used the thestrals to leave school." All three of his audience looked very impressed at this, but remained silent. "I was wrong about my friend ..."

"Who did you think was in danger?" asked Seamus. Harry was getting exasperated at the interruptions.

"No one you would know! Anyway, he wasn't in danger after all, but in the meantime we were attacked ..."

"By what?" This time the interruption was from Parvati.

"By Death Eaters!" Harry practically shouted. The others sat in stunned silence, all wearing identical expressions of horror. Harry forced his voice to be calm. "This wasn't just a little field trip - our lives were in danger. Hermione was almost killed. Ron was attacked by - something. Ginny's ankle was broken, Neville's nose was broken, and Luna was knocked out. It wasn't fun, and it's not something I like to talk about - okay?" Harry suddenly realized he had risen to his feet in his fury. He took a couple of deep breaths and said in a quiet voice, "I hope that's enough information for you and your gossipy friends." He turned on his heel and left, striding at top speed towards the castle.

Lavender probably called his name several times before he heard it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He looked over his shoulder and saw her running to catch up to him. He slowed a little, and then stopped without turning around.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she said from behind him. He turned, and at the sight of her tear-stained face all his anger melted away. "I read the article in the Prophet," she continued. "Your godfather - Sirius Black - he died that night, didn't he?" Harry gave a curt nod, feeling his stomach tighten. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I won't ask you about it again."

"It's okay," Harry finally managed to say. He felt the need to explain. "I-I just can't talk about it - not yet. Maybe someday it'll be easier ..." He fought to keep his hands at his sides; they seemed to want to go to her face to wipe off the tears. It was odd that he wanted to comfort her; normally a crying girl made him want to run away.

Lavender sniffed and gave him a small smile. "Can I walk back to the castle with you? Parvati will bring the basket."

"Sure," said Harry, managing to smile back. They walked to Gryffindor Tower in companionable silence.

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Harry looked up eagerly from his Tuesday morning porridge as the owls flew in. "Rita's message said the article would appear today," he said absently.

"What article?" Lavender asked, turning curious eyes toward him.

Harry glanced across the table at his two best friends; Hermione gave a little shrug. He swallowed his irritation and said, "I'll show you as soon as the paper gets here."

As if summoned by Harry's words, a brown owl with white speckles landed neatly on the table before him and dropped the Daily Prophet in front of his bowl. He grabbed a piece of bacon out of the nearest platter and offered it to the bird, which took it and flew away. Harry unfolded the paper and choked back a gasp; he hadn't expected the story to make the front page.

"Abuse at Hogwarts," Lavender read, sliding closer to Harry. "Is that what you were talking about?"

Harry nodded slightly, reading the article quickly to make sure there were no inaccuracies. Satisfied, he started to give the paper to Lavender to read, but froze when he realized she was staring at the back of his right hand. Her eyes flitted to the photograph in the newspaper and then widened in comprehension.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, starting to look queasy.

"Be quiet!" Harry whispered, looking around.

"I can't believe she did that to you!" Lavender said in a quieter voice, her eyes filling with tears as she took the paper from him.

"Lavender," Harry said in an urgent whisper, turning to look her full in the face, "listen - there's a reason I gave the reporter the story anonymously. I get enough attention as it is. Please don't tell anybody!"

"But - everyone needs to know about this - that cow needs to be sacked..."

"I know," agreed Harry, "and that's why I gave her the story, but no one needs to know it was me."

"But it's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," Lavender insisted. "It wasn't your fault!"

"I'M NOT..." he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to control his irritation. "I'm not ashamed," he said. "I just get tired of all the attention - okay?" She didn't look convinced, and he watched in horror as a tear escaped her right eye and trickled down her face. His irritation evaporated, and he couldn't help feeling a little heartened at her righteous indignation. "Look, I'm trying to get her sacked. That's why I gave Rita Skeeter the story. But if everyone knows it's me, they might not take it seriously. Remember how no one took me seriously last year?"

Lavender suddenly looked at her plate; the expression on her face had turned to shame. Harry wondered why, but then remembered that Lavender had been one of the students who hadn't initially believed his story about Cedric and Voldemort. "Sorry," she whispered toward her plate.

"No worries," said Harry. He didn't see the point in harbouring bitterness about it. "But please - don't tell anybody about this - okay?"

"Okay," Lavender said, flashing him a small smile. She handed the newspaper back to him, and he gave it to Ron and Hermione, who were waiting to read it. He tried to finish his porridge, but found he couldn't relax his stomach; he was afraid the story about his detention would be all over school by lunchtime. He considered wearing gloves, but figured that would only draw more attention to his hands. No, he would just have to try to inconspicuously hide his hand all day, hope Lavender kept her word, and trust that a new topic of gossip would come along quickly.

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He heard the news two days later, from Hagrid, ironically. The huge man pulled Ron and him aside while the rest of the class were documenting the differences between malaclaws and lobsters. Hagrid's face looked like Christmas had come early as he told Harry and Ron that Umbridge had been sacked from the Ministry of Magic, and as he praised Harry quietly for telling the Daily Prophet about his detentions.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry whispered.

"Remus told me to tell you about Umbridge," Hagrid explained. "He said you had a 'vested interest' in the story - wasn't hard to figure out from there." Hagrid looked pointedly at Harry's right hand, and Harry quickly turned it over.

After class, Harry and Ron went to the library and headed to the table where Hermione sat alone.

"Hi, Harry," called a voice from a table nearby. Harry looked up to see Lavender and Parvati looking expectantly at him.

"Go on, mate," Ron said with a smirk. "You know you want to."

Harry glared at Ron, but the red-head only grinned cheekily in return. He rearranged his features into a smile before turning to join the two girls. As soon as he sat down, Parvati made her excuses and headed back to Gryffindor Tower, leaving Harry alone with Lavender.

"Perfect timing," she said with a brilliant smile. "I was just getting started on the DADA essay. Want to work on it together?"

"Oh, I get it," Harry said in a teasing tone. "You're only interested in the help I can give you in D.A.D.A." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Harry felt mortified that he was actually flirting with a girl and resolved to quit spending so much time with Seamus.

But Lavender only blushed prettily and lowered her eyes. "No, Harry," she whispered, "that's not all I'm interested in." Harry felt the familiar flutter in his stomach, the one he had felt when he'd fancied Cho.

Lavender opened her textbook to the essay topic. Harry thought about pulling out his own book, but realized it would be easier to scoot his chair closer to Lavender's and share her book. He quickly noticed other benefits as well; even though they weren't actually touching, the heat from her body warmed him inside and out.

As they discussed the essay, Harry found himself leaning increasingly closer to the dark-eyed girl. When their shoulders finally brushed, a thrill went through his entire body and his shoulder tingled for several minutes. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Lavender asked him about a phrase in the book, pointing it out with her finger. As she returned her hand to her lap, her fingers brushed against Harry's hand which was resting on his thigh. Harry's heart started beating wildly and his mind went blank as he reached into Lavender's lap and tentatively took her hand. He could feel the blush creeping up his face as he shot her a questioning look. The pink tinge returned to her cheeks and she gave him a small smile.

Harry returned his gaze to the book and tried to focus on the question she had asked him, but all he could think about was that he hoped Lavender didn't notice how his palm was sweating. He wondered why such simple physical contact with a girl could completely empty his mind.

"Harry?" said Lavender in a questioning tone. Harry breathed a sigh of relief that she had spoken, since he couldn't seem to engage his brain.

"Hmmm?" he answered, trying once again to decide what colour her eyes were.

"W-would you like to - maybe - take a moonlight walk tomorrow night?"

A moonlight walk ... she meant alone ... and in the dark! His heart began to beat even faster, and he couldn't help wondering why more blokes his age didn't die of heart attacks. He wasn't sure if he was feeling fear, excitement, or a combination of both.

When he didn't answer right away, Lavender looked away and continued, "I-I mean, I know you have Quidditch practice tonight, so I thought maybe we could do something tomorrow night..."

Harry's brain suddenly and painfully reengaged. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant he had Occlumency with Snape in the evening, and he couldn't tell Lavender. He tried to think quickly, but his mind was still sluggish. Finally, he stammered, "I-I can't. I'm sorry."

The dark eyes returned to his face full of hurt and embarrassment. She gently pulled her hand away, and Harry realized she thought he didn't want to be alone with her. "I'm sorry," he repeated quickly, turning his body to face her. "I want to, but I - have - an appointment."

"An appointment?" she repeated, her eyebrows drawn together sceptically. "With who?"

Harry shook his head and looked at his knees. "I can't tell you - sorry."

"You're going out with another girl." She slammed her book shut, shoved it into her bag, and started gathering her notes.

"No," Harry protested, thinking that one girl was more than he could handle. "It's nothing like that."

"A teacher? You have detention?"

"No." Harry shook his head in frustration. He was horrified to note that tears were forming in her eyes.

"I-if you don't want - to go out with me ..." she paused and sniffed a couple of times, "... j-just say so, Harry." She finished packing her bag and moved to stand. Harry panicked and grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving. He couldn't figure out how they had gone from cosily holding hands to arguing within minutes.

"Lavender," he said in a quiet but urgent voice, "please listen to me. I really want to go out with you, but I can't tomorrow, and I can't tell you why. Can we do it another time? I don't have anything Saturday night."

She sniffed again and regarded him. The hurt had faded from her eyes only to be replaced with rabid curiosity. "I don't understand why you can't tell me," she said. Harry cringed at the whiney tone. Then something seemed to click into place in her expression. "It has to do with You-Know-Who - with the war, doesn't it? Please tell me," she begged.

The desire to be alone with Lavender was strong, but his desire to protect the Order of the Phoenix was stronger. She hadn't told anyone about his detentions with Umbridge, but it was something entirely different to risk exposing Snape.

"Look, Lavender," he said, trying not to let his irritation show in his voice, "I like - hanging around with you, and there's nothing I'd rather do than go out with you, but if we're going to continue to - go out - you're going to have to accept that there's things - certain parts of my life that - I can't talk about. It's nothing personal. I just can't tell anyone." He took her hand and cradled it between both of his. "Now - please - can we go out Saturday night? A moonlight walk sounds great."

Lavender looked at their clasped hands for a moment and then deep into Harry's eyes. He felt the flutter in his stomach again. "Okay," she whispered, gently pulling her hand away. She stood and shouldered her bag, saying, "I've got to drop my books off before dinner - I'll see you later." She hesitated a moment, and then leaned over to drop a quick kiss on his cheek before rushing away.

Harry stared after her, bewildered that he could be irritated almost to the point of anger one minute and feeling as though his heart would burst with happiness the next. His hand went to his still-burning cheek involuntarily as a huge, silly grin spread across his face.

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After dinner Saturday evening, Harry went to his dormitory and changed into the one pair of jeans he owned that didn't have to be held up by a belt and a clean jumper that was only a little too large for him. Ron came in and smirked at him as he was tying his trainers. Harry took one look at his face and said, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Ron protested.

"You were going to," Harry said in a grumpy tone.

Ron only shrugged and his eyes became even more amused. As Harry brushed by him to leave, Ron whispered, "Have fun snogging!"

Harry gave him a look that he hoped was filled with distain, but he suspected his expression more closely resembled terror since Ron's smirk became even broader.

The moon was waxing away from its first quarter and hung low in the sky, making it look like an oddly-shaped yellow paper cut-out. Harry was able to relax as he and Lavender slowly made their way toward the lake hand in hand, chatting lightly about inconsequential matters. A rock the size of a boulder loomed in their path, and they pulled themselves up to sit on it. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they watched the moon's reflection glittering on the lake. Harry felt a shudder go through Lavender's arm, and he realized she was shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asked in a whisper, reluctant to break the silence.

"A little."

"Do you want to go in?"

She turned her dark eyes to him, and he saw a miniature moon reflected in each of them. "No."

Harry took a deep breath, screwed up his courage, and put his arm around her shoulders, enveloping her back in his cloak. She snuggled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry was sure that if she couldn't hear his heart pounding furiously, she could at least see vibrations against his ribs.

"The moon is beautiful tonight," she commented a little breathlessly.

"It'll be full in a few days," Harry said, thinking of Remus.

"How do you remember that?" she asked, turning her head to look him in the eye. "You're not even taking Astronomy this year."

He didn't feel like telling her his legal guardian was a werewolf, and her face was so close to his that it was driving all thought from his mind, so he simply closed the gap between them and brushed her lips with his.

It felt nice. He pulled his head back slightly and searched her face; she was smiling, so he assumed she had no objections, and he kissed her again. She put her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer, and he snaked his free arm around her waist.

When he had kissed Cho he hadn't been able to think at all, but he found that when he was kissing Lavender he was constantly wondering if he was doing it correctly. However, it didn't appear that his partner had any objections to his technique, if her enthusiasm was any indication.

They finally pulled back from each other, breathless, and he revelled in the feeling of her body heat as she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled against him. Between its urgent pounding and the swelling with happiness, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest. He tried to force himself to relax, but found his entire body was still tingling and tense. His thoughts were involuntarily drifting to topics that brought a blush to his cheeks, making him grateful for the semi-darkness.

"Harry?" whispered the girl in his arms, snapping his thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah?" He turned his head to face her and couldn't resist kissing her again.

"I really like you - a lot," she told him after they broke apart, causing a warm feeling to start in his stomach and slowly spread into his limbs. "But why do you have to be so mysterious?"

The warm feeling suddenly disappeared. "M-mysterious?" he stammered.

"Yeah," she whispered, turning her face toward him again. But this time he had no desire to kiss her. "Like where you go on Friday nights. And Tuesdays, for that matter."

"I can tell you about Tuesdays - I'm Professor Shacklebolt's assistant - I help him on Tuesday nights," he told her, using the cover story, but painfully aware that it was a lie.

"And why you keep having run-ins with You-Know-Who," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Is he still trying to kill you since he failed when you were a baby?"

Harry stifled a gasp at the accuracy of her assumptions. He was starting to get irritated, but wanted to try to salvage the evening without giving her any information, so he chose his words carefully. "It might bother him that he failed to kill me," he said with a shrug, trying to convey that he had no idea what was going through the Dark Lord's mind. "But my meetings with him are probably coincidence."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't believe it. I think you're training to fight him. But why?"

Harry schooled his face to show amusement and forced a laugh. "Come on, now. Why would a sixteen-year-old kid be training to fight Vo- You-Know-Who?"

He caught the embarrassment in her eyes before she turned her head to look at the lake. "Well, if you put it that way, it does sound ridiculous," she admitted.

It is ridiculous - I'm in a ridiculous situation, he thought to himself. He said, "Can we talk about something else? I don't want to talk about You-Know-Who." She turned her head back to face him, and he brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Or even better - let's not talk at all..." He gave her a long, lingering kiss, surprising himself with his boldness. Her lips and tongue started driving all thoughts of private lessons and Voldemort from his mind. He thoroughly enjoyed having this escape from the ridiculous reality that was his life and knew it would be ruined if he was forced to share any of his secrets with her.

She finally pulled back, gasping for air, and settled her head on his shoulder again. "But it still bugs me that Hermione and Ron know all your secrets," she said as if there hadn't been a pause in the conversation.

"They don't know everything," he said with a sigh, disappointed at being forced to remember the prophecy, the secret that he couldn't bring himself to tell his best friends.

"Don't bother to deny it," she said with narrow eyes.

"Of course they're going to know some things about me that you don't," Harry said, starting to feel exasperated. "They've been my best friends since I was eleven - they've lived through most of it with me. It's nothing personal."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because tears welled up in Lavender's eyes. "It is personal," she argued, pulling away from him. "You should be able to tell your girlfriend anything you can tell your mates."

"Girlfriend?" Harry asked, bewildered.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. She angrily pushed herself off the rock and slid to the ground. "Well - yeah," she spat, one hand on her hip, "unless you just go around snogging whomever you please." She turned and started striding quickly toward the castle. Harry sat still for a moment, stunned, and then slid down from the boulder to follow her.

"Lavender..."

She stopped and turned to face him. "Who were you snogging Friday night, Harry, when you were too busy to go out with me?" Without giving him a chance to answer, she turned her back on him and stormed to the castle.

"No one - I tried to tell you!" he shouted at her back, but she didn't even slow her stride. He angrily wondered why he had ever bothered with her as he followed her to the common room and watched her run up the stairs to her dormitory.

*************************************************************

Harry was propped in bed trying to read his Defence Against the Dark Arts text when Ron entered the room. "You're back early," he commented. "That's not good, is it?"

"Probably not," Harry answered, not really wanting to talk about his date. But he knew Ron wouldn't let it go, and he wasn't disappointed.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Did you kiss her?"

"Yes," said Harry, hoping Ron would take the hint from his succinct answer.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

Harry sighed and closed the book. Ron was his best friend, after all. "It would have been a lot better if she had kept her mouth shut."

"I think it's better when they open their mouths," Ron said with the superior air of experience, even though Harry knew for a fact that Hermione was the only girl he had ever kissed.

"That's not what I meant," Harry said with a blush. "She kept asking me questions about Voldemort and where I go in the evenings. She didn't understand why I can share things with you and Hermione, but not her. She thinks she's my girlfriend."

"Isn't she?"

Harry gave another heavy sigh. "I don't know," he said slowly. "She's pretty mad at me right now. Besides, I'm not sure if I can have a girlfriend. It just gives Voldemort another target, after all. And I have to have so many secrets." He set his book on the floor and shrugged. "I'm really too busy for a girlfriend, anyway. I'm barely keeping up with my homework." He suddenly felt very tired and gave a head-splitting yawn. "I think I'm going to bed."

Ron gave him a long look with an unreadable expression. "You know," he began slowly, "I'm knackered myself." He gave an exaggerated stretch and then began to rummage in his trunk, presumably for his pyjamas.

"It's early," Harry protested. "Go be with your girlfriend."

"Nah - it's okay." Ron looked away from Harry and said, "She's not expecting me back. When we came back to the common room a few minutes ago, she went up to her dormitory to get her Potions book. When she came back down, she told me Lavender was upstairs."

Harry's feelings of angst disappeared as he realized that Ron had chosen to come upstairs and talk to him instead of spending the remainder of the evening with Hermione. He caught his friend's eye and smiled gratefully. The boys changed and crawled into their beds, and despite declarations of sleepiness, talked late into the night.

*************************************************************

For the next few days, Lavender completely ignored Harry, and he found he didn't mind at all. Hermione kept shooting him sympathetic glances and looking like she was dying to speak, especially when she was walking hand-in-hand through the corridors with Ron. Harry was relieved that she restrained herself from asking him about the date, and assumed that Ron must have told her about it.

By Wednesday, Harry felt his anger abating and was actually pleased when Lavender sat beside him at lunch. They took seats together in Transfiguration as if by unspoken agreement. Harry found himself thinking of their kisses as he reached under the table to take her hand. They couldn't hold hands very long, since both needed their right hands to take notes, but Lavender's smile told him that she appreciated the gesture.

As the week went on, Harry and Lavender continued to sit together at meals and in the classes they shared. They spent their free time in the library or the common room, sometimes with Ron and Hermione and other times with Seamus and Parvati. Harry held Lavender's hand at every opportunity, and on Friday morning, when he walked her to Divination, he worked up the courage to quickly brush her lips with his, right in front of the entire sixth year N.E.W.T. level class.

Lavender never raised the issues they had argued about, much to Harry's relief. However, part of his mind wondered if she was only trying a different approach. He couldn't help speculating that she might worm her way into his affections and then start demanding answers once again. He also wondered if he would have the strength to resist telling everything if he let his emotions for her run too deep. So he tried to relax and enjoy her company, while at the same time keeping himself from caring too much.

On Saturday afternoon, Harry landed smoothly on the Quidditch pitch and shouldered his broom as practice ended. The rest of the team joined him straight away, Ron gave a few verbal pointers, and they all went into the changing rooms to shower before dinner.

Harry found himself lingering in the shower, trying to relax in the steaming water. He had a date with Lavender that night, another moonlight stroll, the first time they had been alone since their last disastrous outing. He wondered if he would be able to forget himself in blissful kissing, or if he would be slammed with ruthless questioning instead.

"Oi, Harry, trying to drown yourself?" Ron asked. Harry peered over the wall of the shower stall and saw his friend looking back at him, fully dressed, broom resting casually on his shoulder. "I'm going on up to dinner - Hermione's expecting me."

"Go on," Harry said in a tired voice. "I'll be along."

The changing room was empty by the time Harry finally turned off the shower. His entire body was ruddy as if with a strange fever and his fingers and toes were shrivelled like prunes. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went to retrieve his clothes and began to dress slowly.

A voice behind him startled him. "Accio, wand!" Harry turned and watched helplessly as his wand flew off the bench, across the room, and into the outstretched hand of Draco Malfoy.

Harry dropped his shirt on the floor and balled his hands into fists at his sides. "Give me my wand, Malfoy!" he growled.

The Slytherin leaned against the wall and twirled the wand between his thumb and forefinger. "When I'm ready," he said in a quiet but intense voice, his normal drawl gone. "First you're going to answer a question."

Harry felt very vulnerable without his wand, and the anger already burning in his stomach started creeping upward, making his chest tighten and his head pound. He strode toward Malfoy, but the blond brandished his own wand, causing the Gryffindor to stop dead. "I'm not answering anything," said Harry, his voice growing louder. "Give me back my wand!"

Malfoy took a step toward Harry, but the bespectacled boy held his ground. "You will tell me what I want to know," said Malfoy, his voice growing quieter, "and you will tell me the truth, or I will make good on the promise I made last spring."

The Gryffindor thought quickly. The Slytherin had threatened to kill him last spring, but if Malfoy had really intended to hurt him, he'd already had plenty of opportunity to do so. If he could keep him talking, maybe he could think of a way out of this. He folded his arms. "What do you want to know?"

"I want you to tell me what happened that night at the Ministry." Harry thought he saw a flicker of pain in the grey eyes, but he could have been mistaken. "I want to know why my father is in Azkaban."

Suddenly, the details of the discussion he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape came flooding back, and he felt his stomach clench at the image of Narcissa Malfoy bleeding after being tortured. His roller-coaster relationship with Lavender had driven the conversation completely from his mind.

"Potter," Malfoy urged, taking another step forward.

"Your father's in Azkaban because he's a Death Eater, Malfoy! Don't tell me you didn't know that. Or didn't you know that following a murderous psychopath is illegal in this country?"

"People don't go to prison just because of their political views, Potter," Malfoy retorted, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"You've got to be kidding!" Harry exclaimed with a bitter laugh. "You think your father just goes to pep rallies? He's a murderer, Malfoy!"

"My father didn't kill your godfather, Potter!" Malfoy spat between clenched teeth. "Admit it - they just put Father in Azkaban because they thought they were protecting the Boy-Who-Lived. As if the Dark Lord would spare a thought for the likes of you."

Harry just stared at him, feeling stunned. He couldn't believe the son of a leading Death Eater really knew nothing about the prophecy. However, he wasn't about to tell his nemesis something he hadn't even shared with his best friends, so he turned his attention to Malfoy's original question.

"You want to know what happened that night?" he said, taking step toward the Slytherin, his hands balled into fists at his sides again. "Fine. Your 'upstanding-member-of-the-wizarding-community father' was in charge of the other Death Eaters, who outnumbered us two-to-one. He o-" Harry swallowed and forced his voice to remain steady. "Your father ordered the other Death Eaters to kill my friends. That makes him a murderer. He's responsible for Sirius's death and for almost killing Hermione." Harry's tone dared the blond to defy him.

A flicker of surprise shot across Malfoy's face, but it was gone in an instant, and his grey eyes resumed their cold anger. "You're lying! My father went to the Ministry all the time to talk to Fudge and other high-ranking officials. He wasn't there to fight a battle with a bunch of kids."

"Well, you're certainly right about that," Harry retorted in a sarcastic tone. "Your father wasn't there to fight a battle. He was there to take what Voldemort wanted and kill us."

"You're lying!" Malfoy shouted again, taking a step forward with his wand levelled at Harry's chest. "You'd better start telling me the truth, you filthy half-blood, or you're dead!"

"Bit ironic, you people obsessing about pure blood all the time, considering your Dark Lord had a Muggle father," Harry said recklessly, ignoring the death threat. "I'm more of a pure-blood than he is."

"How dare y--you take that back!" the Slytherin sputtered.

"Can't," Harry said with a grin. "It's true. He told me himself."

Malfoy's eyes threatened to bug out of his head and his face was almost as red as Harry's Quidditch robes. "I'll kill you!" he screamed, taking another step forward. His wand was only inches from Harry's chest now. Harry had never seen him so angry, and it occurred to him that if he hadn't already faced Voldemort numerous times he might be frightened of the Slytherin in this state. However, his Gryffindor boldness took over.

"You don't have the nerve."

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry's mouth and eyes widened in shock just before the green light hit him and everything went black.