Harry Potter and the Moment of Silence

There are no great men, only great challenges that ordinary men are forced by circumstances to meet.
*William F. Halsey

We are, each of us angels with only one wing;
and we can only fly by embracing one another.

*Luciano de Crescenzo

You can't fight a monster unless you become a part of that same monster.

Sherri Lyn CarMikel

Often we have no time for our friends, but all the time in the world for our enemies.

*Unknown

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

*Martin Luther King, JR

Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Name by Goo Goo Dolls

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
'Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away

And now we're grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don't belong to no one
That's a shame

But if you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell em' your name

And scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are

We grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
Reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell em' your name
I won't tell em' your name

I won't tell em' your name

I think about you all the time
But I don't need the same
It's lonely where you are come back down,
And I won't tell 'em your name

Chapter Ten: Hallyanka's Hobby

Harry Potter and the Moment of Silence

"I don't care who did it!" Harry roared, tossing the closest table. He shoved a hand through his hair and growled at Lycander. In an attempt to lower the waves of raw power surging throughout the room, his Qaiul snatched his free hand and squeezed a warning.

"Do you see sparks shooting out of my hands, Lycander?" Harry didn't give him time to answer. "Unless I start levitating something or shooting sparks, don't touch me, all right?"

Harry swung around to glare at Dumbledore. "I don't care what you have to do, Dumbledore, or how extensive it is, but do it all ready or I'll do it for you. I made a promise to Malfoy that I'd keep him safe. He did absolutely nothing wrong, and he nearly died for me. So I'm telling you, and this is not an idle threat, to find out who did this and get rid of them before I find them."

"Harry." After several minutes of thrumming silence between all the occupants in Dumbledore's office, Hallyanka stepped up and slipped her arms around him. "It is not Professor Dumbledore's fault. I am sure he was going to take care of it. Just stop yelling. It will not help Draco."

The fight leaked out of him slowly, almost as if with every move of his arms it opened a hole even wider for it to leak out of. He hugged her tightly, looking at the silent Headmaster watching them. Ron and Hermione were both pale, but steady and holding hands by the door.

Harry was sorry to have scared them all when they'd come to the Hospital Wing. Hedwig and Mal had both been taken care of and were sleeping in uncomfortable cots. Hedwig's wing had been snapped and there'd been a deep slash against her back. Malfoy, on the other hand, had been stabbed in the spleen, which had been magically healed. They would both live.

And Harry was going to make whoever challenged that pay dearly.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," he said sincerely. "I'm really, really sorry, but I'm still going to make sure whoever did this goes to Azkaban." After I have my way with him, he thought to himself furiously. "Come on, guys. Let's leave the Headmaster alone."

Harry was the last to leave, and turned when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me. I know that comes hard to you nowadays, but trust me. The person who did this will pay."

Harry made sure Hallyanka and his friends had gotten on the stairs and went down before saying, in a quiet voice, "Is it possible for Mal and Hally to get different rooms out of Slytherin House? If someone did this to him, they won't hesitate to do it to Hally."

"I'll see what I can do. Hally will spend the night with Hermione in her Head Girl quarters." The hand on his shoulder squeezed. "Don't do anything rash. Promise me."

Harry hesitated. "I promise."

"Don't break your word or my trust, Harry. The person who did this will pay."

Harry nodded. "I promise," he repeated, and went down to where his friends were.

"Hally," he said, slipping an arm around her waist, "you're going to sleep with Hermione tonight, so I guess you're coming back to the Common Room with us."

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "I always wondered why they gave us two beds in my room."

Harry tightened his arm around her waist when Hermione turned to lead the way. "I was wondering if Hally could accompany me on a walk. We'll be quick, Hermione," he said hastily when he saw the refusal come into her eyes. "Please?"

"Okay, but be quick."

Hally smiled and grabbed Harry's hand. Together, they dashed down the opposite hallway.

Hermione let her own hand reach for Ron's. He kissed her on the lips quietly, smiling against them in amusement. "You know they won't be back tonight, don't you, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron, I know that."

"Harry!" She burst into giggles. "Where are we? And why are we here? We have walked this hallway two times already."

On the third, he cuffed her waist and spun her around. She frowned at first, then placed one of her hands over his on her waist. She leaned her head backs and her eyes were glistening with happiness and mischief.

"You are just full of magical surprises, aren't you?"

He leaned his face down and kissed her gently, slipping his mouth into the sweet warmth of her. He lingered, nipping at her bottom lip. He was hard as rock and wanted her so bad, he'd have killed for her. "I was a wizard before I became a Mage."

She turned and slithered her arms up, around his neck, and brought his lips close with a jerky motion. "And you were mine even before that."

"Was I?"

"I'll show you." Again, she took his hand and walked through the door. Everything she'd planned on doing, she'd planned on saying, flew out of her mind like wisps of smoke on a breezy day.

"Oh, oh. Oh, Harry." She lifted a hand to her mouth, her other tightening over his.

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly, and was glad that his vision had been clear enough for the Room of Requirements to copy. He flicked his wrist at the door and sealed it from the outside with a heavy one-sided lock charm and a Thought Charm, which would make anyone who came near the room preoccupied before they came within a corridor of the room.

"How can I not like it?" Tears were in her eyes when she pulled him forward and lifted her head to his. "It is perfect."

The room was dim, lit by dozens and dozens of candles that floated slowly and dreamily around the room, avoiding the canopied bed of red and silver. Silk doused over it, slipping at corners and being pulled back by an invisible hand. There were crystals, too, hanging and floating side by side with small, dim balls of energy in yellow and pink. It was a mixture of colors and, once he'd led her to the bed and she'd sat him down on the edge, textures.

Wonderful, wonderful textures. The silk sheets beneath her bare, cool back, the heat resonating from his warmed skin. The feel of cotton and dried blood that made his robes and slacks. She leaned back, amazed at his power when he'd simply flicked both of their clothes off, and brought him over her. The feel of her hair pressing against her back and neck, the feel of Harry's as it fell atop her breast when he kissed a path down her abdomen, was overwhelming. Emotions of pure love coursed through her and made tears come to her eyes, but they were happy ones. This was her Romane, her Harry. He belonged to her, and she to him.

It was as simple as that, and just as pure.

"I love you," she whispered, and repeated it again when he paused. His own eyes, so intent and bright, met hers. She rubbed a hand over his cheek. "I love you."

He kissed her gently, lovingly, and hoped that it conveyed the feeling that was bursting inside his chest. But he couldn't say it aloud, and she forgave him instantly. She lifted her head and ground her hips against his hard and swollen erection. He stiffened, his back arching slightly, and he groaned.

"You're killing me, Hally."

Good. She wanted him dependent on her. Never would he leave her, she promised herself. He wouldn't be able to. She'd die if he did.

"I love you," she repeated, and then said it again when he slipped into her in one deep, smooth thrust. They were still new to the whole 'making love' scene, but they did whatever came to them instinctively, and more love was formed in that single act than many experienced in their whole life.

It was magic in it's purest and simplest form, and they both knew it.

* * * * * *

When Harry awoke, Hally was sitting at the bottom of the bed, naked, and her form still lightly lit by the floating candles and energy balls. She was hugging one of her legs to her chest. Her hands cupped several of the energy balls, a couple yellows and one pink. They fluttered slightly above her palms and sent streaks of glistening light over the streams of tears that flowed steadily down her cheeks. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so lovely. It broke his heart simply by looking at her.

"Hally?" He sat and crawled to where she sat. "Did I hurt you?"

She smiled. A pearly tear perched in the corner of it. "No. You could never hurt me, Harry." She turned her eyes back to the energy balls in her palms. "They are just so lovely. Wherever did you get the thought of them from?"

He kissed her cheek. "I don't know. In Charms we were learning about making them, but for duels, and they reminded me of you."

She grinned. "I am in your Charms class, remember?"

The corners of his mouth dipped. "I forgot about that. I never get to see you during classes."

"That is because they are meant to be for learning. Not for sleeping."

He grinned at the hint of disapproval in her voice. "You, my dear Hally, are one in a million."

"Good, as you are the only one like you."

"Geez, make what I said sound like an insult." His face flushed. "And I'm not so special."

"Well." She lifted a palm to his cheek. "I think you are."

"Come on." He crawled backwards, bringing her with him. The balls of energy that had been floating above her hand stood stock still for a minute before slowly flying away from the bed. He laid down, wrapping an arm around her waist and spooning her body before his. Then, since he couldn't resist the temptation, he nuzzled her neck. "I wish tomorrow was Saturday so we could just stay here all morning."

She cupped her hand around the one that was curled around her waist.

"You don't sleep in, remember?"

"Ah, yes, but I could pretend, couldn't I?"

Too happy to sit still, she rolled over, pushing him on his back, so she could straddle him. She giggled and leaned down to nip on his lip.

"Ow." He laughed, too, cause it had hurt. "Not that hard, Hally."

"Don't be a baby. A little pain wouldn't hurt."

"A little pain wouldn't hurt?" He grabbed her waist and twisted so their positions were reversed. "A little pain wouldn't hurt?" She gave a roar of laughter when he began to tickle her.

"I take it back, I take it back!" Breathing heavily, still laughing, she threw her arms around him.

* * * * * *

He wasn't sleeping. Ginny found that out as soon as she pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak off over her head. Mal wasn't sitting up or anything, but in the dim light of the single oil lamp in the room, she could see his eyes -those damned, stormy gray eyes- through it all.

"Ginny?" he whispered hoarsely.

It didn't matter that she'd been seen, although that was the last thing she'd wanted. There was pain in his voice, and Ginny Weasley had never been able to ignore anyone in pain. She hurried over, folding the cloak meticulously out of habit and putting it into one of her robe pockets. She grabbed his seeking hand and pulled it up as she rested her elbows on his cot and sat in the bench someone had left by his bedside table. It would come to her later that she'd only grabbed his hand and held it because he'd looked so pain stricken and desperate. It hadn't been her choice, but who was she to deny an ill boy's pained wish?

"It's me, Malfoy."

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face, and then he grimaced. "What happened?"

"What do you remember last, Mal?" Since he looked distraught -and only because of that- she lifted a hand to stroke the hair off his forehead.

"I don't-" He sucked in a breath, his free hand going to his stomach. Ginny snatched that one away, too, before he could encounter the bandages. It would probably hurt like hell if he pressed on it. "I left the Quidditch Pitch because-because someone sent me a note. I was challenged to a duel, in one of the unused Transfiguration rooms. I think someone stabbed me."

"Yeah, someone stabbed you, Malfoy." Unconsciously, she kissed his hand. It didn't go unnoticed by the bed's occupant. "They sent Harry a note. You said they stabbed you in an unused room...? It wasn't the dungeons?"

He shook his head weakly. "No. It was some class on the fifth floor. I'm sure of it. Why?"

"Because Harry's note said he'd find you in the dungeons, and you were there, in Snape's classroom. You don't know who did it?"

He shook his head in irritation. "I would've said it if I'd known. What are you doing here?" He frowned, as if just realizing it was one in the morning.

"I snuck out."

"Wasn't that Harry's Invisibility Cloak?"

She flushed. "I'll tell him I used it later."

"I'm sure you will."

Angrily, she relinquished her grip on both of his hands. "I said I would, Malfoy. I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Well, I don't. Shut up already, Malfoy."

He didn't exactly shut up, but he did take his gaze away, pointed it at the ceiling, and changed the subject. "So Potter saved me."

"Seems like."

"Bloody, perfect, Saint Potter." He smiled reminiscently. "It always was fun to rile Potter; even more to annoy your brother."

She relaxed slightly. "You were a git back then. You might have been with your dad, a Death Eater, when Harry killed Voldemort. You might have died as well."

Malfoy seemed to open his mouth, then hesitated. He pulled his left arm, which had been inconspicuously tucked under a long sleeved robe -Dumbledore would have demanded high secrecy from the Hogwarts matron- and slipped it up. Ginny's face didn't change at all when confronted with the angry black of his tattoo. The color had become a faded, less violent shade of black, but it was still intimidating and ugly.

"You were a spy," she concluded quietly. She lifted a hand and rubbed her mouth as he just as meticulously folded it back under the covers. "Does Harry know?"

"Harry was the second person to find out. I passed him notes after every Death Eater meeting and he was to give them to the Headmaster."

Her eyes widened at that. "I always wondered how you guys got along so well behind our backs, then nearly attacked each other every time you two were around each other in public."

"We're both good actors."

Ginny laid her elbows on his cot and rested her chin on her palms. "I'm worried about him. Have you noticed how much he's changed?"

Malfoy's eyebrows rose elegantly. "Wake up, Ginny, I would have punched him in the face if he'd approached me five years ago."

"There's just...There's something dark in him now. Something that didn't used to be there."

"Gin." He struggled to lever himself up, and winced when he failed. "Okay. I guess I stay on my arse." Sighing, he took her hand again, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it. "That something dark you see in him, that comes from, from, I guess you would call it abusive feelings. He doesn't talk to me about his life with the Muggles, and I don't ask. I already know they weren't happy people, as I believed them to be less than a year ago. He's a modest, humble guy, and he's been forced to change into something monstrous. You can't fight a monster unless you become a part of that same monster. We all have a little darkness in us, and determination. Harry's was just activated, like a Portkey. I was raised with violence. Beatings, yelling, money, politics; none of which were particularly pleasant."

"Your father beat you." Ginny was disgusted at that. "I'm glad that bloody bastard is dead. He's ruined too many lives."

"Did I mention that violence is hereditary?"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy. It is not. You're delusional."

"I'm not, not really. Harry isn't a kid, and maybe that's what strikes you as change. If you think about it, he's been through everything Albus Dumbledore has -or close to- and he's only seventeen. He's got so many things going on in his head and he can't get rid of them unless he sweats it out. Violence is addicting."

Ginny's eyes were challenging when she asked, "And are you an addict?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, and realized just how hopeless it was, this crush on the littlest Weasley. He'd never have her. He wouldn't let himself. "Yeah, I'm an unrecoverable addict, Ginny. So stay away."

A little surprised at the warning -how could it have sounded so much like a threat?- she stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ginny?" She turned. "Don't come alone."

Their eyes held for several long, intense moments, and then she vanished as she yanked out the Invisibility Cloak and cloaked herself in it. A moment later, the door swung open.

Mal rolled onto his side, going breathless as the pain overtook his system, and punched at his pillow in helpless frustration.

* * * * * *

"Potter!"

Harry jerked awake and stared at Professor Locke. Beside him, Ron roused himself out of a deep slumber and tried to pretend as if he hadn't been asleep at all.

"Yes, professor?"

"Why don't you, seeing as you're the only one in this classroom with actual practice, come on up and demonstrate on how to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat?"

Baffled, Harry frowned. "Hand-to-hand combat? I haven't fought anyone."

Locke rose an eyebrow inquisitively. "Would you rather come up and do a presentation or receive detentions for both you and Mr. Weasley tonight?"

Ron elbowed Harry in the ribcage, which made Harry glower at him. He stood. "I've never had a hand-to-hand combat, though, Professor Locke."

"We'll just have to see what you've in you, won't we, then, Potter? Get into your best balance position."

Harry situated his legs and his arms, shaking his hands to loosen his wrists. "Can I ask what we're doing, sir?" he asked miserably. He hated how everyone was now whispering and staring at them. It became apparent, however, that Locke wasn't going to answer. Instead, he swung out with a fist that would have connected with Harry's jaw if he hadn't thrown a hand up on instinct. Something snapped in his head and a moment later he understood why the Geyesh Qaiulees were trained with arm movements.

So it became second nature to use them in a fight.

The instant comprehension was a little late and caused him one fatal pause. Locke used his other hand and punched Harry on the other side of his chin. Harry stumbled, but his balance was impeccable. Lycander had made sure of that almost a year before. Instead of being on the defense, Harry transitioned seamlessly into the offense position, and struck out with a blow to Locke's stomach.

They weren't in front of Harry's peers and his friends. He didn't hear the cheers and boos, or the shouts and clapping after a good hit. Almost like a Muggle camera, all of his instincts were zoned in on the fight. It could have been a fight with Voldemort for all the concentration he placed on Locke.

Harry shot out, was rejected, and was put on the defensive. He ducked a high sharp with Locke's left, stumbled into the professor's desk, and knocked off a good pile of essays onto the floor. He laughed slightly, breathlessly. "So this is what you meant by hand-to-hand combat."

Locke laughed, too, and swept under Harry's foot. Harry jumped and landed, unsteady, one hand going to balance on the headrest of a chair and the other grabbing the fist that wanted to plow into his face. He stumbled back a few steps and lashed out with the chair, hitting Locke in the shoulder. With the force of it, a leg came flying off and went into the audience, and Locke lurched a few steps backwards.

"Good move, Potter," he said, impressed, and lunged just as Harry thought he'd seen him relax. Locke shoved at Harry's shoulder, sending him barreling towards several desks. Their occupants jumped out of the way just as Harry landed on one and slid off. Someone screamed. Harry fell hard on his shoulder, but didn't have time to grimace. Panting, he rolled onto his side and kicked Locke in the gut when the guy came at him. They stood again, fists rocking, feet shuffling. Harry couldn't quite keep the laughter in him.

It felt good to be fighting. Now, he had proof that he was mental. Harry caught one of Locke's fists in his, hit him straight in the nose, and got a punch up the side of his head for his efforts. Locke was grinning. Harry sent a fist into his gut and slammed his elbow down in between Locke's shoulders. His professor collapsed, rolled, and stared up at Harry's face.

"I win," Harry said triumphantly, than gave an 'oomph' of surprise when Locke reached up for his ankles, gave a hard tug, and had Harry flat on his back in the one second it took for him to fall to the harsh stone floor.

"We're tied," Locke countered, than shot to his feet and offered Harry his hand. Harry took it and got to his feet, bruised, a little bit bloody, and feeling better than he had in days. They shook hands, and that was when the ear shattering applause entered his mind. Hally, who had been holding Hermione's hands, dashed over and threw her arms around his neck.

"What were you thinking?" Hermione shrieked at the professor, who wiped at his bloody lip. "You could have hurt him, you bastard! You could have killed him for all we know!"

"Hermione!" Ron gasped, then grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Hermione's face was so pale in fury that she seemed in shock. Her hands were shaking. Ron's face turned puce. "Good fight, Professor Locke."

Locke seemed to be struggling not to laugh. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Potter, you need to see the matron?"

Harry stiffened and gave him a look. Locke chuckled again. "Thought so. Okay, everybody!" he said this last part loudly and to the class at large, who were watching the five of them silently. "Sit back down. I still have an hour with you."

Hallyanka didn't go sit back with the Slytherin, Blaise, who she'd been sitting with before. She sat next to Harry, holding his hand and sending him worried, but most importantly silent, looks. Behind them, however, Ron was struggling to calm Hermione down.

"Deep breaths, Hermione. Deep breaths. That's it. Good girl."

The class was whispering loudly, some in awe and some in complete and utter surprise. There was derision in a couple of the voices.

Harry wasn't liked by everyone. A lot of these people had family members on trial for aiding Voldemort, whether it was simply a Ministry official who'd been threatened or the Death Eaters themselves.

"Silence!" Locke roared, and effectively silenced even Ron and Hermione. "What did Mr. Potter and I just do?"

"What do you mean, what did you do?" Pansy spat. "You fought and obviously went easy on the little twerp."

"Twerp," Harry repeated, loud enough for the class to hear. "After seven years of knowing me, all you can think of is twerp?" He was honestly insulted.

Pansy sneered at him.

"Can someone give me a real answer to my question?" Locke shouted over the rush of voices.

Hally, always the dutiful one, rose her hand silently into the air.

"Miss Questcinzay, please, enlighten the class."

"You challenged Harry to a hands-on duel. Instead of using magic, you used fists, feet, body parts, and anything available to protect yourself against a physical onslaught. It is how a non-magical person would survive in a specific surrounding."

"Who can tell me what sides we represented?"

Seamus' hand jerked into the air, and he began to speak at Locke's encouraging nod. "You started off on the offensive and since you took Harry by surprise he had no choice but to defend himself. Sort of like football."

"Twenty points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Good answers, Hallyanka, Seamus. Do you think you can do that?"

There wasn't a single yes in the entire class. All Harry heard were several vehement 'no's' and a dozen or so heads shaking furiously to show negation. Locke laughed. "Good! You'll learn tons then! First off, Harry, can you assist me again?"

Harry stood and walked to face him. It was less worse when something good was going to become of it.

"Just get into a good standing."

Harry arranged his feet and shoulders again, the twist of his hips and ankles.

"Did you all see that? Are you taking notes?" People began to write at the frustration in Locke's voice. "No, no, no! Never mind now! Just watch, take notes afterward. If you were watching Potter carefully, than you saw how he arranged almost everything in his body. Go slack, Harry."

"You just told me to get into a good balance position."

"Well, now I'm telling you to go slack."

"Yeah, well, you're just moody." Harry put his feet together and relaxed his body completely.

"Okay, I can deal with that." Locke put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Everyone watch carefully. You move your good shoulder forward a little, the bad shoulder back slightly less than you moved forward, and you're going to want to move your upper body a few inches over so your spine's slightly bent. Make sure, before you do this, that your feet are separated. Your good foot goes slightly forward, the other back, and you move your hip. Say that Harry's good shoulder is his right, he's going to want to have his right hip and foot slightly forward. Think symmetric, people, and the law of Murphy."

Harry snorted.

"What's the law of Murphy?" Susan Bones asked from the second row. She was scratching furiously with a quill on a piece of parchment, but was watching them intensely.

"It's a Muggle scientist who studies inertia and the laws of gravity," Hermione said loudly.

Harry sat down after a half-hour of standing in front of the class modeling techniques.

Locke had just earned what came extremely hard and to too few people. He'd earned Harry Potter's respect and loyalty.

* * * * * *

"Why can't we just stay in the Room of Requirements?"

Harry squeezed his girlfriend's hand and led her up the stairs. "Because a rumor's going around. One of these days one will talk to a professor and they'll catch us in there." He dropped the Invisibility Cloak on the floor and took her hand, kissing her cheek. "Plus, it's exhausting trying to keep people out of there. Talk about Snog Central."

She giggled, her eyes taking in the dust and covered furniture. "Then we would be in trouble, would we not?"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to uncover a couch. Hally, following suit, picked the white cloth off of a table. A magnificent cloud of dirt and dust flew into her face, and she waved at it frantically with her hands.

"Dumbledore would probably send Mrs. Weasley here so she could scream and yell at us."

"Why does everyone here disapprove of us being together?"

Harry looked at her. "You do remember that Hermione is ignoring my going out at ten every night, right?"

That got a giggle out of her. "Yes, I remember, but Professor Snape keeps coming into the Common Room to check up on me. Draco keeps covering for me. I am getting a reputation for being quite a sleepyhead."

"Hally, you're weird."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just are. And not everyone disapproves -well, okay, everyone- but it's only because it isn't proper for seventeen-year-olds to be having sex so young. You're not even an adult yet, technically."

"I am too!"

"Hallyanka." He yanked up a worn footstool, rubbed his wrist over it, and set it down. Instead of being dusty and full of holes, it was made out of deep red velvet. "Here, an adult is seventeen. You're still sixteen."

"So."

"So, nothing, people just don't think it's right. We're still kids in their eyes."

Insulted, she dropped the white sheet she held in her hands. "That's absurd. You and I are probably the most mature adults in this school."

Harry wanted to mention that giggling wasn't very mature, but thought she might snap at him.

"Come here," he ordered, and held her hand when she obeyed. "What kind of bed do you want in here? And where do you want it?"

She wanted it in the furthest corner, where the sun couldn't reach their faces. Harry used their bond to enhance his magic and conjured a huge King sized bed with down quilts; they fought over colors for the furniture and decorations, and both compromised with red and silver, and Quidditch posters -and the Darlings, which were Hally's favorite singer band- and a few of her drawings that she'd already made since switching dimensions.

Harry, after they'd finished, walked over to a sketch of him sleeping, his shoulders and chest bare, his scars barely noticeable and his face darkened with coal pencil.

"When did you do this?"

"That night when you first took me to the Room of Requirements. I never did fall asleep."

Harry moved down, saw one of him wearing a dramatic black cape, his lightning bolt scar dark and his eyes firing sparks. His hands were held up towards a dark, menacing shadow.

"If I didn't know any better, Hal, I'd think you were stalking me." It embarrassed him, although not as much as it would have had it been three years ago, that she thought of him as heroic and that intimidating. "Do I look like that?"

"When you're determined," she said, and slid her arms around his waist. She studied her drawings, the one of Hermione and Ginny with their arms around each other's shoulders, and several more of Harry and his friends. There was one of Draco leaning arrogantly against a set of stairs, looking at his nails with his hair slicked back and his cloaks of rich materials.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his brows furrowing. "I don't know how you do it. It looks like you simply used a camera. Do you plan on doing it professionally?"

"Maybe, but I want lots of kids, so I guess it would be a quaint enough job."

Uneasy, Harry separated and went to the window. He rested his hand on the metal bar he'd attached to the window and leaned against the stone archway. A little hurt, Hally sat on the couch and let her elbows rest on her bare knees. It was the second Saturday of the school year, and it was noon. Harry had both the DA and a meeting with Nelly that night. As usual, he was moody, but he seemed a little more than normal to her. She shoved at a strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes, and studied him.

Harry would never understand the way he looked. The way his face was always lifted with defiance, the way his eyes were either dull or fiery, the way his stand was in turns combative and resigned. He was a sting to the emotions. Nobody could look at him, nobody could be around him and feel the magic in the air, on their skins, and be unaffected. He was her favorite subject. There was just so many faces and sides to him that she wanted to exploit them all, and covet them to her chest for her own pleasure.

He would never understand what he did to her system, just when she looked at him.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked quietly.

He let his left temple lean against the stone. "I don't know. Everything, I guess. Tonight's the first meeting for the DA since last year, and I know they're going to ask me how I defeated him."

"Do you plan on telling them?"

Harry swore loudly. "I'd rather hex anyone who looks at me, but as I can't do that, I might just have to. At least describe a little of it. It's better to give a little truth than have them believing a lot of rumor, isn't is?"

"I guess."

They stayed in silence -Hally staring at the floor and Harry out the window- until Harry shoved a hand through his hair and let out a breath.

"What am I doing this for, Hally?"

"Doing what?" She wanted to rise and hug him, just hold him in her arms, but knew she'd be unwanted right now. Because she was feeling depressed and restless herself, she played with her charm bracelet Remus had helped her pick out when they'd went to Diagon Alley.

"Why am I going to fight Olean? Why should I?" He turned to face her, his hands in his jean pockets. "Why should I even try?"

For a moment, her mind was blank. "Hell, Harry, do not ask me. I have no clue why you have to be the one-"

"No," he snapped, "why should I save anyone here? Everyone's mean, rude, selfish, greedy, and full of hate. There isn't any nature; London might as well be just one big solid block of cement and metal. No one here deserves to be saved. So why shouldn't I just let Olean roam through and have his way? He'd be a better leader than Fudge."

"Oh, don't be foolish, Harry." She stood, her black skirt flowing out slightly at the movement. "You do not even have that in you to do that, and you know it."

He did. He did know he'd never be able to just let someone take over his world, but it didn't mean he had to accept the inevitable.

"And there are people that deserve to be saved," she insisted. "There are. Everyone in this school is young, Harry, give them the time they need to grow up." She moved to pick up the Wizarding Wireless, turned it on to one of her favorite stations, and went to lay down on the bed.

"Are you mad at me now?"

She pulled her hair back, shaking her head. "No. I just don't feel so good."

He sat next to her, lifted a hand onto her forehead. "You're a little warm, but maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey anyways." She wrinkled her nose, causing him to grin. "Now you know how I feel. You know, you don't have to wait up for me. You can take a nap and I'll wake you up for the DA."

"Okay. Don't forget me, though, okay? I want to see how good you are at teaching."

"I'm not that good, actually."

She struggled to smile. "That is not what I hear, Romane."

He smiled. "You still call me that. How come?"

"I like it. I was thinking of calling you Romie -you know, for short- but I thought you'd get mad."

He leaned down and kissed her. "You'd have to do something really big for me to get angry with you, Hally."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging when he would have pulled back. He laughed when she eagerly nipped at his bottom lip; to keep his balance, he placed a hand on the quilt beside her hip and leaned into the kiss.

"I've got to go," he said reluctantly, reaching up to disentangle her hands himself. "Hally, baby, I'm already late."

She sighed and let her head fall back onto the pillow. The Weird Sisters were playing "By the Guidance of Your Hand", her favorite song, but she barely noticed until he kissed her cheek and left. She sat up and turned the volume up with the twist of her wrist, and summoned her pad of parchment and special coal pencil.

She began to sketch, her hand pressing down, and let the emotion she felt, the inner turmoil, leak out onto the paper. Then, when the sketch was done, she laid down and curled her knees to her chest.

She couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't come back for her.

When her eyes slitted closed, the sketch of Harry, his hand on the knob of a wooden door, wearing nothing but Muggle jeans and a dark shirt, he looked back with tears in his eyes, seemed to haunt her even in her dreams.

* * * * * *

Harry was reorganizing books when Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the other seventh year Gryffindors came in.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione sidled up, out of Seamus and Dean's hearing. "You look upset."

"Naw. I'm just a little depressed."

"Any reason why?"

"Hmm?" He turned to her, shaking his head. "No, not really. I dropped Hally off at the Hospital Wing on the way here. She isn't feeling good."

Hermione bit her lip. "Is she all right? I haven't seen her all day. Will she make it to the meeting?"

"She's fine -it's probably just the earlier flu bug- and she said she'd try and make it."

Hermione nodded and sent a look over her shoulder as the door opened again and more people -whispering, excited, curious people- filed into the room.

"Harry, are you going to let them ask questions? We've got thirty more people into the club this year, and I think it's all because of you."

Miserable, Harry followed her gaze and watched the enlarged Room of Requirements fill, and then grow even larger at the next burst of people. He spotted the Holcomb twins -who'd been the exception to the after third year rule- sitting next to Ginny, who would be the one to oversee them when they came to the DA.

"I know, I know, but I don't want to talk about it, Hermione. What all should I tell them? There are little kids here and I want to tell them how I used Dark Magic to kill a mass murderer who nearly whipped me to death." He faced her, a small smile on his lips. "You sure you want me to answer questions?"

"Well, the truth won't hurt them more than any of the absurd rumors that are circulating."

"I haven't heard any rumors."

Hermione laughed. "That's because they're about you and nobody has the guts to ask if they're true."

"So they ask you, Ron, and Ginny."

"Yup. Even Mal had a couple tentative inquisitions. Ginny said he bit their heads off and threatened to curse them."

"Well, that's Mal."

"Yes, I guess it is." She checked her watch. "It's time," she told him grimly.

Harry thought of his customary whistle and snatched it off the shelf when it appeared. With a regretful sigh, he looked at the door and walked with Hermione to the front of the room, where Ron sat against the wall talking with his sister and the Holcomb twins.

"Answering questions, Harry?" he asked, standing when Harry approached him.

"Unfortunately, I don't see any other way they'd settle down." He blew the whistle and struggled to fight a grin when several people yelped and clapped hands over their ears. They'd been too busy gossiping to notice what was going on. "Would everyone mind sitting down? We won't be working out right away."

There wasn't a cushion for everyone, so some shared and others just crossed their legs and sat on the carpet.

"Okay, first off, welcome to the first DA meeting of the year. This will be the last year for several of us, who have been here from the first meeting three years ago. At the end of this year I will be choosing one of you to take mine and my friend's positions for the next year."

"So the DA is officially a club now?" Seamus asked, looking smug because he had a girl under his arm.

"Yes. I thought it would be better if three people were chosen to lead, one from each of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Qualifications are pretty easy, show leadership, kindness, a head for leadership, and an O in Defense Against the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Current fourth years, you have it easier. Just do okay in Locke's class and I choose which one of you seems like the best for the job. Ron and Hermione will be helping me choose, so, be forewarned."

Hermione, although she hadn't been aware of what he had just thought of, replied loudly, "It doesn't matter which house you're in, either, we won't be biased."

Zacharias Smith snorted, but instead of commenting on it, said, "What are we doing this year?"

Harry shrugged. "Some extra strong shield charms, hand-to-hand combat -it's important, don't look at me like that- some hexes, and, of course, newer members will be grouped to work on Disarming Charms, the Patronus, and a few others the majority of us have already worked on."

Hermione handed a sheet of paper, and he read off of it. "The Protean Charm, Paralyzation Hex, the Ferna Charm, and several other smaller ones. We're going to focus on defense techniques for the next couple of months, offense the next few, and then we'll have a couple dueling competitions. Any questions?"

No one came forward except a fifth year named Mindy Smith. Harry recognized her from the Common Room.

"Do we win awards if we win the duels?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged. "Sure," he said, "but some of you might want to donate a couple galleons or sickles. All money will go to Ron Weasley until the end of the year, then we'll combine it and I'll take some from the DA vault."

"We have a vault?" Parvarti asked.

Harry smiled. "We do now." It wouldn't hurt to section off a part of his money for the club. It would pay for books and broken wands. Merlin knew broken wands seemed to plague the DA. "If anyone wants to learn a special spell, just come see one of us after the meeting and we'll research it."

He sent Hermione a look, and she stepped forward. "There's a lot of rumors going around about what happened on May fifteenth. Now, be quiet, I want you all to hear me. There are a lot of untrue rumors and we know that you're just dying to ask a few questions. Harry has agreed to answer a few -a few," she repeated adamantly, "and if he doesn't answer it, then he doesn't have to. We'll spend fifteen minutes on this, and then we'll get to work."

"Only fifteen minutes?" Lavandar snorted. "Hermione, don't-"

"Ten minutes," Hermione changed ruthlessly, and enjoyed the way everyone glared at her girly classmate. "Ten minutes or nothing, okay?"

There was a general murmur of agreement from the audiences. Then, at Hermione's nod at Harry, hands shot up in a wild array of colors and enthusiasm.

Harry, a little overwhelmed, pointed at well-known faces. Ernie MacMillan was first.

"Did you really use Dark Magic like the Prophet really said?"

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, sending Hermione accusing looks. Even though they had agreed on him answering questions together, she took the blame and smiled apologetically.

"Yes. I used a very powerful spell that was categorized as illegal for amount of pain and under Dark Magic."

"Fudge says you were remarkably foolish and stupid, but you were a hero nonetheless," a girl he didn't know said matter-of-factly. "How were you foolishly stupid?"

Harry shrugged. "I got caught? I have no clue. Only thing I know is that Fudge won't get re-elected."

"Are you going to compete with him for the position?" Dennis Creevy almost gasped it in complete awe.

Harry laughed, shook his head slowly. "Only a fool would elect a seventeen-year-old hothead who wants nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic. Anyways, why would I want to be Minister?"

A Slytherin shot her hand up and asked before Harry could acknowledge her. "Is it true that the Dark Lord whipped you?"

Harry hesitated. "Yes."

"Can we see your scars?"

"Yeah, come on, Harry!"

"Let us see!"

Harry blew his whistle. "Unless you all want to parade around the room buck naked along with me, you're not seeing a thing. And it's rude and insensitive of you to ask such a stupid question."

Ron and Hermione traded a surprised look. Obviously they'd expected him to blow up or something to the point.

"Next question? Miss Athison."

"How did you get out of it again? Didn't you want to give up?"

She was a pretty girl, one Harry didn't know too well. She was a friend of Luna's and had talked to him once in the hallway.

"Well, for one thing, they underestimated me and my powers. And another, Voldemort -come on, people, he's dead!- was stupid and proud. He never just killed me. Always, always, he wanted to salve his pride, and that's what cost him his life and gave me back mine. And, yes, when you're in that much pain and everything looks hopeless, you just want it to end, even if it means dying."

"How did you survive?" she asked gently.

"I didn't," he said bluntly. "I didn't survive. I didn't do anything for myself; instead, I used anger and it overrode my powers, and it killed a lot of innocent people, and that isn't surviving. It's plain, pathetic, hopeless revenge. I wanted him to feel pain and, by Merlin, he did, but it came with a lot of prices and setbacks."

"How did it feel to kill him? I mean, come on," Smith laughed. "You had to have been feeling pretty cocky when you could have done anything to him."

"Smith," Harry said, considering, "have you ever felt real pain? The kind that you can't scream, the kind that makes you go insane, the kind that can make dozens of mostly kind, sweet hearted people into mass murderers, the kind that comes from having your entire family taken away by a man who has no purpose but to cause misery and despair? Whose stupid prejudices caused millions of Brits and Muggles their innocent families? I didn't feel anything. Not pride, not accomplishment; it was my duty. I didn't do it for me. I did it for my friends, and their families, and the other people he's terrorized. I think you've deluded yourself into thinking killing him was some glorious thing. I murdered a man, Smith. I killed several of them. Am I supposed to feel happy and joyful and full of achievement because I ended lives? You don't feel anything. When I killed him, I was drowned in misery. Nothing got through to me. That isn't good, Smith, that's bad. I will never forgive myself for killing Percy Weasley and Lucius Malfoy, not Voldemort, but those two I do regret. People cared about them. And I ended their lives. You don't feel cocky when you have someone completely under your control, you feel sick and horrible and cold. So cold, Smith, that nothing matters to you. Killing someone doesn't make you feel better. It just makes you numb."

Harry swallowed, then forced a laugh. "Sorry. Guess I got caught up in the question." Had he even answered what Smith had even asked? He had no clue. "Questions are over. Everyone pair up and review shield techniques."

He watched them, then turned to his friends, who looked at him in stunned and sympathetic gazes.

"You never told us that," Ron said quietly. Then he walked away to watch kids in practice.

Harry put an arm around Hermione and Ginny, and hugged them both. "Don't think about it now. We need to teach these kids something."

And they did teach them, but none of them in that room would ever lose the image of Harry Potter talking about mass murder in their entire lives.

* * * * * *