Burn

Chapter 3 - Lost

'I cannot stand still.

I can't be this unsturdy.

This cannot be happening.

This is over my head, but underneath my feet

Because by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat

And everything will be back to the way that it was

I wish that it was just that easy.'

- Lifehouse 'Somewhere In Between'

***

Right about the time Draco Malfoy was dealing with the shock of having woken up in the Hogwarts Infirmary after being unconscious for three days following an incident he couldn't recall, Harry Potter was staring moodily out of his window into the back garden of twelve Grimmauld Place. Mrs Weasley had informed him in her no-nonsense 'Mum' tone that for the second year running he would not be able to visit Diagon Alley for his own school supplies.

'It isn't safe for you, Harry,' she had said.

'But-' he began to protest but was cut off.

'Now, don't worry, I shall go along with Ron and Hermione and get your things. Just give me a list of whatever you need and your Gringotts key,' Mrs Weasley steamed along, not knowing that she was fuelling Harry's ire.

'Ron and-' he was incredulous. His best friends must have known in advance that he wouldn't be allowed to go; yet, they had said nothing when he was outlining his plans for their Diagon Alley trip.

'They're getting ready,' said Mrs Weasley, jumping to conclusions. 'Why don't you go on and make me that list?' and then she had turned and left the kitchen to yell at Ron, Ginny and Hermione to hurry up or else they'd be left behind.

Harry had turned and trudged up the stairs desolately, making a point to ignore Ron as he exited his room and passed Harry in the hallway. He had then decided the view of the back garden was much more enthralling than composing a list of his necessities.

Ever since his arrival at Gimmauld Place three days past, Harry had kept a tight leash on his emotions and everyone else had carried on as normal. Well, as normal as you can when you're hiding out in a super-secret, highly-unplottable, ancient house complete with a skulking house elf and screaming portrait while plotting the demise of the Dark Lord everyone refused to believe was back. Even after the events at the Ministry earlier this year, there were people doubting the validity of the claims that Voldemort had returned.

Harry wasn't going to volunteer anything to suggest otherwise; both on the Dark Lord front and on his own personal state. His initial remark of 'oh, how very quaint' had been received as if he was seriously thrilled about the welcoming and not being sarcastic about it all. Harry had goggled at the partygoers after they had cheered upon his statement and then realised that he had expected them to notice. They hadn't cared all summer; the last owl he had received from either of his supposed best friends had been to inform him of their OWL grades and to wish him a happy birthday - and that had been three weeks before he had been brought here.

For a moment, Harry had contemplated telling them about the prophecy but eventually found he couldn't bring himself to do it. His friends had changed. He barely knew them anymore. They sat with him at breakfast, Ron played chess with him, Hermione mothered him, but he didn't feel as if they were the same special trio they had been the five years past. Apparently, over the summer, Ron and Hermione had become much closer in his absence, exchanging their many fights for kisses instead. They still fought daily though, and every time they did, they would come running to Harry individually to moan and to bug him until he gave in and promised to speak to the other. Truth be told, Harry didn't care what happened between them.

In an odd moment of clarity, Harry mused that maybe it wasn't his friends that had changed - maybe it was him. But then again, knowing that you were either on this Earth on borrowed time or destined to be a murderer entitled him to change somewhat.

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

The prophecy flashed through Harry's thoughts once more and he winced. Thinking about it was painful, as it brought back memories of the Ministry Event, as Harry had begun to call it. He narrowed his eyes. Ever since the Event, the Order members had been rather quiet as to any new information concerning Voldemort's activities and whereabouts. In fact, now that he thought about it, Mr Weasley and Remus were the only members who had been in his company for more than five minutes the last few days. He had had a fleeting impression of Tonks and Kingsley as they breezed to and from work; Bill had bought his own flat in Wizarding London and for the time being Charlie was kipping there too. Fred and George, though not Order members, now lived in the comfy flat above their shop in Diagon Alley and he hadn't the foggiest idea where Moody, Mundungus and the others were. Nor had he seen hide or hair of Snape or Dumbledore, not that either of their presences was wanted much by Harry at the moment. The way they were all so obviously avoiding him had to mean something.

Either that or the summer imprisonment at the Dursley's was affecting his brain.

As this thought passed through Harry's mind, he heard footsteps and scuffling in the hallway just outside his room, followed by a resounding CRASH. He sighed heavily as he heard Mrs Black begin her usual pureblood tirade, but otherwise remained staring out of the window. He'd leave the people who woke her to sort her out.

'TRAITORS! HALF-BREEDS! BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS -'

'Ron!' screeched Hermione, as she bent to help Ginny off of the floor where Ron had come barraging into her on his way to Harry's room.

'It's not my fault!' protested Ron. 'She was just standing there!'

'I may have just been standing there as you put it, but that doesn't mean you can't say EXCUSE ME!' yelled Ginny, rubbing her bruised rear. She had been knocked into the umbrella stand that Tonks was prone to trip over and one of the umbrella handles had poked her quite hard.

'RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!' came the shout from down below. 'YOU APOLOGISE TO YOUR SISTER RIGHT NOW!'

Ginny looked smugly at him, arms crossed in front of her chest. Hermione mirrored her pose next to her. All the while Mrs Black was still screeching.

'FILTH! SCUM! MUTANTS! TRAITORS TO THE NOBLE HOUSE OF -'

'AND SHUT THAT BAT UP!' came Mrs Weasley's voice from below again.

Harry then heard some more scuffling and muttered oaths, a moment of silence and then footsteps leading to his room.

'Harry? Mate? Mum says she wants your list.' Ron came tentatively into his room, rapping softly on the door as he did so. Harry glanced over at him, but otherwise did not move from his perch. Seeing this, Ron continued. 'You're not angry with us are you? I wanted to tell you that Mum had said she wasn't going to allow you to come but Hermione said -'

'No, I'm not angry, Ron.' Harry cut him off, not wanting to hear their excuses. In all honesty, he wasn't angry, just resigned. He should have expected this.

'Oh, good,' Ron breathed, and an awkward silence filled the air. Harry remained motionless, still staring out of the window while Ron stood just inside the door; hands clasped together and nervously shuffling his feet. 'Erm, the list?' Ron ventured after a few moments.

Harry sighed and reluctantly rose from his position. Hunting around the room for the jeans he had worn the day of his arrival, he pulled the equipment list he had shoved into his pocket out and flattened it on the desk. Glancing around the room, he found a quill and scribbled down a few more items. Quills, ink, potions stock, some new robes (both school and dress ones), some decent clothes that fit for once. A bit of gold, some owl treats for Hedwig and a few sweets to tide him over until the first Hogsmeade visit. Contemplating for a moment, Harry went back and erased 'new clothes'. He didn't even want to think what Mrs Weasley would have brought back for him; the safest option would be to tell Hermione instead. Ron peered over his friends shoulder.

'Magical Alchemy, Harry? You're doing Advanced Potions then? Oh, I don't envy you mate!' Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as Harry straightened up. 'I am so glad I don't have to put up with that grease spot for another two years, even if he is on our side. I don't think Hermione's doing it either,' Ron continued, crushing Harry's earlier hope, as they exited the room and made their way downstairs. 'But, the Ferret most likely will be doing it, so...' Ron trailed off and fixed his friend with a sympathetic look.

'Malfoy will be doing what?' Hermione joined the conversation as they drew close to where she was waiting in the hallway. She took Harry's list from him and cast her eye over it, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

'Advanced Potions,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'Hermione, I'm sixteen. No need to keep checking everything I do!'

'What?' Hermione asked, so used to looking after her two best friends that she hadn't realised what she was doing.

'You're checking my shopping list!' Harry exclaimed. She made to protest but Harry waved it off. 'Never mind. Hermione, can I ask you a favour?'

'Sure.'

'Can you get me some new clothes?'

Ron crowed. 'Ah ha! Something you're not telling us Harry? Who's the lucky girl, eh? Getting back with Cho?' Hermione grinned at him from her position next to her boyfriend.

Harry lightly punched Ron on the arm. 'Do I have to have someone in mind before wanting to change out of Dudley's cast offs?' he asked, mildly offended.

'He's not denying it! It is Cho, isn't it? Oh, I know, it's Lavender!' Ron tittered in mirth at the thought. Now it was Hermione's turn to sock Ron on the shoulder.

'Leave off him, Ron, he'll tell us when he's ready. Right, Harry?' She turned to him then, and despite her light tone, Harry could tell she was asking seriously. He narrowed his eyes. Maybe someone had noticed after all.

'Er... yeah. Right. So, will you?' he changed the subject quickly. Not that there was a subject, he wasn't ever going to be getting back with Cho even if she danced seductively before him clad only in a Wonder Woman costume. Nor did he have any other girl in mind; he thought them too much trouble than they're worth at this point in time.

'Of course. What do you need?' Hermione asked, drawing a quill and ParchPad out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

'Jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, that kind of thing.' Harry shrugged. New clothes were new clothes, right? 'Maybe some new boots to go with dress robes and a pair of trainers, size eight,' he added.

'Uh huh...any underwear?' Hermione asked as she scribbled away furiously. Harry and Ron both spluttered.

'You're going to buy him underwear?' goggled Ron.

'Hermione!' exclaimed Harry at the same time, mortified.

'What? It's not like I'll ever see you in them for God's sake, I just thought you might need some new ones!' she said hotly. 'Boys!' she muttered under her breath as she put her quill and ParchPad away.

Mrs Weasley chose that moment to enter the hallway, dressed in her red summer robe, Ginny in tow. 'Right troops, everyone ready? Harry, got your list for me? Ron dear, do go and comb you're hair once more, you're not coming with scruffy hair like that!' She said this in her usual one hundred-miles-an-hour tone, all the while fussing at the children before her: a hand through Harry's untameable locks, a quick adjustment of Hermione's bag strap and brushing off of invisible lint from Ginny's robe.

Ron rolled his eyes at his Mum's back and trudged off towards the kitchen, where he was sure he had spotted a comb somewhere. 'I saw that, Ronald Weasley! Don't cheek your Mother!' Mrs Weasley barked after him. Hermione and Ginny suppressed giggles, while Harry smirked openly. Taking the list from Hermione, he passed it on to Mrs Weasley as well as the Gringotts key he'd fished out from his pocket. He didn't know which vault it was, his or Sirius's, but the money was all the same and Mrs Weasley could sort it out at Gringotts, whatever.

'Now, Harry, just in case we're not back in time, there's some sandwiches in the fridge and some pumpkin juice as well. Remus said he might drop by later, so I made some extra. I think Kreacher is still upstairs in the attic, I haven't seen him all day, but keep an eye out, eh?' Mrs Weasley briefed him as they waited for Ron. 'And don't get into any mischief while we're out!' she added.

Harry nodded politely while quelling the urge to roll his eyes like Ron. Who was he meant to do mischief with, the curtains in the living room? Anyway, his plans for the day involved some serious moping in his bedroom and maybe some more reading of James and the Giant Peach. He had got as far as chapter seven; when James and his Aunts were watching the peach grow and grow and grow.

'Sorry, Harry,' whispered Ginny, while her Mum had gone after Ron, yelling at him for taking his sweet time. 'I knew you wanted to come, I'll see if I can get an ice cream or something for you, eh?'

'Thanks, Ginny. Tell the twins I said hi.' Harry said. He appreciated the gesture but it still didn't make up for missing out on the trip. He had been looking forward to visiting Fred and George's joke shop; they had only managed to afford it due to him and his Triwizard winnings after all.

Hermione came over and squeezed his fingertips. 'We'll talk when I get back, okay, Harry?' she promised. Harry was saved from replying as Mrs Weasley came back down the hallway with Ron in front of her. She ushered her charges out of the door quickly and with a few 'goodbye!'s' the house was silent once more.

***

'We believe you're suffering from shock-induced amnesia,' Dumbledore informed Draco, while Snape stood smirking just to his right. Madam Pomfrey looked on at him with a mixture of pity and concern.

'Amna what?'

'Amnesia,' drawled Snape.

'Oh, Merlin, I'm dying aren't I? I was right!' Draco cried. 'You kidnapped me from my bed to hold me until I told you, I don't know, sordid Death Eater secrets maybe? But instead of keeping me knocked out and unaware you've managed to poison me!'

Snape groaned, Madam Pomfrey clucked but Dumbledore chuckled. He chuckled. 'Now now dear boy, I don't doubt that with your father's, ahem, position and your intelligence that you do know a fair few 'sordid Death Eater secrets' as you so aptly put it, but why would I feel the need to kidnap you and keep you unconscious in order to extract said secrets from you?'

Draco considered Dumbledore's words and then coloured slightly. The headmaster was right, the scheme he had just indignantly outlined had so many holes in it that it would be useless even as a sieve. 'Then how else is it that I am dying?' he demanded in an attempt to save face, but was highly alarmed by the prospect.

'When did we say you were dying Mister Malfoy?' Snape queried mildly. Draco furrowed his brow in thought. Come to think of it... they hadn't.

'What's that amna-thingy then?'

'Amnesia,' Madam Pomfrey said once more. 'You're mind has actively blocked out the events between your sleeping and your waking, possibly as a defence mechanism.'

'Defence mechanism?' Draco was beginning to wish he hadn't woken up at all.

'Sometimes, the brain decides that knowing something will be too much for you to handle so blocks it out to keep you from suffering. Or, decides that you're not ready to know what it is you're blocking out. It's a common affliction in Muggles and wizards alike,' Madam Pomfrey informed him.

'Affliction?' Draco felt like a human echo but he couldn't help himself. 'Then cure me! Surely there's a cure?'

Madam Pomfrey looked at him with sympathy clear in her eyes. Snape stood as he was, smirking at him, while Dumbledore's twinkle disappeared once more.

'Unfortunately not, Draco,' began Dumbledore. 'Amnesia is a state of mind, it isn't a magical malady or a physical wound, so there isn't a magical cure.'

'No cure!' The hysteria was staging a comeback. 'But then how am I meant to remember?'

'It will come to you over time, as your brain decides to break the barrier down. This can take many years, but there are exercises you can do in order to try and decrease the time it may take,' said Madam Pomfrey gently, mindful of Draco's fears.

'Years? You can't be serious! But-'

'Yes we know, Draco, you don't have years,' interrupted Dumbledore. 'We've decided not to tell your Mother you are here, as there is no knowing what it is you have blocked out. In the meantime, get plenty of bed rest. When Madam Pomfrey deems fit you may leave the infirmary and aid Professor Snape in his preparations for the new school year. You will also have unrestricted access to the library, only until school starts you understand, so that you may research your condition.' Dumbledore took a breather then. He looked as if he wanted to say more but then thought better of it. 'On that note, we shall take our leave. Good day, Draco. Try not to worry too much.' He turned towards the door, motioning to Snape and Madam Pomfrey to join him.

'But what about a Pensieve?' Draco said quickly, before the headmaster left the room. 'Couldn't I extract what I've forgotten into one of them?'

Dumbledore turned back to look at him. 'Alas, Draco. In order to store a memory into a Pensieve, it has to be just that - a memory. At the moment, your memories are hidden from you and unless you know them yourself you cannot put them into a Pensieve,' he said with a sad inflection on his tone. 'Don't worry, Draco, they'll come to you when you're ready,' said the elder wizard as he left the room.

'Mister Malfoy,' nodded Snape, as he followed Dumbledore. He had been uncharacteristically silent for the last few minutes of the conversation.

Madam Pomfrey however, was not quite finished with her patient. 'Now, drink this up, Dear,' she said, handing him yet another steaming goblet. 'It's a dreamless sleep potion to help you get the rest you need.'

Draco, in no state to argue at the moment after the news he had just received, took the goblet mechanically and drained it in one go. He was asleep before the matron had even left the room.

***

Remus Lupin stood just outside the Infirmary door, his werewolf senses allowing him to hear every word being spoken inside as clearly as if he were standing right next to the speaker. He heard Dumbledore turn to exit the Infirmary and so took a polite step back. Shortly after, the door opened to reveal Snape and Dumbledore, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey.

'Ah, Remus, glad to see you made it,' greeted Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey echoed the sentiment while Snape merely nodded out of courtesy in his direction with a muttered 'Lupin.' Remus nodded at everyone in return.

'Sherbet Lemon anyone?' offered Dumbledore, fishing a bag of the boiled sweets out of the folds of his robes. His companions politely declined the sour sweets. The Headmaster had the oddest penchant for the sharp-flavoured bonbons.

'Dumbledore, I believe Harry is alone back at Headquarters. What was the pressing matter that couldn't wait?' Remus didn't wish to stay at Hogwarts longer than necessary. He had a fair idea what this meeting was about after hearing the conversation through the closed Infirmary doors but he wasn't going to let on that he had heard.

'It would seem our young guest is suffering from a spot of amnesia,' said Dumbledore pleasantly, as if he was commenting on the weather. Remus raised an eyebrow at the tone - and then promptly thought better of it. Who ever knew what was going on in Dumbledore's head?

'He has no idea why he came back early?' he queried, trying to act surprised. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him, letting him know that the headmaster wasn't fooled; he knew that Remus had heard every word.

'How nice of you point out the obvious Lupin,' drawled Snape sarcastically. 'The problem now is that whatever the motivation of Draco's early arrival, it has something to do with his father. Apparently, Lucius has escaped from Azkaban, but no one has seen fit to inform us,' spat Snape, his hatred for the Ministry clear.

'Lucius isn't the only one involved,' piped up Madam Pomfrey. 'Draco has had fevered dreams, calling out for his mother from time to time but also screaming 'what are you doing to her?' I imagined he was talking to Lucius concerning Narcissa but then he would also mumble 'Voldemort' and 'Imitari' in quick succession.'

Her companions frowned. 'Imitari? Have you heard of a spell or charm involving imitari?' questioned Remus.

'I'd have to say, only as part of an obscure Replicater incantation,' said Snape slowly.

'Voldemort and Replicater? I didn't think that spell was used anymore.' Remus was perplexed.

Dumbledore merely stared at a spot on the wall behind Remus's head, a far away look in his eyes. Ignoring the question completely he finished with 'Remus, I do believe you said Harry is alone. We shall have to continue this conversation another time. Severus, would you be so kind as to prepare some private chambers for Draco and Poppy, please keep us apprised of his condition and anything else he may say. For now, I'm going to do some research of my own.' With a nod of his head Dumbledore walked away leaving his companions feeling wholly unsatisfied with the conversation.

***

Narcissa came to consciousness gradually, unsure where she was. It appeared as if she was lying on her back in a hole, viewing the world above her at a great distance. She tried to bring her hand up to her chest to cradle the aching flesh there, but found she couldn't move. She tried the other arm and still got no response. Attempting to look either side of her, she realised that even moving her neck was a no-go. Desperately, she tried to remember how she had arrived in this position.

She had been packing her bag, intending to visit her sister for a while, when Lucius had come to her room. He brought someone with him, covered and cloaked. The stranger had given Narcissa a feeling of unease and when the hood was thrown back, that feeling had intensified a thousand fold. It was Voldemort.

He had spoken to her then, in soft tones while running his cold, cold hands across the smooth satin of her cheek. Narcissa had tried not to show revulsion at the touch; it was instinctive after years of hiding her emotions. But not quite. Somehow, Voldemort had known what she was really feeling and had backhanded her across the face, hard enough to jerk her head. She righted herself, fury sparkling in her eyes, face defiant as she held one hand to her reddening cheek. No longer afraid, she ordered Voldemort from her room.

But he hadn't gone. Instead he had laughed, turned to Lucius and proclaimed her perfect. Lucius then smiled, a horrible evil smile, and called more people to her room. The newcomers, also heavily robed but Death Eaters no doubt, picked her up as if she weighed nothing and took her kicking and screaming towards the Library. Her aristocratic 'cool under pressure' upbringing forgotten, she had clawed and scratched at her captors, in the hopes of wounding one of them enough to make him drop her. Voldemort and Lucius were following behind.

'I always knew there was a wild cat beneath the surface, Lucius. My my, how passionate she is!' Voldemort had smirked. Lucius, her husband, merely smirked back as he watched his wife being carried to the dungeons, tied to a stone table and stripped naked in front of the large gathering.

Cold and scared, she had lain on the table not knowing that what was coming was going to be much worse than what had passed. The Death Eaters lined the room and put on their masks, waiting silently for an order from their Master. Lucius took his mask out also, but cast it to one side. He undid his robe and climbed atop of the table to straddle her while the Dark Lord looked on, holding a steaming goblet. Taking this from his Master he forced Narcissa to drink the vile tasting liquid, pulling her head back and pinching her nose until she had no choice but to swallow.

'You should be honoured, Narcissa,' Lucius had then hissed in her ear as he leaned over her, propped up on his elbows. 'You are clearly privileged that the Lord has seen fit to forgive your past transgressions and chosen you to be The One.'

His words had cut through the fear straight to her ire. Eyes flashing once more, knowing she had nothing to lose she spat in Lucius's face and snarled 'You're truly sick, Lucius Malfoy. May you live a cursed life from now on!' Not pleased at her words, Lucius moved quickly and bit her breast, hard enough to draw blood to the surface. Narcissa cried out from the pain. At the head of the table, looking down at the spectacle before him stood Voldemort, smirking. Lucius lifted his head to look at the Dark Lord, and appeared to nod.

'Crucio.'

Pain unlike any she had ever felt erupted inside of her. She was half aware of Lucius slipping into her unprepared but the pain of that was insignificant. Feeling as if her bones were grinding together and bending into impossible shapes, she screamed like she had never screamed before. She could feel the ropes holding her wrists down biting into the vulnerable skin, the table chafing the skin from her heels, buttocks and back where they rubbed against the unyielding stone. Then, just as she thought she was about to pass out from the pain, it all stopped.

Panting in the aftermath, she could do nothing but close her eyes as she felt Lucius explode inside her. If anything, that was a hundred times worse than the pain she had endured under the curse. Whimpering softly, she felt Lucius leave her and climb down from the table.

Voldemort had addressed his Death Eaters then. She couldn't recall what he had said, as she had been floating in and out of consciousness at the time, but she had known when he was finished. The masked men lining the room began to chant and Lucius moved to the head of the table, exchanging places with the Dark Lord. Voldemort took position where Lucius had been only minutes before: straddling her legs, propped on his hands as he leaned over her, positioned to enter the vulnerable part of her body. Ruthlessly, he plunged in and somehow she found the strength to scream once more.

Almost beyond the pain now, she could do no more than moan and roll her head from side to side as he took her violently. The chanting in the room got louder and louder until for the second time that night she felt the sick feeling of unwanted release flood her lower body. This time however, there seemed to be an intense burning starting from her crotch that travelled like wildfire to her brain. Snapping her head back she screamed once more, and then passed from consciousness completely.

And now she found herself in her room unable to use any of her limbs and corresponding muscles. She tried to sit up, but her body refused to co-operate. In desperate need of a shower, she then attempted to summon a house elf to her bedside to aid her into the bathroom - and promptly found that her facial muscles were also out of her control.

***

A short while after leaving Hogwarts, Remus was walking slowly up Grimmauld Place towards Order headquarters wondering whether he should tell Harry of Draco Malfoy's predicament. Harry had a right to know, he mused, if it might be related to the Dark Lord. Forewarned is forearmed after all.

Remus frowned in thought. Harry had been withdrawn and sullen ever since he had arrived here, speaking only when spoken to. He wasn't rude or sarcastic, merely keeping to himself. The Harry he had taught three years ago had worn his heart on his sleeve, all of his feelings and thoughts were clearly visible on his face. Now, Harry had become blank, as if he had no need for feelings anymore. He had barely spoken to anyone about the Ministry Event before the Dursleys took him away for the holidays. Also, despite his daily owls being full of information about his day, they contained nothing as to his emotions. They were all very clinical in nature: I did this and then I was told to do that so I did that as well and then I went and did the other...

Remus doubted that he was the only who had noticed the change in Harry, he had noticed surreptitious glances from Hermione in Harry's direction over the last couple of days. But other than the naturally observant girl no one else seemed to have paid Harry any mind, carrying on as if everything was normal.

Inside Headquarters, Harry was lounging in the swinging chair on the patio, leaning back against one of the sides. One leg trailed off of the chair to push periodically at the floor to keep the soothing rocking motion of the swing steady, the other was raised on the seat, on which he leaned his book. With the others and Mrs Weasley out, Harry had been left to his own devices. Deciding to take advantage of the summer sunshine, he had taken his book out onto the patio. He had been sitting in the pleasant breeze reading for a good half an hour (he had reached the point where James was helping to relieve Centipede of his many boots) when the doorbell rang. Putting his book down, Harry re-entered the house and cautiously approached the front door. This place might be unplottable and under the Fidelius charm but that hadn't stopped Voldemort in the past. He had been mildly surprised when he had learnt that even though it was deemed unsafe for him to go Diagon Alley, they were alright with leaving him home alone. Peering through the peephole Harry sighed in relief when he saw Remus waiting on the other side. Pulling back the deadbolts, he opened the door to admit welcome relief from boredom.

'Afternoon, Remus,' he greeted mildly, waiting for his guest to divest himself of his summer cloak and hang it on the peg just inside the door.

'Hello, Harry. Molly been gone long?' responded Remus.

'About half an hour or so,' replied Harry, turning to return to the patio. He volunteered no more information.

'What have you been doing in the meanwhile?' Remus questioned as he followed Harry into the backyard.

'Reading.'

'Oh? Anything in particular?' he queried politely as Harry settled himself on the porch swing once more. Remus sat down at the other end. This was going to be like pulling teeth, he mused, especially if Harry kept up with the short sharp answers.

'James and the Giant Peach.'

Remus frowned as the title rang a distant bell. 'Sounds vaguely familiar.'

'It's a Muggle children's story book, I doubt you'd have heard of it before,' said Harry with a hint of scorn.

'No, no I have... wait, it'll come to me...' Remus muttered as he wracked his brains. 'James... peach... that's it! I remember, Lily had that book with her all the time she was at Hogwarts. Said it was her favourite book.'

Harry turned incredulous eyes to Remus. 'It was? She did?'

'Oh yes. She would love to curl up with it near the fire in the common room quite often. James used to ask her why she used to re-read that particular book so many times and you know what she said?' Remus could gradually see Harry's cool demeanour slip away as was told of his parents.

'What?'

'She said it gave her hope,' Remus said simply.

'Hope?' Harry had yet to finish the story so was unsure as to what his Mum might have meant.

'I never read the story myself, but one day she sat with me and outlined James's life. She said 'if James can escape from his wicked Aunt's clutches in a giant peach then there's always hope our own giant peach will come along one day to save us from Voldemort.'' Remus paused for a moment to sweep his gaze over the boy in front of him. Harry may have facial hair and a burden on his shoulders large enough for two grown men but he was no more than a young boy having to grow up too fast. The black haired youth sat silently on the swing, both knees drawn up to his chest, arms curled tight around them and his chin resting on the top. 'Up until that day, Harry, she never gave up believing,' Remus finished softly. The day he was referring to needed no further clarification.

'Hope,' Harry whispered on an exhale. The word was so quietly spoken that Remus thought he was imagining things.

'Harry, I know things seem bleak. I know you have more worries then you ever should. But never give up hope; it's the one thing that keeps the world functioning,' Remus spoke softly, trying to reach the Harry he had once known.

'Hope,' Harry said once more, louder this time. Remus' words seem to have sparked something within him, something he had kept buried all summer. 'I have hope Remus. Don't doubt me, I do. Hope that one day I will get what I am owed.'

'Owed, Harry?' Remus echoed mildly, raising one eyebrow.

'Owed. This entire world, the wizard portion that is, all think they know me. All think they know what I like, what I eat, what I do, what I feel. All because I was marked. I'm owed for the grief that has caused. I'm owed for the mark. I'm owed for my parents, I'm owed for Sirius.' Harry exploded. Unable to sit still any longer he got up off of the swing and paced in front of Remus. 'He took my parents away he took Sirius away. He's taking my identity away damn it! I'm a prisoner in my own house, unable to leave just in case he wants to try something!'

Remus had no doubts as to who 'he' was.

'But you know what?' Harry continued. 'I'm not scared of him; I know what's coming. It's either me or him, Remus, and I've accepted that. Why can't everyone else get it?'

'Wait, wait a second. What do you mean 'me or him'?' Remus questioned, confused. Harry was beginning to talk in riddles.

'That blasted prophecy! What else do you think I mean?' cried Harry. All the emotion he had kept tightly locked away was flooding out and he'd lost the stopper holding it in. He hadn't meant to mention the prophecy but it slipped out in the heat of the moment.

'What prophecy?' Remus asked, striving for calm.

'The one that Voldemort wanted me to get from the Department of Mysteries!'

Suddenly, clarity hit Remus like a ten-ton weight. He hadn't realised that Dumbledore had finally told Harry. 'Dumbledore told you?' he asked softly.

Harry wheeled round to stare at Remus. 'You KNEW? You knew about it and DIDN'T TELL ME?' He was furious. 'I trusted you! You and Sirius, you were my family! DID HE KNOW AS WELL?' Harry bellowed.

'We wanted to tell you Harry!' defended Remus, rising from his position to stand in front of the irate boy. 'I told Dumbledore as soon as I heard about it when I came to teach at Hogwarts, I told him to tell you then Harry!'

'BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOURSELF WHEN YOU KNEW DUMBLEDORE HADN'T?' Harry was seeing red.

'Because it wasn't my place to tell you! In fact, it was Sirius' place to tell you but Dumbledore forbade him from doing so!' Remus was close to shouting now.

'THAT'S NEVER STOPPED EITHER OF YOU BEFORE! YOU WERE THE GREAT MARUADERS AFTER ALL! SINCE WHEN DID YOU OBEY YOUR PROFESSORS?'

'SINCE IT COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOU KILLED!' roared Remus, equally as annoyed now.

'MY NOT KNOWING DID GET SIRIUS KILLED!' hollered Harry. As he spoke the words that felt as if they had been ripped from his heart, the fight left him. 'Sirius is dead Remus, half because of my love of 'playing hero', half because I wasn't in full possession of the facts.' He spoke more softly now, eyes downcast. 'He's gone.' Harry could feel his eyes welling up with unshed tears but he resolutely wiped them away before they could spill over.

Remus' heart ached for the boy in front of him. The loss of Sirius was also raw in his own heart; all of his childhood friends were now either dead, or dead to him. 'I know, Harry,' he said, in an equally soft tone. 'I know and it's alright to grieve.' Taking Harry in his arms, he cradled the youth's head to his chest as Harry finally let out the anguish he had been keeping inside all these months. He felt Harry's hot tears soak his shirtfront, and the harsh uncontrollable sobs that caused his body to jerk as Remus held him. The naked emotion pouring out of Harry released his own tears and together they sank to the grass, the elder wizard still cradling Harry to his chest as they cried out their heartache in the sunshine they couldn't feel.

***