Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

Harry eyed Professor McGonagall warily; he didn't know why she was so upset, but she seemed just as livid as she had been with the Gryffindors and Slytherins earlier in the week. Burke was sitting in a chair next to Harry, his face calm and unworried. Thia was standing near the door, watching them all coolly. Both men were waiting for the Headmistress to speak, but she remained silent, glaring at them over her interlinked fingers. The minutes ticked by with no one saying anything.

Harry turned his head to look around the room, a ghost image of the old furnishings and decorations from his memory overlaying what was now there. All the furniture was different, chosen for functionality over comfort. Well, all but two pieces, and even those lacked the same overstuffed comfort of Albus Dumbledore's sofa and chair. McGonagall's were positioned quite similarly, though the chair was on the other side of the small coffee table positioned in front of the fire. The tartan upholstery was quite different from the stripped purple and blue of Dumbledore's. On the chair lazed a large, dark grey kneazle whose golden eyes were surveying them all regally.

The most important difference—and the one that caused Harry's heart to jump to his throat—was hanging on the wall behind him as he sat staring into the flames. Harry finally turned his head and looked at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which hung beside Phineas Nigellus. The wise man had been painted on the shore of the Lake, Hogwarts' Castle towering in the background. Dumbledore was stretched out, arms behind his head, and appeared to be sleeping. He had never been awake any of the times Harry had been in the office since it had been hung shortly after Christmas. Harry didn't know if it was feigned sleep or not, but Dumbledore looked unbelievably happy and peaceful and it forced Harry to realize just how much the past several years had affected the man. He hoped the sleep was real; Dumbledore deserved a bit of rest.

"I do not know what to say," McGonagall finally spoke, her voice carefully controlled. "I can not even begin to express how truly disappointed I am in both of you. Fighting like a pair of school children and in front of the students!"

"We were doing an exhibition on dueling," Burke started, but McGonagall cut him off.

"Do not lie to me, Anwellus," McGonagall said sternly. "This was nothing more than a well-planned pub fight." She pointed a finger at Harry who had opened his mouth. "Don't you say a word, Potter. I expected more from my Head Boy and Defense Professor. I see my hope that you both would work out your differences as adults was misplaced.

"Anwellus, I may not agree with all your methods, but I can not deny that you are an excellent teacher. I have not seen fifth years as well prepared for their O.W.L.'s since Remus was here. Anything I do disagree with is isolated to your advance class, and even they are excelling beyond anything I've seen since Albus become Headmaster. So, I let you be.

"Mr. Potter, I let you drop Professor Burke's class knowing that you would continue to have problems during the D.A. I had hoped you would realize how pointless and harmful your squabbling was and how important both," she laid a heavy stress on the word and paused before continuing, "of your classes are. The students are working twice as hard, taking twice as many classes, covering twice as much material than they would otherwise—and they want to. Heaven knows just how much that will come in handy."

There was silence as everyone thought over what McGonagall had said. In Harry's case, it was the fact that he didn't know what to say that kept him quiet. Now that he thought about it, Ginny never complained about Burke. The fifth and sixth years always seemed aghast when the seventh years started harping on about him. And McGonagall was right; the students needed all the preparation and training that they could get.

"Having you two squabbling does nothing to help accomplish your goals. Anwellus, the advance class is too busy hating you on Harry's behalf to really learn from you. Mr. Potter, the seventh years are too busy complaining with you to learn from you. And it is our seventh years that need this training the most, for it is they who will graduate this year and be out there as targets." Again, they were silent. Harry could feel his stomach fall and his cheeks start to burn. McGonagall was right of course—she always was. Their petty fighting was distracting everyone from more important things.

"Really, Anwellus, taking on a student! You are a better man than that!"

"He's no student!"

"I'm no student!"

Harry and Burke looked at one another, horror-struck that they had said the same thing at the same time. Thia gave a small chuckle from behind them, gaining Minerva's attention.

"And you, Thia, allowing this to happen," McGonagall said. Before she could go on, Thia cut her off.

"Minerva, though you have very valid points that I completely agree with, I had to let them," she said, explaining herself. McGonagall raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "It's better to keep duels like this above ground and controlled than to force them underground and uncontrolled. I've seen too many Aurors sent to a healer or worse to not referee this duel. Harry and Burke, whether Burke wants to admit it or not, are well matched. It was not the case of a teacher preying on a student. I really don't have the foggiest idea of who would have won if you hadn't interfered."

McGonagall pursed her lips, but eventually nodded. There was another long pause as Harry stared out the window. A large telescope stood on a tri-pod before it. A huge bird flew past heckled by several smaller ones.

"Harry, you will serve a week's worth of detentions," she finally said. The use of his first name reassured him; McGonagall never used his first name unless she had calmed down. "Anwellus, Professor Snape will replace you as the second supervisor to the D.A."

"Snape!" Burke exclaimed, his incredulous voice louder than he had meant.

"Yes, Severus."

"Why not Filius? Or even Thia?"

"Thia is not a staff member and Filius has already replacing me as the other supervisor," McGonagall said, her voice frosty once more. Burke caught the change and wisely kept his mouth shut. The Headmistress stood, readying to leave.

"Wait, Minerva, how did you find out about the duel?" Thia asked.

"Both Filius and Severus overheard you on your way to the duel, you were muttering about the idiocy of the male persuasion. They were on their way up to a Heads meeting and mentioned it to me. I guessed what was going on from that and knowing that Anwellus was supervising the D.A. today." McGonagall gestured to the door. "Now, it is dinner time, so let us all go eat."

That evening everyone was unusually quiet. All the seventh years were at one table working on different essays and the like. Ginny and her sixth year friends were at the table behind them; she was perfectly situated so that when both she and Harry tilted their chairs back they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. (Neither of them could explain to Ron how that had just happened, they hadn't planned it! Honest!) Fifth years sat at the other table next to the seventh years, busily working on their O.W.L. prep-work.

Though having all the upper years so diligently working would normally cut the volume level in half, it was still unnaturally quiet for the normally boisterous Gryffindors. This wouldn't have bothered Harry, who was busy working on the end of term project for Potions, except that it really was too quiet. The older students' mood had filtered out and affected the younger years who were still unsettled by the events of the past week. Harry actually missed the chatter of the little firsties; he'd never realized how dependant he was on the background noise.

He put down his quill quite a bit harder than he'd intended and frowned when he realized he had broken the tip. He looked around at his classmates and asked, "Okay, what's the matter?"

Everyone raised their heads to silently look at Harry. Each one of them was either a D.A. member or had best friends who were. Ron cleared his throat nervously. Neville fidgeted in his chair. Ginny gave a small shrug. Colin Creevey laughed uncertainly. His younger brother, Dennis, just looked stunned.

"You were scary," Dean finally admitted quietly. Harry felt his mouth drop; of all the possible answers that was not one he had expected to hear. "I mean, not scary, but—"

"But bloody quick," Dennis added when Dean faltered.

"And I can't tell you half the spells you used," Hermione chimed in. "Either I missed them or I didn't know them."

"I've never seen you fight like that," Ginny added, a note of pride and a little trepidation in her voice. "Not in dueling practice or training with Bryant."

"It was scary," Seamus reiterated, looking down at his parchment guiltily. "Glad you're on our side."

"Come off it," Harry said with a half-grin, not quite sure how to take this or if they were just trying to have him on.

"No, seriously, mate, it was faster than bloody hell," Ron assured him.

"That duel had to be at least fifteen minutes long," Harry said but stopped when everyone shook their heads.

"No, I timed it," Lavender said, pointing to her watch. "It was six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. McGonagall arrived a minute or two in, but it took a bit for Ron to figure out how to let her voice in through the shield to stop you both."

"Not to mention she was just as amazed as we were," Colin added.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" asked Erin Ferguson, a sixth year D.A. member.

"Yeah," Ron added, almost accusingly. "I've never seen you fight like that against Thia or any of the others."

"I—I don't know," Harry finally answered. "I didn't feel any faster. Maybe it's the double-A classes I've had with Shacklebolt. Though... a week's worth of classes shouldn't make that much of a difference."

"Maybe..." Hermione said thoughtfully. "Burke is a new opponent, someone you actually don't like and are angry with, and someone you couldn't stand losing to. You were both so angry. I think you were pushing each other."

"So you were all quiet because you're afraid I'll go ballistic on you?" Harry said, teasing them.

"No, out of awe and wonder," Ginny said only half-teasingly back. There were several nods in agreement.

"Is Burke really not allowed to supervise?" a fifth year asked.

"Yeah, it was his punishment," Harry answered.

"Oh, that's too bad, I liked him," Dennis said. The looks of disbelief on the seventh years' faces silenced him, but also reminded Harry of something.

"What is he like in your lessons?" he asked Ginny, leaning back to get a look at her.

"Not the sick, perverted git he was" (Ron muttered, "Still is.") "in yours," she said grimly. "Nor the jealous prat he is during D.A. I think it's just you, luv. You two seem to bring out the worst in each other."

"Well, our lessons sure haven't improved," Parvati complained. "Really, that textbook is quite disgustingly horrid."

"He's good, very thorough," Ginny said, actually answering Harry's question. "I've liked the lessons with him."

"He's really good in the regular seventh year Defense lessons as well," Marissa added. "No disgusting textbook or anything."

"You know—" Dean said, his face taking on a horrified look. "I'm actually reading three First War history books right now. I can't stand the textbook, but I don't want to miss any fact that could be in it. Those quizzes are a nightmare in and of themselves."

There were quiet mumblings from the other members of the advance class, most agreeing with Dean. Harry shook his head. If Burke had done this on purpose—he was a brilliant git. If not—he was a very lucky git. Either way, he was still a git.

Harry knocked on Professor Snape's office door the next Thursday, butterflies diving and swooping in his stomach. Potions classes had continued just as abnormally normal as the first one had. Due to Harry's detention on Monday, the second Occlumency/Legilimency lesson had been cancelled. However, Snape had made it quite clear to McGonagall that Harry could serve his detention after the lesson with him today.

"Come in," Snape called, his voice neutral and polite. Harry opened the door, feeling the butterflies do a particularly unsettling loop. Snape sat behind his desk and Harry was relieved to see that the decorations from the birthday prank were missing.

The various potion ingredients floated malevolently in their juices on the shelves along both walls. Harry hadn't felt this threatened in this office since he had snooped into Snape's memory back in fifth year. He took the seat in front of Snape's desk. "Don't sit." Snape stood suddenly and stalked past Harry into the hallway. Harry stood and followed him, not sure if he should, but unwilling to be left in the office alone.

He caught up with the man easily; Snape's limp slowed him down quite a bit. Snape was leading him deeper into the dungeons, into areas that Harry had never traveled before. Harry found himself completely disoriented and lost, though Snape seemed to know exactly where he was going. He came to an abrupt stop in front of a portrait.

"Do you know where you are?" Snape asked, his voice quiet, yet it echoed in the stillness of the dark corridor. Harry shook his head, his eyes fixed on the portrait.

The silhouette of a woman stood at the top of a cliff over-looking the sea, her back to them. Her hair and gown fluttered in the wind towards them, her arms were outstretched as if to fly. Just as that thought finished in Harry's mind, she fell forwards, tipping off the cliff. Her somersaulting silhouette had Harry transfixed. Just as he was sure she was going to crash into the waves and rocks below, she transformed into a breathtakingly beautiful bird. The bird gracefully wheeled its way back to the top of the cliff where it transformed into the woman once more.

"Fascinating isn't it?" Harry nodded his head, mesmerized as the woman stepped to the edge of the cliff once more. Her arms came up from her side, outstretched as if to fly. "Aithne the Woeful. Only known human to transform into a phoenix as an animagus. The artist titled this the 'Suicide of the Phoenix'. Quite... transfixing. Aithne's legends are among my favorites that are connected to the Founders."

"Founders?"

"She was Rowena and Salazar's eldest daughter," Snape answered. "Desiderium et talio." The portrait swung open to reveal a suite of rooms. "Enter." Harry stepped into the drawing room hesitantly. He stood awkwardly just inside the door, and Snape swept past him. The Potions Master took off his over-robe, laying it across the back of an armchair.

Harry moved forward, trying to think of any student who knew where the Slytherin Head slept at night and trying not to think of the feeling he had of being a bug that had crawled onto a hungry spider's web. He couldn't think of anyone who had been in these rooms, though he supposed the Slytherins had to know where their Head slept.

"Make yourself comfortable," Snape said graciously, walking over to a hutch and busying himself with something. Fawkes gave a short trill in greeting from his perch next to the fireplace. Harry walked over to the bird, which preened under the attention Harry gave him.

"I thought we'd... come to terms with what happened last week," Snape said, his tone careful and guarded. The Slytherin held two goblets of mulled wine in his hands. "It's long past time for us to have a serious conversation about where we stand. Please, have a seat."

Harry took a seat on the sofa, accepting the wine from Snape. The room they were in was elegantly decorated; deep blues, reds, greens, and a warm orange-yellow combining into quite an interestingly attractive décor. Though, even with all the elegance, the room was missing the comfy warmth of the Gryffindor common room that Harry knew and loved.

Two armchairs were on either side of the sofa Harry was sitting on, Snape taking the chair to Harry's left (the robe was on the one to the right). Small tables with spindly legs stood between each of the chairs and the sofa, small coasters sitting on them for their drinks. A small hutch held a decent drink selection and this was from where the mulled wine had come from. A fire burned off to his right, a much worn and quite comfortable chair sitting before it. A door led off to the right of the fireplace, and bookshelves lined the wall to the left. A fine tapestry hung on the wall directly before Harry, showing four youths in front of a small collection of buildings surrounding a tower. Harry recognized the cliff as the one Hogwarts now rested upon. To his left were more bookshelves and another door. Snape cleared his throat, bringing Harry's attention back to the man.

"Do you approve?"

"Who are they?" Harry asked in response, pointing at the tapestry.

"The Founders," Snape replied. "They were all orphans; all grew up with the same adoptive mother and teacher, Hogwart. She was quite a person, even if a reader only believes half the stories. To be given charge over four vastly different children, from such difficult and different backgrounds, and pull it off without them killing each other was a feat few could have done. She was quite the witch, Hogwart was." Snape finished respectfully.

"Hogwarts School... it's actually possessive," Harry said with a nod of his head. "You're quite an expert."

"It is one of my hobbies, researching the legends that surround them," Snape replied. "What do you say to that talk?"

"As you wish," Harry replied, the butterflies reappearing quite suddenly.

"No, only if you wish," Snape countered. "This you have to agree to and completely want to do." Harry looked into his goblet, trying to avoid Snape's eyes.

"Alright, what exactly did you have in mind?" Harry asked, looking up and over at the man. Snape raised one eyebrow regally, waiting for Harry to speak. "I'm... sorry that I lost control."

"And I for pushing you," Snape offered. "I should have pulled out—"

"No, this is exactly what you're supposed to prepare me for!"

"Do you think the Dark Lord will be able to get through your defenses because he said something that felt like a betrayal?" Snape spat. "No, it was wrong of me to linger in your mind."

"I—I—" Harry closed his stammering mouth, swallowing heavily. His eyes wandered the room. Small pictures sat on the mantle of the fireplace, a witch and two children smiling from many of them. "I just wanted to say—thank you." He stared into his wine, finding the contents of the goblet quite fascinating.

"Whatever for?" Snape asked, his voice quizzical.

"For training me, for putting up with me, for giving Ginny extra lessons, for years spent as a spy, for stepping in front of the Cruciatus last winter, for—" His throat closed on him. He paused and took a deep breath, "For... trying to ease Professor Dumbledore's last days with us. For—"

"Enough," Snape said, cutting Harry off. "It has been an honor 'putting up' with you and the Weasley girl. Ginevra is quite the character and quite the potion maker. You are... something else entirely. A quick learner, now that you are applying yourself and we are not fighting one another. I spied as punishment for my foolish pride. As for taking the Curse, I absolutely cannot abide watching children being tortured." He held up a hand to forestall Harry's complaints at that word. "You were still a child last Christmas. You have matured quite a bit since then. As for Professor Dumbledore—" Snape paused, taking a slow draught from his own goblet. "I owed him my life and my sanity, as well as a job, home, freedom, and practice as a Potions Master."

"Are you still searching for the cure for Tiapin?" Harry asked after a few silent seconds.

"No," Snape replied heavily. "I had not for a while since a note of his had convinced me it was a waste of time and my talents."

"Then what were you working on?" Harry questioned, confused.

"A personal project of mine is nearing completion," Snape answered carefully. "Professor Dumbledore always supported this project and I wanted to complete it before he died. I wanted him to see it finished. I failed." Harry knew how hard it must have been for Snape to admit a failure to him.

"I never apologized for watching that memory back in fifth year," Harry said once the silence got to him. "I just was hoping it had something to do with the Department of Mysteries and then I was just... caught up in watching my father. I hope you know I wasn't planning on laughing."

"If I didn't know before two Mondays ago, I do now," Snape said, bringing the disastrous Occlumency lesson up yet again. "I do believe we are quite even in the snooping category, do you not agree?"

Harry nodded, his eyes focusing on the pictures. "So what now?"

"Indeed, what now?" Snape agreed.

"I'd like it—" Harry stopped, his voice betraying him with a crack. Only one picture included Snape among the woman and children. "Could we—do you think—is it possible—"

"Spit it out, Potter," Snape snapped, reminding Harry that no matter how decent Snape might be, he still had a short temper and even shorter patience.

"Cou'dwebefriends?" Harry asked in one quick spurt. Snape raised his eyebrow once more. "I'm not being disrespectful. I count Remus, Tonks, and Thia among my group of friends. I know how to split between respect for a professor and respect for a friend. Ask Thia, if you don't believe me."

"I would appreciate it if we were friends," Snape said, saying the last word slowly as if tasting and testing it. "As long as you treat me with the respect due to a professor in public, I have no qualms about being friends. My Slytherins still have not recovered from the knowledge that not only was I once married but I am also related to the Weasleys."

"Of course," Harry replied with a small smile. "Couldn't upset the delicate constitutions of the Slytherins, now could we?"

"No," Snape said firmly, though Harry swore he saw a corner of Snape's mouth curl up in a ghost of a smile. "Now, as for your Legilimency lesson. I want you to read this text, and commit it to memory." Harry stood, accepting the small leather-bound tome. Snape stood as well, going over to gather his outer robe. "You may go." Harry was startled by the quick dismissal; it had come from nowhere.

"Goodnight, sir," Harry said, turning to leave. A hand shot out to grab Harry's upper arm and Harry looked back at the Slytherin, his own eyebrow raised in question.

"Friends call one another by their given name," Snape said and then left through the door near the fireplace.

"Goodnight... Severus," Harry said softly, letting himself out the portrait door. The phoenix was rising, having come close to death. Harry thought her name in his head: Aithne. He was going to have to remember to ask Hermione about her later.

Salazar and Rowena. Now there was a surprise. Then again... Harry could see quite a few reasons those two would be the two to marry. He wondered if Helga and Godric had been a couple as well. No... he doubted that. Some how Harry couldn't see that one.

Wait... if Sephra was Ravenclaw's heir, wouldn't she also be Salazar's? And if she was, wouldn't that mean Tom Riddle hadn't been the last of Slytherin's line?

Maybe it doesn't count, Harry thought to himself. Sephra is Ravenclaw's heir so she can't be Slytherin's. Or maybe Dumbledore was using double meanings and hidden clues. Or maybe who our ancestors are really doesn't matter. Maybe I could have controlled the basilisk had I tried. So, we've got a Slytherin heir, a Ravenclaw heir, and a Gryffindor heir. Now, where's that Hufflepuff heir?

Ron sat in his favorite armchair, his favorite witch curled up in a ball next to him. Her head rested on his chest, her chin tucked in. She was napping, her breathing regular and soft. Ron held her protectively, gazing down into her hair. He couldn't think of a better way to spend his Friday evening in the common room.

Too bad it wouldn't last. He was going to have to wake her up soon so that she and Harry could do their patrol. He hated waking her, she was so beautiful when she was asleep, so peaceful and content. The worries that plagued them all didn't seem to touch her when she was asleep. Not to mention she wasn't overworking herself, pouring over books for the Order or her N.E.W.T.'s. Ron looked up when he heard the Fat Lady's portrait swing open.

A sight for sore eyes was making his way from the portrait hole to the fire where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Harry looked awful. A huge bruise marred his right cheek from where he'd been hit in Shacklebolt's lesson earlier that day. His eyes were heavy laden and ugly bags rimmed them. There had been a Revelry the night before and Harry hadn't slept at all. Snape had found out about Harry's over-use of his Pensieve and had commanded the younger man not to use it. He said it wasn't healthy. Ron didn't think this was either.

"Ron," Harry said, his voice pitched softly so that he wouldn't wake Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey has commanded me to bed, so would you cover my patrol?"

"Thought you said 'Mione and I couldn't patrol together?" he teased. Harry had made that command almost the minute after the first prefect meeting. He said, though he was happy that they were happy, he wasn't giving them any excuses to go sneaking off together, alone, while most of the castle was sleeping.

"If I had the energy to find and beg one of the other Gryffindor prefects, I would," Harry said. He flopped down on the sofa, his eyes closed, legs stretched out. "These Revelries are getting out of hand, and I have no idea where all these new Death Eaters are coming from. At least the article came out Monday. It's been helping with the press and rumors."

"I'll cover you," Ron said, his eyes taking in all the little things that were wrong with his best mate at the moment. "Can't you take a Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Both Severus and Pomfrey have forbidden me from taking it. I don't honestly want to. It doesn't work anymore anyway. Severus said something about brewing something stronger."

Ron shrugged his shoulders at that, ignoring the strange feeling that arose in him when Harry called Snape by his first name. It just wasn't right. "As long as you sleep," Ron finally said, carefully stirring Hermione awake. "'Morning, sunshine."

"Shove off," she said crossly. "Ready to go?" she asked, spotting Harry.

"Actually, I'm going with you," Ron said, maneuvering Hermione so that he could stand. Once standing, he helped her to her feet.

"Pomfrey says I can't," Harry said. "Now, I trust you, both of you. Don't break that trust." He glared at Ron.

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything you wouldn't do with my sis," Ron said, his voice light and teasing. Harry's eyes turned dark in anger and then glittered in mirth.

"Well, it's good you aren't privy to all your sister and I get up to," he teased back, seemingly years' worth of worry dropping from his face and a laugh that made Ron smile to hear it again. Ron made a face at that comment and waved over at his sister. Ginny was looking up; most likely Harry's laugh had made it to her ears. Or maybe it was the ring telling her he was happy. She and Harry exchanged a look that made Ron roll his eyes and exchanged a small laugh with Hermione. As much as the thought of his best mate snogging his little sister upset his stomach, he was glad they were happy. And, he had to admit, Harry was a good match for Ginny. Poor lad.

Ron laughed even harder when Colin's balled up parchment hit her. The sixth years had a major Transfiguration exam the next Monday and Bill had hinted that he was going to be harsh on the grading. It had all the sixth years jumpy. And they had all weekend to worry about it. It was just cruel.

"Glad I'm not a sixth year," he muttered.

"Why, you remember what Ginny said last spring," Hermione said, tugging on Ron's hand. It was time for them to go. "'Night, Harry. Try and get some sleep, won't you?"

"I'll try," Harry promised, his half smile betraying his doubt on that fact.

"Try and get Ginny to relax a bit," Ron told his best mate. "Don't want my star chaser over-worked because of a dirty trick her eldest brother played."

"I'll try," Harry promised yet again, the wide, genuine grin showing he thought he'd be able to keep this promise. Ron and Hermione left, leaving the quiet murmur of the common room behind for the silence of the deserted halls.

"What did Ginny say last spring?" Ron asked after a few minutes of silence.

"That she'll appreciate it when we're the ones stressing over finals and she's the one relaxing," Hermione stated simply.

"How do you remember things like that?" Ron asked, always impressed by Hermione's and Harry's memory. Both of them could quote others almost word for word. "No, never mind, I'll just pretend you have little invisible note cards that you can read and no one else can." Hermione laughed, sending shivers down Ron's spine.

"How can you win every single chess game?" she asked, her voice just as envious as his had been.

"Skill," Ron said, puffing out his chest. Hermione slapped his stomach, deflating him quickly. "That's not nice."

"Just making sure you don't float away," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Which patrol are we on tonight?" Ron asked, noticing that Hermione wasn't paying attention like she used to on a patrol. It had been a long while since they had patrolled together, thanks to Harry's rule.

"We're on the normal Gryffindor patrol," she said. "We don't start for another five minutes. Just enough time to get us down to the end of the third floor corridor."

"Ah, good memories that floor has," Ron said, pretending to reminisce happily. "Giant three-headed dogs and murderous plants and living chessmen and Snape's poison and Voldemort."

"First year really was a good year, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, playing along. "Lots of fun."

"I always thought third year was the best," Ron continued. "A mass-murderer out for my rat, while everyone thought he was out for Harry's life. I mean, if you disregard my broken leg and that curse Wormtail hit me with, really, did any of us get seriously hurt?"

"Ugh, I hated third year," Hermione said. "I never felt like I could relax."

"Well, that's what you get for taking more classes than us lowly idiots," Ron replied. "And don't forget, that stress of yours drove you to plant a facer on Malfoy."

"And then there were the dementors and the werewolf," Hermione added.

"But we were never in any danger," Ron assured her. "Between Harry and Sirius we were always safe."

"Do you think they'll clear him soon?" she asked, her voice dropping off sadly.

"I don't know," Ron answered honestly. "At the moment everyone is so bloody busy at the Ministry that I'm surprised Thia still comes to our dueling lessons."

"She's working herself raw."

"She looked awful on Monday at practice," Ron agreed. "Harry's not the only one suffering because Voldie-idiot started the Revelries again."

"Wonder why?" Hermione asked aloud. They reached the third floor corridor and turned around, eyes and ears open for misbehavior and out-of-bounds students.

"Why what?"

"Why Voldemort started again." They started climbing the stairs to the fourth floor when it started to move on them. "Dragon dung," Hermione spat as it moved to connect with the eighth floor. "What was the point of walking all the way down to the third floor, if this staircase was going to move us way up here?"

They turned around and walked down the stairs back to the third floor. They took the long way around to a staircase that minded its responsibilities and led to the fourth floor. They were silent, each thinking about Hermione's first question. They passed Nearly Headless Nick; well, Nick didn't see them and actually passed through them. He seemed distracted and didn't even apologize.

"What's up with him?" Ron asked, looking over his shoulder at their House ghost.

"The Grey Lady has him confused," Hermione answered absentmindedly. Ron looked at her, his mouth wide open.

"Close that before a doxy flies in," she scolded. "Didn't you know? Those two have been flirting quite outrageously all year." Ron shuddered, not completely jesting. Ghost romances, now that was a disturbing thought. "I think it's quite romantic. But the Grey Lady is testing him, and he's probably at his wits' end trying to pass it."

"You girls gossip too much," Ron finally said once his voice was working again. "I think that's all you do, once you disappear up those stairs of yours."

"Of course," Hermione said flippantly. "We wouldn't want to confuse our boys."

"Thanks," Ron said dryly. "If I didn't know Voldie-wart was just trying to build up morale and get his cause rolling, I'd swear he was trying to drive Harry to suicide."

"Ron, don't joke about that," Hermione said, her voice trembling dangerously. Ron reached over quickly to take her hand in his. He hadn't meant to upset her. Hermione might pretend to be well adjusted to Harry's summer 'adventure', but Ron knew better. Though she wasn't guilt-ridden like Ginny still was (even if that had improved), Hermione was just... worried for "her boys" as she called them both. The thought that Harry would willingly take himself away from them like that... she hated that thought.

"I'm not, you can see how unbalanced Harry is just as well as I can," Ron said firmly. "Don't worry about him, though. Harry knows better. As long as Moldy-mort is around, than so will Harry."

"Oh, that's a comforting thought," Hermione said sarcastically. "As long as our Dark Lord idiot is still breathing, then our dear Harry will be too. The second Harry wins the war we have to worry about him committing suicide again."

"Ah, but you're forgetting something," Ron said, holding a finger from his free hand to her mouth. "Ginny." He said it as if it explained everything, but Hermione just looked at him waiting for a better explanation. "He's head over heels in love with her. As long as Gin's around as well, so will Harry. He wants that family he talks about so casually. He wants to stay home and 'take care of the kids', remember?"

"He's going to be a great dad," Hermione said.

"As long as it's many years and a wedding away," Ron muttered. Hermione laughed airily.

"You boys need to lay off this talk," Hermione play-scolded. "Ginny and I might get annoyed with being treated as chattel and walk away from both of you."

"As if you—what's that?" Ron moved over to an un-used classroom on their left. "Now, if that's Nick and the Grey Lady, then I'm Lockhart's greatest fan."

"Hope it isn't Gryffindors," Hermione muttered. "I don't want to take even more points from our house." Ron smiled sourly and rapped the door hard. The startled sounds from inside made Ron smile more brightly. He pounded once more. One of the room's occupants squeaked.

"Get decent and get out here!" Ron ordered through the door. He smiled down at Hermione and rolled his eyes. "If I would have known how much easier it is to keep track of who's with whom as a prefect I would have nominated Lavender and Parvati for the job."

Hermione laughed silently, but quickly schooled her face into a stern expression as the door opened. Ron turned to face a blushing Ravenclaw and Dennis Creevey. Once the shortest kid at Hogwarts, Dennis's height actually rivaled Hermione's and he wasn't finished growing. "Even more points from Gryffindor?" he asked, sighing. Dennis's cheeks blushed even redder.

"Lauralyn Wood, isn't it?" Hermione asked and the girl nodded.

"This is Oliver's kid sister?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Ron," Hermione said in warning. "Not. Now."

"What?" he asked, confused at why Hermione was warning him. "I was just asking." Dennis chuckled, but quieted at the glares from both seventh years. "That'll be ten points each, and a detention."

"Detention?" Dennis asked, outraged. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, we're not," Hermione said. "This is the second time I've caught you this year, let alone the others. And the house can't afford losing any more points." Lauralyn gave Dennis a glare. "Now, do we need to escort you to your common rooms or can we trust you?"

"Trust," Dennis mumbled, glaring at Ron. "Later." He stalked off, Lauralyn at his side.

"Do we really?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, walking the other way continuing on their round. "Now, what were you saying before we were interrupted."

"Nothing," Ron said. "Moment is ruined. Mostly, Harry and I are just joking around now anyway, so I don't see any harm in it. You ladies both know that you have our absolute and complete adoration and love."

"Oh, don't worry, we know," Hermione said, patting his cheek fondly. He caught it up and kissed it softly. "None of that," she said, pulling her hand out of his quickly, though her smile was bright. "We're on patrol!"

"Oh, right," Ron said, shoulders drooping in jest. She hit his shoulder softly and grabbed his hand again. He loved the feel of her little palm in his. His thoughts strayed back to the Gryffindor Tower and his best mate. "I am worried about Harry though."

"How's he been sleeping since Snape told him not to use his Pensieve?" Hermione asked softly.

"Not at all," Ron replied. "He closes his eyes and has nightmares 'til they open again. It's not fair that Voldie-pants has this much control over Harry."

"No," Hermione agreed. "Harry's too nice to see all these deaths over and over."

"Yeah," Ron replied. "His subconscious won't let him forget and Snape won't let him artificially forget it either."

"It wasn't healthy at all," Hermione stated, defending the Potions Master. "He wasn't letting himself heal at all. He needs to come to terms with it and how can he if he's 'forgetting' it like that? No, he's better off viewing it and talking about it."

"At least he was getting some sleep," Ron muttered. "It's gotten so bad that Harry's convinced Dean, Seamus, and Neville to put silencing spells on their curtains every other night."

"Really?" Hermione asked, gripping Ron's hand a bit more tightly. "There's probably nothing we can do about the Revelries, but there has to be something we can do about the other nightmares."

"Harry said Snape might be willing to give him something stronger," Ron said softly. They climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. "I'm sure they'll have to talk it over."

"Something stronger... not sure if that's necessarily better," Hermione said softly. "But as long as he gets sleep, it has to be for the best."

"Has to," Ron said, trying to convince himself as much as Hermione. "He doesn't deserve this."

"Who would?" Hermione asked rhetorically. Ron shrugged, it still wasn't fair. "At least Rita's been silent since the article came out Monday."

"Yeah, and Harry's had all those supportive owls from fans to cheer him up," Ron said with a grin on his face. "You see what Ginny did to the picture of that witch?"

"Which one?" Hermione asked, laughing now. "The one posed on her broom or the one on her bed?"

"There were two?" Ron asked, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, Ginny opened the other one. Harry never saw it."

"Ah, well, that's my little sis for you," Ron said, laughing at the thought of that redhead's temper. "Harry was actually glad she destroyed the one he saw, he said that witch was u-u-ugly."

"The other one wasn't," Hermione said after a thought. "What was that?"

"Sounded like footsteps," Ron muttered, peering down a side passage. "We're near the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Hermione said with a nod. "Whoever you are hiding, come out." No one came out from the seemingly deserted hallway.

"You heard the Head Girl, come out," Ron said strongly, his wand tip lit so that he could see better.

"You have 'til the count of three and then we're coming after you," Hermione said sternly. "One."

"Don't make her reach three," Ron warned, and then winked at Hermione.

"Two." Hermione glared at Ron.

"She's cranky when she reaches three."

"Three." Hermione raised her own wand. "Accio student." Someone rammed into the closed door of the room to their left. Ron walked down there and opened the door. A girl came zooming out to the waiting Hermione.

"Padma, what are you doing out of bounds?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"I fell asleep in the Library and Madam Pince didn't see me so by the time I woke up it was long past curfew," she said quickly. Ron looked at his girlfriend and saw that her brow was furrowed just the same as his was. That didn't seem likely; Madam Pince never missed a student.

"Why didn't you come out then?" Ron asked. Padma swallowed.

"Didn't want to get caught and I was hoping you'd just give up," she answered. "Look, either let me go or punish me, but I want to go to bed."

"Five points from Ravenclaw," Hermione said. "Get to your common room and don't get caught next time." They walked with Padma into the huge cathedral-like space on this side of the castle. Ron loved this dome, though he hardly ever came this way.

"Okay, this is it, later," Padma said nervously. Hermione nodded and led Ron out the other entrance. He looked back to see a ladder falling, but he couldn't see from where—the corridor ceiling blocked the view.

"Dang, I thought I was going to figure out how to get in there," Ron said with a sigh. "It's not fair that you and Harry aren't telling Ginny or me where it is."

"Look at the Map," Hermione said, her eyes rolling at him. They climbed the stairs to the sixth floor.

"That sounds like work," Ron teased.

"Well, it isn't," Hermione teased back. "Don't be so lazy."

"But 'Lazy' is my middle name!"

"I thought it was Bilius."

Ron pulled a face at the name, but laughed when he caught Hermione's eyes. It was nice spending time alone with her. They didn't get much free time; seventh year was turning out to be three times as busy and stressful as fifth year. They hadn't had a proper date for a while, since the Christmas holidays, and their next one wasn't until Valentine's Day.

"How 'bout doing what Harry doesn't want us to do?" he teased, knowing that Hermione was going to turn him down.

"I'd love to, sweetheart," she said, wickedly sweetly. "But, there's this thing called a patrol and we're responsible for finishing it."

"After?" he said, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"If you behave," she teased back, tugging on his hand to hurry him along. "But I know Ginny has my patrols timed and if we take longer than normal, she'll know we were... otherwise occupied."

"And the problem with that?" Ron asked.

"She'll give me a hard time about it," Hermione replied. "Go on how the stern, rule-abiding Head Girl has a soft side."

"You have lot's of soft sides," Ron said, throwing an arm around her waist. "I love them all." Hermione pulled out of his embrace and looked away. "What?"

"Don't tease," she said, her voice trying to sound scolding but only accomplishing hurt.

"I'm not," Ron said, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I love everything that is Hermione." She was silent and pulled ahead of him. He thought he heard a sniff and his suspicions were confirmed when a hand went to rub at her eyes. "'Mione, what's the matter?" he asked, pulling at the other hand. She refused to look up at him. "I'm sorry," he said desperately, trying to figure out what had upset her.

"Leave me alone," she said, her tears evident in her voice.

Dammit! Why do I always have to put my foot in my mouth when it comes to Hermione?

"Only if you tell me why you're upset," Ron countered. "I don't want to make the same mistake twice, you see." Hermione was infuriatingly silent, except for the sniffing sounds.

They continued their patrol in strained silence, meeting no one else. Once they reached the end of the eighth floor corridor, Ron decided enough was enough. He pulled Hermione into a nook in the wall and made her turn to face him.

"Enough," he said, keeping the irritation out of his voice. Nothing was worse on the nerves than listening to the woman of your dreams sniffing about something you said and not be able to leave her side or fix it. Instead, he put all the love he could into the words. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"Did you have to... to..." she sniffed really loudly, "to make fun of my... curves?"

"But... I like your curves," Ron said blankly, and Hermione gave him a dirty look. He heard her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'emotional range' and 'teaspoon' under her breath. "Okay, first, you knew I was dimwitted about how girls think when you entered this relationship," he started, the comment from long ago cutting at him. "Second, I happen to know that my 'emotional range' quite engulfs a teaspoon, because I feel quite a lot more than that for you, let alone everyone else. Third, if you're talking about what Pansy said today during potions, you can just forget it. You aren't fat. She is. You aren't. Do you hear me?"

Hermione sniffed quite loudly. A few tears started to fall down her cheeks and Ron realized too late that he had let his anger show. He reached up a hand and carefully brushed the tears from her face and then pulled her close.

"I'm not angry with you, 'Mione," he said softly into her hair. "Pansy's the fat cow, you've just got this wonderful curvy body that's just... amazing."

"I am fat," she said into his shoulder. "A fat, good for nothing, book-worm."

"Whoever told you that is an idiot," Ron said firmly. He rubbed her back in small, slow circles, letting her cry. He knew it was more than just this insecurity of hers; it was everything added up and this was the straw that broke Hermione's back. "I love that you read everything; keeps me from having to do it myself." Hermione hiccupped cutely.

Ugh, you are a love sick idiot if you think a hiccup is cute, a voice that sounded a lot like Fred's told him. But it was cute!

"And, you're anything but a good-for-nothing," he assured her. "At the very least you're the greatest tutor out there! I mean, you got both Harry and me through six and a half years of Hogwarts! Not to mention all the things you do for the Order and the prefects and the D.A. and everything else you do."

She looked up at him, her eyes blood-shot and swollen. He rubbed the last of the tears from her face, and let the finger rest on her lips. "And you aren't fat. Curvy is not fat. You can run the boundary of the grounds, you can duel better than any fat person could," by 'fat person' she knew he meant Pansy, "and you're the greatest dancer I know. That fat cow can't not step on everyone's feet." Hermione laughed, though it was watery.

"You have an emotional range larger than a teaspoon?" she teased, deciding to ignore his other comments. He reached into his robe's inner pockets looking for the small box he had kept there since August. Not finding what he was looking for, he frowned, let go of her, and started to pat down all his other pockets.

"We're done with the patrol, right?" he asked distracted, and Hermione nodded, her face confused. "Okay... um... I thought it... was... Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Hermione asked, the tone bringing Ron back to her. He looked her up and down. Shrugging he pulled her closer and kissed her.

"Never mind that," he said, his voice cracking huskily. He got to his knee, holding her left hand in both of his. "Marry me, please?" Hermione's jaw dropped. She was silent, and the longer she remained so, the more Ron's nerves started to make him nauseated.

"No-no-no," she said softly shaking her head. Ron felt his heart jump off the edge of a very high cliff. "This... this isn't happening." And it was plummeting towards the ground at the speed of light waiting for the stop that would shatter it beyond repair.

"Wh-what?" he asked, confused, worried, hurt, and disgusted with himself. He shouldn't have asked her without the ring! Hermione didn't say another word. She just stared down at him. "'Mione? What's the matter?"

"I—" she blinked and she saw his heart-broken face. "Oh, Ron, how could you?"

"I—Huh?"

"You go and ask me after a conversation like that," she said, her mouth curving up into a smile. Gawds, I do love her curves! "And, without a ring?"

"I thought I had it," he said weakly, glad he was down on his knees. He didn't think they'd be able to keep him up. He hugged her knees, resting his head on her stomach, his body going limp. "That a yes then?"

"Of course I will, but... how could you? This isn't a story I'll even want to tell Ginny!"

Ron felt his heart return, but it landed in his throat instead. With the return of his heart, his body was back under his control and he jumped up. "Just a second." He sped down the flight of stairs to the seventh floor. He came to a skidding halt and looked up at the Fat Lady. "Now you're a fat one!" he said jubilantly.

"Excuse me!" she said, affronted.

"Play nice," he said, and before the Fat Lady could actually return his comment, she swung open. 'Play nice' was the password, reminding every Gryffindor that they were strapped for points.

The common room was deserted, except for a couple on the couch before the dying fire. Ginny's ginger head popped up at the thunder of his steps. She jumped up, away from Harry, who was wide-eyed. She stepped between Harry and Ron, expecting Ron to throw a tantrum. No matter what, she definitely wasn't expecting the bear hug she got.

Harry exchanged a look with Ginny once Ron had bounded up the stairs. Both broke into laughter, though it was very confused laughter. The portrait opened once more and Hermione climbed into the common room. She had a very pleased expression on her face, though her eyes were red as if she'd been crying.

"He told you, then?" she said, looking at their laughing faces.

"Didn't say a word," Ginny said. "Walked in on us snogging, hugged me when I stepped in his way, and ran up the stairs. What happened to you? Why've you been crying?" Hermione just laughed and waved off Ginny's concerned hug.

"Nothing, well... something, but don't worry about the tears," she said, sitting in the armchair she had occupied with Ron earlier that evening. Ron came bounding down the stairs, his eyes looking agitated.

"Harry, where's the ring?" he asked from the bottom of the stairs.

"Wait, you asked her on a prefect patrol?" Ginny asked, laughing once more.

"No idea, mate," Harry called to Ron. "Isn't it in your pocket where you always keep it?"

"No, it's not, and it's not in my side table drawer or my trunk or under my bed or anywhere," he said, his voice panicked.

Harry jumped up and shook Ron. "Snap out of it, man, we'll find it. Maybe Dean snitched it to be funny."

"Well, it's not funny," Ron grumbled, following Harry back up the stairs. "If anyone took it I'm going to—" he made a violent slashing movement in the air.

"She must have said yes then," Harry said, trying to keep his silent laughter out of his voice.

"She did, eventually," Ron muttered. "She's not exactly thrilled 'bout the story it'll make, but... she said yes and that's all that matters."

"That and finding the ring," Harry said, as Ron tore into the room. The sleepy heads of their dorm mates appeared quickly.

"What's going on?" Neville asked sleepily as he looked at Ron. The red-head was tearing his bedclothes apart searching for the missing box.

"Any of you seen his engagement ring?" Harry asked when it became clear that Ron wasn't answering.

"Yeah, it's by the sink," Dean said. "Why?"

"He got around to—" Ron zipped into the bathroom and back out and down the stairs, clipping Harry's shoulder as he passed. "He got around to asking Hermione and didn't have it," Harry finished, rubbing the injury and hoping it wasn't bruised too badly.

"The one day he forgot to put it in his robes," Seamus said, amused. Harry looked at him and knew without any words that everything was all right between them. He just hoped that Seamus had changed his mind about Death Eaters' kids.

"I'd better get back down there to celebrate," Harry said, exchanging smiles with the others. "I'm glad he's so distracted, Ginny and I were quite busy when he walked in."

"I'm sure he hardly noticed," Neville laughed. "He looked very distracted."

"Definitely," Dean said, crawling out of bed. "Think I'll just get up, who cares about being rested for the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game tomorrow. This is more important."

"Good idea," Seamus said. "Should get Lavender and the other girls up to join in."

"I'll tell Ginny to go get them," Harry said, heading down as the three other guys got ready for the impromptu party. "Gin, want to get the other girls up to celebrate?" he asked once he joined her side. He rolled his eyes at the newly betrothed couple.

"Yeah, and you should ask Dobby for refreshments," Ginny added, heading up the stairs to the girls' dorm. Harry did just that and then spent several hours celebrating with his housemates in honor of his best friends. Others were awoken and joined in, Dennis Creevey shooting them dark looks. Bill Weasley stuck his bed-head into the common room at about 3 AM.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his sleepy voice sounding annoyed.

"Engagement party," Ginny purred from her spot on Harry's lap. "You should join. It's a family affair after all."

"You and Harry?" Bill asked, stunned. "I thought you were waiting 'til after you graduated, Ginny."

"No, you dolt," Harry teased, aware that he'd just called his Head of House a dolt. For some reason, at an impromptu engagement party at 3 AM, Bill was just an older brother, not Head of House. "Ron and Hermione. I'm quite happy just being Ginny's promised fiancé."

"Ron and... Hermione," Bill asked, even more stunned than before. He shook his head to clear the rest of the sleep and frowned. "Oh, Mum's going to be revolting."

"Why is it that the two times something really good happens to me while my older brothers are around, they say that?" Ron asked, his arms firmly wrapped around Hermione's shoulders.

"I don't know about the other time, but she's going to be awful," Bill said, taking a seat on the couch and the butterbeer Ginny offered him. The stronger stuff had been whisked away, not that Harry had ever seen it. "Her little 'Ronnie-kins' is getting married." There were a few laughs at the old nickname. "Oh, she'll be worse than when she found out about me and Melissa."

"Melissa and me," Ginny corrected impishly. "She wasn't that bad."

"Mmm, not around you two, but you know Mum," Bill said with a shudder. "You both are so young," he said in a good impression of Mrs. Weasley. "You sure you aren't a bit too young to think about settling down? Just because there's a war doesn't mean you have to rush things! And that's what she told me and Melissa," Bill finished, daring Ginny to correct him again.

"Melissa and me," Harry said quickly. Ginny laughed as Bill punched him in his bruised shoulder good-naturedly. "Weren't your parents younger than you two are?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, but do you think that matters to her?" Bill said. "So, how'd it happen?"

"Hermione won't tell," Lavender whined, her cheeks bright red. Bill had taken the seat next to her and everyone knew Lavender was the spokeswoman for the "official" unofficial fan club for the young Transfiguration professor. Parvati was Vice-president and, surprisingly, Susan Bones was the president. Seamus glared at Bill but didn't say anything. After all, Bill was off limits, both as a professor and a soon-to-be married man. Lavender would just blush and stutter around him, at the most. Ginny noticed the blush and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, he couldn't have been that pathetic," Bill said, teasing his youngest brother and his new fiancé. Ron muttered something obscene under his breath and his ears turned a bright red. "Oh dear Lord, what did he do? He didn't trip on his way down to one knee, did he?"

"No!" Ron said gruffly.

"He didn't have the ring," Dean called over from the table with food.

"What are you talking about, he bought it last summer," Bill asked. Hermione gasped. "Suppose I shouldn't have said that. Oh, well, so it goes."

"I didn't put it in my pocket this morning," Ron admitted.

"He carried it every where," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "Just in case. And the one day he forgot it—"

They started to heckle Ron relentlessly. Over an hour passed before Professor McGonagall entered the common room. She had them packing up and back to bed in no time, though she did stop and congratulate Ron and Hermione. And she didn't yell... well... only once... when Neville accidentally showered her in butterbeer from the bottle Dean had just handed him. Dean had three extra detentions to worry about now.

They were climbing back into their beds, almost an hour later, when Harry turned to face Ron.

"Congrats, mate," he said seriously. "I knew she'd say yes. You two are perfect for each other."

Ron let out a long slow breath. "I was worried for a bit. She really isn't thrilled with how it went down. Oh well, too late now. See you tomorrow, Quidditch match."

"Yeah, should be fun," Harry said, closing his bed curtains. "'Night all!" he called out and got a few replies back, Neville's being a snore.