Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

"If you ever decide to go, I want a warning. You know, big flashing red lights, and-and- and one of those clocks that counts down like a bomb in a movie? And there's a whole bunch of, of colored wires, and I'm not sure which is the right one to cut, but I guess the green one, and then at the last second "No! The red one!" and then click, it stops with three-tenths of a second left, but then you don't leave. Like that, okay?" -Anya, 'Triangle'

Harry woke up early that Saturday-the first official day of Easter holiday. Although the pink-tinged sky outside the dormitory window showed him it was early, a quick glance at his watch told him it wasn't yet half past six. Groaning inwardly, Harry stared at his canopy in frustration. His eyes were gritty with sleep and his tongue felt stale and fuzzy in his mouth. After the fight with Ginny the night before, his sleep had been restless, interspersed by terrible dreams that he could barely remember, although just the thought of them sent an icy shiver down his spine. Despite the groggy, heavy feeling of exhaustion already pressing its weight upon him, Harry knew he'd never be able to get back to sleep.

He got out of bed and dressed silently. As long as he was up early, he might as well look through some of his more advanced Defense texts for ideas for the next D.A. meeting. Rummaging through his trunk for the books, Harry pushed aside his Invisibility Cloak and Divination texts-why he still had those, Merlin only knew-when his eyes lit upon a slim, leather-bound book. It was Sirius's diary, and until that moment, he'd completely forgotten it even existed. Swallowing hard, Harry trailed his fingers along the smooth, worn surface of the binding before pocketing it.

Once down in the common room, Harry took out the diary again and, after a brief moment of hesitation, his wand. He opened the diary and stared at the message on the first page, running the tip of his index finger over the words with a small smile. Ron had said Sirius was being paranoid, thinking that someone might read his diary. Harry knew he was just being Sirius, and the idea comforted him.

Lupin had said the diary had a password, but that he should be able to figure it out. Harry thought for a moment, then picked up his wand and placed the tip on the first blank page.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Harry said.

To his surprise and delight, words began scrawling themselves across the page. When Harry read them, however, he was disappointed, although he hardly thought he'd get it on the first try.

Honestly, it read, how dim do you think I am?

Right. Of course Sirius wouldn't use that as his password-his three best friends would've guessed it immediately.

"Er, alright. Let's try... reveal your secrets?"

I don't take orders, you git, the diary told him.

The whole thing reminded him of his third year, when Snape had got a hold of the Marauder's map. He'd been livid, practically foaming at the mouth at the insults the map had thrown at him... That gave Harry an idea.

"Snape is a slimy git?" he asked it hopefully.

Close, but not quite. You almost had me there.

"Er, alright. Snivellus is a... a greasy wanker who needs to learn the basic rules of hygiene?"

Very amusing... but not quite enough.

And then Harry understood. The password wasn't an actual word at all-he needed to amuse the diary until it decided he was worthy of reading it! With that, Harry started telling it every joke he could think of. Finally, just when Harry was beginning to get frustrated...

"Two muffins are sitting in an oven. One turns to the other and says, 'Boy, it's really getting hot in here.' The other yells, 'Oh no! A talking muffin!'"

The pages immediately began filling with writing. Harry shook his head in amusement. Sirius had been a strange, strange man. Harry glanced at his watch-only seven o'clock. With a small smile, he sat back and began to read:

1 January, 1978

Have only just received this diary from Moony and have to say, was slightly surprised that he got me anything at all. Suppose is too much to hope for, that he may have forgiven me, but New Year's resolution no. 1 is: Must not Give Up Hope.

New Year's Resolution no. 2 (in direct correlation to no. 1): lose long- detested virginity at earliest chance. Have been walking around as pathetic virgin for nearly 17 years. Plus, James lost his last summer and has been insufferable git about it ever since. Told him Sylvia Slink hardly counts as she barely even qualifies as girl (being both Slytherin and ridiculously whoreish) but James just smirks as if he knows something the rest of us don't. Smarmy bastard. I could've easily lost virginity several times over if was willing to sleep with Slytherins who've already done half the school. A boy has to have standards.

Must admit, have been saving myself for Someone Special. Still, wish aforementioned Someone would come round, as virginity is both tiresome and annoying.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice interrupted him. He shut the diary quickly and shoved it into his pocket. "What are you doing up so early? It's Saturday, you know," she teased.

Harry shrugged. For some reason he didn't feel right telling Hermione about the diary. It was too private, somehow, too personal to Sirius to tell his friends about.

"I suppose Ron's still asleep?" Hermione asked. "Oh well, I wanted to talk to you about something anyway. Let's go get some breakfast and take a walk around the lake."

Harry followed Hermione to the Great Hall, too lost in his own thoughts to notice the perplexed glances Hermione kept throwing his way. He'd never really thought too much about Sirius and Lupin being friends. After his third year, he'd just sort of taken it for granted but now he realized that, after the prank Sirius had played on Snape when they'd all been at school together, Lupin must've felt... betrayed. Hurt. Sirius had nearly turned Lupin into a murderer. Harry wondered how and when Lupin had finally forgiven Sirius-it wasn't the sort of thing that happened overnight. He supposed he'd find out if he kept on with the diary.

Once in the Great Hall, Harry discovered that he was much hungrier than he'd realized. He took his time eating, his eyes scanning the steady stream of incoming students for Susan. It was the first day of Easter hols, and he'd much rather spend it with her than taking a walk with Hermione, who was sure to want to discuss Ginny, Voldemort, the upcoming attack on the school, or some other dire and important thing.

Hermione watched him impatiently as he took his time eating breakfast. Just as he was taking his last bite of egg, Susan walked into the hall with a group of Hufflepuffs, quickly followed by Ron. Harry waved at her but she didn't notice; Hannah Abbott was telling some sort of story. The Hufflepuffs sat at their own table, while Ron slumped into the chair next to Hermione's, looking irritable and glum. Hermione huffed and gave Harry a significant look that clearly said she was miffed at him for dawdling.

Ron didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. "Honestly," he grumbled, beginning to pile his plate high with eggs and bacon, "someone needs to do something about Neville. He snores like a bloody hippogriff. Man can't have a proper sleep with him around!"

"I've never noticed anything," Harry said mildly, staring at the back of Susan's head and wishing she'd turn around. Through the gaps between students, the Slytherin table was clearly visible. Ginny sat in what had become her usual place next to Malfoy, grinning as she talked, gesturing excitedly with her hands. Malfoy's head was cocked toward her as he listened, a small smile playing about his lips. Harry wrenched his eyes away and stared firmly at the table instead. He couldn't even look at her anymore without feeling that confusing rush of conflicting emotions-anger tinged with sadness and regret. He preferred the simplicity of Susan, who never made him feel anything but cheerful and, well, like he wouldn't mind convincing her to skive off to the nearest broom cupboard to snog. She was sweet and nice and calm-everything Ginny was not-and that was just the way he liked it.

"Yeah well," said Ron, talking through a mouthful of eggs, "I can hear him all too well. Wonder if Pomfrey's got anything to cure snoring?"

"It's not a disease, Ron," Hermione said crossly. "And anyway, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey's got much more important things to do than find a cure for snoring, for example-"

But they never got to hear what else the Hogwarts' mediwitch might be working on because at that moment, the post arrived, filling the hall with the sounds of a hundred flapping birds. When Harry looked up, however, the sight that greeted him left him gaping in confusion. There, among the usual flock of owls delivering the mail, were several ugly black birds, each one the size of a Quaffle-crows. The hall fell silent at the caw of the crows, and several students gasped in fear. One first year Hufflepuff screamed, sending a chill up Harry's spine.

"What is it?" Harry whispered to Hermione, who for once looked just as flabbergasted as he felt.

She shrugged. "Dunno. I haven't read anything..." she trailed off and Harry immediately knew why. While the owls had all come and gone in the space of a few minutes, the crows were circling the hall as if searching among the crowd.

"Ron, do you--?" Harry began, but cut himself off at the look on Ron's face. He was pale and trembling, his lips a thin line as he stared up at the birds.

"Please not me, please not me," he whispered. Next to him, Harry saw Neville looking equally pale, as if he were about to be ill.

One of the crows, seemingly having made up its mind, swooped down toward the Hufflepuff table and dropped a parchment roll in front of Susan. As if spurred by their fellow's decisiveness, the rest of the flock followed, dropping scrolls in front of various students. Harry watched Susan's trembling hand reach for her letter but was distracted by a low moan from Ron.

"Oh no, Merlin no," he said, staring at the scroll in front of him. It was tied with a neat black ribbon in a pretty bow; the sight of it filled Harry with an inexplicable dread nevertheless.

"You do it, Harry," Ron said with pleading eyes, pushing the letter across the table toward him. "I can't... please, you do it."

Harry picked up the letter and opened it carefully, wondering what could be so terrible about simple ink and parchment, even as a cold shiver of dread slid down his spine. He spread the letter out and began to read.

"Dear Mr. Weasley-
It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your brother, Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, died last night..."

Harry stopped reading and dropped the letter from his fingers as if it had burned him. Hermione let out a strangled cry and wrapped her arms around Ron in a tight hug. Ron stared into space for a moment, his face completely blank and still, before it seemed to crumple in on itself. Ron clenched his eyes shut and pressed his face into Hermione's neck. Through the gap between Ron and Neville, Harry saw Susan jump from her seat and run out of the Great Hall, quickly followed by Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch- Fletchly.

Harry wanted to run after her too, but just then his vision was blocked by Ginny, who was standing unnoticed behind Ron and Hermione, a letter crushed in her fist. Long, salty streaks ran down her cheeks and each freckle on her face stood out starkly against the ghastly white of her skin. Her eyes flicked from Harry to Ron and back again. Harry could only manage a blank stare, torn between wanting to yell at her and wanting to comfort her. In the end the decision was taken out of his hands by Professor McGonagall, who appeared at the Gryffindor table looking tired and anxious, her face so drawn that Harry was once again reminded of how old she was getting.

"Come with me, children," she said to Ginny and Ron. "You parents are waiting to see you in the Headmaster's office." Harry and Hermione watched them go, Hermione clutching Harry's hand in a painfully tight grip. Several other students filed out of the hall behind Ron and Ginny, ushered by Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened to affect so many students this way. At the head table, Buffy and Willow were arguing in hushed voices, while Professor Sinistra sobbed quietly on Professor Vector's shoulder, a letter clutched in her hand.

"You should've listened to me when you had the chance, Potter," Malfoy's sneering voice interrupted his thoughts. Harry's eyes flicked up to meet Malfoy's cold grey ones and he felt an immediate surge of anger at the total lack of empathy on the other boy's face. "Father always said that you'd meet the same sticky end as your parents someday-I quite hope he's right."

Harry was on his feet in mere seconds, his wand pointing steadily at Malfoy's heart. "My parents died so that I could live," he said hoarsely, "and you-you don't deserve to so much as speak their names!"

Malfoy tsked, brushing non-existent lint off his robes in a deceptively casual motion. "I'd be careful if I were you. The last time you pointed a wand at me, you got a month's worth of detentions."

"I don't care if I get a year's worth!" Harry yelled. "Stay away from us, Malfoy! You come near me or my friends again and so help me-I'll kill you." Harry felt the cool, calm mantle of anger descend upon him like a cloak as he stared unflinchingly into Malfoy's wide eyes. Malfoy believed him, Harry thought, and what was more, Malfoy feared him.

"I may be a Gryffindor," Harry told him in a low, menacing voice, "but don't make the mistake of thinking that means anything, Malfoy. I am not noble or good, and if you give me any reason to think you might be a threat, I will dispose of you using whatever means necessary. A good Slytherin knows there's more than one way to exterminate a rat."

Malfoy gazed at him assessingly before nodding once. "You're quite lucky, Granger," he said, continuing to stare at Harry, "to have a friend so devoted to helping Mudbloods and misfits. I'd watch your step, my dear, because come the first of June, everything's going to change."

That said, Malfoy turned briskly on his heel and swept out of the hall. Harry stared after him, his mind littered with a confusing jumble of thoughts.

"Harry," Hermione whispered frantically, "did he just-"

But Harry held up a hand to quiet her. If he wasn't much mistaken, Malfoy had just told them the date of the planned Death Eater attack on Hogwarts. What was more, Harry had no idea why.

Harry and Hermione stayed in the common room for the rest of the day, getting a start on their holiday work and waiting for Ron to appear. Every few minutes Harry would find himself staring at the portrait entrance to Gryffindor, waiting for it to open and Ron to come through. But hours went by and he didn't return. Harry began to worry that perhaps he wasn't coming back to Gryffindor at all; maybe Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had collected Ron and Ginny from school and taken them home for the break. Or the funeral.

Harry shuddered at the thought. He'd never been to a funeral, but he liked to think the Weasleys would at least want him and Hermione there, at Percy's. The thought made his chest ache-that Percy, who he'd known since his first year at Hogwarts, was dead. He hadn't liked Percy very much, had been more than upset over Percy's estrangement from the Weasleys last year and his accusations about Harry's motives, but even still... it hurt. Harry supposed it never got easier, losing people, regardless of how well or little he knew them. Percy was another person dead because of him, because he wasn't ready to face Voldemort yet.

And Susan... Susan had gotten a letter too. That meant someone in her family was dead, and Susan had already lost so many people. It didn't seem fair for her to lose another, but then Harry had ceased to think of life as fair long ago.

"What do you suppose is keeping them?" Hermione asked, tossing down her quill with a frustrated sigh. "It's been ages since breakfast. I want to know what's happened!"

Harry shoved his fingers through his hair irritably. "We just have to stay calm, Hermione," Harry said, staring blindly down at his Transfiguration essay, of which he'd only managed to write one sentence. "Getting upset isn't going to help anyone, least of all Ron."

"And Ginny," Hermione reminded him. "She's lost a brother too, you know."

Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione's face, radiating disbelief. "Ginny lost all of us months ago, Hermione. She probably doesn't even care."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Harry knew that look-it meant he was in for a lecture whether he liked it or not. "Don't be ridiculous," she hissed. "Of course she cares. Percy's her brother, Harry. Just because she's...doing whatever it is she's doing with Malfoy doesn't mean she's stopped caring about her family."

"Funny," Harry said, his voice tinged with bitterness, "because to me it looks an awful lot like she has. Who knows-maybe she was in on it. Maybe she and Malfoy planned the attack together-"

"Stop!" Hermione cried, dropping her head into her hands, her fingers raking through her hair. "Just stop. Do you honestly believe Ginny capable of betraying her own family like that? Look, Harry, you don't know everything. You don't what she's been going through lately and-"

Hermione's voice cut off abruptly as the portrait hole swing open. Ron and Ginny climbed through, both looking exhausted and drained. Ron's face was pale beneath his freckles and Ginny's was streaked with tear stains. Hermione was out of her seat in a flash, embracing them both in turn before leading Ginny, who looked as if she might collapse at any moment, over to one of the chairs by the fire. Harry approached Ron, wanting to hug his friend, but feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the idea. Harry didn't express emotion easily, and taking the initiative to touch someone else was out of his realm of experience. But Ron took the decision out of his hands by pulling him in for a tight, brief hug.

"God Ron," Harry said when he had pulled away. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

Ron jerked his head toward Hermione and Ginny, walking over to join them. Harry followed, taking the seat next to Ron. When Hermione took Ron's hand in hers and held on tightly, Harry looked away, not wanting to intrude. He knew exactly how Ron was feeling-the guilt, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss-because he had felt it all before, not a year ago when Sirius had fallen through the Veil.

"He's not dead," Ron said after a long moment of silence, startling Harry out of his reverie. Harry met Ginny's eyes and she shrugged, looking away. "The Ministry thought he was, but they managed to revive him at St. Mungo's. Mum and Dad are there now, waiting. He's unconscious and they don't know... they don't know if h-he'll ever w-wake up."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, slipping out her chair to kneel in front of him, taking both his hands in hers. "If anyone can help Percy, it's the Healers at St. Mungo's. Everything will be fine. You'll see." Ron nodded and gave her a shaky smile.

"So... so what now?" Harry blurted out, looking at each of them in turn, feeling slightly panicked by the day's events. He couldn't help but think of Sirius again, picture him falling through the Veil over and over with that surprised look of confusion on his face, hearing Bellatrix Lestrange's victorious laughter as Sirius fell. And Remus holding him back, looking like he wanted to go after Sirius himself more than anything but holding Harry back nonetheless. He's gone. It's too late...

Ginny met his gaze with a lost look in her eyes. "Now we wait."

Harry hated waiting. It felt like last Christmas all over again, waiting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place for news of Mr. Weasley, watching his friends shrink slowly into themselves, deeper and deeper, while he and Sirius exchanged nervous, uncomfortable glances. Sirius wasn't here this time, though, and Harry felt like even more of an outsider, watching Ron and Ginny as if through a thick glass, looking in on their pain.

The two of them, however, seemed content to take their anxiousness out on each other, and by dinner time their brief reconciliation ended in a shouting match the rest of the common room pretended not to notice.

"I don't see why you're even here," Ron said bitterly, glaring at Ginny. "Your Death Eater boyfriend probably told you about the attack ages ago. Or is this just some sort of front you need to put on, to pretend like you care so no one will know what you really are?"

"Ron, don't," Hermione whispered, he fingers tightening around his. "Not now."

"No, Hermione," Ginny said evenly, her eyes locked with Ron's, "let him speak. So-what? You honestly believe I knew about this? That I knew Percy and Dad would be in danger and I didn't say anything because I wanted them to die?"

"Draco Malfoy-"

"Don't talk to me about Draco, Ron!" Ginny said, her voice getting louder. Several people turned to look at them before turning quickly away. Harry found it ironic that the other students thought to protect Ron's and Ginny's privacy when the two of them seemed oblivious. Instead, Ginny's voice only got louder. "You don't know anything about him-about us! So just... just stay out of it! Stay out of my life!"

"You're my sister!" Ron countered, face flushed with anger as he leaned forward in his seat. "If anyone has a right to question what you're doing, it's me! And we all know, Ginny. I don't know how he convinced you to go over to them, but he obviously has and if you can't see what a sneaky, lying bast-"

"Obviously?" Ginny cut him off. "Obviously? You wouldn't know obvious if it bit you!" At this she stood up, glaring down at all of them. "It's obvious to me that none of you have a clue what's really going on in the world, and if you think for one second that I ever could've stood by and let Percy be hurt, than you never knew me at all."

Ginny stormed off to join some of her fourth year friends in the far corner. Hermione turned to Ron with a glare, mouth open and ready to say something, but at the stricken look on Ron's face, seemed to change her mind. "How about a game of chess?" she asked instead.

They waited for what seemed like hours for news of Percy, none of them wanting to leave the common room for dinner in case McGonagall returned with word of him. Harry noticed that sometime during the course of the evening, Ginny had claimed one of the squishy armchairs behind Ron's, very close to them. She sat quietly gazing into the fire with a hollowed-out look on her face, her eyes dark and unfocused. Her legs were folded beneath her, arms wrapped around herself in a protective manner.

Harry wanted to go to her; his anger, which had carried him through from Christmas, had deserted him in the face of Percy's injury. Now he could only see her as a frightened, grieving girl who suddenly seemed very small and very, very alone. Harry had nearly talked himself into going over to her when Dean, deserting his game of Exploding Snap, came to kneel in front of Ginny's chair. He took both of her hands in his, speaking quietly all the while, although Harry couldn't make out his words. They hugged then, Ginny pressing her face against his chest, her hands fisted in the folds of Dean's robes, and Harry forced himself to look away. It was a private moment and none of his business.

When the portrait hole opened long after midnight, it wasn't McGonagall but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who climbed through. Hermione had fallen asleep in her chair, and Ron had to carefully disentangle his fingers from hers before standing and going to them. He and Ginny stood close together with their parents, heads bowed as they listened to softly spoken words while Harry hovered near the fireplace, not sure whether he should leave them be or not. This was a private moment, a family moment, and he found himself looking everywhere except at the Weasleys.

After an uncomfortable moment of trying to figure out what to do, Harry sat back down in the chair next to Hermione, staring intently at his shoes and trying to ignore the murmur of conversation he could hear over the crackling of the fire. The common room was empty aside from the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione, and try as he might, Harry couldn't help but hear some of what they were saying.

"...in stable condition," Mrs. Weasley was saying in a low voice, her arm wrapped around Ginny's shoulders. "It might be a while, but he's going to be alright."

"Bloody hell," Ron said with a relieved sigh. Mrs. Weasley gave him a look of warning but didn't say anything else.

"Can we see him?" Ginny asked, her words muffled as she pressed her face against her mother's shoulder.

"No, dear," Mr. Weasley said gently. "They don't think that's such a good idea just now. And besides, you've got school. O.W.L.s coming up and all that."

"Not for months!" Ginny protested. "I've got plenty of time to study, and anyway a trip to hospital won't take long at all. Dumbledore could portkey us there in a flash."

"That's enough, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "Percy's going to be alright, and you'll see him when it's safe. Now, I think it's high time the two of you were in bed. You too, Harry, Hermione," she added, and Harry's head shot up to look at her, his cheeks staining red with embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to listen," Harry began, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"Nonsense, dear. Now come over here and give me a hug, then all of you up to bed."

After the Weasleys had left, Harry followed Ron up to their dormitory, feeling a heavy weight lifted from his heart. Percy was going to be fine, and that was one less person he hadn't been able to save.

Harry woke up early the next morning and didn't bother waiting for Ron, wanting to get to the great hall as soon as he could in hopes of catching Susan. He hadn't seen her since she'd run out the morning before after getting her own letter, and he'd been worried about her ever since. When he arrived at the hall for breakfast it was practically empty, so he settled at the Gryffindor table to wait, picking listlessly at his food and watching the door carefully in case she showed up.

Susan still hadn't come to breakfast by the time Hermione and Ron joined him. "What's wrong mate?" Ron asked, piling food on his plate. Hermione pulled out a thick tome from her bag and, nibbling on a piece of toast, cocked her head to the side as if waiting for Harry's answer.

"Nothing," Harry said. "Just..." He blushed and took a long drink of pumpkin juice before answering. "Susan," he said finally. "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning. You probably didn't notice but... she got a letter too. Like yours, I mean. And I'm worried about her."

"Of course you are, Harry," Hermione said, peering at him over the top of her book. "Look-there's Ernie MacMillan. You should go ask after her."

Harry felt like a complete idiot for not having thought of that sooner. "Right," he said, gathering up his things. "I'll-thanks, Hermione-I'll see you later, alright?"

Harry was on his way over to the Hufflepuff table before he could even hear her reply. Ernie nodded at him in acknowledgment, a strange, shifty look in his eyes when he saw that Harry was coming over rather than just passing by.

"Oh, hello Harry," he said, gaze focused firmly on the table. "Alright then?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair nervously and tried to catch Ernie's eye. "Not exactly," he said. "I was... look, d'you know where Susan is? It's just, I know she got a... a thing yesterday and I've been worried but Ron... and I couldn't... and I just need to talk to her."

Ernie swallowed and nodded. "Right. Er, well. You'd best hurry up then, because she's set to leave in a quarter hour. She's probably already waiting for the carriage to Hogsmeade."

"Set to...to leave?" Harry said faintly, brow knitted in confusion. "But, where's she going? Not... leaving school? When will she be back?"

"I... you'd better ask her, Harry. And you'd better go now, before she's gone."

Harry didn't respond. He turned on his heel and headed for the entrance hall, rushing past a group of second years just coming in for breakfast and nearly knocking one over in his haste. He reached the entrance hall, panting and desperate to catch Susan before she left, only to find her levitating her trunk down the front stair. He stopped at the foot and waited for her, trying to read her expression and failing miserably; he was never good at that sort of thing, and had never needed to be, not with her.

She looked terrible. Her hair was loose, straggling around her face in a long, frizzy mass, and the delicate skin beneath her eyes was tinged blue, almost bruised-looking, as if she hadn't slept at all. And she was so pale, so listless... Harry had never seen her like this.

"Susan!" Harry said, pulling her into a tight hug when she reached the last stair. He pulled away to look at her properly, brushing the hair away from her face and tucking it gently behind her ears. "What happened? Who...? Ernie said you're leaving?"

Susan nodded silently and took a step backward, wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes filled with tears and her throat worked as she swallowed several times in a row as if she were struggling very hard to get herself under control. Harry waited patiently, wanting to touch her again, to hug her, but not wanting to force himself on her.

"It was... Aunt Amelia," she said finally. "The attack at the Ministry. She was... she's gone. And my parents were... in the first war. She was all I had. So now they've given my cousin guardianship. Aunt Amelia's daughter. But she's... in France. And she doesn't..." Susan bit her lip and looked away. Despite all her efforts, a few tears escaped as she clenched her eyes shut, racing down her cheeks in salty trails. Harry reached over to brush them off but she jerked away from him, shaking her head.

"Don't," she said harshly. "Just... don't. Don't be nice to me right now, alright? I'm leaving! Don't you get that? I'm leaving and I'll probably never see you again, never see my friends again, and my aunt is dead! The one person..."

"I... can't you stay here? It's school... surely you can go to school here as easily as at Beauxbatons. Do you even speak French?" Harry asked desperately. "Maybe... Dumbledore could talk to your cousin?" Watching her, seeing how upset she was, Harry felt panic begin to close around him like a vise. His chest ached and his eyes itched; he needed her, he thought, biting his lip to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling out. Please don't go, don't leave me, I need you... He knew she was probably devastated about her aunt, but all he could really concentrate on was the fact that she was leaving. Leaving him. And she was the only thing that'd made him feel good in... he couldn't even remember how long.

"I can't, Harry," she said, finally looking at him again. She took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to brush his fingers with hers, once, lightly. It wasn't enough for him, but he let it go, tried to concentrate on her words. "She... my cousin thinks it's too dangerous in Britain. And maybe it is. With You Know Who back, and th-that dementor attack earlier in the year, the attacks at Christmas, and now this..." She shook her head. "She wants me where it's safe and right now," she said, her eyes huge and sad in her too pale face, "right now that means being as far away from You Know Who as possible."

Harry nodded, but he didn't understand. He didn't want to. His thoughts swirled around in his brain with no real focus, a confusing mass that left him numb and lightheaded. He could only remember the next few moments in bits and pieces later when he tried very hard to piece it all together: her arms twined around his neck, the brief press of her lips against his, the way they tasted of salt from her tears, the smell of her hair, like lemons. She would owl, she said. And he must've said something in return, because the next thing he knew, he was alone in the entrance hall, feeling lost and confused and very, very alone.

"She's leaving then, eh mate?"

Harry glanced up from his spot on the floor behind a large suit of armor where he'd been sitting for longer than he could recall, trying to piece everything together in his head before he had to face his friends again. Ron needed him now, he knew that, but what good would he be to Ron when all he could think about was the look on Susan's face when she said good-bye? No, it was better to stay out of the way for a bit, collect himself before he went back to the common room.

"Boy wonder!" the person said again, voice sounding annoyingly familiar. "I'm talking to you!"

"What?" Harry croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. "Who's there?"

A figure stepped around the edge of the suit, blocking what little light the tall, high windows of the front entrance let in. "It's me mate, Spike. And look, I don't mean to get down on you or anything, but you look right pathetic sitting here all bad and moody."

"Thanks," Harry said with a glare. "That really helps. All better now!"

"No need to get sarcastic with me," Spike said with a shrug. "Just thought you could use a bit of kick in the arse, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Maybe I do mind," Harry said, scrambling to his feet. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Spike. And anyway what would you know about it? You're just a-"

"Dirty soulless thing?" Spike interrupted with a snort. "Oh I've got a soul, mate, and I wager I paid more for it than any other creature on this rotting shell of a planet. You shouldn't take it for granted."

Harry immediately felt contrite. Spike was trying to help in his way, but Harry was too concerned with himself and his wants and feelings to care that he might be hurting someone else's. Even Spike's.

"I didn't mean-" Harry began, but Spike cut him off.

"Think nothing of it. You're in pain, I get that. Been through it a fair number of times myself, truth be told. You liked the girl. It's crap that she's left. But you didn't love her, did you? And maybe it's better this way. Best let her go now, when she can still be safe, than let her stay and be killed in the battle that's to come."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You think it's my fault, don't you?" he asked wearily. "You think she's better off in bloody France instead of near me, because people close to me..."

Spike sighed and reached into his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "You and the Slayer... you're a lot alike. You've both got shit deals that you didn't choose and you're both so bloody stubborn and honor-bound that you can't just run when you sodding well should. And yeah, with a destiny like that, people are going to die. But I've been the big bad enough to know that it's not you that killing them, mate. It's the evil on the other side."