We Are Forever

August twenty-fifth, summer before Harry James Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts

After Harry had escaped to his room following the "Dudley Disaster", he fell into a deep sleep, the first he'd had all summer. A look of chaste innocence rested on his face, tainted only by the wrinkles in his forehead, the cause of more of his bad dreams. He moaned softly as he tried to free his legs from the sheets which tightly tangled themselves around him. The room was cold, but Harry had sweat on his forehead as he tossed and turned from his nightmare. The only form of light was that of Hedwig's amber eyes which pierced through the darkness from her cage, though she was considerate enough to realize that Harry needed sleep, however he could get it, and kept quiet.

Harry hadn't grown much at all over the past couple of years. Ron towered over him, and he only just beat Hermione in height. His hair remained untidy as ever, and black as the color of shadows. He wasn't given much to eat, so he was lean, but with a well defined figure.

Harry was right about this day, however. Something was different about it. Unbeknownst to him, he and Hedwig weren't alone in their room. Something old, from a time far before Harry, or even his parents, lurked in the shadows, waiting. It gazed intently at the boy, and knew the time had come for it to begin the job its creators had summoned it for. One life was to be saved tonight, and one to be healed. And so, it all began. . . .

The apparition began to take form, and Hedwig almost fell off her perch in shock at its sudden presence.

The figure which stood before Harry Potter's bed emanated a soft, glowing blue light.

"Demum, infit." The speaker took no clear shape, was tall, and may have had a human form but the growing light around it made it difficult to tell. The voice was that of an echo, foreign and unearthly. The light grew stronger and stronger until the room seemed to swim in blue hues. Hedwig hooted nervously as the light continued to grow.

Harry's body suddenly calmed, and the sheets untangled themselves from his legs. The light continued to grow, and Harry's body began to slowly rise from his bed, small sparks of blue lightning crashed around the room, some of which struck Hedwig's cage, crashing it open. Frightened to her last wit, she darted from her cage and fled through the window.

"Be happy, and remember the days when you were loved." The voice remained soft, though clear. "You will find what you need before your next school year begins. I am with you always."

The floating body then shook softly as the sleeping boy saw images in his sleep. Images of a woman with green eyes holding him, whispering, "Hello little Harry." The woman's smile was so gentle and smooth. She gently stroked the infants' cheek as she cooed to him, rocking him in her arms. A man with dark untidy hair looked down at them both, tears in his eyes as he said nothing, and wrapped his arms around them. They stayed like that for hours, on the soft green hill, under the strong sun and cool breeze. The sun lingered in the sky a little later that day, as if it could not bear to part with the joy found below in the Potter family.

Images of happiness flashed through Harry's mind, shedding light on the darkness that he had felt binding him for so long. The life that flashed before his eyes was like the enchanting picture books mothers read to their little children before they go to bed, leaving happiness and a strength for tomorrow. They seemed like memories he'd had all along, but there had been a barrier too high for him to climb so that he could access them. Phantasmagoria that he could vaguely remember being present at, though some he didn't recognize at all. Slowly, the images began to fade from his head and the blue light began to dissipate. Harry slowly sank back down to his bed and the sheets covered him loosely. As his head rested on his pillow, a sleepy smile stole across his young face and he nuzzled his face into his pillow. Complete and sound sleep found Harry for the first time since the day Sirius left his side, but not his heart.

****** The Following Morning

I roll the window down, and then begin to breathe in

the darkest country road, and the strong scent of evergreen,

from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Then looking upwards, I strain my eyes and try

to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites,

from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Do they collide? I ask and you smile.

With my feet on the dash, the world doesn't matter.

When you feel embarrassed, then I'll be your pride.

When you need direction, then I'll be the guide.

For all time, for ALL time.

Golden beams of sunlight shined through the window of Harry's room, falling upon his sleepy face, beckoning him into consciousness. Slowly, the boy squinted his eyes, and began to open them. His room was warming up with the waking sun, and so he sluggishly kicked his covers off. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, and rubbed the salt from his eyes. As he opened them, he couldn't help but realize that he didn't feel . . . entirely himself. He felt almost blissful, that is until he saw the note that had been slipped under his door, with threateningly bold letters on it.

It read:

'We've gone shopping for gifts to send Dudley while he's away at school, and to the doctor for Petunia's sprained wrist. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR ROOM, STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN, AND DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!'

Harry felt his stomach turn as he reached for the door, and to his despair it was locked. He felt his happiness fly out of him, begetting another emotion he hadn't felt in a long time: despair. He fell to the ground clutching his hair in his fists, while shouts left his lips seemingly of their own accord. Harry's emotions soared beyond his control, his mind overwhelming his body. He wasn't going to eat the entire day, or be able to use the bathroom, or be able to get a drink to wet his throat which had been feeling dry since he'd woken up.

Sitting on the floor trying to get a hold of himself, Harry let go of his hair, and rubbed his eyes. He took a deep, shaky breath, and looked up. Harry jumped back, eyes wide in shock at what his eyes relayed to his brain.

The door had opened.

It stood ajar and the empty Dursley household was looking him right in the face. A bright smile spread across the boy's face, like Christmas had come early. He didn't even bother considering how the door had opened, and the first thing he did was head straight for the kitchen. He was going to eat good and proper today.

Unfortunately, Dudley and Uncle Vernon had tackled the entire turkey from Dudley's birthday the previous night. However, there was a bit of plum pudding, as well as some soup that had survived the Dursley gauntlet.

After filling his stomach to its limit, Harry played with all the possible things he could do in an unsupervised Dursley household, and decided that watching the telly would suit him best. He turned it on, only to find news that nearly made him lose his breakfast.

Everything faded out as Harry focused in on the TV, and the news that had him on the edge of his seat.

"Fourteen people were killed today in London, all deaths of unknown causes. An additional two were critically injured and are currently hospitalized. Police give their assurance that they will get to the bottom of this tragedy, and that the situation is under control."

The rest of the words faded out of Harry's mind as he ran over the words 'all deaths of unknown causes'. This could only mean one thing. It must have been some kind of attack by Voldemort. But why? Why would he attack a random group of muggles? Something must have been going on in muggle London that Harry didn't know about. Something involving the wizarding world. Was this really how it was going to be? Harry had heard so many stories about how things used to be when Voldemort was in power, but he never really stopped to realize that he would be living during similar times.

Harry fell asleep on the couch as the TV caster's voice droned on in his head. Images began to swim through his mind of things he had never seen before, and soon Harry found himself suddenly in a dream which seemed too genuine even for reality. He was walking down the hallway of a burning building, but he couldn't feel the heat. Smoke billowed through the air and the crackling of roaring fires threatened whomever dared remain inside, but over the fire a voice was heard. Harry pinpointed the direction of the source, and made his way over and through the rubble to where the noise was coming from. It sounded like someone crying, and it was getting very close now. Most of the walls had crumbled, and debris was everywhere, so he had to climb a bit to get through. As Harry neared the source, he noticed the ceiling had been completely demolished. The dark night sky was visible, allowing all the smoke to escape and the air to became more clear. What Harry saw before him shocked him more so than even the attacks he'd seen on television. Harry shook his head and harshly rubbed his jade eyes to make out the scene. There was a body laying on the ground. A body with jet-black, untidy hair, sprawled out and not moving.

It was his body. What was it doing there? But that wasn't half of it, there was someone kneeled over him, crying and holding him, kissing his face. That someone had their arms wrapped around him, hands behind his head, holding him in a most possessive way it could only suggest one thing: they were his lover. Just as the face was about to turn around, a window crashed somewhere in the distance.

Harry woke with a start from his reverie to see that the window that had been broken was an actual window in the Dursley household. The sun had set, and it was quite dark out. Harry reached down for his wand, but he quickly remembered that he left it upstairs under his bed, in his trunk. Calming slightly at the thought that no one could harm him while he remained with his Aunt, Harry stopped panicking. But did the spell still apply when she was away for long periods of time? Still sluggish, Harry looked around, before suddenly. . . .

"WOTCHER, HARRY!" bright, flaming green hair was suddenly in his face and Harry jumped backward with a yelp, falling over the back of the couch.

"Bloody hell, woman, do you ever consider the fact that we MIGHT be being watched? KEEP it down!" the attempted whisper-growl of Mad-Eye Moody rolled through the dark room as Harry realized what was going on. The Advance Guard had come to take him away from Privet Drive! Harry stood up and looked around at all the eyes that were on him. He could see Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance and Kingsley Shacklebolt. All the people who had been to transport him last year were here again, with the exception of Sturgis Podmore and Lupin.

A wide grin of realization spread across Harry's face, and Tonks stepped forward again. "All packed up and ready to go then, Harry?"

Something about the fiery spunk that was ever-present in Tonks made Harry feel more at ease, though he hadn't seen anyone all summer, (besides the Dursleys, with whom he never had any physical contact) and this sudden exposure was shocking to him. Tonks grabbed his arm to pull him upstairs and go pack, but Harry reacted by pulling his arm back, eyes wide at the sudden contact.

"Er, something wrong, Harry?" Tonks looked at Harry with blatant hurt in her eyes, but was aware of the shock in Harry's. Harry could only look away, but Tonks silently understood his response and instead said, "Up to your room, then!" with a smile that she wasn't sure she should give.

The group made haste and they were soon all standing in the fenced backyard of the Dursley's, waiting for the signal to tell them to take off. They would be traveling the same as last year: by broomstick. All thoughts of the dream were erased from Harry's mind as the signal shot off and he soared into the cool night air, drifting high above the earth, leaving all his troubles behind. Everything around him was a deafening black, and he found it hard to restrain himself from leaving the formation. The cool air swept across his body, blowing into his eyes. Tears streaked across his face, nearly freezing from the high altitude's cool air. He closed his eyes and he was back on the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, where he belonged, gliding above the stands, the roar of the crowd in his ears. Flying gave Harry a euphoria like nothing else could, he felt so free in the sky. Out of reach, and free. Nothing mattered when you were flying hundreds of feet above the earth, just the wind in your hair and the broomstick beneath you. The flight was very cold, but Harry loved it nonetheless. A nice long flight on his broomstick was just what he needed to prepare him for the shock he would meet at the end of his journey.

"Harry? HARRY! We're nearly there, wake up, will you? I'm bloody freezing, and Mad-Eye won't let us down until everyone is PAYING ATTENTION!" Tonks gave him a look, and a nudge on the shoulder, and Harry looked down to find not the Burrow, but Grimmauld Place.

Harry's heart gave a hard thud against his chest, and he put his closed hand to it by instinct. He confessed to himself that he had known this is where he would be going, but the idea of going to the Burrow had seemed so much more appealing. The Advance Guard respectfully took notice of Harry's feelings toward Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and waited in the rear as he slowly willed his legs to walk toward the steps leading to the door. He felt seven pairs of eyes glued to his back as he paused to stare up at the bleak, menacing house that haunted his dreams.

'God,' Harry gasped in his mind. 'I shouldn't be here." It was so much harder than he could have ever dreamed. His heart felt like it had just been injected with ice as he looked up at the top-floor window, and could have sworn he saw Sirius' face looking down at him. Harry felt like there was no way he could possibly continue, but let it be known that Harry James Potter was not made a Gryffindor without good reason. He took a deep breath and ignored the stuttering from behind him, which might have been attempts at an encouraging word from the eyes that pierced his back. Knowing that ringing the doorbell would be a mistake, Harry knocked gently at the door, to find it open almost instantaneously. There before him stood a boy with fiery red hair, and a bushy-haired girl squeezed in the doorway next to him. They had, apparently, been waiting right by the door for him to arrive.

"HARRY!" the two shouted in unison and pulled him inside. Hermione gave him a big hug, and Ron, a pat on the back. The guard filed in behind him, but many of them apparated to other errands they had to attend to.

"All right, mate?" Ron asked with an injured smile on his face. He had, after all, received one of Harry's summer letters.

Harry looked away in slight guilt, but was too busy concentrating on not flinching away from all the physical contact. He had never realized that it would be so difficult for him to be here with them, his friends, ones that he loved. He knew it was true, he really did love Hermione and Ron, and now he couldn't even sustain his calm when they went to put their arms around him. Harry could never forget that night, though, hard as he tried. It haunted his soul like a wolf circling its prey in the ensnaring darkness of a forest. That night when Voldemort had entered his body, had used Harry's own mouth to speak words that didn't belong to him. Voldemort had left something behind when he had entered Harry, or so Harry felt. It was like a poison that would never leave his blood, that he must live with for the rest of his life. Rage billowed inside of Harry every time he remembered the man who had killed his parents had possessed his body, had used him for his own means. Harry felt rage that he could not stop Voldemort, and that he was helpless before his power. Though it never seemed to remain as rage. It would crumble into confusion and irrepressible sadness. After all, wasn't that all that rage truly was, a passionate despair?

Ron was about to press on further, but Hermione stepped in with her more intact sensitivity skills. "Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are in the kitchen and they'd love to see you. Mrs. Weasley's been worrying about you for quite a while." Hermione took a deep breath and looked Harry in the eyes. "We've all missed you, Harry." She reached out and took Harry's hand, and Ron took hold of his shoulder. Harry felt his body warm up as his two best friends made all his misgivings fade to a calm acceptance, and he slowly made his way to the kitchen.

Before he even reached the room, Mrs. Weasley ran to him and held him in her arms, like any mother might hold their son after they've returned from a war unharmed. Mr. Weasley followed behind her, though more reserved.

"Good to have you back, Harry." He gave Harry one of his warm smiles, and a soft pat on the back.

Slightly uncomfortable, though grateful to the kindheartedness Mrs. Weasley always showed him, Harry partially returned the embrace.

Mrs. Weasley, for what might have been the first time, looked as though she didn't know what to say. She settled for directing Harry into the kitchen, where a feast lay ready for all of them. "We were waiting for our final guest, dear." Dumbledore, Charlie and Bill, Fred and George, Ginny, Remus, and even Professor McGonagall and Hagrid sat watching Harry with smiles (not something common on the part of Professor McGonagall).

"Well, hurry up then Harry! Mum's beat us near senseless for trying to sneak some food! We're starving!" Fred held up his arms to show red marks which looked suspiciously like the shape of hands and rolling pins. Mrs. Weasley gave them a sharp look, which shortly after broke into a grin. Everyone laughed and held up their own arms as well, showing similar marks, with the obvious exception of Professor McGonagall.

Dumbledore explained, "I just couldn't hold back dipping a finger in the chocolate pudding! It seemed to call out my name." Everyone broke into laughter, and took their seats. Harry sat between Hagrid and Ron, with Ginny and Hermione right across from them. Soon the gloomy kitchen was alight with their laughing and merriment, as they all recalled the days when there was a quasi-peace in their lives, when things were happier.

While Harry knew what everyone was trying to do for him, part of him felt as if he were losing his mind sitting down for dinner in his Godfather's house, a house which exuded darkness from its very walls and was so hated from its late heir. Harry found himself constantly looking around at everyone at the table, looking for Sirius among them, and he had to painfully remind himself every time that Sirius was dead, and he would never be in this house again.

After dinner, Harry and Ron helped clean up, and then bid everyone goodnight. As they headed up to their room however, Mrs. Weasley stopped them. "Harry dear, any room you want for your bedroom you take." Mrs. Weasley paused for a minute, then gave Harry a tentative smile. "You know, he left you everything."

'He,' Harry thought. Yes, the one who wasn't at dinner tonight, and the reason why he hadn't truly been able to join in the happiness at supper. That sickening twitch in his stomach that had been there so long. He wondered if it would ever go away.

"He cared about you very much," Mrs. Weasley finished. She gave a troubled, understanding look then gave him a warm hug and kiss on the forehead. She then turned to Ron to do the same and smiled. "Goodnight, dears."

When the two of them made it to Ron's room, Ron turned to Harry, scuffing his feet in the awkward silence.

"So . . . er . . . where are you sleeping then, Harry? I'm sharing a room with Fred and George. There's an extra bed in there if you like. It'd be fun, the four of us, messing around with Fred and George's new creations for their Joke Shop."

Although Harry had planned on taking Sirius' old room, he felt it might be best if he spent the night with Ron, Fred and George. He decided he could use some more laughs, so he told Ron he'd spend the night in their room. Shortly after they'd broken out a game of wizards' chess, the fun began.

A great slimy newt leapt at Ron's face and latched on with some sort of suction cup-like feet. Fred and George fell over from behind the trunk where they had been hiding and burst into booming laughter as Ron clasped at the slimy creature latching onto his face, yelling and desperately trying to loosen its hold. Finally, the newt fell from his face and turned into a chocolate replica of the creature.

Harry smiled and allowed himself a small laugh, giving Ron an apologetic look, and asked, "What do you call those?"

Ron begrudgingly let a smile slip across his face as he couldn't hide his own interest in the wonderful new toy either. "Yeah, I'll take all you've got!"

"These little beasties are not yet on the market," George said severely.

"Besides, you'd use them for naught but malevolent deeds! We could never allow our merchandise to be used for such a shameful cause." Fred shook his head apologetically, waving a finger at the wide grin on Harry's face. "Tut tut, don't be fresh with us now, dearest Harry, or we might just have to sneak a puking pastille in our dear Brother's soup at dinner tonight!"

"Oh, I do believe that we've already eaten dinner, haven't we, Fred?" George let a devilish grin sweep across his face. Ron glared at the pair of them, holding his stomach.

Ron was about to have a go at them before they soothingly assured him they were only kidding about the puking pastille.

They all got in their beds and talked for a while, Harry mostly just listening, until they all fell asleep to the strange sounds of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black..

Harry's sleep, however, was far from normal. He had the dream he was in the burning down building again, with that same person laying over his motionless body, holding him and crying. He found his way to the scene faster this time, having been there before. As he got closer, the figure became more discernible, and physical features became more clear. Creeping closer to the figure in what seemed like an irreversible slow motion, realization hit Harry.

The person was a man.

A boy rather, one which seemed his own age. The fact that it was a boy who was kissing him didn't really occur to Harry as strange. All that really seemed to get through to him was that this boy seemed to really care about him. He couldn't help but feel attracted to the boy, he was taller than Harry, and had a more muscular build. Dirt and ash in his hair coupled with the darkness made it hard to determine the color. He was crying about Harry, though, and that was what really got him. Just as the face was about to turn in his direction, the boy changed into a man, one that was dressed in gold and scarlet. Shocked that the boy holding him had really been a man, or rather suddenly changed into one, Harry took another glance down to where his body had been. He found that it had changed to that of a man as well, and it wasn't his body anymore. The new body was lying there unconscious, just as his was moments before, except it was dressed in robes of silver and green. What did this all mean?

Harry slowly stepped backwards, and hit into a wall behind him with a startled yelp. The man that was standing looked despondently at Harry with his raw face and reddened eyes, gave a gentle smile and said, "Finish what we were too proud to start. It's inside you both." His hand shook unsteadily as he said these words, and Harry looked down at the body on the floor to realize that it had once again turned back to his own, but before he could look up to identify the other boy, a voice woke him out of his dream.

"BREAKFAST IS READY! Everyone down to the kitchen if you want it hot!"

Harry sat up with a start, and noticed Fred and George were up too, though Ron was still asleep, mumbling. Fred and George looked at each other mischievously, then to Harry. Smiling wickedly, Fred took his wand and crept over toward Ron. Right as Ron took in a big snore of air, Fred placed the tip of his wand in Ron's left nostril, and mumbled a spell Harry had never heard before. Ron gave a great shout as what appeared to be a great jet of air shot up his nose, and he was sent flying backwards into a dusty armoire. Ron stumbled up, yelling curses at Fred and George, who quickly fled the scene in fits of laughter. Harry helped the disgruntled Ron up off of the floor, and they pursued the twins who were taking five steps at a time to avoid Ron's swinging fists, as he was now quite a bit taller and bulkier than they were.

The next couple of days were some of the best Harry had had in quite a while. He began to learn the concept of family, and also to always check the toilet bowl for latching newts before sitting down (compliments of Fred and George). Things were going steady, and that was a nice change for him. Mrs. Weasley went out to get their school things from Diagon Alley while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny spent their time in the drawing room enjoying their last days of break.

Everything went steady, that is, until the 30th of August, when Harry woke in bed from a dry throat. Fred, George, and Ron were fast asleep, so he softly got out of his bed and headed downstairs. The house was unnerving at night, as many of the haunting portraits and hangings on the wall were stuck with permanent sticking charms and couldn't be removed. Harry groggily made his way toward the basement when he heard voices, though he was not surprised that anyone was awake, probably on business for The Order. Without looking up immediately, Harry said, "I need some wa-"

However, what he was surprised to see as he did look up, was Draco Malfoy standing there before him, staring at him, studying him, but not saying a word. A strange calm overtook Harry, and Dumbledore, who was also there, said something. Harry however, wasn't listening, but figured it had something to do with Malfoy. Feeling slightly euphoric and confused, Harry mumbled a reply and trudged over to the sink to fetch some water. He waited until the liquid felt cool over his fingertips before he stuck his cup underneath the faucet. As he watched the water fill his cup, Harry felt an unfamiliar battle going on inside his mind. He would feel a sudden burst of outrage that Draco was in his house, but the next second he felt as if some alien force inside of him was sedating him. His scar tingled, but not like it did when Voldemort was near or affecting him, but like it sometimes did when he was hit by some sort of spell.

Harry yawned out a "'night" as he headed back upstairs, rubbing his head and nearly turning back a dozen times to go explode in rage at Malfoy's presence.

That night, as Harry lay down in bed, he did not dream of the burning building. The dream that he did have, though, was no less bewildering for his tired and crowded mind.

He sat in a dark gloomy kitchen, at a dusty table. Harry wondered for a moment if he'd been sleep walking, but his brain began to tell him things that could not have been real. He was living in Grimmauld place with Sirius, and it was night time. Harry was looking for Sirius to say goodnight, but he couldn't find him. Kreacher happened upon him, and Harry demanded he tell him where Sirius was. Kreacher simply scoffed and mumbled some choice words about Harry's mother, but fled right when he detected Harry's foot flying towards his face. Now becoming slightly distressed, Harry ran up to Sirius' room to see if he'd gone to bed early. When he got there, he saw his godfather sitting on his bed holding photos in his hands.

"Sirius! Where have you been?" Harry ran over to him and Sirius looked up at him calmly.

"Sit down, Harry. Let's talk." Sirius muttered these words without looking up at him, and continued to shuffle through his photos.

Harry hesitated, but Sirius patted the empty spot on the bed next to him and took Harry's hand, pulling him down.

It occurred to Harry that he should be angry with Sirius, just like he'd been with Dumbledore. He could've bested Bellatrix, he just hasn't tried his hardest. Tears began to form in Harry's eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall down his face. He waited for Sirius to speak again.

"I guess things didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, Harry." Sirius set his photos aside, staring at his hands, and Harry chose then to erupt in anger at him.

Harry jumped up from the bed and faced Sirius as too many tears to brush away rushed down his face. "Didn't turn our the way YOU'D hoped!? How could you have just left me like that!?"

Blood rushed to Harry's head and everything in his body stopped. Everything was spinning around him uncontrollably, and he looked up again at Sirius through watery eyes nearly shut from strain. "YOU KNOW YOU WERE ALL I HAD LEFT? HOW DID YOU LET HER KILL YOU?"

Harry's ire began to waver into despair, and his voice cracked with strain. "You can't just choose to come into my life, promise me things I've always wanted, everything I've ever wanted, and then leave me! I loved you like..." Hard wood met Harry's knees unforgivingly as he collapsed to the floor. Before he had the chance to collapse face first against the ground however, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly. Harry fought against them, but Sirius only held tighter, and Harry finally gave in. He buried his head in Sirius' shoulder, sobbing with abandon into his robes. Sirius wove his fingers through Harry's hair and held him tighter, while he tried not to choke on the words he needed to say. He first lifted Harry back up to his bed, and the two of them laid there for a couple of minutes while Harry calmed down. All the while, Sirius never let go of Harry. It seemed like an hour had passed before Sirius finally spoke again, in the same, soft words.

"I'm sorry it all happened this way, Harry." Sirius took a deep breath, and his chest rose and sank in sighing. Harry's mind swirled his surroundings into a blur of color, and a strangled murmur was barely detectable from the back of his throat as Sirius continued. "You know I'd looked forward to you moving in ever since I saw you for the first time, since I'd been in Azkaban." Harry felt droplets of warm tears fall onto his forehead, and knew they were from Sirius. Harry's head throbbed in pain from his crying, and he would have started again had he not been too exhausted.

"Father." Harry finished, barely a whisper. "Why do things always have to end this way, Sirius?" It felt so good to say his name like that and expect a response. Somehow saying his name was more important than the question itself; Harry tightened his hold on his godfather.

Sirius returned the embrace, and pulled Harry closer to him, until he was whispering right in his ear. "It hasn't ended, Harry. I'll be with you until the very end, until the day when you must fight Voldemort face to face. Don't think for a second I'd ever leave you, because I'm with you more than you think."

Instilled with assurance at his godfather's words, Harry finished his night with a dreamless sleep.

***** Harry's 16th Birthday

When Draco woke the next morning, his mother was still asleep. His stomach grumbled with hunger, so he snuck out to make a kitchen run and get some food. Not much in the mood for having a row with the Weasley boys or Harry, Draco grabbed some bread, jam, fruit, and tea before heading back to his mother's room.

Narcissa's room was more spacious than Draco's, with a small table, two chairs, and an enormous couch. This place reminded him a lot of his home, just older and more unkempt. Draco ate some bread and an apple, and quickly became bored. He looked around the room and concluded that this must have been some dark wizard's office, because many devious looking spell books littered the shelves and tables. Draco saw one entitled Famous Wizards and Witches of the 18th Century and thought it looked out of place with all the other books surrounding it, with names like How to Silence Your Enemies, Potions for Revenge and Retaining Secrecy. Draco picked up Famous Wizards and Witches of the 18th Century and began to read it, but shortly after realized it was just as rotten as the rest. The first entry in the book was a "Herman Böse, renowned wizard who fought with the founders of Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin excluded, because he wanted more dark arts to be taught in their curriculum."

Draco set the book back, and turned around to find his mother awake. She took the food he offered her, and they sat in silence for a while. Things were bound to crash eventually, though, and Draco asked the question that was weighing on both their minds.

"How long do you have?"

The question was a barely a whisper. An unwelcome silence followed his voice, until it was broken by Narcissa dropping her apple onto the table as she lost control over her shaking fingers. She turned away from Draco, avoiding his shaky composure.

"I wish you wouldn't ask such questions, Draco." She bitterly lifted her hand to her hair, pushing it out of her face and holding it there to shield her eyes. She felt his eyes still locked on her, pushing her to answer the question. "Don't ask me that."

"WHY WOULDN'T I ASK YOU!? Don't you think I have a right to know when you're just going to drop dead on me!?"

"I don't know Draco!" Narcissa grabbed the edge of the table in one hand, and her seat in the other, tightly so that her pale hands became ever more white. "I don't KNOW when it's going to happen! It could be anywhere from a week to a month! I don't know when I'm going to drop dead!"

She glared at him sitting on the edge of her seat, eyes red and shining. Draco fell into the seat next to her, leaning his elbows on the table and holding his head up with his fingertips. Everything really was falling apart, just like he'd known it would. Everything.

In a more collected voice, Draco muttered, as if in a trance, "How could you be so stupid? A bond to follow him in death. What the bloody hell did you think you were doing? Being some kind of twisted noble wife or something?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Draco! We've been over this more times that I can remember. I didn't have a choice. There's nothing I can do."

"So you're just giving up!?" Draco grabbed her face and made her look at him. "I'm just going to lose everything to this bloody war. What fucking difference did it make for me to tell Lucius no then, if you're just going to give up?!"

She began sobbing uncontrollably in his hands, muttering, "I don't know, I don't know," into his his shoulders as he brought her into an embrace. His face softened, and he held her head in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not going to let you just give up. Malfoy's don't give up."

Draco told her everything about how Lucius had escaped and wanted to take him away to join the Death Eaters. Draco refused and had been tortured, but something happened right before Lucius was about to kill him, and he died instead. Narcissa was just as confused by this as him, but found it more important that her son had survived, and didn't dwell on it. She broke into near hysterics at all the insanity in her life, and Draco stayed there with her all the while, calming her and assuring her.

Draco and Narcissa were still very tired despite the sleep they had gotten, and they slept through the day. Draco slept on the couch, and his mother on the bed. Around six o'clock, Mrs. Weasley popped in to give them food from Harry's birthday dinner. Draco had heard all the laughing and celebrating when she opened the door, and hated the way it made him feel. Things would never be the same for him, or his mother. He thought of how even though he'd risked his life because he didn't want to join Voldemort, things would never work out between him and the others that rebelled against the Dark Lord.

*******

Everyone from the night Harry had arrived was at his Birthday dinner, including Tonks who was constantly changing appearance for entertainment. Fred and George let off some fireworks, and fun as they were, the shrieks of Mrs. Black resounded for quite a while after. After everyone was stuffed to the brim with food and cake, Harry opened all his presents.

From the Weasleys, Harry got a beautiful book with gold polished pages entitled, Defense of the Mind and Body. Harry felt guilty when he received the gift, he knew it must have cost quite a bit, and he felt really touched the Weasley's had made such a sacrifice for him.

Hermione, to Harry's distaste, gave him a more violent version of the planner she had given him previously. This new updated version did things like bite him when he started to daydream during homework time, or wake him rudely in the middle of the night if he put things off that he shouldn't have.

"Er. . .thanks, 'Mione" Harry had mumbled as he eyed the present warily.

Hagrid gave Harry a couple blocks of Honeyduke's chocolate as well as a whole box filled with mysterious sweets he'd never seen before. Harry gave Hagrid a big thanks through labored breaths as Hagrid engulfed him in a bone-crushing embrace, then went over plans in his mind for tackling the hoard of food.

After much anticipation, Fred and George gave Harry their gift. It was a new game they'd invented, one which they called "Rude Awakening". Skeptical at first, Harry listened to their explanation. The game consisted of a deck of one hundred cards which each had a picture of a made up creature on them. The deck would be split between the number of people who were playing, and then each person would place their deck face down, and draw one card. Each card had a certain amount of hit points, and you would choose an attack from the list on the card to use on your opponents card. George picked one up to show Harry, and it was an ugly little green creature which shot bogies out at the player's opponent when it defeated one of their cards, although it could be confused and made to backfire. Harry thanked everyone for their gifts, including Remus who had gotten him a set of gobstones, and Professor McGonagall who had bought him a book of advanced transfiguration spells (which Hermione eyed with envy). Just as Harry was going to go pack all his things in his trunk for Hogwarts the next day, Dumbledore stopped him and asked for a word.

"I haven't given you my gift yet, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he spoke, and he took a more serious, though still light-hearted, tone. He held out his hand, and in it was a shiny golden wrist-cuff with legs that made it look like a scorpion, minus the stinger. On the cuff was a pacing lion with a big "G" on its side. "This belonged to Godric Gryffindor, Harry, and is called the Bangle of Perpetuity. It feeds on your fear, and turns it into courage. Not something that I thought you had particular trouble with, just a nice gift. I personally like how it shines."

Harry smiled at how off his rocker his headmaster was, and took the gift. "Thanks."

Harry missed the gleam that shown in Dumbledore's eye as Harry took the gift. Dumbledore's gestures were calculated and questioning, as if he knew something that Harry did not, which seemed to be the case quite frequently concerning the two.

As Harry put the cuff on, the legs closed around his wrist, and the cuff melted into his arm leaving a 'G.G.' mark behind. Harry looked up at Dumbledore in surprise, and he explained.

"The Bangle of Perpetuity melts into its wearer, and can be removed by simply tapping the initials with your wand and saying 'Godric Gryffindor'."

Harry nodded, thanked him again, and made his way upstairs again to pack his things. He kept looking at his wrist, though, because something about the cuff was strange. It felt like it belonged there, and Harry felt like he had missed it, though he had never had it in his possession before. Confused, Harry continued with his packing.

Ron, Fred and George were already finished when Harry got to the room, and had started a game of gobstones. They offered to start over, but Harry told them not to bother. He would just go find Hermione and Ginny, and maybe Remus, to play a game of Rude Awakening with him. He quickly packed his things and headed back downstairs when he passed two doors he noticed had been closed the whole day. He suddenly remembered Draco had been in Grimmauld place last night, and wondered how he could have forgotten. Harry felt a strange tugging coming from the door. Yes, that was what it was, wasn't it? That tingly feeling in his scar acted up again, and he went to open the door when...

"Oh, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley appeared behind him, looking unnerved at the situation which she had encountered. "You shouldn't go in that room, it will only upset you."

"What's in there?" Harry's question was knowing, and if words could bite, Mrs. Weasley would have received quite a wound.

She took a deep breath, and looked at Harry, who stared past her towards the door. "I'm not going to tell you that you should be okay with who is in there, Harry, because that is not my right. However, I am going to ask you to please, bear it. I want you to understand that it hurts me to ask this of you, I know what you've been through Harry, it haunts me every day. You know you're like one of my own." She took another deep breath. "The Malfoys are staying in that room." Mrs. Weasley's kind face began to quiver, and her eyes leaked their burden. She gasped, trying to hold it back, and calmly held her arms out to Harry, praying he would take them and be fine.

Harry just stared at her, though. A battle was being fought behind his eyes.

"I know, it must seem pretty outrageous, Harry. To be honest, I was none to thrilled about the situation myself. Arthur and I openly rejected the idea many times before Dumbledore convinced us otherwise. I still had a hard time accepting Mrs. Malfoy when she arrived, but she wasn't remotely inimical towards me, and I failed to see why I should be any different. In times like these Harry, things you'd never deem possible happen right before your eyes. Known relations of a Death Eater presented themselves before me, and being the mother of seven children, I could never be so cold as to reject them. I know how you feel about Draco, it's the same as Ron and my other children."

The two of them backed away from the door, though Harry still felt that strange pull exuding from it. Mrs. Weasley's hand rested on his shoulder, and he could not help but detach his glare from the door, and look into Mrs. Weasley's aging eyes, tired from lack of sleep. He had never noticed that tiredness that seemed to drip from her eyes as she spoke to him, and it occurred to Harry how much Mrs. Weasley had changed, how much everyone had changed. This war was taking its toll on everyone, and Mrs. Weasley was no exception. Harry calmed, and listened to what she had to say.

"I'm not saying you should befriend Draco or anything like that, but maybe you should take this into consideration: Draco and his mother are going through some very difficult times right now. They've earned Dumbledore's trust, and that's good enough for me."

"What happened?" Harry blurted out, not too sure when he had decided to ask that question.

"Well I'm not quite sure it's my place to tell you, but I'm sure you'll hear it sooner or later seeing as how well-known Lucius Malfoy was." Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath, and looked past Harry towards the door as if to make sure no one was there. "Draco's father escaped from Azkaban, and he tried to kill Draco when he refused to join the Death Eaters. Lucius was killed, however, and Draco was rescued. That is all I know, and all I can tell you."

Harry gave up on probing for more information, and completely forgot about finding Hermione and Ginny.

"I'm on my way to say goodnight to the boys, why don't you come with me, Harry dear?"

Harry ignored Mrs. Weasley at that moment, and considered Draco Malfoy's position. He had finally fallen from his throne, the name Malfoy was no longer something he could boast or flaunt. His own father tried to kill him, and now here he was, taken in by those whom he'd once claimed his enemies. As much as Harry might have thought he would like to relish in Draco's misery, death was no longer something he took lightly. Draco had gotten something that he might have had coming to him, but Harry decided that this was not something he would ever bring up as an attack towards Draco. Things would not change between them, but Harry promised himself he would never sink so low as to bring up Draco's father as a defense in any encounter with the Slytherin. Harry felt relieved at his decision, and mentally ticked off in his head another reason which proved he was destined for Gryffindor.

Harry allowed himself to be steered upstairs by Mrs. Weasley then, but all the while he couldn't help but be knocked for six that of all people, Draco Malfoy had refused to join the Death Eaters. Maybe things would change between them. Maybe Harry hoped they would.

When he got back upstairs, Ron, Fred, and George were all already sleeping. Harry quietly crept into his own bed, and pulled the sheets over his tense body. He knew it was useless, though, because he just couldn't hold his eyes shut here, he couldn't be at ease. A madness was in this house, and it had already claimed Sirius. Harry was incurably uncomfortable, and so he kicked off his sheets, sat up in his bed and raked his fingers through his hair, wondering if he was going insane. He left the room, not sure where he was going, but he knew that he was never going to get any sleep. Ghostly whispers filled his ears and floated through the dark hallways, flowing from the wicked paintings which corrupted the walls. He was used to them, though, this house was mad after all.

Maybe Harry did know where he intended to go, it made sense enough when an all too familiar door stood before him. Sirius' room. Harry's heart pounded roughly against his chest, and his breath was shaky.

A cold, nauseating feeling swept on Harry's senses, a feeling he had felt before, one that seemed to take him over every time he tried to accept the fact that he was helpless to bring Sirius back among the living. With no one around him on this floor, Harry felt like he was being reminded of how he was alone in the world, without real family. He laid his fingers on the cold door knob, letting it's cold bite encroach on his senses. He closed his eyes, and opened it with one strong push.

The air in the room was painfully familiar, a mixture of Sirius and Snuffles. Harry crept in erratically, and gazed around the room. It was in complete disarray.

'Must be from when he rushed out to save me,' Harry thought with aching eyes. Harry then squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and headed for Sirius' bed. When he sat on the bed, he saw out of the corner of his eye something that pierced him farther than anything yet. A picture of himself, waving feverishly with a big toothy grin. Harry gave a soft laugh then, and felt a headache beginning as he struggled to keep his eyes from watering.

'Just like the photographs he was holding in his dream,' he brooded. Next to that picture, was another of him, but this one had Sirius and Remus in it as well. They both had one arm around each other, and one arm on Harry's shoulder, who stood in-between them. Harry took the picture of Sirius, Remus, and himself, and removed it from its frame. He held it in his hands, and then laid down on the bed. It was the very depiction of his hopes and aspirations for how his fifth term at Hogwarts should have ended, everything he had wanted. Everything.

Harry held his knees to his chest as he felt unbearable anger possess him at the thought of what Voldemort had taken away from him. It coursed through his veins and emanated from his eyes and body. Anger which brought about violent images in his mind, images of the terrible things he wanted to do to Voldemort and his followers. Then, as he remembered his parents' face, his godfather's face, the anger became helpless despair. All Harry could think about was that if Voldemort were to appear before him right now, he could cast the most powerful Cruciatus Curse every generated by man.

His scar ached and his eyes were blurry and hot, leaking salty tears across his troubled face. Raw emotion swept through his body as Harry let the night and oblivion claim him.

*****Early The Following Morning

"Harry. . .Harry wake up."

Harry's heavy eyelids struggled to open as some unknown force continued to rub his arm.

"Harry."

Grumbling and opening his eyes, Harry saw a tired, smiling, and troubled face greet him. Eyes of soft hazel looked down at him, saying, "Good morning, Harry."

"Professor?"

"Please, just Remus. I . . .wanted to talk to you."

Harry pulled up his elbows beside him sleepily and leaned on them for support. "What about?"

Remus looked around the room, and then down to Harry's right hand, which Harry realized was still clutching the picture from the night before.

"You know Sirius wasn't, and isn't, the only one who's ever cared about you, Harry."

Harry looked down from Remus' bashful gaze, he wasn't sure what to say. Though he couldn't help feeling a bit ashamed at how he'd grown apart from Remus.

Remus fidgeted with his hands for a bit as if he were trying to find the right words to say. He then took a deep breath and said, "Shortly after I graduated from Hogwarts I lost everything that had meant something to me." He sighed and then continued, "Sirius and I suspected each other of being spies, and then . . . Voldemort got your parents."

Now it was Harry's turn to fidget.

"For years I was alone, with no one, really. I'm not telling you this because I'm looking for your pity, but I just . . .you and I aren't that different. And . . .well there's somewhere I'm going with this."

Harry looked up at Remus, and he looked even more exhausted than usual. He appeared to have an immense weight upon his shoulders, and Harry was suddenly overcome with sympathy for him. He remembered all the times he had spent with Remus in his office at school, and how close they had once been. Teaching him about the Patronus Charm, and sometimes just talking about life, Remus had always been there for Harry when he needed him.

"Sirius and I were planning on, well, kind of raising you together." Remus reddened and fidgeted a little again before continuing. "I finally had gotten back all I had lost, my friends, and even a new family. It seems like our lives are cursed, Harry. I miss him just as much as you do."

It occurred then to Harry how very little Remus had ever gotten in life. He was perhaps even more short-handed than himself, his life seemed so full of pain. Harry was reminded of how he had felt with Sirius, except not quite the same. Remus seemed more of a nurturer, whereas Sirius was more paternal. Harry thought painfully of what a wonderful life he could have had with the two of them, his life would have finally been perfect.

"I'm sorry everything has turned out the way it has, but I don't want to lost the most important people in my life all over again. Well what I'm trying to say is, I know I'm no substitute for Sirius, but-"

"I'm sorry, Remus."

"Oh. Oh, yes of course. I understand." Remus said looking crestfallen.

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry for having pushed you away after Sirius died. I want to live with you after next term." Harry smiled weakly, surprised at how easy the words flowed from his mouth.

A smile so bright swept across Remus' face then, it seemed to dissolve all signs of aging and exhaustion. Harry couldn't help but feel deja vu, as this reminded him so much of how Sirius had smiled when Harry had accepted his offer back in his third term.

Remus then pulled Harry into a tight embrace, which he, though a bit stunned, gladly returned.

"Promise me one thing, Harry."

"What's that?" Harry asked as they released each other and sat backs against Sirius' headboard.

Remus' cheeks reddened once again as he spoke. "Promise me that this family, you and I, we'll last forever. With Sirius and your parents watching over us from Heaven. I'm not sure I can stand to lose anyone else that's close to me."

Harry smiled and looked up at Remus, holding the photo in his hand out in front of them so they could both see it. Harry remembered Sirius' words from the night before, about never leaving Harry alone, and said a bit breathlessly, "We are forever."