A Type of Revenge

WARNING: Slash and triadic relationships occur in here. Go away if you can’t handle it.

 

Chapter Five: Healing

 

The music room door was shut as usual, and Harry rechecked his map. Yes, Malfoy was still in there. He opened the door quietly and slipped in, and sat down to listen to the music. Their discussion could wait until Malfoy had finished playing the haunting music that seemed to be his specialty.

 

Draco was playing again, and wouldn’t have noticed if someone had let a bomb off under the piano stool, yet he noticed Potter’s entrance. But then, he noticed most things about Potter, like the way that his hair was in a permanent mess that made him want to run his fingers through it and.... Draco cut himself off from his thoughts, and concentrated on the music. Potter could wait until he had finished playing. But Potter was distracting, and Draco finished playing more quickly than he normally would.

 

“All right, Potter, what do you want? You’re supposed to contact me before turning up here.”

 

“You can talk about the rules we made when my godmother is in the infirmary because you got Crabbe to throw a piece of Cold Iron at her, and they don’t know if she’ll make it?” queried Harry incredulously, “And I was starting to trust you, and you go and do something like this.” No one had said anything about Sarai dying, but Harry was capable of reading between the lines, and Sirius and Remus wouldn’t have come with such speed unless they were severely worried. Sirius wouldn’t have been allowed to risk himself to such an extent if it wasn’t possible that she would die.

 

“Well that’ll be one less half-breed in the world anyway,” sneered Draco.

 

“Don’t talk about her like that. You make it sound like being a half-breed is a bad thing when she can’t help who her parents are.”

 

“It was necessary,” Draco told him coldly, “Unfortunately, I underestimated the effect that the Cold Iron would have on her.”

 

“That was deliberate? Malfoy, you better have a damn good explanation.”

 

“I have my reasons.”

 

“What are they?”

 

“Private.”

 

“Malfoy,” said Harry warningly, “I am your contact. You had better tell me.”

 

“And you being my contact makes such a difference does it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Damn you, Potter.”

 

“I am the only one that you can go to,” said Harry mildly, “Now what are the reasons?”

 

Draco sighed in defeat. Potter wasn’t going to leave until he told him, which was a pity because there were better things that they could be doing....

 

“I’m waiting.”

 

“I wanted to be forbidden to go to Hogsmeade for the rest of the year Potter. It makes it harder for me to have to go and see You Know Who, and it also makes it harder for them to get at me if they find out about what I am doing.”

 

“McGonagall wanted to suspend you,” said Harry quietly.

 

Draco laughed shortly, “I bet she did.”

 

“Dumbledore wouldn’t let her though, and neither would Professor Grey. She did insist that all privileges were taken off you though.”

 

“Fair enough. What does Crabbe get?”

 

“Same as you.”

 

“He should get more than me. He was the one that actually did it.”

 

“They decided that telling him to do it was equal to actually doing it,” Harry told him. He was slightly calmer now that Malfoy had given him some good reasons for getting Crabbe to throw the Cold Iron to Sarai. “But Malfoy, did you have to use Cold Iron?”

 

“It had to work Potter.”

 

“Why?” asked Harry softly. And that one gentle word broke the crumbling wall in Draco’s mind, making him remember with sudden clarity the reality of all that he had been dreaming.

 

He stared at Harry without really seeing him, shaken, “Because my sister is dead and was killed by the one who has betrayed us both, and I cannot let her death go unavenged. Because she died horribly and I see her broken body in my nightmares...” Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Draco was dimly aware that he had grabbed Potter by the collar of his robes, and was shaking him, as he shouted into that startled face. “Because I have been forced to join Voldemort for the sake of Lucius’s pride and he touched me and....”

 

Harry listened to Draco’s semi-incoherent ramblings, first with shock, and then with increasing horror. He tried to shut the voice and what it was saying out of his head, but he couldn’t. Malfoy seemed to be getting increasingly hysterical.

 

“...She’s dead, and it’s my fault because I wasn’t there in time to help her and this is all that she would accept for a death offering and she left me her flute and I’m not worthy of it because it was hers and she was a Bard and all that was bright and good in this world and I loved her and Lucius had her killed because she wouldn’t marry me, but she couldn’t anyway because we’re siblings and now she’s dead and I had to bury her, broken body lying there so still, hands crushed, she could never again play with them like that so maybe it’s good that she’s dead but I miss her and I want her alive again and the Sidhe would kill me if he knew what happened to her. He was light and shining and he couldn’t bear the sun and I can’t bear this Mark that was put on me...”

 

Harry slapped him lightly. That was what you were supposed to do if someone got hysterical wasn’t it? Draco took a wild swing back at him, and his fist connected with his cheek. Harry fell back to rethink his strategy.

 

“Because it was He Who Must Not Be Named that did this and he touched me and the snake touched me and he wanted me to make a mistake so he could kill or main me, or not accept me which would destroy Lucius but I want him destroyed too because its really his fault that she’s dead, lying there in the ground with her heart missing and her hands broken and her legs were gone and she fitted easily into a sack, and he touched me with scaly hands that were dry, touched me all over and so did the snake and it hurt and I wanted it to stop but all I could do was watch and he touched me and I could feel the evil...”

 

Harry tried slapping him again. What’s that saying again? Either kiss them or slap them to shut them up. Well, the latter hasn’t worked.

 

“It was all over me trying to crawl beneath my skin and I could feel it leaving dirty marks over me but nothing was there when I looked. He said ‘Ssstrip’ in that slurred voice that he has, and I couldn’t disobey and why didn’t Lucius tell me what was going to happen? He and Narcissa just watched and did nothing when he touched me. So big, and it hurt and I couldn’t move, hands tied behind my back, and Salem is dead, and it was snakeskin that bound me, and the snake was there and it touched me too, ‘til I couldn’t tell when one ended and the other began and it hurt, the touch of skin on mine and the evil was there and it was cold, and all I could do was watch from a distance. Cold, so cold now. Can I ever be warm again now that she’s dead, and he touched me. They did nothing to help me, nothing to stop him, when they saw, and I wanted to die like Salem, join her in that cold earth in the woods, Salem with her body broken and torn and I couldn’t stop it, and now I want to die but I can’t cause they would win, and that can’t happen - paid too much now to lose it and he touched me there, on the drawing room floor and they did nothing...”

 

Harry took a chance and swooped in on Malfoy, hoping that the now wildly waving hands wouldn’t touch him. Malfoy’s lips were soft and cool and moving under his tentative touch. He lingered there for a moment longer than he needed to, and then pulled away.

 

Draco stopped abruptly. Potter had kissed him. “What did you do that for?” he demanded, unconsciously raising his hand to his lips and touching them wonderingly. Potter’s lips had been soft and warm. Draco wanted him to do that again, but repressed the urge to leap on Potter. He was so cold.

 

“You were hysterical Malfoy.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to slap someone for that?”

 

“I tried.” said Harry ruefully, rubbing his cheek. “You got me back a lot harder than I got you.”

 

“Oh. But did you have to kiss me, Potter?”

 

“You were shouting hysterically at me,” Harry told him too calmly, “You were telling me, somewhat incoherently I might add, about your sister and your induction into the Death Eaters.”

 

Draco was silent. He couldn’t remember any of what he had said to Potter, but from the pale look of Potter’s face, he was sure that it hadn’t been good. Potter looked almost shocky.

 

“So,” said Harry, still calm. “Why don’t we start again, if you promise not to get all hysterical on me again.”

 

“I can’t do that, Potter.”

 

“Not do what?” demanded Harry, “Tell me, or get hysterical?”

 

“Get hysterical,” said Draco.

 

“Why is that?” Colour was slowly coming back into Harry’s face, as he started to assimilate what Draco had gone through without really comprehending it.

 

“Because I’ve been avoiding even thinking about it lately. Blocked it all off in my mind, and it came out in my dreams.”

 

“So that’s why you’re here at strange hours of the night,” exclaimed Harry.

 

“Yes. Music soothed me for a while, then even that didn’t work and I kept dreaming about her and she was lying there chastising me for not saving her and I couldn’t bear to see what she looked like when she died, but that was all I saw in my dreams....” Draco’s voice choked on a sob.

 

Harry gently put his hand on Draco’s arm, “You’re not getting hysterical on me are you now, Malfoy?”

 

“No.”

 

Harry led him over to the piano stool, as it was the only seat big enough to hold the two of them in the room. He gently pushed Malfoy down on the seat, and sat down beside him. Malfoy had wrapped his arms around his chest and was shivering a little.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“Does it really matter, Potter?

 

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable, “Not really. It’s just that you’re shivering and I wondered.”

 

“Potter,” said Draco wearily, “My sister is dead, and I’ve just been shouting hysterically at you for the past three quarters of an hour, and I should be all right?”

 

Harry flushed, “When you put it that way...” he trailed off. Then awkwardly, he put his arm around Malfoy’s thin shoulders, “Do you want to tell me about it? You need to talk to someone I think, and I’m probably the only one you can come to with this...”

 

Draco instinctively moved closer into Potter’s side. He was warm, and Draco was cold. He gave an involuntary shudder as the thought of why he was cold rippled through his mind. “All right, Potter.”

 

Harry squeezed Malfoy’s shoulder gently in what was meant to be a gesture of reassurance. He was not going to start thinking about how good Malfoy felt tucked into his side like that. They had never really touched before, he realised abruptly. It had always been Ron who had ended up in the physical fights. Harry and Malfoy had always used wands. They were rivals, and had been enemies, yet Malfoy felt good by his side. Harry watched the bowed head near his face and waited.

 

Draco was aware of Potter’s steady gaze on him, but steadfastly resisted asking Potter why he was staring at him. Besides, if he annoyed Potter, Potter would probably take his arm away, and it felt good there. Warm. And he was cold. “It’s been a long time since anyone held me like this, Potter.” he heard himself say abruptly. Draco heard Potter’s shocked intake of breath. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud. He risked a glance up into Potter’s face. Oops, I guess I did. “Neither Lucius nor Narcissa are very enamoured of touching people, and neither are the Slytherins.”

 

“Oh.” Potter’s voice sounded rather small, “I can understand that a bit, Malfoy. The Dursleys don’t touch me either, unless it’s to hit me.”

 

“The muggles you live with hit you? Don’t they know who you are?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry shortly, “And why you would object to them hitting me, I don’t know.”

 

“Neither do I, actually.”

 

“So no one has held you?” asked Harry. He tried to sound as non-threatening as possible, but wasn’t sure that he managed.

 

“Not for a while.”

 

“Who held you before?” There was clinical disinterest in Harry’s voice, although he was curious.

 

“Can’t you guess Potter?” Draco laughed bitterly, “Salem did of course.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She liked physical contact.” Draco felt the tears well up inside him at the thought of the last time that he had sat with Salem, their arms around each other, watching, and listening to the stars. He suppressed the tears firmly. He was not going to cry in front of Potter. “I think it was something to do with the fact that she was blind. She couldn’t read facial expressions, and touched you to get a sense of what you were feeling.”

 

Harry made a small noise to show that he was listening. Draco continued telling Harry about Salem. Not about the way that she died, because he wasn’t ready to say anything about that yet, but about her life, her character, and her actions. He stopped abruptly when they heard a cock crow.

 

“It can’t be dawn.”

 

Harry shifted his aching arm, and went to peer out the window, “It can be, and it is,” he turned to Malfoy, “You better go to bed now, Malfoy. Try and get some sleep before you have to get up.”

 

“What about you?” asked Draco. His body protested the removal of Potter’s arm from over his shoulders. It had felt warm, and now he was cold again.

 

“I was with Professor Grey until her family arrived,” said Harry, “Madam Pomfrey gave me a note so I could sleep in, as I left the infirmary rather late.”

 

“Did you come straight here?”

 

“Yes. And next time that you plan on doing something like that, let me know, and we can organise a fight or something. Cold Iron on a half-Sidhe is too dangerous.”

 

“Yes, Potter,” sighed Draco, “Anything you say, Potter.”

 

Harry’s mouth quirked reluctantly, “Go to bed, Malfoy. You must be sick to say something like that.”

* * * * *

When Ron woke up the following morning, Harry had only just gotten to sleep. He had pinned the note that Madam Pomfrey had given him to the bed curtains, and surrounded his bed with a silenco spell, and gone to sleep.

 

Ron was surprised to find Harry still asleep. Normally Harry was up before him, or they were up at the same time. He got up, and dressed, and went to yank open Harry’s curtains when he noticed the note neatly attached to the curtains.

 

To whom it may concern,

 

Mr Harry Potter has permission to miss his morning classes for today, so he can sleep.

 

Madam Pomfrey.

 

Well, Harry must have stayed later than he expected, decided Ron, and went to tell the other boys not to wake Harry.

 

Hermione was concerned of course, and muttered something about Harry not getting any N.E.W.T’s if he didn’t do any work under her breath. Ron ignored her as usual, especially when she started saying the same sorts of things to him about his N.E.W.T’s. Honestly, Hermione could be such a nag sometimes.

* * * * *

It was just about lunchtime when Harry woke, and for a minute he couldn’t quite work out where he was. The sun was shining through a crack in the bed curtains, and it had lanced across his face and woken him up. He wasn’t used to being in bed at this time of day. He felt quite comfortable and lazy. For a while, he considered staying in bed, but when his bladder started pressing in on him, and his stomach started rumbling, Harry decided that it was time to get up.

 

He got washed, and dressed, and went to find something to eat. He’d seen Ron entering the Great Hall, and therefore wasn’t watching where he was going since he was following Ron. He walked straight into Malfoy.

 

Draco had been half asleep all day. It seemed that his talk with Potter had relaxed him enough to sleep - not dreamlessly, but enough for him to get some rest. After coping all these weeks with only a small amount of sleep, his body had finally decided that enough was enough, and that it would be a very good idea for him to get a lot of sleep. He was walking - sleep walking really - through the entrance way on his way to lunch when he banged into something large and heavy. They both fell over, almost on top of each other. Draco woke up with a start. The ‘something’ was Potter. Ignoring the way that Potter’s nearness sent a thrill up his spine, Draco channelled the energy into something more productive: Potter-baiting.

 

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” he snapped, “Or aren’t those muggles that you live with nice enough to buy you glasses that work?” he picked up the aforementioned items, and dangled them tantalisingly in front of Potter.

 

“That sounds about right,” said Harry. He wasn’t exactly going to defend the Dursleys to Malfoy, when Malfoy had summed them up accurately, “Now can I have my glasses back please?”

 

Draco looked at the glasses scornfully. Why didn’t Potter buy himself a new pair? Or fix his eyes at the Eycyclical Centre? “You should really get your eyes fixed, Potter,” he hissed as he chucked the glasses back at Potter. Potter caught them and put them on hastily.

 

“Thanks, Malfoy.” He picked himself up off the floor, and went into the dining room, leaving Draco staring after him in some vague sort of surprise.

 

Draco got up with a sigh. He would go and sit with his two companions, and eat a little, and watch Potter. He couldn’t wait until the evening. Then he could go to sleep.

 

Harry went and sat down with Ron. They said hi to each other, then started - or in Ron’s case, continued eating, saying nothing, but not really needing to. At least that was what Harry thought as he ate his break - lunch, and cooled down after being in such close contact with Malfoy.

 

“Harry,” said Ron, sounding alarmed suddenly, “What happened to you?”

 

“What d’ya mean?”

 

“You’ve got this bruise on your cheek.”

 

It wasn’t a dream after all. Malfoy had really gotten all hysterical, and Harry had kissed him to shut him up. “I walked into a door. I believe that’s the traditional excuse.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I banged into someone on my way back from the infirmary. He was startled and hit me.” Harry hated having to lie to Ron, but Ron would never believe what Malfoy had said the previous night, and would certainly tell someone else about it, much less accept that Malfoy had changed sides. And there was no way that he would compromise Malfoy’s cover.

 

“Harry, what happened to you?” asked Hermione before she had even sat down.

 

He gave her the same explanation that he gave Ron.

 

“And you didn’t see who it was?”

 

“It was dark, Hermione. I heard someone coming, so I didn’t have light any more, and they’d evidently done the same thing, so I banged into...”

 

“Do you know anything about this person?”

 

“A male,” said Harry, “That’s all.”

 

“That only cuts it down to half the school.” sighed Hermione, regretfully, “Will you report it, Harry?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry sarcastically, “And be asked: ‘Are you not capable of taking care of yourself Mr Potter?’ by Snape, and have the other teachers put in major security, so I can’t go anywhere alone. I don’t think so, Hermione.”

 

“So who will fix that then?”

 

“Madam Pomfrey, when I go to visit Sarainail tonight.”

 

“All right then.”

 

“Who came?” asked Ron.

 

“They both did.”

 

“Both?” exclaimed Hermione, “Don’t they know how dangerous that is?”

 

“They know the risks,” said Harry tiredly, “But they couldn’t stay away from her. Not when she’s got Cold Iron poisoning.”

 

“Is she that sick then?”

 

“I hope not, but I have a horrible feeling that she is.”

 

“What would that do to the others?”

 

Harry shuddered, thinking of the narrow white lines on thin wrists, and said softly, “It would kill them I think.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“They can’t survive without all three of them.”

 

“Harry,” said Ron, looking vaguely sick, “You didn’t say that they were a triad.”

 

Harry looked surprised, “I didn’t? I thought I had.”

 

“Never mind that now,” said Hermione impatiently, “We have a class now.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Defence Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin.”

 

“I wonder who’s going to teach it?”

 

“Maybe it’s Professor Lupin, just for these few lessons while Professor Grey gets better,” suggested Harry. He had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore would make the best use of his resources, and that included using Remus Lupin as a DADA teacher when their proper one was sick, and Snape had a lot to do for Potions anyway.

 

Draco watched the trio talking with what was by now a customary obsession. They seemed close, and were laughing and talking. Crabbe and Goyle were no use if you wanted an intelligent conversation. Oh well, it was time to go to class now. It was DADA, he remembered abruptly. He wondered who would teach it while Professor Grey was ill. He suddenly hoped that it wasn’t Snape. Snape hadn’t yet forgiven him for punching him on the face, and Draco would prefer to spend as little time as possible with the Potions Master. Besides, he remembered Snape’s skill at teaching DADA from the third year. He was much better at teaching Potions.

* * * * *

“Good afternoon everyone,” said the brown haired man standing at the front of the DADA classroom, “I don’t believe that I see any unfamiliar faces here, but I will introduce myself anyway. I am Professor Lupin for those of you that don’t remember me from your third year. For those of you who have concerns about the fact that I am a werewolf, allow me to assure you that the full moon is three weeks away, and it is unlikely that I will be here for that length of time. I am relieving for Professor Grey, who as you all know by now, has Cold Iron poisoning. She should be back in class by the middle of next week. However, so that you will not be alone with one of the Sidhe, when Lady Taranquil gives her guest lecture, she will attend that particular session. It is not advisable that you visit her, because she is in the feverish stage of the poisoning. Are there any questions, or have I answered them all?”

 

“Why are you here in the first place?” drawled Draco, “I thought that you weren’t allowed back on the grounds once the governors discovered that you were a werewolf.”

 

“I am listed as Professor Grey’s next of kin,” said their teacher mildly, “It was deemed necessary to send for me. I will be summoned if there is a change in her condition. Now, I have looked over the notes that Professor Grey has been using as her guidelines for this part of the year, and yesterday you were looking at the effect that Cold Iron has on the Faerie born. Is that correct?”

 

There were nods from everyone in the class.

 

“Very well then. Cold Iron has the most powerful reaction on the Sidhe, whether they are Seleighe or Unseleighe. You have seen how it affects someone who is a half-breed. It will kill one of the Sidhe almost instantly. But it is not the only defence against the Sidhe. Holy Water is another of these defences. It is more effective against the Unseleighe. Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

 

Even Hermione didn’t seem to know the answer to this one.

 

“Holy Water is more effective against the Unseleighe because of the nature of the Unseleighe. Have you discussed this at all?”

 

“No, Professor. Is it really necessary to?” asked Pansy petulantly.

 

“There is a war on at the moment Miss Parkinson,” answered Lupin obliquely,

 

“But what has that got to do with us?” she demanded.

 

Lupin looked amused, although he valiantly refrained from saying anything, “Do you think, Miss Parkinson, that you will be able to avoid choosing sides when you leave Hogwarts? That is if you haven’t chosen them already? It is growing more and more likely that Faerie will become involved in the war, to protect themselves when it ends, and in case that happens, regardless of which side you choose, you need to know how to fight them. Does that answer your question?”

 

“Yes, Professor.”

 

“Good. Now what have you learned about the Unseleighe?”

 

“Not much really,” said Hermione, “We know that they hold only one seat on the High Council of Sanctuary, and that they have all kinds of Faerie creatures in their ranks, not just the Sidhe.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Professor Grey talks about the Seleighe in relationship to the good - well at least the not so bad stuff in Faerie. I guess that the Unseleighe would be the opposite,” said Dean nervously.

 

“Very good, Mr Thomas. Five points to Gryffindor. The Unseleighe are the more unsavoury elements of Faerie. They count amongst them the Banshee. Does anyone know the origin of this word?”

 

“I thought the Banshee were extinct,” said Seamus in shock.

 

“Not at all, Mr Finnegan. They retired to Faerie not long after the rest of the Faerie did.”

 

Hermione’s hand was waving wildly in the air.

 

“Miss Granger?”

 

“The word Banshee originates from what the creature actually is. Bane Sidhe. It is a corrupted and shortened version of Bane of the Sidhe. It’s song is very dangerous to anyone that hears it, as it will drive them mad, but it is even more damaging to the Sidhe, both Seleighe, and Unseleighe.”

 

“What does it do to them, Hermione?”

 

“I don’t actually know, Professor. None of my books say anything about what happens to the Sidhe who are caught in the Banshee’s song.”

 

“That is because no one has ever discovered what happened to them. Of the 300 recorded cases of Sidhe being caught by the Banshee, nothing has ever been found of them. It is as though they have vanished off the face of the earth, or out of the very fabric of Faerie. Now the Lady Taranquil will be speaking to you more on the Sidhe, and their nature on Friday night, so I thought that we would have a look at the denizens of the Unseleighe. If you could all turn in your supplementary readings to page 87, we will start with the nobility of the Unseleighe,” he allowed them some reading time, before asking, “What is the main difference that you can see between the Seleighe and the Unseleighe in how they rule their people?”

 

Hermione put her hand up, but Lupin ignored her for a minute, until Ron’s hand joined hers in the air.

 

“Mr Weasley?”

 

“The Unseleighe only have one ruler. The Seleighe are divided into many kingdoms, each with it’s own monarch.”

 

“Well done, Mr Weasley. Can you tell me the name of the monarch of the Unseleighe?”

 

“No, Professor.”

 

“Miss Granger?”

 

“The Unseleighe currently has a queen. Her name is Maeve, according to most of my books, but she is known by various other names in muggle lore such as Queen Mab.”

 

“Very good. Is there a reason that you can think of that would account for the Unseleighe having only one ruler, when divided government works so well for the Seleighe, Mr Malfoy?”

 

Draco woke up from staring out of the window at the sound of his name, “Yes?” he asked, putting a board expression on his face.

 

Lupin’s face showed gentle amusement, “Is this class so boring that you must stare out of the window?”

 

Draco gathered that he had been asked a question, “No, Professor,” he said, semi-truthfully, “I was just thinking of something else,” or someone else, he added mentally.

 

“Would you care to say what it is?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Very well, but in future please do your extracurricular thinking out of class. The question I was asking you, Mr Malfoy, was if you could think of a reason that the Unseleighe have only one head of government, when many kingdoms work well for the Seleighe?”

 

Draco looked blank for a moment. The answer was so obvious that he wondered that no one else had answered it, “If there are many kingdoms, you have less individual power, and there is more infighting. If you are the sole ruler, you are the only one that allegiance is owed to, and therefore you have more power. Queen Maeve rules something that has as much power as the Seleighe kingdoms combined. That’s the theory anyway.”

 

“Excellent, Mr Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin for such an accurate answer. Mr Malfoy has summed up the situation in Faerie accurately. The Seleighe co-coperate with each other, and are more trusting. The Unseleighe are lead by Maeve, and she is the one that determines their policies. They are less co-operative, and the lean towards the darker side of magic. Does anyone else know anything about the Unseleighe, be it rumour, fact or legend?”

* * * * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione went to visit Sarainail after their classes had finished for the day. They couldn’t stay long, because they all had homework to do. Harry’s other teachers didn’t consider that staying up almost all night a good enough reason to not give him any homework, and the emphasis was now almost completely on the N.E.W.T’s, so everyone was starting to get highly stressed. If it had been left to them, Harry and Ron wouldn’t have started worrying about them very much, but the teachers agreed with Hermione, and reminded them in every lesson about the upcoming exams, so they all had felt obliged to at least start studying.

 

“Remember we can’t stay long,” said Hermione, “We have lots of homework to do, and Harry, you have to get our notes from this morning yet.”

 

“We know, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently, “Honestly, you’d think we’d never do any work without you around.”

 

“There’s no need to be offensive,” said Hermione huffily, “Just because I care about how well I do in my exams, and you don’t.”

 

“Of course we care,” snapped Ron, “But it’s not the be all and end all of the world.”

 

“But they’re very important, Ron,” said Hermione earnestly, “Your future career depends on how well you do.”

 

“Really?” inquired Ron, “Even with this war on?”

 

“I forgot about the war for a minute,” she admitted, “But it still applies you know, except that the results could be a lot more fatal if you don’t do well.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to actually...”

 

“Knock it off, you two,” said Harry, “Not only are we now at the infirmary, we have also had this discussion lots of times before, so it doesn’t really need to happen again.”

 

Madam Pomfrey claimed Harry as soon as they entered, so she could heal his cheek, so the other two waited for him before they all went into the small room off to the side of the main ward, where Sarainail was.

 

“What happened to you Potter?”

 

Harry shrugged, “I banged into something.”

 

“You should really watch where you are going, or get your eyes fixed,” she scolded him. Harry escaped as soon as possible.

 

Sirius was in his animagus form, and Lupin was sitting calmly by Sarainail’s bed, gently stroking her upper arm with one hand, and scratching Sirius’ ears with the other by the time they entered.

 

“I hope that you’ll learn to move more quietly if you’re going to fight in the war,” said Lupin as they entered, “I could hear you for a long time before you came. And werewolves aren’t the only things with sharp ears on the Dark side.”

 

“We’re in Hogwarts, Professor, it doesn’t really matter,” said Ron crossly.

 

“Probably not,” agreed their teacher mildly, “but it pays to remain in practice.”

 

“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Hermione briskly. She approached the bed cautiously, “How is she?”

 

Ron eyed the large black dog sitting by the bed, “Is that ahh...”

 

“You may as well change back now, Padfoot.”

 

The dog stood, and stretched, “Thank you for you kind permission, our Remus,” said the tall, dark haired man that now stood where the dog had been. “I had just gotten comfortable.”

 

Hermione watched the interaction between the two men, and saw how they watched anxiously over the slender female who lay quietly in the bed, and wondered that she hadn’t picked up on it before. They obviously loved each other very much. Harry walked over to the bed, and lightly touched Professor Grey’s face. Her eyes fluttered open, and looked at him in a slightly dazed manner.

 

“Sarai? Are you all right?”

 

A weak smile, “I will be. Don’t fret.”

 

“He’s not fretting, our Sarai,” said Remus cheerfully, “He knows better than that. Now Sirius here...”

 

Sarainail laughed a little, “Slanderer... You worried too... Don’t deny it.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he protested.

 

Sirius, watching the interaction between the two people that he loved most in the world, turned to the three teens standing nearby.

 

“How are you all?” he asked cheerfully, “Sarai doesn’t exactly say much in her letters about you.”

 

“We’re all right,” muttered Ron. He was still reeling with the knowledge that Sirius, Remus and Saranail were a triad. Why hadn’t Harry said anything?

 

“Busy,” said Hermione, “N.E.W.T’s coming up soon, you know. We have to do lots of study, and we get lots of homework too.”

 

“But I thought they weren’t until next term?” said Sirius in amazement, “When did that change?”

 

“It hasn’t.”

 

“Then why start studying now?”

 

“Because they’re really important, and they affect our entire future and...”

 

“Please don’t get her started,” groaned Ron to Sirius, “She’s obsessed with this topic.”

 

“...If we don’t do well in them, we might die in the war and...”

 

“Hermione, you will remember to have fun, won’t you?” asked Sirius, interrupting Hermione abruptly.

 

“Fun?” asked Hermione blankly, “What’s that?”

 

They all laughed.

 

“Yes, I’ll have some fun.”

 

“Make sure that you do,” said Sirius firmly, “My seventh year was one that I enjoyed the most out of all my school years.”

 

“Funny,” remarked Remus, “You didn’t say that at the time.”

 

“Something about choices,” noted Sarai.

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

“Yours,” said both of his loves at the same time. Sarainail added, “Just shut up, our Sirius, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

 

“Silence woman.”

 

“Chauvinist animagus.”

 

“You better watch it, Sirius,” warned their other, “Else you might find yourself with cats in your bed again.”

 

“Not cats. Please not the cats again, Sarai.”

 

“I have got to hear the story behind this,” said Ron to Harry, “ Cats? In beds?”

 

“It’s none of our business really,” said Hermione.

 

“But don’t you want to know?” asked Harry.

 

“Well... Yes, but that doesn’t really matter.”

 

“You ask later then, Harry,” said Ron.

 

“All right.”

 

“We should probably go now,” said Hermione, “All that homework and study to do.”

 

“Yes,” agreed Ron, “What fun.”

 

“Hmmm,” cat eyes slid shut, and Sarai seemed to just go to...

 

“Is she asleep?” asked Ron incredulously.

 

“Not quite.”

 

“She will be soon.”

 

“Will she be all right?” asked Hermione, suddenly remembering why they were there.

 

“Yes. She’ll be back in class by the middle of next week.”

 

When the three of them looked frustrated at this really informative sentence, Sirius added to what his lover had said.

 

“She survived the fever, so she’ll live. The poison is draining out of her system, which is why she is so tired, and fell asleep like that. The burns on her hands will be better by the time Lady Taranquil arrives.”

 

“Which is a really good thing, because then no one gets reproved for harming Sarai.”

 

“Would the Lady do that?”

 

“Yes, the Sidhe are really protective of their children, since they can’t have many.”

 

“Right,” said Harry, “I might come in again once I’ve done my homework, but we better go now. We have heaps to do.”

 

“Thanks for coming,” said Sirius, “We appreciate it.”

 

“S’all right,” mumbled Ron, ducking his head, and they left. He waited until they had reached the common room, and had started their homework before demanding, “Harry, why didn’t you tell me that they were a triad?”

* * * * *

Review. Please. I will love you forever.