Inrevocabilis Cantanem

Chapter 11: Who Are You?

There was no point in telling Draco to calm down this time. Harry himself was anything but calm. They had tried to extinguish the fires, but to no avail. Nor could the headstones be magicked into their former shapes. Finally, screaming in frustration, Draco mounted Harry's broom, barked for the Gryffindor to get on, and, despite his stinging cheek, flew as quickly as he could to the castle.

Presently, Draco was pacing in front of the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office. Occasionally, he would stop, growl the name of some sort of candy, and huff disgustedly when the gargoyle didn't move.

"Draco," Harry began softly, "we can't stay here all day."

Draco glanced at Harry, paused in front of the door, muttered, "Jelly beans," grumbled, and then continued pacing.

"You tried that one already, love," Harry said softly. "Maybe we can leave him a note or something. We can send Persephone and Hedwig."

"I. Am. Not. Leaving. Not until I see Dumbledore," Draco snapped.

"Sweetheart," Harry reasoned, "we haven't seen Dumbledore since before term started. What makes you think he's up there now?"

"If I get in, Harry, then I won't leave until he gets back. Lollipop. Fuck!"

"Tried that one, too," Harry muttered.

Draco stopped pacing. "You know, darling boyfriend of mine, you could, oh, I don't know, help me!"

Draco was standing in front of the gargoyle. Harry walked over to him.

"Look," he began, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. If you want to pace this corridor all night, I'll stand right beside you, baby, okay? I'm just saying there's no way in hell we're going to guess the password. It could be anything from Everlasting Gobstoppers to Pixie Stix."

The gargoyle sprang to the side, the wall opening up behind it. The two boys looked at each other in amazement.

"Harry, I was serious about not leaving until he gets back. You can go if you want."

Harry shook his head and reached out for Draco's hand.

Draco, smiling gratefully, grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him onto the revolving stairway.

The two expected to be greeted by an empty office. What they did not expect was what they found.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, deep in thought. In front of him was a rainbow of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The beans had been matched by color and several piles of color-divided beans sat atop the wizened old wizard's desk. Beside the desk were several empty Bertie Bott boxes.

Draco raised his eyebrow quizzically, casting a very small, curious smile at Harry.

"Um, Professor," he said timidly, slowly approaching the desk, Harry in tow, as Draco was still holding his hand.

Dumbledore distractedly held up his hand. He placed one more bean with its like-colored compatriots and smiled softly.

He waved his hand, and a few of the beans resorted themselves. He waved his hand again. The beans were still. His smile widened. He consulted a piece of parchment that sat on his lap. He held it at eye level, muttering softly as he checked his notes against the piles of beans that sat on his desk.

"There," he said with an air of satisfaction. "I have finally figured this out, I do believe. Last time, I did not keep such careful notes, but this time...this time I think everything is in proper order." He smiled wisely at the boys. "This," he said, holding up a pink bean, "is cotton candy." He put the bean in his mouth and smiled with a contented smack. "Beautiful. Beautiful. This," he held up an ivory-colored bean, "is a toasted marshmallow." He tossed the bean into his mouth and danced about a little in his chair. "Marvelous. You see," he addressed Harry and Draco, "I have figured it all out. I can now simply avoid the flavors I do not like. I have won, Bertie. You said I would not, but I have bested you, my friend. Match point: Albus Dumbledore. Ah. And this," he held up a black bean, "I do believe is licorice." Again, he placed the bean in his mouth, smacked his lips, and squealed delightedly. "Hee hee! Brilliant. So this," he held up a light brown bean, "is toffee." He placed the bean in his mouth, chewed, and then furrowed his brow. "Tripe." He sighed. He slammed his elbows against the desk and burrowed his forehead into his long, wispy fingers. Grumbling, he swept the beans off of his desk. They scattered themselves about. "Oh, well," he sighed again. Looking smartly at Draco and Harry he said, "You guessed my password?" He smiled. It was more a declaration than a question.

"Er, yes, sir," Harry said.

"Sit."

Harry and Draco moved to take seats in front of Dumbledore's desk. As he was sitting, Draco removed a bean that had fallen into the chair.

"Um," he said and placed it on Dumbledore's desk.

"That," Dumbledore said, his eyes lighting up, "is crème brulée." He popped the bean into his mouth. He quickly spit it out. "No. No, it is not. You two are up here why? My, that is a nasty looking welt, Mr. Malfoy. As the whole of the school knows what happened, there is no harm, I think, in mending that bruise."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, running his hand over his cheek. The welt disappeared, but the pain still lingered for a bit.

"So, you know?" Harry chimed in. "What's going to be done?"

Dumbledore's face grew grim. "That, Harry, I have not yet decided. Your professors do not like to punish and reprimand you -"

"That's evident from Draco's face," Harry interrupted.

" - and I," continued Dumbledore as if Harry hadn't spoken, "do not like to have to punish and reprimand them. Have faith, Draco and Harry, that I will deal accordingly with this situation. I can say no more than that. However, Professor Snape's behavior is not the only reason for this visit, is it not?

"Professor, sir, where have you been?" Draco asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah. I think that you would have learned by now not to ask questions to which you know the answers will be vague."

Draco smiled a bit. "It was worth a shot. It's just that, well, this morning..."

"I am aware," Dumbledore said, his expression again turning dour, "of what has been occurring in the castle - both during the break and afterward." He gave a look of reprimand to both of the boys but said nothing more. "I have changed the House banners once again. They cannot be altered. There is more?"

"My mother..." Draco began. A sob caught in his throat. "My mother...my aunt..."

Dumbledore nodded his head.

"Did you know?" Harry asked, rubbing Draco's back.

"I found out just recently. The Ministry is investigating this as we speak. Your father," Dumbledore added, addressing Draco, "is heading the investigation."

"So, I'll never know who did this?! That isn't fair! Why? Why is he heading the investigation?"

"And also by now I thought that you would have learned not to waste your breath asking questions to which you already know the answers."

Draco sighed heavily.

"Let us," Dumbledore said, "handle what is currently in our grasps to handle. Harry, you will still be required to go to Potions class."

Harry started to protest.

"This is not negotiable," Dumbledore stated firmly. "Cause no problems. Do your work. Pass your NEWT for that class. Am I making myself understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry grumbled.

"Draco, Professor Snape wants you removed from his House. That is not his decision to make. You will remain in Slytherin; however, you are being removed from the Potions class. If you fail your NEWT, which you will still be required to take, it will be of your own doing. I suggest that you find a way to keep up with the rest of your classmates."

Draco scowled. "Sir, if I may be honest, I feel as if I'm being treated unfairly," he complained.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore said. He seemed to be humoring Draco.

"Yes, sir. It is."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. He stood, walked toward Draco, and waved his hand. Draco's chair pivoted so that he was facing the old wizard.

"And if I may be honest, Draco," Dumbledore began. "You, young man, are impetuous, arrogant, and without common sense at times. I will not punish you for this. I cannot punish you for this. You will have to learn. I thought that by being made Head Boy, you would have rectified this flaw within yourself. You did not. You must learn, Draco, to be wiser. Your life will be filled with difficulties of your own making will you not learn your lesson."

Draco's lip quivered. He lowered his head.

"There, there," Dumbledore soothed. "I do not wish to treat you, as you say, 'unfairly.' You have the ability to be anything of your choosing. This world in which we live, Draco, does not revolve around you. It does not revolve around Harry. You must find a way to live with others without manipulating them to suit your needs. I have, over the past nearly two years, watched you grow. I have watched you become compassionate. I have seen you leave behind the shackles that once so tightly bound you. But you have not yet let them go completely. Learn that lesson, Draco, before it is too late."

He patted Draco on the shoulder paternally.

"Is there anything more?" he asked, looking from Draco to Harry.

"No, Professor," Harry said. He was looking at the slumped back of his lover, wanting so badly to know what Draco was thinking or feeling.

"Then you may go."

The two stood and began to leave.

"Just a moment," Dumbledore called.

Harry and Draco turned to him.

"There is more. You are tired of fighting, I know. Draco, you know it is not over. I can do what I can. Those who love you can do what they can. Ultimately, it is yours and Harry's choice to make. There is powerful, ill-intentioned magic being cast about Hogwarts. I do not know who is responsible. I am trying my hardest to find that out. I can help you, Harry and Draco, but I would appreciate your assistance in return." The wizened wizard winked. "There is more to focus on outside of the realm of love into which you two have so painfully stepped. Use that love. Do not be used by it. I think Miss Granger, Harry, was right when she told you that it is time to be concerned. The time to be concerned, my young friends, is at its peak."

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

Harry and Draco walked from Dumbledore's office to the Entrance Hall in complete silence. Harry wanted so badly to speak with Draco; to know what the blond was thinking. He knew, however, that Draco needed some time alone in his own head, and even if Harry had tried Legilimency to figure it out, Draco would block him out. He settled instead on the comforting feel of Draco's hand in his own.

The silence of their journey was broken by the sound of utensils scraping against plates and the chatter of the students. It was dinnertime.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked softly.

Draco shook his head. He had led Harry to the entrance of the dungeons. "Can't eat," he muttered thickly. "Besides, they should be on dessert by now. It's pretty late."

Harry nodded softly. "You okay?"

Draco smiled wryly. "Been better. I'll live." He paused, biting his bottom lip. "Harry," he began, but was interrupted.

Two Sixth-Year Hufflepuff girls were walking out of the Great Hall. They giggled and whispered to one another as they caught sight of Harry and Draco.

Smirking, Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry passionately. As he pulled away, he looked at the two gawking girls and winked. They giggled riotously and rushed back into the Great Hall.

Harry smiled a little, running his finger along the now-healed bruise that was just less than a half an hour ago violently visible on his boyfriend's cheek.

"So, now we're truly official, huh," he said softly. "You're such a prick, Malfoy."

Draco chuckled. "Girls like boy-love," he said knowingly. "They're going to go to bed tonight and work themselves up into a lather thinking about the beautiful Draco Malfoy servicing his oh so famous lover."

Harry's smile wavered.

"I know what he said, Harry," Draco said, anticipating Harry's thoughts. "I was listening. I don't know how, okay. I don't know how to not be a cocky git."

Harry nodded sympathetically. Asking Draco to drop his arrogance would be the same as asking Harry to stop trying to save the world.

Behind them, they could hear the scraping of the benches, signaling the end of the meal. Draco grumbled, and then said, "Let's go to the library. We need to talk about something, and I don't feel like being the source of amusement right now. I don't trust the Room. Not while we're alone, anyway. The library should be pretty empty, don't you think?"

As Harry nodded in agreement, Draco grabbed his hand. The two nearly sprinted to the library, ignoring Argus Filch's yelling at them to stop running and scuffing up the floors.

Once in the library, Harry and Draco found an isolated table and sat down.

Harry noticed Hermione glance up at them from another remote table. She looked at them, a look of mingled disgust and curiosity on her face, before turning her back to the two of them and continuing her studying.

"So, what's up?" Harry whispered in the quiet of the library.

Draco cleared his throat. "Dumbledore said that I knew it wasn't over. I haven't told you this, Harry, because, well, I didn't really think there was a need to. We killed Voldemort. I thought that was what it all meant. I didn't think that it would continue on. I thought we had fulfilled everything."

"Fulfilled everything?"

"Just listen, love, okay. When I was 15, right after our fifth year ended, and my father - Lucius - had been released from Azkaban, Voldemort came to the Manor. I didn't know then about the whole row in the Department of Mysteries. I mean, I knew it had happened, but I didn't know exactly what it was about. I wouldn't know that until later. But there I was, facing this man who made my mother tremble. He told Lucius that I was a blood traitor, and Lucius told him to kill me. Just like that. Kill his only son.

"Voldemort saw something in my eyes that day. He said your name, and I thought about you. I don't know exactly what I was thinking, Harry, aside from worry, but it wasn't something he liked. He broke two of my fingers. He ordered me to kill you. I passed out, and when I came to, my mother sent me to Sirius Black's house. It was there that I met Tonks for what I thought was the first time in my life. It was there that I learned about the prophecy."

"The one about Voldemort and me?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry. The one about you and me. Somehow my father found out about it as well, though I'm not sure if he knows what it says. Dumbledore told me. I remember clear as day what the prophecy said."

Harry licked his lips. "Tell me."

Draco smiled. Harry had demanded that Draco tell him in the same manner that Draco had demanded Dumbledore. The demand was less demanding and more pleading.

"It says," Draco began, "'They with powers to exonerate the world of Darkness and he with powers to bring the world to its knees have been born. The one, born of darkness, the darkest day of the year, will be taught to uphold the most sinister of intentions. The other, born of light, the day when harvests were first reaped, shall be manifest as darkness's rival. Together, they will be the one's other: the darkness's light...the light's darkness. Through love only will the light shadow the dark...will the one with powers strong enough to annihilate light in the world be defeated. They with powers to rid the world of Darkness will be born as the harvests are reaped...and as the day is its darkest...at the genesis of a new decade.' You, Harry, are the darkness's light. I am the light's darkness. We were destined to be from the day we were born."

"It's destiny," Harry whispered, recalling Draco's remark at the graveyard.

"It is," Draco said, his eyes soft.

"And this other, this one that can rid the world of light, isn't Voldemort?"

Draco shook his head.

"I thought so. I'm not so sure anymore. All I know is this: Together, you and I have the power to rid the world of this other. I thought, Harry...I swore it was Voldemort. That's why I never told you. I never thought we'd...That it would..." Draco fumbled for words.

Harry reached across the table, holding Draco's hand gently.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothed.

"No, Harry, you don't." Tears began to form in the blonde's eyes. "You don't. I fell in love with you. I fell in love with you so very long ago. Maybe when the prophecy was spoken. Maybe when we played truth or dare. Maybe the first day I ever met you. And maybe I didn't tell you about the prophecy because I almost lost you once - when we were in that ruddy courtyard - and if I didn't tell you, then maybe it wouldn't come true, and I wouldn't have to bear the thought of possibly losing you again."

Harry couldn't speak. He quickly stood, taking the chair that was next to Draco, and kissing his cheeks softly, the saline of the Slytherin's tears coating Harry's dry lips.

"Dumbledore said," Draco said around the emotion that was building up inside of him, "that you can't change your fate. I didn't want to believe that. I have to now. This person, Weasley or whoever it is, is just toying with us right now. He's just showing us what he can do. If he has the power to rid the world completely of light, Harry, he's much more dangerous than Voldemort ever was. Just think about it: People are still afraid to say Voldemort's name, Harry. That evil bastard is dead, and people still refuse to call him by name. If he could instill that much fear into the hearts of our entire world, just think what this other person could be capable of."

Harry nodded soberly. The thought chilled him, and he felt goose bumps pop up over his skin. Draco instinctively rubbed Harry's arm.

"Okay," Harry said, the hardened tone of one who's used to fighting edging its way into his voice, "let's figure out what we're going to do. We're going to need help. I've never done any of this on my own. We've gotta get some power on our side, even if you and I are the only ones who can take this bastard down."

"Well," Draco began after a pause, "Ginny's good with Charms. She's actually quite amazing. Hexes, too. Seamus is pretty much average all the way around, right?"

Harry nodded in agreement. He added, "But he's pretty fearless. He got an 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, actually. And Dean's great at Transfiguration. I think he's even better than Hermione."

At the mention of Hermione's name, Harry and Draco simultaneously looked to where she was sitting.

After a moment's silence, Draco began, "Hate to admit it, Harry, but we need her. Granger's got more knowledge packed in that head of hers than all of the books in this room."

Harry nodded grudgingly.

"So," Draco said, "I'll talk to Dumbledore and see if we can get passes to meet when we need to, and you," he sighed heavily, "you talk to Granger."

Harry again nodded grudgingly. He continued to stare at the back of Hermione's head as Draco looked down to where his own fingers were tracing the lines of Harry's palms.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, meeting Harry's gaze. She raised her eyebrows quizzically, watched Draco playing with Harry's hand, and then gazed back at Harry icily before again turning her back.

Harry sighed. There was no way in hell he was going to convince her to help him do anything.

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

"What on earth are you two doing? Get out!" came Madam Pince's whispered shriek.

Harry and Draco woke, quickly sat up, and untangled their limbs.

They had continued talking quietly, but a rush of fifth years made their way into the library to study for their OWLs, and Harry and Draco had quickly moved themselves and their conversation to one of the private study rooms.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "We must have fallen asleep."

"That better have been all you were doing," Madam Pince reprimanded. "The library's closing, and you two had better get back to your common rooms."

The boys quickly stood, both apologizing, and made their way out of the library. Harry had glanced into the corner in which Hermione had sat studying, hoping to talk to her while he had the nerve, but she had already gone.

Draco kissed Harry gently as they parted ways and watched the lithe movements of the smaller boy as he ascended the staircases in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Sighing, Draco made his way to the Slytherin dungeons, praying silently that he didn't bump into anyone on the way to his room. His prayers were almost answered. He was only a few steps from his room when Millicent Bulstrode stepped out of the shadows.

"Millie," he said tersely.

"Been waiting for you," Millicent returned.

"I see that."

"Can we talk privately?" she asked.

"It's not a great time," Draco sighed. "Honestly."

"It won't take long. Please."

Draco sighed again. He unlocked his door and opened it for her. As she stepped inside, Draco glanced down the hallway toward Snape's private rooms and office. He saw the black eyes of his Head of House peeking through the nearly closed door.

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco hissed in a whisper. The door snapped shut.

Sighing for what had to be the millionth time that day, Draco walked into his room.

"What can I do for you, Miss Bulstrode?" he asked coolly, leafing through papers that sat on his desk, hoping that she would get the hint.

"Are you and Potter...I mean, have you two been...you know?"

"Were you in the Hall for breakfast this morning, Millicent?" he continued rifling through papers, not looking at her.

She nodded her head, her eyes filled with pain. "Yes."

"Then you know the answer, don't you?" he said somewhat impatiently, still not looking at her.

Again she nodded. "But, why, Draco?"

Draco smirked, turning to face the sniveling girl in front of him. He was a house on fire, his eyes full of fury, resembling the smoke closest to the flames.

"Why does it matter, Millicent? Why do you care? Why do any of you? What am I to you? You all turned your backs on me a year ago. Do you remember that? Then Voldemort dies, and everybody's not afraid to just fucking be who they are. I'm no longer a blood traitor, right? So, as long as your parents don't have to answer to some sadistic arsehole, we can be friends. We can be lovers. But then it changes again, doesn't it, Millie? 'Cause now I'm just some queer that all the girls want to convince isn't gay, and all the boys either want to beat the shit out of or fuck and then beat the shit out of. Why does what I do and with whom I do it matter to you at all, Millicent?"

Millicent had started crying. "I loved you, Draco."

Draco groaned. "Ah, Millie." He pulled her into his arms, her body quivering. "Millie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I wish I'd known. I...I don't pay attention, Millie. I didn't mean to hurt you. My heart...my heart has always belonged to someone else."

He kissed her forehead gently.

"I'm sure I always knew that," she said softly. "I guess I just hoped..." her voice trailed off. She pulled gently out of his arms. "I just want you to know that despite, I'll...well, I'll be here for you."

Draco smiled sincerely at the girl before him. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"I appreciate that. Thank you, Millie."

She smiled softly. "I'll let you get back to your work," she said, turning and letting herself out.

Draco stared silently at the closed door, and then huffed, throwing himself to his bed. His ribs connected with something hard, and he pulled the covers back on his bed.

He held Joliet's box much the same way he had when he'd first discovered it, turning it around in his hands. He'd read a few of the entries from his mother's diary, but he hadn't paid much attention to Joliet's. He had been meaning to, he realized, which was why it was in his bed.

Pulling his sweater over his head and removing his pants, Draco climbed under his sheets and opened Joliet's box. He gingerly removed her diary, turning it over in his hands.

The date on the first page was January 1^st, 1987.

"She must have gotten a new one every year," Draco thought. "Mum must have saved this one...this is the year she died."

He scanned the first few entries, most of them the stuff of teenage angst, until something caught his eye.

February 26^th, 1987

He's teaching the Baby Dragon Legilimency - correction: he's got a wizard who's actually skilled in Legilimency teaching Draco. Gods, the kid's only six years old. When I told Aunt Cissy that I think Draco should be allowed to make his own decisions, she agreed...then she went pale and told me to never say that to Lucius. How dare anyone go against the all-powerful Lucius Malfoy? He's such a fraud. I can't wait till I'm of age. Four more months, then I leave the Malfoys and all their stupid ideals. Except Draco. I can't live without Draco. I wish he were mine. He follows me around all the time, but I don't think he's annoying. He's beautiful. I just wish Lucius would let him be.

Draco continued flipping through the journal, his eyes moistening. He read every entry until the words started to bleed together and sleep found him.

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

Harry was silently praying the same thing at the same time that Draco was praying, but his prayers were anything but answered.

As he entered the Gryffindor common room, a silence so still and eerie entered his ears that his skin tingled. A dozen pairs of eyes greeted him as he walked through the room.

He glanced about quickly for any sign of Ginny, Dean, or Seamus, but saw none of them. He thought of Draco and his nonchalance and decided to adopt his boyfriend's demeanor.

"You know," he began, "seems like every year I get whispered about. Anyone actually have the courage to say to me whatever it is you're saying behind my back?"

He waited for a response that he knew wasn't going to come. Many people dropped their eyes, refusing to meet his dogged gaze.

"Didn't think so," he spat bitterly. "Then bugger off, the lot of you."

He turned and walked to his room, pleased to find Ginny lying on his bed, Dean sitting on his trunk, and Seamus pacing the floor.

"Hey, baby," Ginny smiled, bounding up and leaping into Harry's arms.

Harry held her warm body appreciatively. He looked over her shoulder to see Dean and Seamus both earnestly smiling at him.

"We were getting worried about you, mate," Seamus said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but then we just figured that you were out making more dirty movies."

Harry groaned. "Gods, what a day. You won't believe what happened."

He filled the trio in on the rest of the day: the burning cemetery; the visit to Dumbledore; and his and Draco's conversation in the library, excepting the prophecy.

"So," he finished, "we're figuring we can meet and try and figure out what's going on. I mean, if Dumbledore's worried, something big's brewing."

The trio nodded their heads soberly.

"When will we meet?" Dean asked.

"As soon as possible," Harry answered. "Draco's going to talk to Dumbledore on Wednesday since he can't go to Potions. Hopefully we can get passes to roam without trouble from prefects and whatnot in case the meetings last past curfew, and we can meet that night." Harry groaned. "There's just the matter of Hermione."

"What about her?" came Seamus.

"We'd need her help," Ginny said. "She's brilliant."

"Well," Seamus suggested, "we could try to talk to her."

Harry sighed. "No. I need to do this. I at least owe it to her to talk to her myself."

"Well, whatever you need, Harry, just ask," Ginny said softly, Dean and Seamus quickly agreeing.

After a moment's silence, Dean said what they were all thinking: "I hope it's not Ron. Who else could it be, though?"

Ginny dropped her head, shaking it with consternation. Harry pulled her to him, squeezing her tightly.

There was only one way to deal with evil of this scale, they all knew. Death was the only answer.

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

Both Harry and Draco were pleased to note the lack of interest in their entrance into the Great Hall for breakfast on Wednesday morning. The day before, there had been murmurs at each of the meals and curious or revolted glances their way, but the interest had died down some by that morning.

Later that day, Draco walked Harry to the Potions classroom.

"Well," Harry said as they stood across from the door waiting for the bell to ring, "here goes the end to my decent day."

"It'll be fine," Draco assured him. "Just do as Dumbledore says and don't cause any trouble. You've got my Potions notes, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Then you should be able to answer any questions he throws your way. It'll be okay. You should pair up with Millicent; she's a good partner."

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

"Read Joliet's diary some more. I'm enjoying getting to know her. I'll meet you right after class. Take good notes, love, please."

Harry nodded, and then said, "No. No, I can't meet you right after class. I need to talk to Hermione."

"Oh, that's right," Draco said as the bell rang. He smiled at Harry's furrowed brow. "It'll be fine, Harry. Really." He kissed Harry softly.

"Aw," Ron said, holding the door open for Neville, "wookit the widdle wove birds."

Neville laughed.

"Need some masturbation material, Weasley?" Draco smirked.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Ron countered.

"Sorry, darlin,'" Draco smiled, squeezing Harry's hand. "I'm spoken for. If things don't work out, though, I'll keep you in mind."

He and Harry chuckled as Ron, red-faced, walked into the classroom. Hugging Harry, Draco said, "I'll see you in a bit. Chin up."

"Enjoy your reading," Harry called as Draco trotted toward the Slytherin Dungeons.

Draco threw himself on his bed and picked up Joliet's diary. She was a consistent journal-keeper. There was an entry for every day. He was saddened to note that there weren't many entries left - not only because he enjoyed reading what she wrote, but also because the end of this particular diary meant the end of her young life.

He had been reading for about forty-five minutes when he gasped aloud. He sat bolt upright and reread the entry.

April 6^th, 1987

What Dumbledore said today about the Malfoys shocked the hell out of me. It's something I should have known. Actually, it's something I think I've always known. I thought I was an Animagus, but Dumbledore has assured me that that is not at all the case. I wonder if Lucius knows. He's got to! That's got to be why he's always on about blood purity, and why he's destroyed all of the information about Anguis. Oh, I'm so stupid!

Later...same day...

On a hunch, I asked Lucius about grandfather, and he told me to mind my business. He demanded I tell him how I even knew his name. He said I disgrace him. I don't care. I only hope that Draco disgraces him, too. If he does, that will mean he's on a good path. He'll be a Slytherin when he gets to Hogwarts, I just know it. The Hat probably won't even feel any need to sort him. I only hope he can see the goodness in his heart. He's just like Tonks. They're such kooks when they're together. I just want to tell my Baby Dragon that he's not what he's been told he is. He never will be.

Draco closed the diary and, with it still in his hands, hurriedly began the trek to Dumbledore's office.

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

Potions class went better than Harry had anticipated. Snape hardly looked in his direction, let alone spoke to him. He was pleased to note that not only was Millicent a good partner, but she was actually treating him like a human being.

When the bell rang, Harry said a quick goodbye to Millicent - who surprised him by giving him a small hug - packed his bag, and jogged to the back of the classroom.

"Hermione?"

She looked up disinterestedly at Harry and continued putting away her Potions ingredients and sliding her books into her bag.

"May I, um," Harry fidgeted, "I mean, can we...I need, er...um...to..."

"Spit it out, Harry," she said, her tone dry ice.

She stood, tossing the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

"Are you...are you going to the library?" Harry shook his head. "Smooth, Harry," he thought. How was it that she used to be so easy to talk to?

"Am I going...to the library?" Hermione repeated as if she were speaking to someone who had repeatedly been hit in the head with blunt objects. "Am I...were you standing here blubbering for a half an hour because you want to know if I'm going to the library?"

She walked out of the classroom. Harry quickly followed.

"No," he said, catching up to her fevered pace. "No. I needed to ask you something. I...I need your help. Could you...could you stop? Please? Hermione."

"What?" she spat, stopping. Her raised voice drew inquisitive stares. "What more can I do for you? What do you need, Harry?" Her face was a vehement shade of red.

Harry felt horribly guilty. He didn't want her to hate him forever. He didn't want her to think that he would only talk to her when he needed something.

"Oh," she smiled sardonically, "I know. You want to know if I'll be in the library so that you and Malfoy can play footsie and make out in front of me some more, right? Bad enough I had to watch you fucking him again - this time on several screens - you have to flaunt it in front of me! You already broke my heart, Harry. Could you please stop shitting on it?"

With a huff, she continued walking, ignoring the whispers that assaulted her back.

"Give 'em somethin' to talk about, Hermione," Harry muttered.

Again, he quickly followed her, but this time he decided to wait until the two of them were relatively out of the earshot of others to approach her.

When they had exited the Entrance Hall and were heading toward the staircases that would take them to Gryffindor Tower, Harry halted Hermione again.

"Leave me alone, Harry. Just go."

"Look, Hermione," Harry began. "I didn't mean for any of this. I thought I made that clear over the holidays."

She scoffed.

"And we weren't 'playing footsie.' We were talking about what I wanted to talk to you about now."

"I'm listening," she quipped.

"No, you're not. Hermione, this is important. So, just get it out. Okay? Just yell at me or hit me some more or whatever. I fucked up. I didn't mean to break your heart, and I don't mean to be shitting on it. But I respect that that's how you feel."

"How noble of you."

"I want us to be friends," he pleaded. "Please. Can't we just...I don't know...can't we just - "

"Pretend it never happened?" she finished. "You want me to be your friend? You're standing here now asking for my help and telling me that you want to be friends? You lied to me, Harry! You looked me straight in my eyes and lied to me for I don't know how long. And I know I'm not perfect. And I thank you for not throwing the whole Ron thing back in my face. I'm sure it's no different. But I didn't take his virginity. I didn't tell him I loved him. I didn't ask him to marry me, Harry, all while I'm fucking some other guy!"

She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Harry didn't know what to say. He apologized.

"You're always sorry, Harry," Hermione groaned. "You've been sorry all year."

"Sorry," he said.

Hermione's lips twitched into a small, sickened smile. "You're pathetic."

The two stood in silence for a moment, warily regarding each other. Finally, Hermione said, "I am listening."

"You were right. I wasn't concerned about the Amulet and Ron and...and...well, a lot of things. I wasn't concerned, Hermione. I'm not going to make excuses. I know why. You...you know why, too. But I am now. It may be too late, but I am concerned now."

"What does that have to do with me?" Hermione's cool tone and disinterested gaze returned.

"We - me, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and...and Draco - we want to figure this out. We can't do it without you. Do you think you can meet us in the Room of Requirement tonight so we can talk this whole thing through?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Please, Hermione." Harry was begging. "I know you don't owe me anything, but I need you."

"Funny," she muttered, an uncharacteristic smirk on her face. "Dunno, Harry. I'll see what I can do."

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

"Maybe I'll stop using the names of candies as my passwords," Dumbledore smiled as Draco strode into his office. A grim note in his voice, he questioned, "Did you see this?"

He tossed a copy of The Daily Prophet across his desk.

An agitated-looking Lucius Malfoy paced the cover of the paper. Behind him were the ruined remains of the cemetery where Joliet and Narcissa had once been buried.

"'Lucius Malfoy, a respected member of the community'," Draco read. He scoffed. "A respected member, huh? '...is investigating the vandalism that took place Monday at the final resting sites of his beloved wife and sister. Mr. Malfoy took loving care of this remote location, and the blatant disregard for his painstaking efforts to preserve the memories of his dearly departeds comes as a mighty blow. Mr. Malfoy is quoted as saying, "I don't know if this was a childish prank or something more darkly motivated, but the perpetrators shall be punished to the full extent of the law." Mr. Malfoy intends on moving the bodies to his Manor...' Can you believe this rubbish?" Draco spat, throwing the paper down. "I'll never get them back."

"No," Dumbledore agreed, "but you have them in spirit."

"And in this," Draco said, holding up Joliet's diary.

"Ah, yes. I heard about your excursion to Malfoy Manor. Very wise of you, Draco."

Draco hung his head slightly, but not before noticing the wearied, weathered appearance of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"Are you well, sir?" Draco asked apprehensively.

"Just fine, Draco. Just fine. Let me see that book."

Draco handed Joliet's diary to Dumbledore.

"Ah, Joliet," Dumbledore said longingly. "Pity. Pity what happened to you."

He thumbed through her journal with a small, sad smile.

"Sir," Draco broke into Dumbledore's reverie. "Sir, if you'll read that passage I've marked."

He watched as Dumbledore flipped through the book. He was silent as the old professor read the passage.

"Ah ha," Dumbledore said. "How I remember this day."

"Could you tell me, sir, what you said to her?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I cannot. I will, however, show you."

Dumbledore stood and walked to his shelf. Retrieving his Pensieve, he returned to the desk.

"You know how this works," he said, placing the Pensieve on his desk.

Draco nodded and then eagerly plunged into the memory.

He was standing in Dumbledore's office. His eyes immediately fell on the young woman sitting opposite Dumbledore. Her hair was the same white-blond as Draco's own. It cascaded down from the crown of her head and hung like a silken sheet over the back of the chair in which she sat. Were she standing, Draco surmised, her hair would reach the small of her back. She had a sweet, soft smile with full, bowed lips. Her eyes were the same metallic grey as Draco's, but large as a doe's and intensely playful. They were surrounded by long, wispy lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she closed them. She was, Draco thought, the color of freshly fallen snow or perhaps whipping cream. Her skin was without blemish. Looking at her, his breath caught in his chest. Joliet.

He wanted to touch her. His feeling toward her was almost incestuous. He wanted to play with her hair and nuzzle the breasts that pressed against her scarlet and black robes. Briefly he thought of how absurd it was to see a Malfoy in Gryffindor robes, but the thought was quickly swept away by Draco's attention to a small movement Joliet made while waiting patiently for Dumbledore's full consideration.

"I forgot how beautiful she was," he murmured. "I mean, I've said it. I've said, 'She was beautiful,' but I forgot just how damned beautiful she was."

"Mmm," Dumbledore intoned. "It is indeed a rare blessing to lay eyes on one as beautiful as your aunt."

There was something desirous in the aged wizard's tone. It took Draco aback, as he had always thought of Dumbledore as mostly asexual.

Dumbledore must have, himself, caught the tone, for he cleared his throat and said to Draco, "Watch, now, and listen."

The Dumbledore from the memory was seated behind his desk. Draco was suddenly aware that this scene could have taken place two days ago when he and Harry had come to see the Headmaster.

"And this one," Dumbledore was saying, "is peach." He popped the bean into his mouth, and then retched. He swept the myriad piles of beans off of his desk and onto the floor.

Joliet laughed, and again Draco's breath caught in his chest. It was as if someone had skillfully strummed a harp, recorded the melody, and grafted it onto Joliet's vocal cords.

"Ah," Dumbledore smiled at the girl. "What can I do for you, Miss Malfoy?"

"Well," Joliet began. Her voice, Draco found, carried the same musical quality. She was astonishing. How had he forgotten that? "I needed to ask you a question, if I may."

"You may," Dumbledore smiled.

Just then an owl flew through an open window, landed on Dumbledore's desk, and extended its leg toward Joliet. Grumbling, she took the rolled up parchment and stuffed it in her robes.

"She isn't going to read it?" Draco whispered, as if he would somehow interrupt the ensuing conversation.

"A letter from one of her many admirers," Dumbledore responded. "Look. Her pockets are full of them."

Draco looked and noticed a large bulge in his aunt's right pocket and another in her left.

"She must have gotten forty owls a day," Dumbledore chuckled.

Draco smiled softly.

"Anyway," Joliet continued, "I wanted to know about Animagi."

"Ask away."

"Well, sir, can...I mean, do you have to train?"

"Are you interested in assuming the shape of an animal, Joliet?"

"No. Well, kinda, I guess. See, thing is - "

Another owl flew through the window. Taking the parchment from its leg, Joliet said to the owl, "Will you please, somehow, tell them I am not interested?!" The owl simply hooted and flew back out the window.

"Never ends," she mumbled. "No matter how many times I say it - don't want a boyfriend - never ends. Sorry, sir," she blushed a bit.

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. Draco was beginning to wonder if any of the owls were from the Headmaster himself. He sniggered softly.

"It is quite all right," Dumbledore responded to Joliet. "You were saying."

"Right. Thing is, sir...well, I do change."

"At will?"

"Yes, sir. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"When I'm mad...I mean, really angry, I feel like," she paused, laughing as if she were going to say something she found utterly ridiculous, "like a bird."

"I see," Dumbledore said wisely. "So, you can become a bird."

"Yes. So far I've changed into a horse, a wolf...my favorite is a swan."

Dumbledore smiled wisely. "Animagi, Joliet, do indeed train. It is very advanced Transfiguration."

"That's my worst subject," she smiled.

"Your brother, I believe, had difficulty with it as well. You excel in Divination, correct?"

Joliet smiled modestly. "I fair well. Well enough to know that another ruddy owl is coming."

"Now that is prophetic," Dumbledore said as an owl swooped through the window.

Joliet laughed. "Please continue, Professor."

"Need I?" Dumbledore asked. "I have the feeling that you know all about Animagi. There is, in your case, another explanation. It is that which you seek, am I correct?"

Joliet nodded.

"It is my belief, Joliet, that you are not an Animagus. What creatures do you know that can take the shape of a swan, a horse, a wolf, and, you will pardon my...bluntness, a beautiful woman?"

"But..." Joliet seemed slightly nonplused. "But I thought we were...I mean, Lucius is always going on about blood purity. I think it's rubbish, but still..." her voice trailed off.

She fidgeted slightly, and then quickly threw up her hand. The window snapped closed, and the owl that was making its way toward it veered off course, narrowly missing a collision.

Lucius must have been training her, too, Draco thought.

Suddenly Joliet looked up, her eyes dancing.

"Have we always been this way?" The words came tumbling out of her mouth.

Dumbledore shook his head. "What do you know about your grandparents?"

"My grandparents? Nothing. I know my grandmother just died. Four years ago, I think."

Dumbledore nodded his head. He smiled sweetly as he said, "Yes. Tatiana. I had seen her, but did not know her personally. I did know Anguis. That was your grandfather. Anguis, like many other ancient, pure-blood, aristocratic wizards, desired to keep the Malfoy linage 'pure.' He coveted the hand of the extraordinarily beautiful Mirabel Keightley. Mirabel was the last of the Keightley line. Her father found liking with Anguis, who was allowed to marry Mirabel. They married in 1909. Anguis was 28, and Mirabel had just turned 18. To show his wife the life he was able to afford her, Anguis chose for their honeymoon a trip across the continent of Europe. They visited what was then Czechoslovakia, and while standing in a forest outside of the city of Mikulov looking for unicorns, Mirabel suddenly collapsed. Anguis cried out for assistance, not knowing what to do. A beautiful young woman, a woman by the name of Tatiana whose beauty rivaled that of Mirabel's, suddenly appeared before him. She knelt to assist Anguis, who, awed by the beauty of the creature before him, forgot why he had been so distraught.

"Mirabel had, in that forest, abruptly, inexplicably, it would seem, died of a heart attack, and Anguis left Czechoslovakia with a new bride: the 16-year-old Tatiana Zichy. Tatiana claimed to be the last of her pure-blood line and was more than happy to take the wealthy Anguis as a husband. She told him that she survived by her own means, as her parents had both died shortly prior to her meeting Anguis. The two of them begat Abraxas Malfoy, your father. Prior to the birth of Abraxas, all of the Malfoys had been very darkly featured. Not a single blond-haired Malfoy existed. Abraxas married your mother, Bronwen Hawthorne, a witch of pure-blood linage. The two of them begat Lucius Malfoy and, 24 years after his birth, Joliet Malfoy - the first, and so far only, female Malfoy in the entire line and an almost identical visual representation of her grandmother, Tatiana."

Dumbledore sat back and let the new information seep into Joliet's head.

Slowly, Joliet said, "So, I'm definitely not an Animagus, am I, Professor?"

"No, Joliet, you are not."

Seemingly right before his eyes, Draco's aunt was gone. He was sitting in Dumbledore's office again, in the chair Joliet had, ten years prior, occupied. He knew that they had traveled back, but he was unaware of it. He stared dumbfounded at the old wizard before him.

As he had with Joliet, Dumbledore let this new information seep into Draco's head.

The blond shook his head. "Professor?" he finally said. His tone was puzzled. He was staring at the Headmaster as if Dumbledore were a complete stranger.

"You do, Draco, understand?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Draco simply stared at him. It was as if Dumbledore were speaking another language.

"What creatures, Draco, can change into a wolf, a horse, and a swan? Are oftentimes manifested as a beautiful women...women so beautiful that they are deathly envious of the beauty of other women? Women so beautiful that normally sensible men lose all logic in their presence? Creatures so territorial that those who linger too long in their space are often shot with arrows or suffer heart failure? What creatures, Draco?"

"Veelas," Draco whispered.

"To coin a Muggle phrase: Bingo."

Draco again shook his head.

"I am not what I've always been told I was," he muttered, remembering Joliet's words.

"There is much," Dumbledore began after a long silence, "that you can learn from what you have just seen. But I think, Draco, you might need my assistance with something else."

Draco simply regarded the wizard before him.

"I may embarrass myself in saying this, but there was not a soul in all of Hogwarts that did not...desire...young Joliet. Beyond her beauty and the power that lie in her blood - the blood of the seductive, enthralling Veela - was a heart of pure gold. She, Draco, could have had anything she wanted, but she never took advantage of the lustful nature of man. She never used her beauty as a weapon or a bargaining chip. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Draco?"

Draco numbly nodded his head. "Yes, Professor," he mumbled.

"You risked your life to get her diary. To learn all that you could about her. Learn from her as well, Draco. She died protecting you. She died loving you."

Again Draco nodded.

"And here," Dumbledore said with an air of dismissal, sliding several pieces of parchment across his desk, "is my permission for you to be out beyond curfew."

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, standing to leave.

"To be used," Dumbledore added, "for the sole purpose of gathering information. Any pleasure trips, Mr. Malfoy, and the abusers of these passes will find themselves in a great deal more pain than they have ever known."

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

"Should we keep waiting for her?" Harry asked.

He was pacing the Room, glancing occasionally at the door. Ginny, Seamus, and Dean had arrived just moments after Harry and Draco. Draco took the few minutes that he and Harry were alone together to ask Harry to meet him the next day after Charms, as he had something he needed to get off of his chest.

"Dunno," Ginny said, glancing down at her watch. "But I'm supposed to meet Lavender for a study session in about an hour. I told her I might be a bit late, but I don't want to keep her waiting too long."

"She still needs Charms help?" Dean asked. He was flipping through a book about sophisticated Transfiguration.

"Mmm hmm."

"Maybe we should just get started," Seamus said, standing on tiptoe to look over Dean's shoulder at the book.

The Room didn't appear as it had for Harry and Draco. The couch wasn't there, but several chairs. There was a large bookshelf, its books covering all of the subjects that were taught at Hogwarts and many that were not.

Harry looked toward Draco, who was staring distractedly at the wall, before saying, "Well..."

The door opened quickly.

"There she -" Dean began. "Oh, it's you."

"Thanks. I love warm welcomes," Fred smiled, striding over to pull his sister into his arms.

"I'm glad you could make it," Ginny squealed.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," George smiled.

"I thought," Ginny began, "that Fred, George, and Tonks could be of some assistance. Well, Tonks anyway." She playfully punched Fred's arm.

"Good thinking," Harry said, smiling broadly.

Tonks had walked over to Draco almost as soon as she entered the room. She was kneeling in front of him, whispering softly, when Harry looked over at them.

"So," George said, tossing his arm over Harry's shoulder, "what have we already figured out?"

"Mostly that Hermione's not coming," Seamus said.

"Yeah," Harry said, tearing his eyes away from the murmuring cousins. "We were waiting for her, but I don't think she's going to come. So, I guess we should just get started."

"Not so fast," Fred said. "She'll be here. She was by the door when we came in. I think she's trying to convince herself that she doesn't care."

"Well," Ginny piped in, "let's get started while she decides. Lavender..."

"Right," Harry said.

As he was moving to take the chair next to Draco, the door opened again.

Hermione strode stiffly into the room, her eyes cold and unfeeling. She sat next to Dean, muttering a detached "hello" to the group.

"So, then we're all here," Harry said, casting a grateful glance at Hermione. She simply regarded him impatiently.

Tonks patted Draco's thigh, kissed his head, then took the seat next to George.

"Okay," Harry said as he sat down. "What do we know?"

With the exception of Hermione, who was, it seemed, stalwartly refusing to speak, the group rehashed everything that had been happening since the appearance of the Amulet in Ron's room during the summer.

After an hour's worth of speculation and debate, Ginny looked down at her watch.

"Shit," she muttered. "I'm sorry, guys. I've gotta go. I'll make sure not to miss out again, but we had already made plans, and..."

"It's fine, Gin," Harry assured her. "I'll fill you in on the rest later."

Saying a hurried goodbye and hugging her brothers and Tonks, Ginny quickly left the room.

Tonks sighed heavily. "Wow. Are we getting anywhere? Feels like we're going in circles here."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Yeah. Does. Okay, and I apologize, Fred and George, but I was pulling for Weasley as our guy. He can't be though."

"Why?" Dean asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

"Wasn't here during the holidays," Draco answered.

"Why does that matter?" Seamus asked.

Draco looked at Hermione from the corner of his eye, and then to Harry.

Harry expelled his breath sharply. "The banners."

Hermione clicked her tongue.

"The banners?" Fred asked, glancing at Hermione, and then at Harry and Draco. "What banners?"

Harry, Draco, Seamus, Dean, and Ginny had avoided the topic of the Transfigured banners. Harry had been hoping that Ginny had filled the twins and Tonks in on that particular detail, but it was now apparent that she had not.

He didn't want to do it, but Harry knew he had to tell them. Casting a fleeting, apologetic look toward Hermione, he said, "Monday during breakfast. The House banners...they...er...Draco and I...um..."

"Harry and Draco," Hermione spoke for the first time since the start of their meeting, "we're having sex on the banners."

"You and Draco had sex on the banners at breakfast?" Fred said, smiling. "That's bold."

George hit Fred's arm.

"Tact, fuckwit," he muttered. "What's that have to do with Ron?"

Draco shook his head. "They'd been Transfigured. We weren't having sex on the banners. The banners showed us...having sex."

"Gotcha," Fred said, rubbing his arm. "What's that have to do with Ron?"

"Nothing," Draco said. "That was my point."

"I'm not understanding, but maybe I'm just slow," Tonks said. "Sensitive subject, I know, but we're not going to get to the bottom of anything if we can't be honest. So, tell us, please, exactly what the hell you're talking about and why the banners are so important."

"Okay," Harry sighed. "It wasn't a charm. The banners had been Transfigured. When Draco and I came here to...ahem," he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, "to be together, there was a couch. We were on that couch."

"So," Draco continued, "on New Year's Eve, when we were in here, someone had to have come in without our knowledge, taken pictures, and then Transfigured the House banners using those pictures."

"And," Harry concluded, "it couldn't have been Ron because he was at the Burrow. That's why Draco's saying that Ron's not our man."

"How could someone have come in and you two not know it?" Seamus asked.

"Better than that," Dean added, "how could someone have gotten in to begin with? You've got to have a common need, right?"

"Well," Harry said pensively, "that night Ginny came in..."

"Did she want to join?" Seamus asked, and then quickly added after seeing Harry's reproving look, "I'm not asking like that. I mean, I'm not...It's not like..."

"What I think he means is," Tonks said, "was that the common...hmm...need?"

"I don't think so," Draco said. "She just said, 'Now, that's what I wanted to see'."

There was a small silence before Hermione softly cleared her throat.

"You've got an idea, Hermione? What are you thinking?" Fred asked her.

"You don't want to know," she mumbled.

"Fair enough. Well, Draco, my friend, to shoot a hole in your theory," Fred blew a jet of air through his mouth, causing his lips to flutter, "and further convict my little brother, Ron was not at the Burrow on New Year's Eve."

Draco, Harry, Dean, and Seamus all barked "What?" at the same time.

George ruefully shook his head. "Disappeared that morning. Came back later on that next day."

"So," Tonks said slowly, "if he does have Harry's cloak...and he does have the Amulet..." Her voice trailed off.

Harry growled, burying his head in his hands. Draco reached over and rubbed his back. Harry smiled at him tenderly, noticing that Draco still looked as if he were miles away.

The meditative silence again permeated the air before Harry finally spoke.

"Okay. It's getting late, and my head is starting to hurt. So, here's what I think we need to do. We need to get all the information we possibly can on that Amulet. I want to know what it does. If nobody but Dumbledore or McGonagall could change those banners back, and we can rely on Draco's assertion that Lucius is a sub par wizard -"

"Believe me, you can," Draco drawled.

" - then the Amulet must be pretty damn powerful."

"Let me take a crack at the banners," Dean said. "Maybe I can undo what Dumbledore did and work backward. That way we can possibly get the signature and, at very least, see what kind of spell was cast."

"That'll work," Harry nodded.

"And I'll," Tonks said, "go to the Ministry and see what I can find out about the Amulet."

"Fred and I will run interference on Ron," George suggested.

Draco volunteered, "I'll keep looking through Mum's and Aunt Jolie's diaries. If Mum hid them, then there must be some clue to all of this somewhere."

"Right," Harry agreed. "I think it would also be a good idea, love, if you met with Dumbledore as often as possible. Since you've, well," Harry smiled, "got a little more free time than the rest of us."

Draco smiled and playfully nipped at Harry's neck.

The room grew thickly tense. Harry chanced a glance at Hermione. Aside from her rapidly deflating and inflating chest, she showed no emotion.

"Well," George said trying to ease the tension, "we've got our orders, mon capitaine. As soon as any of us know anything, send an owl."

The others nodded in agreement, and then stiffly rose.

Harry noticed, as he made his way out of the Room after thanking them all, that Fred held Hermione back.

"Be right there," Fred called to Tonks and George. After the door had closed, and he and Hermione were the only two left in the Room, Fred said, "Wanna talk?"

"No," she said crisply, "I don't. I've got work to do. Good seeing you again."

"Oh, just fucking sit down," Fred commanded.

Hermione gave Fred a look of amused shock.

"I'm serious, Hermione. Sit."

Hermione reluctantly returned to her seat.

After a brief pause, Fred began, "This has got to suck for you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had decided to detach herself from it all. She didn't want to discuss it. She didn't want to think about it. She was fed up with crying. She simply wanted to finish the term and move on with her life. Still there was part of her that wanted to help. She couldn't be aloof and detached, she realized, if she were going to help. There were so many ideas and speculations floating through her mind, and she wanted to speak up, but her stubborn anger just wouldn't let her.

"I know you're tired of the sad, 'poor Hermione' looks. I know you're tired of being asked how you're doing. I know it's gotta be hard to see them together, whether clothed or...um...unclothed. But, you know that we need you on our side for this. And I know that you want to be here helping."

Silent tears made their way into her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. She didn't look at Fred as he took her hand, but continued to stare resolutely at the wall.

"This has got to suck for Harry and Draco, too," he said quietly.

Finally Hermione spoke.

"Yeah," she derided. "It's gotta hurt. That's why they came here New Year's Eve: because the pain was just so damned unbearable. I didn't know that was when those pictures were taken. I didn't even know that they were pictures. I thought...it doesn't matter what I thought. It doesn't matter what I feel."

"What do you feel?" Fred asked gently.

"Nothing."

"Sure you do."

Hermione was mute for awhile. When she finally spoke, her voice was no more than a whisper.

"I feel really sad. I feel really sad and really alone. I feel cheated. I loved him for so long. For so many years, I loved him. I still love him. I still keep thinking I'm dreaming - that I'll wake up and tell him that I dreamed that he was with Draco Malfoy, and he'll laugh and hold me and make love with me. How can this suck for him, Fred? He's not alone. He's got Draco."

"True," Fred agreed, "but he hasn't got you. And maybe one day, Hermione, he'll find the courage to tell you what I know it is he already knows. He could have never loved anybody but Draco. He didn't mean to hurt you. I know you don't believe that now, but it's true. He didn't mean to."

Hermione nodded her head. "I know I know that somewhere in here," she said, tapping her chest.

"Can I tell you something?" Fred said conspiratorially. "Something I've never told anyone but George?"

Hermione nodded.

"Okay," Fred said. "But you've got to put your head here," he patted the crook of his neck.

A slow, sad smile traversing her lips, Hermione put her head on Fred's shoulder. He held her tightly, and the tears that she had been refusing to let fall leapt forth.

"It's okay," he consoled. "I know what you're feeling. I know what it's like to lose someone you love, someone you thought you knew. To have them love you one way, and then turn and love someone else another. I know what Harry and Draco are feeling, too."

"You know," Hermione said softly through her tears, "what it's like to be gay."

Fred chucked Hermione gently underneath her chin.

"You are truly the most amazing witch of your time," he said, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"So, who did you lose?"

Fred sighed and said, "Lee."

"Lee Jordan?"

Fred nodded his head.

"Dear Gods," Hermione began exasperatedly, "is everyone gay?"

Fred chuckled. "No, love. No, he definitely was not. But I loved him. And he let me. And then, just like that, he left. It still hurts, Hermione," he said, "but I don't hate him. I couldn't make him be who I wanted him to be. He's happy. He's married. He'll be a father soon, I'm sure. And I'd rather him be happy and my friend than unhappy and my lover."

Hermione nodded understandingly.

"It'll take awhile," Fred whispered, "but you'll see what I mean."

As they were holding each other in the still, empty room, Fred became suddenly aware of a commotion on the other side of the door.

"Hello, hello," he mumbled. "What's on out there?"

He and Hermione quickly stood and walked to the door. Fred threw it open.

Harry and Dean forcefully fell forward, as both of them had been pushing against the spot where the door would be.

"What's all this?" Fred said, looking at the two panicked boys.

"Fred," Harry gasped. "Fred. Hermione. Something's happened...Ginny's in the hospital wing."