Without Wand or Wire

WolfenMoondaughter

Story Summary:
Summer after the Trio's fifth year. Ron and Hermione get closer, while Harry grows distant from everyone -- including himself. Snape is reunited with someone from his past. Draco's life spirals out of control. Love blooms, and strange alliances are made. Black wings bring strange dreams. What wonders can wireless music and a little wandless magic work? HP/GW, RW/HG, SB/RL (slashy), DM/PP, BW/FD, NT/OC (slashy), PW/PC, SS/OC, AW/MW. Snape, Petunia, Draco, and Pansy redemption. Songfic. Illustrated. WARNING: includes graphic descriptions of self-harm. This fic DOES NOT encourage such behavior, but if you are bothered by the idea of Harry harming himself, even when it's portrayed as something he has to *overcome*, then do not read this fic.

Chapter 24

Chapter Summary:
When Harry and Ron are trapped by an especially nasty boggart, it's the twins to the rescue -- much to Snape's chagrin! Meanwhile, back at Grimmauld Place, there's a less-than-friendly confrontation betwixt Petunia, Draco, and the muggle Sarah. Much happy shippage for Ron and Hermione. Also in this chapter: SS/OC, suggestions of DM/PP, as well as Snape, Draco, Petunia (and suggested Pansy)redemption.
Posted:
09/14/2005
Hits:
2,172
Author's Note:
Sorry it took so long -- I've been out-of-town (and am about to leave for another few days ^^;). ... There's a tiiiiny spolier for HBP in here -- nothing revealing, but if you're a purist, it's only fair for me to warn you ...

"Albus! Albus, wake up! Wake up!"

Dumbledore wasted no time in complying with McGonagall's demand -- he hadn't exactly been enjoying the dream he'd been having, and, despite his exhaustion, was actually grateful to be roused from it.

"I'm up, I'm up!" he told her groggily, as he struggled upright and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. "What's the matter?"

"We've just received word from Molly Weasley -- their house has been leveled!"

That woke him up. Dumbledore threw the bedclothes aside and scrambled to his feet, absentmindedly throwing on his dressing gown as he made his way to the door. He got tangled in the sleeves, and McGonagall helped him as she elaborated, on the way to his office. Albus allowed himself to slow down, just a little, when he learned no one had been hurt -- then picked up the pace again when he learned that Harry and Ron were missing.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

When George arrived in the garden, that mysterious bond that he and Fred, as twins, shared, drew him immediately to his brother's side. By that point, Ron was unconscious, and Fred was close to it. Like Fred before him, George tried to come up with something humorous to throw at the pseudo-dementor, but felt the creature's effects almost immediately. Still, his presence lent strength to Fred, enough so that the young man still had some presence when Snape literally popped into their presence.

Looking like some sort of glam-rock wanna-be.

Laughter bubbled from Fred's lips. Snape wearing black lipstick and nail polish? Having put, wonder of wonders, some sort of styling aid in his hair? And where had the man gotten that coat? It was almost as absurd as the idea of Snape in a granny-dress and vulture-topped hat, like he'd heard Neville Longbottom had used for his first casting of Riddikulus.

Fred looked his brother in the eye, and saw understanding mirrored back.

But we're not afraid of Snape himself! How are we going to get the boggart to change into him so we can cast Ridikulous? George pointed out through the bond he shared with his twin, the one that made it often seem like they were sharing one brain. It was much, much faster than speech, even with more complicated thoughts. It was so useful, they had never told anyone about their ability -- why give up the advantage?

Fred shook his head. I don't think it matters all that much -- I don't think we even need to change the boggart first. The point is to make yourself laugh instead of feel fear. I think Lupin taught us to make our fears funny because when you're surprised by a boggart, it's usually easier to work with what's already there than try to think of something else entirely. But since I can't think of a way to make a dementor funny ... can't hurt to try. And really, Snape's somewhat like a dementor anyway, isn't he? Sucking the joy out of everything? he added with a grin.

George grinned back. All right, Snape in drag it is then!

And before the real Snape, who had been caught in the thrall of the pseudo-dementor himself, could attempt anything against creature, the Weasley twins aimed their wands at it, the shared image of Granny Snape in their minds, and cast the spell.

Snape stared, dumbstruck, at the sudden appearance of himself, in drag, where the pseudo-dementor had been the moment before. Of course, it was just as well that the Weasleys had done something: Snape was not a humorous man, and had never done well against boggarts. But once it was all over, he'd find some way to make them pay for the slight -- even if he couldn't give them detention anymore.

The boggart-Snape jerked his head about in fear and uncertainty before deciding it was about time to attempt that escape. Goose-stepping over the rubble in its skirt, it made a break for it.

Unfortunately for the boggart, Harry, though relieved of the influence of the pseudo-dementor, was not in the best of moods. The memory of Sirius' loss having been refreshed in his mind, he was, thanks to Snape's presence, now also recalling the hatred he's felt towards the ex-Potions Master, the blame he'd cast upon the man over his godfather's death. Still, some small part of him remembered his resolve to remain emotionless, reminded him of how necessary it was, for the safety of everyone he cared about. Picking himself up off the ground, Harry imagined, in a meditative exercise, all his hatred towards Snape coming together into a ball of energy, and projected it towards the fleeing boggart replica of the DADA teacher.

He hadn't really expected what happened next.

The boggart disappeared in a flash of light, a concussive wind blowing dust and debris their way. Snape was knocked back a few steps. Fred shielded Ron's still form with his body, and George tried to cover them both.

His eyes protected by his glasses, Harry remained where he was, unblinking and unmoving.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

Petunia smiled nervously at the young witches and wizard sitting at the kitchen table. She was a bit surprised to find she didnt mind that the kitchen was a bit dark and dank, and outdated by a couple of centuries at least. They brought memories of Uncle Malcolm's old beach house to mind. ...

"Petunia, this is Ginny Weasley ..." Lupin began. Petunia nodded at the redhead, remembering having seen her the previous night. "Fleur Delacour ..." A lovely young lady, a bit older than Ginny, smiled graciously. "... and Draco Malfoy." The pale boy nodded with lowered eyes. She noted that his clothes looked a bit big for him, and it reminded her of Harry -- and Dudley. She blinked tears out of her eyes, and nodded in return. "This is Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt."

Draco looked Mrs. Dursley in the eye now. Hadn't Potter been raised by Muggles? Wasn't that why he'd seemed to know next to nothing about the wizarding world when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts -- and still seemed naive about some things to this day? Draco's curiosity overcame the revulsion towards Muggles that had been programmed into him since the cradle. He'd never really looked at a Muggle before. Aside from her strange apparel, she looked ... well, pretty normal. Somehow he'd always expected Muggles to be malformed or something. He felt a flush of shame for the thought, and looked away.

Draco Malfoy? Wasn't that the name of the bully Harry told me about, the one whose father served that Lord ... Mouldywort was it? Petunia wondered in turn. Maybe not; what would he be doing here?

Petunia gave Remus a tight smile as he handed her a cup of tea, grateful to have something to occupy her hands. She held the cup tightly against the table, trying to calm her nerves -- if she tried to drink, she was sure she would be spilling the contents all over the table. She didn't bother to ask if Dudley had been found; she was certain Dumbledore would bring her son to her straight away. She didn't dare ask was what time it was; she didn't think she could handle knowing just how long her son had been missing. She didn't dare think of Dudley at all, for that matter, nor Vernon. She was determined to keep a brave face in front of these wizards, friends or no. Petunia had spent her entire adult life maintaining a composed facade before her neighbors, and she wasn't about to stop now.

Of course, having them stare at her wasn't helping. She tried to think or something to say, to get a conversation going and draw attention away from herself, but what could she talk to these people about? She had known Remus once, but talking about her sister was uncomfortable territory, and any other common ground they shared was even more so. Well, there was one thing she had in common, not just with Remus but likely the other three wizards as well. ...

"So where's Harry? I notice he wasn't in his bed upstairs -- I take it he's better now?"

"Ah, yes, he's up and about now," Remus told her as he set a plate of cheese, bread, and fruit before her. There was an air of nervousness about him, though; he wasn't telling her something. She struggled hard to chew a bit of the bread, the butterflies in her stomach protesting strongly against the introduction of food into their domain. She knew she should try to pry whatever Remus was keeping from her out of him, but she honestly didn't think she could take any more bad news at the moment.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

Hermione and Fae stumbled from the Floo, coughing. It took Hermione a moment to realise that not all the dust in the air was from their journey, but rather was wafting towards them, from the remains of the house, as if it had been knocked about a bit more. Heart pounding and eyes watering, it took a moment for her to be able to see well enough to spot the Weasley twins, bent over a familiar pair of blue-jeans and trainers. Inhaling sharply, she suffered another round of coughing as she stumbled over to them, with Fae just behind her.

"Ron!" she croaked as she collapsed at his side, reaching out to cradle his freckled cheek with her hand.

"He's all right," George reassured her, with surprising gentleness.

"Yeah, he's just had a nasty shock from the boggart," Fred added, refraining from teasing his younger sibling -- probably because Ron wasn't awake to be upset by it, but maybe also because he really did love his little brother, and was relieved to find him alive.

"But ... we covered boggarts! He did great with that one in our third year!" Hermione pointed out, puzzled.

"Er, well, he didn't know it was a boggart ..." Fred told her, uncomfortably.

"Oh? What was it before it became a dementor?"

Fred was saved from having to tell her by an angry ex-Potions Master.

Satisfied that her cousin was all right, Fae had been about to check on Harry when she'd noticed Snape staring off in the distance, looking shaken. "Sevy? Yeh all right?" she'd asked him, unsettled. She'd seen him worried before, scared for Draco and Pansy, and even for Harry, but never really afraid for himself.

"Get this sodding Glamour off of me, Dagdha!" Snape snapped now, by way of reply. He'd tried to remove the spell himself, as he'd done before, but couldn't seem to manage it this time; perhaps some glitch in her Bardic magic prevented him from succeeding?

Or perhaps, deep down, he was reluctant to let her version of him go. ...

Fae scowled at him. "All right, sheesh! Yeh could ask nicely, yeh know!" She waved her hands and sang, "Finite Incantatem."

"What took you so ruddy long to get here, anyway?" he muttered.

Hermione thought the look on Fae's reminded her of Crookshanks when he was angry. Only prettier.

"Well, gee, I d'know, maybe it was the fact that I cannae make a bloody Portkey!!!," she snarled back.

"Well, maybe if you spent more time practising magic instead of playing with Muggles, and worked out useful spells instead of ways to make me look like a ponce, you'd have figured it out by now!" he drawled with a sneer.

Fae looked as though he'd struck her a physical blow. He might as well have: in retaliation, she slapped him, hard enough to make his teeth rattle. He wasn't sure what hurt him more: the sting of her strike, or the angry tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt her, really, physically or otherwise. It was just that he'd had a fair number of irritations so far that day, on top of worry for his godson and Draco's girlfriend, both students in his own House. ... The twins making a mockery of him was the straw that broke the thestral's back; Snape just knew Fred had been laughing at him when he'd arrived, thanks to the Glamour. Of course, if Snape had actually seen what he looked like with the Glamour on, chances were good he would have been pleasantly surprised. As it was, though, he blamed Fae for his humiliation -- and, indirectly, for the disturbing image of Potter blowing the replica of him to smithereens. Snape was feeling his own animosity towards the boy resurface, in spite of ...

Of what? Snape had the jarring sensation that there was something he was forgetting. ...

He didn't have time to worry about his fuzzy memory -- nor to apologise to Fae, either -- before a flock of wizards came soaring overhead, having Apparated in several miles away, in all directions.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

"Harry and my brother Ron went shopping," Ginny informed Petunia casually. No sense in worrying the woman unnecessarily. And frankly, from the things she had heard of Harry's home life, the youngest Weasley wasn't feeling all that keen on being nice to her anyway. Well, maybe she felt a little sorry for the woman; hadn't Dumbledore said something about her son being missing? ...

"Oh! Er, any idea when he'll be back?" Petunia asked hopefully.

Ginny shrugged and took a piece of cheese. "Hermione's gone to fetch them."

Petunia glanced around the table. "I-is there going to be a party of some kind today?" she asked, gesturing to the wrapped presents.

Ginny's already somewhat frosty countenance grew darker. "There was going to be. ..."

"But not now?" Petunia asked with polite interest.

"Oh, there will be," Remus told them firmly, squeezing Ginny's shoulder. "Today is young Ginevra's birthday," he explained.

"Oh! H-happy birthday!" That's right, she remembered that old witch in the bank saying something about a party, and Ron and Hermione discussing the buying of presents. But ... wasn't it to have been a surprise party? Judging by the scowl on Ginny's face, Petunia decided it was better not to ask. She wondered if the scowl was about the birthday party, or if it was aimed at her.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

Arthur and Molly, riding a two-person broom, were the first to land. Though each of them was deeply shaken at the sight of their ruined home, they wasted no time staring or grieving before joining their sons. Molly threw her arms around her youngest boy; Fred and George assured her Ron had only fainted and was not injured, but she still begged Ron to open his eyes, as if he were at death's door.

Ron came awake with a start, croaking "Hermione!," and scaring the daylights out of his mother as he sat up.

Arthur, whose already ashen features had gone a bit blue, let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding. He smiled weakly at Charlie, Bill, and Percy, who had all landed shortly after their parents. Satisfied that Ron was well, the Weasley men dispersed to pick over the remains of The Burrow, their shared sadness making it easier to set about their task.

"It's all right, Ron, she's fine!" Molly told her boy soothingly. She looked about -- she'd seen Hermione when she'd arrived, but couldn't find her now in the thick crowd that was milling about.

"No, she's not!" Ron insisted, his voice hoarse from his earlier screams.

Being the ever prepared mother that she was, Molly conjured a glass of mint-laced water and handed it to him, ordering him to rinse and spit a few times before drinking the rest, then using a charm to soothe his throat. Dazed, he obeyed without protest.

While he drank, Molly scanned the crowd again for Hermione, finally spotting her with Moody, who had dragged the young witch off to question her, and Harry, who was likewise being grilled. "Ah, there she is!" Molly told Ron, pointing with a smile.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

The awkward silence that had settled over number twelve's kitchen was broken by the timely arrival of first Neville Longbottom, then his gran, via the Floo. Waving the dust out of his eyes, Neville let out a yelp when he spotted Draco, and another when Mrs. Longbottom boxed his ear for not moving out of the way. She didn't notice the young Malfoy herself, but addressed Fleur.

"Hullo, m'dear! I came to see if there was anything I could help with here before heading to The Burrow, and to see if Neville here could help carry any last things over for the party." She next spotted the vast amount of wrapped gifts and crockery on the table. "Why, I thought Molly was going to start on this half an hour ago! It if this is only part of it, little Ginevra's going to be--" and then she spotted Ginny. Mrs. Longbottom was flummoxed. "Someone's let the cat out of the bag, did they?" She gave poor Neville an accusing look.

"It wasn't me!" Neville protested, looking to Ginny for back-up.

Lupin and Fleur shared a glance, wondering what they should say. Remus didn't want to worry Petunia by telling her about the Weasley home's destruction. Fortunately, Mrs. Longbottom didn't wait for an answer, for she'd just noticed Petunia.

"Oh! Mrs. Dursley, was it?"

Petunia nodded with a wan smile. "It's good to see you again, Mrs.... Longbottom, right?"

"Call me Augusta!" Neville's gran nodded with as delighted a smile as the normally-scowling woman could manage, as she shook Petunia's hand. Then, sensing another presence in the room, she turned and spotted Draco, who seemed to be trying to hide behind the mound of boxes. Unfortunately for Draco, his hair colour was just a little too distinctive to really be mistaken for anyone else.

"Lupin, what is young Malfoy doing here?" she asked bluntly, walking around so she could see him more clearly. "The boy's father is a Death Eater, his aunt put my dear boy in St. Mungo's for life, he's made my grandson's life a living hell--"

"Gran!" Neville cried indignantly.

"--and you brought him here? Why, he's probably a Death Eater himself! He should be in a holding cell down at the Ministry!" she finished, shaking with fury.

Petunia didn't look too happy herself, now that her suspicions about Draco being Harry's school tormentor were confirmed. And yet she couldn't bring herself to be outright hostile to the boy; hadn't she been just as cruel to Harry? And she wasn't even ready to face how Vernon and Dudley had tormented her nephew.

Draco stood slowly, eyes downcast, wearing a pained expression. He held out his hands, wrists up, his Dark Mark in plain sight. "Go on," he said quietly. "You're right, I don't belong here. I should be locked up."

"Draco--" Lupin began, moving to come round to the boy's side of the table.

"Don't!" Draco told him, hand's trembling, eyes tearing. "Don't even! You can't tell me it's okay that I killed my father!"

Despite themselves, no heart in the room was immune to pity's arrows. Even Neville, who had suffered terribly at Malfoy's hand, and who had certainly known great sorrow in his short life, could not help but be moved -- and, perhaps, become a little frightened; if Draco could kill his sire, what else might he be capable of now?

"Draco, it's not that simple," Remus said gently. "You were under extreme pressure, he was about to kill Pansy! You were trying to save her. ..."

Draco slumped back down, the tears falling freely now as he drew circles in a little puddle of spilled tea on the table. "For all the good it did," he pointed out, barely audible. "I don't even know if she's alive. ..."

"And you don't know that she's not, either!" Remus protested, sitting near Draco, but not close enough to make the boy pull away. "We're still looking for her!"

Draco let out a derisive laugh. "Why do you think there's anything left to find?"

"What makes you so sure there isn't?"

Draco thought on that a moment. "You found her mirror ... a-and the blood. ..."

Now it was Remus' turn to be thoughtful. "But we don't know that the blood was really hers, do we?"

"Well, that Muggle had her at knifepoint, it makes sense. He probably slit her throat!" He didn't even want to think what the Muggle might have done with the body. Maybe there was still good reason to hate Muggles in general. ...

"Muggle?" Lupin asked, brow furrowed.

"What, you mean that fat wanker what took my cell phone?" asked Sarah as she walked into the room.

* * *
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* * *

Ron scrambled to his feet and ran, stumbling and knocking into people as he went, his heart thundering in his chest. When he reached Hermione, he threw his arms around her and lifted her into the air, spinning her around. When he set her on her feet again, he didn't let her go, but drew her close, sobbing his relief into her hair, her neck, saying "'Mione," over and over.

[Roon and Hermione, reunited ...]

Alarmed, Hermione drew back just enough to take his face in her hands and look him in the eye. "Ron, what's the matter? Are you all right?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment, only let his gaze and his fingers trace the features of her face, both to memorise them and to assure himself that she was real, she was alive. But whatever his own eyes and fingers told him, it was her eyes, so full of questions, like always, that convinced him of the truth. He didn't ever want to stop gazing into those soft brown eyes. again He believed in that moment, with all his soul, that if the light in those eyes ever went out for real, his heart would cease to beat, his chest would cease to rise and fall, and he would tumble to the ground, lifeless. It was his life, as much as hers, burning in those incredible brown eyes.

And as he looked on her, Hermione's own not-too-distant memory of coming upon the demolished Burrow, fearing him dead, came rushing back to her. Her hands caressed his skin, brushing still-wet trails of tears. There was nothing else in her sight but his beautiful freckles and his luminous eyes, blue in a way that wasn't cold, but rather full of life's fire. There was no noise save for his breathing, that glorious sound that confirmed he had indeed escaped the terrible fate of his family's home. Had she ever been so relieved to see him? She didn't think she could bear to be parted from him ever again. Couldn't they stand there, just like this, touching, seeing one another, for the rest of their days? Wasn't there a spell that could freeze this moment in time?

Of course there wasn't, which Hermione later reflected was a good thing, for stopping time would have prevented later events. ...

"Oy, Ron!" Mundungus Fletcher called out from nearby, gripping an oversized cauldron. "Think yer mum will, eh, be nee ... ding ... this?" he squeaked that last as he looked at Ron.

The young Weasley was becoming what Dung had come to consider a very dangerous shade of red in a human being.

But it was Moody that hit Dung with the spell.

"What is it with you and ferrets?" Harry asked Mad Eye with a grin, as he watched a brown ferret lose its hold on the cauldron lip, falling with another, less intelligible squeak.

"Eh? What are you going on about, Potter?" Moody asked, one eye on Harry and the other on Ron and Hermione, who had jumped apart at Dung's cry and were now standing about awkwardly.

Harry remembered suddenly that it was the junior Barty Crouch, disguised as Moody, who had turned Draco into a ferret in their fourth year, not the actual Mad Eye. The moment of levity was quickly weighed down again; he didn't answer Moody as he worked to clear his mind once more.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

"You!" Draco stared at the purple-haired newcomer. "I remember you! You were with the Muggle captives!"

Sarah scowled in recognition herself. "And you were with our captors! You're the son of the guy that walloped me in the first place! What are you doing here?"

Draco flinched at the mention of his father.

Lupin answered for him. "Draco's one of our operatives, Sarah, you needn't worry."

Finding his voice, Draco told them, "Pansy -- the black-haired girl I was with -- she was dragged off by a very large Muggle. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was Hagrid's son, he was so huge! Did you .. did you maybe see what happened to her?" he asked Sarah.

Sarah grew thoughtful. "Yeah ... now that I think on it, I do remember that Dursley kid--" Petunia gasped "--grabbin' a hold of that girl, right before one of those Death Eater blokes started pummelin' me."

"My Dudley!" Petunia grabbed hold of Remus' arm. "That had to have been my son! We have to find him!"

Draco shot to his feet. "And Pansy! If we find one, we might find the other! Your git of a son better not have hurt my girl!" he added with a snarl.

Petunia whirled on Draco. "And what did you expect?Your lot threatened him first! Killed my husband! You just better hope my son is all right!" she spat back.

Ever defensive of wizarding folk because of Tonks, Sarah stepped up. "Your son almost got us all killed! The Death Eaters might not have noticed my call to Nym, if he hadn't yanked my cell away from me and started screaming like a ruddy idiot!"

"Silencio!" Remus cast the spell so that no one in the room but himself could speak. "Now. In case you've all forgotten, we're all on the same side here! Because of Voldemort, we've all lost loved ones, in the last war and in this one! Sarah, the Dursleys didn't ask for the Death Eaters to take them captive any more than you did. It's unfortunate, but entirely understandable, that Dudley reacted as he did. Perhaps you didn't find the Dursley men's company so pleasant, but to Petunia they were a loving husband, whom she's now lost, and a loving son, whose fate is unknown. Have a little compassion, will you?"

Sarah cast her eyes down and nodded.

"Malfoy," Remus continued, "as far as Dudley was concerned, he had no way of knowing that Pansy was there to help him, not hurt him. It's not going to do you any good to hate the boy if Pansy ... well, if she was killed. Remember that it was the Death Eaters' desire to harm Muggles that put him in a position where he felt the need to threaten her, for his own survival, in the first place. Place the blame on Voldemort, if anyone."

Draco bit his lip and nodded as he looked away.

"Petunia, as I said, Draco and Pansy were under cover -- they didn't bring the Death Eaters to Robert's Grove. I imagine they were doing what they could to prevent anyone from being hurt. This was all a misunderstanding -- an extremely unfortunate one, yes, but just a misunderstanding, all the same."

It was Petunia's turn to nod, and she did. But she wasn't thinking about Lupin's words so much as the sudden thought that had crept, unbidden and so unwanted, into her mind: that she was going to have to, sooner or later, face the ugly truths about her husband and her son, and the part she had played in making her son the way he was.

Petunia could see it in their eyes -- in Draco's, the boy who had grown up hating Muggles as a matter of principle; in Ginny's, who hated her over Harry's abuse; and in Sarah's, who was also a Muggle and therefore probably had the most right to say so -- no matter how much they might hate themselves for thinking it, each of them surely believed Vernon had gotten what he deserved. Each of them surely wondered if Dudley was worth saving. Each of them, especially Draco, was surely thinking now, deep down, that it was people like the Dursleys that gave the Death Eaters a reason to hate Muggles in the first place.

And God help her, but -- knowing what she knew now, and having finally accepted that how she had treated Harry was wrong -- she was afraid they were right.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

"So ... are you all right?" Hermione asked Ron finally. "I mean, you looked like you'd seen a gho-- er ..." The old Muggle expression didn't mean much in the wizarding world -- they saw ghosts every day at school! She tried again, "I mean, you seemed really glad to see me!" She laughed nervously.

His heart lurched. "S-shouldn't I be glad to see you?" Harry, Ginny, Bill, they had all been wrong, she did love Victor--

"I just don't see why you were so worried for me -- you were the one who was missing! You had me scared out of my wits, you know! We came here because this is where Fleur said you'd gone, and Harry too, but when we got here we found ... well, this" -- she gestured to the devastation -- "a-and I thought ..." She looked at the ground, tears stinging her eyes at the memory.

That mollified him. "S-sorry!" he offered, shyly. "I ... I guess we really didn't think, when Harry and I wandered off without telling anyone where we were going," he added, chagrinned.

"Listen, Ron," Hermione began, "about why you came to The Burrow in the first place ... you should know that Vict--"

"Potter! Weasley! Thank Merlin you're alright!" called out McGonagall, who had just arrived on the scene with Dumbledore, via another two-person broomstick.

A second later, a Disillusioned Hagrid appeared in the nearby field, along with Sirius's old flying motorbike. Harry's stomach lurched for a moment at the sight, and then he felt nothing, save for the crush of his ribs as Hagrid hugged him, Ron, and Hermione tight, all at once.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

After Remus ended the Silence spell, Draco wasted no time in asking, "So how do we get to this 'Robert's Grove'?"

Remus raised a brow. "You don't. Snape, Dagdha, and Dumbledore have already gone out there to look. The spent the whole night out there, and didn't find anything. Moody's contacted the Muggle authorities -- if either Pansy or Dudley is found, we'll hear. Mrs. Figg is watching the Dursley home, so if Dudley manages to get home somehow without being spotted, we'll know that as well." Petunia's head snapped up at that. "If Voldemort has them," Lupin continued, "he'll contact us; all we can do now is wait."

"Mrs. Figg?" Petunia asked, brow furrowed. "She's one of you? You've been spying on us all this time?"

Lupin sighed. "Not exactly. Arabella is what we call a 'Squib' -- a person of wizarding parentage with no powers of their own to speak of. She's just been keeping an eye on Harry -- we all have, lately. That's how you ended up bumping into Dagdha and Snape -- they were the ones assigned to trail Harry then. Would you rather we left your home unprotected against Voldemort, Petunia? I know, I know, you'd rather not have anything to do with any of us, but we can't always choose our lot in life, so there you are," he said a bit harshly.

Ashamed of her outburst, Petunia stared into her teacup. "I'm sorry, Remus. You're right."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Draco asked. There was such hopelessness in his eyes, Lupin wished he could say everything would be all right, but he wasn't about to lie to his former student.

Instead he repiled, "We live. We go about our business. If we don't, and stay holed up in our homes out of fear ... well, then Voldemort has already won, hasn't he?"

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly, placing a hand on The Boy's shoulder.

Harry nodded. "As well as can be expected, anyway. But ..." he glanced over at Ron and Hermione, "I do need to talk to you."

Dumbledore nodded, understanding. "Let's take it to my office, then, shall we? In fact ..." Her cleared his throat loudly. "May I have your attention, please?"

Everyone stopped picking through the rubble and looked to Dumbledore, curious. If anyone noticed that he didn't stand quite as tall these days, or that the wrinkles around his eyes were more plentiful, his hair a bit whiter, they didn't say anything.

"The rubble will still be here tomorrow, alas. I will place wards to make certain whatever is still salvageable will still be here to find then." He looked pointedly at Dung the ferret. "For now, I believe the Weasleys had planned a celebration. Further, I believe that celebration is more important now, in the face of this tragedy, than ever. Therefore, I offer up Hogwarts as the new location of Ginevra Weasley's birthday party! We will be heading over there momentarily, and I invite you all to join us. Please use the fireplace in the Great Hall as your destination, as it is the largest." He gestured towards The Burrow's Floo, the last refuge of warmth in a place of devastation.

* * *
* * * * * *
* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange rubbed her wrists unconsciously as she, her husband Rudolphous, and Rudy's brother, Rastaban, strolled the halls of Malfoy Manor. Her male companions likewise winced and massaged sore and stiff bits of their anatomy, also uncomplaining. Each of them believed they had wholeheartedly deserved the punishments they had received at Voldemort's hands, for their failures in the Ministry of Magic. When they had been rescued from Azkaban, the Dark Lord had immediately re-incarcerated them at his own demenses. Bella had watched enviously as her brother-in-law, Lucius, along with Dolohov and Avery, had been set free the evening before. Voldemort had whispered to her that he would give her a chance to redeem herself soon enough. And now here she was, with her beloved husband and other brother-in-law, on a mission to find her errant nephew, Draco.

Sadly for Bella and her companions, Voldemort had either forgotten or deemed it unimportant to tell the three operatives certain pieces of information. The first was that he had forced a quite unwilling Draco to take the Mark. The second was that Bella's sister, Narcissa, had tried to stop him from doing that very thing. The third, that the Death Eaters had been quite soundly beaten the night previously. The fourth, that Lucius Malfoy was now dead (by Draco's wand, no less), as were Narcissa, Avery, Dolohov, and about a dozen other Death Eaters (most of which had been accidentally killed by Voldemort himself). Lastly, that there was a very good chance that Draco had not only committed patricide, but was, from the beginning, a traitor to their cause.

Lacking such information, Bella assumed Voldemort was looking for Draco in order to give him the Mark. She did not ask her lord and master why he did not simply ring up her dear sister Cissy via the Glass and request Draco's presence. One did not ask Voldemort anything.

One simply did what one was told.


Author notes: Well, I hope that will last you all a bit, at least until I get back from Dragon*Con next week and can work on the art for the next chapter! I did get a substantial bit of writing done while I was away, so I'm still at least five chapters ahead of the posting. :)

Oh, in case you're all wondering what the tiny HBP spoiler was, it's Mrs. Longbottom's name: Augusta! I got tired of calling her "Mrs. Longbottom, so when Jo finally revealed her first name, I went and changed it in this chapter and the ones after. *Grin*

Next chapter: Dumbeldore and Harry have a talk, Ginny's birthday party begins, Fae an Hermione share a bit of girl-talk, McGonagall mentors Ron, and someone is named Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor. ... Hopefully I won't be so long posting this time!! ^_^; I really appreciate the enthusiasm so many of you have shown -- it's really helped me with my drive! Now if only my shcedule would actually reflect that -- I hate keeping you all waiting!