The Joining of the Three

Chapter 7

Harry rolled his head and shifted as best he could in the uncomfortable chair, grateful that he'd been strapped to a recliner instead of a straight-backed chair. He hadn't yet lost the feeling in his legs because he kept arching and flexing his feet, but he still felt as if his bottom had sprouted roots into the chair's seat.

As the room was completely windowless, he had no idea what time it was, or even what day. Based on the number of meals he'd been fed, though, it had been at least a week. The only thing he knew with any clarity was that he was stuck here, wherever here was; and it was time to start using that to his advantage.

Over the past week, Harry had discovered something about his captor that startled him, although it probably shouldn't have. The man was completely mad, almost maniacally so. Every time his captor visited him, he talked constantly. But it went beyond mere discussion and bordered on boasting. At first, Harry had been too angry and distressed to give the man a proper audience. Now, however, he was resolved to engage him in conversation and keep him talking as long as possible. With any luck, the man's boasting would cause him to divulge his plan or, baring that, the reasons behind it.

Almost as if on cue, the door opened, but it wasn't him. It was her...his blonde helper. The same woman that had given a show at Hogwarts and, presumably, the same one that had attacked Ginny and the other pregnant witches throughout Britain. She'd been coming in at regular intervals to bring him food and drink, but she had yet to speak. Harry kept trying anyway.

"Hello," he croaked out, his throat dry from lack of use.

No answer…not that he really expected one.

"What's your name?" he asked, taking a different tack from his usual questions about his current location.

"Renae," she answered, her voice just above a whisper, eyes meeting his for the first time. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a plea for help in them. He mentally shook his head; he was probably imagining things.

"Renae, can you help me get out of here?" Harry asked, matching her quiet tone.

Renae didn't answer. Instead, she picked up the soup spoon and began offering Harry great spoonfuls of a wonderful chicken concoction. Once he'd finished with his food, Renae stood to leave and he called her back.

"Can you at least bring me my wand? It's got to be here somewhere."

She again remained silent, but she stared at him with an intensity he didn't much care for. Suddenly, her eyes widened and he though he saw a ghost of a smile, but it was gone before he could comment. Renae straightened into an almost military stance when the man opened the door and strode through it. "Has he been fed?" he asked her.

"Yes, Sabastian," she said meekly. She flinched at the scowl he gave her and she very nearly scurried from the room.

"So how are we today?" Sabastian, asked conversationally.

"Right as rain," Harry said, matching his tone as best he could.

Sabastian chuckled with no trace of humor. "Yes, well. Sorry about the poor accommodations. Not a lot I can do about that. Renae says it will only be a matter of days, two weeks at the most until the baby comes, then I will let you go."

Harry felt fury rise within him and fought to keep his face blank. During his first encounter with Sabastian, he'd said he wasn't after their child. If the child he was after would be born that soon, that meant he wasn't concerned with Draco and Ginny's child either since Ginny and Hermione were due at roughly the same time. That left only one option. He must be after Ron and Mariah's. His temper began to boil, blood pumping madly in his veins at the threat directed at his best friend.

"Don't suppose I could get into a more comfortable position, could I?" Harry tried desperately to keep any measure of emotion from his words. If he was going to get any useful information, he would have to keep Sabastian talking. Losing his temper while strapped to a chair would accomplish nothing.

"Sorry." His face smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "Afraid I don't quite trust you to not try and get away. It would put quite a damper on my plan if there were two Harry Potters running around Hogwarts. No," he muttered to himself, "can't have that."

Harry puzzled over that strange comment, but as no further information seemed forthcoming, he took another track.

"What exactly is your plan?" Harry asked casually.

"I'm so glad you asked. Renae suits my purpose, but she doesn't get the finer points of a well thought out agenda. The subtlety of it, the little intricacies that tend to go unnoticed by those not properly attuned to the greatness surrounding them."

Harry would have laughed at the man's pomposity, but restrained himself. So, he thought, we can add delusions of grandeur to mental instability. "I can see where that would be a bother. Maybe you can answer a question that's been on my mind for a while, though. Was it you that sent me the scroll?"

The dark frown that suddenly altered the smooth face unnerved Harry. The mask of calm covering Sabastian's features disappeared. Now, he could see the face of true insanity beneath it.

"Yes." He said it stiffly and without inflection. "I'm still not entirely sure why the Ministry didn't act on that immediately," Sabastian muttered, stalking around the room like a soldier. "It didn't matter as much as long as I had the woman contained, but that scroll should have ensured that she wouldn't get far if she did escape. The Minister of Magic is supposed to be a very cautious fellow. I was positive that he'd detain all pregnant witches in case a Daemonica was indeed imminent."

Harry was too smart to mention that, as far as he knew, the Minister of Magic hadn't even known of the scroll's existence. Or that if he was informed, he had been told it was in all likelihood a fake.

"But it all turned out as I planned, regardless," Sabastian turned his disarming smile back on Harry. "You're here. He's there. And the baby will be born in a matter of days."

"Who's this 'he' you mentioned?"

"No one of consequence; he's just some poor Muggle that crossed my path at an inopportune time. But to everyone at Hogwarts, he's Harry Potter. Same scar, same eyes. Looks just like you."

Harry felt himself relax slightly. Ever since he'd awoken in this nightmare, he'd been worrying about Hermione. He knew his wife was a strong woman, but he didn't know how his disappearance would affect her or their baby. An imposter taking his place? Would she know it wasn't him? A sick, twisted part of his mind conjured images of her cuddled up with the fake Harry, and he nearly lost the food Renae had fed him. Rationality kicked in and Harry banished the image. Hermione would no more accept an imposter than he would.

"What is so special about this child that you'll go to such lengths?" Harry asked as nonchalantly as he could.

"Don't know much about Diviners, do you?" Sabastian grinned, and Harry shuddered at the evil in the man's eyes.

"Not really," Harry lied.

"Ever since I heard the rumor that a certain Diviner had bonded with a wizard, my plan began to form. And I watched her, followed her movements and waited. Diviner Bonds are powerful things. I knew she wouldn't stay away from him for long…and now my revenge is nearly at hand. I will show them, I will prove to them…"

Harry sat forward as much as he could, but before Sabastian said anything else, the door was pushed open again. Renae was there, holding a tray bearing a bowl and a towel. She kept the tray in front of her and away from Sabastian's eyes. Harry almost gasped aloud when he saw what else was on it. His wand was partially covered by the towel.

"What is it, Renae?"

"I thought I'd clean his wrists. They're a little bloody from the bindings."

Inwardly, Harry scowled at the woman's bad timing. After a second or two, Renae's words sunk in. He wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about as his wrists felt fine. But when he glanced down, he found angry red welts forming painlessly around the ropes that bound him.

^*^*^*^*^*

Hermione sat at her desk, staring at yet another glass jar filled with spiders. It was almost too depressing to repeatedly face the failure of her counterspell, but she had to do something or she'd end up running mad through the castle. Part of her had hoped that with her mind so focused on Harry, she would be able to duplicate what had happened before.

No such luck. If anything, her continued lack of success was depressing her further.

Replacing the jar of spiders on the bookshelf behind her, Hermione's gaze fell on the little Hungarian Horntail figure Harry had been given during the Triwizard Tournament fourth year. A hundred wonderful and terrible images filtered through her head as she ran a finger over the

dragon's back. She vividly remembered the hollow feeling when Harry and Cedric disappeared from the maze. By the time the audience had figured out that the pair of boys was indeed missing, Harry had reappeared at the maze's edge with Cedric clutched tightly to him.

The terror she'd felt in that small lapse of time was nothing when compared to the almost mindless fear she lived with now.

Harry had disappeared exactly a week ago. Just thinking it was almost beyond bearing. But she choked back the tears that threatened as she had for the past seven days. Crying about it would change nothing; it would only make her eyes red and sore.

The imposter that they'd captured had been no help at all. From what they'd been able to find out so far, he was a just an innocent Muggle, placed under Imperius, and somehow smuggled into the castle. It was incredibly frustrating. He knew less than they did. Grand.

A soft knock at her door jolted Hermione out of her thoughts, and she forced a smile to her face. She wasn't sure if it was the situation or the visitor that kept her from smiling fully.

"What is it, Draco?"

"I just wanted to check on you. Professor Dumbledore just told me that the Veritaserum on the Muggle proved fruitless. There's either a very strong memory charm on him, or he never saw who took him."

"So nothing's changed, then," Hermione sighed. "Harry's still missing, no one knows what the bloody hell is going on, and…and…" Suddenly, all her strength seemed to leach out of her, and the tears she'd held at bay spilled out over her lashes.

Draco stared at her for a few seconds before doing the only thing he could think of. He walked over and gathered her into his arms. His heart sank when she stiffened; but then he felt her relax into his arms and he tightened his grasp. Ginny had told him that Hermione needed to cry, and he guessed she was right. Being male, he didn't quite understand why anyone ever needed to cry and he'd told Ginny as much. She'd just scowled and shoved him out of their room.

Tears were soaking through his robe and he desperately wished Ron could have been the one to do this. But Ron had his own problems at the moment. He and Mariah were with Poppy, checking out the rather intense abdominal pains Mariah'd been experiencing.

Once the flood had abated a bit, Draco pulled back and offered her a silk handkerchief from the pocket of his robes.

"Are you sure you want my Mudblood tears soiling this?" she sniffed, only half joking.

"Hermione," Draco drew her name out and fixed her with a stare.

She saw many emotions swirl in the gray depths. The regret surprised her the most. "Sorry," Hermione said quickly, "force of habit." But thinking of why it was a habit brought back so many memories of Harry, Hermione had to choke back another sob.

Trying desperately not to sink into the despair she was just barely keeping back, Hermione changed the subject. "I do have one question, now that we're all friends. Why did you act that way when we were in school, Draco? Why were you so horrible?"

"Would you believe the Imperius curse?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow and waited for him to be serious.

Draco sighed. "It's what was expected of me, Hermione. I was raised to fill a certain role. And I was watched constantly to make sure I fulfilled it. All throughout our school years, the Moron Twins reported my behaviors to their fathers, who then reported to mine."

"I guess I can understand that to a point," she said softly, "but at times it was like you went out of your way to make our lives miserable."

"I did."

Hermione was stunned by the admission. She'd expected a heated denial. "Why?"

"I was jealous."

She was no longer stunned. Hermione Granger, for the first time in her life, was flat out speechless.

Draco lifted a finger and closed her gaping mouth. "For years, I watched the three of you very closely. Harry and I had one main thing in common besides Quidditch. Both of us had two friends that we did everything with. Mine had the combined intellect of a cabbage. His would die to protect him and almost did a few times. I guess it all went back to the day I offered him my friendship and he refused. I had to find some way to make myself believe I was superior to those he had chosen instead. I'm sorry, Hermione, for every prank, spell and insult I laid at your feet."

"What changed?" she asked, leaving his apology unaccepted for the time being.

"My father's death played a major role, but I think it came down to Harry accepting my hand at your…er…"

"You can say it, Draco. It doesn't bother me."

"At your funeral, then. I didn't think that anything would ever make me see Harry with anything less than disdain. But he looked so look lost, Hermione. It touched something in me, warmed me somehow. Then I held my hand out to him, and this time he took it. The next day I left England, determined to find something redeemable about Draco Malfoy. I'm still not sure I found it, but Gin is helping now and that makes all the difference."

Hermione listened while he spoke, and Draco watched the acceptance steal across her face. Whatever she was holding back, whatever doubts she still had were now gone. Draco exhaled a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.

"I won't ask if Ginny makes you happy, because I can see it in your face when she's around…and vice versa. She positively glows when she's with you. I'm very glad that you found each other."

"Thank you, Hermione." Draco could see the tears welling in her eyes again and opened his arms to her. "We'll find him. He'll come home to you."

This time, there was no hesitation when she stepped into his embrace. And once again, Draco found his shoulder being used as Hermione's handkerchief.

^*^*^*^*^

Harry sat very still as Renae cleaned his "wounds". Sabastian continued to mutter to himself, obviously ruminating over the final stages of his grand plan. The only problem was that he had ceased saying anything coherent.

Harry was trying to meet Renae's eyes, but she kept them focused on her task. When he looked back at his wrists, it was to find them completely free of any welts or blisters. Then he felt something that made his pulse rate jump into triple time. Renae had slipped his wand into the sleeve of his robe.

And if that wasn't enough to make keeping a blank face difficult, when she stood and left the room, Harry noticed that she hadn't tied his hands nearly tight enough to keep them bound. He could easily slip his hands from the bindings and get out of here. But before he did…

"Sabastian," Harry said softly, "can I ask you something?"

The blond man turned around swiftly, a look of confusion on his face. Harry had the impression that he'd forgotten that he, Harry, was even there. Sabastian said nothing, he only nodded.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Revenge."

"Against whom?" Harry pressed.

"All of them. Every last bloody one of them that made my life a living hell as I grew up. Everyone that shunned me, ignored me, and looked at me like I was less than human."

Harry flinched at the fury and madness mingling in the man's eyes before. His mind was in turmoil over what to do now. He could stay a bit longer and press for more information, but then he ran the risk of Sabastian noticing his loosened bindings. After a few moments debate, Harry decided to make his escape and take what he already knew with him.

Once Sabastian resumed his pacing, Harry slipped his left hand from under the ropes. With as much stealth as he could under the circumstances, he removed his wedding ring, placed it on his right ring finger and turned it three times.

He felt the familiar pull from behind his navel and sent a silent thank you to Georg Tambor for the idea of turning the ring into a portkey.

When he appeared in Hermione's office, he stumbled slightly and wondered if he'd ever land straight upright after a journey by portkey. Then his eyes focused on the spectacle in front of him and he shook his head as if to clear the image. Hermione was wrapped around Draco like a boa constrictor.

"Moving in on me already, Malfoy?"

For as long as he lived, he would never forget the faces that greeted that statement. Draco looked like he'd been hit in the stomach with a bludger, and Hermione looked like she'd taken a stunning spell at full strength. After a second or two, though, the shock seemed to wear off, and Hermione ran toward him as fast as her pregnant body would allow. He braced himself for the impact and fastened his arms around her like a vise once she'd reached him.

"You're home? Where have you been? What happened? Are you all right? How did you …"

Harry cut off her seemingly ceaseless litany of questions in the most efficient manner he could think of, fastening his lips to hers with crushing intensity.

It was like fitting the last remaining piece in a puzzle, and his whole being felt the completion. Her sweetness clouded his senses until all he knew was her. As she had from the beginning, she infused his whole body with her essence. His mouth continued to ravage hers as his hands fisted in the bushy brown locks, freeing them from the elastic that bound them at her nape. Her hands were similarly buried in his untidy raven hair as she held him close. Overcome with the lack of her, Harry tried to pull her closer to him, but realized she was already as close as she could be without being inside his skin. Skin. Skin was an excellent idea. His fingers dropped to the fastenings of her robe, hands desperate to touch the silkiness of her skin after such a long absence. Hermione seemed to find the idea appealing and the pair had a giggled battle over who got to undress whom first.

"Er," Draco said uncomfortably, and then cleared his throat a little too loud. Both vocalizations were ignored. "I'll just be going then," he said to no one in particular and crossed to the office door. As he shut the door behind him, Draco knew he should inform Ginny, Ron and Mariah that Harry had returned. He winced at the mental image of those three bursting in on Harry and Hermione.

Perhaps, he thought with a grin, he'd go down and visit Severus first for a nice long chat.

Now you owe me one, Potter, Draco thought as he whistled his way towards the dungeons.

^*^*^*^

"Mariah?" Ron whispered, not wanting to wake her if she was still asleep.

"I'm awake," she grinned, and grunted as she shifted in the bed to face him. "Getting damn tired of this bed, but I'm awake."

Ron joined her, stretching out on the bed and clasping her hand in his. "Did you sleep at all?" They had been up for most of the night in the hospital wing, and Ron had done his best to convince Mariah to catch up on the sleep she'd missed. Even though Poppy had told them again that morning that the pains she was experiencing were perfectly normal, something all expectant mothers went through, both were still worried. Poppy said that was normal too, a grin splitting her normally dour face.

They only believed her when the pains ceased a few hours later. And Ron swore if she told him that was normal, he was going to hit something.

"A little. Junior here keeps playing football with my bladder, though. Makes sleep difficult when you're getting up every fifteen minutes."

"Listen up, you," Ron said to her bulging stomach, "you'd better knock that off and let your mum sleep."

Mariah giggled as she always did when Ron talked to the baby; a good thing, as that was Ron's intention. Ever since his assistant had revealed herself as the head Diviner and Harry had disappeared, there had been scant few happy feelings. And he hated to see Mariah so overcome with worry.

"I'm sorry about all this, Ron," Mariah said softly, turning serious again, but Ron refused to let her continue.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, love." Ron squeezed her hand tightly and tried to convince her with his eyes. "Granted, I never expected to be the father of a child with the ability to do me grievous bodily harm with just a thought. Might make adolescence a trial, that." He shot her a wry grin, but she didn't reciprocate.

"Are you ever going to be serious about this?" Mariah blew out an exasperated breath.

"Serious about what? The baby?" At her nod, Ron sat up and faced her, taking both of her hands in his. "Hagrid said something years ago that still makes sense today, Mariah. What's coming will come, and we'll meet it when it does."

"Isn't that a little defeatist?"

"Maybe. But while we can plan for what could happen, I refuse to let it take away from the more joyous aspects of what is coming. In a just a few days, give or take, we will get to see our baby, Mariah. Diviner or not, Triuna or not, it doesn't matter. He or she will be a little of you, a little of me and loved by both of us." Ron paused and took in a deep breath. Gathering his courage, he plunged on. "Actually, since you're up, there's something I wanted to ask you."

Mariah didn't trust herself to speak. Women the world over, both Muggle and witch, couldn't help the racing of their pulse at that phrase. Mariah knew that it couldn't be what she wanted him to ask, but that didn't stop her from wishing it was.

"What do you think of the last name Weasley?"

She nearly choked. Was he…? Could he…? She took as deep a breath as she could without him noticing and answered in a surprisingly even voice, "I like it. And those that carry it."

Ron grinned again, looking a little less anxious than he had a moment before. "Any chance you'd want to add it to yours? Officially, I mean?"

There was something in him that Mariah couldn't breach. Over the past few months, he'd become quite adept at shielding things from her. For the most part, she couldn't read his thoughts directly anymore unless he was upset or otherwise occupied mentally. But the shields he used right now were stronger than any she'd experienced thus far, and that hurt a little. If he was asking this out of love, or any other affection, he wouldn't shield her.

"You don't have to do this, Ron. We're already Bonded. Most Bonds consider that binding enough without adding marriage into the mix. I know my father did. I know your sense of honor demands that you make an honest woman of me, to use a trite Muggle expression, but it's not necessary."

Suddenly, all mental shields dropped, and Mariah nearly gasped at the wave of anger that radiated from him. Almost as if he couldn't contain the anger while sitting, Ron rose from the bed and began to stalk around the room.

"You think I asked you out of a sense of decency? What kind of a prat do you think I am? I've told you over and over about my parents, and the love that has seen them through seven children, two wars and over thirty years. Do you honestly think I'd settle for anything less? And as far as I'm concerned, the Bond means we're attached magically. A marriage means something entirely different."

Mariah no longer trusted her voice. In his outburst, she'd seen the truth in his words and in his mind. She decided that was the best place to answer him. What are you saying?

Ron whipped around to face her. I'm trying to tell you that I love you and want to marry you, damn it. His anger ebbed away when he saw her smile and the tears pooling in her bright blue eyes. Bloody romantic, that, wasn't it?

Oh, definitely. Care to try again?

Mariah's pulse jumped into triple time as Ron returned to her side and took her hands once again. "I love you, Mariah Jamison. And I've discovered over the past few months that I was only half alive until you stumbled into my life with that message about Hermione. You've brought me joy and anger, and worry, and love and every other emotion known to man and wizard alike. Please marry me so that I can feel this complete for the rest of my life."

Mariah didn't answer at first, but pulled him towards her and ran her fingers through the fiery locks, bringing her hands to a halt when they cupped his face. "Yes."

Joy spread and radiated from them almost to the point of making the mouse in the wall giddy with it. Ron brought his hands to her face and placed his lips delicately on hers. Mariah had other ideas, however, and deepened the kiss immediately. Her hands shifted to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to lie next to her. As their tongues danced, their hands roved and clothing became much too constricting. Once divested of the offending garments, they began a more thorough investigation of each other. Then a knock startled them both.

Ron leapt from the bed, hurriedly donned his robes and opened the door a crack to shield Mariah from whoever was there. He nearly groaned when he realized who it was.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"You know, I'm actually considering changing my name to Sodoff Malfoy. It would probably make your life a lot easier, Weasley." Draco's eyebrow arched and a grin broke over his face. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Why do you ask?" Ron asked warily.

"Well, it's either that or you've developed an affinity for women's clothing."

Ron glanced down and bit back an oath. In his haste, he'd grabbed Mariah's bright magenta robes rather than his usual blue. He didn't mind being caught in her robes as much as he minded who caught him.

He'd just opened his mouth to utter a scathing epithet when Mariah appeared at his side, dressed and looking completely unfazed.

"Back to your corners, you two," she laughed, and then turned to Draco. "Has something happened?"

"Just thought you'd want to know that Harry's back," he said casually, like he was announcing that it was going to rain later.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"And you're just now telling us?"

"Yeah, Weasley. I thought he and Hermione deserved a little privacy for their reunion, especially considering that they were nearly shagging right in front of me."

Ron couldn't help it. He grinned stupidly at Malfoy and the two shared a rare moment of camaraderie. "Have they finished - er-- reuniting?" Ron asked, and was rewarded with a slap on the arm from Mariah.

"Yeah, just. Got to admire the guy's stamina," Malfoy quipped and Mariah favored him with the same slap to the arm.

She pushed past both of them and muttered what sounded like "Men".

^*^*^*^*^

Sabastian was in a rage. And not his usual I'll-show-them rage, Renae thought as she healed the various bruises and marks he'd left on her. This time, it seemed his anger had no real defining point. He was angry with her, angry that his plan was falling apart...

It hadn't taken long for him to realize that she had allowed Harry to escape, but at least he didn't know she'd facilitated it. All it had taken was one little peek into his past, one glimmer of the ring maker talking about portkeys, and she'd known to make sure his hands were free. And Sabastian merely thought that her ineptitude at retying his bonds had been the cause. The one bright spot of her whole horrible situation was that he didn't think much of her mental abilities. Not that she'd ever tried to convince him otherwise.

And now, more than ever, she needed him to believe that she wasn't too bright. Otherwise, she had no hope of saving the child its horrible fate at Sabastian's hand once it was born.

At first, their Bond had been blissful. She knew he had problems, deep seated emotional hang-ups about Diviners as a whole from his horrible excuse for a mother. Shunned by her almost from infancy because he was born male and therefore not a Diviner himself, he'd grown to hate everything about the Order. It didn't matter to Allison that her son had been born a wizard, she'd wanted a Diviner daughter and anything else wasn't worthy of her attention.

But then they'd met, had fallen in love, and their Bond had formed. For a while, Renae had thought that she was breaking through his prejudices and bad feelings. And then the madness had started to creep in. It was very subtle at first, random comments and irrational outbursts. The final plunge into insanity had happened almost overnight…when he'd found out that Mariah had Bonded with a wizard.

Finished with her wounds, Renae paced the confines of the cell she'd once called a room. And it was a cell this place she spent the days of her imprisonment until her jailer called for her. Luckily, he didn't call for her much anymore, outside of the occasional tasks he needed her to handle. Like delivering the scroll, or terrorizing pregnant witches.

Renae felt herself nearly engulfed with self-loathing. Why had she done it? Any of it? She must be the weakest woman in the world to have gone against every principle she had for Sabastian. And she became weaker still when she hoped that he would snap out of his haze of insanity and return to the man he had been before vengeance became his only passion.

She wished she could do more for Mariah. They'd been friends once upon a time. But one of the first things he'd done when he found her wandering London all those months ago was to place a memory charm on her so she wouldn't remember. And now, Mariah didn't remember a lot of things -- like their friendship, or her relationship to Sabastian.

The urge to contact Kalena came over her again as she heard the unmistakable sounds of Sabastian's temper tantrum in the room down the hall. Glass shattering, books hitting the walls, furniture splintering under the power of his rage. But contacting Kalena was out of the question now. She'd gone too far, done too much to further his vengeance to expect help from that quarter.

Once Harry had left the castle, Renae had chanced a look into his future by stroking the lock of hair she'd snipped from him during her little time-turner jaunt into the past. That lock, while invaluable in seeing his past, didn't help much with seeing his future. A fact she'd tried to explain to Sabastian numerous times, only to have it fall on deaf ears. Precognition was not an exact thing - there were too many variables to see a clear picture of the future. She prayed that Harry was smart enough to put the pieces in their proper places and stop Sabastian. Because if he didn't…if he couldn't…Renae shuddered at the thought.

Sabastian bellowed for her and Renae slowly made her way down the hall towards him, thinking that maybe this time she'd see a glimmer of the man he used to be.

^*^*^*^*

The reunion in the staff common room was a boisterous affair at first. Dumbledore had alerted all the staff to Harry's return, and they had flocked to the room to welcome him back. Even Snape, which surprised everyone. They watched Snape cross to him, say a few words and then sweep from the room with his usual dramatic flair.

"I meant to ask you how those two coexist as teachers here," Draco muttered to Hermione.

"They mutually ignore each other. I think that's the first time they've spoken to one another since Harry first joined the staff," Hermione giggled.

After the parade of staff members abated, Dumbledore closed the door and locked it. The room became eerily quiet as the five former students and Mariah stared at the Headmaster.

His gaze focused on Mariah, Hermione and Ginny and then a smile lit his face, blue eyes twinkling behind the half moon spectacles. "Well," he said with barely concealed mirth, "trust you lot to do everything together, even when starting your families."

That comment seemed to break the tension and everyone gave a hearty chuckle. Draco and Ginny were standing next to the fireplace, his arms wrapped around her. Ron and Mariah were on the room's only couch together, Ron shooting steely glances at Draco when he thought no one would notice. Of course, everyone did. Once the other teachers had left, Harry and Hermione had moved to a love seat and sat together, Hermione curled into his side as if afraid to lose direct physical contact with him.

"Now then. Harry? What can you tell us about your confinement?" Dumbledore asked, moving to stand in front of the cold fireplace and face the six of them.

"Not much, Headmaster. Most of what I heard was the ravings of a madman, but I've been able to piece together a bit of this man's plan, I think. He's after revenge, that much was abundantly clear. But revenge against who, he didn't tell me. I know he's been orchestrating the attacks on pregnant women in order to get them to Hogwarts. Those attacks were a ruse. He's really after Ron and Mariah's child."

Harry had told them privately before they had left the staff tower for the common room, not wanting them to hear this news surrounded by an audience. He'd been a little surprised over their reaction -- or lack of one - until they told him that they'd known before he disappeared.

"The imposter that was sent here was to remain until the baby's birth, at which time he was apparently supposed to somehow take the baby and bring it to Sabastian."

Harry raised his hand to run it through his hair, feeling bad that there was no more he could tell them after a week in captivity. Part of him wished he'd stayed longer, tried to glean more information, but the risk of discovery had been too great. Hermione shifted and cuddled closer to him on the couch they shared. Even though he hadn't found out much, he was very glad to be back.

"Harry?" Hermione sat up straighter and grabbed his arm. "What's this?"

"What's what, love?" Harry looked to where she was pointing and his mouth fell open as he saw what had drawn her attention.

"Headmaster?"

All eyes focused on Harry when he spoke up. He pulled back the sleeve of his robe to show everyone what Hermione had discovered. There were a series of numbers scratched into his forearm; the order of them seemed to indicate a date. But the date in question meant nothing to him. It was just one in a long list of days he'd spent drunk.

"Does this date stand out to anyone here?" Dumbledore asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"Well, it means something to someone, or it wouldn't have been placed there," Draco commented.

"Brilliant deduction, Malfoy," Ron quipped, and Draco merely smiled in return.

"So how do we figure out what it means?" Hermione asked in a rather loud voice to quell the verbal sparring between Ron and Draco before it began.

"A pensieve, Headmaster?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"I was just thinking the same thing, Harry." Dumbledore crossed to the cabinets along the back wall, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. It was a large pan, like one would use to bake a sheet cake. "I think this will be big enough."

Harry moved to take his wand from his robes, but Dumbledore stopped him. "I don't think we should use your memories, Harry. This date coincides with a time you weren't exactly in your right mind. Perhaps Ron's would be, how shall I say it, clearer?"

"I don't have the best memory, Headmaster," Ron said, ears going a bit pink.

"I can help with that," Mariah said, shifting on the couch to face him. "I think I can get deep enough into your mind to help you focus on that one date in particular."

"Now that's a scary thought," Draco said with a grin. "Don't know that I'd want to go too deeply into your gray matter, Weasley. Might scar me for life."

"Sod off, Malfoy," said Harry, Hermione, Mariah and Ron simultaneously. Ginny joined in, but said Draco instead. To Harry's great surprise, Ron and Draco's eyes met and the two seemed to laugh together over something. Would wonders never cease?

Dumbledore took a few moments to place the tray on the table in front of Ron while Mariah placed her fingers to Ron's temples. After a few minutes more, she nodded to Dumbledore. He pointed his wand tip to Ron's temple and extracted the thought -- a silver white strand -- and laced it onto the tray. Once that was completed, he prodded the thought with his wand.

"I think we'd all better have a look. The more eyes we have, the better our chances of not missing anything," he told them, and every one of them crowded around the small table, Ginny, Hermione and Mariah having the most difficulty, given their swollen stomachs.

At his instruction, they all leaned forward and placed their noses into the pensieve containing Ron's memory. Draco was blessedly silent about it.

Three years earlier, in the Three Broomsticks

Ron pushed open the doors to the Three Broomsticks and scanned the various patrons, looking for Harry. Sure enough, there he was. The Boy Who Lived was slumped over a table, snoring. Shaking his head in both disgust and resignation, Ron walked over to him and prodded his shoulder.

"Come on, mate. Time to get up, go home and sleep it off."

Harry only grunted and swatted at Ron. He missed by a good two feet; either because his glasses had slipped from his face or because he had once again put away the better part of a bottle of Ogden's.

Ron could tell the moment that Harry's befuddled brain realized who was next to him, his eyes widened and a sloppy grin split his face.

"Ron," he slurred. "Come and have a drink."

"No thanks, Harry. It's time for you to come back to the flat so you can pass out in private."

"You're a real prat, you know that?" Harry said with all the maturity of a two year old denied a toy.

"Funny, I told myself the same thing on the way over here to collect you. Next time, I might just tell Rosmerta to heave your sorry arse out into the street."

Harry laughed stupidly, but the part of his brain that hadn't been pickled realized that Ron was getting close to leaving without him. Mustering all his concentration, Harry heaved himself to his feet and clung to Ron's shoulders as they made their way out of the bar.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Harry? I mean, I miss her too, but life does go on."

"Not for me. I can't, Ron," Harry said with more lucidity than Ron had heard from him in years. "I caused her death. She was the one person in this whole world, besides you, that I ever loved. And my love killed her."

"You don't really believe that?" Ron asked, shocked. He'd known Harry's feelings for Hermione since the end of sixth year, but he'd never known the depth to which Harry blamed himself for her death.

"In vino veritas, Ron," Harry lost his grip on reality and began to cackle with laughter. "There's truth in wine, or something. Doesn't make much sense as I was drinking whiskey. Who said that, by the way?"

"I dunno, Harry. Probably some drunk Greek bloke," Ron struggled to keep Harry upright since he kept lurching awkwardly.

"Roman, Ron. Romans spoke Latin." Harry paused as he righted himself from a drunken lunge that plowed him into a woman walking the opposite direction down the High Street. "Mione'd know. She knew everything, didn't she?" Harry's eyes leaked a river of tears as he put his free hand to the back of his neck.

"Yep, she sure did." Ron agreed, beginning to feel a little emotional himself.

"Not everything. Couldn't tell her about the graveyard. Never, never. Tried to tell her I loved her, too. She didn't want to hear it."

"I know, Harry. But she knows now."

Harry stopped walking and looked as far up into the night sky as he could without falling over. "Y'think so? Do y'think she found my parents up there, Ron? Y'think she's with my mum and dad?"

Ron couldn't speak through the tears.

With a loud, booming voice, Dumbledore touched the observer Harry on the shoulder and one by one they left the pensieve and returned to the staff common room.

Not one person in the room, not even Draco Malfoy, had dry eyes. Sniffles and soft sobs filled the room as everyone composed themselves. Hermione had buried her face in Harry's shoulder and his cheek rested on the top of her head. Ron seemed the least affected, probably because he'd already lived that scene. It also made him more observant.

"I did notice something," Ron said quietly as the crying ebbed into silence. "The woman that you bumped into, Harry. She was tall and blonde, and she grabbed at the back of your head when you bumped into each other."

"And she walked away with a clump of your hair," Mariah said.

That statement dried the tears faster than a hot air blower. "But why take his hair?" Ginny asked, clearing her cheeks of the lingering wetness.

"Voodoo doll?" guessed Draco, only half joking. He'd seen way too much island magic in the Caribbean to discount anything, no matter how odd it seemed.

"No," Mariah said, and she had a funny look on her face. "To see into Harry's past…and his future. Since she's not Bonded to him, she'd need something of his to touch in order to get a clear impression." Her face seemed to focus on something vague. "Did she seem familiar to anyone else?"

"Yes," Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Dumbledore answered at the same time.

"That was the woman that showed up at Hogwarts," Hermione said, looking uneasily at Ginny.

"And it was the woman that tried to kidnap me," Ginny confirmed, trying to draw Draco's arms even tighter around her as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

Before anyone had a chance to comment, the door opened and Kalena walked in. Stunned silence greeted her, not because of her entrance as much as whom she entered with. Beside her were a laughing, unbespectacled Sybill Trelawney and a tall and rather surly looking blonde woman of about the same age as Kalena.

The only sound that broke the silence was Mariah's voice.

"Hello, Mother."