Adamo Mortalis

Adamo Mortalis

Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Chris, who has been so patiently waiting for it, and offering encouragement all the way. You don't know how much it means to me. Also, as always, AM is dedicated to Chelsey, for being an amazing beta-reader. Happy Birthday. Thanks to all my reviewers from the first four chapters--Srox4690, Ashfae, HarryNZ, Lucy-Liza, athipsou, gilaesther, BabyXtreme, greenfairy, Sierra Black, niffler77, Liz R., Flame, Lana Love, Lolli Malfoy, Virginia Telcontar, carrottop, day1i11y, anmsmom, MythX, Joyce Cohen, lilahp, Crystal Music, GryffindorMandi, Lily Vance, flower0519, Charlie, Wolfcat, singtoangels, and SilverPhoenix. Keep reading, reviewing, and enjoying.

***

Sirius Black was stressed out.

Had he been a woman, he would have taken a bubble bath, done yoga, or written in a diary. As it was, he was a man, and rather exhausted from running around in the forest in dog form for nearly two straight hours, and too weary to even move a muscle to lift himself off the limp-mattress-and-fraying-blanket-combination which could generously have been called a bed.

Instead he lay, feeling his sore muscles ache, and planned out his excursion to the post office. He smiled to think that it was likely that no one had ever before put such emphasis on a simple trip to the edge of town to pay an owl to take a message. But he would have to take great precautions to avoid being recognized--and that would require either highly advanced magic performed on himself, or Transfiguration of things he already had. The Transfiguration, admittedly, was fairly elementary, but Sirius hadn't tried transfiguring anything in years. He hoped it wouldn't take him days just to remember how.

Sighing, he gingerly rolled over to face away from the wall and towards the center of the room. He focused his attention on his wand, which he had laid on a small table next to his bed; he picked it up, and, rolling it between his fingers, he remembered his first one, the one he had received as an eleven-year-old, and how different it had been. His prior wand was made of oak wood, with hair from a centaur's tail at the core. This one was made from a birch tree, much lighter and more flexible, an contained a single strand of a unicorn's mane. To Sirius, it seemed to reflect the change that had come over him in Azkaban: he felt washed out, pale, only a reflection of his former self, the man that had laughed at James' school pranks and had become an Animagus to support his werewolf friend, completely ignorant of the risks involved. Absently, he wondered how much Ollivander knew about him, if he could guess precisely in what way Sirius would have changed after his time in the wizard prison.

Setting his wand back down, Sirius stood, wincing, to shut the curtains. He was going to try to sleep so that he would be well-rested to begin his preparations early the next day. Still, although his body ached and stung, his mind raced to conclusions about the possibilities for failure in his mission: what would happen if he was recognized?

He couldn't fail. He would just have to have such an outstanding disguise that no one would see through it, and quickly ask for his owl, and leave, doing absolutely nothing to distinguish himself from an everyday wizard sending an average owl, perhaps to his mother, or childhood friend, or wife.

Sirius thought bittersweetly that James would have loved this adventure. He would have made Sirius dress up like…well, like an elderly woman, with bright pink lipstick and a flowered bonnet--and they all would have laughed at him, and taken pictures, and remembered it forever. But those days were gone now. Remus and Harry were all that Sirius had now, and he would do anything to protect them.

Even if, he thought, if that meant dressing up like an elderly woman for this excursion. It was unfortunate that wouldn't be necessary.

***

Harry, Hermione and Ron walked towards the last available carriage of the long line waiting to take all the students (excepting the first-years, of course) to Hogwarts castle. They had lost track of Ginny when they'd gone away from Draco, but the carriages were filling up quickly, and none of the trio particularly wanted to be left behind. Harry clambered up first, then Ron, and Harry offered a hand to help Hermione up.

"What is wrong with him?!" Ron finally exploded once he'd shut the carriage door, leaving the three of them alone. "I mean, where does he think he gets off, insulting my family and then trying to come off as the good guy by offering me some money? I'm not a bloody charity case!"

"Ron, calm down," Hermione said, laying a hand on his arm, with which he had been gesturing wildly. "He's a stupid git. We already knew that."

"I don't understand what he's trying to do," Harry said tightly. "I mean, he keeps going on about how he wants us to be friends, but…I don't know why, and I can't figure it out. Obviously he's got some ulterior motive, but…" he trailed off into silence. The quiet remained in their enclosure until the carriage finally started moving with a jerk and Ron fell into Harry, making a sort of oomph noise.

"In Hogwarts, A History there's a page or so about how these carriages work," Hermione said, trying to break the silence. "There used to be enchanted horses, but now it's just a sort of magical illusion. The setup's very fragile, actually, and any sort of strong magic will disrupt it--"

"Oh, that's absolutely fascinating, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes at Harry. "Don't you think so, Harry? In fact, I think I'd like to know more. Exactly how does this illusion work? Maybe you could explain it with an arithmantic equation or something equally sensible."

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Have I ever mentioned precisely how glad I am that I'm not in Arithmancy?"

Hermione gave both boys a look of contempt. "Arithmancy is a very practical subject. Exactly what are you going to do with what you've been learning in Divination? That's right, nothing. Arithmancy, on the other hand, is used by wizards everywhere to solve equations that otherwise would be impossible to answer. I've been reading up on it, actually, in that book I bought in Diagon Alley last June , Practical Applications for Arithmancy--"

"Please, please stop," Ron moaned, putting his hands over his ears. "You're going to put me to sleep."

"Come on, you guys, quit it," Harry tried to interject, but he obviously wasn't loud enough, because both Hermione and Ron ignored him completely.

"Sometimes I think I'd prefer you asleep," Hermione shot back. "You couldn't make quite so many snide comments that way."

"I think I'd prefer you without any arms," Ron said fiercely. "You couldn't answer every single one of the teacher's questions that--"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry yelled, performing the hex first on Ron, and then Hermione. Their bodies became rigid and straight, frowns still frozen on their faces. "Come on, you guys, we're all just tired. Don't take it out on each other."

Harry was so rarely demonstrative that Ron and Hermione were both stunned into speechlessness once he un-hexed them, and quiet again reigned in their compartment. Ron finally muttered something that could have been, "Sorry," and Hermione stopped glaring violently at him, backing down to something that was more like glowering.

Harry had his eyes closed and was slumped down in the rickety seat when Ron said in a puzzled voice, "I don't think we're moving anymore."

"What?" said Hermione, her head snapping up. "I wonder why we've stopped? I hope you didn't disrupt the magic with your Body-Bind, Harry."

"It's a first-year spell," Harry pointed out. "I don't think it's going to make that much of a difference."

"Maybe we're already there," Ron suggested.

"No, I don't think so. It usually takes longer than this. According to Hogwarts, a History, the castle is--"

"Well, fine. You go out and check, then," Ron scowled.

"Fine. I will," Hermione said, and tossed back her curls. She crawled over Harry to open the door and gave a sort of leap to the ground. From the inside of the carriage, both boys faintly heard her cry, "Oh, no!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, than quickly jumped to the ground beside Hermione. The rest of the line of carriages was far away, growing smaller and smaller as they advanced into the darkness.

"Bugger," said Ron violently. He angrily kicked a wheel of the ancient-looking carriage. "Why do things like this always happen to us?"

No one answered. Harry looked away guiltily.

Harry watched Hermione sigh and stare off in the distance at the receding line of carriages for a moment. She was usually the one who came up with a practical plan to solve the fixes the trio often found themselves in. Ron and Harry waited for her to come up with something brilliant, but she turned back to them after a time with a glum expression.

"Harry…you must have disrupted the connection with your spell," Hermione said quietly. "I don't know how to fix it. I didn't think it would do that with just a simple Body-Bind…but maybe the carriages and the spell are wearing out…anyway, we'll have to walk. There's no other way."

***

Draco had claimed himself a carriage with Crabbe and Goyle, turning up his nose in disapproval at the run-down state of his transportation. At the last minute, Pansy Parkinson heaved herself up to sit next to Draco. He grimaced, then plastered a condescending smile across his face. It was never a good idea to be on bad terms with a Slytherin, even if you were one yourself.

"Draco!" she squealed, clasping his forearm with her hand. "I haven't seen you in so long! How are you?"

"The usual," he replied with an elegant shrug, hoping that she would leave their conversation at that.

She didn't. "How was your summer? Oh, mine was so good! Just before we came back to school, I bought this dress," and she sidled up next to him, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly and whispering, "and some new panties. But I suppose…well, you'll just have to wait to see them until later." She giggled and gave his arm, which she was still holding on to, a squeeze. Draco winced internally at the way her sharp nails were digging into his skin.

"That's wondrous, Pansy. Maybe you should find another victim."

She pouted. "Oh, but I like you, Draco. All the girls like you, and look--I'm the lucky one that gets to ride with you in the carriage!"

"Well isn't that just a stroke of fate," he replied distractedly. He wondered if he should tell her about his Ginny plan--perhaps that would get her to stop throwing herself at him? At least in public, anyway.

He didn't even need to find a way to introduce the topic; Pansy did it for him. She said, "Have you seen the Gryffindors recently? I swear, they get more goody-two-shoes every day."

"Especially the Weasley girl," Draco agreed. "Have you seen her? Little thing, nasty red hair, looks to be about seven?"

Pansy tossed her hair over one shoulder. "My mother always says I look mature for my age."

Draco ignored this. "I've got this great plan to get back at all the Gryffindors. I'm going to make them think I want to be friends with them, and hit on that Weasley girl, and then dump her and then turn my back on them all."

"Oh, that's just like you, Draco. It's perfect," Pansy cooed, her eyes gleaming with desire and lust. She lowered her voice. "I'm so glad it'll just be an act. We can still have some private time together, then," and, to Draco's great shock, her hand slid into one of his back pockets and pinched him hard. Damn pointy fingernails, he though angrily.

"Er," said Draco, not knowing quite how to respond. He was rather glad when the carriage arrived at Hogwarts and all four of them climbed out. (Crabbe and Goyle had spent the ride mistily reminiscing about all the sugary treats that were available at the castle.) Pansy flounced away from Draco, going to join Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini, who both looked as if they could kill her for getting to ride with Draco.

Draco was surprised to notice, when his eyes roamed away from Pansy, that Harry, Hermione and Ron were not in the crowd of students filtering through the entranceway to the Great Hall. Arriving first seemed such a Gryffindor thing to do in Draco's mind. He had expected them to be at the head of the line, lecturing everyone on the dangers of the misuse of magic. Well, at least Granger, anyway. The Weasley boy wasn't too smart. And if Granger wasn't talking about something academic, she'd be rambling on about house-elves. The previous year, Draco had the unfortunate assignment of sitting right behind Hermione in Transfiguration, and he'd had the punishment of overhearing multiple conversations involving the wronged enslavement of house-elves.

There was a general sort of rush to get places at the House tables in the Great Hall, but Draco was too distracted to notice when he was dragged into sitting between Millicent and Pansy. He kept looking for Potter, or for Weasley's red hair, at the Gryffindor table, and was surprised to hear Headmaster Dumbledore begin his speech and with the trio still missing.

He smirked. Not only were Harry, Hermione and Ron probably somewhere getting in trouble, it left Ginny alone after the meal.

Catching sight of her flaming hair across the room, Draco smiled. This was an excellent turn of luck.

***

"Oh, this is the worst way to start off the year!" Hermione said, discouraged. "I'm a prefect, and it's only the first day of school, and already we're all in trouble!"

"You weren't there second year," Ron mumbled. "There was that mess of crashing my dad's car into the Whomping Willow. I figure that was way less fun than this."

"Who says we're all going to get in trouble?" Harry asked. "It was me performing the curse. Neither of you did anything wrong."

"It all depends on who catches us," Hermione said. "If it's, say, Filch, then it won't matter which one of us started it; we'll all end up in trouble."

They were tramping towards Hogwarts, whose lights loomed in the distance, although the castle was still a ways off yet. Although it hadn't rained lately in Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Weasleys lived, it was apparent that there had been a lot of moisture falling around Hogwarts, because the ground was soaking wet. It was nearly marsh-like, with patches of mud, puddles and limp grass everywhere. In some places, the grass had grown so high that it was difficult to walk through.

Hermione sighed. "Come on, let's go faster. I don't want to be any later, and I'm afraid we've already missed the Sorting Ceremony and Dumbledore's speech, and so forth…" she trailed off, trying to remember if anything else important happened at the beginning of the year.

"But Hermione," Ron made his voice whiny, sounding scarily similar to Draco Malfoy at times, "my shoes are getting all icky."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Ron, if you don't hurry up, I'll...I'll...I don't know, but I'll think of something really bad," she finished lamely.

"All right, all right, I'm going," Ron said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You'd think I'd suggested visiting the Forbidden Forest on Halloween. I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Harry waited a bit, then whispered to Ron, "I don't think now is a good time to get on her. You know how Hermione is."

"I heard that," she said, but she was smiling a little as she turned to walk backwards so she could face them. "Listen, I'm not really all that angry. Let's just keep going. It's not that much…" she trailed off upon seeing stricken expressions cross both Harry and Ron's faces. "What?" she said, and turned around.

***

Ginny had expected to sit with Hermione at the feast, but now most students were starting on dessert and neither Hermione, Harry nor Ginny's brother had arrived. She frowned, thinking that she had last seen them before Draco started talking to her outside the carriages--which was more than an hour ago now. Where could they all be?

She pushed her pumpkin pie around on her plate absently, ignoring the conversations of the students around her. No one around Ginny was paying much attention to her, either: she was sitting with Lavender and Parvati, engrossed in some sort of conversation arguing the benefits of tea leaves versus tarot cards, and a girl in Ginny's year named Liza who stayed in Ginny's dorm and was generally very quiet.

There was a tap on Ginny's shoulder. She turned around, expecting it to be one of her brothers or Hermione, but there Draco Malfoy stood, smiling pleasantly all the while the Slytherin emblem on his chest gleamed in the light, the silver embroidery flashing in an enticing sort of way.

"Ginny." Draco gestured expansively to her plate. "Are you finished?"

"I…er…yes," she replied; she was, but even if not, she could not have eaten in front of Draco Malfoy. Answering a simple yes-or-no question was difficult enough.

"May I speak with you outside?"

"…Yes," Ginny said, now aware that nearly all the students in the hall were watching this exchange carefully, as if they expected some sort of explosion to occur, either verbally or with magic. But she quickly stood up and followed the straight set of his shoulders out of the Great Hall and into the corridor off the left of the doors.

"Ginny," he said simply, and that one word to her was a caress, more touching than anything that had happened to her since Tom. She knew it wasn't physically possible to melt, of course, but she felt as if she were doing so, as if Draco's gaze and just his presence and the fact that he was saying her name, and saying her name that way, would reduce her to nothing but a floundering puddle of fiery hair and freckled skin. The lighting was dim and it gave a certain surreal effect to the whole scene, and as she considered all this breathlessly, his eyebrows--wondrous, pale-blond, delicately arched eyebrows--knit together, and even though she knew he was expecting her to say something in response she could not think of a single thing at that moment.

If Professor McGonagall had not at that minute approached Ginny and said, "Excuse me, Miss Weasley, I must speak with you a moment," Ginny was not sure what would have happened.

***

"There's something moving over there," Ron said, in a quiet, strangled-sounding voice. "See…just above the top of that hill…"

All three stared at the figure, which was definitely approaching them. No details were visible: the sun was just setting, and the horizon loomed behind the mass of darkness that was getting closer. It really is a mass, Harry thought, in fact it looked like--

"Hagrid," said Hermione with relief. "Look, it's just Hagrid."

Harry could see Hagrid's beetle-black eyes crinkle up in a smile as he approached them. "How yer doin', Harry? I mean' ter write yer some time this summer. I was busy on importan' business with Olympe." He tightened his belt proudly. "'Lo, Ron. And 'Ermione. How yer doin'?"

Hermione started to say, "Well, we're stuck--" but Hagrid frowned and interrupted her to say, "What're yer doin' out here now, anyway? The feast is goin' on. Wish I could be there m'self."

"Our carriage broke down," Harry explained quickly. "I performed a…er…well, a spell, you know, and it disrupted the connection and made the carriage quit."

"Always thought those things were awful touchy," Hagrid said. "Prefer the lake, m'self."

"So we've been walking back," Hermione added, in an obvious attempt for some assistance.

"Wish I could walk yer back, but I got some importan' business to take care of," said Hagrid. "Mi--er, my new pet, she's very picky abou' her food. Been sulkin' for hours 'cause her meat isn' fresh 'nough."

"Well," said Harry, not really wanting to find out what highly dangerous creature Hagrid had adopted now, "we've really got to get going. I'm sure we're already in tons of trouble."

"If I have ter, I'll vouch for yer," said Hagrid. "Jus' to show Dumbledore that yer weren't makin' any trouble out here."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Hermione said sweetly. "We'll see you in class this year."

"Can' wait ter start. Got some real surprises goin' on for yer, later," Hagrid said, and winked. "Get back ter the castle, now, all righ'?"

"'Bye, Hagrid," Harry, Hermione and Ron chorused, and continued walking. Ron lagged behind, clearly tired, while Hermione and Harry forged on ahead through the weeds. Harry saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Hermione shivering. He was close enough to see the goose bumps raised on her arms.

"Wish I hadn't left my sweater on the train," she said, and smiled at him. "It's a little chilly now that the sun's gone down."

Harry stopped walking for a moment and pulled off the gray sweater with the Gryffindor emblem that he was wearing. He had put it on after he'd passed out from the Dark Mark and had felt weak and clammy. Now, though, he was perfectly comfortable in his t-shirt, and didn't even really mind all the walking. In fact, were they not preparing to be in so much trouble, Harry would have enjoyed the trek to the castle.

"Here," he said lightly, and handed his sweater to Hermione. "I don't really need it, so you might as well have it."

The look she gave him was filled with gratitude. "Thank you," said Hermione emphatically, and pulled it over her head. Although it fit Harry comfortably, the sleeves nearly covered Hermione's hands and it hung loose on her slender frame.

Glancing up to look at the sky for a moment, Harry didn't see Hermione trip over the rock and fall, though he heard her cry out.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked, kneeling down beside her, and glancing up to see Ron on her other side. Her hands were muddy, so Harry and Ron each grasped one of her forearms and helped pull her up.

"I think so," she replied, frowning disapprovingly at her dirty hands. "My knee's a little scraped up, but I'll make it there. I can't tell if it's bleeding…" Hermione took one of Harry's hands to help her balance, and bent down to examine her left knee. Harry and Ron looked, too, and all three of them grimaced upon looking--the skin was roughly scraped off the entire area, blood was quickly welling, and it was covered in dirt.

"We should probably clean it out the best we can," Ron said, wincing a little at the sight of the wound. "It's full of mud, and it's a ways yet to Hogwarts."

"Clean it with what?" Hermione asked, her voice a little more unsteady than usual. "I don't have anything with me…"

Ron's eyebrows drew together for a moment, then one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Harry," he said, very seriously, "give me one of your socks."

That caught Harry off-guard for a moment. "Sock?" he asked. "Why my sock?"

Ron looked a little embarrassed. "I'm not wearing any," he replied.

"I don't want Harry's dirty sock infecting my knee," Hermione said, looking behind to find the driest place possible and lowering herself on to the ground. She stretched out her left leg, the injured one, a little straighter, and gave a little gasp of pain as she did so.

"Well, think of some spell to clean it, then, or something," Ron replied. "Do you think it's a good idea to Summon something from Hogwarts?"

"No, I suppose that might just get us in more trouble," Hermione said distractedly. "I guess it'll be all right."

"Fine," Harry muttered, pulling off one shoe. "Here, Ron, take it," he added, as he pulled off his right sock and stuffed his foot back in his shoe. "I suppose I can afford to lose one sock."

"Well, you'll get it back," Hermione offered hopefully. "I'll hang on to it, and we can wash it once we get to the castle. Here, Ron, give it to me and I'll do the spell."

"I would hope so," Harry replied, as Hermione murmured something that turned the sock almost blindingly white, and gave it back to Ron. "I don't particularly want it full of…well, dirt and your blood, for example."

"This might sting a little," Ron warned, and bravely swiped Harry's sock across Hermione's knee. Harry saw the muscles in her jaw clench tightly, but he didn't say anything. Harry was still standing up, but he lightly put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She fumbled for his fingers and grasped them tightly as Ron tried to remove as much of the grit and blood as possible. It was obviously painful for Hermione--Harry'd had similar injuries, and winced a little to think of how much they had stung. Even falling into the rosebushes from a second-story window hadn't given him as expansive scrapes as Hermione's knee.

"There," said Ron finally, satisfied, and stood up from the position he'd been crouched in. "That's as good as I can do."

Both boys helped Hermione in standing again, and Harry could see her biting her lip as she courageously took a step forward, then another. She shrugged off Harry and Ron's assistance and bravely plowed forward. In fact, when she had gone a couple of steps, she turned around to face Harry and Ron, who hadn't yet moved. "Well?" she challenged, her eyebrows raising. "Come on, let's go. I don't want this to get infected."

Harry could see the blood welling and starting to run down Hermione's shin as she faced them, although the actual wound was covered up by the end of her pleated skirt that was part of her school uniform. Hastily, Harry began to walk again, and pulled Ron along with him. The rest of the journey to the castle was a fairly silent one--Hermione was gritting her teeth from the pain, and Harry and Ron were hurrying to catch up with her.

***

Remus couldn't sleep. He could hear Sirius moving around in the next room, and wondered if this was what it was always going to be like, being a criminal. Being a murderer, he told himself. He had killed a little boy. He remembered it; oh, God, he remembered it. The boy's eyes had been hazel, not as green as Harry's, for example, but wide and innocent nonetheless. He'd had pale skin, and sandy blond hair cut short.

Remus didn't even know the boy's name. He had taken a life, snuffed it out, destroyed the potential for some poor, innocent child. It was tearing him up inside.

He shifted gently, acutely aware of his protesting body. Despite the fact that he'd been unconscious for so many weeks, and all he had done since Sirius had found him was lie in bed, he still felt as if he'd at some point been beaten to within an inch of his life and was still recuperating. While the werewolf change and back always left him out of sorts for a couple of days, he'd never felt so fully like he never wanted to get up again.

Part of it was, of course, that he didn't want to face reality. He'd seen it in Sirius' face, seen the change that had come over his friend's expression, though he tried to cover it up. Sirius had been horrified, much like Remus had when he'd heard the (albeit false) news about Sirius killing James and Lily. Remus had seen Sirius' reaction, and had hated himself for making his friend look like that. If he got out of bed, other people would have to find out, and he would deeply hurt them all. He wished he could just close his eyes and shut it all out, but it was impossible to sleep. Images would flash across his closed eyelids like a slide show, and he couldn't stand to see anything more.

He spent quite a bit of time wondering who had broken into his house and forced the potion on him. He suspected that in some way, shape or form it was Voldemort behind all of it, but it had definitely not been the Dark Lord that entered his house. He was fairly sure that he hadn't recognized the voice--although sometimes Remus would get an odd feeling in the back of his mind that maybe it was familiar, just barely so, a voice he hadn't heard spoken in years.

Remus desperately hoped it wasn't Snape. Sirius' eyes had flashed dangerously at the mention of his nemesis, and if it did turn out to be Snape, then Remus knew that Sirius would tear Snape to bits in a matter of seconds, no matter what the consequences. And then they would both be murderers, and even worse off than now, despite how dismal things might seem already.

How weak the resistance effort against the Dark Lord was, Remus thought, how weak! Here he was, in a shack in the middle of nowhere, with Sirius Black, an Azkaban escapee, and neither of them in any shape to start anything. They were supposed to be leading the resistance effort. It was only a miracle, a miracle named Harry Potter, that was keeping the good in the world alive.

Remus shuddered. The boy had been so much like Harry: not in looks, maybe, but in the youth and innocence.

***

Draco had wanted to scream with frustration when Professor McGonagall interrupted his conversation with Ginny. He could see in Ginny's eyes that he was beginning to get to her--something, he was sure, would have happened, had they not been interrupted. But they had, and Professor McGonagall had spoken to Ginny and then escorted her away, and Draco was left alone in the front hall of Hogwarts.

Thoughtfully, he perched on the arm of a bench, and absently wondered where Harry and his followers were. Draco still hadn't seen them, and found this rather odd.

"Draco," said a thick voice behind him, and Crabbe and Goyle were there, flanking him as usual. They looked particularly average, which was to say exceptionally dull, and seemed to have nothing to say. Draco paused momentarily to consider whether or not to speak to them, but was interrupted by the creak of a door being opened--one of the large ones at the main entrance to Hogwarts.

He was not extremely surprised to see Harry come in, holding the door open for Ron, and then Hermione, who looked worse for the wear. Hermione had a huge bloody mess on one knee, which was so gruesome that even Draco flinched a little to see it. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle started to laugh.

"Look," Goyle said between snorts, "it's a Mudblood! Look at her leg--can't you tell?"

Draco was momentarily taken back by the cleverness of Goyle's remark, then recognized his opportunity and seized it. "What did you say?"

Crabbe managed to stop laughing long enough to explain. "He said she's a Mudblood. Don't you see? There's all the mud and blood and--"

"I get it," Draco said though clenched teeth. "I just don't think it's very funny."

Hermione, who was now being supported on either side by Ron and Harry, was staring puzzledly at Draco for the second time that day. All three Gryffindors seemed to have trouble speaking as they watched this display.

"But--" Goyle said, obviously confused. "This is what we do, Draco. It's Potter and his sidekicks. Aren't we supposed to make fun of them?"

"Not anymore," Draco replied confidently. "I think it's more importantly that we all just get along."

Now all five of the people that were in the front hallway besides Draco were staring at him. Finally, Harry made a move to steer Hermione in the direction of the Infirmary, and Ron followed, still glancing back behind him every couple of seconds as if he expected Draco to change his mind. Draco just stood there, however, smiling and even giving Ron a little wave as the red-haired boy continued in the opposite direction.

Once they had gone far enough away, Draco let the built-up fury flash across his face and grabbed both Crabbe and Goyle by their shirt collars. He narrowed his gaze, looking from one to the other. "You listen to me, all right? I know you think I've gone off the deep end, but I haven't. It's intentional, all right? I'm going to have to be nice to them for a little bit, so that this plan I have can work, don't you remember, nitwits? You came up with it, I believe, Goyle. In July? At the ice-cream parlor?"

"Oh," Crabbe said thickly. "Right. The thing with the Weasley girl. You're still going through with that?"

"Yes, I'm still going through with that!" Draco barked exasperatedly. "I want to win our bet, remember? Although it's not going to work if you don't play along. Just--well, you don't have to be nice to them, just don't be mean. Stay quiet is what I'm saying, I guess."

"All right, all right," Goyle said. "We'll do it. Just let us go."

"Yeah," agreed Crabbe. "We need to go to the kitchen. I'm hungry."

Draco rolled his eyes "Have a good time. Remember what I said, all right? If you disobey, heads will roll. Stomachs will churn. And I will point and mock."

Both larger boys nodded, seemingly a little apprehensive of Draco's rage. They scampered away, or at least some equivalent of scampering for people that are the size of gorillas, leaving Draco once again alone.

***

Hermione dug her fingernails into her palms as Madam Pomfrey cleansed her knee, with both magic and then hydrogen peroxide. It stung so badly that tears came to her eyes and threatened to spill over, although she blinked repeatedly in an attempt to keep them back.

"All done," Madam Pomfrey said, with a satisfied smile at Hermione. "That should prevent an infection. Now I'm just going to bandage you up, and then you're off to bed. Your knee will be a little stiff for a few days, but by tomorrow you should be able to get around fairly well. If it hurts too much you can come to me and I'll give you a Pain-Relieving Potion."

Hermione nodded, although she would hardly lower herself to the level of admitting she was in pain. Also, she hadn't yet had dinner, but the idea of hobbling her way down to the Great Hall seemed too difficult. And although she had finally gotten to sleep at midnight the previous night, they'd all had to get up extra-early and she was tired.

Madam Pomfrey assisted her in sliding off the bed she'd been sitting on in the Infirmary, then watched as Hermione limped to the door. She could put weight on her leg, but it throbbed with pain, and she couldn't stand to bend her knee at all.

Only a little bit further, she told herself, using the wall for support to walk slowly to the Gryffindor common room. But when she arrived at the portrait hole, she nearly cried with frustration, for she had no idea of the new term's password.

"Bugger," Hermione muttered fiercely, and lowered herself to lean against the cool stone wall on which hung the Fat Lady. She hoped it wouldn't be long, but had no way to tell--she had been whisked off to Madam Pomfrey right away, and the nurse had shooed away Harry and Ron. Presumably, Hermione figured, they had gone to the Feast.

Wishing she had Practical Applications of Arithmancy to read, Hermione glanced around for something to focus her attention on. Nothing was particularly engaging--most of the portraits were asleep, and the stone walls certainly hadn't changed.

Slowly she bent over to examine the bandage on her knee. Several layers of white gauze were wrapped with medical tape, covering several inches of her leg. She sighed, feeling the throbbing ache of her injury. She almost wished she had asked Madam Pomfrey for a Pain-Relieving Charm.

Hearing voices in the corridor, Hermione straightened and looked up expectantly. Seamus Finnigan appeared, followed by a laughing, chattering group of second-years.

"Hermione!" Seamus hurried forward, bending down to kneel beside her. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"The carriage from the train station to Hogwarts broke down, and Harry, Ron and I had to walk," she explained as the golden-haired boy helped her stand. "I tripped over a rock and split my knee open, and I've just been to Madam Pomfrey. My only problem now is I don't know the new password."

"It's Ice Mice," Seamus said, one arm around Hermione's waist as she hobbled along. Before, she had declined the assistance of Ron or Harry, but now that she was almost to her dormitory, the desire to go climb in bed and get off her knee overcame her desire to be independent and strong.

The portrait hole swung open, and Hermione carefully stepped over the threshold. She was acutely aware of Seamus' hand, clasped against her ribcage. It was odd for Hermione to be touched by any boy other than Harry or Ron.

The Gryffindor common room was mostly empty: Hermione presumed that most of the students were still enjoying the feast in the Great Hall, or at least hanging around the tables talking or laughing. Seamus smiled brightly at her as they crossed the room.

"How was your summer?" he asked politely. "Other than today, I suppose."

"It was good," Hermione said, wincing a little as her foot caught for a second and she almost stumbled. Seamus' grip tightened on her waist as she added, "I spent some time with Viktor Krum, and went to Diagon Alley and met up with Harry and Ron in June. I spent a lot of time reading, too, I suppose."

"That sounds like you," Seamus said cheerfully as they began to mount the stairs that led to the girls' dormitory.

"What did you do over the break?" Hermione asked, more out of politeness than anything else. She was desperate to get to her room, and more importantly, her bed.

"I had a good time. Played some Quidditch, traveled around Ireland a bit with my parents. Pretty normal stuff."

"That sounds fun," Hermione said, finally stepping over the last stair and limping in the direction of her room.

"Well," Seamus said, stopping at the door, "I don't think I'm allowed to come any further, but will you be all right?"

"I'm fine," Hermione replied confidently. "Er…thank you. I suppose…I'll see you in class tomorrow or something."

"Goodnight. I hope your knee feels better," he called as he began descending the stairs.

Hermione opened the door to her dormitory with a sense of great relief. She stumbled, hurrying a little, over to her bed, and collapsed on it, flat on her back.

She lay for a few moments, blankly staring upwards but not really seeing anything, before she made herself get up and dig through her trunk, which had thankfully already been brought up to her room, to find her pajamas. Shedding all her other clothes, too tired to do anything more than scatter them across the floor, Hermione yanked her nightgown over her head just as two more girls entered the room.

"Hermione!" Lavender squealed, and ran across the room to launch herself at Hermione, who smiled bemusedly at the embrace. Parvati followed, and the three girls hugged for a moment. Although Hermione had never really been close to Lavender and Parvati, they were enjoyable enough to share a room with, since she certainly couldn't live with Harry and Ron. Also, especially after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, nearly everyone at Hogwarts had become a little closer.

Pulling away, Parvati asked with concern, "What happened to your leg, Hermione?"

Realizing that her nightgown, which would normally extend to her ankles, had only been pulled down partway, Hermione let go of Lavender to smooth out the wrinkles and adjust it. She explained, once again, what had happened on the way to Hogwarts, and the two girls made appropriate sympathetic noises while they listened.

"So did Harry carry you all the way here?" Lavender asked, a mischievious glint in her eyes. "I saw him tonight and was surprised by how much taller he is, and I bet he's stronger too!"

Hermione restrained from rolling her eyes, and tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "No, I walked back. I don't really think about Harry and Ron in that way, you know. They're just my friends."

Parvati raised her eyebrows. "If you say so. I think it could definitely turn into way much more." She grinned. "Just leave Ron for me. I mean, can you say gorgeous? He's so tan from the summer!"

"Please don't tell me you two are going to be like this all year," Hermione groaned, flopping back on to her pillow. "You can have Ron. And Harry, too. I don't want them like that."

"Oh, Harry's not available," Lavender said airily. "We all know he's only got eyes for you, Hermione. He practically never even talks to any other girls!"

"That's just because we're friends," Hermione protested. "I mean…Harry spends just as much time with me as he does with Ron." At this, Lavender and Parvati burst into giggles. "That's not what I meant!" she said fiercely, feeling her face flush. "I'm just saying…the three of us are friends, and that's all."

"We'll see how long that lasts," Parvati mock-whispered to Lavender. "A Galleon that Harry and Hermione will hook up by the end of the year."

Lavender snorted derisively. "I'm not going to bet against that, silly. I agree with you."

Hermione just moaned into her pillow and rolled to face away from them. For Merlin's sake, she thought, Harry doesn't even like me in that way. And I don't like him.

She ignored the protesting voice at the back of her head that disagreed.

***

Much later that night, Ron sat quietly curled up on the window seat that overlooked the lake at Hogwarts. The castle was chilly at night, so Ron had his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He pressed his nose to the windowpane and stared outside, his gaze flicking to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

He had woken up from another one of the nightmares.

He thought back to when they had started, which was after he had been to Diagon Alley. Nothing particularly terrifying had happened during that time--sure, he had crashed into that wall on the SkyThunder, but that was less terrifying than just a haze of pain. He tried to remember ever being particularly afraid then, but he couldn't--he recalled hitting the wall, and the first strike of agony through his limbs, and then hitting the floor. Harry's face had sort of floated above him, and then there was blackness. He had awoken a few days later to his parents' anxious faces, and Harry and Hermione had later come to visit.

But there was really no fear in all of that time. He had certainly been more afraid when faced with Aragog and the other spiders second year, when he got trapped in the Chamber of Secrets, when he was in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius Black, and so forth. There wasn't even anything he could think of that had happened around then that would have jarred his subconscious into recalling some terrifying memory and repeating it for him in his sleep. There was no logical reason for why he would be having terrible nightmares every single time he slept.

Absently Ron wondered if Hermione had looked up the potion to brew for wanting to remember dreams yet. He would ask her tomorrow, he decided, assuming she was all right and all. She would be glad to hear that it had been McGonagall to hear their story and that Harry was the only one of them who had a detention, and since it would be served with McGonagall, it shouldn't be too bad for him. Ron and Harry had tried to stay and wait for her in the Infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted they leave.

Most of the school had remained in the Great Hall, even though they were mostly done eating by the time Harry and Ron had arrived. The teachers had basically disappeared too, likely to prepare for the start of their classes the next day. Ron had a sudden thought that he didn't know who the DADA teacher was. Grimly he remembered that it certainly wouldn't be Lupin.

A noise at the glass shocked him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to see a snowy white owl tapping at the window. "Hedwig!" Ron said quietly, and reached up for the latch to let Harry's owl in. She fluttered inside to perch on the windowseat as Ron shut the window. He tried to take the letter tied to her leg, but she nipped at his fingers and gave an indignant sort of squawk.

Ron hated to wake up Harry, but it seemed that Hedwig would have it no other way. Taking a few steps forward, Ron crossed the room to where Harry slept and pulled back the curtain. Ron looked at Harry for a few moments, jealous that his friend could fall asleep so quickly and look so peaceful.

"Harry," Ron whispered, and when that didn't work, said it again, louder. "Harry. Wake up. Hedwig's here with a letter."

"Wha…?" Harry asked sleepily, frowning at Ron out of one squinting eye. He looked dazed.

"Hedwig. With a letter. Probably from Sirius."

"…Oh," Harry said, and, fumbling for his glasses, climbed out of bed and over to the faint light of the window where Hedwig stood, slightly crumpled piece of parchment tied to her leg. Ron watched Harry's face, which was expressionless as he read it. Apparently, it was not a long letter, because Harry took it and smashed it into a ball after a couple of seconds. In a very un-Harry gesture, he threw the wadded parchment across the room, where it hit the wall, then the floor, and rolled for a couple of feet.

Ron was a little afraid to ask, but made himself say, "What is it?"

"She brought my letter back," Harry said quietly, but Ron could discern the anger behind his tone. "That's never happened before. I guess she couldn't find him."

Ron didn't have any response to this knowledge. He and Harry stood, motionless and silent, on the cold stone floor in the middle of the night.

***

Ginny was really not very surprised to enter her dormitory and find a pink envelope laid gently on her pillow. She had expected her secret admirer to follow her to Hogwarts, especially if he was there himself. Smiling, she sat down on the mattress and opened the letter. As always, it unfolded, spoke a four-line rhyming poem to her, and turned into a rose. Wary of the thorns, Ginny picked it up with two fingers and laid it lightly on her bedside table.

She changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed, then curled up under the blankets and hugged a pillow close to her. Her mind wandered to Draco, and she thought again of the intensity between them in the front hallway and wondered what would have happened had Professor McGonagall not interrupted to tell her that they couldn't find her brother. That piece of news had quickly diverted her attention from Draco, and she was relieved to see Ron and Harry come into the common room later, albeit disheveled and dirty. They told her what had happened to them and she simply nodded--after spending three years around them, Ginny had learned that accidents and adventures just sort of chased after Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Excepting the Chamber of Secrets, nothing particularly interesting ever happened to Ginny. That was partially why she was so fascinated by the roses from her secret admirer--it seemed more the thing to happen to Lavender or Parvati or possibly Cho Chang, although Ginny hadn't seen the Ravenclaw girl at school yet. The roses were something that was entirely hers, and very mysterious, and puzzling even to Hermione. Although Ginny constantly wondered who they were from, she realized that a part of her didn't really want to know--she just wanted to keep on getting the romantic flowers. They had become part of her daily routine, and she had gotten used to the moment of attention showered on her every day. And now Draco.

Ginny glanced down at herself, examining her body critically. She was still a tiny girl, with pale, freckled skin, flaming hair, and brown eyes. As far as she could see, there was nothing particularly amazing or stunningly beautiful about her. She was just average, with her crimson hair balancing out with things like a very typical, although not unattractive, nose and mouth. It was a mystery to her why any boy would want to send her a rose every day for two months--and especially if he didn't know very well, which he couldn't, because the only boys that did were her brothers.

She had to admit that the attention from Draco, in addition, was nice. It made her feel special, as if she had been personally chosen to be made more popular or something. Although she didn't understand why he was paying attention to her, a small part of Ginny told her not to question it, just to enjoy, and so she listened to it.

Laying with her curtains drawn shut around her in the dark and the silence, Ginny felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. Her dormmates had gone to bed before she returned after visiting the library for a bit after the feast. Ginny also desperately hoped that now that she was back at school, her nightmares would stop, because if they didn't, all the girls in her year would know.

Yawning, Ginny didn't feel like that was much of a possibility. Her eyes were closed, and she could feel herself moving closer and closer towards sleep, but she was almost so comfortable that she didn't want to fall unconscious and lose the feeling. But it was too difficult to stay awake any longer. Visions flashed and faded in her head as she drifted off to sleep, pink roses intermingled with love letters and the green-and-silver of the Slytherin emblem and Draco's eyes, focused entirely on Ginny. At the particular moment when he'd spoken to her, they had been the metallic gray of mercury of rainclouds, although through her years at school with him she'd seen a thousand different shades of gray reflected in his irises.

Ginny's last thought was that the color of Draco's eyes was hard to define, because it changed to reflect his every mood swing, and she had never seen anything so attractive in her life.

***