The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 8: Crossing the Line

Hermione was sitting in the second-floor living gallery, her elbows resting on her knees and her head cradled in her hands, trying to determine at what point things had spiralled so hopelessly out of control. She could hear George rattling around in the kitchen downstairs, cooking food that no one would eat. Laura's injuries would keep her at the hospital for awhile yet; Justin would bring her home. Lupin, imprisoned within his own wolf body, was in a cage in Confinement where he was being watched carefully to see if he would throw off the effects of the poisoned wolfsbane. It would likely be at least a day before they knew for sure. She'd just come home, physically and emotionally drained, to find the following note from Harry taped to her bedroom door:

"H -- Gone to ID. Lefty Mamakos injured in attack on ID trainees. Stay here!!!"

Unable to think of anything else to do or anywhere else to go, she had obeyed. Allegra had taken another pawn in her coldly calculated game, and her choice of victim was significant. She could only imagine Harry's reaction at hearing that his beloved mentor had fallen victim to her schemes. He had represented the best of what Harry had joined the I.D. for and if he could be laid low, anyone could. It was all happening again. Voldemort was systematically dismantling Harry's world by attacking everyone and everything around him. If this kept up he'd soon have nothing left...and it didn't escape her notice that she herself was probably a prime target, though Allegra would likely save her for last.

She straightened as she heard the front door slam, then running footsteps coming through the hallway. She watched as Harry bounded up the stairs two at a time to the gallery, then ran across to the archway beyond which were the stairs that led to his room; he didn't seem to see her. His face was grimly determined. She got up to follow him.

Harry's room was on the third floor of the central wing of the house. It was the largest and most interesting of any of their bedchambers; George had insisted Harry take it. "I think having saved the world entitles a person to dibs on the really naff bedroom," he'd said. Harry had been embarrassed but hadn't objected to the arrangement; it was indeed the best room, and the only one in the house with a name: The Cloister. It was long and wide, ringed with bay windows and two fireplaces. There was no ceiling per se, where one would be were instead tempered panes of glass in a vaulted ironwork frame. The glass was charmed to prevent breakage and keep away birds and outdoor detritus.

Hermione followed him up the stairs and pushed open the door to his room to find him tossing clothes into his trunk, along with various items from his room that he seemed to be grabbing at random. He glanced at her, registering her presence, but said nothing, just went back to whatever he was doing. Whatever he'd seen at the I.D., it had been the last straw. The composure he'd had at the hospital was gone...he was just reacting now, she could see it in his face.

"Harry...I'm so sorry about Lefty," she said quietly. "Is he all right?

He shook his head. "Depends on your definition of the term. He'll live, but he'll have to do so without his left leg and his right hand." Hermione shut her eyes. "She attacked trainees, Hermione. They couldn't defend themselves and Lefty lost body parts saving them, just as she knew he would. This will end, right now." He kept stuffing belongings into his trunk.

"What's all this?" she said, afraid she knew the answer.

"I'm leaving," he said, his tone clipped and controlled.

"For how long?" she asked, keeping her own tone as casual as possible.

At that, he stopped and looked up at her. "I'm not coming back. I'm leaving for good."

She took two long strides towards him. "What are you talking about? This is your home!"

"Not anymore. I'll still cover my portion of the mortgage if that's what's worrying you."

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. "What the bloody hell's the matter with you?" she shouted. "You think I care one jot about money at a time like this? You can't just leave!"

He straightened, his eyes blazing. "I can, and I will!" he shouted back. "As long as I stay here and do nothing I'm endangering the entire household!" He brushed past her to scoop up some books. She turned in circles where she stood, following his fevered progress around the room.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? It's an exercise in futility! As long as you still care about us he can still use us against you, no matter how far away you run! You might as well stay here where at least you can see it coming!"

"No! He's doing all this for a reason and it has nothing to do with you. He wants me, he's going to get me. Once I come after him he'll leave you alone." Hermione was starting to wonder if he meant "you" as in "all of you" or if he just meant her.

She shook her head, tears threatening. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

He wheeled on her, his eyes blazing. "For someone as smart as you are, you're awfully thick sometimes! Don't you see? I'm doing this for you! Voldemort has taken from me everyone I've ever really cared for in my life...my parents, Sirius, Hagrid, Dumbledore...and then he took Ron too, and we both know neither of us ever really got over that. I thought I dealt with him for good but I should have known better; he's come back and he will make me pay! I can't stand by and do nothing while he sets about finishing the job! If I have to pay for challenging him then I'll pay with my own life, not yours!" Hermione shrank away from his fury. He held up his right hand, palm towards her. In the center was a small comma-shaped scar that he'd had for years. "You see this scar?"

She nodded numbly. "You...you cut yourself on a piece of a broken crystal ball..."

"No. That's what I told you. The cut that left this scar was made by my own hand. The night after..." He paused and gathered himself together. "The night after Ron died, I snuck out of Hogwarts and went to his gravesite. I took out a knife and cut my own hand, and I made a promise to him. I swore, in my own blood over his grave, that I'd never let what happened to him happen to you. I wanted to leave a scar just so I'd never forget, as if I ever could." He reached out and laid his hand on her cheek; she could almost feel the scar burning against her skin. "Don't you understand a thing? You are all that I have left in the world! He's not going to get you, not ever, not while I live. That's why I have to get as far away as possible, I don't care how much it hurts!"

She shook her head, equal parts touched and furious. "We're not children anymore, Harry. I'm not some swooning medieval damsel. I don't need you to defend me, and I don't want your misguided chivalry! If you want to play the martyr then you'd better play it to the hedgerows because I won't be a very appreciative audience! You want to protect me? Fine! Let us protect each other!"

He stepped away, dismissing her words with a quick shake of his head. "It's not that simple."

"I don't care!" He turned away, apparently deciding she was a lost cause, and slammed his trunk closed. He hauled it off the bed and with a wave of his hand it floated after him as he strode out of the room and down the stairs. Hermione followed close behind. When they reached the second-floor gallery she murmured a few words of her own and his trunk thumped unceremoniously to the ground. He spun around, his face angry.

"Let me go, Hermione!"

"No! You're mad if you think I'm just going to stand at the window and stoically wave my hanky while you ride gallantly away! You think you're giving me the hard truth? How's this for hard truth: You *can't* just walk out that door and cut yourself out of my life, because it's never going to be over between us, do you hear me, Harold James Potter? Never!" she yelled at him. Some distant part of her mind was aware that they were both crossing The Line, that boundary between friendship and something unspoken that they'd drawn for themselves so many years ago. They never spoke of it but were always conscious of its existence; whatever lay beyond The Line, Hermione was eyeball to eyeball with it at this moment.

His hands rose to clutch at his own hair. "It's the only thing I can do!" he cried. "I can't fight him, he's everywhere and nowhere! How can I fight what I can't see? I have to get away and find him!" She saw that he was just barely keeping his emotions in check.

"You'll have to go through me first!" she screamed. The tears were very close now.

He suddenly dropped his hands and closed the distance between them in two long strides. He reached out and grasped her rougly by the upper arms. She stared up into his face, made strange by near-panic and raw emotion. He was hanging on by a very thin thread. "You listen to me," he said, his hoarse voice intense and near cracking. "It's the only way, understand? I have to go!" His fingers gripped her arms like vises, transmitting his trembling through her shoulders to shiver through her entire body. His green eyes were brimming with tears which began to run down his cheeks as she watched; she was only marginally aware of the tears streaming down her own face. "I'm going and you can't stop me!" His breath was coming in huge, ragged gasps now. Hermione couldn't speak, she just stood there helplessly while he shook her by the arms as punctuation. "You can't stop me...you can't...you...you..." His voice gave out and his face crumbled; he stared into her eyes for a few agonizing seconds, shaking his head. His gaze was filled with speechless disbelief, as if he'd never known himself until that moment.

An ancient and decaying wall inside Hermione's heart collapsed with a mighty crash and she threw her arms around his neck with a cry, swallowing past the hoarse sobs that rose in her throat. He clutched her to his chest with panicky tightness, burying his face in her hair. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his back but no matter how she tried she couldn't hold him any tighter. "Harry, I don't..." she began, then all at once found that she could not continue because his lips were in the way, pressing urgently against her own. For a shocked second Hermione wasn't sure what was happening, then she opened her eyes to find Harry just staring at her with a dumbfounded expression on his face; her mouth was tingling from what had not been an imaginary kiss. Did that just happen? she thought. Her mind was racing; We're crossing The Line! it yammered. This will change everything! Your life will never be the same! She ignored its warnings; what else could she do? She slid her hands around to the back of his neck and stood on tiptoe to bring her lips to his, hesitantly; his arms encircled her with light pressure to draw her closer. Once the contact was made, however, all restraint vanished as if a switch had been thrown. He plunged his fingers into her hair and she melted against him, tightening her arms around his shoulders as they kissed, caught up in a tidal wave of passion so intense Hermione had to wonder where it had come from...or perhaps it had been there all along, just biding its time.

Harry had kissed her before. Friendly peck on the cheek. Smacking and exaggerated (but innocuous) kiss hello. Chaste, closed-mouth smooch on New Year's Eve. She had hugged him as freely as she would a close female friend or a brother. He had changed clothes in front of her. She had cut his hair for him. He had seen her in nothing but a towel with her hair dripping water onto her shoulders. They had carried on conversations while in the same bathroom, he in the shower and she brushing her teeth at the sink. There was no mystery left there, no idiosyncracies left to be uncovered. At no time had there been any tension, because they'd had The Line and woe be to anyone who crossed it. They had certainly never kissed like this. The truth was that she'd never kissed anyone like this, and that included every boyfriend or lover she'd ever had. Her mind was spinning and spinning and her bones felt like they were liquefying inside her skin, his body heat warming her all over. Her neck arched, her head falling back so that she stared wonderingly at the ceiling of the gallery as his mouth moved down the pale column of her neck, her hands tangled restlessly in his unruly mop of hair. He took a breath and seemed about to speak; she dragged his lips back to hers, cutting off his words. She angled her head towards him, both of them bound up by a strange urgency that made her pull him closer, small sounds escaping her throat, and made him kiss her harder so she could scarcely breathe. Their positions shifted as Harry bent quickly, slipped his arm behind her knees and picked her up. She turned her head without breaking the kiss, holding onto him with one arm around his shoulders, as he carried her back to the archway through which they'd just come.

**********

Three hours later, Hermione sat in one of the huge cushioned window seats in the Cloister with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking out at the moon-drenched backyard. It was a full moon tonight and it looked almost bright enough out there to read without a lamp. She was wrapped in Harry's robe; it was too large for her, but it was soft and it smelled like him. She turned her head to look at him, asleep on his side in the huge bed, one arm curled around a pillow. A slight smile was on his face, which looked strangely naked as it always did without his glasses. Hermione sighed, wondering if she was going to wake up soon and find that this was all a dream. I've just slept with Harry? That's a load of rubbish, he and I have never been involved in that way. It couldn't be real, it was too strange to be real. Maybe I imagined it, she thought. I sleepwalked up here and hallucinated the whole thing...but she knew that wasn't true. There was ample evidence to the contrary. The room was strewn with articles of their clothing that lay wherever they'd landed, and her whole body was tingling pleasantly in memory of an all too physical experience. Her chest hitched once and her vision blurred through the prism of unshed tears. Hermione pressed her fist to her mouth as the teardrops fell from her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks.

"Hermione?" came a soft, sleep-muddled voice. She looked around; he was just turning over, still mostly asleep, but he'd noticed her absence. He blinked and propped himself up on his elbows, squinting at her myopically. "What are you doing?" he murmured, rubbing at his eyes. Sleepy disorientation made him seem much younger than his 26 years, and for a moment Hermione saw the young boy she'd befriended so long ago instead of the man that she knew today. She shivered at the powerfully discordant image, then he sat all the way up and the grogginess left his face, shattering the impression.

She smiled. "Just thinking."

He slid to the edge of the bed and rose, wrapping a sheet around his hips as he came over and sat on the edge of the window seat next to her. She turned her face away so he wouldn't see the wetness there, but she wasn't fast enough. He peered at her, his brow furrowing, then reached out and cupped her cheek in one hand, wiping away the tears with his thumb. He smiled gently at her. "What are you thinking about that's making you cry?"

She sighed, lowering her eyes. "I think...I need to grieve for a bit."

He nodded. "I know."

She looked up, surprised. "You do?" She had expected to have to explain this to him.

"I feel it too. Our friendship is over, Hermione. No matter where we go from here, what we had before is gone forever. It's perfectly natural to feel the loss."

She smiled and covered his hand with her own. "And to think there was a time when I thought you were an insensitive git."

He chuckled. "I am an insensitive git, but not about this." He took his hand away and stretched his legs out into the room, staring off into space. Hermione watched his profile, the pale moonlight slanting off his skin so it shone like marble. They sat in silence for a few moments. Harry fidgeted slightly and seemed afraid to look at her all of a sudden. Hermione could see the muscles in his jaw working. "Do you..." he began, then cleared his throat, keeping his face averted. "Are you sorry?" he said, his voice quiet. Only after speaking did he dare to raise his eyes, looking at her from under his lowered brow.

Hermione shook her head slowly, touched by the anxious expression on his face. "No," she said. "I'm not sorry." He let out a relieved breath and beamed a wide smile; it lit up his entire face. She smiled back and leaned in to kiss him. "Come up here with me, let's talk," she said. He slid around behind her so she could snuggle against his chest, his arms encircling her. Despite her invitation, for a long while they said nothing, content just to hold each other, accustoming themselves to this new intimacy. Hermione sighed and let her eyes fall closed, the rythym of his breathing lulling her into a comfortable lethargy, one of his hands slowly stroking her hair.

"I can't believe this is real," he said at last.

"I know. Just a few minutes ago, while you were still asleep, I almost had myself convinced I'd dreamt the whole thing." She raised her head from his shoulder and looked up into his face. "Harry...what changed?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well...it's been fifteen years for us, and now this, out of nowhere. What changed? Why now?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "A lot of things have happened in the last few weeks. I think perhaps...all this upheaval just weakened our defenses. I can't speak for you, but as for me...I never really knew it on a conscious level, but I've been fighting this for a long time."

"Me too," she said.

"Because of..."

"...Ron," she finished.

"Yes. But there more to it than that. I think we had a lot invested in the whole idea of a platonic friendship...as if we had something to prove by staying away from each other." He kissed her forehead. "Then there was The Line."

Hermione smiled, amused that he'd thought of it in the same way she had. "Yes, that pesky Line. I think this time we've really crossed it, don't you?"

He chuckled. "And how."

She fell silent, nestling her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Half of her was just waiting, waiting for all the death and pain of the last six hours to come roaring back and destroy this oasis of tranquility. "Are we going to talk about it?" she whispered.

He hesitated so long before answering that she began to wonder if he'd heard her. "We should."

"Are we safe here?"

"Safer here than anywhere else."

"Then let's not talk about it...not yet."

"There's nothing I can do that I haven't already done, not right now."

"It occurs to me that for most people, this would be the time that they'd have that obligatory conversation where they discuss their lovers past."

"Sort of redundant for us, isn't it? I can probably name all of yours myself."

She raised her head and smirked at him. "Really? You were paying that much attention?"

"I always pay attention to you."

"Ha! All right, Potter, you're on. And don't leave anyone out."

He took a deep breath and drew himself up. Hermione sat up straighter and watched, bemused. "All right, here goes; in chronological order. The honor of being first would have to go to Horace, the sensitive and intelligent graduate-school TA."

"Sensitive and intelligent and completely self-centered. But he did have lovely eyes."

"Next there was Rufus the herbologist...I didn't like him."

"I know. He was terrified of you. Every time he came to pick me up he'd skulk about on the doorstep afraid you'd singe his hair off with a lightning bolt."

"Then your grand and torrid affair," he said dramatically, "with Dr. Kilroy the suave and dashing writer."

She covered her eyes with her hand, groaning. "Could I ever have been that young?"

"You were 22!"

"Yes! Going on 16 whenever he was around!"

He looked away. "You know, there were times when it was all I could do to hold my tongue when you were with him. He wasn't good for you at all...and he was far too attached to hair-care products."

"You're right, it was very unhealthy. And he didn't approve of you or the fact that I lived with you. He kept pressuring me to leave and move in with him. It finally got to be too much and I broke it off."

He brushed her hair back from her face. "I remember the night you did that. You came home and you were beside yourself. I was so relieved you'd gotten up the stones to do it."

"I cried for hours. I knew it was the right thing but it was still...painful." She slipped her arms around his waist. "You came into my room with tea and my favorite scones and you held me and told me everything would be all right. I was so glad you were there."

"I may have seemed calm and comforting but I was secretly plotting all the ways I might inflict serious pain on that bastard without ending up in jail. No one hurts my Hermione."

"My hero," she chuckled.

"And then after Pomade Boy, just...Gerald," he said, his tone darkening over the name of her current paramour, "and now me. My, what esteemed company I'm in."

Hermione sat straight up, her eyes wide. "Oh my heavens...Gerald! How am I going to tell him?"

"Well if you'd rather not, I'd be only too delighted to tell him that you've traded up..."

"I bet you would. No, I'll owl him tomorrow and just tell him it's over." Her expression softened; she reached out and stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Honestly, I don't think he'll be all that surprised. And it'll free him up to get a more fashionable girlfriend."

"That finishes you up, then. Your turn."

She shrugged. "Oh, you're easy."

"Easy like Sunday morning," he joked in a horrible American accent that sounded like Elvis if he'd been from Manchester.

She laughed. "No, I mean you've only had two. You waited a long time, till you were 21...not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you. First Ginny, and then Ronin the scary Goth-witch. I wasn't sorry to see the back of her, I don't mind telling you. I always suspected she was trying to hex me when my back was turned."

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I've led a remarkably uneventful love life. Too busy, I guess." He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "Except...you missed one."

She frowned. "No, I didn't."

"There was someone you didn't know about, before Ginny."

"Ah," she said, biting her lower lip. "Well...if you want the truth, I had someone you didn't know about, too." They just looked at each other for a moment. "You first...and if you say it was Cho I will have to kill you."

He snorted short laughter. "Oh no, I never slept with Cho. I think she wanted to..."

"She still wants to."

"...but I wasn't ready for that. No, this was someone else." He stared at his hands, his fingers laced tightly together in his lap. "I met her while I was in training at ID. She was one of my teachers."

Hermione could sense that this was a painful subject for him. She reached out and took one of his hands in both of her own. "Tell me about her."

He turned to look out the window as he spoke. "She was an expert in attack magic, the sort of thing one needs to learn in my line of work. The moment we met, there was a kind of...animal attraction between us, it was very potent. We couldn't stay away from each other. It wasn't long before we were spending every available minute together."

"I remember you being very distracted around that time, and not home very much. I thought it was just your new job, whatever it was."

"It was partly the job, but it was mostly her. It was the kind of all-consuming passionateaffair that blots out the rest of the world and makes everything else seem irrelevant. It was something like your relationship with Dr. Kilroy...unhealthy, but so irresistible that you can't help yourself." She nodded, fighting down jealousy. This woman was in his past, she reminded herself. "She was my first, and she made me feel like there was nothing else in the world."

"You loved her," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

"No, that's just it. I don't think it was love. It was some kind of mutual addiction."

"What happened?" She put a hand over her mouth, realizing he'd been using past tense all this time. "Oh no...did she die?"

He shook his head. "No. Worse." He met her eyes and grasped her hands, tightly. "She betrayed me, Hermione. She betrayed all of the I.D.. She crossed over and became a dark wizard. She used me to set up an ambush for some of our agents...four of them died. I was lucky to escape alive, and the last I saw of her she was running away with her new colleagues, laughing at me."

Dark suspicion was growing within Hermione's heart. "Harry...are you talking about Allegra?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yes. Allegra was my lover, years ago. At one time she was good, or at least she had me believing that she was. I knew, even back then, that I hadn't seen the last of her. I never thought it would come to this...though I can't ever bring myself to hate her as much as she seems to hate me."

"I'm so sorry, Harry. How horrible it must be for you to know what she's become."

"It's no trip to the fair, I don't mind telling you. It took me a long time to get over her." He forced a smile. "So now you know my secret lover...what about yours?"

She took a deep breath. "Can't you guess?"

He looked away. "Ron."

Hermione nodded, a lump rising in her throat. "He was the first."

"I never knew that."

"It's hard to think about it. You see...we were only together once, on the day he died." Harry stared at her, a stricken expression on her face. "We'd talked about it...we'd been dating for over a year and we'd moved fairly slowly, but we were ready to take that last step. We were up in the winter garden room at Hogwarts, and all at once it just seemed like the right time. Ron locked the door with his wand, and..." She swiped at her eyes. "I haven't ever talked about this, it's difficult."

"You and I went to practice dueling that night...that's when Ron got the note," Harry said hoarsely. "When we got back to the castle..." He didn't need to finish, they both remembered that horrible night all too well. Hermione met his eyes and saw the same pain there that lived in her heart; she buried herself in his arms, her tears wetting the skin of his bare chest. "That was the last straw for me," he said quietly, his chin resting on top of her head. "I vowed that I'd destroy Voldemort...and I will."

"Let's not talk about it," she said, not holding out much hope that they could avoid it.

"We have to talk about it," he said, tightening his arms around her. "I was ready to leave forever a few hours ago, and it still makes sense for me to do so."

"No!" she said, pulling out of his arms and sitting up. "It makes no sense! I can't believe you'd still try and leave after what's just happened between us!"

"What's between us makes it even more important for me to take action! If he thought he could use you against me before, imagine how much more tempting it would be for him now!" He lowered his eyes and his voice. "I only began to live when I came to Hogwarts, you know. My childhood with the Dursleys...it's hardly even part of my existence, at least no part that matters. You've been with me my entire life, Hermione. I've grown up with you by my side." He reached out and gripped her forearms, his eyes intense. "I wouldn't know how to live if you weren't with me. I don't know how to be Harry Potter without you!" Hermione stifled a sob and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. "Ihave to defeat him before he takes you from me," Harry said hoarsely.

"What if he takes you from me?" she said, drawing back. "I'm sure it would be fine for you, out there pursuing him and taking revenge and making the world safe for democracy, but what about me? I couldn't stand it, Harry...just to be here day after day not knowing where you were or whether you were alive or dead!" She shook her head, fixing him with her most persuasive stare. "We used to face trouble together. Why is that suddenly wrong?"

"It's impossible, you'd be in danger..."

"All right, I'd be in danger. Maybe that's my choice, Harry! If I want to risk danger for you then how dare you tell me that I can't!" He slid off the window seat and began to pace, his arms crossed over his chest. Hermione watched his agitation growing as she spoke. "Whatever's going to happen will happen, but if we can't stand together against it...well then, what have we got?"

He was shaking his head rapidly back and forth, as if trying to deny something to himself. He stopped pacing and came to stand before her; suddenly he dropped to his knees and buried his head in her lap. "I don't know what to do," he said, his voice trembling. "You've got to help me, Hermione."

She sighed. "Trouble comes to us all, and if you don't share it then you don't give the one who cares for you the chance to care enough."

He straightened up and took her face between his hands. "Just tell me what you want. Whatever you want, I'll do."

She smiled, her heart aching...she felt like she was being torn in five directions at once. On one hand she was intensely happy, on the other hand she was nervous about what it meant. On one hand she felt safe here with him, on the other hand it seemed like the entire world was trying to tear them away from each other. But at that instant, she was only sure of one thing. "I just want you," she whispered, tracing one fingernail down his cheek. "I want you to make love to me...like we're the only two people in the world."

"Aren't we?" he whispered back. Hermione felt herself falling forward into his eyes as he leaned towards her and further conversation became irrelevant; she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he stood up, carrying her with him back to the bed.

**********

"Now, take it easy..."

"I can walk down stairs, George, thanks ever so much!" Laura slapped his hand away as he tried to help her down the porch stairs into the yard. "I'm fine, they fixed me right up!"

"The doctor said that you should rest," Justin scolded, following anxiously behind them.

"Great honk, I'm not planning to swim the Channel, I just want to go out to the observatory which I've done every single night of my adult life. At times like this it's even more important for us to be in touch with what the heavens are telling us." Her nervous escorts hovering around her, Laura walked briskly across the wide backyard to the gazebo...but this was no ordinary gazebo. It was larger than many houses, a spectacularly carved two-story octagon twenty meters across and open to the air. They used the second story as an observatory; astronomy was a particular interest of Laura's and of Cho's as well. Laura trotted up the circular wrought-iron staircase to the upper floor, eliciting concerned mutterings from George.

"Say, where's Hermione?" she asked, stepping out onto the observation balcony. "She was pretty upset when she left the hospital."

"I think she's up in her room," George said. "I heard her run up to the gallery when she got back. I went out for some groceries a bit after that. I haven't seen Harry since he left...somehow I don't expect he'll be back tonight. He told me we'd be safe here but I wonder."

Laura shook her head. "He must be out of his head. The attack in Hogsmeade, then his friends at I.D., then the bombing..." She trailed off, plucking her astronomy journal out of its cubbyhole.

"What are we looking at tonight, Chant?" Justin asked, looking skyward as Laura bent to her telescopes.

"Well, the moon is awfully bright so we won't be seeing much in that part of the sky. I thought I'd try and..." She broke off, straightening up and cocking her head. "Do you hear something?"

"Hear what?"

"I don't know...I just thought I heard something." She started to turn back to the scopes when the sound came again; this time they all heard it.

"What the devil is that?" Justin murmured. They stood there listening. "Sounds like..."

"A kind of moaning...there it is again! Is that an animal? Where's it coming from?"

"It's coming from the house," George said darkly. They all turned to stare at Bailicroft's blank windows. "It sounds like someone's hurt." They strained to listen in the darkness. Laura smiled slowly.

"Um, no, George. I don't think they're hurt in the sense that you mean." As if to drive home the point, the low, quiet sound was suddenly punctuated by a brief cry that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was...a woman in the midst of fulfilling a basic human drive, and enjoying it intensely. Justin's mouth dropped open.

"Blimey! That's coming from Harry's room! Look, the windows are open!"

"Is he up there?"

"If he is, it doesn't sound like he's alone. I can't believe he'd have someone up there at a time like this," Justin said, shaking his head and tsk-ing disapprovingly. "He should be out plotting revenge and massing the troops, not up in his room shagging some floozy he picked up!"

"Oh Justin, Harry's not one to shag floozies," Laura said. "But it is very odd."

George made for the stairs. "Let's go up and burst in unexpectedly and claim we didn't know he was there!"

Laura grabbed his arm. "Oh no you don't, you incorrigible hooligan. It's none of our business."

"So why are we standing here listening?" Justin muttered.

"Because we're terrible, horrible people and we're hopelessly nosy," Laura said, making no move to excuse herself. As if on cue, the utterings of the unnamed woman in Harry's room suddenly intensified, and as the three eavesdroppers winced, she cried out his name. Laura, Justin and George froze, their mouths hanging open in astonishment, for there was no mistaking the voice of their roommate.

"Ohh, my brain is leaking out my ears," Justin moaned, clapping his hands to the sides of his head.

"If I didn't know better I'd say that was Hermione," George said.

"Oh, sod knowing better, that was Hermione," Laura said.

Justin turned to his two roommates. "I think they're having sex!" he exclaimed. George just laughed as Laura shook her head at Justin's naivete.

"It must be nice to live in your world, Justin," she said. "Listen to them, of course they're having sex! And to think she just got through telling me they'd never shagged."

"I don't think they have," George said, crossing his arms. "I think this must be the first time."

"Well then this is huge!" Laura exclaimed. "This is monumentally important!" Before she could stop him George turned and bolted down the stairs.

"It was inevitable," Justin said. "I just knew they couldn't stay platonic forever."

"Oh, you just knew, is that it? I didn't think they'd ever cross that line. I mean really, after all this time?" All at once, George appeared on the other side of the railing, floating in midair. Laura and Justin jumped back as he held out two brooms in one hand.

"C'mon, let's go peek!" he said, grinning.

"That's sick!" Justin cried.

Laura had her hands on her hips. "George, I am shocked. I am truly dismayed and disappointed." He cocked an eyebrow. "That I didn't think of it first," she finished, grabbing her broom and jumping over the railing. Justin rolled his eyes heavenward and took up his own broom with a resigned expression.

They flew slowly up the side of the north tower to where the glass ceiling over the Cloister met the stone wall, sidling right up and peering over the edge. Directly below them, illuminated in a slanting beam of moonlight, was Harry's bed. Their two roommates were lying spooned snugly together, her back to his chest, the dark green sheets covering them to the waist. She was smiling with her eyes closed; Harry was kissing her fingers. He wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his head behind hers on the pillows and they both seemed to relax and begin to drift off to sleep.

"We shouldn't be watching this," Justin whispered.

"But it's so sweet..." Laura said, smiling.

"I need a shower."

"We're awful people, just awful. We're spying on our friends in what looks like a moment of deep intimacy and contentment."

"Let's get out of here," Laura whispered, turning her broom away from the window. "We'll let them be for now...we can have our fun in the morning."

**********

Hermione could feel the daylight shining on her face, the sun's rays turning the insides of her eyelids red as she lay there awake with her eyes closed. She could feel that the bed was empty next to her, but she could also hear Harry moving about in the room so she didn't wonder what had become of him...or worry that he'd decided to leave after all. She opened her eyes just a slit, keeping the rest of her body relaxed as if she were still asleep. Harry was standing by the window pulling clothes out of his dresser. She just watched, enjoying the view as he drew on a pair of bicycle shorts and a t-shirt. Harry wasn't a large man, but at some point since they'd moved out of their little flat in Shepherd's Bush he had gone from just plain skinny to slender and well-toned. After the demonstration of physical prowess he'd been forced to give in Hogsmeade she wasn't surprised.

He sat on the edge of the bed and bent over his feet, probably tying his shoelaces. When he finished, he turned around and leaned over her; she shut her eyes quickly. He reached out and ran a finger down her neck. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Bon giorno, principessa," he whispered.

"Morning," she said. "You're up early."

"I'm going running, do you want to come?"

"Um, clearly you've mistaken me for someone in good shape."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Well, you seemed in pretty good shape last night."

She laughed, turning on her side and propping her head up on one elbow. "You go ahead. I'll just languish here in bed like Cleopatra." He said nothing for a few moments, just looked at her with the oddest expression on his face. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Just..." He trailed off.

"Just what?"

"You're...so beautiful," he said softly, smiling. Hermione felt herself go all warm and slushy...she tried to smile back but all she could manage was what probably looked like a ridiculously dreamy expression. It's amazing, she thought. Who could have guessed, twenty-four hours ago, that three words from him could make me collapse into a big quivering pile of shivery goo.

"You're not so bad yourself," she managed. He leaned forward and kissed her, then got up off the bed. She reached up and grasped his arm. "Harry...we do have a lot to talk about."

He sobered. "I know."

"We'll think of a way to deal with Allegra and anything else that happens...just please don't do anything ill-advised."

"Such as leaving on a solo crusade? I won't." But he didn't quite meet her eyes when he said this. She pretended not to notice.

"Good. Go take your run."

"See you at breakfast." He trotted out of the room.

Hermione sat up, pulling the sheets up around her like a squaw, and heaved a mighty sigh. She stretched and slid off the bed, enjoying the feeling of the morning sun warm on her bare skin. She stood up and let the sheet fall away, picking up Harry's robe again and wrapping it around herself. She went to the window that looked out onto the backyard; it was a gorgeous, picture-perfect May morning. Light breeze, clear blue sky...she opened the window and stuck her head out, inhaling the scent of the lilac trees that grew all around the base of the north wing.

She turned and began moving about the room, collecting her scattered clothing, smiling as she thought back to how each piece had been shed. She stopped, clutching her jeans and bra to her chest, a wave of unreality washing over her. The full awareness of what had transpired last night hadn't really sunk in until now, and now that it was doing so she began to think of all the ways it would change her life. She looked around the room as if searching for a touchstone...her eyes happened upon the top of Harry's dresser. She dropped her clothes and walked over to it, reaching out to pick up the framed photo there. It was a picture of herself, Harry and Ron on the lawn at Hogwarts during the 150th Anniversary of Hogwarts celebration that had been held in the spring of their sixth year...just weeks before Ron had died. In the photo Hermione was in the middle, one arm through Ron's and the other through Harry's. All three of them were smiling and laughing, nudging each other and mugging for the Colin's camera. She stared down at the image of Ron's face, a lump rising in her throat. She closed her eyes and in an instant she saw it all again...

She and Harry had just come back to the castle from dueling practice on the lawn and they'd expected to find Ron waiting for them in the common room, but he hadn't been there. He hadn't been in the dormitory...finally Harry had gotten out the Marauder's Map and they'd seen that he wasn't in the castle. They'd been about to go alert McGonagall when she saw it. A small folded note on Harry's bed, with the names "Potter and Granger" in script on the front. He'd opened it with shaking hands...inside were only the words "You will find what's left of him in the glen past the forbidden forest."

She remembered how her blood had turned to ice and how pale Harry had looked as they ran to the tower and took off to find him, no thought entering their minds of any rules they were breaking. The trip on Harry's broom was a blur...all she could do was hold tight to his waist with her face pressed into his back, silently praying that Ron was all right. They'd landed in the glen...the moon was so bright it had almost looked like daytime. Harry had scarcely bothered to land the broom before jumping off, calling Ron's name in a voice choked with tears, already aware of what had happened. She had stumbled about, a horrible pain ripping through her stomach, remembering how it had felt to hold him just earlier that same day. She'd heard Harry scream, a wrenching, heartbroken sound. She'd run to see for herself but he had met her partway, grabbing her and holding her fast...how she had struggled against him and tried to get past him to see, she had to see what had been done to him. Harry had been sobbing, clutching her with a strength not his own to prevent her from getting by him and seeing, and she'd finally given up fighting him. The rest of the night was a blur. She remembered spending most of it sitting on the grass as people had come after them, then people came to take his body away. She'd never even seen it, and for that she was eternally grateful. She could remember Ginny crying and Professor McGonagall trying to comfort her, she could remember people trying to talk to her and to Harry and both of them just sitting there staring into space. Ron's brothers had shown up one at a time...she vaguely remembered Fred lifting her bodily off the grass and carrying her away.

She put the picture down and looked away, one hand to her mouth. What if you were still with us, Ron? she thought. Would we still be together, you and I? The thought was both wonderful and terrible. She knew in her heart that if Ron had lived, she would still feel about Harry as she did now, and yet Ron had meant so much to her. A very clear picture came to her mind, a picture of herself sitting at the kitchen table at Bailicroft with Ron on one side of her and Harry on the other, loving one but unable to stop herself from falling for the other. She could see herself torn in two, she could see it making them turn against each other and transforming their friendship into hatred. She pressed her hands to her eyes to shut out this disturbing image. Maybe it's a good thing he's gone, her mind whispered...Hermione cried out loud and shook her head as if to banish that terrible thought, even though she knew that it could never really be banished.