Harry Potter and the Will to Live

Chapter Five: The Beginning of A Lesser Evil

Harry Potter and the Will to Live

"Harry."

The voice was fuzzy in his ears. He ignored it. It was just so comfortable here, where there was silence and warmth. And he was so tired. So dreadfully, horribly tired after last night. When something landed on his shoulder, he tensed, but stayed in his misty world of sleepy unconsciousness.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry jerked when something hit his desk a couple inches from his head. Alert, he saw his N. E. W. T. Transfiguration class staring at him.

"Sorry, Professor," he muttered, blushing when he heard Malfoy whispering something unintelligible to Parkinson.

"Dumbledore, Potter," she scolded.

Harry sighed and packed up his stuff. "Should I take it with me or just leave it here?" he asked quietly.

"Leave it to Mr. Weasley," she ordered. He thought he saw her give him a small smile before her eyes went back to firm disapproval. He left the room silently and without protest, cursing himself mentally. He knew that he couldn't be sleeping in class, no matter how much he wanted to. McGonagall was the type who didn't let anything go by, even for someone she pitied. At the thought, something similar to anger made his skin flush.

"Banana Puff-Creams," he snapped at the gargoyles. His teeth ground together when he heard them snickering behind his back.

He had his hand on the doorknob when he thought he heard voices and pulled his hand back.

"It's mandatory that I speak to him, Dumbledore, talk to him about what's expected of him."

Dumbledore snapped something angrily. Even as Harry inched his ear closer, his eyebrows rose in surprise, and grim satisfaction. So, Dumbledore did have emotions beneath that calm facade. Harry had grown tired of him acting all cool and wise while Harry raged his point across.

"I told you the prophecy, Cornelius, because I felt you needed to know it as Minister. I will not have you come into his life and order him to do something that is his choice. He has enough to worry about without the Ministry on his back controlling his life."

"You are not his guardian, Dumbledore," Fudge replied, equally infuriated. "In fact, I've already spoken to the Dursleys about the subject and they want him out of their house. Do you know how easy it would be for the Ministry to take him into custody?"

For a moment, Harry stared at the door, then pushed it open. He'd been thinking of walking in, calm and cold like, and state no as matter-as-factly as possible, but the fact that he was actually threatening Albus Dumbledore, and his own life, had him nearly stark raving mad.

"Do you know how easy it would be," he mimicked, "to disappear, where you and your Ministry would never be able to find me, and leave you here in England to be picked off one by one? How dare you!" Harry clenched his fists to keep from attacking Fudge's surprised and mortified face. "How dare you come into this school and actually threaten to contain me!"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steeple his fingers under his chin. Harry knew by the way the Headmaster's eyes twinkled that he was in the free to rant and rave as much as he wanted. Willing to amuse him, Harry overturned a table and loomed over Fudge, causing him to stand in surprised fear. He stepped back, obviously thinking Harry would attack him.

"Dumbledore, tell him to sit down!" Fudge ordered.

Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "Harry, my boy, just the man I had in mind. Would you like to repeat our conversation here to Harry? You did say you wanted to talk to him, give him the rules. Didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry took up, gesturing, "tell me the next step the Ministry has taken to destroy my life. Am I still allowed to eat in the Great Hall or would you rather I be placed in a little purple air bubble? Am I allowed to speak up and take my classes, run outside, or would you rather lock me up inside a cell until Voldemort comes waltzing in whistling and let me out? Oh, yes," he spat sarcastically, "brilliant idea, Minister, fantastic. You really are amazing. I don't know a single person who could possibly be any worse of a Minister than you are! You act as if Professor Dumbledore is trying to kill you and take your place as the true leader of the Ministry. Yes," he said, glaring at him coldly, "I can see it now. Dumbledore in his own office with ten secretaries and impressionable teens like Percy Weasley lined up in nice, neat rows in front of him, and cackling. Dumbledore, you can cackle, can't you? 'Cause if not I don't think you should be able to take his place.

"You really are pathetic," Harry said continued before any of them could answer him. "You'd rather have power than protect the people. Didn't we both say Voldemort was back two years ago? Didn't we tell you that Sirius Black was innocent? Didn't we tell you, specifically, to prepare the public against war and attack? How many people do you believe have died because of your foolish selfishness? Dammit, do something instead of just trying to ruin our bloody lives even more!"

"I'd like to see you do better!" Fudge shrieked. His face had gone purple and his eyes had narrowed with hatred. Harry felt a dark thrill of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach.

"A bloody Death Eater could do a better job at preventing Voldemort than you!" Harry made a gesture of exasperation, meaning it. "Remember my trial? When you wanted to expel me and snap my wand? You met Lucius Malfoy and probably gave him lots of juicy little details about me that could most likely get me captured or killed. But I must say, I should have told you about him being a Death Eater, shouldn't I have?"

Harry gave a sarcastic, cruel sneer. "Oh, yes, I forgot, I DID!"

"Cornelius," Dumbledore said as Harry upended another table of silver trinkets in his rage, "I would think it would be a good time to open the door, step out, and have Minerva escort you to Hogsmeade where you left your very handy guards. Before Harry gets angry."

Harry waited for the door to close and Dumbledore to nod at him before giving a grin, a large, toothy one. The Headmaster himself indulged in a good laugh.

"I believe you have him shaking in his boots, Harry."

Grimly, Harry flicked his wand at the mess. The leg to the chair righted itself and all the broken trinkets repaired themselves and went back to where they were originally placed.

"I believe I'm getting really good at that charm."

"Not to worry if it helps."

Harry cocked his head in consideration as he dropped into a cushioned chair. "I think it does. So, was he really, honestly trying to restrict me?"

"He wanted you to be taken to the Ministry and be placed into protective custody until he found it due for you to fight Voldemort."

"Amazing," Harry said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "how I feel like a mutt being chased by a dog collector for polishing and training. Maybe after they manipulated me to understand hand signals and chase the bone they'll let me out and I'll slay Voldemort with a look." Snorting a laugh, he restlessly shifted.

Dumbledore conjured a pitcher of iced tea and poured them both a goblet of it. Harry took it, trying to piece together how he could have been so comfortable in the Headmaster's office, sitting in front of him, drinking iced tea and nibbling on cracker nubs.

"So why are you here in the first place? Not that I'm ungrateful, mind you, I was getting quite fed up."

"And it's not proper for cool-headed Albus Dumbledore to lose his temper. You're supposed to be the example of diplomacy."

The professor laughed again at the image and nodded. "I suppose that's true."

"I fell asleep in Transfiguration," he explained simply. "I had a bad night and I guess I was just overly tired."

"Did you have a seizure?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. They've pretty much stopped altogether. I figure none of the Unspeakables have been able to learn anything helpful?"

"They're as helpless and clueless as the rest of us. Any visions?"

"Nope. Although I did have this amusing dream for a few minutes of watching Lucius and Fudge bowing down on the floor like dirty mutts begging for forgiveness. It was surprisingly soothing."

Harry laughed at Dumbledore's uncharacteristic snort. "You're feeling chipper today, aren't you?"

"I actually had a few hours sleep during Transfiguration. Ron and Hermione and I had this huge talk last night and none of us left it angrily. Big improvement."

Dumbledore's brows creased. "Have there been many fights lately?"

"Depends on your definition of 'many'," Harry said honestly. "It's just been hard to...connect lately. I've been distancing myself a lot. I don't know," Harry said in response to Dumbledore's unasked question. Dumbledore looked amused at the occurrence. "But I guess it's getting better. I'm just having trouble having an actual conversation instead of monosyllabic answers. Is something the matter, Professor?

It was rare for Dumbledore to look tired and depressed. Harry had seen him look away from him while he'd spoke, which was another uncharacteristic trait for him.

"You are getting to know me better than Minerva, I'm afraid." But he didn't sound unhappy about it. "I need to talk to you about something, Harry, and I'm going to have to ask you to keep it between the two of us. It has to do with a student coming to me, a Death Eater wanting to spy for the Order."

Harry's relaxed stance transformed into a tense, stressed pose with him leaning forward and his elbows were once again placed at his knees. He stayed silent, alert, listening carefully.

"I have considered it, given him Truth Serum, and I believe he really is trying to help. The operation with him would be with me only, and I'm considering you. Yes," he decided on the spot, "I believe you'll have to help me with it, Harry."

"Anything," Harry said instantly, honestly. "You know I'll do anything to help, sir."

"And that's why I'm trusting you with this information. I haven't shared a lot with anyone in the Order recently. I believe there may be a spy in our closer circle."

Harry's heart pounded. "Any suspects?"

"Everyone," he said quietly with a sigh of resignation. "I was close to your parents, Harry. Their deaths and Pettigrew's betrayal lay heavy on me still. I didn't suspect everyone, and I believe their deaths could have been unnecessary."

"I understand," Harry said earnestly. That was why he had trouble telling and trusting people with his secrets. Anyone could be a spy. It was hard to bear, suspecting everybody, even your best friends, but it was safer.

For all involved.

"Do you believe any specific people could be the spy?"

"I know for a fact that Remus and Tonks are clear, as well as Mack and Professor Snape." Harry must have made a face because Dumbledore's went taught noticeably. "Trust me when it comes to Professor Snape, Harry, he is on our side. You can trust him."

"Whatever you say, Headmaster." As if he'd ever trust the slimy, greasy old git.

"I'm serious, Harry."

"I know."

"I want you to stay clear of anyone else in the Order."

"Even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and the twins?" Harry asked uncertainly. In an instant, he was on his feet. "They would never do something like that, something that stupid! Professor-" he said, panicked "-you know that, don't you?"

"I have no choice but to believe it, Harry, I'm sorry. Please sit down. I have much to talk to you about."

Harry sat down, but not because Dumbledore had asked him to. His knees had gone so wobbly underneath him that he was scared that they would collapse beneath him. The Weasleys? Ron and Ginny's parents? The twins? He felt bile rise in his throat. No matter how much he tried to think of it, somehow imagine them betraying him, he couldn't. The conversation was making him sick and troubled.

"The student came to me last week, on Wednesday, with some information that the Dark Lord himself had slipped to the boy. He saved a family of Muggles, three being children under the age of seven, by warning me. I made it seem unobtrusive and had it watched, like an Auror lived close by and saw the flashes and alerted the Ministry.

"He came in the early morning, around two, and kept to the shadows. We can't keep meeting here. You see him often and it would be much easier for the two of you to pass notes. He won't have to see me, but you will. This is important, Harry, and I need you to trust me again on this."

His stomach sinking, he asked, "Professor Dumbledore, what student are we talking about?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said without a hint of hesitation or doubt.

Harry gave a pained grimace of exasperation and jumped to his feet, but he kept his opinions to himself. "I'll help, but I hope you realize that we'd have to be alone sometimes, in dark corridors, sometimes during the middle of the night when everybody is sleeping."

"Are you saying you can't handle yourself with a wand?" he asked with a lift of the brows.

"I don't like being manipulated, Professor!" Harry snarled. The insult to his ego stung a little, especially since the only place he had any confidence or self-esteem was in his defense skills.

Dumbledore stood and held out a hand, palm out, where something shimmered in the light. "I'm only pointing out that you can take care of yourself and, yes, I am aware that I'm putting you in danger, but, as I regret to admit, I've been doing that for several years by keeping things from you. At least now you know what's going on and what could happen. You can be prepared. This is war."

Harry reached forward and lifted the heavy duty, ancient necklace, out of the professor's hand. It was dazzling, the silver that shimmered and heated his palm and the silver pendant, its intricate etching of a snake with emerald eyes, fragile and threatening. It had long, intimidating fangs, and the scales looked sharp as claws.

"I thought it suited you."

"Slytherin," Harry said, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "Sly, cunning, independent and selfish."

"Ambitious, clever, cunning, sly, slick, threatening, independent, and cautious, not selfish. It also stands for bravery and honor, and instinct. You have a mixture of both Harry. Wear that at all times, under your shirt. Don't ever take it off. I have the counterpart, as does Mack, Snape, Minerva, Remus, and several other people. People I'd trust with my life, which is why I'm entrusting them yours."

Harry swallowed. "And I thought you were the one who tried to keep things light and amusing."

"It is what is needed at times like these to keep moral up and strong. Go on. You have Mackenzie now, don't you?"

"Yeah, she won't care if I have a note or not."

Dumbledore dismissed him with a nod and a small smile. Harry shoved his hands back into his front pockets and slowed his pace. He didn't care if he missed any of Defense class. Mack was still teaching them all what everyone else had learned in the D. A. So to him it was basically a review class. Midnight was when he really learned, reading books he'd charmed out of the Restricted Section.

Who'd have thought, he mused, that Draco Malfoy would betray his own father? His entire family, actually. He pushed open the door to Mack's classroom and took his set in the front row between Ron and Parvarti. He nodded at Ron and Hermione, who sat next to him.

Who'd have thought it?

* * * * * *

"You've been awfully quiet today, Harry," Ginny mentioned when they sat at a table in the darkest corner of the Common Room. Harry looked up from his Advanced Potions essay and met her eyes.

"Have a lot on my mind," he said simply and left it at that.

"Did Dumbledore punish you for falling asleep?" Ron asked curiously. "'Cause McGonagall didn't look too upset when she found you conked out over your desk."

"No, he didn't punish me. He gave me some iced tea and we talked." At least that was the truth, he told himself uneasily. This was the type of stuff that people thought was only in nightmares, watching your friends to see if they betrayed you. But he knew Dumbledore was right. They had to suspect everyone.

Even friends that have been like family to him.

"About what? Sirius?"

Harry tensed at the name, then nodded. If that would get them off his back, then he'd lie about it.

"We just talked, relaxed for a few minutes. He's getting really old. This war with Voldemort isn't very easy on him."

Homework forgotten, Hermione leaned back in her chair and stretched. "Who do you think would take over the Order if he got ill or something?"

"Probably McGonagall," Ginny guessed. "I mean, she's the Headmistress of Hogwarts and all, and is probably one of the older members of the Order."

"What Order?" Dean asked, sidling up with Lavander and Seamus in tow. Parvarti took the only vacant seat between Harry and Ron.

When nobody answered him, Dean shrugged. "I'm guessing the Order is something us students aren't supposed to know about, eh?"

"Doesn't really matter," Hermione said mildly with a smile. Harry saw the way her eyes flashed their annoyance at being interrupted. "So, did you guys want something?"

Seamus leaned over Ron's shoulder to read his essay. "That's wrong, mate, I think it's reversed. Moonstone isn't what's put into the potion, its Rovery."

Ron mumbled something under his breath and scratched it out.

"Anyways," Parvarti said," have you asked Dumbledore about the lifetime ban? Hey, didn't you say you wanted to be a Chaser this year, Rinny?"

Ginny flushed furiously at Parvarti's mocking tone. "My name is Ginny, thank you, and I'd say it isn't your business whether Harry wants to go to Dumbledore or not."

"Are you two dating?" Lavander said, gaping.

Harry sighed. "Does that really matter? Anyways, I'll talk to Dumbledore the next time I see him." Harry didn't say another word until the four of them had left, Parvarti and Lavander glancing at Ginny and giggling.

"I'm going upstairs," Ginny said and fled the table.

Gravely, Harry watched her while he leaned over and grabbed her Transfiguration essay. He noticed the due date, cursed.

"Stupid prats," he muttered and started to mimic Ginny's writing.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked.

"Finishing her essay. It's due tomorrow to McGonagall. Since I know what she's asking for, I might as well finish it for her."

He noticed the way they were staring at him. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Are you two dating?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Baffled, Harry glowered at Parvarti's back. "No, Ron, I'm not dating Ginny. If I was, you would know it."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind," Ron said hastily.

Hermione laughed at them both. "Ron, leave him alone. He's got a lot of work to do."

"You should ask her out for the next Hogsmeade weekend, mate."

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione hissed instantaneously. "Stay out of my love life, all right," Harry asked.

"She's my sister!"

"I know that, Ron, and I'm not going to go out with her."

"Why?" This time it came from Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry said with a 'humph' of air.

"Why?" she repeated, even as her mouth twitched.

"Because she's Ginny and she doesn't like me like that! Bloody hell," he said under his breath.

* * * * * *

"Harry, move your right foot up a little. Good stance will assure you good balance."

Harry glowered at Mack, but adjusted his foot accordingly. "My balance is better'n yours, Mackenzie," he told her angrily under his breath as she rearranged his arms, "and you are so going to pay for making me do this."

She laughed at him, then stood back. "Okay, Harry, when I throw the hex at you-"

"I put up my shield and block it," Harry said through ground teeth. He hated being in front of all these people, having them think he was showing off. He locked his knees in position and curled his spine a little so he had better balance.

"Ready?"

Harry didn't have the chance to reply. A wave of blue slashed out of her wand towards him, nearly blinding him in its intensity. On instinct more than plan, he made a cross in front of his face with his arms and said, loud enough to cover the loud roar, "Protectio mel!"

Protect me!

Blue fed into red and mixed with a loud blast to form purple. Harry felt the air swirl and his feet lift off the ground for a moment before it dropped him on the cold stone floor three feet away. Then the room was back to normal, the only sound that of the students' whispering.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Mack pushed herself to her feet as Harry stood, leaning against the wall with a surprised look. "You weren't supposed to put that much power into it."

He hadn't. Harry felt his stomach turn again and nodded to her, his face showing ideal apology, but in all honesty he was screaming on the inside. "Sorry, guess I did go overboard, huh?"

"Overboard?" Ernie MacMillan said in awe. "That's was the wickedest, Harry!"

Several of the others agreed. Harry took his seat again as Mack gestured for Ernie to come up and try next. They were given the rest of the class to talk as people went up to practice with her one-on-one.

"Was that supposed to happen, Harry?" Ron asked as he pulled a chair over to Harry and Hermione's seats. "Mack looked mighty surprised when she landed on her arse 'stead of her feet."

"No," Hermione answered him. "It wasn't even supposed to be visible, but I guess Mack went a little overboard too. At least she got that out before she worked on anybody else."

"Could it have hurt Harry if he hadn't put his shield up?"

She glared at Mack briefly. "It would have done much worse than hurt him," she said quietly, giving Harry a telling look that had him staring at her.

Ron, as usual, was oblivious to the look. "She probably didn't practice the spell. She's a powerful witch, isn't she Hermione?"

She nodded briskly and pulled out her Moonstone essay for Advanced Potions. "One of the best Hogwarts has seen as a professor. She'd have to be, being a Snape."

"How could that make her powerful?" Harry asked, pulling out his own essay, though he knew he wouldn't be getting it done anytime soon. Hermione thought Mack was a spy, he mused dully. He lifted his head and studied her. She did look like the Potions Master, with her long black hair and pale skin. The only difference was the way she glowed with life, happiness. Would she be that happy on Voldemort's side? He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to find out what he was feeling.

Uncertain that she could do a thing like that and that maybe she had, tricking him as effortlessly as he'd trusted her. Angry that he was being forced to think the worst of his friends, especially the girl who'd come so recently in his life and affected it so deeply. How could he have done that? Let her in without a care in the world, as if she'd been there his entire life? How could he imagine Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as the spies more than he could Mackenzie Snape?

Dirty, because he couldn't trust anyone.

He gave up and tuned into Hermione's speech.

"...the Snapes are one of those disgustingly pureblood families. Not a single drop of Muggle blood in his system. That means that her power is at its fullest, not diluted by non-magical blood and heritage. She's pure and from a long line of black wizards and witches. First they sided with Grindlewad and one of the Snapes perished by Dumbledore's own hand once upon a time. Then they went to Voldemort, approving what he had to say, but not so sure of his way of acting on it. Professor Snape is the first of the lot to work on our side." She'd said the last part under her breath, so much that Harry could barely hear her, but he'd already known that. Mack's background was just as soiled as Draco Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Odd how Mack seems so different, isn't it?" Ron asked mildly.

Harry, not for the first time, wished his friend would open up his eyes and take a good look around.

Nobody answered him because at that moment, Mack helped Parkinson to her feet and called for attention.

"Tomorrow bring your homework to class. We'll be finishing one-on-one practice for the next few days as needed. I want you to read up on the Shield Charm and Protego, write an essay on its historical value and where it came from. Oh, and the D. A. has been reinstated."

Harry jerked in surprise, then shot her a shocked look.

"What?" Pansy shrieked, jumping to her feet. "But it can't! It's illegal! Minister Fudge-"

"Can go to hell?" Harry supplied readily.

Several people laughed, but he only saw the Slytherins, looking so righteous in their fury.

As if there was anything righteous about it.

Mack laughed and nodded. "Unfortunately, Miss Parkinson, I must agree with Mr. Potter on that subject. I'm guessing everyone who was in it last year is welcome?" she said hesitantly, looking at Harry, who beamed. "Yes, you are, and those who want to participate can take it up with Harry Potter. You're dismissed."

The sixth year defense class made a noisy exit, clapping him on the back and congratulating him. Harry gave a whoop as he left the class as Hermione pulled Ron into a happy bear hug. It had been a while since something had given him such pure pleasure, he knew, intending to milk it for all it was worth.

"We can work on the Polterin Charm and then the hexes you've been collecting, Harry. I'll put some of our work together." She dashed off, leaving Ron and Harry on the landform above the stairs.

"I haven't seen her this happy in a while," Ron admitted, dropping his bag and taking a seat on the top step. A Gryffindor stopped by to talk and by the time she left Harry was sitting next to him.

"What a great thing to happen," he went on with a burst of uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Harry looked at him oddly, curious. "I mean," Ron continued, "all this gloom and doom stuff was really getting to her."

"Not to you?" Harry asked idly. But he knew his answer and shook his head. Although Ron had shifted uncomfortably, he straightened.

"It does bother me, more than you realize, Harry. I've been trying to cheer you up, but it just hasn't happened. It's stubborn, you are. So I tried to cheer up Hermione, and she's been just as hopeless. Do you think Hermione has a point, about Mack trying to kill you?"

Harry tensed and stared.

During his talk, Ron's face had been pleasant, but serious. Now it went taut with anger.

"I hate it that you think I'm just living, as if I'm clueless as well as stupid."

Again, his friend had shocked him silent.

"This whole thing with the Dark Lord hasn't only affected you. It has me, too, and Hermione. You've been gone too long to realize how serious we take it."

"You've always taken it seriously," Harry insisted. "As serious as I ever did."

"That's the thing, Harry," Ron said impatiently. "If anything, we take it more serious than you do. We're watching from a different standpoint. A different perspective. I've grown up, mate, and I've been here for you the entire time. Something has happened in both of our lives that have changed us. Merlin, Harry, you used to tell me everything. We used to talk about girls like Cho and Parvarti, about homework. Hell, most of the time we just complained and drove Hermione crazy. I miss it. I miss the fact that you keep pretty much everything to yourself. I deserve better."

Harry half-expected Ron to punch him or kick or something, his eyes were so bright with anger, but he just stared out ahead, his hands on his knees.

The fact that he didn't made Harry feel low as slime.

"You're right, y'know," he admitted. Ron looked at him, surprised. That was when Harry noticed that they barely even knew each other anymore. The thought depressed him immensely, but he owed Ron something. Something that needed to be said. "It hasn't just affected me, Ron, and I know I'm acting like that's what happened. I'm having a hard time, a really hard time, losing Sirius. Over the summer it's as if I have no friends, no one I can trust."

For a moment, the anger in Ron's eyes dimmed to hurt, then switched to nothing.

"I can't seem to hold a conversation. It's hard to talk about the simple things like homework nowadays-I don't know why, I swear I don't. I don't recognize who I am anymore when I look into the mirror. I can't see Harry Potter. I can't hear him. It's almost as if someone has possessed me and stolen everything I once recognized."

Ron shook his head. "Don't you see Harry?" His voice was pained. "You're letting it get to you. You let Voldemort steal your identity when Sirius was pushed behind the curtain. That's who you are. I don't know what else to say except that you better learn who you are, if you're still Harry Potter, because I can't relate to you anymore."

The words he didn't say danced like a litany in his mind. Our friendship is crumbling and you're doing nothing but helping it! I can't trust you anymore. Who are you? Can I trust you anymore?

And most importantly, Harry thought he wondered if he still had a friend in the Boy-Who-Lived.

Ron stood. "You're still Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived," he hissed. "You are still the one every girl wants, that every guy wants to be. You're still the one everybody depends on and I'm sick of pretending I'm not damn jealous of you for that. But you're also the one on Voldemort's hit list, the one whose been put through so much that I'm surprised you haven't broke. You're hurting me." Ron hissed those words out, as if he'd had to create them from acid and swallow them. Harry felt his own pain, a slow ripping apart of his cold heart, and wanted to die. "You're hurting Hermione. I can take it, but she can't hold on anymore! I don't want to lose my best friend, but it just hurts so goddamned much I can't breath. I can't do a thing, Harry, I know that, but you've just got to let us in and help you or this friendship is going to start burning at the middle."

It already has, Harry mused dully.

His eyes stung fiercely and his throat was on fire. He wanted to stand, but was afraid his knees would collapse under his weight. Ron walked away, his bag slung over his shoulders and his shoulders slumped in resignation. Harry felt his body shudder once, twice, before it was like a taut bow quivering for release.

Ginny found him like that, shaking and staring, his eyes blank with devastation.

"That's Harry Potter!" Cassie Whitenhol hissed to her girlfriend. Ginny broke away from Colin and her other Fifth Year mates, fell to her knees at Harry's side.

"Has something happened?" she asked, gripping his shoulder in a vice grip.

Harry looked at her, red hair, freckles, brown eyes, so worried and fearful and caring. He felt the need to hug her so bad that he trembled even more strongly and the need to weep nearly became a public occurrence. As if sensing it, Ginny yanked him to his feet and pulled him into an abandoned corridor.

The loss of Ron made him stumble and groan in pain. It felt as if something was eating away at his insides, his heart, clawing at him with claws that ended needle sharp. It was so intense that he didn't even realize that Ginny had taken him to the top of the Astronomy Tower until he stood in the moonlight in front of the large, opened arch window. He fell to his knees, Ginny's arm his only restraint from letting himself roll out of it, into that thick darkness. Ginny put a hand on his chin, making him turn to face her. She leaned forward, framing his face and using her thumbs to stop the trek of tears he wasn't even aware of shedding. He let out a sob that wracked his rebelling body.

He refused to cry, refused to let Ginny pick the pieces up, but the pain was so intense and she looked so strong, so beautiful in the moonlight that it was only a token fight. Even though he desperately didn't want to, his body seemed to have a mind of its own. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he let his head fall down to lie in the valley between her breasts.

And wept.

Her arms were strong and chokingly tight, almost like Mrs. Weasley's hugs, but there was nothing motherly in the embrace. It was of desperation, pain, comfort and understanding. She rocked and held until he could breathe again, until he had the strength to pull away and look at her.

"Ginny," he whispered, his throat making his voice rough and hoarse.

She shook her head and framed his face again. "No words, Harry. Not tonight. No thinking, no selflessness, no words." When he opened his mouth to disagree, she just yanked him with a surprising strength across her lap. His hand gripped her shoulder tightly, bruisingly, as she crushed her lips to his.

"Ginny, we can't-"

But the words went silent as she stroked him there, causing him to tense until the veins in his neck popped with pleasure. He fought it, gripping her shoulders so tightly that she winced, but didn't let go. She was weeping, too, silently, but powerfully. Her hair was mussed and hung in front of her eyes, so much like an animal now that he thought she might have been possessed by a she-wolf. His grip gradually tightened as she stroked, causing him to jerk.

"Stop it, Harry!" she cried brokenly. "Stop trying to pull away!"

And he did. She broke through his defenses, infiltrated his head until it spun. With a fury that came out of nowhere, he fisted his hand in her hair, causing her to cry out in sharp pain, crushed his lips to hers and took. She had been leaning against the edge of the window. Both of them had been at the very edge of it, swaying, nearly falling out. With the fierceness of his attack, she fell back.

Harry followed.

He was rough, bruising her as power and the length of his magic coursed through him. He didn't think, as she'd bid, but ravaged her, taking pain for pleasure and her surrender for granted. He bit her bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed, but she squirmed beneath him, dainty hands skimming over cloth, under it, to reach skin, as he suckled it.

She was trembling for him. For the first time in her young life, she was trembling with the need for a man. The fact that she'd done this to him, Harry Potter, the one who had so much control over his power but still seemed to be rash, the one who had separated himself from the world, and made him hard, gave her a purely dark, feminine spark of triumph. She attacked him herself, ripping his robe over his head. He wore a plain white t-shirt beneath it, and she discarded that as well.

He tore the clasp of her robe, her favorite one that had the engravings of a leaf of on it, and ripped her uniform half over her head. And he saw her, the thing that had formed her from Ginny, Ron's baby sister, into Ginny, her own person.

She sensed by the look in his eyes that he was thinking, that he was beginning to come back, and she wanted him, so savagely and selfishly that she lifted her skirt, unbuckled his trousers, even as he called her name, gripped her elbows with sudden clarity.

And then he was in her, so tight and wet and hot, that he nearly missed the way she threw a hand over her head to grip the leg of a desk in pain. Hot tears poured from her eyes.

Harry pulled out reluctantly, his body screaming, but he knew she was in pain, knew he'd put all those bruises on her. He pulled her into his arms, bare except for his unbuckled trousers. She wore nothing but her skirt and shoes, and he saw her for the first time, a schoolgirl, his friend, Ron's sister. A fifteen-year-old.

He held her tightly, weeping into her hair even as she cried against his chest. They were just two children here, two teenagers who were in so much pain and need that they had nearly destroyed each other.

"Come on, Gin." He stroked her hair and shifted her, then felt the slickness on his pants. She was bleeding. Panicked, disgusted with himself, he set her gently down and helped her put her shirt on. He had his own buttoned when she called his name. He was on his knees beside her instantly.

"Harry," she said, licking her lips," its okay. I'm okay. I'm sorry." Her voice cracked and she began to cry again, but she stood, her skirt covered in blood. "It was my fault. I taunted you; I wanted to help you." She cursed when he stroked her arms, his hands trembling. "I wanted you, Harry. I've always wanted you and I took advantage of your pain."

"Put your arms around my neck, Ginny," he said quietly, and picked her up under her knees when she did. "It'll be okay, I promise. It was my own fault. My fault, I swear. You did nothing wrong."

"But-"

"Nothing," Harry said furiously, "now say it, Ginny, I want to hear you say it."

She shuddered and wept even louder. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said meekly.

Harry nodded and hurried down the stairs. The castle was quiet now, since curfew had passed a few hours before. He cradled Ginny, not caring, and concentrated on getting to Mack before he dropped her.

And destroyed her even more.

He pounded on her door, clutching Ginny to his chest, and found her mumbling against his neck.

"What, baby?" he asked, trying desperately to soothe her.

"I'm sorry," she cried, and then the door opened.

* * * * * *

He held her face against his neck as Mack healed her with a gentle care that brought tears to her eyes. He himself helped Ginny drink her Sleep Drought, then waited, stroking her hair and whispering to her until her eyes fluttered closed and Mack pulled him away.

"We need to talk, Harry," she said quietly, and he knew there was anger underneath it.

And yet, he didn't care.

"I can't leave her!" he said, but Mack's hand was firm. She pushed him onto her couch, then got in his face.

"What did you do, you foolish boy?" she hissed.

Harry shuddered. "Me and Ron had a fight," he whispered hoarsely, "I guess I was really upset because Ginny was next to me, shaking me, and asking me if something was wrong." And look at what she got for caring about me, he mused bitterly to himself. "She took me away from her classmates, up to the Astronomy Tower. I was upset. I kissed her."

He clutched her wrist. "I lost my mind," he said desperately. "She'll be okay, won't she? She won't-"

The fireplace blew green and Dumbledore's head appeared. His eyes went to Harry, who began to weep and yank at his hair. He disappeared for a moment, then came through, robes sweeping the ground.

"Explain," he demanded of Mack as he reached for Harry's shoulder. When he recoiled, Dumbledore's eyes flamed. He grabbed Harry's wrists and pulled them in front of him.

"He and Ginny had a...rendezvous," Mack supplied weakly. "She was bleeding. From what he said, I don't think he forced her."

"Harry," Dumbledore bellowed suddenly, causing Harry to jump and jerk his eyes up. "Tell me what happened."

Harry mouthed airless words for moment, until the Headmaster worriedly shook him. "It's my fault," he said hysterically, "she didn't do anything."

"Mack," Dumbledore said, meeting her eyes. She nodded, then went off to fetch another goblet of sleeping drought.

* * * * * *