Sweet Resolve

It takes so much out of me to pretend

Tell me now, tell me how to make amends.

~~~

Two weeks had passed without a single foray into the Secrets of the Dark. Two weeks with no explorations into the impossible capabilities of one Harry Potter. In those two weeks, the residue of Dark Magic declined dramatically in Hogwarts, but with its departure came a new shroud of gloom. With Christmas Break only a week away, many students were suddenly feeling wary of going home, leaving the sanctity of Hogwarts. Tension was slowly building up, and was revealed by drooping shoulders and haunted looks. But whereas most of the school experienced such tension with frantic energy (even the Slytherins, though their energy stemmed from taunting the other students into fear), the Gryffindor house had succumbed to a suffocating silence, a somber dance of reticence that wove in and out of each Gryffindor's mind.

And rightfully so...

Because while other students tiptoed around the fear of Death Eater attacks and wild rampages in the night, the lion-hearted kids had shifted their sights to a more catastrophic dread. There were no more hateful remarks towards Ron, or angry glares shot at Harry, because it was pointless to do so any longer. Ron had by now fully encased himself with the Slytherin mentality, only seen in Gryffindor tower at night before going to bed, and Harry had become (if possible) even more withdrawn and aloof from his classmates. He materialized only in the library, the dorm room, or the kitchens when not in class. And when he did come across anyone, a stone wall of indifference blockaded him from any kind of remark. It appeared that the resident Savior was lost somewhere inside the shell of a teenage boy.

Two great leaders, great wizards, great companions to the Gryffindors and everyone, had been stolen away. And judging by their behaviors, neither had the resolve or even the desire to come back.

~~~

Since all of Draco and Harry's meetings had been postponed until further notice, Draco had no other choice but to relapse into the lifestyles of the Slytherin Prince. This included, but was not limited to, sitting in the most desired seat in the common room (no matter who was there before him), having his every demand tended to by some lowly third year, and having a dutiful 7th year finish up any homework Draco felt was unworthy of his time.

Thus, on that cold Monday evening. Draco was reclining in the deep feathery cushions of the plush armchair in the common room, a book lying open in his lap while he napped by the fire. A steaming cup of hot chocolate on the adjacent table was waiting patiently for its proclaimed owner to awake, so it could tantalize the taste buds of the handsome blonde. A stack of books and papers were placed neatly beside his drink.

Draco was unceremoniously startled out of slumber by a sudden lack of warmth. He cracked an eyelid and saw Blaise Zabini standing in front of the fire, thus blocking Draco from it. Blaise was at the moment also leafing through the book that had once rested in Draco's lap. That annoying Weasel was leaning against the wall to the left, a calculating look of disdain written across his foolish face. Draco was inwardly surprised to see that the Weasel was not outright glaring at him any longer, but instead was watching him with deep probing eyes instead. Draco gracefully lifted his head from his arms and cracked a sneer at Zabini.

"You don't want to hurt yourself with that, Zabini. Careful now, or you might actually learn something."

Zabini Snapped the book shut, and glowered down at Draco. Horribly weak impression of Snape. You'll have to do better than that to intimidate me.

"I'm surprised you aren't with Potter tonight. Don't you have some... unfinished business with him?" Zabini stared knowingly into Draco's cold eyes, trying to read into the thoughts and actions of his fellow Slytherin. Little did he realize how much thought Draco spent on his partner these days, especially since they weren't working together as much, let alone talking. Draco had to admit he missed something there.

"My business with Potter is just that. My business. It really is appalling to see you try so hard to weasel your way into my life, Zabini." Ron scowled at the implications of Draco's chosen vocabulary, but said nothing. He merely continued to stare. What in Merlin's name is that boy looking for? Draco wondered.

Blaise tossed the book back into Draco's lap, a little too roughly, and snapped back.

"Like I want anything to do with your life! Pathetic little Malfoy thinks he can win over everyone does he? Think with a simple act you can march right up and take what everyone else works for! Is that --"

As swift as the wind, Draco had pulled his wand out and grabbed Zabini by the collar, shoving him dangerously close to the fire, whose flames danced with joyful anticipation to burn through flesh.

"Watch. Your. Tongue. Or else you'll be all ablaze." No one in the common room, not even Ron, dared or cared to hold Draco back. "I don't want anything you are working for, stupid idiot. I AM a Malfoy, and I have standards to live by." Blaise just eeped, his throat unable to conjure anything more coherent.

Draco sneered into those scared little eyes, leaned in, and whispered so only Blaise could hear, "Are you this scared in front of Vo... the Dark Lord? What a fucking disgrace." Furious astonishment burned through Blaise's eyes, and he began to struggle against Draco, who nonchalantly released his grasp of the sniveling idiot. Unwilling to resign all control of the situation, Draco still held his wand up to the boy's throat.

"I have better things to do than get wrapped up with the likes of you or," Draco tossed a glance at Ron, "Your kind. Get your fucking priorities straight. Screwing around with a Gryffindor... At least I made the choice of going for the great one. You got the lowly sidekick. Hmmm much like yourself actually."

Draco picked up his book and headed for the door.

"Priorities? If anything, MALFOY, I got Weasley here to straighten out his own priorities! More than I can say for you and Potter! What is it? Are you just biding your time because he is fucking great in bed??"

Draco wheeled around, raised his wand and in the next instant, Blaise's robe had caught on fire. "Biding my time?? At least it's mine to deal with." Draco failed to comment on the jab about his and Potter's relationship. He would later just surmise that those words hadn't even registered at the time. He strode over to Ron, who hadn't spoken a word since the beginning of the altercation, and even now was just watching in stifled amusement as Blaise tried to stomp his clothes free of flames.

"Since when do you enjoy watching the misery of others?"

"Well, I don't think I could be an honorary Slytherin otherwise. Right, ferret face?" Draco's eyebrow arched and shot forth a sneer across his lips.

"You are hardly a Slytherin, Weasley. You have a lot to learn about what it actually means to be one. For one thing, a Slytherin doesn't abandon his own House." Ron wasn't prepared for such a statement, and stepped back in vehement shock, stumbling over a smoking Blaise and falling flat on his ass.

"And a Slytherin takes much pride in his appearance and reputation. But I suppose there's not much you can do, considering you come from the lowest of the low. Get comfortable on the ground, both of you. It's where you belong." Draco smirked one last time, allowing a chuckle to arise from within his cold exterior, and strode out.

Ron's face camouflaged into the fire, a spitting image of the burning red that burst from behind him. Blaise just groaned from beneath him.

~~~

Finding relative ease and silence in the library, Draco began to analyze the knowledge his book had to offer. He had acquired the habit of stroking his mother's amulet, leaving it with a soft white glow as a result of his warm hands.

If he closed his eyes, Draco swore this rock was transporting him away from all the repulsive chaos that ruled his existence, elevating him high above the castle, the forest, everything, pushing him away from pain and confusion, granting him with a rapid gust of tranquility. Draco wondered not for the first time what the purpose of this rock was, to push him away from reality? Or vice versa? Why had his mother sent it...?

Eventually, his thoughts fell back on Blaise. A hailstorm of questions surrounding that boy attacked Draco's mind. He still remembered the weakened image of the novice Death Eater as he returned from the late-night rendezvous with his fellow Dark allies. Gaunt, broken, pale. And Blind. Blind to the horrors he had yet to face. Draco wondered if he ought to try and pull Blaise out, before he was sucked in completely, and who knows, even destroying the Weasel's life as well.

But that would be a horribly Gryffindor type thing to do, and in the end will it even matter? A content smile glided through his lips, and a warm sense of pride wrapped his bones in knowing that Harry hadn't rid him of his Slytherin tendencies as of yet. The fact that he even wondered about helping Blaise should have triggered a warning sign, but Draco was in too good a mood envisioning the two idiots flat on their asses.

Slowly a cloud of pressure was building up from behind him, encroaching on his personal space. When it became too much to bear, too hard to just ignore or avoid, Draco dropped his amulet and stood to turn around but was stopped by a hand that forced him back in his seat. A firm but distinctly female hand.

"This won't take long, Malfoy."

"You know what else won't take long? Extricating you of that mudblood hand. Remove it now." Hermione immediately drew her hand away, but whether it was from fear of his threat or disgust of having touched him, she was not sure. She rounded the table and sat opposite a scowling Draco.

"You are the only one who can talk to Harry."

"Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor for stellar observation skills. He is my partner, I HAVE to talk to him." Draco had wondered time and time again when he would be approached, and it did strike him as odd that it took so long for Granger to come.

"Quit it, Malfoy. Are you influencing him? Whatever he was going through before seems to have amplified, and since you are the only one I ever see him with, I figured you had a hand in this."

"Trust me, Granger, Potter needs no influencing. In fact, I doubt he can be. He is a stubborn excuse of a wizard, who is relishing the fact that you all have stopped annoying the hell out of him."

Something akin to remorse crossed the girl's eyes, but she steeled them down again. "Has he said that?"

"Please, as if I care to discuss the boy's personal issues. I actually tend to do my work, something I assumed you would appreciate." Hermione rolled her eyes, and returned them to stare into Malfoy, much like Weasley had been doing earlier. Something was definitely not right. "I know I'm stunning, but it's rude to stare."

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself, Malfoy." She still kept her gaze fixated on his own. A tad unsettling, really. "You think you have everyone wrapped around your little finger. I'm just letting you know, Malfoy, just because Harry has deemed you worthy of his company, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't watching. You won't get away with it."

To say Draco was confused would be an understatement. First Blaise accuses him of wanting to take his place as a Death Eater, now this mousy little woman thinks he is weaving a web of deception (which wasn't unlikely really) to make Potter and everyone else succumb to his demands. What was suddenly wrong with these people, though?

Of course, it would be wrong to let anyone, a mudblood no less, know he was encircled with confusion.

"Excuse me, but seeing as I am a Malfoy, it's understood that I will get anything and get away with anything I choose."

Granger was inflating like a furious lion, what with her bushy mane of hair flailing about, but then, oddly she sank nobly into her seat. A hint of a smirk crept up, a look Draco felt suited her too well, and decided someone with her brains should never have the opportunity to smirk again.

Her eyes lowered into her lap, darting back and forth as she was apparently assessing the invisible parts of a puzzle right in front of her. Suddenly her eyes snapped back into position, drilling holes into Draco's skull.

"I guess that leaves one question then... anyway I meant what I said. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on you." In a rapid movement, Granger was standing across from Draco, and eyeing his reading material. "Did that Magical Creatures project of yours inspire this? Hagrid will be so pleased to find that out..." She let a finger trace the lettering on the book, before Draco slid the book away. "The Essence of Wizardry: Auras and Souls, huh? Why so intrigued Malfoy?"

"There's a gripping section about animal souls and I've been trying to determine what filthy foul creature you most adhere to. Mouse? Rat? Beaver?" The smirk on her face fizzled into a tight line.

"It can't be your wit that makes you bearable enough for Harry to be around, can it?" And she stormed off.

Draco just looked up at the ceiling of the library, wishing he could stare at the sky above, and disappear. For all purposes, he hoped Annoy-the-Hell-Out-of-Draco Day had come to an end.

~~~

Although there were only two sessions of DADA left before winter break began, Professor Zalameen had assured her class that they would have covered every aspect of the magic-enforcing spell before they left. Draco halfheartedly paid attention as she summarized the various aspects they already studied.

"You know how to collect your energy into one unit. Well most of you, anyway. Don't worry Pansy we're not all meant for this type of magic...." Draco laughed at the indignant scowl that graced Pansy's face.

"...how to prepare yourself to receive the energy.... very important..." Draco yawned. He couldn't recall what else was left, ad he believed they covered all the bases, and noticed that Harry was zoning out as well. Although that's how he always looks. Hmm maybe he' just a walking Zombie, and all this time we didn't know Voldemort already did kill him. Draco let his mind wander to some very unlikely but amusing ways in which the dark lord had done away with Potter and then sent him back from the dead.

"... and creating a protective shield with whatever energy left... it won't last for long, but this type of spell isn't made to last long anyway, so maybe if Draco would perk up and listen we could carry on to the last part."

Draco suddenly was aware of stifled chuckling as an elbow jabbed into his side. "Damn you Potter, what do you want??"

"Zalameen is wondering if you wouldn't mind listening now that she is done reviewing." His tone was so flat, but Draco could see the amusement dancing around in his eyes. He flushed at the thought that he could read Harry's eyes so well and then at the thought that the professor had probably ridiculed him.

"Of course, you may proceed, Professor." No need for a Malfoy to lose composure. Zalameen just smiled and turned to her notes.

"Today we are focusing on making your magic adaptable to someone else's, so that when you send it, it won't react badly. Now you might say, how could we do this I we don't know the qualities of the receiver's magic?" She smiled at Hermione who was slowly putting down her raised hand. "Well, you needn't make your magic identical to theirs, all that needs to be done is subduing the nuances that are only yours, thus making your magic more generic.

"You should already know how to do this, as we read and studied it ages ago. But you can keep your books at hand and review it as you practice it. You should feel your insides swimming in a warm mushy pool."

Before the students could begin the mutation of their energy, Draco aristocratically raised his hand with a question.

"What would happen if you didn't mutate your energy, but instead sent your own brand into someone else?" Everyone's eyes turned tot he professor with unbridled curiosity. Some expected to hear 'Fireworks!" (Like Seamus). Some expected "Death!" (All the Slytherins). Some even expected to hear "You could fall in love!" (Lavender and Parvati, hopeless romatics).

"Ahhh I was hoping you would ask. When you adapt your magic, it merely mixes with the others. However, if you don't, there is the GREAT possibility that your forces will bind together. This results in not only binding the raw power, but also magical auras, magical souls. Because you haven't erased your personality from it, the receiver has no choice but to fuse his or her magical being with yours. This can be extremely devastating if not intentional. Even if it is intentional, the likelihood of either person surviving is next to none.

"Like I said at the beginning of the year, this is a new spell. It combines defensive and offensive tactics, which make it unstable if done incorrectly. Daring to take it that one step further is a risk I doubt is worth it." Her eyes fell upon Harry as she said this last sentence, clearly aware of his record of risk taking.

Everyone else's eyes also fell upon Harry, who just rolled his eyes, and cracked open his book, disregarding their questioning looks. He had no use for such a spell, anyway.

Draco on the other hand, had been taking full notes on what the professor had said. He was reminded of something he read earlier, and decided he would have a little experiment and a lot of research to do over break.

~~~

Harry refused to go to the Great Hall to eat anymore. He couldn't stand the sight of sorrow and trepidation trailing every step, drowning every sound, falling from every child's eye. Not only that, but a stark overwhelming nausea threatened to humiliate him every time he saw Ron and that Zabini character laughing together. The comfort level that the Gryffindor red-head had attained with his Slytherin counterpart scared Harry, but not as much as the suspicious calculating gaze that had overtaken his once laughing eyes. He wondered how the Weasleys were all handling this, especially Ginny. But he didn't wonder enough to actually find out. Harry hated to admit it, but he had become accustomed to the distance that surrounded him, a comforting blanket of protection from their lives just as much as he was protecting them from his own life.

So now Harry was leaving the kitchens and heading for the library. He had not been able to bring himself to confront the mysteries that resided in him concerning the Dark spells he had been practicing against. Instead, he had begun a deep intensive study of two subjects, one being the possible interpretations of his dream (in which he was starting to make progress) and the other being a quest to understand his latent powers. He had help in the latter subject from Snape. Well, help was not exactly the right word. More like efforts were being made to discover the truth.

They still met three times a week, occasionally strengthening his occlumency skills. Most of their time was spent in silence though, with Harry either doing his homework or scouring books, while Snape did the same. Little had been uncovered, but both were relying on the idea that it was connected to his link with Voldemort, and since this was a phenomenon unlike any other, there were hardly any books explaining the subject matter. Little was known of how something as simple as a lightening bolt scar could combine and awaken secret powers. But it had to be part of the reason...

Before turning a corner to reach the corridor of the library, Harry heard approaching footsteps, and some unknown urge inside of him forced him to hide behind a statue until they left. This is silly, those are definitely students' voices, what's to be scared of? But as the two people rounded the corner, heading towards the Slytherin dorms, Harry had to rein in his anger, and food. Ron and Zabini were talking about the most recent attack on a muggle town, which apparently housed a large Wizard population as well.

"... obvious that He wants to convert whatever they were researching to his own means. I heard there was apparently a muggle weapons factory there. This is too rich, man! Dumbledore doesn't stand a chance does he?" Harry's eyes widened in horror as Ron responded with as much gusto.

"Yeah no way! Man my father would kill for having access to a muggle factory. Well, the ministry never had the brains for such an endeavor did they? That fuckwit Fudge even knows the Dark Lord is back, but he is too much of a chicken to acquiesce to any of Dumbledore's demands. Ha, just waiting until the inevitable I guess..."

"It's overwhelming really. To think that after all this time, He could finally reach his goal... well unless Potter has anything to do with it. But then again we shouldn't forget...." They had just walked out of earshot, and Harry was inclined to chase after them to find out that last bit, but he knew better than to go face to face with them. There was no telling how much his anger could take hold and blow up something, or someone. Heheh chunks of Zabini... that'd be nice...

Harry figured Dumbledore must already know about the weapons base, and the possible tactics Voldemort was considering, if these two numbskulls knew, so he just ran to the library in a mad rush, trying to release his fury by exhaustion.

And thus crashed into a departing Draco, tumbling to the ground.

"This isn't the first time you've bowed down to me, Potter. Are you finally relinquishing your authority?" Draco just smirked and held out a hand to Harry, who obligingly accepted. The touch of silky smooth skin against his rough ones made Harry inadvertently blush, but it was hidden by the flushed look he had from running in anger.

"Hardly." It was a short snappy retort, catching Draco off guard. Potter looked... angry. Almost as angry as when he had blown up at Malfoy in the library, a day which seemed years ago.

"Something eating away at your dismal existence, Harry?" Harry perked up at the sound of his own name. It wasn't the first time Draco had used it, but the way it rolled off his tongue this time, cloaked with concern.

"No. I... just heard an irritating conversation which made me want to rip the life out of someone and toss the carcass into the lake, flavored for the giant squid's enjoyment." This single remark seemed to release some of the tension in his furrowed eyebrows, especially when Draco began to laugh.

"That's a lovely image. Anyone in particular?"

"Wow Malfoy, I'm surprised you didn't realize it was you I was imagining." Ahh that Gryffindor wit and stupidity had returned, even if guarded by the unrelenting monotone.

"Ever the predictable Gryffindor comment..." Draco was about to leave, when he turned back to Harry, and asked, "Do you plan on ever resuming our... study sessions Potter?" Knowing full well Harry would know what he was alluding to.

"Right... yeah, yeah I do. Not until after break though. The day we return. I've got some stuff to research, so I've been preoccupied."

"I'd say you have. All you do is eat sleep and study. It's rather disconcerting. I heard Granger was scared you might even overtake her as top student. Heaven forbid."

"I have more important matters to deal with." Harry suddenly looked sullen, and Draco wondered how much was weighing down on Harry that he never could enjoy just the simple treasures of youth. But as much as Harry wanted to do everything alone, Draco just wouldn't allow it. The boy wouldn't survive that way.

"I have some research of my own to tend to, but I might be willing to be charitable and aid you in your own work. Say Friday night?" Secretly his heart started to beat rather quickly. It had been weeks since they truly spent any time together, working or not, and Draco longed for the interaction. He had searched and searched for the right word to explain his draw to Harry, and unfortunately had to settle on the silliest word of all: it was magical.

He knew he needed this raven-haired wizard in his life. He was the only link to the freedom Draco sought, and it pained him to think he was using the poor kid, but the little voice in his head hinted that there could be more to it than that. There was an intense magic that surrounded them when they worked, when they talked. Draco had begun to realize how powerful and yet how vulnerable this boy was. Fascinating.

Harry was surprised that after weeks of being ignored, Draco still wanted to help him. He had been treating Draco the same way he was treating everyone else, aside from this conversation, hoping the Slytherin would understand that Harry Potter stood alone. But his column of defiance was no match for Draco, who could easily find the crack in his defense and make him crumble.

So Harry agreed to it, and watched Draco depart, hoping against all fates that his feelings would not grow and he could protect yet another vital part of his life.

~~~

Harry had only been in the library for twenty minutes, unable to focus on anything but the walking enigma that was Draco. Of course, he was defying his father, even if only secretly right now. But Harry had always felt that the boy only was out to serve himself. The fact that he was brutally aware and willingly concerned about Harry's business seemed to speak otherwise. Maybe Draco did have more in him than just the heart of a conniving Malfoy, and Harry wasn't sure if this was ultimately a good or bad thing.

At least he wouldn't feel as guilty about harboring certain feelings for the stunning young man.

But then, those feelings would only get stronger, and that would risk both his footing against Voldemort, and Draco's life as well. Not that he wasn't already jeopardizing himself by squashing Lucius' beliefs.

Ugh not the time to think about this Harry, FOCUS! FOCUS!

"Screech!"

"Ahhhh, dear God what was that! Oh... Hedwig, where the hell did you come from??" Harry had been so distracted by forcing himself to concentrate that he wasn't aware of the owl's presence until she hooted directly in his face, almost making him swallow his own heart.

Now the beautiful snowy owl hooted softly, trying to calm the boys down, and reassure him that nothing was wrong. Attached to her leg was a letter, and when Harry had still not noticed it, she dangled it regally in front of him, demanding it to be removed from her elegant self. He chuckled at the sight of such a prim owl, and loved her for it. Hedwig was one of the constants in his life, and he would never dream of pulling himself away from her like he did with all the rest.

"Hey, go up to my room, I have some treats on my dresser especially for you, Heddy." She perched herself on his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately, letting him revel in the softness of her feathers, and then she took flight.

I wonder who's writing me a letter, please don't be the Weasleys. I didn't have to turn them down for Christmas because I'm sure Ginny and Ron made it very clear how I want to be alone.

Harry was surprised to see the unfamiliar script actually belonged to Remus Lupin, the last surviving Marauder (Wormtail was already dead in his eyes). Harry grasped the letter tightly for a second as he pulled out his composure from whatever rock it was hiding beneath. Tentatively he opened the envelope, chiding himself for not writing to the man himself at least once this entire semester, and began to read.

Dear Harry,

Please forgive me for not writing in so long. I guess I always hoped to catch you at school during one meeting or another... The order meetings, no doubt. And he really shouldn't be apologizing, Harry felt extremely guilty all of a sudden.

Dumbledore informed us you had pulled out of the Order, and perhaps this is for the best. You needn't occupy yourself with events that won't aid you at all. Remus was always so understanding, and Harry missed him.

So how are you doing? I hear you've pulled away from people in general, and if that's what you needed to do to cope with things, than I will support you unwaveringly. Just remember, dear boy, your friends are not going to desert you, especially not in your time of need. If you need anything, at all, please contact me. You might be surprised how much others could need you too.

Suddenly it hit Harry, selfish as he was, that he wasn't the only one truly affected by Sirius's loss. Of course he knew Remus suffered, but at this moment he never thought Remus could actually need him, not as Harry Potter, boy wonder, but just as Harry. "Oh god, I feel horrible!" But he continued to read.

I was in the castle this morning, meeting with Dumbledore, who informed me you would probably not want to see me (Not sure how I feel about that, but I adhered to his instructions). So instead I've asked Hedwig to send this to you. She seems thrilled to get to see you. I think you ought to visit her more.

Anyway, I'll be leaving in an hour, so take care. I won't be around for a while, have some work to do in Romania. Please reply back, however, whenever you can. I really want to know how you have been. Harry saw spots on the parchment as if Remus had been tapping the quill, debating to write something or not. Apparently he dared to go for it.

This might seem... inappropriate to you, or insensitive, but that is hardly what my intentions are. Just hear me out. If this war ends... anytime soon... or well even if it doesn't, you have to know that I would take you into my home in an instant. I don't dare act as a replacement to your parents, or your godfather (Harry saw he hadn't once said his name, this worried him.) but you should know your family isn't all gone yet. You are the closest and dearest thing I've had to a nephew, and you should know that.

Take care Harry, love,

Moony

Harry was already on the verge of crying his fragile heart out, and then Remus had to sign it by the nickname his friends had dubbed him, a sign of their undying friendship and loyalty (again, Harry refused to acknowledge Wormtail). All of a sudden, all Harry wanted, all he needed at that moment in order to keep his sanity in tact, was to talk to Moony, at least see him.

Bolting from his desk in a flash that would do his lightening scar proud, Harry ran as fast as he could will his legs to move. Taking into account how long it took him to see Hedwig and actually read the letter, he only had about five minutes to spare before his ... his... his Uncle was gone, and who knows, maybe forever. An ache was growing, festering inside his guts, his lungs, making it harder to breathe. But he had to, he had to breathe, he needed to make it and see Remus off, he needed him to know that no matter what his actions might scream, Harry needed him too!

A burning in his legs began to spread throughout his entire body, a pain worse than anything Voldemort could have ever sent his way, because this burning aching feeling that was ripping every last shred of longing in him represented his loss. And Harry refused to lose anymore! He would not let more people be taken away from him, he would not let that Bastard get away with or be the cause of anything else! No, Remus would not leave without knowing Harry really cared.

It was different with his friends in school, because they weren't walking, or fighting in rivers of blood and hate, winds of rancor and arrogance. They were here, and they were safe from the horrors that clamped down on the world around them. He could keep it that way, for the moment at least. But the others, the ones who were on quests, and missions... the ones risking their souls in battle, with the possibility of never returning to long forgotten homes... those were the ones that he ought to remind, even with a single tiny action, that he was not lost, and that they were not lost to him. Especially Remus...

All this rushed through his mind as quickly as he rushed through the castle, begging the fates to reach the entrance before his uncle was gone.

And then Harry could see it. Like a light at the end of the tunnel, so was the door of the Entrance Hall, lit by torches while the entire corridor stood lifeless and dark, and never had Harry felt so driven. He could feel the soles of his shoes tearing apart as he sped down and then slid to a halt to throw open the door.

"REMUS!"

Harry lurched, panting in the air that had refused to enter his lungs just seconds before. A hand reached out and stabilized him, refusing to let go of his shoulder, but Harry didn't even notice. All he saw was a retreating cloaked figure, nearing the Hogwarts gates. Once through those gates, Remus would be free to apparate away from Hogwarts, away from this country, away from the boy who only just realized he needed to older man's comfort.

"REMUS!" he called out again, but it was a windy night, and his words were blown away into the abysmal skies above. The boy crumpled to the ground, beginning to tremble and mumble incoherently and somehow the winds died down enough for his whispering sobs to carry through the night to the intended ears of the werewolf, who in seconds was about to disappear.

Harry was too distraught to feel a pair of hands, the same which had kept him steady before, pull him upright, and turn him to the direction of the distant waving figure, like a willow rocking with the breeze. Opening his eyes to release a marathon of tears, Harry finally saw the figure. He could barely see any of Remus' features, but his eyes glittered in the moonlight and Harry could see a smile parading all around in them.

"Remus..." He whispered one last time. Remus must realize how he felt, how he cared, because unless he was imagining it, he thought he heard the air carry back to him a single sentence, "I know Harry, I know..."

And then kind wizard was gone, and Harry abandoned himself to complete exhaustion, passing out just as the winds picked up again.

~~~

Two figures stood beside the resting figure in the hospital bed.

"He just needs his rest tonight, Poppy. I think he finally came to terms with some things he chose to push away."

"Oh, do you mean he's snapped out of his behavior now?"

Dumbledore sighed at the comment, amazed that so few had truly figured out what Harry's purpose was by drawing away. He looked down upon the child he could so easily imagine as his own grandson. The young lad had grown physically stronger these past few months; he was much heavier than Dumbledore had thought, trying to carry him back from the Entrance Hall, and having to use a charm to lighten him. Whatever the boy was up to was serving him well. Dumbledore had previously been worried that the lack of involvement with anyone on the Light side was a sign that perhaps the boy was losing track, but his show of emotions tonight, as rare as the event would be, was proof enough that he was doing okay.

He turned to Madam Pompfrey, saying, "No, I'm afraid he has plans none of us could ever relate to. Don't underestimate his motives though. And just let him rest for tonight. I have a feeling he will need it a lot in the months to come."

"What, so soon? Is You-Know-Who plotting something for so soon?? How do you know, Headmaster?"

"Don't get frantic, Poppy. It won't do you any good. And no, there is no new information about what Voldemort's plans are. I can almost read it in Harry's eyes though. He won't let this go on much longer, and I feel we wouldn't be able to stop him even if we tried."

What Dumbledore did not reveal, however, was why they could not stop him, because in truth Dumbledore could not even pinpoint the source of power, determination and strength that had been growing inside Harry. Something definitely was lurking behind the amateur countenance of this young wizard, and only time could tell when it would be revealed.