Circle's Close

Chapter Twenty: Daughter of Prophecy

***

Harry woke up the following morning to the smell and sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen. He lazily turned over onto his side, waiting for the disorientation of sleep to dissipate before he eventually decided to get up. He didn’t know how late it was, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly surprised when he opened his eyes and found that Draco and Remus were not still sleeping next to him. The blankets and mattresses they had used the night before had already been cleared from the floor.

With a small groan, he reluctantly picked himself up off the floor, placed his glasses over his eyes and began to fold his blankets into a neat pile. After sleep faded away and he became more alert, he decided that the house was unusually quiet at this time of morning. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the apparent absence of Draco and Remus, he would have thought he was the only one awake.

Waking fully, Harry could only assume that Draco and Remus were in the kitchen, along with Hermione and Ginny, (who had to be awake by this time as well). Who else could be cooking breakfast? Perhaps it was the thought of someone cooking in the kitchen, but it wasn’t until this thought occurred to him that the full memory of last night’s events struck him hard. He remembered being trapped in the pantry, and witnessing a conversation he never should have.

But at least he had learned one vital thing from the discussion between his godparents. Claire White had decided to stay with them after all. He wondered how difficult it would be for her to make the transition from Muggle to witch again. It had been so long ... would she be able to? Then again, maybe being a witch was a lot like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, it’s impossible to forget. He didn’t really know how these things worked, and wasn’t really sure what to expect. But, on the other hand, at least she was willing to try! It was possibly this thought that spurred him on to tidy even faster, so he could dash into the kitchen and tell everyone the great news.

The moment he entered the kitchen, he not only found that Hermione, Ginny, Draco and Remus were not at all present, but he discovered Claire supervising the pan which the bacon and eggs were frying in. As happy as he was to see her, he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that he couldn’t tell his friends the news.

Claire, seeming oblivious to the fact that Harry had entered the room, was whistling to an old Muggle song Harry recognized, which was playing softly on the small radio near the coffee maker. Her long, black hair had been thrown into a lazy ponytail, and she looked very comfortable in her jeans and hooded sweatshirt, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He glanced quickly at the kitchen table, noticing a Muggle newspaper spread open to the sports page, and he grinned to himself. It might just take his godmother a while to ease back into the wizarding world, after all.

“Good morning, Harry!” Claire suddenly greeted as she reached into a top cupboard to pull out a coffee mug. “Or should I say ‘good afternoon’?” she added, looking at him over her shoulder, smiling teasingly.

Harry raised his brows in disbelief. “It’s -- "

Claire giggled as she filled the mug with coffee from the machine that gurgled softly on the kitchen counter. “It’s only ten minutes past noon,” she informed him, still smiling as she placed the mug on the table. “Breakfast -- or lunch, I should say -- will be ready in a few minutes.”

Harry, taking his cue, sat down at the table where Claire had placed his coffee. As he stirred some sugar into the cup, listening to his stomach growl with hunger, he looked back up at Claire, who had gone back to whistling along with the radio. “Where is everyone?”

Claire shrugged her shoulders, poking at the bacon before turning around and leaning against the counter as she folded her arms across her chest, the spatula in one hand. “Remus, Hermione, Ginny and Draco left a couple hours ago to run a few errands.”

“Where did they go?” asked Harry, not expecting this kind of an answer. He felt awkward that he had slept so late, and privately wished that someone would have woken him up.

“They went into town -- but they didn’t tell me what they were doing,” said Claire with a thoughtful air about her. “And I didn’t ask.”

“I guess Sirius is still sleeping, right?” Harry guessed as he reached to the middle of the table for the fruit bowl, pulling off a few grapes from the vine and popping them one-by-one into his mouth.

Claire shook her head. “Sirius left only a few moments ago. He said he had something he needed to do, and told me he’d be back shortly.”

Harry frowned, reaching for a few more grapes. “Oh.”

Claire didn’t say anything more until she had filled his plate with eggs and bacon. After setting down the plate in front of him, she took her seat across the table from him, propped both elbows on the table, rested her chin on her folded hands, and looked at him as though he was a wonder to behold.

“You have no idea what it’s like to see you,” she said, shaking her head in awe. “I keep picturing you as this little, happy baby.”

Harry stared back at her in amazement, feeling his throat closing in. Even if he wanted to speak, it would be impossible.

“You never cried,” Claire elaborated. “You were the best baby. You would sleep through the whole night and eat whatever was given to you. You loved being held more than anything in the world. And you never fussed over anything.” She giggled softly as she said the last part, before sighing reminiscently. “Needless to say -- everyone adored you.”

“Did you and Sirius -- “ Harry started, finally finding his voice and at the same time, wholly unable to stop his morbid curiosity. “Were you and Sirius around a lot?”

Claire nodded emphatically. “All the time,” she said, stressing each word. She lowered her eyes for a moment, her ruby lips curving slowly as though his question had prompted another recall of a memory from long ago. She looked back at Harry, tilting her head to the side. “I wish you could have seen your parents with you. They loved you so much.”

Harry instantly warmed at her words, once again finding it difficult to speak. He knew, of course, that his parents had loved him. He had heard it so many times from various people who had known them. And yet, he never got tired of hearing it. And the fact that he was hearing it from his mother’s best friend certainly added more appeal and truth to her statement.

“I remember when your father learned that Lily was pregnant with you,” Claire said, her eyes full of memory and amusement as Harry stared at her, completely transfixed as she spoke about his parents. “James came over to our house one night in complete hysterics. He couldn’t seem to understand why Lily was being ... overly nice to him. She was cooking him his favorite meals, baking him his favorite deserts ... And she was giving him money to do whatever he wanted with. Needless to say, after three days of this, he was beginning to suspect that something was up.”

Harry thought he felt his stomach slip a couple of feet. He didn’t like the sound of this story at all anymore. He forced the lump in his throat down. “Did he not ... want ... to have a baby?”

Claire looked at him suddenly. “He wanted a child more than anything! And Lily knew it, which was why she spent days teasing him ruthlessly. If memory serves me correctly, I think she was trying to get even with your father over something he had done to her a few weeks before. Lily knew it was a mean prank. We all did -- especially when James came over to our house thinking that Lily was having an affair. But he got over it pretty quickly when he learned the truth.”

Harry didn’t realize he had just let out a sigh of relief. In fact, now that he thought of it, the whole idea of his mother and father playing pranks on each other made him feel a lot better. He laughed at that moment, knowing that if Hermione had done that to him, he would have come to the exact same conclusion.

“And if you haven’t guessed already, Harry,” Claire continued, the tenderness in her voice switching to amusement. “The others left to run errands so we could spend some quality time together.”

Harry gave a small sound of understanding. “That thought crossed my mind. I just don’t understand why they would all leave without waking me first.”

Claire waved this thought away with her slender hand. “That was because you were sleeping so peacefully, that we didn’t want to disturb you. You must have had a late one last night.”

Harry paled slightly at this comment, wondering what the cool and perceptive look in her eye meant. If she knew that he had overheard everything, wouldn’t she make it clear to him that she did, in fact, know?

“So!” Claire said brightly, clapping her hands together. “I don’t know about you, Harry, but I intend to take full advantage of this opportunity while I still can. Is there anything in particular you want to ask me? I’ll answer any questions as best as I possibly can.” She said all of this with an eager, energetic expression on her face, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“There are a few,” Harry admitted slowly, suddenly feeling painfully shy around this person who wasn’t supposed to be a stranger to him. Yet, being left alone with her for this length of time didn’t make him feel as awkward as he normally would have felt. He felt relieved that this was the case, and glad that he had this time to spend with her.

Claire looked at him intently as he hesitated to speak. “Harry, I don’t want you to feel you have to walk on eggshells around me,” she said quietly. “I know how awkward this must be for you -- but I don’t want you to bite back any questions for fear of upsetting me.”

Harry looked at her uncertainly. “Yeah ... but ... ”

Claire laughed suddenly, having realized what his apprehensive look meant. “I guess first impressions really are everything,” she said regretfully. “How I reacted towards Draco yesterday had absolutely nothing to do with him. It was immature of me to act that way.”

“Sirius explained some of it to me,” Harry told her. “And I don’t blame you. I probably would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes.”

Claire reached across the table and took his hands in hers, as though he was still the infant she remembered. “Please,” she said firmly. “Ask me or tell me whatever you want to. I insist. And I can promise you that there won’t be another repeat of yesterday.”

Harry seemed to just realize that he had a plate of food in front of him. And this only occurred to him when his stomach gave another loud wail of protest as his brain finally registered the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs. He withdrew his hands from Claire’s, picked up his fork and started on his eggs, allowing himself a moment or two to think of what he wanted to ask her. It just didn’t seem natural to blurt out any random question. But how else was he going to learn anything about her?

As he ate what was possibly the best tasting breakfast he had ever eaten in his entire life (doubting whether even Molly Weasley had served a more delicious breakfast), his eyes traveled from her face to where the heart-shaped pendant hung from the fine, gold chain around her neck. Hanging next to the pendant was the engagement ring Sirius had given her long before Harry had even been born. And he suddenly knew what he wanted to ask her.

“When I asked Remus about you all those months ago, he told me that you and Sirius were going to be married,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

“Yes,” said Claire, seeming unsure of where he was going with this thought.

“Remus ... told me that ... you and Sirius were engaged long before my parents became engaged to each other,” Harry elaborated.

Claire sighed, nodding slowly. “That’s very true,” she said in a strong voice, though her eyes had a tender look in them.

“I don’t understand ... ” Harry continued with a look of bewilderment, “ ... why you never married Sirius. What stopped you?”

Claire, whose eyes were resting on the reflected surface of the wooden table, shot her eyes back to Harry’s. “Remus never told you?” she asked curiously.

Harry shrugged half-heartedly at this question. “He told me about as much as he could. He felt it wasn’t really his place to ... reveal things to me that didn’t really have anything to do with him.”

Claire smiled fondly. “That’s R.J.” She looked at Harry again, this time more resignedly. “We wanted to get married, Sirius and I. But it wasn’t me who kept postponing it,” she answered calmly.

“Sirius?” asked Harry, and when Claire nodded, he felt even more confused than before. “Why would he -- “

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about Sirius, Harry,” Claire said quickly, trying to ease his confusion. “I knew he loved me. He wanted to wait until we had my parents’ blessing before getting married. I spent years trying to convince him that it was a hopeless cause. At one point, Remus even intervened and took my side. But ... Sirius wouldn’t listen. He had so much faith -- too much faith -- in them. He strongly believed that they would come around.”

“Sirius told me what your parents were like,” said Harry. “But what I don’t understand was why he held out hope. I’m sure that there was a part of him that ... ”

“Knew better?” Claire finished as Harry’s question trailed off. She nodded. “I think the reason he was so optimistic was because he wanted to do the right thing with me,” she answered. “He felt he had done so many wrong things in his life. He didn’t want our marriage to be one of them. And, strangely enough, I loved him even more for it.”

“But your parents didn’t come around. Did they?” Harry said in a flat, rhetorical tone, unable to contain the bitterness he felt at this thought. It unhinged him to think that something he had absolutely no control over could affect him so deeply.

“And they never did,” Claire answered quietly. “But then ... after three years, just after you were born, Sirius finally caved. And I knew it was because of you. I saw the change in him the moment he picked you up and held you in his arms.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at this. “Why would he change his mind? It couldn’t have been because of me.”

“Pretty close,” Claire insisted, slowly nodding her head as she ran her finger around the rim of her mug dreamily. “I think, eventually, he would have given up hope on my parents. But seeing you, holding you, made him come to that conclusion a lot sooner. And sure enough -- a week after you had been born -- he surprised me by picking a date.”

“When was it?” asked Harry curiously.

“November 11th of the following year,” answered Claire, more quietly still. “We wanted to wait, because Sirius had just started a new job, fresh from Auror Training. We both decided that it was an excellent opportunity, and we didn’t want anything getting in the way of that. With Voldemort at the height of his power, I knew that the team needed Sirius.

“But I was thrilled; make no mistake about that, Harry,” she added, her voice rapidly increasing with excitement. “We had set an official date. That was all that mattered at the moment. We were young and careless. Literally and foolishly believing that we had all the time in the world to do the things we wanted to do.”

Suddenly, Harry felt like something had just walloped him in the gut. The pain was so intense he had to grip the table to keep from doubling over. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that the date of their wedding had been after --

Claire reached out for his hand again, barely noticing how cold it was to her own skin. She squeezed his hand affectionately. “Don’t blame yourself,” she pleaded, her eyes soft and warm.

Harry looked at her questioningly.

“I know that look, Harry,” Claire continued, unnerving him with her uncanny perceptiveness. “It’s that look of raw guilt, and I don’t want to see it flash through your eyes ever again.”

Harry could hardly speak, so he nodded, hoping that that would suffice as an answer.

“Good,” Claire said determinedly, taking a sip of coffee from her mug. “Now -- I want to know more about you and Hermione.”

Harry frowned at this. “I told you so much already! In fact, I think I told you everything I possibly could.”

Claire shook her head, a look of disagreement on her face. “You told me all about Hermione, yes,” she agreed. “But I still don’t know how you met or fell in love. From your letters, it was easy to discern that Hermione is one-of-a-kind. But knowing that the Ring-Spirit helped you to destroy Voldemort last Spring, that calls for a very special kind of relationship. And personally, I want to know everything.”

Harry gave a resigned sigh while Claire smiled with satisfaction. Over the course of an hour he told her how he had met Hermione, and their slow journey from ‘just friends’ to ‘more-than-friends.’ Claire listened raptly, sighing and laughing in all the right places, and offering her opinion when there was a thoughtful pause.

Harry knew he could go on and on about Hermione for hours on any given day. But what really surprised him was how comfortable he felt around Claire, and how much he enjoyed her input. Every few minutes he had to remind himself that this woman sitting in front of him had been best friends with his mother. He wondered what they had been like together in their school days. Thinking of this made him speculate about her friendship with Remus, and her relationship with Sirius as well. He wanted to know everything.

“When did you become friends with Remus?” he asked her once their previous conversation had faded somewhat. “I know it was before you met Sirius. But what I don’t know is how.”

Claire raised her brows at this. “Remus never told you?” At the shake of Harry’s head, she grinned. “We’ve known each other almost since the day we were born,” she revealed. “Our fathers, who went to school together, were best friends. And remained best friends until -- “

Harry leaned forward slightly, eager to hear the rest of the story. But Claire seemed to have come to a stop, her eyes darkening slightly.

“Claire?” Harry prompted. His godmother shook herself from her reverie and smiled at him reassuringly.

“Well, that was how Remus and I grew up together,” she continued. “I, of course, was a full-fledged Muggle until I got my Hogwarts letter. Remus’s father was a Muggle who married a witch -- which would make R.J half and half. And neither of us had the courage to tell one another that we were going to Hogwarts until the day we arrived there.”

Harry nodded, sensing that there was a lot more to this story than she was willing to talk about at the time. Not wanting to push it, he said, “Did you meet Sirius through Remus? I’m interested to learn how you two met. And how you ... fell in love and got engaged.”

Suddenly realizing he might have overstepped his bounds, he lowered his eyes, expecting Claire to snap on him for asking her such a personal question. But when his eyes met hers again, she was smiling softly, her eyes gazing back into the past. She shook her head as though to rid herself of those memories and brought herself back to the present.

“That’s a long and complicated story,” Claire admitted. “Too long.”

“That’s exactly what Remus said when I asked him to tell me,” Harry said, somewhat bitterly. “And then I asked Sirius to tell me -- and he adamantly refused.”

Claire sighed. “I don’t mind telling you. Maybe someday when Sirius and Remus are around, we can sit down and tell you how it happened,” she promised. “But for the record -- it’s not an interesting story. I can tell you one thing; it doesn’t involve a mountain troll, a hippogriff ... a Friendship ring or a princess.”

“Anything that involves my godparents -- and ultimately the friends of my parents -- is of interest to me,” Harry assured her. “But I understand if you don’t want to tell me right now. And don’t expect me to forget your promise. I will hold you to it.”

Claire laughed. “I won’t forget. And Sirius will help me with the story whether he likes it or not.”

“Not.”

Harry turned to the kitchen doorway, discovering that Sirius had just arrived back from wherever he was, and whatever he had been doing. He looked clean-shaven and fresh, and more cheerful than Harry could ever remember seeing him. Although, at the very moment, there was a defiant glint in his eye as he stared at Claire, who looked back at him innocently.

“You don’t even know what I was talking about!” she said innocently as he approached her at the table, shaking his head in a reprimanding way.

“Like hell, I don’t,” he retorted as he reached her, slowly pulling Claire up to her feet and gliding his hands from her own down to her waist, where they rested comfortably. Harry watched them raptly, glad that it didn’t feel forbidden to him that he was in the same room, unlike last night.

Claire slid her hands up his arms, looking up into his handsome face. “I don’t see why you don’t like talking about it,” she teased. “From what I remember, our Hogwarts years were good ones, for the most part.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened, his lips fighting the urge to smile. “It’s not you I refuse to talk about. It’s me and -- “

“Our past?” Claire emphasized, cutting Sirius off. “Would you deny Harry this one simple request? Your only godson?”

Sirius threw his head back and gave a loud bark of laughter. “Manipulation,” he muttered, shaking his head at her. “I don’t even want to know where you learned that.”

Harry laughed, and Sirius’s eyes crinkled with mirth as they met his godson’s. “You laugh now, Harry. But wait until Claire manages to influence Hermione. Then we’ll see who’ll be laughing last.”

Claire swatted at Sirius playfully. “I don’t think I like the sound of that!” she exclaimed, while Sirius laughed heartily, his hold tightening around her slender waist.

“The thing is, Harry,” Claire resumed, turning to her godson who regarded his godparents with amusement. “Sirius can be extremely ... flexible ... providing you give him the right attention.”

“Kind of reminds me of a dog,” said a new, though familiar voice from the kitchen doorway. “Is it just me, or is that too much of a coincidence?”

“It slipped my mind that I was the only one in this house with four legs and a tail, Moony,” Sirius retorted, turning to the four grouped together at the doorway, their faces smudged with soot.

Claire laughed, extracting herself from Sirius’s arms as the other girls giggled with her. Ginny, Draco and Hermione pushed their way through the kitchen, the latter of whom dropped down next to Harry and kissed him affectionately on the cheek.

“Been playing in the fireplace?” asked Harry, smirking at his friends’ appearance.

“We traveled by Floo today,” Ginny told him. “How many times, again?” she asked as she turned to her boyfriend.

“Lost count,” Draco said as he, along with Ginny and Hermione, narrowed his eyes at Remus, who shrugged innocently.

“You wanted to come with me,” he reminded them simply.

“Where did you all go?” interrupted Harry, looking to each sooty face for an answer.

“Everywhere,” Ginny answered quickly and with a touch of cynicism.

“Hey,” Remus said with mock impatience as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “If you knew how to Apparate, we wouldn’t have had this problem now, would we?”

Ginny’s mouth dropped as she feigned indignation. “I think I liked you better as our professor,” she said sourly. “This ... ’you being friends with Sirius’ thing, isn’t working out.”

“Ha!” Remus said triumphantly. “Hear that, Sirius? Ginny thinks I’m a better professor than you.”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, mate,” Sirius answered in a placating tone. “But you’re entitled to think what you want. Whatever makes you happy.”

Everyone laughed as Remus answered Harry’s original question.

“We went into town,” he said as he slid the bowl of fruit towards him, pulling a few grapes from the vine. “We had to go to Hogsmeade for -- “

His voice was cut off by the startling, yet familiar tapping of a beak against the kitchen window, pleading for someone to open it. Claire, being the closest, pushed the window open, and a regular barn owl swooped in, dropped a letter into Claire’s palm, and soared off back into the afternoon sky. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence as everyone looked expectantly at Claire -- who continued to stare down at the letter in her hand.

“Who’s it for?” asked Ginny, leaning over in her seat to see if she could catch a glimpse of the name on the envelope.

Claire looked up from the letter as though waking from a dream. “It’s addressed to me,” she answered dazedly. “But this has to be some mistake. No one knows I’m here. Right?”

“Maybe,” Sirius said as Claire handed him the envelope in puzzlement. He turned it over and a sudden look of understanding entered his light eyes. “It’s from Hogwarts, honey.”

“Hogwarts!” Ginny and Hermione exclaimed together. Harry stared at the two girls, thinking that their excitement over this fact sounded TOO exaggerated for his ears. Hermione saw the look on his face and quickly lowered her eyes.

“Maybe it’s from Professor Dumbledore,” she suggested quietly. Was that a smirk on her face?

Claire looked alarmed at this thought. “Sirius -- why would he be writing to me?” she asked, all her confusion melting into something resembling fear. “If he’s writing to me to ... tell me to go home ... ”

“Don’t be absurd, love,” Sirius said quickly, squeezing her arm reassuringly as his other hand still clutched the letter. “But the only way you’ll find out is if you read it.” He handed the letter back to her.

Claire bit her lower lip anxiously. “I don’t want to read it if it’s only going to be bad news. You read it.” And she pushed the letter back into his hands.

“It’s your letter,” Sirius argued exasperatedly. “You should open it,” he insisted, shoving the letter back to her.

“Sirius -- “

“Claire -- “

Remus glanced at Harry. “Get used to this,” he suggested lightly, before swooping in and taking the letter from Claire’s hands. “I'll read it,” he said.

Claire clutched at hear heart-shaped pendant in a habitual way, continually chewing on her lower lip as foolish thoughts crept along her mind. She simply nodded at Remus, looking grateful that he had volunteered.

There was a long pause as Remus opened the envelope, extracted a small piece of parchment and read the note to himself. When he finished, he looked at Claire, handing her the note.

“It’s from Albus,” he said, confirming Hermione’s guess. “And for what it’s worth -- he’s not unwelcoming you back.”

“What does he want?” Sirius inquired with curiosity.

Claire scanned the letter herself, looking far less apprehensive than she had a moment ago. For a brief moment, her dark eyes shone with relief, before smoothing over into a look of bewilderment. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had sent her a strange riddle, asking her to solve it and send him back the answer. He couldn’t really think of any other reason to explain why she looked so stumped.

“He’s requesting my presence at Hogwarts,” Claire informed everyone in the room. She waved the letter at Remus, shaking her head disbelievingly. “Why would he want me there?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” answered Harry confidently. “He hasn’t seen you in almost twenty years. Wouldn’t it be like him to personally welcome you back into the wizarding world?”

“That’s a likely possibility,” Sirius agreed, smiling thoughtfully at Claire. “Aww -- now you have to stay,” he teased.

“And at least you’ll have this when you return,” said Remus, producing a long, thin-shaped box from the recesses of his jacket. He handed her the box, exchanging a knowing smile with Sirius.

Claire took the box, touching it tentatively at first, her eyes round with disbelief. “This isn’t what I think it is ... is it?”

“The one and same,” answered Remus, as the others in the room watched her keenly, waiting for some kind of a reaction. But it seemed that Claire had been rendered completely speechless as she gingerly held the box in her hands, seemingly afraid to either drop or open it.

Everyone in the room held a collective breath, waiting for her to open the box. When she finally did, there was a unified exaltation, and Claire giggled at each of them, before pulling out the wooden wand she had abandoned nearly 17 years ago. She held it tenderly, her eyes soft with wonder and memory.

And then, almost just as suddenly, her eyes hardened dangerously and she pointed her wand threateningly at Remus, who jerked back instantaneously.

“I think I remember telling you to have this wand destroyed, R.J,” Claire reminded him.

Remus calmly looked up into her face, and without the briefest hesitation he said, “I knew you’d be back.”

With trembling lips, Claire threw her arms around her oldest friend, rocking him backwards from her own strength. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling back so he could see the sincerity in her dark eyes.

“Great,” said Sirius sarcastically, his hand resting on Claire’s hip once again as he looked at Remus. “You just armed her with a weapon.” He finally turned to Harry. “If you thought she was terrifying before -- just you wait.”

Even Claire joined in on the laughter as Sirius dropped an affectionate kiss just above her temple, smiling warmly down on her as she looked up at him, her dark eyes glowing.

*

“It worries me when you disappear like that.”

Sirius turned to find Harry approaching him, past the boxes and across the dusty floors of the attic.

“I wasn’t planning to stay up here for long,” Sirius assured him, running his hand across something Harry couldn’t see as he stumbled across the attic towards him.

“What are you doing up here?” Harry asked him, shielding his eyes from the beam of light that seeped through the long, dingy window.

Sirius motioned him over with his one hand. “I never told you where I went this morning,” he said.

“And?”

Sirius nodded to the article of black fabric he had laid over a pile of boxes. It was quite large and moldy, with gold embroidering along the edges. Harry touched his fingers to the cloth, guessing that it had once been a very beautiful piece of fabric, long before it became ignored by those who were supposed to keep it intact.

“A tapestry?” Harry guessed.

Sirius nodded confirmation. “Look closer,” he suggested, pointing to the top of the tapestry.

“The Noble and Ancient House of Black—Toujour pur,” Harry recited. His eyes scanned names he didn’t recognize, which branched off into other names. The only name he seemed to recognize was ‘Black.’ He looked back at Sirius, realization dawning on him. “Your family tree! Where did this come from?”

Sirius sat down on one of the boxes, spreading his knees apart as he rested his forearms on them, casually looking up at Harry. “My house. Or rather, the house I grew up in.”

Harry frowned a little at this statement. “You should have taken me with you. Why didn’t you -- “

“I wasn’t planning to make a family trip out of it,” Sirius said shortly. “I wanted to grab the family tree and leave. You wouldn’t have liked it there. Trust me,” he added.

“You shouldn’t have gone there alone,” Harry argued, knowing what Sirius must have gone through just to enter that place. It would be like himself having to return to the Dursleys. And that was something he knew he could never do, even with his closest friends by his side. But to do it alone?

“I wanted you to see this,” Sirius pointed to the tapestry. “And as much as I adore Grimmauld place ... sadly, there will never be another return trip.”

Harry stared closely at the golden embroidered names, searching towards the bottom of the tree for Sirius’s name.

“You won’t find me there,” Sirius informed him quickly. “Look -- see that burn mark? That was where my name was. Before I ran away.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry distractedly, remembering the story Sirius had told him of how and when he had left home. Harry’s eyes quickly caught another burn mark, squeezed between two other names: Bellatrix and Narcissa Black.

“Yeah, that was my cousin Andromeda,” Sirius told Harry, referring to the burn mark. “She married a Muggle -- so naturally -- “

“Narcissa ... ” Harry said, interrupting Sirius as he concentrated on that name. Narcissa had a branch tied to Lucius Malfoy -- and just below their two names --

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, suddenly realizing what Sirius had wanted to show him. “You never told me you were related to him!”

“We’re second cousins,” Sirius said. “And I didn’t tell you about it because I thought it might change how you feel about him. And I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“Change how I feel? What are you talking about?”

“You know all about my family,” Sirius pointed out. “How they favored pure-bloods and how they were quite pleased with what Voldemort was trying to accomplish. I thought if I told you that Draco’s family was even more involved in it than you thought -- then you would have been convinced that Draco really couldn’t have changed after all. Believe it or not, that was something I was trying to avoid.”

Harry thought that this was a strange statement. After all, how much more involved could a son of a Death Eater get?

“I admit -- even I was a little hesitant about him,” Sirius continued. “And it wasn’t until yesterday that I finally let go of my own opinions and truly gave Draco a chance. I thought it would help you to know that if I can break free of the pure-blood mania, then so can he.”

“But what made you decide that about him?” asked Harry. “Why so suddenly?”

“Draco has the love of the right woman,” Sirius answered simply. “And believe it or not, it’s the key. I didn’t see it until yesterday, but it’s there.”

“You mean -- if Claire hadn’t been here -- you wouldn’t have seen it?” Harry teased.

“Yes, well,” Sirius replied, smirking as he stood up. “I suppose it’s not nearly as easy as eavesdropping in a pantry, you know.”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, unable to look Sirius in the eye as the older wizard gave a loud bark of laughter.

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius said, clapping his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Knowing Claire, she’s probably started dinner. And knowing her as well as I think I do, she’ll want our help in the kitchen.”

*

Hermione kicked off her shoes and rested her bare feet on the opposite lawn chair, leaning into Harry’s body as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“This weekend has been so amazing,” Hermione said softly, looking up at the starlit sky and the full moon. “I almost don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. I feel like we’re on this deserted island and nothing can hurt us here.”

“We’ll have the opportunity to enjoy it this summer,” Harry promised her. “We’re going to live together like a real married couple.”

Hermione jerked her head upwards at this, smiling at him as her fingers pressed into his side affectionately. “You know ... we’ve always talked about having children and living together. But not once have you ever mentioned marriage.”

Harry grinned at her. “Well, you can’t have one without the other, love.”

Hermione swatted at him playfully. “I know that, Harry,” she said, chagrined. “I just can’t help but acknowledge it, is all.”

“And ... do you ... have different views on it?” Harry asked, wishing he didn’t sound like a child as he said it.

Hermione squeezed his hand lovingly, turning her head so she could look up into his troubled eyes. “I would marry you right now, if I could.”

Harry, feeling less apprehensive, kissed her softly on the lips. “I think Ron might have a problem with that, love. Especially if he couldn’t get here in time to be my best man.”

“Your loss,” Hermione sighed with disappointment.

Harry laughed, lifting her chin up and meeting her lips with his own in a deeper, more loving kiss. It was a kiss that only lasted a few seconds, before Harry sensed another presence, and he looked up towards the patio doorway to see Ginny standing there, giving him and Hermione a slow, shy wave.

“Ginny -- we thought you went to bed,” Harry said as Hermione extracted herself from his tender embrace.

“I just came down to say goodnight,” Ginny said. Harry thought she looked a little bit more troubled than usual. Hermione seemed to sense it, too.

“Are you alright, Ginny?” she asked attentively.

Ginny nodded, twisting the hem of her pajama top with her fingers as she stared down at the stone patio deck. Her nod slowly turned into a shrug, which eventually faded into the action of shaking her head.

“Sit down,” suggested Hermione kindly. “You’ll never fall asleep looking and feeling as anxious as you do.”

Ginny silently obeyed Hermione, looking grateful, though still very distressed over what was on her mind. After a long pause, during which time Harry seriously doubted whether Ginny was going to say anything at all, the youngest Weasley finally spoke.

“Yesterday, when I snapped at you, Harry, it wasn’t just because you were trying to warn me,” Ginny told him.

“I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you -- “ Harry started, but was quickly silenced by Ginny’s pleading look.

“You were right to say what you said,” Ginny continued. “But the truth is -- the fear behind telling my family about Draco isn’t just because he’s a Malfoy. It’s not because my father hates his father ... or because they have more money ... or because they believe in the purity of witches and wizards. Yes, all of those are factors. But there’s something more to it. And it’s something I’ve never told anyone -- aside from Draco.”

“Ginny, you can tell us anything,” Hermione said with compassion.

“I know,” smiled Ginny. “That’s the reason I’m here, because I want to tell you two. You’ve both been so supportive ever since you found out about Draco. I wish I could tell Ron. I wish I could tell my whole family ... but I’m so confused ... ”

“Whatever it is, we can help you work through it,” Harry promised confidently.

Ginny nodded, taking a deep breath. “You see, it started with my mum. But she didn’t actually tell me the story until the day before I started Hogwarts,” Ginny began, and already she could see Harry and Hermione looking more interested by the second. “She told me that during her last year at Hogwarts, she visited a Seer in Hogsmeade. Mum only assumed she was a traveling Seer -- because she never saw her again after that one meeting."

“Your mum went to a Seer?” Hermione asked in mild disbelief.

Ginny grinned in spite of herself. “She didn’t want to,” she said. “According to Mum, her friends dared her into it. They were days from graduating, and they just wanted to have a really good laugh. So Mum agreed.

“And during that visit, the Seer told my mum that she had very strong feelings about her -- almost like an intuition. And so she sold Mum some magical Dream Powder, which she promised would show her a vision of her future. When Mum used the Dream Powder, she dreamt of a daughter. And that daughter was represented as a courageous lioness -- so she knew, at least, that her daughter would be in Gryffindor, like herself.

“And then her dream shifted, and the lioness was standing next to a great, powerful lion. The lion ... was crushing a snake under its front paw.”

Hermione gave a small sound of awareness, while Harry stared at Ginny.

“Which means your mum interpreted that dream to mean -- “ Harry started.

“She took it to mean that her daughter -- me -- would be paired with another Gryffindor,” Ginny elaborated. “And then ... that certain Gryffindor would take out a serpent -- a Slytherin.”

“But more to the point,” Hermione added. “Your mum believed Harry to be that certain lion, right?”

“Right,” Ginny said anxiously, biting her lower lip as she looked at Harry. “That’s the reason -- I mean -- I guess it’s pretty fair to admit that I fancied you at one point, Harry. But that was ages ago. And yet, for years Mum harbored this secret fantasy that you and I would end up together. I think that’s because of the vision. But when she saw how happy you were with Hermione, she relented. She didn’t say as much -- but she knew that you two belonged together.”

Harry remembered the tiny Easter egg Mrs. Weasley had given Hermione in Fourth year. Even though it had happened years ago, he felt a lot better now that he knew the actual reason behind it.

“And the snake?” asked Hermione quietly.

“Who else could the snake be?” asked Ginny helplessly. “For years Harry and Draco had been enemies. Back then, I’d believe in a heartbeat that Harry would be the one who would defeat Draco -- if it ever came down to that. But things are different now. They’re friends. And there’s no need for them to -- “

“Not all visions have to come true, Ginny,” Harry said calmly, attempting to pacify her uneasiness.

“But Mum believes that this one will,” Ginny insisted. “She placed so much faith in that vision. Why do you think she kept having children? It’s a bit of a coincidence that she stopped only after she had a girl, don’t you think?”

“She’ll have to realize that the vision won’t come true,” Hermione said logically. “She’s already accepted that Harry isn’t the Gryffindor you’re destined to be with.”

Ginny groaned. “You just nailed it, Hermione,” she said miserably. “The vision is clear in one thing: I’m supposed to be with another Gryffindor. Not a Slytherin. Which means ... not Draco.”

“Visions can change,” Harry said. “Have another fortune re-told! I’m telling you, Ginny, your worries are baseless. You shouldn’t have to follow a path that has already been laid out for you. You should be able to make your own choices. It’s your destiny. Not your mother’s.”

“Is that how you feel about the prophecy that has already been foretold about you?” asked Ginny, staring at him.

Harry drew back slightly, not expecting this response from her. “How do you know about that?”

Ginny lowered her head. “Never mind,” she mumbled.

“No ... ” Harry persisted. “Who told you about the prophecy?”

“Draco,” Ginny answered flatly, looking at him.

“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed. “How did he find out?”

Ginny looked like she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. She twirled a lock of hair around her index finger, looking anxious all over again. “I don’t know ... how he found out, or for how long he’s known. But I know he discovered it from his father.”

“Of course,” Harry muttered, looking at Hermione. “Lucius would know, wouldn’t he?”

“What else has Draco learned from his father?” asked Hermione calmly.

Ginny shook her head. “Hermione -- I can’t -- “ She broke her sentence off, looking desperately at Harry.

“We’re not going to force you to tell us,” Harry sighed, running his hand across his forehead and over his jagged scar. “We’ll find out from him later, one way or another. It’s not a big shocker that he knows, anyway. Ever since our first day at Hogwarts, he’s always been one step ahead of me when it came to the wizarding world. And I think that’s because of his father.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny quickly apologized. “I really wish I knew how to keep my big mouth shut.”

“Harry’s right,” Hermione said. “We’ll eventually find out what Draco knows when he feels he can talk to us about it. We’re sure he knows more than he’s letting on. And he probably has his reasons for keeping that information to himself.”

“You’re not angry?” asked Ginny, as though this thought was too good to be true.

“There’s not much sense in getting angry over this,” said Harry. “The thing is, Ginny, you need to stop worrying that we don’t trust Draco. We’ve both invested a lot of time trying to get to know the Draco that you know and love, and we see it. We see what you see. There are too many good qualities stacked up in his favor that actually outweigh the bad qualities.”

“He’s with you, after all,” Hermione added. “That has to say something about his character.”

Ginny laughed.

“And the only thing you can do about this ‘Daughter of Prophecy’ business is wait it out,” Hermione concluded for her friend. “You love Draco. Do not let anything get in the way of that. Harry is right. Visions don’t always have to come true. You already know Trelawney was the one who predicted that Harry would be Voldemort’s downfall, right?”

“Right,” Ginny agreed, resisting the urge to flinch as Hermione said the name of the most feared wizard that ever existed.

“And we know that Voldemort was vanquished last Spring, right?” asked Hermione.

“Of course,” said Ginny, wondering where Hermione was going with this thought. Harry could sense that Hermione was getting straight to the point, and could also see exactly what she was trying to say.

“Harry didn’t defeat Voldemort, Ginny,” Hermione reminded her gently. “It was the Ring-spirit who initially destroyed Him.”

Ginny’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’ as she realized what Hermione was getting at.

“See?” Hermione said with a kind, reassuring smile. “If Trelawney’s prediction was inaccurate -- which it clearly was -- then your mother’s Dream Prediction can be false, as well.”

“And your mum can change her mind, too,” Harry added. “But the longer you wait to tell them ... ”

Ginny giggled. “I know, I know. Consider myself warned. I get it,” she complied, standing up to go back inside. She turned back to them slowly, a sly look in her eye. “Is it just me -- or does it feel like Claire never left all those years ago?”

“It’s definitely not just you,” Hermione insisted, smiling. “Has she already gone to bed?”

“If by ‘bed’ ... you mean with Sirius, then yes,” answered Ginny, smirking more than ever as Harry shifted uneasily in his chair.

“You should have seen them this morning, Harry,” Hermione said sweetly. She and Ginny both giggled at this, while Harry looked on in bewilderment.

“They were dancing and singing around the kitchen, as though they were born to,” Ginny explained, her eyes twinkling at the memory. “They were really adorable together. And speaking of adorable -- I had better say goodnight to Draco, before he gets impatient. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“Night, Ginny,” Hermione and Harry said together.

Hermione nuzzled into Harry as Ginny went inside the house, sliding the patio door shut behind her before disappearing through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“I can’t seem to remember what we were doing before Ginny interrupted us,” Harry sighed with a deep frown on his face.

Hermione looked up at him exasperatedly. “You’re hopeless.”

Harry tilted her chin upwards, smiling at her. “If by ‘hopeless’ you mean absolutely, one hundred percent, hopelessly in love with you, then yes. Guilty.” And their lips met in a long and tender kiss.

To Be Continued...

***