Marked

The next morning, Harry woke still wearing a wide smile from the night before. As he got ready for class, flashes of the night crossed through his mind and he nearly had to stop himself from laughing out of giddiness as he remembered what had taken place, every action and word that had contributed to the best night of his life. By the time he made it downstairs to breakfast, not only did Harry not mind the growing pain in his lower back, he began to look forward to what Hermione was calling their "private study time." Harry's smile widened when he sat at the table and Hermione immediately pulled him closer for a long kiss before silently going back to her breakfast, a wide smile of her own on her face.

Neville eyed Harry from across the table. He smirked as Hermione started playing with Harry's hair. "So Harry, how was Quidditch yesterday?"

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "Brilliant. Caught the snitch in record time. After the third time, I was pretty tired." Harry choked down building laughter as both Neville and Ron grinned at him. "Impressed the team with how well I negotiated the pitch and a few tricks I recently learned before that, though."

Ron almost choked on his juice from laughter. He put his glass down and winked at the boy next to him. "One of these days, I'm really going to have to find someone to play with. I would love to be good enough to catch three times in one practice."

Glancing to Lavender's other side, Neville said, "Then stop polishing your broom alone and ask someone to play with you. Otherwise, the most you can ever hope to be is a Beater."

"What's wrong with that position?" Parvati asked. "I like Beaters. They get to play rough. Aren't your brothers Beaters, Ron?" She smiled at Ron in encouragement.

Harry grinned as Ron's ears turned bright red. He nodded, at a loss for words.

She shrugged. "I guess you would've had to find another position on the team if you'd hope to play for Gryffindor while they're still here. A shame tryouts are over, I would love to see how you play. You should figure out what other positions you might like."

Face turning redder by the second, Ron cleared his throat a couple of times before nodding at her and saying through a wide grin, "Maybe we could play together after class sometime."

"I'd like that," Parvati said quietly.

She smiled and went back to her breakfast, not noticing the grins the boys exchanged over the table. Or the horrified look Lavender was giving Neville. He shook his head at her, eyebrows raised. After a few seconds of intense glaring, she went back to her own breakfast. Harry figured that even if she knew they hadn't originally been talking about a genuine game of Quidditch, Lavender wouldn't interfere because the conversation had led to her best friend getting a date with a guy she liked. Especially if her boyfriend made good use of their time alone.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall walked up to the group at the table, a grim expression on her face. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger."

Harry turned, still wearing a trace of his early morning smile. "Good morning, Professor. Why do I always feel like I'm about to get in trouble when you come to see me in the morning?"

"Perhaps because you're always into something you should not be," McGonagall said. A faint smile was the only indication she was joking. "I need to see both of you in my office promptly at six this evening. The Minister wishes to speak with you Mr. Potter and he has graciously allowed for Miss Granger's tendency to not let you out of her sight."

"Did he tell you why?" Hermione asked.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "He only indicated that it was of great importance that he speak with you. I imagine he will continue the discussion you began Tuesday."

Death Eaters and why the public is being kept in the dark, Harry considered. He nodded slowly. That was a conversation he would look forward to having, provided it wasn't more of the same nonsense Dumbledore had said to him before.

With a brief inclination of her head, Professor McGonagall left Harry to his thoughts and walked swiftly to the opposite side of the room.

"Do you think there's been any progress?" Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head. Following her lead, he kept his voice too low for anyone to overhear. "Unless they've found Bellatrix in the past few days, I doubt it. She's the key to this whole thing now." Harry nodded his head in the direction Professor McGonagall had taken. Hermione turned to follow where he indicated. The Headmistress was talking to Draco. "How much do you want to bet he's is going to be a part of our little conference tonight?"

Hermione frowned. "If he is, it won't be because the Minister is concerned with how he's dealing with the upheaval in his family. You already know I think he's up to something."

"I didn't disagree with you," he reminded her. "That doesn't mean we can't use whatever it is to our advantage," Harry said.

"You're assuming anything he says can be trusted."

"No," Harry countered. "I'm assuming whatever Dumbledore had to say to him Tuesday was enough to keep him on our side."

Hermione turned to him. "I'd forgotten they spoke. When I--" She stopped and, looking alarmed briefly, cast her eyes down.

"When you went over there to talk to Dumbledore," he said. Remembering that she hadn't spoken about it since, Harry asked, "What did the two of you talk about anyway? It looked like an argument." When Hermione looked up at him again, Harry was taken aback. There was something dark and unreadable in her expression that inspired a moment of fear before she responded.

"I don't want to say just yet." Hermione put a hand to his wrist when he frowned in response. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't want to keep secrets from you, but I have a few theories about what's going on with You-Know-Who and some other matters and I don't want to say anything until I know for sure. I don't want to scare you," she added softly.

"Why would a theory scare me?" A thousand possibilities ran through his mind, but he couldn't force any of them to make sense. Of all the things that had scared him the past few years, and especially the past few days, a mere theory was the last thing Harry thought would cause him any worry.

She shrugged. "My last theory is that you were dying from whatever happened to you at King's Cross."

"No, your last theory led to the potion that saved my life," Harry reminded her. "Why can't you tell me?"

"I just can't," she said. "But I hope to have the right information soon. I--I'm sorry."

"No, if you feel like I shouldn't worry about it, I won't," Harry said. "I just wish you'd trust me not to get too emotional about it."

"Not get too emotional?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You-Know-Who may try to kill you and I'm not to expect you to get emotional?" She looked at him quizzically and Harry knew she was thinking of his behavior the past few weeks. He didn't blame her for being a little skeptical of his claim.

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist to look at his watch. "I need to grab one of my books before class. I'll see you in Charms, Harry." After giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, Hermione grabbed her bag and practically ran out of the Great Hall, leaving Harry to wonder just what kind of theory Hermione could have about Voldemort that could scare him--particularly since the so-called Dark Lord wasn't in a position to go after anyone.

Neville Longbottom was in trouble. He knew it before Lavender cornered him after their last class of the day. He knew it before she'd sat through History of Magic, scowling at her parchment as she took notes. He knew it as soon as he'd let it slip that he hoped to talk to Harry after his meeting with Dumbledore in the Headmistress's office that night. She'd turned to him and frowned, then proceeded to seethe through the entire class period, saving her ire for when the other students--his friends and hers--left him alone to face whatever she had planned.

Moments after Parvati had bid them both a tentative goodbye, she'd turned to him, her face blank as she asked the first unanswerable question. "What's going on?"

"I--what do you mean?" Neville asked. From her expression, he immediately knew stalling had been the wrong tactic to try.

"I mean," she said, moving to stand over him behind the desk, "why would Harry tell you what the Minister wants to see him about?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "There have been a lot of strange things going on with him the past few weeks," Lavender said. "There's more, isn't there?" Before Neville could interrupt her, she continued. "Professor Snape's been killed. Professor Lestrange just disappeared and Professor McGonagall hasn't given an explanation for it. What is Harry getting into now and what does it have to do with you?"

"Nothing," Neville said. "Nothing, you should worry about," he added at her frown. He reached for her arm, but she pulled back and moved out of his range. "There is...something, but I can't tell you any of it." Great. Now he was sounding like Harry had when he'd first asked for the truth.

"Why can't you tell me what's going on?" Lavender asked.

"Look, I'd like to, but I promised the Minister I wouldn't tell anyone what's happening," Neville said. "Plus, Harry trusted me with a lot of details that he doesn't want getting around." He knew that was the wrong tactic when her face went from passive to hurt in seconds.

"I don't believe it," she said. "Something's going on between the Ministry and Harry Potter and you're right in the middle of it." Lavender pouted. "You don't trust me enough to tell me. I bet you told Ron everything."

Neville looked away from her quickly, sure she'd be able to read the truth in his eyes. "I haven't told him everything," he lied.

"But you've told him something," she said softly. "And I get nothing. After nearly ten months of being your girlfriend, that's the best I can expect from you? I think I deserve more than that."

Neville was tempted to ask if the best he could expect was an undeserved guilt trip, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. She was worried about him and had every right to be. Just as he felt he had every right to tell her what was going on, though he knew it would only worry her more instead of allay whatever fears were forming in her mind about his new association with Harry.

He hadn't helped matters by informing her the day before that he would taking private defense lessons with Harry and he wasn't sure if she'd be allowed to watch as they'd practiced. That had led to Lavender's accusation that he was hiding more than just a need to learn proper defense, which had fed into today's interrogation. His refusal to tell her everything inspired a full-on guilt trip--complete with glaring, pouting and, if he wasn't mistaken, the beginnings of tears. That was low. Even if he knew they were real-- Neville couldn't be sure of that at this point--crying was the one thing he didn't want to put up with. Especially knowing he would probably lose his nerve because of them.

"If he's going to get you killed too, I deserve to know why," she said softly. She didn't push him away again as Neville moved to put his arms around her, but Lavender held herself stiffly, still frowning when her boyfriend pulled back to look into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want you to worry about it."
"Then tell me what's going on," she whispered. "The more you say, the more I think it's something scary. I don't want you to get hurt," she said.

"I won't get hurt."
"Why, because Harry Potter is going to teach you to defend yourself?" Lavender asked, her voice rising. She pushed away from Neville and leaned to the side, drumming her fingers along the desktop. "Do you know how crazy that sounds? He's a student, just like us. What could he possibly teach you that a proper teacher can't? For that matter, why do you trust him to show you anything useful?"

"I...just trust that I know what I'm doing, Lavender," he said. "I know you don't think Harry can help me, but I'm absolutely sure he's not dangerous. If he was, Professor McGonagall wouldn't want him in the school."

"How do we know her judgment can be trusted?"

Neville swore softly, realizing he was quickly digging himself into a hole he wouldn't find his way out of any time soon. There was no getting around this kind of logic. "Trust me, then. I've talked to him more than once since all of this stuff started happening and I believe he's going to do everything he can to help me. Besides, his girlfriend is your roommate and you have no questions at all that Hermione can be trusted. She's around Harry all the time and she stood by him after whatever happened Saturday."

"She's in love with him, she doesn't know any better," was the quick response. Lavender rolled her eyes at Neville's pointed look. "I know she's smart, but that doesn't prove anything. What really happened Saturday? It was obviously more than what was in the paper."

"What happened is in the past," Neville said. "The important thing is that Harry, my friend, made it out alive and he needs my help with something."

"He wants you to help him, but he's got to teach you defense first? So, he is leading you into danger?"

Neville breathed out a long, heavy sigh. "He's not leading me into anything. He told me the situation, I told him I'd be happy to help. Then he said it would be better if I brushed up on my defensive skills before I really get involved and Professor McGonagall agreed. There's nothing more to it."
Lavender stared at him for a long moment, waiting for Neville to continue. When he didn't, she grabbed her book and parchment for class and shoved them inside her bag. "I need to be alone for a little while," she said. Then she turned on her heel and walked quickly from the room, leaving Neville to wonder why he hadn't told her everything. Her smothering concern for him was infinitely better than the silent treatment he knew he'd be getting for a long while.

Hermione paced back and forth in front of the Headmistress's desk. Her hand rubbed over the crystal resting below her throat as she mumbled to herself, so focused she hardly noticed Harry was there. He watched her move in front of his chair twice before he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

She shook off his hand. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," he answered. "Stop fiddling with that thing," Harry said, pointing to the necklace. "You're making me nervous. I don't even know why you're anxious. Is something wrong with you?"

"No," Hermione snapped. Her eyes darted to the fireplace where Professor McGonagall had yet to make a reappearance with the Minister. "Yes." She started moving again, this time out of Harry's reach. "I've been thinking about the problem with Draco and I can't wrap my mind around it."

"We don't even know there is a problem with him."
"Exactly," she said. "Dumbledore had a talk with him Tuesday and then yesterday he was all about being friends again. I'm sure Professor McGonagall included him in our meeting tonight, but why? How is it all connected?"

"Have you ever thought it might not be connected?" Harry asked. Her immediate glare answered the question. "It is possible," he said, raising a hand to fend off her objection, "that Draco does want to be close again."

"How can you say something like that?"

"I'm not saying he wants to be friends, but what better way to find out what's going on with the search for his aunt than to talk to someone who seems to have the Minister's ear?" At Hermione's answering frown, Harry said, "It may be nothing more than Draco wanting information. And if he can remember anything else Bellatrix might've said before what happened last week, we might be able to use him. I just want to give him a chance to show what he's about before you go off accusing him."

"Giving him a chance to show what he's about could have us attending your funeral next, Harry," Hermione said in a soft voice. "Don't forget how close you've come to dying recently."

"As if I could ever forget that," Harry responded. "I just don't want to jump to conclusions where Draco is concerned. With spells around the school to protect us, the Floo Network being monitored and Professor McGonagall on my side, neither Draco nor his aunt could so much as cough in my direction without someone all over them. I'm perfectly safe."

"You're perfectly foolish if you really believe that. Aren't you the one that suffered Dementor and Death Eater attacks at school? More than once?"

"You know how I feel about how Dumbledore handled security at Hogwarts," Harry responded, his voice low. "You know why I feel that way. All the more reason for me to get as much information as I can from my own sources." He held up a hand as Hermione made to protest again. "I'm not saying I'm going to believe every word he says, just that I'd like to give him a chance. He might slip up and tell me something useful. I think you forget, Draco has no idea which Harry he's dealing with. He thinks I'm naive where he's concerned, that I've trusted him for years and still do. He doesn't know about the years of animosity, and that I still see something of the prat I left behind in him," Harry said.

"And he doesn't have the first clue what I've survived to get where I am," Harry added. "That will be my advantage if he tries anything. He has no clue and I have no intention of letting on."

Hermione stood stock-still in front of the desk, frowning as she considered Harry's words. "You might be right, but--"

"Hermione, please just trust my judgment on this," Harry interrupted. "I'm going to let him talk to me, whether you want him to or not. I don't care if you stand there with your wand at his neck the entire time, let him say what he will and I will decide how much of it I can trust."

She said nothing, but moved to sit in the chair next to his, facing Professor McGonagall's desk. Hermione didn't move again until Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace and into the office.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger." The Minister nodded at each of them in turn.

"Do you have news for me?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore laughed shortly. "Getting right to business," he remarked, glancing at Professor McGonagall. The Headmistress ignored his look and sat behind her desk, clasping her hands in front of herself on the blotter. "Professor McGonagall tells me you've been having nightmares," Dumbledore stated.

"Yes," Harry answered slowly. "That isn't what you've come to talk about, is it? I could've put that in a letter," he said with a sneer, recalling Dumbledore's advice from days before.

"No," he responded. "But, I would like to hear about them. If I recall, most of your previous dreams held some significance. There may be some clues we can use."

Harry doubted the usefulness of any of the thoughts crowding his head at night, but he obliged, seeing no harm in telling the Minister what had happened. He began with the dream from Monday night and was surprised when the Headmistress excused herself briefly towards the end. Harry suspected she was crying, but he didn't see any trace of it when she reentered the room a minute later. When he finished, the Minister nodded for him to continue with the next one. After a deep breath, he talked about what it had been like to be on the other side of the office that Saturday afternoon.

As Harry described his dream, they each looked at him with varying degrees of horror and concern. By the time he finished, Hermione was gripping his hand so hard he was losing circulation and both the Headmistress and Minister were staring at him as if waiting for him to dissolve into a fit before them.

A minute after Harry stopped, the Minister asked, "Did you dream last night or the night before?"

Harry shook his head. "I took a couple of potions the other night and I..." He stopped, remembering what had happened. "I forgot to take anything last night, but I slept fine." Harry fought down a smile as he thought of why he'd fallen into that coma-like sleep just after making it back to his dorm room. If they could do that every night, he'd never have to worry about nightmares again.

Dumbledore nodded at this statement. "Perhaps they were just brought on by stress and will no longer bother you. If you have any more dreams, I would appreciate if you wrote them down in as much detail as you can remember and send them to me."

"What kind of information will I get in return?" Harry asked.

The Minister shifted in his chair and looked over at Professor McGonagall. She raised both eyebrows and motioned in Harry's direction, indicating her unwillingness to help with whatever he was going to do.

"I'm not sure how much I can say--"
"Oh, I don't believe this!" Harry stood from his chair abruptly and backed towards the door. "You can't have brought me in here to say nothing about what's going on."

"Sit down," Dumbledore said. His voice shook with barely controlled anger. "I'm not going to deal with your tantrums today."

"My tantrums?" Harry looked at Hermione who appeared just as irritated as he felt. "You know what? Fine." Harry sat again and crossed his arms. "Say whatever you're going to say and then leave me alone. If I'm going to live through this, I can see you can't be relied on."

"That is not true," Dumbledore countered. "As I was saying before you interrupted, a lot of the information the Auror Office has been uncovering is difficult to confirm, so I don't know how much I can say of material fact." He paused. "Bellatrix Lestrange has very nearly disappeared."

"Nearly?" Hermione asked.

"She's been in Knockturn Alley and there have been unconfirmed reports of her appearance in similar locations in France and elsewhere on the Continent."

"She's getting the potion ingredients," Harry stated. "But, how is it possible she'll be able to put it together?"

"There may be a measure of guesswork involved, but we suspect she is depending on someone else to help her get a copy of the exact instructions."

"But there's only one copy," Harry said. "Do you still have it, Professor McGonagall?"

The Headmistress nodded. "Someone attempted to break into my office Saturday."

"Through the Floo network or inside the school?" Harry asked.

"In the hall when we were with your mother," Hermione said, looking to the two adults for confirmation. "You remember when the alarm went off, Harry."

Dumbledore nodded at her statement. "Obviously, she is still in desperate need of that parchment if she hopes to complete what they've begun, and she is willing to use anyone to get what she needs. Unfortunately for her, her accomplice was not able to help her in that area."

"So, let me get this straight. Someone snuck in Saturday, before everything that happened in the dungeons, and no one noticed a Death Eater skulking around the school?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked to McGonagall again. She stared back in response. He turned back to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I--" A knock sounded on the door and the Minister jumped at the sound. "I think we need to involve someone else in this conversation before it goes further down the wrong path." With a wave, Dumbledore opened the door to the office. Draco stepped in, eyes widening when he noticed Hermione and Harry sitting in the chairs before the desk. "Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began, "good of you to join us."

Draco stepped further into the room, his eyes still on the two students in the chairs. "You've told them?"

"No, I believe it is up to you to deliver your news," Dumbledore said. "That is, if you intend to honor what we discussed the other day."

Draco nodded, his eyes briefly shifting to Hermione as she began to glare at him. "I don't know how much of this you've heard, but Aunt Bella was here Saturday. She was trying to get a number of things she'd left in the school."

Both Harry and Hermione moved for their wands at the same time. Draco's hand slipped into his pocket as he continued.

"I don't know what they were for, but she made me--"

Before he could finish the sentence, Harry pulled out his wand and Stunned the blonde boy. He stood from his chair, shaking off Dumbledore's hand as he aimed at Draco again. Draco woke slowly, jumping up when he saw the agitated teenager standing above him. When Hermione moved to stand next to Harry, Draco put up a Shield to protect himself until he fully recovered from Harry's attack.

Hermione shot Harry a look that plainly said see, I was right, before turning to eye Draco. "You've finally done something to surprise me, defying the laws of nature. You've proven it's possible to be a snake, rat and ass all at the same time."

"Attacking me wasn't necessary," Draco said.

"The hell it wasn't," Harry said. "You helped her, didn't you? And you want me to believe you aren't trying to get me killed?"

"I'm not!" Draco yelled. "She threatened to kill me if I didn't help her. We were alone. She would've gotten away with it." He rubbed at his neck absently and then pulled at the fabric of his robes, turning so they could see the bruising on his pale skin. "She dug her nails into my neck so deep she drew blood. Does that sound like I was willingly a part of whatever she's doing? I don't even know why she needed those things."

"What things?" Harry asked.

"She wanted me to come up here and get a parchment, I assume it was the one you stole," Draco said. "When I couldn't get in, she sent me to her office to get a charm bracelet out of her desk."

"A bracelet?"

"What were the charms?" Dumbledore asked.

"A notebook, a snake, a green crystal and some kind of cup." He paused. "It looked like a trophy."

"Was the cup gold?" Dumbledore asked. "Did it have an insignia on the front?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't get a good look at it. She just told me to make sure the cup and notebook were there before I left the office or she'd show me her disappointment in my lack of family loyalty," he said, his brief pout showing his distaste at the memory.

"I could kill you for helping her," Harry said.

"But you won't," Professor McGonagall said from behind her desk. "Albus." When he turned, she nodded in Draco's direction.

Taking her cue, the Minister looked into Draco's eyes. It took Harry a moment to realize he was going through the other boy's memories of what had happened that day. Several minutes later, he nodded, satisfied by what he had seen.

"So, what happens now?" Draco asked.

Hermione raised her wand. "What do you expect to happen to family of Death Eaters?"

"Miss Granger, please," Dumbledore said. "Draco and I spoke the other day. It seems he has taken my advice and decided to help you in whatever way you need."

Hermione turned a look on Dumbledore that spoke volumes on her opinion of that suggestion. Harry couldn't have agreed more. He didn't care what the Minister had seen, Draco had attempted to break into the office to steal the Key for Bellatrix after all Harry had suffered once he'd stolen it. He didn't believe she would really hurt her nephew if he hadn't complied. There had to be more to what had happened that day and was happening now. He hated to admit Hermione had been right, but the last thing they needed was the kind of help Draco could provide. Not that he'd let anyone know he thought that. Harry wanted to see what Draco would try to worm his way back into his trust. He had an idea it would prove interesting.

"It's fine that the Minister believes you can be trusted," Harry said. "Never mind that your aunt threatened you, I still think you'd like nothing more than to see me suffer for what happened to your father. I don't suppose you can provide any proof that you're here to help and nothing else."

"Besides that I could go to Azkaban for helping her?" Draco asked.

"That doesn't mean you'll help us," Hermione pointed out. The hand holding her wand shook. "A threat like that doesn't work if you think you can get away with what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything," Draco said. "Look, this is the only way I can prove it to you. Aunt Bella has started communicating with me--"

"What? How?" Harry asked. He stepped in front of Hermione before she could hex Draco. "How often?"

"Just the once," Draco said. "I can't tell you how, but I don't think it's something that could be traced."

"You'll tell me how if I ask," Dumbledore stated.

Draco didn't respond to this. "She's asking me for information about what you're doing," he said to Harry. "And the search for her. I can give her whatever information you think she should have. She'll have no way of knowing if it's true or not. She's not exactly in a position to come here and verify what's going on for herself."

"You can give her anything we wish her to know?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione turned to him, a look of alarm on her face. Harry wanted to shout his own I told you so in her direction as she realized he'd been right. Dumbledore was willing to let Voldemort get back into a body to put an end to everything. Assuming they were both interpreting that thoughtful expression of his correctly.

"Anything," Draco said. "I can probably give you information from her too."

"Like her location?"

He shook his head. "I doubt Aunt Bella would tell me that. My mother doesn't even know where she is. She knows the information could be tortured out of us," he added.

"As could a number of other things," Hermione said. Harry noticed she'd finally lowered her wand and was now standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot rapidly as she glared at Draco.

"You can accept my help or not," Draco said to Harry. "But I'm going to be giving the Minister any information I can from here on out. It's up to you whether you want to be included in that."

A long moment later, Harry said, "I want to know everything you find out. It can all help." The second he finished his statement, Harry felt his body fill with a cool rage that didn't belong to him. Turning to Hermione, he brushed her fingers away from the crystal around her neck and used his own wand to disable the charm.

"May I leave now?" Draco looked at everyone in the room as he asked this. Hermione looked as if she were going to say something then stopped herself as both the Minister and Headmistress agreed that Draco could go.

"I think I'll follow you," Harry said. Before he could get more than a couple of steps closer to the door, Professor McGonagall walked briskly from behind her desk.

"I'll escort you both outside, and you to Gryffindor Tower," she said to Harry. "I assume you'll be staying there all night," she added. McGonagall turned. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "I'd like to speak with the Minister alone for a few minutes if you don't mind."

"Not at all," McGonagall said. She turned to her open office door. Draco was halfway down the stairs and Harry was in the doorway, arms crossed as he waited. "Shall we?" She stepped past Harry and onto the stairs, knowing there wasn't too much danger in using herself as a physical barrier between the two boys.

The moment the door was closed, Hermione turned, the anger she'd been keeping at bay coming to the fore. "What do you think you're doing?"

Dumbledore didn't appear surprised by this outburst. He merely stared at her as she glared. "I believe you'll have to be more specific, Miss Granger."

Hermione advanced on Dumbledore, her arm shaking as she pointed a finger at him. "You know where these dreams are probably from. Why haven't you told him he's a Horcrux yet? You promised me you would as soon as you had the chance."

"What would you have me do?" Dumbledore responded coolly. "First explain that he is harboring a piece of Voldemort's soul and then preempt his next question with an explanation of how his death is possibly the only way to remove it?"

Hermione paled and lowered her shaking hand. "You said you weren't certain of that. You said he wouldn't have to die. You said--"

"I said being a Horcrux is not necessarily a lasting death sentence," he remarked in a drawling voice, cutting her off. "You're a smart girl, Miss Granger. Surely you've thought of the possibilities to resolve this issue."

She rolled her eyes. He said resolve this issue as if it were comparable to an Ancient Runes text that needed to be deciphered carefully.

"I have," Hermione said after a moment. "Harry would never consider it."

"If there is ever a time when he is out of options, he would not have to."

"In the meantime, you intend to help Draco serve Harry and Neville up to his aunt on a silver platter."

The Minister frowned at her choice of words. "I intend to do the best I can to resolve the situation with as little harm to all parties involved as possible. If there is a way to spare either of them from death, I shall consider it a first option."

Before Hermione could respond to this cold declaration, Dumbledore strode quickly to the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. Before he was gone, Hermione saw something in the bright blue eyes she knew she'd never forget. She saw indifference. A cool indifference to the lives she'd believed until then he wanted to save.