The Final Reckoning

Chapter Twenty-Two: Surprises

It was only when they were all out of Myrtle's bathroom altogether that Ginny stopped trembling. They were saved from having to explain to Myrtle the contents of the box when Harry noticed, upon lowering it onto the tile floor of the loo, that it had no discernible lock or lid anywhere on it. Myrtle accepted this explanation with surprising good grace but looked supremely disappointed that nobody had died.

Upon leaving Myrtle's loo the four of them determined that the only place to take the box would be Ron's room; it was the best place to keep the box safe and allow for any level of privacy once they got it open.

If we get it open, Harry thought grimly.

The trip to Ron's room was largely uneventful but took time; Hermione insisted on conducting patrols as she and Ron were expected to do, and Harry and Ginny could do nothing but go along, hidden with the box beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Ginny was quiet and had that determined look on her face again, but Harry caught something else in her expression: shame. She was ashamed of having broken down. He resisted the urge to comfort her, knowing she would only resent the gesture.

At last they reached Ron's room; there was nobody in the corridor, so Harry pulled the cloak off himself, Ginny and the box. He heard Ron mutter a password, and the heavy oak door to his room glowed briefly before the door itself clicked open softly.

They hurried inside and Ron shut the door softly behind them, locking it. Harry chuckled inwardly at the sight of the mess in the room; clothes and robes and books were strewn haphazardly all over the place.

'Finally,' he said. 'Ginny, are you--'

'I'm fine,' said Ginny, her voice a little tight.

'Honestly, Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. 'This room was spotless two days ago.'

'I've been busy,' said Ron defensively. 'And anyway, I'm shite with Cleaning Charms, you know that.'

'Don't swear,' said Hermione.

'I think he wants you to clean it up, Hermione,' said Ginny, smirking.

'Fat chance,' said Hermione. 'I'm his girlfriend, not his chambermaid.'

'See, Harry,' said Ron, grinning, 'that's the trouble with these modern, independent women. They never want to help a bloke out.'

'I'm happy to help Harry open this box,' Hermione said primly.

'Good thing,' said Harry, pulling the little gold key from his robe pocket, 'because I don't see where or how I'm supposed to use this key.'

'Well, I'd guess the lock is magically concealed,' said Hermione, and she pulled out her wand and tapped the box with it. 'Reveal!'

Nothing happened. Ron and Ginny followed suit, and again, there was no result.

'Perhaps it's charmed only to accept a spell from the owner,' Hermione suggested.

Harry tapped the box with his own wand and said the incantation, but nothing happened.

'Password, do you reckon?' said Ron.

'It looks that way,' said Hermione.

'Great,' said Harry. 'A password? How on earth am I supposed to know what sort of password my parents would use? It could be anything.'

'Don't be silly, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Your parents would have chosen something they could remember easily.'

'Like a birthday?' Ginny suggested.

'No, something less obvious,' said Hermione. 'Like...what about Prongs? Your father's nickname?'

Harry shrugged. 'That's as good as any, I guess,' he said, and he tapped the box with his wand again and said, very clearly, 'Prongs.'

Nothing.

He looked up at the others and let out a breath. What other things would his father have used?

'Snivellus,' said Harry, tapping the box.

Nothing.

'Padfoot. Moony. Marauders. Snitch. Quaffle. Bludger. Dammit! Why didn't my parents tell Dumbledore the stupid password?'

'Harry, wait...' said Ginny. 'Didn't you say that your mum was the one who asked Dumbledore to be the secret keeper? What if the password has something to do with her?'

'Right,' said Harry, seizing on this idea, but at once his shoulders sagged. 'Except I know less about my mum than my dad. I mean, I know she was Head Girl and she had red hair and green eyes and was pretty and a nice person, and that's about it.'

'Harry,' said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. 'What about her maiden name?'

'Evans?' Harry said, and suddenly, the black box glowed green for a moment. Nobody said a word for a moment, and then Harry tapped the box again with his wand and said 'Evans.'

The box glowed green again, only this time, the green light moved. The outline of a lid became apparent, and a brilliant green square appeared at the lip of the lid. The green glow then flashed and disappeared, and left behind was a small gold locking mechanism.

'Thanks, Hermione,' said Harry, grinning.

'Brilliant as usual,' said Ron, and he was grinning, too. Hermione blushed.

'Not really,' she said humbly. 'It just makes sense. Harry's mum was a Muggle-born and whenever Muggles set up bank accounts they usually have to give their mother's maiden name as a password. And she'd want something Harry would know, of course, so he could get into the box; and with Dumbledore acting as Secret Keeper to the box's very existence...'

'Get it open, Harry,' said Ron eagerly. Harry looked up at three expectant faces and took a deep breath.

'Here goes,' he said, and he pushed open the lid of the box.

A loud, squawking sound of rusted metal sliding against metal filled the room, making them all wince. In the next instant, a cloud of dust burst from the box right in Harry's face. He coughed and sneezed, and Ginny quickly aimed her wand at the offending cloud and Harry's face and said 'Scourgify.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, wiping his eyes, and he turned back to the box, looking inside with a pounding heart. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all crowded round him, peering down into the box.

'Looks like...documents,' said Ron.

'Lots of them,' said Hermione.

'Yeah,' said Harry, staring at the stacks and stacks of parchment inside the box, which, he was stunned to discover, was magically enlarged on the inside to be four times the size of its outward appearance.

He reached inside gingerly and pulled out a small stack of parchment that was tied together with a faded old ribbon.

'There's...so much stuff,' said Harry, bewildered. 'When am I going to find time to go through it all?'

'We'll help you,' said Hermione at once. 'Right now. Let's empty it and we'll sort everything out.'

She pointed her wand at a random spot in the room and said 'Organize!' and suddenly books were stacking themselves on Ron's desk, and his clothes were sorting themselves into the hamper or folding themselves and hanging themselves back up in his closet.

'Thanks, love,' said Ron, grinning.

'Don't get any ideas,' said Hermione sharply. 'I only did it because we need room to spread out Harry's things.'

'Whatever you say,' said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and took the stack of parchment from Harry, and he began to unload everything. In the end, there were more than two dozen thick stacks of documents and about ten thick books.

'Books over here,' said Hermione firmly, and she levitated them over to Ron's already crowded desk. 'We'll look through those later.'

'What about all the rest?' Ron asked, starting to untie one of the stacks of parchment.

Hermione and Harry looked at the paper as Ginny fumbled with the knot of another ribbon.

'That has Ministry letterhead on it,' she said. 'It looks official. Let's do a pile here for Ministry things.'

'This one has Hogwarts letterhead,' Ginny announced. 'I'll put it here.'

'"From the desk of Albus Dumbledore",' Harry read, at the top of a piece of parchment he'd picked up from the box. 'Is this Hogwarts or a separate pile?'

'Hmm,' said Hermione, 'let's make that separate for now. If there's not more than a few from Dumbledore himself we can incorporate it into the Hogwarts' pile.'

'Weird,' said Ron. 'This one's blank.'

Hermione tapped the parchment he was studying with her wand, and suddenly, a message appeared.

'"Meeting tonight, half past seven",' Ron read. '"Usual place, bring R.L".'

'Order business, perhaps?' said Hermione.

'It's signed by Dumbledore,' said Harry.

'Let's put it over here,' said Hermione, sighing. 'It doesn't even look all that important but who knows.' She indicated another spot on Ron's bed.

Ginny added a few more things to the Dumbledore pile, and Harry announced a few letters from Lupin and Sirius; much as he wanted to read them he figured he could do it later.

'Put those in a personal correspondence pile, right there,' Hermione said, pointing to yet another empty spot on Ron's bed.

And on it went for another twenty minutes, sifting through individual pieces of parchment.

'Oh, my,' said Hermione suddenly, looking down at the pile of letters she was sorting through.

'What?' Harry and Ron asked, as Ginny looked up.

'These...I think these are letters your parents sent to one another,' said Hermione. 'I...they look very...private.'

Harry swallowed.

'You mean...like, romantic?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Hermione, and she quickly placed them in a corner on Ron's desk. 'I'll just...leave those there for you, Harry.'

Harry nodded, staring at the pile of letters Hermione had just put down. He hadn't known his parents had written one another love letters. Harry felt a strange ache in his throat, and he realized, perhaps for the first time in his conscious mind, that his parents were only a few years older than he was now when Voldemort had murdered them.

Harry didn't have time to dwell on the romantic correspondence of his parents before Ron spoke.

'What's this?' he asked, and he held up another piece of parchment.

It was covered with letters and figures, but none of the letters seemed to spell anything.

'That's not English,' said Ginny. 'Hermione...is that...is that a foreign language?'

Hermione studied the parchment intently. 'Not one that I'm aware of,' she said. 'It's a Latin alphabet but...no, it's not ancient Latin...' She pulled the parchment from Ron's hand.

'Wait,' she said, her eyes widening. 'I think...I think this one might be a coded message.'

'A code?' said Harry, looking up sharply.

'It's the only thing that makes sense,' said Hermione. 'Are there any more like that in that stack, Ron?'

Ron quickly flipped through the large pile of parchment he had. 'They're all like that. Some of them have lots of numbers on them, though.'

'Harry!' said Hermione excitedly. 'Maybe...maybe this has something to do with your parents' work, for the Ministry, or the Order!'

Harry snatched the parchment from Ron and looked at it. It was completely incomprehensible.

'Maybe,' he said, feeling a little thrill in his heart. 'But...how am I supposed to decipher this?'

'There has to be a solution,' said Hermione, and she took out her wand and tapped the parchment in her hand and muttered an incantation. The parchment glowed pink, but nothing happened.

She tried several more spells, but still came up empty.

'Maybe this stuff has a password, too,' said Ron. 'Maybe only Harry can see it.'

Harry nodded and tapped the stack of parchment in his hand with his wand. He used every word associated with his parents that he could think of, including his mother's maiden name, but nothing on the many pages of parchment changed, nothing became real words.

'Shit,' Harry groaned.

'Don't swear,' said Hermione. 'Look, give those to me and I'll look into it. My research on blood things is drying up at the moment; maybe there's something useful in here, if I can just crack it.'

'Thanks, Hermione,' said Harry, relieved. He'd never been good at logic, magical or otherwise. Knowing Hermione she'd have every piece of parchment in that considerable stack deciphered inside of a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Harry was in his dormitory, with the curtains of his four-poster drawn shut. His parents' letters were stacked up on the duvet; he'd put them in order by the dates. Ginny had bid him goodnight looking weary and sad, and he'd given her a bit of his leftover Dreamless Sleep Draught; he had no idea if it would still be good, but he hoped so. He didn't want to imagine the sort of nightmares Ginny might have if she didn't take it. The lingering guilt he had felt for agreeing to take her back down into the Chamber had since receded, replaced by a tired, familiar sadness at what had happened to her.

Now he was alone with a stack of letters that were beckoning to be read.

Harry was exhausted; he knew he should go to sleep, but the urge to read the letters was just too strong to ignore. Here, at last, was something personal, something that came directly from his mother and father. Finally he could learn about their lives, in their own words. Even if there was a small part of Harry that felt strange, as though he were invading his parents' privacy, he couldn't stop his eyes from drinking in the words on the first letter.

12 November 1978

Dearest Lily,

Is it pathetic that I'm writing you for the second time in one day? Probably. Don't tell Sirius, though.

Auror training is still hell, of course--

Harry's eyes widened and he felt his heart race. His father had been in training as an Auror.

--and it's worse now that they've accelerated everything. I'm having to do twice as much each day and sometimes I wonder if I'm not mad for having signed on for this. If we're not mad for getting married in three months. I know what you'll think the minute you read this. 'We can't stop living our lives, James.' 'If we live in fear we're giving him what he wants.'

You're right, of course. You're always right. I've been practicing saying this, by the way, so I should be in good shape by the time we're married and you'll never have a reason to stay hacked off at me. But...don't tell Sirius that, either. He already takes the mickey out of me for being so completely besotted over you.

Bloody hell, Lil, I miss you. I'm not fifteen miles away from you and I can't even see you for another week. I know I must be annoying the hell out of Dumbledore, owling him every day to make sure you're safe. Please tell me you're doing all you can to stay safe. I know you tell me in every letter and I know I probably drive you mad with my worrying, but do it anyway, because knowing you're safe and well is what keeps me going during the long days here. Like a complete prat I'm counting the bloody seconds until I can kiss you again. How's that for romantic?

I love you.

James

Harry's eyes lingered on the final paragraph of the letter, and he read it a second time, and a third.

I never knew he was training to be an Auror. And...Dad loved Mum, they were happy in spite of everything...Voldemort was always there... and they were happy anyway...they were so young...

Harry felt something deep inside him well up and press on his throat, and suddenly he was crying, harder than he ever had, harder than when he'd lost Sirius, when Susan had dumped him. He cried in silence for the parents he'd never known, for two lives, two full, happy lives cut cruelly short, for the unfairness of it all, for the family he could only visit in his dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thin stream of sunlight penetrated the slit in the curtains of Harry's bed, hitting him right in the face.

Harry blinked and groaned, rolling over onto his back. It was only then that he realized he'd fallen asleep in his clothes; his glasses had come off sometime in the night and were on his pillow, the frames looking forlornly bent. One lens had popped out.

'Damn,' he muttered, and he picked up his wand from beneath his pillow and cast a few repairing charms on them before slipping them on. He took a deep breath and pulled back his curtains.

The dormitory was empty; Dean's and Seamus's beds were messy and unmade but Neville's was neatly done up and his desk perfectly tidy and organized. Harry looked at his watch, his eyes taking in the time. Eighteen minutes past eleven...

'Bugger!' he shouted.

I have a date with Daphne in an hour and I'm not even close to being ready!

He leapt off his bed and yanked off his clothes, leaving them piled on the floor; then he grabbed his bathrobe, his towel and his toiletries and raced into the bathroom. He took the hottest, fastest shower in his life, shaved carelessly and nicked his chin--it bled profusely and he had to do a Clotting Charm on it to stop the flow of blood, as well as a Healing Charm--and threw on the first pair of jeans and the first clean t-shirt and jumper he could find. He didn't even bother All told, he was ready in less than ten minutes, but he still had to go down to the kitchens and put together a picnic lunch.

He didn't bother with the Invisibility Cloak; if he got caught going down to the kitchens by Filch he didn't care, he'd hex the old bastard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter, sir!' Dobby squealed, as he finished filling a massive wooden picnic basket with a lunch that could have easily fed a dozen people. 'Dobby is wondering when Harry would come down to see him.'

'Sorry,' said Harry apologetically. 'I've been really busy.'

'Oh, it's okay, sir!' said Dobby at once. 'Dobby understands. Dobby is pleased that Harry has a courtship today. She is nice, yes?'

'She's nice,' said Harry, blushing.

'Dobby wonders what her name is,' said Dobby, smiling.

'Daphne,' said Harry, and he immediately sought to change the subject. He wasn't about to get into the subject of his love life with Dobby, so he looked round the kitchen--the other house elves were busy making preparations for lunch in the Great Hall--and he noticed someone was missing.

'Where's Winky?' Harry asked, seizing on the change of subject.

'Oh, she is gone, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby. 'She was most unhappy here.'

'Gone?' said Harry. 'What do you mean?'

'She has found employment with another wizarding family,' said Dobby, and he smiled. 'She is working for the Wheezys now!'

'What?' said Harry, taken aback. 'Really? When? Ron never told me--'

'Oh, it only happens this morning, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby. 'Dumbledore comes here and asks for Winky and he sees she is not happy, so he says he knows of a nice family for her, and he says the Wheezys, and Winky says she will, as long as they promise not to pay her. Dumbledore says they won't so Winky goes!'

'Wow,' said Harry, smiling to himself. Well, Winky could certainly stay busy, whether she went to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place.

'Thanks for the food, Dobby,' said Harry, picking up the picnic basket, which was very heavy.

'You is most welcome, Harry Potter, sir!' said Dobby, bowing. 'Dobby also sends his regards to Miss Daffy.'

'Miss Daffy?' said Harry, and then something clicked. 'Oh, right. Yeah, I'll tell her you said hello.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I really like this spot,' Daphne said, smiling, as she and Harry sat down on the blanket beneath the beech tree. She looked very pretty today, with her dark blonde hair loose; she wore jeans and a soft, shapely peach jumper that dipped a bit low in the front, affording Harry a nice view.

'My dad used to sit here a lot,' Harry said.

'How do you know?' Daphne asked, and then she blushed and looked embarrassed. 'I'm sorry, that...I mean...'

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'Sirius told me. My godfather.'

'Sirius Black?' said Daphne. 'He was your godfather?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, as he opened the picnic basket. He wasn't keen to talk about Sirius now but Daphne seemed interested.

'It's so unfair, what happened to him,' she said. 'Spending all that time in Azkaban and being a fugitive. And...' Her voice trailed off. 'I don't suppose you want to talk about him.'

'Not really,' said Harry, setting out a platter of roast chicken.

'I'm sorry,' she said, and she looked up at him sheepishly, and it was so charming an expression on her that Harry couldn't help but relax a bit.

'Stop apologizing,' he said, sitting down. 'Look...there are some things I don't talk about much and if you happen upon one of them...I'll tell you, and you don't have to worry about me being offended, okay?'

'Okay,' she said, smiling. 'I suppose it must be difficult for you, everyone treating you so delicately.'

'It gets old,' said Harry, shrugging. 'But I guess it's no worse than all that hero crap.'

'That part's not crap,' said Daphne firmly.

Harry blushed. 'Daphne--'

'No, just hear me out,' she said. 'Maybe you think a lot of people like you because of that Boy Who Lived stuff but I don't. And a lot of people are really impressed that you're so good at magic, and you are and it is impressive but so are a lot of people. You're not heroic because of that stuff.'

Harry was bright red as he continued to set out the food. 'Why am I, then?' he asked, not daring to meet her eyes.

'Because you don't run away,' she said.

He looked up at her. She was gazing at him softly, and the look in her eyes was warm and inviting and...sincere.

'Sometimes I want to run away,' he said.

'Everyone wants to run away sometimes,' she said.

She smiled, and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss her, so he did.

A few minutes later they came up for air, and Harry was unbearably hot and it had nothing to do with the day being so warm.

'We should eat,' said Daphne huskily. 'Before all the food gets cold.'

'Right,' said Harry, and he sat back from her and took a deep breath.

They ate some of the roast chicken, some green beans and mashed potatoes, they shared a loaf of crusty bread, drank butterbeer, and talked for a long time. He noticed that she ate slowly and took dainty bites and didn't fill her plate to overflowing as he did. As the time passed Harry found himself moving closer and closer to Daphne, and by the time they started nibbling on blueberry tart they were sitting right next to one another, their backs pressed against the tree, their shoulders and thighs touching. Harry tried to ignore the tingling in his body as he smiled at her.

'I'm stuffed,' Daphne announced. 'I think your friend Dobby gave us too much food.'

'You hardly ate anything,' said Harry.

'Not everyone can shovel food in their faces like you and not get fat,' Daphne pointed out. 'I'm watching my figure.'

'It looks good from where I'm sitting,' Harry blurted, and then she laughed and he realized what he'd said. He began to babble.

'I mean...oh, god, sorry, that wasn't...I don't mean your body looks good...I mean--it does, I just meant I wasn't looking at it...okay, I was but not in a rude way--'

Before he could make a further arse of himself she silenced him with her lips. He was so grateful that she wasn't angry with him for saying something so stupid that for a moment he forgot to kiss her back, but then he felt her press her lips against his harder and part her own, and the fact that she was kissing him clunked in his brain and he kissed her back.

She tasted of blueberry tart, and she kissed incredibly well. Not quite so well as Ginny...

Don't think about Ginny now, you idiot!

He kissed Daphne harder and he heard her moan against his lips and he forgot about Ginny altogether.

After a few more minutes they fell back onto the blankets, and Harry's head began to spin. It went on and on, this kissing, and his hands wandered, just a little...

'Harry, wait...' Daphne gasped.

'Sorry,' said Harry at once, yanking his hands away from her. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay,' she said. 'I...I just think...we need to stop.'

'Right,' he said.

'First date and all,' said Daphne, sitting up and smoothing her hair.

'Yeah,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair and trying desperately to calm down. The raging in his body was fierce and a part of him wanted to run to his room, seal off his bed and take care of the agony.

'Harry, are you okay?' Daphne asked.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'That was...really good.'

She gave him a look.

'The date, I mean,' said Harry. 'Well, the snog was good, too, but--'

'You're really cute when you get flustered, you know,' said Daphne, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

'Oh, that's good,' said Harry, 'I'm flustered around girls most of the time.'

She giggled and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

'We should probably head back,' she said.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I reckon we should.' She gave him a beautiful smile and together they began to return the remains of their picnic to the basket.

They stood.

'I had a lovely time,' said Daphne. 'Do you think we could--'

Whatever she was about to say was lost when they both heard a shout coming from some distance behind them.

'What the...' Harry turned round and saw the source of the commotion.

Draco Malfoy was standing about a hundred yards away, and across from him were Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott. Malfoy was shouting something at them--Harry was too far away to discern the words but the expression on Malfoy's face was clear even at this distance. He was angry about something. Angry, and scared.

In the next moment Nott stepped forward and started yelling.

'What's this?' said Harry, watching the proceedings with interest and a bit of wariness. 'I thought that bunch were Malfoy's mates.'

'Not anymore,' said Daphne. 'Ever since Malfoy testified...look, Harry...come on. Let's go, okay?'

'Wait,' said Harry, unable to look away as Crabbe shouted something at Malfoy and poked the smaller boy in the chest. Malfoy shouted something else and shoved at Crabbe, to no effect.

'Harry, come on,' said Daphne, tugging on his arm. 'It's not your business.'

Harry nodded absently and was about to walk away with Daphne when suddenly Crabbe shoved Malfoy, hard, and sent him tumbling to the ground.

'Uh oh,' said Harry, and without really thinking he drew his wand.

'Harry, what are you doing?' said Daphne, alarmed.

'Come on,' said Harry, 'this is going to get ugly if we don't do something.'

'Harry, no!' said Daphne. 'Just stay out of it.'

In the next instant, Goyle picked up Malfoy by the collar and carried the struggling boy over to a nearby tree, and a moment later, Goyle slammed Malfoy viciously against it; he was yelling in Malfoy's face.

'Daphne, come on,' said Harry. 'They're not using wands. We have to do something.'

'Why?' said Daphne.

'What do you mean, why?' said Harry, incredulous. 'Those three lumps are about to pummel Malfoy to pieces. We can't just ignore it.'

'It's not our business, Harry,' said Daphne. 'Besides, what do you care about Malfoy? You don't even like him.'

She can't be serious. Okay, yeah, Malfoy's a git but still...

'That's not the point,' said Harry angrily.

'What is the point, Harry?' said Daphne, now angry as well. 'What goes on with them is their own business, and you'd do well to stay out of it. I'm going back in. If you're smart you'll come with me.'

Harry stared at her as she folded her arms across her chest. He couldn't believe she wasn't going to even consider helping Malfoy. He turned back to see Goyle hurl Malfoy to the ground.

'He's in your damn house, Daphne!' said Harry, turning back to her. 'He's a Slytherin, doesn't that count for something? And, hang on, weren't you just saying something about not running away--'

'You don't get it, Harry!' Daphne shouted. 'Their fathers are Death Eaters, the rest of us can't just go around openly opposing them! I already lost my brother, I'm not going to risk anyone else just to help out Draco Malfoy!'

And with that, she turned on her heel and ran toward the castle. Harry stared after her for a moment, but his shock at her behaviour was interrupted by the distant sound of scuffling. He turned round again and grimaced when he saw Goyle throw a kick at Malfoy, who was lying on his side on the ground.

'Shit,' Harry muttered. He debated for all of three seconds whether he should in fact interfere. It was Malfoy, after all, and the git certainly deserved to get his arse kicked.

On the other hand, saving Malfoy's bacon means he'll owe you one. And won't that just piss him off no end.

Good point.

Harry took off at a sprint toward the fracas. By now Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were pretty well pounding on Malfoy, who was lying on the ground and ineffectually holding up his arms to ward off the worst of the blows.

'Hey!' Harry bellowed, his wand hand outstretched, as he came to a halt behind Crabbe and the others. Malfoy groaned and rolled onto his back.

'What the--?' said Goyle, stopping mid-kick to look incredulously at Harry.

'What do you want, Potter?' Crabbe grunted.

'Clear off,' said Harry. 'That's enough.'

'Did hell just freeze over?' Nott sneered. 'Harry Potter's trying to rescue Draco Malfoy!'

He burst into laughter, and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit.

Harry rolled his eyes.

They're even more pathetic than they used to be.

'Go...away...Potter,' Malfoy wheezed.

'Shut up!' Goyle snarled, and he kicked Draco in the small of the back, hard.

Harry wasn't sure why he did it, but suddenly he pointed his wand at Goyle and shouted 'Accido!'

Goyle had enough time to see the spell shooting toward him and to widen his eyes before he fell backwards in a heap. He gave a yelp of pain and grabbed his ankle, which was twisted.

'Hey!' Crabbe yelled, and he and Nott started to reach for their wands.

'Don't even think about it,' Harry snarled.

'This isn't your business, Potter,' said Nott.

'What do you care, anyway?' said Crabbe.

'Even Malfoy deserves to get his arse kicked in a fair fight,' said Harry. 'Three on one, no wands? That's yellow. But it's about what I'd expect from you lot.'

'Who are you calling yellow?' Crabbe growled.

'You, you fat, brainless lump,' said Harry. 'Get the hell out of here, or I'll give you worse than I gave Goyle.'

Nott and Crabbe looked at one another, then back at Goyle, who'd stood up but was trying not to lean on his injured ankle. Then at Malfoy, who was panting and coughing and trying to sit up.

'Fine,' said Nott. 'Crabbe, help Goyle.'

Crabbe grunted again and went to help Goyle walk. Goyle glared at Harry.

'You bloody rotter,' he seethed, wincing. 'You broke my ankle.'

'Be glad it wasn't your neck,' said Harry, still brandishing his wand. 'Now get out of here.'

Crabbe and Goyle started to hobble away, when Nott whirled on Harry.

'You're in deep shit now, Potter,' he said. 'You'll be sorry.'

'Ooh, I'm really scared,' said Harry sarcastically.

Nott snorted in disgust at Harry and then looked down at Malfoy, who was clutching his ribs; he was whey-faced and looked to be in serious pain.

'We're not done, Draco,' said Nott. 'Not even close. Next time your boyfriend Potter won't be around to save you.'

'Go...to hell...' Draco gasped, and he collapsed back on his elbows as Nott gave one last scathing at Harry before stalking off behind Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry watched them go for a good few minutes to make sure they were too far away to ambush him, and then turned back to Draco.

The blond boy was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow; he was coughing hard now, and clutching his ribs. His face was a network of bruises and cuts; his lip and nose were bleeding, and his left eye was blackened and swollen shut.

'You okay?' Harry asked.

'Potter...you idiot...look at me...' Draco wheezed. 'Do I look...okay to you?'

Harry rolled his eyes again. 'You're welcome.'

'Sod off,' said Draco, struggling to sit up. 'You shouldn't have...interfered...'

'Fine,' said Harry, exasperated. 'You know what, next time your former mates are using you as a punching bag, I'll leave them to it. Have fun dragging yourself to the hospital wing.'

He turned and started to leave, when suddenly Draco started to retch; Harry groaned and turned to see Draco coughing up blood.

'Shit,' said Harry.

This looks bad if he's coughing up blood.

Leave him. Ungrateful prick. He doesn't want your help.

'Can't...breathe...' Draco gasped, and indeed, it sounded like he was starting to hyperventilate. 'Hurts...'

Bloody hell.

'Come on,' said Harry, reaching down to help Malfoy up; he got a good grip on the blond boy's right arm and started to pull.

'Ow!' Draco hissed. 'Dammit...stop...trying to...move me...stupid pillock...'

'You need the hospital wing,' Harry snapped.

'No...hospital...' Malfoy groaned.

'Malfoy, you idiot, do you have a death wish?' said Harry.

'Pomfrey'll...ask questions...' Malfoy hissed. 'Can't tell...what happened.'

Harry blinked. 'Wait...are you saying you won't report this?'

'Brilliant...deduction, Potter,' Malfoy rasped, and he coughed up a little more blood.

'Are you out of your bloody mind?' Harry shouted. 'You heard them, they're not done with you. You'll get worse next time. Report them and you could have them expelled.'

'No!' Malfoy yelped, and for a moment the old arrogance vanished from his grey eyes and he looked scared and desperate, just as he had in the courtroom, moments before everyone realized his father had escaped.

'You...can't report them,' Malfoy pleaded. His eyes begged, and yet they held disgust as well, disgust at himself for being reduced to begging his oldest school enemy.

Harry said nothing.

'Please,' Malfoy spat.

Harry was so tempted to keep his silence, to force Malfoy to keep begging him for mercy. It would be just what he deserved, for the six years of misery he'd caused. But something else inside him made him say, 'Fine, Malfoy. I won't report them.' He paused. 'But you need to go to hospital.'

'No--'

'Dammit, Malfoy, don't be stupid,' said Harry harshly. 'I'm no good at healing stuff, and there's no time for me to fetch Hermione.'

Draco scowled and started to climb up; the old hubris crossed his face, the old hatefulness.

'I wouldn't...let that Mudblood...touch me...' he hissed.

Oh, you unbelievable prick.

A wave of fury hit Harry like a fist and he grabbed Draco by the collar and shook him, not caring if it hurt the other boy.

'Fuck you, arsehole,' said Harry savagely. 'I should let you die right here, alone and pathetic.'

Draco winced at the pain in his body but then sneered at Harry and smiled. The bastard actually smiled.

'You won't though...' said Malfoy. 'You're too...bloody...noble for that, aren't you, Potter?'

'Noble? I don't think so,' Harry countered, still gripping Malfoy's collar. 'I'm only taking you to the hospital wing to piss you off.'

Malfoy scowled at him again, and lifted a shaking hand and poked Harry in the chest. He spoke, this time without wheezing.

'You always were a twat, Potter,' he said, and he swayed on his feet for a moment; his eyes rolled back before he passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry tried to wake Malfoy up, but he remained resolutely unconscious, and Harry had no choice but to levitate the other boy back to the castle. Thankfully the grounds were empty when he did this; he didn't want to have to bother with explanations as to why he was levitating a badly beaten, out-cold Draco Malfoy.

Upon reaching the hospital wing Madam Pomfrey let out a shocked gasp and quickly set Malfoy on a bed; she then ordered Harry to fetch McGonagall, which he did, and he was grateful that McGonagall didn't ask him too many questions when he explained that Malfoy was in the hospital wing.

Harry, for his part, knew it would be up to him now to concoct some sort of story as to why Draco was so beat up. He chose a half-truth; he'd been on a lunch date outdoors, and after it was over he'd decided to take a walk; he'd found Malfoy lying on the grass about fifty yards from the edge of the forest.

'You say you found him like this?' Madam Pomfrey said anxiously, as she dabbed at a cut on Malfoy's cheek. 'He was unconscious?'

A cart stood next to the bed on which Malfoy lay unconscious; its shelves were bursting with potions and salves.

'Yes, ma'am,' said Harry, hoping he sounded convincing.

McGonagall gave him a hard look. 'You're telling me you had nothing to do with his injuries?' she said. 'Because I know your history with this boy, Potter.'

'I swear I didn't hurt him,' said Harry quickly, grateful that he didn't have to lie about this part.

'You say you were having lunch with a classmate?' said McGonagall. 'Which one?'

Harry blushed. 'Er, Daphne Greengrass.'

'Miss Greengrass?' said McGonagall, surprised. 'Really? Well...and she didn't see anything?'

'No,' Harry lied, trying not to betray his irritation at Daphne's weird behaviour. 'We...parted ways right after we finished lunch.'

McGonagall eyed him suspiciously for a moment; Harry knew she suspected him of 'fraternizing' with Daphne--she had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out that kind of activity--but she did seem to buy his explanation of Daphne not seeing anything regarding Malfoy.

'Who could have done this to him, do you think?' McGonagall asked.

'I don't know,' Harry said slowly.

'You say he wasn't all that far from the edge of the forest?'

Harry swallowed and looked right in her eyes. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'As long as he's unconscious, then, we can't learn anything about his attackers--'

At that moment Draco began to gurgle and cough again. Madam Pomfrey quickly turned him on his side and blood trickled out of his mouth.

'Oh, my goodness,' McGonagall breathed.

'His ribs are broken,' said Madam Pomfrey. 'And it looks like he has a punctured lung. He needs St. Mungo's right now.'

'I'll take him myself,' said McGonagall. 'Potter, get back to your common room right now, and say nothing of this. Poppy, send word to Amelia Bones that I'll be using an Emergency Portkey and contact a healer you trust at St. Mungo's--we need to keep this as quiet as possible. It looks as if Mr. Malfoy's life is still in grave danger.'

'Of course, Minerva,' said Pomfrey, and she stood up and headed quickly to her fireplace.

'Go on, Potter,' said McGonagall, nodding at him.

Harry nodded and backed out of the room; he caught McGonagall picking up a random potion bottle from Madam Pomfrey and tapping it with her wand. The bottle glowed blue.

'Go on, Potter!' Madam Pomfrey barked, and Harry hurried out of the hospital wing, guilt and anger gnawing at his insides. What had started out as a lovely day had ended badly, very badly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until after dinner that Harry told Ron and Hermione what had happened with Malfoy; he hadn't meant to, but the events of earlier that day were picking at him so relentlessly that he found he had to get it off his chest.

'I can't believe you rescued that prat,' said Ron, shaking his head, as they sat in the empty common room in front of the fire. They had their books out but had abandoned even the pretext of studying.

'What else could he do, leave him there?' said Hermione irritably. 'Malfoy would have died, Ron.'

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' Ron muttered.

Harry watched the two of them and felt it at once: a frisson of barely contained irritation. Something was definitely going on with the two of them, and Harry had a fairly good idea what.

'You don't mean that, Ron,' said Hermione, through clenched teeth.

'Don't tell me what I mean,' Ron snapped.

'You're the one who's always saying I have a "saving people" thing,' Harry pointed out, trying to head off what was threatening to be a fairly spectacular row.

'In this case I'm glad you did,' said Hermione fervently.

'You're glad?' Ron said incredulously. 'What, you suddenly like Malfoy or something?'

'Don't be ridiculous, Ron, of course not,' said Hermione angrily. 'But he's still a human being.'

Ron snorted. 'Whatever,' he said grumpily.

Hermione glowered at him for a moment before turning to Harry.

'How was your date, Harry?' she asked.

Harry blinked and felt his neck get hot again. 'Fine,' he said shortly.

'Daphne seems like a nice girl,' said Hermione.

'I guess so,' said Harry, not really wanting to talk about his date, how it had been going just swimmingly until they'd both witnessed the fight between Malfoy and his former mates.

'Will you be seeing her again, do you think?' Hermione asked.

'Maybe,' Harry mumbled, although at the moment, he didn't think so. He realized he wasn't angry with her for running away, for being afraid, so much as...disappointed. After all, everyone was afraid. He was afraid, and he'd lost people, too, and hadn't she said he was heroic for not running away? So why had she?

Hermione smiled warmly at Harry, and her eyes twinkled.

'Did you kiss?' she asked.

'Jesus bloody Christ, Hermione!' Ron exploded. 'Are you blind? He doesn't want to talk about his date, okay?'

Hermione gaped at him, and her face became a mask of hurt.

'I was simply asking--'

'Well, don't!' said Ron. 'Would it be too much to ask for you to back off, for once?'

'Ron,' said Harry, appalled at his best mate's behaviour. Hermione's eyes filled with angry tears.

'Fine,' she said, her voice shaking. 'Fine. I'm going.' She stood up and gathered her books.

She was struggling not to break down, and Harry felt a rush of sympathy for her, and an equally strong rush of anger at Ron. He could be a real prat when he wanted to be.

Hermione stood up, straightened her shoulders and marched purposefully toward the portrait hole. Just before she climbed inside, she turned and stared at Ron, her face a mixture of hurt and fury.

'I know you've had a rough few days, Ron,' she said, her voice shaking even harder as a tear slid down her cheek. 'And I know...I know I don't fully understand what you're dealing with, but you have no right to take your frustrations out on me.'

And with that, she turned and climbed through the portrait hole. Harry watched her go and then turned back to Ron, who was looking down at his shoes.

'That was totally out of line, Ron,' Harry snapped. 'What the hell is wrong with you? How could you be like that to her?'

'You don't understand--' Ron began hotly.

'Bullshit,' Harry retorted. 'You haven't been that rude to her since fourth year. If this is about what Firenze said--'

'That's exactly what it's about, Harry!' Ron shouted. 'Bugger! I've spent the last two days meditating my bloody arse off and the only things I see are horrible.'

'So because you're stressed out you decide to be mean to your girlfriend?' Harry countered.

'Oh, listen to you, lecturing me on being nice to my friends when I'm under pressure!' Ron bellowed. 'How many times have you treated us like shit when all we were doing was--'

'And I was wrong!' Harry yelled. 'Totally and completely wrong and I thank Merlin every day that the two of you didn't abandon me for being such a bastard to you both.'

'I saw her die!' Ron said suddenly, and his voice was no longer angry but stricken. 'I saw...dammit, Harry...'

And he sank onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

Oh, Jesus.

Harry swallowed his anger and sat down next to Ron; he hadn't seen his best mate this upset since that night in the Riddle House.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked gently, and he awkwardly laid a hand on Ron's arm.

Ron looked up; his eyes were dry, but red-rimmed.

'This morning I was meditating,' he said, practically spitting out the last word. 'And...I saw...last term at the Riddle House, when Dolohov cut her and...and put the poison in her. And...and we got away because...because of Snape and I went looking for her and I...I fought Dolohov and I killed him but...but when I went to get Hermione out of that room...Lucius Malfoy had her...he had her and before I could get to her he...he...he killed her. And he was laughing and...and calling her a Mudblood and...she was bleeding everywhere...'

Ron's eyes welled up and he looked away, ashamed.

'Jesus,' Harry whispered.

Ron wiped angrily at his face.

'Ron,' Harry said, 'that's in the past and you did save her, remember? You got her out and she made it.'

'I know,' Ron said. 'That's not the point, Harry. I'm supposed to be seeing the future but I keep seeing things that have already happened, only...they always end badly. I saw you die, too...'

'Oh, well,' said Harry. 'Last time I checked I'm still alive.'

Ron laughed, but it was a harsh, choked sort of laugh, halfway between that and a sob.

'I can't even touch her,' he said bitterly. 'She tried to...to comfort me earlier by hugging me but...dammit. When she touches me I want to do...other stuff and I'm not supposed to because it's a distraction. But how am I supposed to deal with this stuff? I can't even take my broom out for a fly.'

Harry gave him a look. 'Er, Ron...' he said, striving to be delicate. 'If you can't...you know, with her...can't you just...take care of things on your own?'

'No,' said Ron. 'Can't even do that. I went and asked Firenze yesterday, can you believe it? It was the most humiliating thing I've ever done. Well, except for Quidditch in fifth year. Two days, Harry, two days of knowing I can't have sex with my girlfriend and it feels like a year. It's not like Firenze asked me to sacrifice a limb. I should be stronger than this. How pathetic is that?'

'Not pathetic,' said Harry. 'That's half the benefit of having a girlfriend. Okay, maybe not half but...you know what I mean. You won't get any argument from me that shagging can keep a guy sane. And having a girlfriend means you can shag pretty much whenever you want. And anyway, it's only two weeks, Ron. Think about me. I haven't had sex in months.'

Ron looked at Harry sheepishly and grinned. 'Right. Sorry.'

'Then again, I can take care of things myself,' Harry mused.

Ron screwed up his face in distaste, but then he laughed, and Harry laughed.

Ron's face dissolved into misery almost at once.

'I made her cry,' he said sadly. 'I'm a bastard. I swore to myself when we got together that I wouldn't ever make her cry again and...I've gone and done it.'

'Why don't you go to her right now and apologize, then?' said Harry. 'She'll forgive you.'

'I've really buggered things up,' said Ron.

'So fix it,' said Harry.

'I knew it was going to be bad,' said Ron. 'I just...it's worse than I thought. It's like the pictures won't get out of my head, it's just blood and murder and rape and...I never knew people were that messed up, mate. I mean, I know Voldemort and his prats are nutters but...it's like the only thing I'm seeing are terrible people doing terrible things...Only two days into this and I feel like absolute shit, I'm taking it out on my friends, making my girlfriend cry--'

'Ron,' Harry interrupted. 'Go and talk to her. Apologize, grovel, kiss her feet. She'll understand. She loves you.'

Ron looked at him for a long moment.

'She loves you,' Harry said again.

'Yeah, she does,' said Ron, and he smiled sadly. 'I always knew she was mental.'

He got up and ran a hand through his hair and started for the portrait hole. Just before he went inside he turned back to Harry.

'Thanks, mate,' he said, and he left.

Harry watched him go and felt a heavy weight in his chest ease slightly. He suddenly realized how important it was to him for Ron and Hermione to be together. They needed each other, they belonged together, but more than that...

I need them. Together. Because they're stronger that way, they can be stronger for me...

You're a selfish one, Potter.

Yeah, I know.

But it was more than that. He wanted his best friends to be happy, and they were happiest together. He knew that.

Harry stared into the fire, losing himself in his thoughts, when he heard the portrait hole creak. He turned to see Professor McGonagall enter the common room, followed by a short, dark haired witch he didn't know.

'Hello, Potter,' said McGonagall crisply. 'Have you seen Miss Weasley?'

'Ginny?' Harry said, looking at the petite witch who stood just to the left of and behind McGonagall. The witch was probably somewhere between forty and fifty, judging by the strands of grey that ran through her otherwise dark, softly curling hair, but her heart-shaped face and brown, sparkling eyes were surprisingly young.

And surprisingly familiar.

'Mr. Potter?' said McGonagall.

'Oh, right,' said Harry. 'Ginny. I saw her after dinner, she said she was going to her room to study.'

'Very good, then,' said McGonagall, and she made to walk to the girls' staircases.

'You're Harry Potter,' said the familiar, unfamiliar witch.

'Yeah,' said Harry uncomfortably, automatically lifting a hand to flatten his black fringe.

'Nymphadora's told me all about you,' said the witch, and she strode gracefully over to Harry and held out her hand. 'I'm her mother, Andromeda Tonks.'

Harry's eyes widened. 'You're...Tonks's mother?'

'Oh, dear, I see she's still refusing to let people address her by her given name,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Harry.'

Harry took her hand and shook it.

'You, too,' said Harry, and suddenly he felt a rush of pleasant warmth, of cordial emotion flood his brain. It radiated from their joined hands.

She's an Empath. Holy shit...

'You're here to train Ginny, aren't you?' he blurted.

'Now, Potter,' McGonagall warned.

'It's all right, Minerva,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Yes, I am, Harry. Normally I wouldn't show up here on a Sunday evening but it was the first opportunity I could get away. Is Ginny a friend of yours?'

'Yeah, she is,' said Harry. 'A good friend.'

Mrs. Tonks smiled at him and let go of his hand. 'I'll be sure to take good care of her, then.'

'Thanks,' said Harry.

'Shall we, Andromeda?' said McGonagall, beckoning to the girls' stairs.

'I'll see you around, Harry,' said Mrs. Tonks, and she smiled one last time before heading toward the stairs.

Harry watched the two women go, and sat back down on the sofa. The last time he'd experienced such a roller-coaster of a day had been on that fateful afternoon when Death Eaters and Dementors invaded the Quidditch pitch. He lay back on the sofa, exhausted, grateful at least that someone was here to help Ginny deal with her problems. He was asleep in less than a minute.