Chapter Twelve: A Dark Future

12:01 a.m., Tuesday morning, Hogwarts Grounds/Outskirts of Hogsmade

Severus Snape strode quickly towards the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wondering, not for the first time, if he had done the right thing. Oh, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t though about his decision first…but somehow, it was in these moments in which he was summoned that he always doubted his choice. After all, Dumbledore had taken him in blindly when he’d sworn to leave The Dark Lord’s side, and he could have had another life.

He could have done the deed for which both Voldemort and Dumbledore credited him. He could have chosen on which side to be in, before it was too late…

But he had had to choose where his loyalties would lay very carefully. Back then, he never knew for sure if the Dark Lord would return, and as Dumbledore offered his a job after his trial, he turned to him, instead. For the time being, he’d tried to disconnect himself from his former acquaintances and the rest of the world he knew, and had managed to forget some things�”until his past had come back to haunt him once more.

His old friend, Lucius, had visited him one night by Floo Powder, giving Severus quite a surprise when he entered his quarters and glanced at the fire. His shock had then been followed by so many horrible memories he had tried so hard to push back in his mind…so many memories that he couldn’t let go of, yet he didn’t want to keep. Lucius, as always, had been unnervingly polite, yet menacing with his words. Choosing just the right things to remind him of, he had regained Severus as a Death Eater.

-- BEGIN FLASHBACK --

“Severus, my slippery friend…I would have never imagined you actually living the life of a school teacher,” he had said smoothly, striding elegantly towards a black armchair and sitting, “Do the children suffice your need to make others feel beneath you? That has always been a gift of yours, I admit…the way you always managed to make people regret ever being born…The Dark Lord always saw that aspect of yours in high esteem,” with a smirk at Severus pallid, nervous face, he continued, “But here you are wasting your time, Severus. Our Master will come back, and he will find us…it is better if we have things planned right from now, don’t you agree? Where does your loyalty lay? Are you really going to choose this Mudblood-loving fool over the most powerful dark wizard to have ever lived? If you believe, out of sheer idiocy, that he saved you from Azkaban’s clutches for anything other than using you as a tool against the Dark Lord…you are wrong, Severus, very wrong. What reason would Albus Dumbledore have for taking a cruel, sullen Death Eater and turning him into one of his little pawns to battle against his worst enemy?” he paused yet again, looking at Severus inquiringly. Snape remained silent, his cold black eyes narrowed in thought, and so Lucius continued again, this time, with a smile of triumph, “But you might be on a quest to find your true identity…perhaps you feel you have made a mistake? That maybe the life you previously chose was not meant for you? If that were the case, it would do well for you to revise your ancestry…generations of pureblooded, noble dark wizards, Severus, all fighting for the dignified cause of ridding the Wizarding World of riffraff like muggle-borns and the blood traitors that dare support them. Do you truly want to dishonor them by choosing to follow Dumbledore? Ah, and of course,” he added, a glimmer of sudden inspiration crossing his eyes, “I needn’t remind you that Dumbledore always favored James Potter�”both in your schooldays and after�”rather than you, and I have no doubt that with his precious son the situation will be no different…if the boy reaches Hogwarts alive,” his eyes flickered over Snape as he grunted in disgust at the memory of his life-long enemy�”the reason for his humiliation, and perhaps, the reason for which he became the man who he was today, driven by a thirst for revenge. Snape’s face went from nervousness to disgust, and then to anger as he remembered everything.

-- END FLASHBACK --

And so here he was now, both a Death Eater and an Order member, believed to be a spy for them by each side. It seemed odd to say this to himself�”he knew it was true, of course, but there were still things not even he understood. Things that were kept shielded from view; memories that brought forth a series of emotions and thoughts that just…confused him further. Things that he had kept from saying to his masters, to anyone else that dared approach him, and sometimes even to himself. Things that he pushed into the back of his mind and tried to forget about them, until someone reminded him of them, bringing them forth to haunt his very existence…

And as Severus walked in the pale moonlight that illuminated the village of Hogsmade, Lucius’ words from seventeen years ago rang in his ears.

“Where does your loyalty lay?”

He still didn’t know the answer to that question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus walked swiftly into the Riddle House, black robes billowing behind him, as he shut the door quietly behind him and proceeded to glare at everyone behind his mask. But it was not long before he noticed several things that were most unusual. For one thing, Wormtail was not in sight, when at this time, he was usually giving Nagini her morning plate of milk. The next odd thing he saw was that almost half of the Death Eaters had been summoned; a most strange occurrence, as the Dark Lord rarely summoned all his followers at the same time�”it would draw suspicion, and although the house was rather big, there just wasn’t enough space for them all. Their presence there on that night suggested something very urgent had happened, although Severus had already surmised so. When he had been summoned, he had experienced, for a brief moment, a raging fit of anger�”in which he supposed he had dismissed Potter and his girlfriend�”until later he returned to his senses and had gotten annoyed at having been summoned on that particular night. Albus had had him Apparating here and there all week with Order business, and the Dark Lord kept summoning him for meetings much more than once a week…and on top of all that he had his infernal students to deal with as well. It was merely Tuesday morning, and he was already longing for the weekend, where he might get in a few hours of sleep, at the least.

And yet, he knew he had to obey the Dark Lord’s summon�”especially when he seemed to be deeply enraged about something.

But what led him away from his muses was the sight of five or six of the Slytherin seventh years, huddled in the center of the group, Draco looking particularly smug; others looking as if they might puke, and others looking utterly terrified.

What the…?

“Welcome once again, faithful friends,” said a cold voice from behind the youngsters, “And welcome to those who have come for the first time, which will certainly not be the last,” Lord Voldemort peered at the small group of seventh years with a look of cruelty, his eyes lingering on Draco for a second, and he walked slowly forward towards the rest of the Death Eaters, who, despite the lack of space, managed to align themselves in a large circle surrounding their Master and the teenagers.

“We are gathered here under two very important occurrences, one less worthy of celebration than the other. Some of you already know of what I speak of, but most do not. Therefore, rather than proceed with the festivities, I shall deal with the more pressing matter at hand,” Voldemort said softly, pacing around the circle with a look of utmost fury, “Yes…I am most displeased to inform you all that one of you have betrayed me. He is not present here, of course…had he been, he would not be alive to listen to Lord Voldemort as he speaks,” he hissed menacingly, and several people shifted uncomfortably at the sight of him in such a temper, “He has fled, taking with him the key to the prophecy. I am speaking, of course, of Wormtail, and the Seer that was brought to me mere days ago�”Sibyll Trewlaney,” he paused, examining the looks of hatred, amazement, and confusion that invaded his Death Eaters’ faces, which were very similar to the expression he wore when he found out.

“I am not completely sure of how, exactly, this came to pass. I am under the impression that he managed to sneak down and get her out whilst no one else was there. This brings us to yet another issue: Where was the person assigned for guard duty that night?” Voldemort asked silkily, his eyes immediately finding the accused amongst his friends, “Delaney�”answer me,” he commanded, glaring at the man through narrowed eyes. The man�”tall, skinny, and raven-haired�”stepped forward in one fluid motion of his long legs. He didn't look much older than twenty, and he gave off an aura of slight timidity. However, as he peered up to the Dark Lord, his eyes showed no fear.

“Master,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice before clearing his throat, “I am deeply sorry. It is I who was assigned for guard duty that night,”

“Yes, I am aware, Delaney. Why do you suspect I called on you?” Voldemort spat impatiently, “And yet you have not answered my previous question. Where were you on Sunday morning, if not guarding the doors of this house?”

“I…I was spending leisure time…with…with my family, My Lord. It was my young one's first birthday,” Delaney's voice was croaky yet again, and small drops of sweat began to creep down his face, “I believe I contacted Malfoy to inform him,” He added, his eyes hardening as he caught a glimpse of Lucius.

“Did you? I believe I have made it very, very clear to you over the three years you have been in my service that your priorities must no longer be your family, our your fiends, but the ideal that Death Eaters stand for. You must put your duties as my follower before anything else,” Voldemort said, “Had you listened, you might have been present for more of your son's petty birthdays,” Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at Delaney's face.

“Master…I beg you…my son, he is but a baby. Please…do not harm him…do whatever you want with me, but please…”

Voldemort laughed, “I won't. He is a pureblood, and it would not be wise to kill those who are gifted of the blood�”who carry the purely magical blood of their ancestors. I will, however, kill you, Delaney. You have failed me one time too many, and I do not appreciate failures,” he said maliciously.

Delaney bowed his head and remained silent for a long, long time, while Voldemort watched him with mingled curiosity and rage at his calmness. Finally, he looked up and straight into his Master's pitiless scarlet eyes, "Do as you see fit, My Lord," he said quietly.

“Oh, I will,” Voldemort said with evil glee, waving his wand at him, “Silentio. No one present needs to hear your worthless screams of pain. I will not give you that privilege,” he said as Delaney's voice slowly faded until no noise could be heard to come from his mouth, “And now…Caries Corium,” he breathed, and instantly, a horrible sight greeted everyone's eyes. Delaney's skin began to disintegrate at a painfully slow rate, and it was only a few minutes before he was on all fours, opening his mouth as if to scream from the pain. His knees twitched and wobbled dangerously, and when the skin that covered them vanished, he fell to the floor completely, gasping�”eyes wide�”in pain.

Severus wretched his eyes away from the sight before him. Yes, Delaney deserved to be punished for his ridiculous decision, but it was obvious the Dark Lord was both seizing this opportunity to intimidate the newcomers and take his temper out on someone�”unjustly. Delaney deserved a Crutacius and an Avada Kedavra, not a Caries Corium…that was to be reserved for far more special cases�”namely Wormtail’s.

Therefore, he instead turned his gaze to the horrified faces of the young, naïve seventh years. Even Draco looked properly squeamish and afraid of such a painful death. His normally cold, narrowed eyes were wide as he realized what the Dark Lord could do. Maybe, Severus wondered, the boy is not yet lost. Perhaps there is still a glimmer of humanity left in him…if that were so, he could be saved from this life. He could be steered away from his father’s influence and placed under Dumbledore’s care…

But a second later, Draco’s expression changed to his usual sneer, and Severus realized he was not afraid, but fascinated by such power.

Delaney seemed very weak now, and had resorted to twitching horribly as he lay on the ground. With a look of disgust, Voldemort finally performed the Killing Curse, and evanescoed his corpse. He turned to the rest of the Death Eaters, a cruel look of amusement crossing his snakelike face, “Malfoy, Snape, Lestranges�”yes, all of you�”Mulciber, Macnair, Dolohov, stay after the ceremony. I have a task in mind for you concerning Wormtail,”

With a look that suggested that nothing relating to that subject was to be discussed for the time being, he turned to the young faces on the other side of the room. Malfoy, a glazed look in his eye, quickly fell to his knees, pulling Crabbe and Goyle down along with him and scowling at them. Theodore Nott, a quiet-looking skinny boy, did the same, though slowly, as if he were taking in the details of everything that was happening. Another boy, Blaise Zabini�”rather short, skinny, with cold eyes and dark hair�”remained standing, his eyes darting from Voldemort to the rest of the Death Eaters with a look of smugness. He was apparently immersed in his thoughts, until Theo nudged him. Glaring at him, Blaise finally shrunk down to his knees.

“Welcome once more,” Voldemort said, a mocking tone to his voice, waving his arms around slightly, indicating the surroundings, “I do not think I need to explain why you are here. I trust it has been made very, very clear to you, and that if you are here, you are willing to enter the Dark Lord’s service,” he paused, looking at them pointedly, as if daring them to say anything, and at their hurried nods, he continued, “Good. I do feel, however, that a warning is in order. After you become a Death Eater, there is no going back. You will be bound to me, and under several obligations if you wish to remain alive. As you have hopefully gathered from the previous discussion, Lord Voldemort does not tolerate betrayal or failure. You must be diligent, and you must realize that your true priority is now your tasks as a Death Eater. Otherwise, you will come to find yourself the target for several…ah…undesirable curses,” anyone who didn’t know who was speaking would have thought, by the words used, that Lord Voldemort meant a nasty hex or something of such nature, but the chilling tone of his voice and the evil, slightly amused look in his eye made the aspiring Death Eaters sure that he meant much worse.

“I trust that, for your sake’s, you have learned from what you have witnessed tonight. But I will undoubtedly be proved wrong in the future, for no one can truly learn things until they experience them,” Voldemort said, a feel of finality in his words, “And now, we shall proceed with the Marking Ceremony, as planned. Severus, arrange them accordingly,” he commanded with a flick of his wand towards the small group of teenagers. Severus nodded and strode forward, giving them all a cold, uninterested glance before he commanded them to their places.

The Marking Ceremony was always a solemn event while it was in process. No one spoke except Voldemort, and there were barely any sounds to be heard except, of course, the reaction of the person when the Dark Mark was imprinted on their skin. It could range from a sharp intake of breath to a full-blown scream, and depending on that, the Dark Lord judged their character. Although he didn’t assign newcomers any important tasks, he took their reaction into consideration in the future.

After the ceremony, there was usually a party arranged for them to celebrate. It was never that same day, of course, as the recently marked needed time to get used to the pain. It was very intense at first, almost unbearable, until later, it mellowed into a dull aching that they got used to. This year, the party was to be held on Saturday night, particularly to avoid issues with classes the next day, and such.

The ceremony lasted for around an hour and a half, and the boys Apparated to the Hogsmade grounds, while the rest of the Death Eaters headed for their homes, excepting those Voldemort had mentioned earlier.

Sitting in an armchair by the fire with his back to them, Voldemort motioned them to come towards him with a careless wave of his hand, “I am offering you an opportunity,” he said, “to compensate for the mistakes some of you have made,” His eyes flickered over Lucius, “or to simply prove to me that you are truly worthy of being in my service. The task I will assign you requires intelligence, patience, sense, and determination, but you must also have a desire to punish Wormtail and a thirst for revenge for his treachery. I chose you, out of all my followers, because I sense you all have the capability to kill without remorse, to intimidate your prey, and because you have been faithful to me. I trust you will not prove me wrong?” he asked softly, a hint of menace in his voice.

“Of course not, My Lord,” Malfoy said, “We shall succeed at whatever you wish for us to do,”

“Indeed,” Dolohov said hoarsely, “We are eternally faithful,”

“Very well, then. My task for you is as follows: Four of you shall trace Wormtail and the woman. Of those four, two will deal with Wormtail�”torture him all that you want, but bring him alive�”and the other two will bring me the woman, but not before searching their whereabouts for anything useful. One of you�”which will undoubtedly have to be Snape�”will search her quarters in Hogwarts for anything that would prove useful. She is bound to have things stored there. You will also have to watch the new Death Eaters…” he added thoughtfully, “Now, that leaves three of you. Those three will hunt down certain Order members…you will only kill a few, as I need at least two alive,”

“But you need not fret,” he snapped at the sudden outburst of murmurs, and rose to his full height, “I have already devised which of you are best suited for what. Dolohov, Rabastan�”you will go after Wormtail. Rodolphus, Macnair�”you shall bring Trewlaney to me and search her current whereabouts. Snape�”you know what to do. And that leaves Mulciber, Malfoy, and Bella to deal with the Order members,” He paused, resting a long, bony finger on his chin as he frowned in thought, “As for specific orders…I want Wormtail tortured, injured even, but not killed. Trewlaney can be tortured if she resists to being brought, but obviously not killed. As for the Order members, listen closely, for these are the ones to be killed: Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. However, you are to bring Aberforth�”Dumbledore’s brother�”and Remus Lupin. The murders are to be done quietly…have your fun, but they are to go by unnoticed. Kill anyone else who interferes,” Voldemort said softly, “Should you disobey my orders in any way whatsoever…you shall face Lord Voldemort’s full wrath…understood?”

The Death Eaters nodded and murmured promises, and Voldemort nodded, “Good. Now, there is a specific order in which this has to be done. The first of you to act will be those that have to bring the Order members. After they are interrogated, you shall use their information to track Wormtail and Trewlaney. As for Snape�”you may act as soon and discreetly as possible,” Voldemort said, and the Death Eaters nodded again to show that they understood, “Very well. You are dismissed,” they all bowed and made their way out of the room quietly, not bothering to look at each other.

When they were finally in the kitchen, Lucius spoke up, “Well, it doesn’t seem like such a hard task,” he commented lightly, “I daresay it’ll be quite enjoyable,”

Dolohov nodded, “I’ll make sure Wormtail regrets what he did,” he said menacingly.

“Ah, come on, Dolohov…don’t take things so seriously. I, for one, am looking forward to a few good murders and tortures,” Bellatrix said breezily, “Should be interesting, don’t you think?”

Rabastan glared at her, “This isn’t about murders or tortures, Bella. I thought you, of all people would take this seriously,” he said, “If we don’t focus completely on the task at hand, this whole thing could blow up in our faces!”

“Shut up, Rabastan, she can say whatever she wants,” Rodolphus snapped, “We all have a different approach at things, but that doesn’t mean we’ll mess up,”

“I agree,” Macnair said, “And Master told us to enjoy ourselves while we completed our task, so we have permission,”

Mulciber and Snape hovered beside them, throwing disdainful looks at their childish banter before Snape glanced at his watch and realized it was getting late. He grabbed his cloak and sent a single nod in his colleagues’ direction before Dissaparating, without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:55 a.m., Tuesday Morning, Sibyll’s house �“ Killarney, Ireland

Wormtail staggered through the door of the house, clutching several bags of enough food to sustain them for about two weeks. A stubborn part of him kept urging him to just use his wand, and then run to hide somewhere else, but he managed to ignore it. There was no way Sibyll would consent to such a thing.

Their interaction was becoming very odd. It wasn’t due to any type of infatuation�”Merlin forbid�”, yet Wormtail couldn’t fathom a way to classify their relationship. Sometimes they behaved like a mother and a young child, with her telling him off for his idiocy and him complaining and begging her to forgive him. Sometimes they behaved like a brother and a sister would, fighting and yelling at each other until they each shut themselves in a separate room of the house. Yet the oddest times of all were when they acted like an old couple, showing consideration for each other and simply caring.

It was very, very unnerving, not to mention confusing,

But another reason Wormtail didn’t leave the house was because he liked it. It was much larger than he had imagined by her descriptions, with 65 rooms. It was a Victorian mansion, and it was built by the lake shore. The house was flanked by huge Oak trees that formed a semi-forest around it, and that forest was surrounded by the lake’s crystalline waters. The inside of the house only enhanced the feeling that one was in a castle, with its sparkly chandeliers, gigantic fireplaces, shiny wooden floor, and fancy furniture. There were numerous kitchens, bedrooms, bathrooms, leisure rooms, reading rooms, and she even had a room for herself, which was specifically used for practicing Divination.

Seeing it for the first time, Wormtail had stared, open-mouthed, and wondered why she had left this house in the first place.

Stupidly enough, he had asked, and to his surprise, he found that her expression was one of nostalgia and pain. At his question, however, she glared at him and returned to her brisk manner by inserting the key into the lock and opening the front door.

Sibyll’s reaction when she caught sight of her house was one of amazement as well. It was spotless, even after all the years that had passed, and after searching the rooms thoroughly, they found that the house wasn’t infected by any type of insect, either.

It was odd, Wormtail thought. He had been paying a lot of attention to her behavior ever since she fell asleep on the bus. She had woken up with a start, nudged him painfully so he could remove the sound-blocking charm she’d casted on herself, and quickly conjured a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write. Wormtail had tried several times to catch a glimpse of her writing, but he was met either with an illegible, tiny scrawl, or a glaring stare from her. She had spoken very little to him during the rest of the trip and while they walked through the city towards her house.

On Monday, she had occasionally ventured out of her room to speak to him, but whenever he asked about the parchment, she’d huff and stomp back into her room, leaving him puzzled. So today, Wormtail had resolved to stop asking and find out himself. He would sneak into her Divinations room�”which was here she seemed to store it�”read the damn parchment, and finally figure out what all the silliness was about.

After tucking away all the food in the first kitchen he could find, Wormtail made his way quietly to Sibyll’s Divination room, which was located beside hers, in the West side of the house. It took around five minutes to reach, and by the time he did, Wormtail was already having doubts about whether this was a good idea after all. He was feeling quite tense now, and he jumped at any type of movement he heard. Sibyll’s snores from inside her bedroom weren’t much reassurance, as they reminded him that she could wake up at any moment and catch him.

Nevertheless, with a slight wince, he opened the doorknob to the Divinations room and entered. As he took a look around, he vaguely noted that he could hardly breathe through the perfumed air that crowded the room. The windows were shut, and covered by transparent reddish curtains that matched the walls, which were a vibrant shade of pinkish red. Wormtail also noted that there was a gigantic mirror covering the wall opposite the door, enhancing the room’s spooky sort of artistic appearance. In the fireplace was a roaring fire, which added difficulty to Wormtail’s already strained breathing. To the right there was a tall oak bookcase, packed with numerous volumes on themes concerning Divination. Beside it there was a large, comfortable armchair covered in various shawls of the kind Sibyll always wore, and a spindly table of a faded silver color. To Wormtail’s left there was a larger, fragile-looking table, which held a crystal ball, various elegant quills, a shoe, two very thick books, and�”bingo�”the piece of parchment she had been writing in for the past two days.

With a delighted chuckle, Wormtail took a few steps toward the table and grasped the thin piece of parchment, marveling at how easy this whole thing had been. With no time to spare, he lowered his gaze to it and began reading, a confused frown crossing his face immediately.

It was some sort of…description. He noted that Hermione Granger�”Potter’s friend�”was mentioned several times, as if the whole thing had to do with her. They were in some sort of valley…a large shadow was mentioned…and…a prophecy? But no, she never described its wording�”the prophecy was merely mentioned to ‘creep out of her lips depending on the child’s decision’…whatever that meant. There was a lot of talk about accepting or declining some information, too, which he supposed was the prophecy.

Finally, there was a line dividing that strange description from the rest of the text. It seemed as if she was analyzing her previous description. Wormtail paused his reading and glanced at one of the heavy tomes on the table, titled The Seer’s Complete Encyclopedia to Dream Interpretation �“ Includes Every Single Word in Five Known Languages, and Their Possible Meaning in a Dream… Apparently, this had been a dream, which made sense, considering she had been taking a nap and had woken up abruptly. But why would she be taking such a far-fetched and confusing dream seriously?

Wait, there was a word written on the top right corner of the parchment…it was almost illegible�”Merlin, this woman needed writing lessons�”but Wormtail finally deciphered it.

Vision

It had been a vision, then? Well, everything seemed to be falling into place�”the long hours she spent in this room, gazing into a crystal ball and reading heavy tomes such as this one, the continuous notes on this parchment…

But why had that Granger girl been in it? What in the world could that buck-toothed Mudblood have to do with this?

Following the description was a gigantic list of the terms she chose to analyze from her dream, but Wormtail skipped it. There had to be something else that would be worth all this trouble…but no, afterwards the only thing she had written was a small note reminding herself to contact Dumbledore.

The traitor. How dare she even consider it again? It’s inevitable that when she does, she’ll have to confess about our compromise, and there’s no doubt that Dumbledore will send some Order members to capture me.

Honestly�”

Suddenly, the creak of a door behind him distracted him from his angered thoughts. He froze, eyes wide, as he realized she had just caught him red-handed.

“You--!” Sibyll choked angrily, “How dare you go through my things?” Wormtail turned, opening his mouth to apologize, when she began to speak again. This time, however, her voice was different�”hard, and rather hoarse�”and her eyes were strangely unfocused. She began reciting something, and by the sound of it, Wormtail registered that it was…a prophecy?

“It shall happen as the fourth month comes to an end..…The battle that has been long brewing shall take place, and the Wizarding World shall be divided into two halves..…He with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall face him in battle…Strength and powers unknown are to be revealed, and friendships will be sealed…..Blood will be shed, innocents will be murdered, and it will not stop until the Dark Lord is defeated….But for the Light to prevail He will be required to join in alliance with Her….And should They not perform in alliance, the future of the Wizarding World will be lost….It shall happen as the fourth month comes to an end…..”

With a few blinks and coughs, she returned to normal, demanding to know what he thought he was doing in her Divinations room. Wormtail stared back, wondering once more if he had done the right thing by sneaking in there.



A/N: * winces * I know, I know, it's been ages since I've posted, but please take into account that school is getting very demanding, and I've had loads of other stuff I've had to take care of.

Sorry, eh?

I don't really have any comments concerning this chapter. I do, however, want to thank all of you reviewers, because the story now has 110 reviews! That, my friends, is fantabulous. =D Thank you all so very much!

Till the next!

Chapter Thirteen: The Ties That Bind

8:11 a.m., Tuesday Morning, Sibyll’s house �“ Killarney, Ireland

“I…I…uh…what?” Wormtail blurted out incredulously.

Sibyll crossed her arms at her chest, “Oh, sure, be that way. Of course we’re not in my Divinations Room, where I just caught you with my personal belongings,” she sneered, “Don’t be stupid. What do you think you are doing in here?”

“How can you ask me such a thing after what you just said?”

“What are you talking about?”

Wormtail rolled his eyes, “Come on, Sibyll. We don’t have time for games. Please, repeat what you just said! I would have thought you’d be more concerned with that rather than your personal belongings!”

Sibyll glared at him furiously for a second; searching him for a telltale sign that he was making things up. However, she only saw truth in his eyes, and she frowned in thought, “I…I don’t remember, Wormtail,” she whispered, probing her mind for something she could have said, but finding nothing.

“Then…then it really was a prophecy,” Wormtail said slowly, his eyes wide from astonishment.

Sibyll’s eyes shot up to meet his, “A prophecy?” She said sharply, “What�”what did I say? What did it involve?” she felt faintly afraid, but was mostly filled with a grim sort of understanding as Wormtail struggled to repeat it again. Everything seemed to fall into place now�”why Granger had been in the Valley of the Sage, why Severus had been summoned so frequently lately, why Dumbledore had been constantly writing letters to the Order members…

They all knew, with the exception of Granger, that the Final Battle was fast approaching.

They were preparing.

The thought of such a thing sent chills down Sibyll’s spine. With an apologetic glance at Wormtail, she reached for her wand, which rested in her robe pocket. He face almost white, she whispered, “I’m sorry for what I'm about to do, Wormtail, but you must know that it is for the best. Dumbledore must hear about this,” Wormtail narrowed his eyes and, after a moment of silence, hurled himself towards her wand. With a sharp intake of breath as he treaded on her foot, Sibyll flung her left elbow at his face and pointed her wand at him, “Fine, if that’s how you want things,” she hissed, and with an angry glare in his direction, she said, “Stupefy!”

Wormtail froze momentarily as the spell hit him, and then crumpled to the floor, unable to dissuade her from casting the spell. With a grim smirk, Sibyll walked around him and towards the oak bookcase. She briefly counted the shelves before seizing a thick book out of the seventh one from the bottom up. Carelessly tossing the book on the chair next to the bookcase, she reached for a small, squashed pouch of Floo Powder from the spot on the bookcase where the book had rested.

“Oh, this is wonderful…don’t look at me like that!” she hissed, catching a glimpse of Wormtail’s face and frowning. After a minute of thinking, she sighed, “I want to go back to Hogwarts…I hate this place. I want to speak with Albus, as well…I need to talk to someone other than you,” she spat, talking in the direction of Wormtail’s body, “And this prophecy business is just too complicated to handle on my own. The only question remaining, I suppose, is whether to take you or not,”

I can’t possibly bring a Death Eater into Hogwarts! It’s enough with Severus running around the place, terrifying half of the student body to death.

But I can’t leave him here completely open to attack and prying eyes…his cronies are bound to be out looking for him by now, and I bet it won’t be long until he’s found. This isn’t exactly a hidden sort of mansion, after all, and he’s heard the prophecy…

With a childish groan of dismay, Sibyll levitated Wormtail’s body and guided it into the fireplace. And as she dropped a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, she enjoyed a mingled feeling of security and happiness at the thought of leaving for her home.

---

8:47 a.m., Tuesday morning, Gryffindor Common Room

Hermione rubbed her eyes sleepily and splashed some cold water on her face. She brushed her teeth and smoothed her hair lazily, trying not to think about the night before. Or rather, her worries from the night before. She really didn’t need to worry about things like that before Charms class. With a sigh, she looked at her tired reflection in the mirror and leant back on the wall behind her.

I can’t do this… She whimpered softly, running a hand through her hair, I just can’t…I’m tired of crying so much…I just feel so…overwhelmed by this. I love Harry, and I know he loves me, but being engaged is just too...it puts too much pressure on us to be a perfect couple…

This is stupid…I should have never agreed to the proposal. What was I thinking?

Wait, what am I thinking now? This isn’t right. I can’t be engaged and thinking I should have never agreed to be!

She rolled her eyes in frustration and unlocked the door. With a small smile and a ‘Good Morning’ to her roommates, she was out of the dormitory. Yet, as she climbed down the stairs leading to the Common Room, she began to feel very dizzy. Before her, the staircase twisted and moved in a snakelike fashion. Bewildered, she extended her arm to the side, clutching the wall for support. She blinked several times, but the room remained the same way. Suddenly, she felt as if she were being lifted in the air and pushed onto the floor violently. She tried to get up, but she felt too weak to act, and slowly, her eyes began to close whilst a soft voice whispered in her ear.

“It shall happen as the fourth month comes to an end..…The battle that has been long brewing shall take place, and the Wizarding World shall be divided into two halves..…He with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall face him in battle…Strength and powers unknown are to be revealed, and friendships will be sealed…..Blood will be shed, innocents will be murdered, and it will not stop until the Dark Lord is defeated….But for the Light to prevail He will be required to join in alliance with Her….And should They not perform in alliance, the future of the Wizarding World will be lost….It shall happen as the fourth month comes to an end…..”

The words were repeated twice in her head, and then, as abruptly as it had all begun, she felt herself coming back to consciousness and got to her feet. Her eyes wide as she replayed the words in her mind, she made a dash for the staircase leading up to the boys’ dormitories. She opened the door and it hit the wall with a loud thud, followed by four groans from the boys that had been sleeping. Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval (Honestly, you’d think we didn’t have class in half an hour!) and headed towards Harry’s bed. She extended her hand and shook him slightly, so that he awoke with a jolt. Frantically looking to his sides, he finally caught sight of her and grasped her hand.

“We have to talk to Dumbledore,” he croaked, giving her a desperate look. Hermione nodded numbly, knowing that he too, had somehow heard the prophecy as well. With a swift motion, Harry was on his feet and pulling Hermione towards the door. Hermione glanced at the other boys, who were drifting slowly awake, and at Ron’s bed, which was empty, before running behind Harry out the door.

She managed to catch up with him at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and noticed that he looked rather tired, “What do you think it meant?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Harry responded with a shake of his head before running towards a staircase leading to the sixth floor. Hermione followed him, worried for him and what she had just heard.

The prophecy obviously referred to the Final Battle between him and Voldemort, but what did it mean by him joining in alliance with ‘Her’ to defeat Voldemort? Is that person me?

Could it be me?

I hardly have any exceptional powers that could be of help to him. How could I possibly aid him in the defeat of Voldemort? If anything, I would be a liability.

Finally, they reached the third floor. Panting, they both stopped before the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. Hermione frowned, “Shouldn’t we have gone to the Great Hall? It’s breakfast time, after all. He’s bound to be there,”

Harry shook his head, giving her a dark look, “I hardly think this is something to discuss in front of the whole school and the staff,” he said, “We can just wait for him in his office. Breakfast will soon be over, anyway,”

Hermione nodded silently, moving towards the gargoyle and giving it the password. It quickly sprang to life, giving her a small bow and moving to the side. Harry gave her an amused look and motioned for her to step forward towards the spiral staircase. The torches were not lit, but light poured from a window high up on the wall, illuminating the staircase considerably and giving both Harry and Hermione a sense of relaxation. As they went up, however, voices broke the silence. With a confused glance at one another, they both listened intently, their bewilderment and worry increasing steadily as they heard more.

“…Albus, how many times will I tell you? I cannot stay there any longer, especially with him around! It is simply not safe, let alone comfortable!” a strangely familiar voice was speaking, but neither of them dared to voice their speculation on who it was. It was simply too far-fetched to be true, “my house is not hidden at all! I have no reason to believe that his friends aren’t already out looking for us. They will find us, Albus, and will not hesitate to take us back to their Master. And he, if I may add, will not hesitate to kill us,”

“He will not kill you yet,” another voice, this one completely familiar, spoke. They were certain of who it was this time. They heard it very frequently, after all. As Professor Snape continued speaking in his usual baritone voice, Harry had a sudden clear mental picture of his sneering face, “He is, of course, unaware of the prophecy, but he still wishes to know how you…uncovered my identity as his spy,” there was a mocking tone to his voice, and both Harry and Hermione became puzzled. What prophecy did they mean? Could they be aware of the one they came to inform Dumbledore about? And what identity were they talking about?

“Honestly, it was pure chance. I was suspicious of you, and I attempted to see your identity in the crystal ball. I merely saw a scene of you passing information to him, and then another of you passing information to us. However, had I known this mess would result, I would have never even tried!”

“I would have thought a gifted Seer such as you would have known from the start,” Severus said, his tone mocking again.

“Severus,” said a warning voice, belonging to Albus Dumbledore, “Let us try not to stray from the issue at hand, shall we? Sibyll, I understand your concerns, but please try to comprehend the other side of our problem. We cannot suddenly bring you back into Hogwarts, because as you know, they are after you. We cannot Obliviate him and send him on his way, because Memory charms can be broken. And, logically, it would put the students and the staff in danger if we harbor him in the Castle. Therefore you must understand why you are to go back,”

“But how will my safety be guaranteed then�”“

“Silence,” Severus hissed suddenly.

“What?”

The voices were suddenly lowered to whispers, and Harry and Hermione were unable to understand what they were saying. They stood before the door, confused as to what they should do next, until they heard the roar of the fire and quick footsteps heading towards them. They glanced at each other and made to walk away, but the door suddenly swung open and they found themselves face to face with Albus Dumbledore.

“Harry. Hermione,” he said, his voice showing no sign that he knew they had heard. Yet the look he was giving them�”despite not being angry�”told them he was well aware of their eavesdropping, “Come in, come in,”

Hermione bit her lip slightly, giving Harry a questioning look. He gave her a small shrug and motioned for her to go inside. She moved slowly towards the center of the room, and stood staring without comment at the surroundings. Even with the lack of dialogue, the large, circular room was not filled with silence. There were small noises coming from strange objects, a low murmur of conversation from the portraits along the walls, the cackling of the fire�”which bore signs of being recently used for Floo travel�”and a vague humming coming from a number of curious silver instruments. Fawkes stood on a golden perch near an enormous claw-footed desk with two chairs in front of it. There were several cupboards and shelves scattered along the room, along with large, open windows that allowed the cool morning breeze to enter the room.

Harry followed her, and glanced behind him at Dumbledore. He had closed the door behind him, and had been whispering to the portrait closest to him. As he made to turn, Harry quickly turned to Hermione and grasped for her hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. She returned it with a small smile, and they both turned to look at Dumbledore.

He gave them a weary smile, “I will not pretend I do not know why you are here,” he said, shrugging, “The quicker we sort things out, the better, right?”

Harry nodded quickly, “Professor, could the prophecy be wrong, by any chance?”

Dumbledore shook his head, “I would hope so, Harry, but it is not so. Sibyll has made a number of two correct prophecies before this one, therefore it is likely that this one is accurate as well,”

“Then, the battle will take place at the end of April?”

“Indeed,”

“And the prophecy speaks of an alliance, as well. Who is the person it refers to?”

Dumbledore gave him a small smile, “Ah, Harry…you are, according to the prophecy, ‘He with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’ and you have to join in alliance with a person referred to as ‘Her’. We have no direct evidence that can corroborate this except a dream Miss Granger and Sibyll recently shared, and considering what it spoke of, I believe we are right in assuming that it is Hermione that will help you defeat Voldemort,” he gave Hermione a small nod, as if to confirm what he was saying.

Hermione frowned, “Professor, although what you say is correct, why would I be the one chosen to help Harry? I possess no exceptional powers, or anything that could be of help. I can hardly be considered worthy of such a thing,”

“When the time comes, Hermione, you will find that you are, indeed, the one fit for the task,” Dumbledore said simply, “I should also advise you not to doubt yourself, for when the time comes, you must be sure of yourself. Doubt is a luxury we cannot have at this time,”

“But Professor�”“

“I cannot explain further, Hermione. I am, like you, mystified by everything that has happened over the last few days. I am sorry I cannot be of more help, but I do not know much more than you both,”

Harry looked up from the floor and gave Dumbledore a quizzical look, “Professor, shouldn’t we be preparing? I can’t be expected to defeat Voldemort with no practice. I need to learn new spells and some dueling training,”

Dumbledore nodded, “I am well aware, Harry. In fact, both you and Hermione should train for this. Therefore, I have spoken to Kingsley, and he has agreed to help you train two nights a week. He will take you to different locations used for Auror training, so you become accustomed to different terrains and can practice evasion. Other Order members will accompany you as well, for your safety,”

Both Harry and Hermione nodded, feeling slightly more cheerful at the prospect of traveling to new places to learn how to battle. “When will we meet with him?” Harry asked.

“Tomorrow night, at eight o’clock, come to my office and I will tell you how to proceed from then on,”

Harry nodded, “And, Professor?” he said tentatively, “I won’t deny that we were listening to the conversation taking place before you let us in, and, well…” his voice trailed off, giving Dumbledore an uncertain look.

“I am deeply sorry, Harry, but I cannot discuss that with you. Those are private matters regarding the Order. If you are to know of them, then you will be told when the time comes. Now, however, you have other things to be concerned about,” Dumbledore’s voice had a stern tone to it, and Harry desisted of the idea of pressing on.

“I would also, of course, request that you both do not tell anyone about your training sessions, what you overheard, and what we have discussed�”especially the prophecy. Understood?”

They both nodded and, sensing the conversation had reached an end, stood up. Dumbledore did, too, and led them to the door. He seemed troubled, and as they were descending the spiral staircase, they heard the outburst of conversation between the portraits, questioning Dumbledore about the things they had just heard.

Harry reached for Hermione’s hand again, holding it tightly as they walked. Almost instantly, though, he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her instead, feeling worried for her. She leaned unto him as they walked, silent, yet speaking to him. Somehow, he thought knew exactly what she was thinking then.

The burden was no longer heavily rested upon Harry, but on both of them. Although he held the power necessary to defeat Voldemort, he would be unable to do so without the help of Hermione, meaning that she was just as crucial in this as he was. Without any of them, Voldemort would never be defeated.

The thought sent a cold chill down his spine.

He didn’t want her to go through all the pressure and worry he felt everyday since he had learned of the other prophecy in his fifth year. He knew how horrible it felt. The strange feeling that you’re alone in the world, or that you aren’t powerful enough to go through with things.

Wrapped in his arms, Hermione was feeling very helpless indeed at the thought of playing such an important role in the Final Battle. Yet she was torn between her instinctive feelings and the words from Dumbledore that she had heard minutes ago.

“…Doubt is a luxury we cannot have at this time,”

And, inside, she began to feel slightly stronger. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had to be strong. Not for herself, but for Harry. His success in defeating Voldemort rested on her shoulders, and she had to help him.

Whether it involved magical skills, thinking, or simply being there, she would help him.

She would not let Voldemort win.

---

A/N: I am going to be brutally honest here. I actually considered declaring the story officially on hiatus because I was so stuck on this chapter. I don't know why. I'm still not happy with it, in fact. It's excruciatingly short, compared to all my other chapters.

However, as you can see, I have introduced an event in this chapter (thier training), so I have something to work with.

By the way, I have written a one shot in the General fics/Historical category, so, feel free to go check it out. Also, I am working on another H/Hr fic, and you can find the banner for it in my bio. I'll post the summary there, too, when I submit this chapter.

So...that's it. Till the next!

This chapter is dedicated to two people. Iarehampster, whose birthday is tomorrow--thank you for being such a fantastic reviewer. You always leave me a comment on the chapter, and fill me in on your life, which is nice. Your reviews always make me smile because of your praise and the things you tell me. =D Thanks so much.

And, the second person is my mother, whose birthday is today. I won't bother explaining why I dedicated it to her, as she already knows, but, I love you, mom!


Chapter Fourteen: Appearances Can Be Deceiving

12:04 p.m., Tuesday afternoon, The Great Hall

Hermione spent the better part of her lunch hour glancing uneasily at the staff table, where Snape was supposed to sit, and glancing back at Dumbledore, willing him to look at her and give her an answer to her questions, which had only increased after their conversation this morning. She had barely been able to concentrate in Charms, yet she supposed she was lucky that Professor Flitwick had taken to giving them theory today rather than a practical class. She could always copy the notes, after all�”not that that set her at ease at all, but still, better than nothing. With a loud sigh of frustration, she set her fork down and began to think about where could Professor Snape have gone before they entered Dumbledore’s office.

Her thinking, much to her dismay, did not have good results. By half-past twelve, she still hadn’t eaten much or managed to come up with any logical explanation. She looked up and saw Harry looking at her questioningly. She gave him a half-hearted smile and said, “It’s nothing…I’m just so confused about all this. Where could Snape be?”

Harry frowned, “I don’t know. But he left just before we entered Dumbledore’s office…he can’t have gone far,” he said in a low voice, and snapped his fingers suddenly, “Maybe he just hid somewhere in Dumbledore’s office so he could talk to him when we left?”

Hermione shook her head, “Then where is he now? And besides, the fire roared before the door was opened. I think he left by Floo Powder,”

“But where did he go? He’s either locked in his office or simply not in the Castle,”

Hermione placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, heaving a large sigh, “And what about those voices we heard earlier? I could have sworn that sounded like…” she paused, giving Harry an uncertain look, “Don’t laugh…I could have sworn that sounded like Professor Trewlaney,”

To Hermione’s surprise, however, Harry nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, Dumbledore mentioned a name when he spoke to that woman, too…”

“Sibyll!” Hermione exclaimed, a little too loudly. Several students looked up from their meals and gave them odd looks, while others snickered at them. With a raise of an eyebrow, Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, who was, apparently, deep in thought.

Harry looked up at Hermione and gave her a grim look, “And she mentioned someone she didn’t want to be with�”maybe he was a liability to her in whatever she’s doing�”and someone that would kill her,” he paused, before voicing out the name in a mere whisper to avoid attracting more attention, “Voldemort’s definitely that last one,”

Hermione nodded, “Probably. Either him or one of his followers. There aren’t much people up to killing, really,”

“Which brings us to this:” Harry said excitedly, “what is she was complaining about having Snape tag along with her to where she’s going? I mean, he’s with Voldemort, and if he’s being pursued by the other Death eaters for any reason, they surely wouldn’t hesitate to kill any of them,”

Hermione frowned, thinking things over, and shook her head, “Dumbledore mentioned something about not being able to keep whoever they were talking about in the Castle. Snape’s already here, so what would the point be?”

“He isn’t now. You never know, they might have been referring to that,” Harry retorted, looking pretty convinced of his theory.

Hermione mulled things over in her mind for a few minutes, thinking that although Harry had a point, it seemed unlikely that Dumbledore would let another teacher just leave like that. After a while, an idea occurred to her. And, although it gave her shivers just thinking about it, it was the best way to make sure if Snape was really out of the Castle or not, “Harry, why don’t we go down to the Dungeons later and see if Snape is there?” she suggested quietly.

Harry’s eyes snapped onto her in surprise, “Hermione Granger is suggesting that we sneak after dark into Severus Snape’s quarters?” he teased, “Are you serious?” His tone was light, yet the last words held certain incredulity that made Hermione feel a touch of indignity.

She raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth to retort with a snappy answer, yet something held her back. She didn’t know if it was the accord they had made, or simply instinct, but something inside her shifted and made her feel guilty for what she had been about to say. She bit her lip slightly, and looked back up at him. The simplicity of the expression in his face was overwhelming. A small grin was playing on his face, and his eyes were alive with playful merriment. He looked like an overgrown little boy, really. With a small smile, Hermione said, “Well, yes. But we could go earlier, and just knock on his door,” she paused, before smirking and saying, “If the idea of sneaking around at night scares you so…”

Harry laughed, “And that, coming from the woman that was terrified to death last time we got caught,” he winked at her, and Hermione felt as if very small insects we fluttering about in her stomach. She laughed out loud at this, finding it curious that she would feel butterflies around him now. It had been so long since she had felt such a sensation around anyone…

She shrugged, “That was one time. No need for it to happen again,”

“We’ll see,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked, grinning.

Harry shrugged innocently, “Nothing. So we’ll sneak in, then?” he asked, enjoying the turn the conversation had taken. So far, his conversations with Hermione were mostly about the odd things that had been happening, or about what might happen in the future. This one, however was silly, unimportant, and yet…it held its special sort of importance, because it brought them together just a bit more. Even if by teasing each other, all they did was flirt, the smiles she gave him were enough to keep him happy for the rest of the day.

A conversation such as this, some might say, was a gift, and Harry agreed full heartedly.

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, wishing it were tamer, and nodded, “Yes, I think it is best,” Harry nodded and there was silence. They continued eating, chancing glazed looks at each other and looking away when they realized they had been staring. In between bites of food and long looks in Harry’s direction, Hermione took to looking at the people around them as well. For the first time, she noticed just how many couples Hogwarts seemed to had, and was surprised. Yet, the biggest surprise came when she saw Luna and Ron sitting at the Ravenclaw table, talking and laughing in a matter very much like the one she and Harry had been just minutes ago.

She raised an eyebrow, and felt the start of a grin appearing on her face. It vanished instantly, though, when she remembered the last time she had seen them talking. Flashes of all the cruel things Ron had said to her in the last few days came to her mind, and the rage she had felt in those moments seemed to resurface.

Yet, as she remembered those times, she began to see things from a different perspective. She pulled herself from her anger, and managed to see something she hadn’t paid much attention to back then. She felt a lump rise in her throat as she thought of all the pain she must have caused Ron, and the wounded looks he had given her before his face contorted in anger and he snarled an insult at her.

Those were empty insults, she realized. Things that he had said to cover up the way he was truly feeling.

And as she thought of these things, she looked at Ron and Luna again and saw them in a different light. If Luna was making Ron feel as happy as he looked right then, then she truly was something. Hermione had never managed to do that, mainly because she always ended up frustrated and proceeded to ignoring him when he was upset rather than cheering him up. Again, she felt guilty thinking about those times. Had she really been so hard on him?

She looked briefly at Harry was he ate his food and looked back at Ron and Luna. With a smile, she thought that maybe Luna was what Ron needed now. Maybe things would turn out well for everyone after all.

Her smile grew more at the thought.

Harry smiled as he saw Hermione looking serenely at the surroundings, a curiously large smile playing on her face. He didn’t bother trying to figure out what she might be thinking�”she was a woman, after all. Women, for some reason, seemed to reel around in their minds, drifting in seconds from thought to thought, relishing the memories and the safe confines of the mind. Trying to figure out what she might be thinking about would be like trying to catch the wind�”whenever he thought he had it, it just so happened to be long gone.

Despite not being able to figure out what was going through her mind, however, he felt comfort in seeing her looking so calm and happy

And as she looked back at him and their eyes locked, he felt as if everything around them disappeared and there was nothing else that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9:22 p.m., Tuesday night, The Dungeons

The atmosphere in the Dungeons was not much more different than it had been the last time they had been there. It was cold, damp, and utterly spooky. Deep inside, Hermione was starting to regret suggesting coming here, but her desire to try and solve the mystery of all the odd things that were going on was overpowering.

As they walked around the maze of doors�”everything looked so different in the dark�”they both wondered what they would find if they ever reached Snape’s quarters. They decided that, just to be secure, they would also check the classroom, but they doubted he would be there. Any student could barge in there�”not that any of them felt the urge to.

As Hermione began to feel a mixed feeling of relief and disappointment at not finding Snape’s classroom, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He took a step backward and seized her arm, clamping a hand over her mouth and dragging her close to the wall. Hermione, bewildered and taken by surprise, swung her elbow backward and felt it make contact with him. Harry bent forward in pain, releasing her and clutching his stomach. Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized that she had hit him and she bent forward towards him, patting his back.

“Are you okay?” she whispered urgently. Harry managed to bring himself to a proper standing position and placed a finger over her lips. Silently, he pointed to the other side of the corridor, where a shadow could be seen moving towards them. Hermione uttered an irrepressible ‘Oh!’ of understanding and quickly pulled out the Invisibility Cloak from her bag. She draped it over them and backed up towards the wall alongside Harry, squinting to see clearly who it might be that was striding towards them in the shadows.

As the figure stepped closer towards them, Hermione realized who it was. Her vision had accustomed nicely to the dark, thus it took her a short time to realize that it was Professor Snape. His cloak was billowing behind him, as usual, which gave off the appearance that he was flying. His face was unreadable, yet his eyes were narrowed in a way that said he was not at all happy.

As he whisked past them, Hermione held her breath, waiting until he was far enough to be unable to hear them speak. Harry, however, waited until he was far enough to not hear their footsteps behind him. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and set off behind Snape, fully expecting Hermione to try and stop him from going after the git. Yet, much to his surprise, she didn’t. She actually seemed intrigued by Snape’s sudden appearance, and Harry was glad for that. If they wasted more time, they could lose him and wouldn’t be able to find out what he was up to.

And so they continued following Snape out of the Dungeons, up the Grand Staircase, and through a secret passageway Harry would have never dreamed existed. It was located just beside the entrance to the first floor. Probably because it was such a blatantly visible place, no one would ever think there was anything hidden there. It was quite clever.

The passageway was simple and hard to get lost in. It was a very steep and excruciatingly long stone staircase, leading up to a destination yet unknown to Harry or Hermione. It was impossible to tell in what direction, as the staircase turned and twisted in different angles, and there were no torches. The only source of light was the window situated high up on the walls, which let the moonlight stream in briefly. Straining his eyesight, Harry was able to make out the shape of the walls beside them. He pulled Hermione’s hand gently and began walking forward slowly, searching for the first step of the staircase. Finally, he found it, and they began walking up the staircase at a reasonably quick pace behind Snape.

The staircase seemed to go on forever. Whenever they thought they saw the outline of a door, it turned out that it was their eyes playing tricks on them. Their legs began to ache from ascending so many stairs, and they began to feel fatigue. They were thankful when Snape finally stopped and stood facing the wall, brandishing his wand. Harry stopped, too, with a mixed feeling of bewilderment and relief. The place seemed utterly random and plain, and he had no idea of how Snape could identify this place. Perhaps he had counted the stairs?

He heard Snape muttering in a low voice, his wand pointed at the wall, before he pocketed it and gazed expectantly at the wall again. Slowly, a gold light began tracing the wall in an outline of a door, and when it finished, a large oak door materialized right there on the wall. Snape extended his arm towards the doorknob and wrenched it open, stepping hurriedly inside and not bothering to close it behind him. Harry lunged for the door, seizing the doorknob before it closed and holding it open until he and Hermione were safely inside the room. Then, he closed the door behind him quietly.

It was then when he realized where they were. In truth, he should have expected it, considering how many stairs there had been, but it came as a total surprise for Harry to realize that they were deep in the fireplace in Professor Trewlaney’s classroom. He knew because of the mixed smell of soot and perfume clouding the air�”he could never forget such a heavily perfumed smell. It flew up his nostrils and difficulted his breathing, and he thought he heard Hermione let out a muffled cough. They walked at a slow pace far behind Snape, tired from their journey up the long staircase and having to restrain their coughs.

Deep inside, they were strongly beginning to regret coming.

They were so far behind Snape, they were barely able to see the hem of his cloak as he strode inside another door that had appeared out of nowhere near the back of the classroom. They walked around the copper kettle blocking the fireplace entrance, and stood uncertainly, wondering what to do.

“Should we…hide?” Hermione whispered softly, her voice showing a faint note of fear and uncertainty. Under the cloak, Harry could barely see her face except for a bit that was illuminated by a faint ray of moonlight, and yet, he could imagine her face showing concern and expressing a hidden question in her eyes. A hope that he could do something to better the situation.

Despite this, Harry could come up with no better suggestion. They were certainly not going to run now that they were finally here, “Yeah,” he said, nodding, “Maybe we could sit behind one of the armchairs, or put to poufs together and crouch behind them,”

Hermione frowned, looking unconvinced, “But don’t you think he’ll notice if we move something? Or what if he hears us?” she asked, clearly worried. Harry suspected that she was beginning to fear that Snape was on Death eater business or something of the sort, and would do something to them. That was ridiculous, of course. He would probably take house points off, give them detention again, and verbally insult them.

But then, hadn’t he threatened Harry the last time they had met after hours? Harry remembered clearly his parting words to him the other night: “Now, get to bed. And should I find you strolling the halls at night again, Potter�”accompanied or not�”you shall regret it deeply.” As the words came back to him, he felt a bit of a shiver cross his spine, and he silently vowed to not let themselves get caught.

“He won’t,” Harry said simply, determination etched on his face. Hermione’s initial instinct to feel worried at this was crushed at the sight of him. The corners of her mouth twitched in a small smile as she walked behind Harry to a large armchair. They strode to the back, which was facing the front of the classroom, and they sat side by side behind it.

“Uhm…Harry?” Hermione murmured quietly after a few moments, “We can’t sit like this,” she said

“Why?”

With a sigh, she gestured to their sides, clearly uncovered by the cloak. Harry nodded, “You’ll have to sit on my lap, then,” he said absentmindedly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a rosy blush creeping on her cheeks, “Smooth, Harry,” she whispered, leaning unto him, “But I think we can manage to cover ourselves by moving closer,”

Harry frowned, wondering why she had said that, and then he realized the implication his suggestion might have had. He laughed, “I did not mean it that way…” he said, “You were the one that thought about that!”

Hermione’s grin widened, “How do you know?” she asked, winking at him and resting her cheek on his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, wondering how she could be so beautiful and strangely seductive without noticing it. She wasn’t wearing anything special�”a sweater, her Hogwarts skirt, and her robes. Yet to Harry, she always looked beautiful, no matter what she was wearing, “So, how long d’you think we’ll be here? What’s he doing in there, anyway?” Harry asked, clearing his throat slightly.

Hermione shrugged, closing her eyes, “I don’t know. But maybe he really is tagging along with Trewlaney. Why else would he come here and raid a secret room in her classroom?”

“Voldemort,”

“Listen, Harry, I know you think he’s on that side, but…I can’t see Dumbledore falling for that kind of thing,” Hermione said with a sigh, wrapping her arms around Harry as well, “He’s not stupid, you know that,”

“Neither is Voldemort, Hermione. I can’t see either of them actually believing Snape, actually,”

“Then you’re saying they’re using him to their convenience? Are you implying that they’ll dispose of him when they see fit?” Hermione pulled away from him and gave him an incredulous look, “’Cause Voldemort would do that, but not Dumbledore, Harry. He’s not like that and you know it,”

Harry sighed, “I don’t know. I just wish everything would be over. That all these questions could be cleared up and I could just stop worrying so much,” his tone had a note of finality, and Hermione let the issue drop. The mood seemed to have gotten tense with only a few words, and she didn’t want to have another fight with him. Unable to come up with something to break the silence, Hermione took another approach. She softly ran her fingers along the side of Harry’s face, causing him to turn his face towards her. Slowly, she bent her face forward towards his lips, giving him time to back away if he were truly upset, but he didn’t. Their lips made contact and she felt his arms curve around her body again, slowly moving across it. She moved her hands up to his shoulders and caressed him softly, enjoying the way his hands felt on her body, even if layers of clothing separated them from her skin. She let out a soft noise of pleasure, barely audible, even to Harry, and their lips parted as Harry began to create a trail of kisses down to the small part of her neck that was visible.

They were both drifting off into an entirely different world as they forgot where they were and who was in the room next to them. Harry began pull Hermione’s robes off, and Hermione didn’t even think about what he was doing. She was utterly entranced by the person that was now kissing her in a way she had never been kissed before, touching her with both passion and love…

Then there was a loud, echoing clatter that broke the silence and the sound of Snape cursing. Hermione gasped and Harry pulled himself away from her quickly as she slipped her robe back on and straightened her skirt, which had ridden up to mid-thigh. Harry stared at his hands, embarrassed and feeling stupid for letting himself get carried away like that.

She didn’t seem to mind, but…I don’t know. What kind of a person tries to make love with someone in a classroom, with a teacher next door?

Wait a minute�”make love?

When did we decide we were going to make love? We were kissing…and I began to pull of her robes. In a classroom. With Snape in the other room.

Huh.

Maybe I should try to control myself more…another time she might not take it so well…or we might do something we’d regret…

Oh, Merlin…

Hermione was sitting a good distance away from Harry, the left side of her body poking out of the Invisibility Cloak. Her eyes were wide as she realized what they had almost done�”and where�”and she was fumbling with her hands frantically, trying to concentrate on the noise coming from the room as an attempt to distract herself.

There were several loud cluttering sounds again, then the sound of a metal violently hitting wood, and a rustling of papers. Then, they both heard Snape walking out of the room. Hermione moved as quickly yet silently as possible towards Harry, but stumbling on her robe. Harry’s arm broke her fall, holding her tightly and pulling her towards him to cover her with the cloak. They huddled together, Hermione’s head leaning unto Harry’s chest and his arms holding her tightly as they waited to see what Snape would do next. Harry craned his neck and peered behind the armchair, and managed to catch a glimpse of a fuming Snape holding an old, battered notebook and exiting through the secret passage he had used to come.

Harry turned back to Hermione. She was gazing absentmindedly at something on the floor, so that Harry could only see the top of her head. Her hands were clutching Harry’s robes as if she were holding onto them for dear life, and could see that she was breathing quickly. Uncertainly, Harry patted Hermione’s shoulder, his other arm still around her, “Err…he’s gone,” he said, wondering what else he could say.

Hermione nodded and pulled away from Harry. He couldn’t see the expression on her face clearly, but he thought she was frowning, “I’m not mad at you,” she said quietly, “You don’t have to worry about that,”

Harry sighed, glad that he didn’t have to start the conversation, “But we shouldn’t have done that,”

“Yes. We shouldn’t have. It was both our faults, Harry,” Hermione said, “I shouldn’t have kissed you to begin with,” she blushed slightly at this, though it was barely visible in the darkness. The moonlight was illuminating her from the back, so that her face was hard to make out.

“And I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away,”

“And just so you know, Harry…” Hermione began in a low voice, “We wouldn’t have gotten much farther. I don’t think we’re ready yet. At least, I’m not,” she looked down at her hands, which were rested on her knees, before continuing, “You understand, don’t you?”

Harry had really never thought that perhaps she wasn’t ready. He had really never considered if he was ready, though he supposed he wasn’t if the mere thought of almost making love with her made him explode in concern and surprise at the consequences of his actions. Besides, what if she became pregnant? “Yes,” he said, “I understand, Hermione. It’s okay,”

Hermione looked up at him to see if he was telling the truth and smiled, “Thank you, Harry. It means a lot,” she said. Harry smiled back at her and they were again immersed by a deafening silence until they remembered where they were and why they were here. Harry helped Hermione up and uncovered themselves from the Invisibility Cloak so they could be more comfortable. Harry walked towards the fireplace and was surprised to see that the secret passageway was no longer there. Confused, he lit it, casting a brilliant light around the room. Now capable of walking without colliding with anything, Hermione strode to the back of the room, where the other door had been. It had also vanished, and yet, if she looked closely, she could see the outlines of a door. She tried Alohomora and several other spells she had learned to open doors and reveal secrets, but the door wouldn’t budge.

Frustrated, she kicked it fiercely. Still, it wouldn’t open. She turned back to Harry, who was looking through papers and things that littered the floor and tables, but apparently hadn’t found anything important.

“Did Snape use an incantation or a password? Because if it was a password, I don’t think we’ll ever get through,”

“I don’t know. We were in the passageway when he opened this, remember?”

Hermione let out a noise of frustration as she nodded, “So we came all this way for nothing? I hardly think there will be anything useful out here,”

Harry looked at her uncertainly and shrugged, “I don’t want this whole thing to be for nothing, either, Hermione, but I don’t think we’ll get in there. Still, we saw something relevant,”

“What would that be?”

“Snape. He wasn’t in the castle, and now he suddenly appeared and sneaked into Trewlaney’s secret room? I don’t think it’s a coincidence,”

“Yes, but it doesn’t answer anything! We were sneaking after him to find answers, Harry. Something that could clear this whole mystery once and for all,” Hermione snapped, feeling her temper rise steadily with every second that passed. She was beginning to feel annoyed at everything�”like the large pouf that was sitting in front of her, or Harry’s continued attempts to make things seem less horrible.

Harry seemed to sense danger, as well, because he moved towards her and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him, “Relax, Hermione…I wanted answers, too…but sometimes things don’t go the way you’d like them to,”

Hermione huffed, “We should be getting back soon,” she said quietly, hating herself for acting like such a child.

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling and kissing her lips lightly, “We should. Let’s go,” he grabbed her hand and led her towards the trapdoor they usually used to enter the classroom. He opened it, and gestured for her to go first. Later, when they were both out of the room, they casted a Colloportus charm on it, causing it to swing shut with a nasty squelching sound. Hermione shrugged, “Ah, well. At least there isn’t proof that it was us,”

They walked through the darkened castle in silence, making light comments from time to time and flashing each other smiles. The way from North Tower to the Gryffindor Common Room wasn’t long, and in a few minutes they were already there. They gave the Fat Lady the password and stepped inside, still not letting go of each other’s hand and gazing into one another’s eyes.

Hermione cleared her throat and smiled, “Err…I think we should go to sleep. We have class tomorrow,” despite her words, she didn’t move or let go of Harry’s hand.

Harry bent forward towards her lips and kissed her softly, letting go of her hand and burying his own hand in her hair, while his other hand laid on her lower back. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back ardently. Then, abruptly, Harry stepped back, giving Hermione an apologetic look. He opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione stopped him, placing her fingers on his lips. She shook her head and smiled, saying, “It’s okay, don’t worry,”

Harry smiled back, relieved, and caught a wisp of her hair between his fingers, “Then, I bid you goodnight. Sleep well, my love,” He bowed and winked at her.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden slightly and nodded sheepishly, “Yes…sleep well, my love,” They both grinned at each other, and, with one last kiss, they headed off into their dormitories. Their problems and worries forgotten, all they could think about was the way they had kissed and their parting words to each other.

Sonno bene, il mio amore.


A/N: Well, like I said, this chapter is dedicated to iarehampster, and to my mother, whose birthday is today. =)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I quite enjoyed writing it and I found myself grinning like an idiot as I did. =D I just love romance like this.

And listen, I really hope more of you review this time. I know I deserved your silence for not updating in a month again, but I'm very sorry. And, this being a shippy chapter, I think it will appeal to a few of you, so I'd really like to see some more reviews this time.

Like I said, I'm sorry.

So, till the next chapter!

Chapter Fifteen: Preparations and Plotting

11:35 a.m., Wednesday morning, Hogwarts Grounds

Hermione slipped off her dragon hide gloves with a look of distaste and casted a charm on them to clean them up. Harry looked down at his own and shrugged, pulling them off and stuffing them in his backpack. She arched an eyebrow at him and grinned, opening the exit to the Herbology Greenhouses. They had just had a nasty class with plants deemed Writhing Seeds, which were a crucial element in the potion used to remedy Headaches. Despite their effects on one’s headaches, however, they were utterly uncooperative when it came to planting them�”writhing and making a nasty sort of screeching sound. Needless to say, the class had been very relieved when the time to leave came.

“Where are you going? The Castle’s this way,” Hermione asked Harry confusedly, turning to see him heading in the direction of the lake.

“I know,” he said calmly, breaking into a sort of sprint for the lake. Hermione watched, amused and slightly bewildered, as Harry finally reached the edge of the lake and sat down, gazing into the horizon. He turned back to Hermione and patted the grass beside him, inviting her to sit. She grinned and made her way towards him. As she sat down, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she nestled her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a long time, until, in a low, choked whisper, he asked, “Hermione…are you sure of this?”

She frowned, and moved her head slightly to look up at him, “Sure of what?” by his tine, she could tell he had thought a lot about whatever he was asking her about, and he seemed troubled by it.

“I might not make it, Hermione…I don’t want you to suffer,”

Hermione gave him an incredulous look, “Harry, I�”“

“Things won’t be easy…I just want you to know that. I don’t want you to regret being with me because of that. I love you Hermione, and I don’t want to see you suffer,” Harry swallowed, feeling his throat unusually dry as he gazed into Hermione’s eyes and saw the pain that had flared up inside them.

Hermione bit her lip and look down, searching for something to say. She couldn’t lie, of course. She had, recently, regretted accepting his marriage proposal because of the trouble it had seemed to cause. She knew well that she felt something much deeper than a mere attraction for him, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie for his benefit.

But she couldn’t tell him the truth, could she? It would only confirm his fears.

“Harry…there are some times in which I wish we had never kissed that night in the Library. Times in which you infuriate me so much or I just feel stressed…and yet, it is times like the ones we shared yesterday, talking and laughing in the Great Hall, that remind me of why I did it,” she saw doubt in his eyes, and gave him a weak smile before continuing, “If you think that just because things get troublesome I will leave you, Harry, then you are utterly wrong. I could never leave you. I love you with all my heart, and…leaving you would only make me feel worse about everything. You bring happiness into my life, Harry. I feel special…different when I’m with you. And I know, despite what everyone says, that I love you truly, deeply; in a way no other person on this earth could conceive,” the words had come from deep inside Hermione, and as she spoke, the words sounded foreign to her. She never once wavered on what she was saying, or stopped to consider what she would say next. Somehow, she felt as if she had been subconsciously thinking all these things, and saying them aloud made her feel much better.

Harry pondered what Hermione had just told him. The truth in her eyes was evident, and yet…his worry was not gone. Oh, he knew she loved him and wouldn’t leave him, but that wasn’t what was troubling him.

It was the thought of losing her that tormented him.

Despite the raging thoughts and worries in his head, Harry opted to end the conversation. He didn’t want her to be worrying about her own death…he knew well, after all, that it was quite traumatic to be asking himself day after day if he would survive the Final Battle. With a smile, he addressed Hermione, “Thanks,” it was all he was able to say, really. Her words were still spinning in his head.

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him softly. With a smile of her own, she turned back to watching the lake. A sense of peacefulness washed through her as she watched the ripples in the water moving slowly towards shore and crashing against the muddy banks. There seemed to be a slight disturbance near the middle of the water, making the waves appear and reach the shore faster. Hermione watched it, entranced, wondering what could be in there, until a large tentacle emerged from the water. It hovered in the air for several seconds, before descending back into the lake with a large splash of water. Little droplets managed to make their way to where Harry and Hermione were sitting, and fell on their faces as they gazed at the place where the tentacle had been.

“Maybe it was waving to us,” Harry chuckled.

“You have a terrific sense of humor, Harry,” Hermione said dryly, a small smirk on her face.

“You think you’re funnier, then?” Harry asked, feigning to be insulted.

Hermione shrugged, “I can think of a few things that are truly funny, thank you very much,” she said, “For example...your drool on the History of Magic notes you gave me the other day,” he laughed and she winked at him, leaning back so she was lying down on the grass, looking up at the sky.

“I recognize defeat. You’ve never done anything like that,” Harry said, laying down beside her.

Hermione smiled, “No, I guess not,” she sighed contentedly and turned so that she was laying down on her side, facing Harry, “Listen, how about later we go to the Library?”

Harry chuckled, “Typical Hermione. You want to spend the few hours before our first training session locked in a room chock full of books?” He shook his head dismissively, “C’mon, let’s take a walk under the Invisibility Cloak, or just a walk…”

Hermione looked at him incredulously, “How could you ever get the idea that I wanted to go to the Library for books? I actually had something else planned, but it’s fine if you want to go under that cloak in broad daylight. Should be interesting,” she said, faking dry sarcasm and giving him a small smile.

“Why else would you want to go there?”

“Well, for one thing, that was the place where we shared our first kiss. I think it deserves a visit once in a while. And for another, we do have homework to get done,” Harry looked at her closely, and he could see the barest outline of a blush creeping up her cheeks as she pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Oh, well in that case, I’d be glad to go,”

“Yeah, now you do, don’t you?” She sat up and approached the lake. In one swift motion, she traced her hand along the water and sent a shower of it in Harry’s direction. He ducked, but got drenched either way. He looked up at the sound of Hermione’s soft laughter, her hand still lingering near the surface of the water.

“You’re no match for me, Potter. Quidditch won’t do you any good here,”

In a heartbeat, Harry had made his decision. He gave Hermione a wicked smile and lunged towards her, pushing them both into the water. He heard Hermione’s cry of surprise and�”was it annoyance or amusement? He couldn’t tell, and he barely had time to think. He planted his feet safely on the bottom�”they were in shallow waters�”and emerged, taking in a breath of cool air. The water was quite cold, but considering the heat that had been bothering him since morning, this was bliss.

Hermione’s head arose from the icy depths moments later, small droplets of water dripping from her extremely wet hair, her face a slight crimson shade, and her shirt completely adhered to her body. Her eyebrows were knitted together and she looked murderous.

“I…Hermione…sorry…I thought…” Harry stammered at the sight of her current expression, moving towards her.

But, seconds later, her face broke into a large smile. With a quick movement, she twined her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled herself towards him, closing the distance between them. She lunged for his lips, still wet from the lake’s waters, and Harry felt the cold he had experienced when he fell into the water disappear instantly. He placed his hands where here waist should be, and, to his pleasant surprise, he found that her robe had slipped off her when she had fallen in the water. Sure enough, he saw it floating a few feet away.

And as Hermione’s fingers began trailing soft circles on the nape of his neck, he began to feel slightly panicked concerning his self-control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earlier that day

4:39 a.m., Wednesday morning, Sibyll Trewlaney’s house �“ Killarney, Ireland

Severus Snape was not in a good mood. If anything, he was positively furious as he strode into one of the grand living rooms in Sibyll’s gigantic mansion. It was the fifth one to the right after taking a left turn on the foot of a staircase leading to the third floor. Its furniture was, as all the other rooms in the house, extremely expensive and fancy-looking; there was a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and it seemed to be engraved with a trail of tiny sapphires and diamonds; there was large window on the left side of the room, offering a beautiful view of the lake, and there was a strong smell of perfumed air. Lavender? Oranges? Or was it vanilla?

Severus hated it.

He had lived this life for too long�”back in his childhood, which held no memorable or happy times, he had always been cooped up in his father’s fancy, splendid mansion. His father was a prominent but highly reclusive and alarmingly violent Death Eater, which led him to treat his wife and only son with extreme formality and strictness. If they so much as put one toe out of line and broke his ‘rules’, they would surely face his wrath, something they tried to avoid at best. However, when Severus was younger, he did not understand this, and his father often treated him to cruel punishments. His mother rose to his defense, and this led to another fight�”which Severus’ father won, either by hexing, yelling, hitting, or stomping away.

Needless to say, Severus didn’t appreciate anything that reminded him of those times.

He looked around in distaste one more, and stood stiffly, waiting for that wretched woman to arrive so he could give her that damn notebook she’d been so keen to get. And, naturally, since he was ‘in charge of her defense’�”babysitting her�”he’d had to go get it for her.

Speaking of which, it seemed to have a charm placed upon it, since he couldn’t open it. He had tried numerous charms, even dark ones, but the notebook wouldn’t budge. Whatever was inside it was as safely protected as Sibyll was with him on guard.

When ten minutes had gone by, Severus begun to pace impatiently around the room, conjuring a cup of tea. The tea, at least, distracted him from the infernal smell that crowded the room. He even opened a window at one point, and was relieved when fresh air made its way inside.

At fifteen minutes past five, Severus gave up. He made to get up, when he heard hurried footsteps coming towards him. He scowled as Sibyll rushed inside, bundled in her usual attire of shawls, beads and odd-colored robes. Her hair was frizzed and a mess, and her eyeglasses were askew. Severus took quick note of her alarming appearance and raised an eyebrow.

“What in Merlin’s name have you been doing? You were supposed to be here over half an hour ago!” he snarled.

“I was pouring over books trying to find out what the hell you did to that Wormtail person!” she snarled back, eyes narrowing, “He won’t wake! I swear, Snape, if you killed him�”“

“He’s not dead, you moronic witch. I administered the Draught of the Living Death�”“

“What? You poisoned him?”

“No,” Snape hissed, his eyes flashing in anger, “It puts him to a deep sleep. He will be awoken only when the proper antidote is given to him. He is not poisoned, or ill in any way,”

“Oh,” Sibyll said, recognizing defeat and feeling embarrassed for her stupidity, “Well, that certainly makes the last hour a waste. I’m sorry I didn’t send word…I was just so…I don’t know. Being alone gets old after some time. I thought about waking him up, since we Obliviated him, and talk to him for a bit,”

Snape surveyed her with disgust, “Your lack of judgment is alarming. Had he attacked you, you would not have been able to defend yourself. He may be clumsy, but he is well aware of a few spells I take you would rather not be used upon yourself,”

“Yes, well…never mind that now. Did you find it?”

“Yes, after countless minutes of endless rummaging and shuffling, I did,” Snape said, thrusting the battered notebook to her. It was then that he noticed that the notebook had a name engraved on its dusty cover in elegant letters. It was hard to make out, but he understood instantly. He had heard that name before. Which Death Eater hadn’t?

Douglas Elivander

Before Sibyll had eyen held the notebook properly, he snatched it back, “Why, specifically, do you need this notebook? How did you come to have it?” His brow was furrowed in suspicion, and he saw a flicker of fear in Sibyll’s eyes before it went back to cold determination.

“I don’t think that concerns you, Snape. Give it to me,” her hand wavered near her robe pocket, and Severus let out a bark of mirthless laughter.

“Is attempting to duel me something you truly wish to do, Sibyll?”

“You can’t kill me. Dumbledore’s orders,”

“But I can render you unconscious for a long, long time. I’m a cold-blooded Death Eater, remember?”

Sibyll’s mouth tightened, and she closed it, glaring at him. Her hands crossed at her chest, she attempted to look brave, but Severus could see the telltale signs of physical discomfort invading her.

She was afraid. He had the upper hand.

With a contented smirk, he drew his wand, twirling it between her fingers and shooting her a cold look, “I’ll ask you again, then. How did you get this notebook? Did you know this man?”

Sibyll’s eyes widened from initial surprise, but she realized just a second later that he was bound to know about what had happened. He had joined long before it happened, after all. She sighed, “He…he was my husband,”

This statement caught Severus off-guard. He frowned incredulously at her, “What? That is impossible. They raided the house�”this house,” he breathed, recognition etched on his sallow face, “The Dark Lord sent spies to look for his family, how could he not find you?”

“Albus helped us,”

“Ah. Of course, that is why Elivander was murdered. For turning on the Dark Lord,”

“He didn’t turn in the Dark Lord. You make it sound as if it was a cowardly act�”the easy way. He realized there was nothing for him with the Death Eaters. All those promises your Master has made to you�”each and every one�”is a lie. He only uses you to achieve his goal, and then he will kill you all. Do you think a person so greedy would be willing to share power with anyone else? Douglas--,” her voice shook as she uttered the name she had long since vowed not to mention,”�”realized this, and decided he would be better off helping Albus. You two have something in common, I believe,” she added silkily, flashing him a mistrustful look.

Severus’ eyes narrowed at her last comment, “And he was unable to keep his cover? The man was clearly not very clever, Trewlaney. He should have practiced Occlumency or something of the sort,”

“If you speak of him that way again, you imbecile, I swear you will regret it,” Sibyll hissed angrily, her hands forming fists, teeth bared, “He did use Occlumency, and he did deceive the Dark Lord more than once. One night, however, a spy for the Dark Lord followed him when he left a global meeting, and, unaware of this, he communicated with Albus using those phoenix feathers. The spy caught sight of what he wrote and informed his Master,”

Snape nodded, “And then a small group of skilled and stealthy Death Eaters were ordered to kill him�”the Dark Lord didn’t want to draw too much attention by going himself or killing him during a meeting�”and his family as well. That would have meant you, but you were safely protected,”

“And then…well…I came back one day to find the house in ruins�”ashes scattered through the bedroom, blast marks on the walls, broken shelves�”and a note safely placed on top of this notebook. I think he knew they were after him. Idiot. He should have told me…we would have helped him…” her voice was thick with the emotion she had felt years ago and was reliving now, and tears threatened to leak from her eyes.

“You couldn’t have. He would have died anyway. The Dark lord has a special way of getting things he wants�”if he wanted your husband dead, he would not have rested until he knew for certain that Douglas Elivander was dead.”

“Albus would have protected us both. We could have made it,”

“It is common to deny what we fear is true. I will not bother continuing this discussion. Now tell me, what was in the notebook and the note he left behind?”

Sibyll shrugged, her lips curled in a smirk, “Unable to open it, are you? Figures. He said only I’d be able to, and I never questioned his word. He was a clever wizard, despite what you think,”

“Trewlaney, I need to know what it said,”

“Why? You probably aided in his murder, for all I know!”

“I knew him. We worked together. He and I were researchers for the Dark Lord. In my early years, that was how I served. I researched ways to make him permanently immortal, and new potions to use against his enemies,”

Sibyll stared at him, mouth open in shock, “And you speak of him as if he were no one to you?”

“I never considered him terribly knowledgeable, and we hardly spoke. The only times we talked were when we compared out results from our research and experiments,”

Sibyll gave him a cold glare before looking away from him. Her eyes lingered on the chandelier above them, before she turned to gaze at the floor. Severus watched her in irritation, his fingers tracing the letters on the cover of the notebook.

“Please�”,” the word took him great effort to utter. He was not accustomed to asking, much less begging, “�”Trewlaney. I know I was not fond of your husband, but don’t you think that if he died to protect whatever was in this notebook, it was something important?”

“All the more reason not to let you know of it,” Sibyll snarled, and Snape felt his patience weaken considerably.

“Very well then. I shall take it with me,”

“You won’t be able to open it,”

“And neither will you,”

Sibyll cursed under her breath. Burying her face in her hands, she sighed, “Oh, alright. I do warn you, however, that the note is very romantic and…emotional at times. Needless to say, it’s not up to your taste,”

Snape glared at her, “Just hurry up and open the notebook. I assume the note is inside?”

Sibyll nodded silently and extended her hand to grab the notebook. Severus shoved it in her hand and crossed his arms, waiting. With a melodramatic sigh, Sibyll placed the palm of her hand on the cover of the notebook, directly above her late husband’s name, and muttered the words he had told her, so long ago, that she would need to say.

“Imperceptus Nullus Plus,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:16 p.m., Wednesday afternoon, Hogwarts Library

The Library was as crowded as ever, with students darting from their tables to bookcases, and then to other people’s tables. Madam Pince was skulking near the left side, watching two students that were apparently enjoying a game of Exploding Snap under a table. The light was overall dim, but near each table there was another torch to facilitate reading and writing.

“I think we were sitting over there,” Harry said after examining the tables and scratching his head in thought.

“Are you insane? Anyone can see that table. No, it must have been over there,” Hermione said in a whisper. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, with a few loose strands falling over her eyes, and she was now completely dry. Her brown eyes were narrowed in concentration as she looked from table to table, wondering how she could have forgotten the table where she and Harry shared their first kiss.

“I reckon it might be the one beside it,” Harry retorted, pointing.

“No, it’s that one!” They both exclaimed a second later, pointing to a table that was barely visible behind the towering bookcases around it. They could barely see the corner, but quickly they realized that was the one. They shared a laugh before heading towards it, Harry slamming his book bag on the table when they reached it and Hermione placing hers neatly on the floor beside her chair. They both pulled out their Transfiguration books and a roll of parchment, and quietly began doing their homework.

Well, Hermione was doing her homework.

Harry was scribbling and doodling mindlessly on his parchment, glancing up between each stroke of his quill and grinning at the sight of her. Her eyes were small on her face was she narrowed them in thought, and she was biting her lower lip, biting the end of the quill as she worked. The few loose strands of her hair that had leaked out of her knot gracefully fell in soft curls along the sides of her face, and Harry wished he were holding a strand of her soft hair between his fingers.

The thought reminded him of the lake that morning, and his grin widened considerably. They had kissed that way for a long, long time, until their lips parted and only their foreheads touched as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their hands sill straying over each other’s bodies, they shared another kiss before Hermione suggested they go inside and eat. Harry had agreed, and as they made their way out of the water, he couldn’t keep his gaze from admiring her figure�”which was much more noticeable, with her clothes desperately clinging to her body�”before she dried her clothes off and they returned to their normal state.

Still, he reflected as he looked at her now, she looks beautiful all the same.

He looked down seconds before she looked up at him, a small smile on her lips, “Feels odd, being back here,” she said, her voice low and delicate.

“Yeah…before it was as if we had to be watching our backs constantly. We had to be here in complete silence to avoid getting caught,”

“It’s nicer this way,”

“Yeah. It really is,”

They locked eyes for a fleeting moment, and Hermione looked away, a small smile on her face and a blush creeping up to her cheeks, “So, what have you gotten done?” she asked.

Harry looked uneasily down to his parchment, grinning, “Err…loads,”

“Hmm, you don’t say?”

“Yeah…I’ll just…uh…finish it up later,” Harry said quickly, folding the parchment in half and pocketing it. He picked up his book and stuffed it in his bag, feeling Hermione’s amused stare in him.

“Good, then you won’t need my help?”

Harry got up from his chair and moved it so that it was beside her. She raised an eyebrow at him and closed her books as well, turning to face him, “What d’you think we’ll…” her voice trailed away, however, as Harry captured her mouth with his lips softly. She gently wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back slowly. Harry’s hands wandered to her hair and untied it, letting it cascade down to her shoulders elegantly.

This kiss, despite�”or maybe because�”its slow nature, delivered a much stronger message than their fiery, passionate ones. It felt so much more tender…so much more full of love. They both savored the way they felt their emotions pouring from each other, and they entered an indescribable bliss.

A while after, Hermione broke the kiss. She opened her eyes slowly with a dreamy expression and licked her lips. She stared at Harry for a while, her eyes gleaming in the soft light, and then she smiled. Harry knew that smile. It was the typical smile Hermione Granger always got when she had solved a problem.

“Harry, would you mind if I went to the Owlery to send a letter?” she asked, and Harry was taken aback by her question. The Owlery?

“Err…okay,” he said uncertainly, “but what…?”

But Hermione was already off, her book bag slung over her shoulder, she walked swiftly towards the doors of the Library, leaving Harry completely confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mum:

When I read your letter I swear I couldn’t believe you had written it. What in the world has led you to believe so strongly that my relationship with Harry is based on lust? He isn’t like that, and neither am I. I would have thought you knew that, and it pains me deeply to see the way my mother thinks of me.

I’m going to tell you the truth about our relationship, and please keep an open mind. I am going to be completely honest with you now, and, well…here goes. At first, when this all happened, I acted upon impulse. I was just so happy to know that Harry was in love with me as well, and I reached for the stars, as you might say.

However, as the days went by, I began to realize how hard things would get. Between having you and dad angry at me, Ron’s feelings to worry about, and other things I won’t bother describing, I felt stressed and worn out. I think I cried more in those days than I have in my life.

And yet, when I was with Harry, everything seemed to fix itself. I felt as if nothing was wrong, mum, and I felt loved. In those times, I was certain that I could do anything for Harry.

Then, the other day, I came to regret accepting his marriage proposal.

I know, “That’s not the sign of true love,” you might scoff, but I’m just telling you what poured out of me right then. I didn’t want to accept it, but we moved too fast. There was no ‘courting’, no flirting, or anything remotely typical of romance like that. By getting engaged, we made our relationship more complicated than it already was, because we didn’t yet know how to act around each other, and we still behaved without deeply considering the other.

But just yesterday I began to feel differently around him. I honestly don’t know what happened, but instead of feeling like the weight of the world was on out shoulders, we both felt completely at ease as we ate in the Great hall. And then, mum, we began to tease each other and laugh and flirt�”something we hadn’t done at all. I felt something I hadn’t felt at all with Ron�”I felt comfort, and the sensation that I was floating on air.

With Ron, I never felt anything close to that. To be exact, the only thing I felt around Ron was indifference, annoyance, amusement, and anger. I don’t think THAT is something you can base a relationship on.

And today, when Harry and I kissed, I knew we loved each other. It was this…indescribable feeling...so blissful, so wonderful, and I could feel the love radiating off him. I can safely say I NEVER felt like that when Ron kissed me.

And you know what? I’m willing to die for Harry, mum, and I have just found out something that leads me to believe I am crucial for his success in the Final Battle. I will help him, no matter what you believe.

I love you, too, mum, but right now I am deeply disappointed in your attitude. Harry would be just as good a husband as Ron, and I would have thought you were capable of seeing that. Tell dad I love him, too.

Please reply, mum…I don’t want to think that my words here have not affected you at all.

I love you,
Hermione

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:06 p.m., Wednesday night, Prof. Dumbledore’s office

Harry and Hermione gave the gargoyle the password to enter Dumbledore’s office for the third time that same week, feeling a strange sensation of mingled excitement and apprehension. They stood on the staircase, their hands intertwined, as it slowly revolved upwards towards the large door.

As they stepped into the landing, they shared nervous smiles before Harry stretched his hand and knocked on the door. Footsteps were heard coming closer to them, and Professor Dumbledore opened the door, the usual twinkle in his eyes and a benevolent smile on his face.

“Tut, tut, seven minutes late...come, come, Kingsley is already there…you will have to Floo, I’m afraid,” he said, ushering them inside.

Harry nodded, “Where are we going, Professor?”

Dumbledore didn’t answer him, striding towards his desk and opening a drawer. He pulled out a small, golden pouch and hurried over to them, depositing a small amount in each of their hands. He walked them over to the unusually large fireplace, observed that they were both safely inside and had thrown the powder into the ground, before smiling again and saying, loudly and clearly:

“Godric’s Hollow!”

Harry felt a chill race down his spine.

Chapter Sixteen: Give Unto Me Your Troubles…

8:08 p.m., Wednesday night, Godric’s Hollow �“ Lily and James Potter’s old cottage

The fire roared with great intensity, and Harry and Hermione were enveloped in a whirl of green flames as they disappeared from Dumbledore’s fireplace. The smell of soot was unbearable, and the ashes tickled them as they sped around numerous fireplaces, before colliding heavily with a wooden floor. Harry fell headfirst, the impact leaving him short of breath for a moment, and Hermione fell on top of him heavily, rolling off him as she had a bit of a coughing fit. Harry grunted and rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pain of the impact, before remembering where they were and struggling to take a look around.

As he managed to roll over, he was shocked to find a large bit of the ceiling missing over the stairs, which looked worn and rickety. He felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder as she helped him to sit up, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

His heart was thumping in his chest, and it had nothing to do with the fall.

His eyes traveled yet again over the staircase. It had been, no doubt, quite splendid once. It was made of wood as well, and despite the large termite holes in it and the blast marks, he could vividly imagine it softly illuminated by a dim light, its dark wood elegantly polished. His gaze went, as if in a dream, to the second floor the stairs led to, and to the battered doors and walls. There were but three doors�”one open and slightly hanging off one of its hinges, with a large blast mark on its center; another, which seemed to have been painted a different color, lay blatantly open; and the last one seemed completely new. It was a glistening pale white, with a silver doorknob, that looked utterly unharmed and contrasted greatly with the other two, battered doors. The sight of it brought a slight frown to Harry’s face, before he turned and surveyed the area before him, Hermione on his left, a worried look on her face.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” she whispered urgently, not daring to take a step towards him. He gave her a look that clearly stated he didn’t want to be spoken to, and returned to his contemplation of the house.

They appeared to be standing where the living room used to be. There was a large couch�”tattered and dusty, not to mention covered in ashes�”before him, a seat to his left�”which was also in the same conditions as the couch�”and a small coffee table to his right, thrown to the side.

Suddenly, he began to hear voices. They evolved from mere whispers to full-blown yells and screams, and he was both shocked and incredibly taken aback as the conversation progressed.

What..?

“No…please…don’t kill him! Please…” the words sent shivers down his spine. He had heard that voice before…back in his third year, when he’d faced the Dementors.

It was his mother.

He had no doubt that it was her voice, yet the reason for hearing it right then escaped him. His eyes darted to Hermione to see her reaction at this, but she remained looking at him in the same worried way, and he suddenly wondered whether he was hallucinating.

“Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now...” This voice, he knew as well, and as soon as it reached his ears, his scar seared with pain. He fell to his knees, clutching his forehead, willing the pain away, wishing he would stop hearing those voices, but their reality only seemed to intensify. He raised his head and saw, through his fingers, a flash of red light preceding a loud bang.

“Not Harry, please no, take me�”kill me instead!” Lily’s shrill voice broke through the pain that seemed to stem from his scar to the rest of his body, and he felt as if she were right beside him. He felt hands cup his shoulders, tap his cheek, and slowly, a voice began to break through the fog in his mind. Distantly, he could hear Voldemort’s mirthless laughter, and his mother’s terrified scream. Slowly, he began to tear himself away from what he was hearing, and he opened his eyes.

Hermione was kneeling in front of him, hands cupping his cheeks, tears threatening to leak out of her eyes. Her hair was covered in soot, pulled in a low knot at the back of her head, and Harry vaguely noted the wisps of hair that had fallen out it and were now hanging loosely on the side of her face. Her mouth was moving, and, just like the voices of Voldemort and his mother, her voice began to rise steadily until he could hear her normally.

“Harry! Oh, please, what’s happening? I knew something wasn’t right, I just knew it,” she bit her lip and fumbled for her wand, when she felt his hand touch hers, ever so gently, as a sign that there was no need to use her wand.

Her eyes shot upwards to meet his, anxiety evident in her eyes, “Harry, what happened? You were staring around, a very strange look in your eyes, and suddenly you were on the floor, clutching your scar! Did you see something?”

Harry looked back at Hermione, who looked more worried than he was, her breathing quick, and said, “I think…I think I saw this house�”my parents’ house�”on the night Voldemort came,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened, “Harry�”how…?” her voice trailed away softly as she gave him a questioning and vaguely skeptical look.

“I heard my…my mum. And Voldemort,”

Hermione remained silent, frowning. Her gaze traveled across the room and back to Harry, the same worried and questioning look in her eyes. He sighed, “C’mon…let’s go find Kingsley,” he said quietly, getting up and holding out a hand to help her up. She took it and came to her feet, biting her lip.

“Harry…” she whispered, “Why did you see that?” the tone she used made Harry feel a strong feeling of worry as well. It was as if she had come to some conclusion about what he saw, but wasn’t telling him.

“I don’t know,” he said, releasing her hand and heading towards a door that he assumed led to the kitchen. Hermione sighed behind him, and began to walk, as well. Just as he reached for the doorknob, she placed her hand on his shoulder, “Wait,” she said.

But he had already grasped the doorknob. He saw the world spinning before him in a blur of color and light. When everything was clear once more, he was standing by the fireplace, gazing at a young man�”probably twenty or so�”opening the door he had been holding just a few seconds ago. The man had messy jet-black hair, and was a few inches taller than Harry. With wide-eyed comprehension, Harry realized he was watching his father.

His stomach seemed to turn over as he processed this thought.

Harry walked slowly towards him. His father’s face was lit in a joyful smile, and it only seemed to widen as a red-haired woman�”Lily�”walked slowly towards him with a playful smirk on her face. They exchanged words in low voices, before Lily laughed out loud and wrapped her arms around him. James laughed, too, then pulled back his face to meet hers. Lily smiled as he moved towards her lips and kissed her softly, before releasing her and asking, in an excited voice, “Where’s Harry?”

“In his room�”he’s sleeping. Don’t you go waking him up!” she warned, “It took me ages to get him to sleep,” Harry took a few steps closer towards them, and he noted that she had the smallest of dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was slightly messy.

“Fair enough, I’ll be quiet,” said James, raising his hands to his shoulders in mock surrender. His eyes were alive with playfulness, and in a swift motion, he reached for Lily’s ribs and tickled them. She jumped and pinned his arms at her sides with her own before leaning closer and kissing him lightly. James smiled as she pulled away and exited through the door she’d come in.

“I’ll whip up some food while you go and check on Harry, alright?”

“Okay,” As James turned and went up the stairs, Harry debated with himself whether to follow him or not. Yet, as he took a step towards him, the world began to spin before him again, and before he knew it, he was back at present time.

He blinked, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open before turning to Hermione. Her finger was resting near her lower lip as her hand cupped her chin. She seemed to be in thought. At his movement, he looked up again, a look of vague comprehension on her face, “I don’t think we’re here for training,” she said.

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re seeing memories of you mum and dad, right? I think Dumbledore wants us to see something here,”

“That’s ridiculous. How could he send us all the way to Godric’s Hollow with no protection? What if Death Eaters were to show up here, or if we decided we didn’t want to return to Hogwarts at all?”

Hermione shook her head, “Oh, I don’t doubt there’s an Order member on guard somewhere. I’m just saying, that maybe…Dumbledore knew you would see some memories of your parents, and he wanted you to see something in specific,”

“But what could I possibly see here that�”“

“I don’t know, Harry. I’m just telling you what I think Dumbledore sent us here for. If you believe we’re here for training, then where’s Kingsley? Didn’t Dumbledore say he was already here? If we were here to train, he would have waited for us in front of the fireplace,”

“Maybe he’s here, just concealed,”

“My point being: he doesn’t want to be seen because we aren’t here to train,” Hermione lowered her arms and crossed them at her chest, a frown creeping to her face. She didn’t like the thought that Dumbledore had lied to them, either, but it was odd that Kingsley wasn’t here yet if they were, indeed here for training.

Somehow, she felt as if something else wasn’t right. With a glance up at Harry, she realized he was feeling the same way, too.

Something was wrong.

---

Earlier that day

4:50 a.m., Wednesday morning, Sibyll Trewlaney’s house �“ Killarney, Ireland

The notebook glowed in her lap with a faint golden color, and was elevated a few inches into the air, before flopping open, the worn pages stuck to one another, ripped, or stained. Sibyll rifled through the pages, before taking a very small, button sized rectangle and tapping it with her wand. It enlarged to the size of a normal envelope, and she pulled a long piece of parchment from it. With a resigned sigh, she held it out to Severus, who took it with a look of distaste that masked his curiosity.

He unfolded the parchment and skimmed it, coming to pause in sentences that caught his attention. He raised his eyebrow at times, his mouth curled in a sneer. This man had been ridiculously romantic in his farewell letter�”couldn’t he have just left the important bits of information, instead of filling it with silly anecdotes and sappy comments?

Still, the letter proved useful. His eyes locked in a particular sentence, ‘…this notebook, Sibyll, must either be burned or shredded to pieces, for if it were to fall in Voldemort’s hands, he would be filled with the knowledge necessary to become immortal…’ It had to be a lie. Elivander had truly discovered a way to become flawlessly immortal? How had he been sure? Who did he test his potion on? Animals were an option, yes, but their internal structure was different and less complex that with humans. The only way for him to have been sure would have been to slip it to someone during a meal or…

No, impossible. They brought the Dark Lord his corpse. It would be impossible that he had been alive.

Unless, he had tried it on himself, and had believed it had worked as he wrote this letter, never realizing that the potion didn’t work.

But then why had he bothered with the letter, if he was certain he would live?

No, he must have tried it on someone else. Maybe there was something about that in the letter…

‘…although this may seem confusing now, it will all come to the light at the right time, Sibyll. Someday you will understand every word of this letter. But one thing I will tell you is sure: never fear death. You, my dearest Sibyll, will never have to fear death at the hands of anyone---that is my gift of farewell to you…’

Merlin’s beard.

He’d tested the potion on his own wife? What if he had poisoned her?

That’s ridiculous. A person that appeared to be so helplessly in love wouldn’t test such a potentially volatile potion on the person they loved. Logically, they would test it on someone else to verify its effectiveness, and then they would give it to them.

‘…there must be a way out of this War. I know that, someday, you will see a glimpse of the future to verify that statement, and the Order will find a way to defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore himself is our safest bet now, but I’m sure there will be someone else. Someone unexpected will come, and they will help. My only concern is whether they will accept their fate and have the skill necessary…’ Severus snorted. The man had obviously not counted on a Harry Potter being ‘the chosen one’.

Severus folded the parchment and tossed it over to Sibyll, “Not entirely useful, as it leaves several unanswered questions. I do hope you can clarify them?” he added hopefully.

“I have no idea if his concoction worked. In fact, I knew nothing of his alleged success until I read this letter,” Sibyll said instantly, her tone weary.

Severus nodded, “Have you ever entertained the notion that he might have administered the potion to you?”

Sibyll snorted derisively, “Please. I hardly feel immortal. If anything, I feel an inch closer to death every day, especially recently,”

“Pity we can’t make sure…” Severus muttered under his breath, feeling his wand in his hand. The room was then filled with an awkward silence as they both thought about the immortality potion. It was a few minutes before Severus realized he might have the true ‘recipe’ for immortality only a few feet away from him. He looked back at Sibyll, then at the notebook, calculating.

“Do you think�”?”

He stopped in mid sentence. His black eyes suddenly darted to the floor, where the noise had come from. Footsteps?

Sibyll looked up at him, frowning. She too, had heard it. Severus shot her a look a sign for her to keep silent, and she nodded in agreement. They both heard it again. Yes, it was the creak of a floorboard. Someone was apparently walking as slowly as possible up the stairs in an attempt to keep quiet, but the floorboards, however elegant they might look, were very old. If you lingered on one too long, it would creak, just like it had now.

Severus moved towards Sibyll, “Wormtail’s room is in the second floor. They obviously are not aware of this, but we must get him to safety,” he paused, pointing his wand at her, “Those are Death Eaters. Rodolphus, Macnair, Dolohov and Rabastan. They are after both of you,” he said hurriedly in a low voice, before casting a Disillusionment charm on her and then on himself.

“There is a shortcut. We don’t have to take the stairs. If we do they will hear us,” Sibyll suggested quietly. Severus raised his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes, “Come on,” she snapped, beckoning him outside to the passageway. She walked to the far end opposite the one leading to the staircase and touched the wall. She whispered a few words, ushered Severus to come towards it. He walked stiffly, a look of disbelief on his face, before Sibyll heaved a sigh of frustration and walked through the wall herself.

Severus gaped at the spot where she had been in momentary shock, before overcoming it and walking through the wall himself.

Sibyll was halfway down a worn stone staircase very unlike anything he had seen in the house so far. If anything, it looked as if it belonged to a dungeon rather than a fancy house such as hers. The steps were cracked and filthy, and the walls bore signs of humidity. There was a thin, silvery spider web high up on the right wall, and the illumination seemed to be magical rather than natural, as there were no windows.

Sibyll glanced back at him, “Hurry up,” she urged. Then, noticing his look of bewilderment, she said, “We can enter any room in the house using this passageway. This is very much like the Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts. For it to work, you must whisper the location of the place you wish to visit to the wall outside, and in a matter of seconds, the passageway will transform itself to a path to the destination you seek,”

Severus nodded silently, brushing past her. At her indignant huff, he rolled his eyes, “Would you rather come face to face with my dearest Death Eaters in crime? I take it you do not, therefore it is best if I go first,”

“But they might discover you. And could you walk faster?”

“Dumbledore had made the fact that your life is a priority now. I assume that means that my identity will have to take a risk. And I am walking as far as I can,”

“Never mind, we’re here,” Sibyll said, pointing to a dead end. The wall was a pale yellow color, meaning there was a room on the other side. Seconds later, they were in the room where Wormtail was being kept, but they were met only by the ropes they had used to bind him, just in case, and a spot of blood on the floor.

No Wormtail. The Death Eaters had taken him.

“Impossible. There is no way they knew he was here, of all places,” Sibyll muttered darkly, staring at the floor.

“I think we, or rather, I, have more problems than I thought,” Severus said darkly, staring at his left forearm, which he had seized upon instinct at the sudden twinge of pain he had felt just then. He was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his wand was in his pocket, and that he had used it.

“What do you mean?” Sibyll asked, turning to him, her eyes following his own gaze and falling on his arm. She frowned for a second, wondering what that meant, then she remembered Wormtail’s words on the boat.

“�”he…he can trace his Death Eaters when they use magic…that way he can always be sure of their location and their motives…”

Severus had casted Disillusionment charms on both of them mere minutes ago. He had used magic.

The Dark Lord knew where he was, and, more particularly, with whom.

---

8:20 p.m., Wednesday night, Godric’s Hollow

Hermione bit her lip, trying to think clearly, but the anxiety that had soared up inside her was more than a distraction to her thoughts.

She looked up again at Harry’s frowning face, and noted that he also seemed to be mulling things over in his head. He was gazing absentmindedly at the staircase, arms crossed at his chest. At Hermione’s movement, he broke from his reverie, blinking, and looked at her.

“I don’t think�”“

“I know,” Hermione said, “Something doesn’t feel right. We should go, Harry,” she said urgently, her eyes reflecting worry and, most of all, fear.

Harry shook his head, “No, not yet. I want to go into one of the rooms first,”

“Harry, please…I don’t think we should stay here much longer. Something is wrong,” Hermione insisted, sighing.

“You were the one that suggested the Order members might be watching us from a distance. Please, Hermione, can’t you understand? I’ve never been here…this is the place where my parents were murdered, where I actually lived for a year as a baby, and I don’t remember anything. Do you know what it’s like to be here finally?” Harry said pleadingly, taking Hermione’s hands in his. Hermione heaved a tense shiver at this, making her anxiety more evident to Harry, who seized to acknowledge how worried she was.

Hermione sighed, closed her eyes for a second, and looked up at Harry again, “I understand. Which room do you want to enter?” she asked quietly.

Harry’s eyes lingered on hers for a fleeting second, and Hermione felt her fear momentarily wash away as she looked back at him. And yet, she felt grief for him. She could see the pain in his eyes, and the need he had to search his parents’ home for anything that might remind him of them, or simply anything that was once theirs.

Hermione stretched her hand out and cupped his cheek with a tender touch, eyes shining with small, gleaming tears on the brink of sliding down her own cheeks. Harry returned her touch by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, bending his neck slightly and letting his head rest on her shoulder, her soft smell enthralling him instantly. Hermione rested her head on his chest, eyes closed. When they pulled back minutes later, they exchanged small, seemingly reassuring smiles, though their eyes gave away their true feelings. Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her up the staircase, heading straight for the white door he had seen earlier.

Hermione didn’t comment. Although his determination on which room he wanted to enter was a bit odd, she didn’t want to voice this. Somehow, speaking things aloud sometimes made them feel more real, and she didn’t want to feel more worried or confused than she already was. She looked uneasily over her shoulder as Harry fumbled with the lock, but saw nothing worth worrying over. She licked her lips and breathed deeply, watching as Harry pulled out his wand and casted an Alohomora charm on the door. The door burst open with a resounding noise, startling them both. Harry glanced at Hermione and she gave him a smile of mingled nervousness and encouragement before walking towards him and gesturing that he go in. He did, and she followed him.

Her heart seemed to plummet as she gazed at what was inside.

A small, worn wooden crib, with soot-colored sheets and a large hole on the ceiling straight above it lay in the center of the room. The walls were partly obscured by a large blast mark that seemed to originate from the right hand corner of the room. The parts farther away from the mark were covered in year-old dust, giving them a grayish appearance. Cracks ran along the walls around the room, the humidity evident from the gleaming spots along the border of the ceiling.

This had been Harry’s room. She bit her lip in realization, eyes darting towards him to see his reaction.

Harry moved closer to the crib, an unreadable look on his face, and grasped its edge. His chest was constricted from the pain he felt at knowing that his mother had died somewhere in this room, presumably near the crib. He gritted his teeth and muttered, more to himself than to Hermione, “They didn’t have to die,” his voice was broken, mingled anger and despair resting heavily on every word.

Hermione caught the sound of his voice, however, “Oh, Harry…” she whispered softly, eyes almost brimming with tears.

Harry sighed, “They didn’t have to die. They shouldn’t have. They wouldn’t have, if Wormtail hadn’t been such a bloody coward and betrayed them,” His grasp on the crib tightened, “He was supposed to be their friend. He was supposed to help them,”

Hermione remained silent, not knowing how to respond, if Harry did indeed expect her to reply. She gazed back at him silently, waiting for him to either elaborate or ignore her, feeling the cold tears falling from her eyes and sliding slowly down her cheek.

Harry shut his eyes closed and sighed again, releasing his grip on the crib. He felt hate soar up inside him at the thought of Wormtail�”hate like he had never felt since he had found out the truth in the Shrieking Shack in his third year. He hated the fact that Wormtail was in debt to him. If he was in danger of dying, he preferred to die than to have him save his life, of all people.

“I just…it’s not fair. Why are so many decent, noble witches and wizards dead, and there’s so many Death Eaters on the loose? They don’t deserve that freedom. And my parents don’t deserve to be dead. They were good people, despite what Snape says and what his memory from fifth year implied,” Harry kept his eyes shut as he spoke, feeling the anger pass, replaced with a deep, empty feeling.

A feeling of loss. Of defeat. He wanted to close his eyes and suddenly wake up from this horrible reality he was living.

Hermione instinctively made to move towards him, but held back when she saw his frame tense slightly. His shoulders seemed rigid for a few long minutes, until finally, they relaxed. As he turned towards her, she could see the look of grim understanding written on his face.

“I know why we’re here,” he said simply, and waited for the impact of his words to settle. The agony he had felt over his own emotions mere minutes ago seemed to lessen as he saw the memory and understood. He felt a surge of confidence inside him, though it was tainted by his initial feeling of hopelessness. He was unable to suppress a small shiver from trailing down his spine as he looked into Hermione’s large brown eyes and saw the concern that was so obviously reflecting itself upon them.

“What did you see?” Hermione asked, her voice hollow.

“I’ll explain later. First, I have to find it,” he said, tearing his eyes away from hers. With these words, he brushed past her out of the room, leaving her both stunned and confused.

“It?” she called after him, and started walking briskly, following him out of the room. When she walked out onto the hall, she saw no sign of him. As she made to walk towards the staircase, however, she caught sight of an open door, and, without thinking twice, walked into the room it led to.

Harry was going through a drawer, moving things inside it roughly, scratching the insides of the worn wood. With a grunt of annoyance, he turned to the next one, but paused. As if in a trance, he narrowed his eyes in thought before rolling his eyes and saying, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “They wouldn’t put it in such an obvious place…it has to be somewhere else,”

Hermione bent her head to the side slightly and frowned, “Harry, should I even ask you to tell me what you are looking for?”

Harry spared her a glance before looking at the surroundings, scrutinizing every detail, “I will, Hermione, I promise. But we don’t have much time. We ought to be getting back to Hogwarts soon…I don’t think any Order members are here, and I need to find that pendant,”

“Yeah, if they were here, they would have talked to us by now…” Hermione said in a low voice, before her frown deepened as she looked up at Harry, “Pendant?” she asked blankly.

Harry merely nodded before brushing past her again, out of the room. Hermione charged after him into his room once more, where he bent beside his crib, pushed it gently to one side, and ran his hands over the floorboards, searching for a small gap between them or an opening. The dust accumulated quickly on the palm of his hand, and he felt it make contact with a nail that seemed to be slightly out of place, giving him an unpleasant stinging sensation. He shook the dust off and went back to the place where the nail was, pulling out his wand and levitating it off the wood. He threw it behind him carelessly, pocketed his wand, and stood up. With a deep breath, he began kicking the floor with all his might on the spot the nail had been.

Hermione watched, confused and scared, from the doorway. She considered casting a Calming Charm on him, even stunning him, but she didn’t seem to be able to move. Something told her to stay put and allow him to continue. The fear, mingled with her presentiment, gripped her to the spot. She was contained to watching helplessly as Harry kept banging on the wood fiercely until his foot pushed through the wood.

Harry pulled his foot out, shook the dry soil and dust from it, and knelt back on the floor. He placed his hand inside and began digging in the dirt, searching. After what seemed like an age, he stopped, staring blankly into the hole in the dirt.

Hermione chose this moment to walk slowly towards him, her right arm hesitantly stretched out towards him. She knelt beside him, placing her arm around him as a comforting gesture and resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax against her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head gently on top of hers. Hermione heaved a large, irrepressible sigh of comfort as she wrapped her other arm around him, and she thought he felt him smile.

The thought made her mouth curl into a smile.

Harry closed his eyes, smiling, despite his frustration. He had been sure he had done everything like he was supposed to, and yet, there had been nothing under the soil. He had felt an outburst of emotions again�”fury, anxiousness, anguish�”and yet, despite the raging battle inside him, he had felt it all cease at Hermione’s gentle touch. The mere reminder of her presence made him feel calm, even if, deep down, he knew he had failed.

He felt Hermione begin to pull away, but he held her close for just a second before letting go. As he opened his eyes, he smiled at her, her eyes lingering in his for a few moments before smiled back, “Come on…” she said, “I think we ought to get back,”

Harry nodded, glancing at the hole as he made to get up, but froze. There was something different now. He turned his head sharply and gazed, wide-eyed, at the soil inside the hole. It moved magically away from his line of vision, slowly revealing a hidden treasure that he was sure had not been there before.

Hermione frowned when she saw him looking at the hole with such amazement. Confused, she made to look inside as well, moving herself delicately towards it.

She stared, wide eyed and agape, at the pale while lily that had appeared, its petals slowly opening in a majestic manner, drops of moisture clinging to them. The oval, ridged leaves that had served as protection for them opened at the same time as the petals did, their startling green color enhanced by the gleam they had to them.

And at the very center of the flower, ever so slowly, a small, green stone attached to a golden chain began to materialize itself before the pair’s astonished eyes. In a matter of seconds, they were staring at a fully bloomed flower with what looked like an emerald in the center.

Harry hesitated for a second, before extending his arm out tentatively and bringing the flower and the stone into his hand. He gazed down at it, a misty, melancholic look in his eye.

This had been his mother’s. A very rare stone it was, one of the few true protective amulets that still remained on the Earth. According to the legend, this stone held unknown power that would be defined only by the person who used it.

His father had given it to her, in case, for any reason, she were to find herself in a situation where he would not be able to protect her. She had never felt the need for it, until the night of Voldemort’s attack…a memory he had seen when he first entered his room several minutes ago.

-- FLASHBACK --

“Not Harry, please no, take me�”kill me instead!”

Voldemort laughed mirthlessly, gazing down on her, his scarlet eyes gleaming with malicious enjoyment at her begging.

Lily, despite her fear, was not going to give up her son. She stood resolutely, her frame shaking, before Harry’s crib, her fingers white as she held her wand tightly in her hand. Cold tears leaked out of her bright green eyes as she firmly told herself, for the millionth time, that Harry would not die.

“Stand aside. You need not die, Mudblood, if you do not attempt to stop me. I am not here to kill you, it is the boy I am after,” Voldemort hissed, taking a menacing step towards Lily.

“Please…kill me instead! He is too young,” Lily pleaded shakily, “He is my son…please, have mercy!”

Voldemort laughed again, “The Dark Lord shows mercy to no one, Mudblood,” he raised his wand and pointed it straight at Lily, watching as her eyes widened again in fear.

Then, somewhere inside her fear, she remembered the pendant. She knew well her life would not be saved, but the pendant would surely help Harry, wouldn’t it? With a swift motion, she reached for it in her pocket, barely managing to clasp her fingers around it and pull her hand out before the curse hit her, square on her chest.

She felt all the life she possessed violently being ripped away, her vision obscuring in seconds and her breathing stopping abruptly.

Lily Potter’s body crumpled in a heap in front of her son’s crib, the pendant falling out of her limp hand at her fall and rolling under the crib.

Voldemort smirked, “You were dead from the moment you stood in my path, Mudblood, and your son will be no different,” he said silkily, still watching the expression on the woman’s eyes. There was fear, blatantly written, masking yet another emotion. Intriguing…and slightly disconcerting.

Still, the determination was there. Not even in death would she give up.

Casting a look of disdain on her, Voldemort directed his attention to the crib.

He never did see the pendant.

-- END FLASHBACK --

As Harry saw it yet again, he felt a wave of anger wash over him as he noted the way Voldemort spoke and acted towards his mother. Even his thoughts showed scorn.

Harry frowned, wondering. Why was he able to know what they thought? He had been watching everything from a corner of the room, after all. He hadn’t been in their positions at any moment.

Then why had he been able to know both his mother and Voldemort’s thoughts?

Hermione still stared in growing anxiousness and confusion at the stone, “What is it, Harry? How did it appear there?” she squeaked.

“I don’t know how it got there, exactly. It was my mum’s,” he said hoarsely, and he explained what he had seen.

Hermione’s eyes were wide as orbs as she listened, but deep inside, she felt a familiar sensation of understanding. Dumbledore had sent Harry to retrieve the pendant, which would mean that only Harry would be able to find it. The pendant could possibly be used during the Final Battle against Voldemort, which would make it only logical that Harry had it.

The only question was, why didn’t Dumbledore tell Harry from the start? This must have come as a terrible shock to him, seeing all these memories and learning of all this in such a short time without expecting to.

“And the flower?”

“Maybe a charm or something? No, that doesn’t make sense. She didn’t have time to cast a charm on it then…”

“Well, I know who may be able to answer all this,”

Harry nodded, “Dumbledore,” he said, and stood up. He held his hand out to Hermione and helped her to her feet. With a look of determination very much like the one his mother’s face had held in the memory, he took Hermione’s hands, “We’ll have to Apparate to Hogsmade,” he said.

“Yes, I don’t have any Floo powder and I doubt there still is any here,”

“In front of Honeydukes?”

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes. Harry did the same, concentrating on where they wanted to go. He saw flashes of Honeydukes, and concentrated on one, waiting for Hermione to do so as well. He felt her squeeze his hand gently, before he felt himself spinning. He opened his eyes, watching Hermione’s hair swirl around her, her eyes barely open and her mouth curled in a tiny smile. As he caught sight of Honeydukes, he tightened his grip on Hermione’s hands and concentrated again on the place he wanted to appear. A second later, he found himself standing in front of the store, still holding Hermione’s hands in his.

Hermione gazed up at him, her eyes showing deep concern for him. She opened her mouth slightly as if to speak, but hesitated, looking down at their hands. She looked back up, a small, sad smile on her face, “Oh, Harry…” she breathed, releasing his hand and wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Harry returned the hug, caressing her hair with his hand, mumbling something incoherent.

Hermione sobbed, unable to say anything else. She let the tears fall, tightening her grip on Harry’s robe. She knew Harry was feeling the same, if not worse. She could tell from the way he had looked at her, that he was suppressing his emotions. She could feel the tension that seemed to be boiling inside him, the battle against his emotions, and she wished she could make him feel better. She wished, but she knew she couldn’t. There was nothing that could ease the dull aching of his soul, or stop the inevitable tears of overwhelming and desolation from sliding down his cheeks and unto her soft brown hair…

And yet, this had been what he needed. As the tears slowly made their way down his cheeks, he felt his despair lessen slightly. He felt himself growing more composed, his pain relieved for the moment, even though he knew that it would later come to haunt him.

He pulled back, knowing that they ought to be getting back. His heart sunk at the sight of Hermione’s tearstained face, but he managed to smile, “Thanks, Hermione,”

She smiled back, “You know I don’t mind, Harry. I hate seeing you feeling so trapped…” her voice trailed off before she began speaking again, “I’m always here for you…I want you to know that. No matter what,”

Unable to find words to express the peculiar way he felt when she said that, Harry hugged her again very tightly, hoping she would understand. He kissed the top of her head lightly and squeezed her gently before pulling back and taking her hand, “C’mon…we should be getting to the Castle,”

Hermione smiled again, and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, “Okay,”

Hand in hand, they began walking towards the Hogwarts gates.

---

A/N: Finals are coming up guys, so don’t be surprised that I took my time with this chapter. Luckily, not as long as other times. =) Next chapter will take a longer time, since this week my attention will be fully devoted to etching every single detail that’s coming up for my tests in my head. And of course, one finals are finished, celebration ensues. =D I just want you all to know, so you don’t think I’ve deserted the fic or something.

Till the next!

Chapter Seventeen: Through the Fog

Earlier that night, at approximately 7:15 p.m., Lily and James Potter’s old house in Godric’s Hollow

“Why would he be here, of all places?” Malfoy asked, an obvious note of bewilderment in his cold voice, “Are you completely sure you tracked the right person, Bella?”

Bellatrix smiled, “Of course I am. And, if things go as planned, we’ll have more than a corpse for our Master.”

“Of course,” breathed Mulciber, his eyes shining with malice, “There must be an important reason for his presence here. Perhaps something related to�”“

“The Potter boy, yes,” Bellatrix finished impatiently, “Now, wait until he is inside and at a safe distance from the door before you lock it, Lucius. We’ll cast a Body-Bind on him before he even realizes what is happening.”

Malfoy nodded, edging closer to the door, brushing some dust off his robes. With a look of utter distaste, he surveyed the ruins of Lily and James Potter’s old house. It seemed as if it hadn’t been touched since that night when it all happened�”when everything had changed. When the Dark Lord’s followers had been tested beyond measure…their loyalty was questioned, their devotion doubted by their own kind. They had been hunted, caught and sent to Azkaban without mercy, and only those clever enough to fool everyone had managed to save themselves.

Lucius had been one of those. It had been easy enough to say he never meant anything he did, that he was fooled, but in truth, what had saved him from jail were his connections with the Ministry. A few well-placed owls, and he had been guaranteed that he wouldn’t be sent to Azkaban. As easy as that.

His Master had, strangely enough, taken him back, even though he had been one of those that hadn’t gone to his aid. He never lost faith, of course, but he wasn’t about to go risking his life and his reputation looking for a wizard whose location was a mere rumor. He had other things to take care of, and, perhaps because the Dark Lord knew they would be of use in a near future, he had forgiven him.

Others hadn’t gotten it so easy. Some had gone to Azkaban�”like the Lestranges�”while others who managed to stay out of jail were punished by their Master at the moment he came back. Some rumored that the Dark Lord was biding his time and would seek revenge against him, but Lucius knew better. If he hadn’t been disposed of yet, it was because there was something important regarding him. Or perhaps he truly had earned the Dark Lord’s trust, if that was even possible.

The slight creak of the door broke Lucius from his thoughts. He turned his head sharply to look at the door, and watched quietly as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped inside, cloak wrapped firmly around him. Kingsley’s tall frame froze for a moment as he turned to close the door, before the door creaked again and was shut with a small click.

Kingsley moved slowly across the room, taking a long time as he shrugged off his cloak. Lucius gritted his teeth, came to his feet in a sharp move, and whipped his wand at the door, muttering the Alohomora charm. At that same time, Bellatrix stepped from the shadows and attempted to cast a Body-Bind on Kingsley.

Kingsley, however, expected the attack, and his wand dropped into his hand from inside his sleeve. In a quick move, he dodged Bellatrix’s spell. Filled with a momentary confusion as to where, exactly, they would be standing, he listened closely to any movement, and heard something from the direction of the door. Pointing his wand near the door, he muttered, “Incarcerous.”

Malfoy managed to avoid the spell, lifting the Disillusionment charm and flashing a smirk in Kingsley’s direction, “Clever, Shacklebolt, but you will have to be quicker if you intend on actually cursing one of us.”

Kingsley remained silent, calculating, watching as two more figures emerged. Bellatrix laughed, “No way out of this, I’m afraid. The Dark Lord wants you dead, and we will gladly carry out his orders,” she said, her voice cold and barely above a whisper, as she toyed with her wand between her fingers.

“He will gain nothing from my death,” Kingsley said, his voice steady.

Mulciber smirked, “You are a threat to us. Dumbledore must be rid of spies in the Ministry; it doesn’t quite help us, you see. And of course, there is the reason for your being here…”

Kingsley laughed, “Too bad. He won’t be finding that out, as far as I’m concerned.”

Malfoy raised his wand, quickly uttering the incantation for the full body bind and watching in satisfaction as Kinsley’s body froze and fell, colliding heavily with the floor, “Surely you must be daft, Shacklebolt. What the Dark Lord wants, he gets.”

Bellatrix stepped forward, “Legilimens,” she hissed, keeping her gaze steady on Kingsley’s eyes. She was met, however, with complete blankness…peace of mind. She fought harder against his defenses, against his Occlumency training. A brick wall began to rise out of nowhere, and she knew she was slowly beating him. She began to kick at the wall, to push harder into his mind, and a small crack formed in the wall. It expanded quickly, until the wall itself shattered. Flashes came immediately before her�”memories from his childhood, from the First War, flashes of his cubicle at the Ministry, Dumbledore, numerous scraps of parchment littered over a long table, a raven-haired woman, and, another flash of Dumbledore, clearly uttering the word ‘Potter’. She concentrated on that memory, fighting against his already weakened defenses, and saw the memory.

“He must be prepared for this, Kingsley. He will face it very soon indeed�”“

“But Albus, at his parents’ house? It’s the boy’s first training session. Surely you cannot be serious. He will be weakened from being there in the first place,”

“Initially, yes. But he will be strengthened from the experience, and that is exactly what he needs. Voldemort will be aiming for his weaknesses, and his parents are one of those. He must learn to overcome his pain,”

Kingsley sighed, “At what time should I be there?”

“Eight. Preferably earlier, to straighten things up a tad,”

“Very well,”

Bellatrix came back to the present with a jolt, staggering backwards. Malfoy and Mulciber looked at her expectantly, “So? What did you see?” Malfoy asked impatiently.

“No time for that. For now, let us concentrate on what we came here for.”

Malfoy frowned momentarily, but nodded, “Fine, then,” he said angrily, fingering his wand and pointing it in Kingsley’s direction.

“Do it quickly. An Avada will do.”

Malfoy gritted his teeth in annoyance, “Fine. An Avada. Fine,” he hissed, taking a deep breath and flashing a nasty grin in Kingsley’s direction, “Night, Shacklebolt. Say hello to Rowen for me,” he added, enjoying the flash of anger that flared up in Kingsley’s eyes at the name, “Avada Kedavra!”

Kingsley’s eyes widened as the spell hit him, but he remained immobile, obviously dead.

---

9:11 p.m., Wednesday night, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry walked slowly, guiding Hermione through a narrow passageway behind a portrait on the second floor. They hadn’t spoken since they left Hogsmade, but he could feel the relaxation in her touch. She was much calmer than she had been back at Godric’s Hollow, and, to be honest, so was he.

Although being there had given him a small feeling of closeness to his parents, he couldn’t bear being there. Something in the atmosphere had seemed odd, and he felt anxious. Besides, his presence there and his gaze on the worn walls had only reawakened the pain he felt whenever he thought of his parents’ death.

Everything…the pendant, his room, Hermione’s worried eyes, the memories...it all made tension flare up inside him. He didn’t know what to feel. He just felt hopeless, like he could do nothing to better his situation or stop anything else from happening. He felt as if he were a pawn in his own life, as if he weren’t living it, as if he didn’t have any say in what was to happen. From the day Voldemort murdered his parents, he wasn’t able to decide anything that happened in his life. Everything he did seemed to be wrong…

“Harry?” Hermione said softly, “We...we’re here,” she released his hand and caressed the side of his face delicately, trying to draw his attention.

Harry glanced at the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office, “I’m not sure I want to go in,” he said in a low voice, meeting her eyes.

“Why?”

“What do you think he’ll say to us, Hermione? I just…I don’t know. He probably won’t tell us everything we need to know, or he’ll give us an excuse.”

“Harry…I know you’re going through a painful time, after watching those memories and having that pendant in your hand. I know you feel like nothing’s okay, but…” she trailed off, biting her lip, “We need to hear what Dumbledore has to say,” she said in a lower voice, her tone uncertain, as if she too had somehow begin to doubt what Dumbledore may say to them.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. It wasn’t what excuse Dumbledore might give them. It was something more along the lines of…not really wanting to discuss what happened. Saying it out loud would make it all seem real again, would bring forth all the raw pain he thought he had forgotten. And, like with Sirius, no one would understand.

“Okay, fine,” Harry grunted suddenly, moving towards the gargoyle.

Hermione crossed her arms, giving him a puzzled look, “Harry, what�”?”

Harry sighed, trying to level his voice so as to sound normal, “It’s okay, Hermione. I’m fine. Come on,” he added, beckoning her closer as he gave the gargoyle the password. It sprung aside, revealing the entrance, and they stepped forward, quiet as ever, not quite knowing what to say to each other.

Hermione knew well Harry was not okay. How could he be, after all? There was something bothering him, and although she knew better than to ask what it was, she felt as if she should be able to ease his pain. He had comforted her when she felt despaired, and cradled her in his arms when she cried, and she wanted to do the same for him. She wanted him to find solace, to let go of his pain, even if just for a small time again, and be happy. He deserved to.

She looked up at him, taking in the dark expression in his eyes as he stared upwards, not noticing her gaze on him. As she slowly raised her hand to cup his cheek, she felt her heart ache for him. She wanted to share his pain, if that would mean lessening its effect on him. As her hand made contact with his cold face, his eyes darted towards hers, his brow furrowing very slightly. She shook her head, already feeling herself near tears, and whispered softly:

“Harry, have you already forgotten what I told you back in Hogsmade? I’m here for you, whenever you feel like this. I want to help you, make you feel better. You don’t deserve to be like this,” she said, a small, sad smile on her face, “I love you, Harry, and I hate to see you hide your troubles. Please…you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. All you have to do…is keep me close, lose yourself in my words, and look for me when you’re feeling like this.”

Harry looked back at her, his expression now one of slight confusion, and nodded silently, just as they reached the landing. They stepped off the staircase, still gazing at each other, and Hermione hugged him, her arms curling around his middle and her head rested on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, as well, inclining his head forward towards her head, inhaling the soft smell of her.

They pulled back, smiled at each other, and moved towards the door, Harry stretching his hand out to knock, when Hermione held him back. Holding her index finger up to he lips, she leant closer to the door, listening. Harry imitated her gesture, and slowly, he began to hear the vaguely muffled sounds of conversation.

“…we’re just going in circles, here, Albus. Honestly, I’m worried out of my mind for his sake and mine. There has to be something we can do,” the unmistakable voice of Professor Trewlaney spoke, her tone impatient and anxious. Harry and Hermione exchanged a puzzled frown, before directing their attentions back to the conversation.

“I understand how you feel, Sibyll. Believe me, I am trying my best to find a way to retrieve Wormtail without placing any of the Order in danger, but I am finding that impossible. He must already be in Voldemort’s presence, and it would be murder to attempt saving him, especially now that Severus has been discovered.”

Snape spoke next, “And, in all honestly, the coward’s death has been postponed for much too long. Out of sheer luck and casualty has he managed to remain alive for these years. He will be no loss.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, Snape, but do note that he’s heard the prophecy!” Sibyll spat, her voice quivering with anger, “Voldemort must have already seen his memories from the past few days. If anything, he’s probably dead by now.” she added.

“Then why are we still discussing him? There are far more pressing matter s at hand,” Severus snapped.

“Enough,” came Dumbledore’s voice, “I would trust you both to keep a civil attitude towards each other for the remainder of this meeting, as you know how crucial time is. We have many things to discuss, and I’m afraid not all the time we need.”

Harry looked at Hermione and asked, in voice barely above a whisper, “Should we go inside now?”

Hermione nodded, her hair falling over her shoulders and obscuring her face from view. Despite this, Harry could vividly see the concentrated look on her face as she processed what they had heard and attempted to connect it with all that had happened over the last few days. She stood up straight, and calmly stretched her hand out to open the door without knocking. Harry jerked his hand out to stop her, but she insisted, “If we knock, Snape and Trewlaney will leave.”

Harry hesitated, but released her hand, nodding. Hermione twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door open, the voices immediately quieting. As they stepped inside, all eyes were on them�”Trewlaney, wide-eyed surprise; Snape, annoyance and what appeared to be outrage; and Dumbledore, polite confusion, a slight worry in his eyes.

“Potter!” Snape hissed, recovering from the shock, “This is a private conversation! Get out this instant!” He looked rather purple, a vein throbbing in his temple, and Harry was vaguely reminded of the time he had seen his memories in the Pensieve.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore cut him off, raising his hand. The twinkle barely visible in his eyes, he asked, “Harry, why are you not at training?”

“I…Kingsley wasn’t there,”

His statement was met by a stunned silence. Knowing he now had their full attention, he began to explain, from the start, what had happened. As he spoke, Snape met his eyes with a skeptical look, as if he thought he was making everything up as an elaborate excuse. Dumbledore and Trewlaney, however, looked at him intently with grimly intrigued looks, their eyes fixed upon him.

Hermione stood by his side, feeling slightly uncomfortable. As she heard what Harry said, it all seemed like a distant dream, something of which she remembered vague details, and her feelings throughout it. It wasn’t as if she didn’t remember anything, of course, it was just…hearing it said out loud was so different, so real. As if all this time, she had unconsciously been wishing this had all been a dream.

Distantly, she began thinking again, gears turning in her head. Harry’s voice began to fade, until the only thing she could hear were her thoughts.

Apparently, Wormtail had disappeared from somewhere, and was now back with Voldemort, which implied that he hadn’t been there to begin with. Trewlaney seemed to be involved, somehow, which might mean that he had been with her, for some reason.

She had no clue how Snape fitted into all of this, but according to what she’d just heard, his identity had been discovered. ‘Identity’ would refer to him being a spy for Dumbledore. That he had been discovered meant that the Order would be unable to know exactly what Voldemort was planning.

Additionally, they had spoken of a prophecy, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was that she had heard recently�”Honestly, prophecies aren’t made my dozens.

She failed to see how everything that had happened in Godric’s Hollow went with all of this, however. It could be that it happened out of pure casualty, but tied in with this somehow later. It could be a direct consequence of this whole mess, or maybe�”

A small nudge on her arm brought her from her thoughts to the present, where Harry had stopped speaking, and Dumbledore, Trewlaney and Snape were looking at him with expectant expressions.

“Do you have the pendant with you, Harry?”

Hermione realized what she wanted him to do, and immediately cleared her throat, “Professor, why did you send us there, to Godric’s Hollow, of all places?”

Dumbledore’s eyes darted from Harry to Hermione, a vague look of surprise in his eyes, as if he had barely registered she was there. There was a tense moment of silence after her question, before he spoke, his voice weary, “I know that Harry feels pain for the loss of his parents. It is normal, of course, that Voldemort would attempt to use that against him. I thought that by sending you there to train, he would be strengthened from his experience, and would eventually learn to overcome his pain.”

Harry nodded, as if he expected such an answer, “But what about Kingsley?”

“That is precisely what both puzzles and worries me the most. He had contacted me at approximately twenty minutes past seven, informing me that he was already there making sure the environment was safe for your training. It was a note, signed by him, and sent using the phoenix feather all Order members keep for communication purposes.”

Silence met his words as everyone pondered on this. Was it possible that something had happened to Kingsley after he sent the letter? Or what if the letter was faked, somehow? It sounded ridiculous, but something odd had obviously happened.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said again, “Do you have the pendant with you?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?” Harry asked, fighting with himself to keep his voice level, “Why did you have to make me got there and find it all out all of a sudden?”

Dumbledore sighed, “I was never sure it survived the attack, or if Lily used it. When several people and I went to check the house, after it all happened, there was nothing there, but ruins. The pendant must have fallen under the floorboards�”a place we never thought necessary to check. We merely assumed she hadn’t used it, and that it had been entirely her dying for you that had saved you,” he paused, fixing him with a pained stare, “Apparently, it was not.”

Harry stood stock still, glaring, “So…you didn’t lie,” it wasn’t a question, really. It was more along the lines of a comment to himself, a reassurance, “You never intended on me finding it?”

Dumbledore shook his head, “I did not know it still existed, Harry. My only purpose in sending you there tonight was that you would find strength in your weakness,” he sighed, “But it appears that sending you there was not the best thing to do. Please, sit down, both of you. We all have much to discuss.”

Snape made a noise of incredulousness, turning to Dumbledore, “Albus, what need have they to know everything? We cannot keep informing others of what is happening. It is a liability to�”“

“I do not intend on having them know everything. Merely…what they need to know,” Dumbledore said, his voice carrying a note of finality, clearly denoting that he wouldn’t change his mind, “Now,” he said, turning to Harry and Hermione, who had sat on two chairs that had seemingly appeared there when he had asked them to sit, “Let us start from the beginning, shall we? From Professor Trewlaney’s disappearance…”

---

10:03 p.m., Friday night, Hogwarts Grounds

“Harry,” Hermione said, laughing, “What in the world are you doing? Where are we going?” They were walking slowly, a cloth covering Hermione’s eyes as Harry guided her carefully outside. He smiled at her incessant questions, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

“You’ll see. This is out night, Hermione. Nothing will interrupt us. I reckon we need this time alone after this week,” he said, and kissed her neck softly. She remained silent, a contented smile on her lips as she turned her face in Harry’s direction and attempted to kiss his lips, instead kissing him somewhere along his jaw line. Harry chuckled, and continued to lead her to where he wanted to take her.

He really didn’t have much planned, exactly. In fact, he didn’t have anything planned except the place where they were going. But he knew it wouldn’t matter to her. He hoped so, anyway.

“Mmm…Harry? Are we outside?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning.

“Why are you taking me outside?” Hermione asked, also grinning. She raised her hand to touch Harry’s, which rested on her shoulder, and caressed it softly as he guided her along the grass.

“You’ll see,” Harry said absentmindedly as he felt her hand on his, “Remember on Monday? I’d promised we’d go to a ‘secret’ place near the lake?” she thought for a moment, then nodded. As he steered her towards the lake, Harry smiled, “Well, that’s where I’m taking you.”

“Should be fun,” Hermione said, inclining her head backwards and smiling up at him. She loved how this night was going. It was all so romantic, so wonderful. So very much like the way she had wanted their relationship to be from the start, but knew it couldn’t be so, “But you’re sure there won’t be more people, right?” she added, stroking his hand with her fingers.

“Eager to get me alone, are you?” Harry teased, lowering his hands from her shoulders to her middle and squeezed her sides gently.

Hermione laughed softly, “Who can blame me?” she said, and, if she hadn’t had a blindfold on, she would have winked at him.

They continued with their light conversation all the way to the lake, and didn’t think once about the things that had been constantly haunting their minds since Wednesday. Back in Dumbledore’s office, everything had been cleared up�”why Trewlaney had disappeared, how she came to collaborate with Wormtail, and why Snape was helping them, among other things. Having the mystery cleared up took a great deal off their shoulders, and instead of dwelling on that, they had come to place it at the back of their minds, to be forgotten whilst they thought of another matter. Something that both worried and excited them.

They were to meet a friend of Dumbledore’s that lived in Ireland. This man, who went by the name of Fabrice Dupont, was a French craftsman, and just so happened to have been the person who made the amulet James gave to Lily. Dumbledore had deemed it necessary to pay him a visit when they tested the amulet in is office, Harry holding it and Hermione casting a tentative Jelly-Legs jinx on him, and the amulet hadn’t protected him.

Dumbledore didn’t know why, exactly, the amulet didn’t work. He explained that Fabrice sometimes made the amulets specific�”meaning that they only responded to certain dangers�”and that that might be what was causing the amulet to fail against a Jelly-Legs hex. There was no way of being sure, he explained, without actually casting spells that might harm Harry, or throwing him into a duel, so they would have to pay Fabrice a visit. They would go with Remus, Elphias Doge, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Hestia Jones.

Harry’s initial reaction was surprise. He would have thought that Dumbledore wouldn’t risk them going out of the castle in such circumstances. Then, he’d shrugged to himself, thinking that they would probably Floo or Apparate directly to the house. It wasn’t like they were going to fly there. And then, he’d become excited for the trip. They would be out of Hogwarts, if just for a small time, and, possibly, he would be able to both relax and enjoy himself.

Hermione had been fighting with her own emotions towards the trip, a part of her thinking it was horribly dangerous to travel when they were so close to the Final Battle, in the middle of a War between Dumbledore’s lot, Voldemort’s followers, and those who chose no side. Everyday more murders surfaced, everyday more disappearances were reported, and everyday the Muggles became more confused and suspicious. It just wasn’t safe.

Then another part of her argued that they would probably Apparate there, or Floo at the least. They would be there in seconds, so how could any harm come to them? Uncertainly, she reasoned that the trip wouldn’t be so bad; she would be with Harry (under the watch of no less than five adults, yes, but still), and Ireland was really a lovely place. It would be nice to go there.

And with that, they had agreed to go, and the trip hadn’t left their minds since.

Until now, of course.

“We’re here,” Harry declared, untying the cloth from Hermione’s eyes and revealing the sight before them. By Hermione’s soft gasp, he knew she loved it.

“Oh, Harry…it’s beautiful,” she said softly, taking a few steps closer to it.

They were at a part of the lake opposite to the one they always visited, though it seemed like a completely different lake altogether. Very large trees on either side, some of their branches so long they almost touched the water, flanked it. The water itself seemed to have an eerily beautiful sort of glow, as if it were frozen ice. But what was most captivating about the sight were the small bits of light that seemed to be flying slowly around the trees, pausing on the branches and forming large clusters, before scattering. They glowed in different colors, sometimes pink, other times orange, and most of the time, green. As they walked closer, they seemed to sense their presence, and began to circle them as well, sometimes pausing in their hair or shoulders.

As Hermione looked around her in awe, a though occurred to her, “Oh, these are fairies, aren’t they?” she asked, a smile spreading across her lips.

Harry nodded, “Either that, or something along those lines.”

Hermione turned to him, her round, entrancing brown eyes locking on his. For a split second, Harry thought back to the first days of their relationship, when the weight of the world seemed to be on their shoulders and this happiness, this peace, this togetherness, seemed to be so very far away. He remembered the worry in her eyes, so clear, so painful to watch, and how much it contrasted with her current expression, delight etched into her features, her eyes misty and shining with contentedness. As she raised her hand to his shoulders, tracing a line from there to his neck, he remembered how once, all he was able to do was long for her touch, her breath in his ear as she spoke, her body close to his, thinking he could never have that. As she stood on tiptoe and leant forward close to him, he surveyed her soft smile of mingled mischievousness and timidity with a smile of his own, his mind going completely blank.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice a caress to his ears.

As she leant forward towards his lips, he placed his right hand on her waist and raised his left hand to her mouth, placing two fingers on her lips to stop her. She frowned, then looked up at him playfully, her eyes questioning.

“I love you more,” he declared, and she pursed her lips playfully, rolling her eyes. She used her free hand to hold his hand away from her mouth, and gently leant forward again, this time capturing his mouth with her lips. He released his hand from her grip and buried it in her hair, holding soft wisps of it between his fingers. Her free hand rose to his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, pressing them together. Their lips parted as Harry began to plant small kisses along her jaw line and down her neck, encouraged by the soft sounds Hermione made. She began to tug off her robe herself, and, in mild surprise, Harry helped her. As the robe fell to the ground in a heap, Harry began to unbutton Hermione’s shirt…

First button�”nothing happened…second button�”Hermione resumed he fervent kissing…third button�”she ran her hands along his shoulders and back…fourth button�”he thought he heard her moan softly as his hand slipped inside her shirt…and then, at the fifth button, she stopped kissing him, a look of surprise in her eyes.

“I...we…we can’t,” she mumbled, pulling away and re-buttoning her shirt, “I’m such an idiot for doing this.”

Harry shook his head, “No…I understand, I’m sorry. I just…I get carried away,” he ran a hand through his hair, feeling faintly worried now. He suddenly realized that they were alone, by the lake, safely hidden, and worried slightly, hoping she didn’t think he’d somehow planned this to go a certain way.

“No, I mean…well, I don’t know what I mean,” she finished, sighing and shaking her head, “Come on, let’s sit down under the trees. We can talk,” she knelt on the ground for a moment, grabbing her robe and slipping it on, before walking to a tree packed with the fairy-like lights.

He walked behind her and sat down, staring at his fingers. She was looking around at the trees, a mildly curious expression on her face. She then turned to him, waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention, and smiled, “How did you find this place?” she asked, pausing for a moment, as if she wanted to add something else, “A…romantic adventure, perhaps?” she added teasingly, and Harry felt himself redden.

“Well…no, not technically,”

Hermione stared at him, her smile fading slightly, until she saw the playful grin on his face, “Oh, you liar,” she said, a small trace of laughter in her voice, “You had me worried for a moment there, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.”

He laughed, “No, but really. Fred and George told me about it. Seems that they had their fair share of…adventures here.”

“What were you talking about that brought them to telling you that?” Hermione asked curiously, turning on the grass so that she was facing him.

“I…well, I don’t know. I think I was writing you a letter.”

A blush crept to Hermione’s cheeks, “Funny, that you followed their advice,” she commented, staring up at the starry sky, “Their shop is going really well, you know? Ron got a letter from them back in February,” the words had slipped out before she could keep them in, Ron’s name slipping right out. Her eyes widened momentarily and her frame tensing, deciding to wait and see how Harry reacted. He might not have noticed, after all.

“Yeah?” Harry said, noticing both her mention of Ron and the way she reacted. He decided not to say anything regarding that, hoping she’d go along.

Hermione felt relieved when Harry didn’t comment, and so continued, her frame relaxing, “Uh-huh. And it looks like Hogwarts students are randomly receiving fliers advertising their shop, and exhorting them to buy stuff by Owl Order. I got one the other day, too…I keep forgetting to ask Dumbledore if that’s legal.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head, “It probably is. And if it isn’t, Dumbledore won’t do anything about it. It doesn’t bother anyone.”

“Of course they do! Listen, the other day…”

As they continued in their happy banter, Harry couldn’t keep her eyes off Hermione. The way her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, soft curls framing her face; the way her eyes shone with passion as she argued over something, an occasional flash of annoyance or merriment appearing; the way she gestured with her hands when she wanted to make a point, and, of course, the way she looked at him when he suggested they go for a swim.

“What?” she asked incredulously, her mouth curling into an irrepressible smile, her cheeks flushing bright red, and her eyes going round.

“I’m serious,” Harry said, grinning, “You can…err…conjure another shirt?” he suggested tentatively, not knowing how to phrase his idea better.

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly, a flash of determination in her eyes, “No, I’m fine. Let’s go, then,” she said offhandedly, standing up and walking towards the edge of the lake. She kicked off her shoes and socks, keeping her robe tightly wrapped around her. Harry remained sitting where he was, staring confusedly at her. She turned, grinning broadly, “Having second thoughts? The water’s too cold for you?” she teased, her feet coming in contact with the water. She suppressed a shiver; it really was quite cold, and walked further into the water, eventually submerging herself in it completely.

Harry stood up, kicked his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly beside Hermione’s before wading into the water as well.

Hermione emerged, taking a deep gulp of air, her hair completely soaked, and looked over at him, “I’ll race you to the other side,” she challenged suddenly, her voice breathless.

Harry grinned, “You sure? I’ve longer legs.”

“And I’ve other tricks up my sleeve.”

“And what are those?”

Hermione shrugged, making her way towards him slowly. She slipped her robe off, letting it float in the water, and twined her arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him into a passionate embrace. They stayed that way for a while, until she pulled away abruptly and submerged herself in the water. When she emerged again, she was several feet away, in the direction of the other side of the lake.

“Ha!” she said, waving at him playfully and submerging herself in the water again.

“Hey, that’s not fair, Hermione!” Harry called after her, before he, too, pulled his robe off and began swimming towards the other side of the lake, registering vaguely how nice it was to be carelessly laughing and joking around with Hermione.

No thoughts about what others might think or say.

No worries about Voldemort or Death Eaters.

No anxiousness about what might happen.

Just…blissful happiness; the kind that never lasted, but you always wished it would, with all your heart, with all your soul.

---

A/N: No, you are not dreaming. Alas, I have updated! =D

Okay, so, I wanted to ask you all something. For next chapter, I have a bit with Voldy and the DE planned, and then it's off to Easter. But I have a slight problem...when exactly is Easter in Britain? Like, lin the last week of March or something? And how long does it last? Where I left off this chapter, by the way, it is Friday, March 10th. I'd really appreciate it if someone could give me a hand on this!

And another, not so important matter--I wrote a D/G one-shot, Sweet Misery, so if you're bored or are into that ship, do check it out! * coughreviewcough * =) Lol.

So...till the next!

Chapter Eighteen: Expect the Unexpected

Hermione:

I’m not sure how to answer your letter, to be honest. I am not even sure what I am supposed to feel. Mixed emotions plague my mind, and I have no real guidance in this. I don’t know whether I’m right or wrong anymore.

Well, that is a start, I suppose. Your letter brought forth several points I knew not of, and they make perfect sense for your argument. I thought that you were in love with Ron, sweetheart, as he was so obviously with you. You must have been sending mixed signals, because the boy was truly under the illusion that you loved him. Please don’t say that you did love him, because we both know that is not true. You may have felt towards him as a friend, maybe even as a brother, but never in the way he thought.

And I accept that. It is okay that you didn’t quite love him; that you became confused. At your age it is easy to mistake feelings. It is, however, justified that I was angry at you for what you did. Surely you could have noticed that you didn’t love him before things got so serious?

These are things we cannot sort out in letters, I’m afraid. These are the things that need deep explaining, and perhaps they are the sort that you do not want to write.

I never assumed your relationship with Harry was based on lust, of all things. What I thought�”and forgive me for believing this�”was that there was a slight chance that you had mistaken a physical attraction for something deeper. Hormones in a seventeen-year-old’s body are still going a bit wild, and you must admit there could have been a possibility.

What I should have noticed, however, was that that possibility disappeared when you were involved. I was such a fool, Hermione, and I beg you to forgive me for that. I know you are responsible and smart, and that you would have never let yourself get so carried away. You did what you did for a good reason.

You are completely right in saying that you moved too fast, however. That is, truly, what made me feel so angry at you. It is the fact that you didn’t take time to soften the impact on your lives that makes me feel that you were irresponsible. I expected much better of you. And of course it took you some time to get used to each other. Already you have broken past the initial awkwardness, and I am proud of you for that. It takes a lot of character to do so in such a short time. I daresay you still aren’t completely used to your situation. There are things about one another that you two have no idea of, and only time will help you there.

Praise aside, Hermione…I am afraid your father and I are not ready to accept your relationship. It is nothing personal…merely that we need some time to get used to the idea. We are so worried for you, my dear, and your comment about being willing to die for him doesn’t help our nerves at all. It is noble…but not at all what we want to hear from you…what we need to hear, I mean. You may think that you are crucial, honey, but do keep in mind that things sometimes aren’t what they seem. You may be right, and I wish you all the triumph in the world if that is so, but you may be wrong…at which I would never forgive myself for not interfering. I assure you, the only reason I haven’t is because, despite all that has happened, I�”we�”still trust and love you.

Please, take things slowly. And I mean that, not with Harry�”that is your decision alone�”but regarding your father and I. We need time, Hermione. We have to mull things over. I promise you that if you are ever in any need we will help you in every way we can, but…we need some time to accept this. I am sorry.

I am afraid for you, Hermione. Things are becoming more and more complicated as I write. The Muggle world is at war�”Scotland and Germany, that is�”and I fear it will soon spread until we have a World War in our hands. I suspect that, deep down, it is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that is behind this. Dumbledore is aware, though, so we mustn’t fret. He is a brilliant man, and I am sure he already is at work to solve what is happening.

It is all a matter of time, I suppose.

Oh, please, Hermione…promise me you will take care and watch yourself. Please, don’t do something as drastic for Harry as dying for him. Please, think before you act…I love you. We�”your father and I�”both do. We don’t want to lose you. Do remember that he who strives to touch a star often stumbles upon a single straw. Be careful.

And, I think you ought to know this…Dumbledore will be moving us from our residence in two or three weeks. Living in Scotland isn’t quite as safe as it once was. We shall be moving to another location�”I haven’t been told where�”in which we will be perfectly safe, or so I am assured.

I probably shouldn’t have written that. This isn’t safe to owl now, is it? I think I’ll talk to one of Dumbledore’s lot to see if they can send it to you. They have safer methods, do they not?

Oh, I think that is them now. Someone’s entering through the front door. Odd people…didn’t they say they would not come until the day of our move? And they know better than to just come in through the front door. Honestly, anyone could see them. They always wear those odd robes, and one even has pink hair!

Well, take care, darling. I love you.

Write back, and send your answer with…well, use the Order’s method. We really can’t risk anyone reading all this, can we?

Lots of love,
Your mother

---

1:20a.m., Saturday morning, Small house bordering Wales and England

“I must be mishearing things,” Voldemort said silkily, eyes narrowed, bright with anger. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Mulciber remained stiffly kneeling, heads bowed, waiting for his next words with a feel of apprehension. Voldemort circled them as he spoke, “I cannot comprehend why, when you had Potter and his Mudblood girlfriend at your grasp, you turned away.”

His voice, barely above a hiss, seemed much more chilling than a full-blown yell. But they hadn’t quite expected that. The Dark Lord remained composed until the last moment, and even then he would transfer his anger by delivering a fatal curse.

“Should one of you fail to explain, I will be forced to take more…drastic action,” he said softly, his fingers encircling themselves around the handle of his wand as he stopped before them, scarlet eyes flashing expectantly.

Bellatrix raised her head, doing her best to face her Master with no trace of fear in her eyes, “Master, it was all my doing. I convinced Mulciber and Lucius to do as I said.”

Voldemort nodded silently, waving his hand impatiently as a sign for her to continue. Bellatrix spoke again, inexplicable relief flooding her, “I thought it would be cowardly to take advantage of the situation in such a way. Better to use cleverness as a means to lure them to us. It was pure chance, my lord. I refuse to be glorious in your presence by a casualty.”

Voldemort surveyed her with a look of mingled anger and understanding. He smirked, “Pride. That is what kept you from doing my bidding? Your filthy, unimportant pride?”

Bellatrix bowed her head again, this time sure she shouldn’t answer Voldemort. If she argued, she would surely find herself in more trouble than she already was.

“Fool!” Voldemort hissed, flicking his hand at her. In a second, she was twitching on the floor, writhing, under the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Pain flooded through her body…under her skin…in her bones…it flowed through her bloodstream at an alarming rate. She cried out, tears leaking out of her eyes as she struggled to bring herself up to her knees, at the least. Her arms and legs bent in odd angles; her body twisting in unnatural spasms as she felt herself grow numb. She became silent, suddenly, wishing no more than to die. To feel no more pain, to seize being exposed to people as cruel as Voldemort…to move to an unknown bliss of nothingness.

Then the pain stopped. She fell facedown on the ground, her arms barely able to keep her face from colliding with the dull, wooden floor. Her breathing was ragged, forced, and she felt her nose bleeding. Damn. How long had she been held under the curse?

“Long enough for you to comprehend that the Dark Lord’s bidding is your priority, Bella,” Voldemort said, a hint of scorn in his voice, “Not your pride, or any other human foolishness you care to feel.”

Bellatrix remained gasping on the floor, breathing through her mouth as she held her sleeve to her nose to stop the bleeding. She could barely feel her legs yet, and her arms were not much better. She fumbled for her wand, pointing it to her nose and muttering a spell to heal it. Nothing happened. Apparently, her body was still too weak perform magic. Brilliant.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at her attempt, but made no comment. He turned instead to Malfoy and Mulciber, both of whom were watching Bellatrix struggle with expressions of mingled scorn, relief, and guilt, “As for you both, that should serve as reminder enough. I shall move on to another problem that has recently come to my attention. You are aware, of course, that Severus is indeed a traitor to the Dark Lord. He has been serving Dumbledore as a spy for all these years, somehow managing to keep it from me. Clearly, he is a skilled Occlumens. This is simple. Should you come across him as you carry out my orders, do not kill him. Bring him to me. I daresay he and Lord Voldemort ought to have a small chat before his death.”

They nodded, and he continued speaking, “Now, there is a small detour you must take before you continue your initial mission of eliminating the Order members. It appears that the order is aware of our interference in the war between those filthy Muggles. Although that would give us an excuse to attack them, I believe we ought to lure them to us, as Bella kindly supplied, with cleverness,” he glanced over his back at Bellatrix and smirked, seeing her still twitching on the floor. He turned to Malfoy and Mulciber again.

“It is quite simple. I believe it should not take more than a few hours. They are only Muggles, after all,” he smiled as their expressions took on a maniacal gleam, “Not torture, Malfoy. There will be time for that soon. They are merely…bait. A means to lure the Muggle-loving Dumbledore to us.”

He paused, turning and watching as Bellatrix struggled to perform a proper healing charm. With a look of annoyance, he flicked his wand at her, muttering under his breath. As her nose stopped bleeding, she looked up at him in shock, pocketing her wand and furrowing her brow. He merely narrowed his eyes, surveying her with a disgusted look, “You are pathetic, Bella. You ought to be grateful this is the only punishment you are receiving for your dim-witted actions.”

Bellatrix nodded quickly, scrambling to the hem of Voldemort’s robes and kissing them, “Yes, my Lord.”

“Now, listen closely,” Voldemort said, gesturing for her to move beside Malfoy and Mulciber. She did so quickly, shrinking to her knees beside them and looking up at her Master expectantly. He smiled coldly, the simple gesture making him look all the more chilling. His scarlet eyes seemed brighter than ever, tainted by his never-wavering hate and disdain for anything that went against his beliefs. As he looked down upon them, his eyes slits, they all suppressed shivers, for they could never become used to the way those eyes seemed to bore into theirs, penetrating deep inside the confines of the mind and finding things they themselves had long forgotten.

“Very well. As I have said, the task is completely simple. I trust you will not fail again…”

---

9:07a.m., Friday, March 22nd, Gryffindor Common Room

“Harry?”

Her delicate voice roused him from his sleep. Her breath was soft as she whispered in his ear, gently burying her hand in his hair and stroking it. He mumbled, half asleep, and rolled over in the couch, his back to her. He could feel her gaze on him, and he could almost see her lips pursed, as if in annoyance, contradicted by the gleam in her eyes. He felt, as if in a dream, as she gently leaned over him and kissed his neck, murmuring for him to get up. He groaned, not quite sure if it was out of negligence to get up or out of pleasure at her warm kisses, and turned over, his lips meeting hers abruptly. She smirked, pressing her lips closer to his momentarily, before pulling away, hands on her hips.

“Come on, then, Harry. I brought some toast to eat before…well, before we leave,” she said briskly, her voice taking on an uncertain note as she said the last words. The day to leave had come so fast, and she was both excited and worried because of that.

Harry rubbed his eyes, reaching for his glasses on the couch and sliding an open book off his chest, “Bugger…must have fallen asleep here,” he muttered, looking around, “See where studying gets me?” he added, smiling weakly as his eyes grew accustomed to the lighting.

Hermione shrugged, “The fact that it’s the Easter holidays doesn’t mean school is over,” she said, a note of mild sternness creeping to her voice, “N.E.W.Ts are coming up soon, and I don’t want either of us to fail!”

Harry nodded, wearily, having heard this argument over the past two weeks more times than he’d like to count. With most of their questions regarding all that had happened answered, they had been able to lead a relatively normal life at Hogwarts, meaning they could devote more attentions to their studies, and had less to worry about, than before. The only thing that still bothered them�”‘them’ meaning Hermione, because Harry was mostly fine with it�”was that Ron still kept his distance from them at all times, except for inevitable things. It had been a vast improvement when, the day before, he had asked Harry for a quill before a Transfigurations exam (true, he asked around six people before Harry, but it was still a step up, in Hermione’s eyes). She wasn’t pushing him to talk to them these days, though Harry could see the pain in her eyes whenever he averted his gaze from them. He, too, felt bad that their friendship had ended in such a nasty way�”assuming it had ended. Had it? It was so hard to tell now…so hard to believe it really was over, just like that�”but he understood Ron’s reaction, and respected it.

They had also been thinking a lot about their trip to Ireland, having decided with Dumbledore that Easter was the best time to go there. There was bound to be a lot of people out on the streets, traveling, visiting their relatives and such, which meant they would blend in. They would still use concealment charms, though, for safety; you could never be too sure as to whether the person next to you was a Death Eater in disguise or not, these days.

Harry stood up, stretched, and turned to look at Hermione expectantly. She smiled, “Have you packed?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Err…no,” Harry said, giving her an apologetic look, “I’ll just do it now. I won’t take long.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll wait here.”

Harry nodded and walked away in the direction of the boy’s dormitories, while Hermione laid down on the couch where he had been and closed her eyes. She turned her face, her nose grazing the smooth fabric, inhaling the subtle scent of him that still lingered. Her mouth curling into a smile, she remembered the way he’d looked the night before, trying to concentrate on the book. The way his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his chin began to drift towards his chest before he fell asleep completely, book forgotten, open on his lap. She had loved watching it happen, glancing up between pages, her gaze remaining on him tenderly as she watched him doze off.

And when she did finally become to tired to keep reading, she had watched him from her corner of the couch, smiling, her eyes half closed. She’d gotten up, taken off his glasses and placed them on top of the book, before kissing his forehead gently and making her way groggily to her dormitory.

He’d really looked much too peaceful and happy to wake up.

Somewhere along her muses, she lost herself in his smell, however vague it was. Her eyes flickered closed, and she curled her legs beneath her, holding her hands crossed over her chest. A contented smile on her lips, she stopped thinking and slept peacefully, for the first time in quite a while. No thoughts invaded her mind…there was nothing, nothing that could surpass this blissful feeling of untroubled sleep. Odd, really, that today, of all days, she could finally relax.

Harry descended the stairs, a small bag slung over his shoulder. He had washed his face, put on some clean clothes, and managed to wake himself up completely. He was quite surprised when he saw Hermione sleeping soundly on the couch. The way the sunlight illuminated her made her look like an angel, with her pearly, silky skin and rosy lips. The serene look on her face…

It took Harry a few moments to realize that he’d never seen such an expression in Hermione’s face. Never.

He strode towards her, sitting down beside her. He caught sight of the stack of toast she had brought, wrapped neatly in some napkins, and took it into his hands. He let his gaze linger on her freely, taking in every detail of her appearance…every wave of her hair, her parted lips, the delicate curves of her body. He watched her for a long time, before he remembered the stack of toast in his hands. He unwrapped it, not really caring about what he was doing, and took a bite out of one.

He barely noticed when Hermione woke up, her eyes darting to him before she sat up, “Mmmf…I think this couch has some charm casted on it,” she commented, taking a slice of toast, “I barely lied down, and I was already asleep. How long were you up there?”

“Half an hour, at the most. I had to change,” Harry said, leaning forward to kiss her lips quickly before they continued to eat, “But you got up early, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I went down to breakfast around seven, returned some books to the library, and I talked briefly with Dumbledore before coming up here to do some early studying.”

Harry shook his head, “You really have to relax about your studying, Hermione. Don’t overdo it.”

“I’m not. Trust me, Harry, I know what I can take. Third year�”that’s overdoing it. This…this is necessary. N.E.W.Ts are very important.”

“Thank Merlin we’re going off to Ireland today. You won’t be studying there, will you?”

Hermione shrugged, “No. That won’t take too long, anyway. We could be here by this afternoon, you know.”

“Ah, but Moody never does things the quick way,” Harry said, smirking, “We could he here by this evening, but I’ll bet we won’t be back for a few days.”

“Nonsense. He knows we have schoolwork to do. And he probably has other things to do,” Hermione said, a mildly shocked expression on her face. She took another bite of toast, chewing quietly, and looked up at Harry with a worried expression, “Oh, you don’t really think he’d do that, do you, Harry?” she asked, “I mean, we really do have to study…”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and turning to her. He set his piece of toast on his lap and extended his hand to her chin, tilting it up so she was looking into his eyes. With a small grin, he said, “You must relax. Do you hear me, Hermione? No books. No schoolwork. No more talk about that.”

”But Harry�”“

Harry held a finger to her lips, “Clear your head. Don’t think.”

“I can’t do that,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. After a moment, however, a sly smile spread across her lips, “But…I can think of something that can.”

Harry grinned, already knowing what she was going to say, “And that is?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Like you don’t know,” she whispered, leaning forward and kissing his lips tenderly. As they wrapped their arms around each other, their kiss took on a more passionate turn, any innocence it might have had before gone. Harry moved his right hand to cup the back of Hermione’s neck, pulling her even closer towards him, while she expertly moved her hands under his shirt, exploring the contours of his body. His free hand moved from her waist, across her back, and slowly under her shirt, a shiver going down his spine as his hand came in contact with her soft, warm skin. He gently leaned forward, so that they lied down on the couch, Hermione beneath him. As he did so, she uncrossed her legs from beneath her and twined them with his, sending a whirlwind of sensations through his body. As his hand slowly traced her skin, making its way up to her chest, she moaned softly, moving a hand up to his hair and another to wrap around him.

Needless to say, Hermione’s mind was more than clear. She didn’t recognize anything other than the person that was now kissing her heatedly, his touch on her skin both passionate and tender. Nothing else seemed more right than this…nothing in the world. No happiness in the world could surpass this feeling…the electricity going through her body…the sensations that his lips on hers provoked…the intense emotions that ruled her body and mind…

She didn’t really notice when she slipped off her shirt, with the help of Harry. Or when she unbuttoned his and threw it in a heap on the floor. Or when Harry began kissing down her neck, under her chin and even lower…lower than he would have normally, with her shirt on.

It was as if they really had stopped thinking.

It all happened at once. She suddenly noticed how her skirt had ridden up to her hips, and the mildly confused expression on Harry’s face as he noted that she had stopped moving her hands. She suddenly realized they were in the Common Room, and how lucky they had been that no one had barged in on them. And most of all, she suddenly realized the owl perched on the windowsill, a fine lavender envelope tied to its leg.

She felt the color rising to her cheeks. What Harry must think of her for doing this in both broad daylight and a public�”very public�”place! She released him and covered her face with her hands for a moment, before sliding off the couch and quietly slipping her shirt on. As she finished buttoning it, she hurried to untie the letter from no other than her mother from the owl’s leg.

Harry remained on the couch, as if frozen in place, silently replaying what had just transpired. Hermione had let him take off her shirt. She’d taken his shirt off.

Wait, what?

They’d almost really made love? They’d never taken off their clothes�”other than their robes�”while kissing. Never. And once he thought about it, their snogging hadn’t ever been so fiery…passionate. So hungry for the other’s touch. So completely and utterly…mind-blowing. He really had barely thought, and obviously, the same had happened to Hermione. They had managed to get so caught up in each other, that they got further than they ever had�”and clearly, further than Hermione would have wanted to.

Bugger.

She’s upset. The look she had before she covered her eyes…Merlin, what did we do? I thought she was okay with all of it…she was, after all, the one who began unbuttoning her blouse.

But maybe she just got caught up. In her better judgment she wouldn’t have done that.

Now what do I do? I don’t want her to feel bad about this.

As Harry finished buttoning up his shirt, Hermione turned, holding a letter in fancy stationary in her hand, face streaked with tears. She sniffed quietly, walking towards him and handing him the letter to read. Harry’s eyes zoomed thorough the letter in a matter of minutes, his brow creasing as he read the last bit.

“She sent this by owl.”

Hermione sat down on a chair, wiping away her tears, “I know.”

“She said she’d send it by Order method.”

“Yes…” Hermione mumbled, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“But she sent it by owl. Even when she said that someone from the Order was entering the house as she wrote this,” Harry insisted, frowning.

“Maybe they said it was okay to owl.”

“Maybe. But what if Voldemort’s followers knew about their move? That wouldn’t be safe. The Order wouldn’t have said it was fine to send by owl.”

Hermione finally met his eyes, a stubborn look on her face, “Maybe it was just dad coming from work and she decided to send it by owl, since she didn’t know when the Order would be there,” she hissed, eyes narrowing.

“Wouldn’t she have fixed it in the letter?”

Hermione’s nostrils flared, “What are you implying? That my mum has somehow been attacked, when Order members are patrolling by the house day and night?” she asked scornfully, fists clenching. Harry wasn’t sure why she appeared to be so angry, but he had a fleeting suspicion she was taking out all her mingled emotions on him.

So he nodded, conceding her this argument and deciding to leave his suspicions for a time when she was less stressed, “Oh, yeah…you’re right.”

“Do you think our relationship is based on lust?”

Harry’s head shot up, eyes wide, “What?” he sputtered, noting that her expression was nonchalant, though worried, as though they were discussing the possibility of a storm.

“You heard me.”

Harry realized she wasn’t joking. She really was worried about this, “Hermione, of course not. You know I love you…I always have. From the first day I saw you on the train, seven years ago, I felt something different, though I didn’t quite recognize it at the time. I knew you were…different, somehow. I admire you…the way you are. The way you stand up for what you believe in, the way you care for people despite the way they usually act…the way you have always been there for me, and have supported me in a way Ron was never able to. With you I feel like I can say anything, like there’s no secrets between us…I trust you, like I have never trusted anyone. I love the way you are always so rational, always full of answers, always dependable, and always willing to help anyone. My love for you runs deeper than anything else in this world, Hermione, and don’t ever forget that. I will always love you, as I do now, as I always have.”

Hermione seemed to consider this. Her eyes, which had been narrowed and guarded while Harry spoke, seemed to lose their hardness. The edges softened as tears surfaced, her expression changing to reveal a painfully weak side of her. She shook her head, wiping the tears away again, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you that. I know it isn’t, and I know you love me. This is so…frustrating!”

Harry resisted the urge to take her into his arms, knowing that she might not want to, given what had just happened, “Your mum admitted it wasn’t, didn’t she? Why are you asking me that?”

Hermione shrugged, inclining her head forward to gaze at her knees instead of Harry, “I don’t know. I guess I just…I got carried away there, and then I read my mum’s letter…and I felt like…like maybe she was right after all. I know she isn’t, but it was just what came to my mind then…”

“Of course she isn’t. I love you, Hermione. I really don’t know how else to reassure you about this. It’s the truth,” Harry said quietly, “I see you in a way that is much beyond lust, Hermione, and I know you see me the same way, as well. Otherwise, this never would have worked out from the start, believe me. I don’t think you would have put up with me if you didn’t feel something deep.”

Hermione looked up at him slowly, giving him a weak smile, “Oh, Harry…I couldn’t think of anything better than being with you…don’t say it as if were a burden,” she whispered, sliding off the chair and walking towards him. She knelt before him, pulling him into a tight hug, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

Odd, how time could go so fast. Minutes ago they had been kissing like there was no tomorrow, and now they were hugging, comforting each other with their presence.

As Hermione pulled away, she sighed, “Come on, then. We’re to meet with them out on the Grounds.”

Harry frowned, “We’re not using Floo powder?”

Hermione shook her head, frowning, “No, and we can’t Apparate, either. I don’t know how they plan on getting us there, really.”

“Looks like we’ll be traveling for a few days, then.”

“I hope not,” said Hermione, a dark look on her face, “It’s not safe at all. And I have to study.”

Harry laughed. Odd, how things were so awkward between them in some aspects, and they could carry on a normal conversation like nothing was happening. Odd, how she could detach herself from the things that she wanted to keep hidden, and managed to talk normally, like no time had passed since they had been eating toast.

Odd. Good, some might say, because they would eventually learn to ignore those silly things. But that could also make things more difficult. How were they going to get past their problems if they couldn’t even talk about them?

---

10:15 a.m., Friday morning, The Entrance Hall

“What did you do with the bags?” Harry asked suddenly, frowning and turning to Hermione with a bemused expression.

She smirked, “I shrunk them. I don’t think anyone needs to know we’re leaving just yet. And besides, they’re easier to carry that way,” she said smugly, tapping a pocket in her robes, where two small little lumps laid.

“Oh,” Harry said, nodding and craning his head to look around, “Look, there’s Dumbledore,” he whispered, walking towards the old man quickly. Hermione followed without comment, arms crossed as she walked slowly behind him.

“Ah, yes, I have been waiting for you,” Dumbledore said as they reached him. He smiled kindly, nodding, and leant forward, “They are waiting out by the gates. Couldn’t risk bringing them inside, after all. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Splendid. You should be there very soon. The matter should not take long, therefore your return might be as quick as tomorrow,” he beamed at them, before lowering his voice slightly, “You must be careful. Take care of each other and always stay within your Guard’s line of vision. Terrible things can happen in the blink of an eye, and in these times…” he said, his voice trailing away, as if he thought better of what he had been about to say.

There was a moment of silence, before Dumbledore clapped his hands and smiled again, “Well, then, off you go! I will see you when you get back. If any problems should arise, Alastor will know how to contact me,” they nodded quietly, watching as Dumbledore disappeared up the Grand Staircase. Harry glanced sideways at Hermione, who gave him a weak smile as she turned towards the doors. He returned it with a smile of his own, however half-hearted it as, and followed her outside.

It was a beautiful day; the sun blazing, clear sky, the grass a bright green. The lake’s waters looked as serene as ever, small ripples traveling across its surface. They walked in silence along the path towards the gates, Hermione looking somewhere in front of her feet and Harry glancing uneasily at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, stopping abruptly. Her voice was low and hushed, and Harry knew she had been dwelling non-stop about what had happened.

He sighed, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hermione.”

“I am overreacting over nothing,” she said stubbornly, “And I’m sorry about that.”

“If we hadn’t stopped…if we’d…would that have been what you wanted?” Harry asked quietly, “That’s all I need to know.”

Hermione looked up at him, mildly shocked. She seemed to consider his words, “I…I don’t know. I didn’t think about anything right then. I suppose my body…but…I don’t know what I want,” she said slowly, sighing.

Harry nodded, “That’s fine, then. Don’t worry. For now, we’ll just stop whenever things get too carried away, like we always have.”

“Yes…I think that’s best,” she said quietly, smiling weakly.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, holding hands, each lost in their thoughts. They gazed absentmindedly at the grass, not really seeing it, not really seeing anything, so lost in their worries. Lost in their wishes that things weren’t so complicated all the time, that things could just be normal, like they always were between them.

Had they ever been normal, though?

Neither could answer that question.

---

A/N: This chapter is really more of a filler, I suppose, until I get their trip sorted. Still, the plot kind of shows…doesn’t it? =) Oh, and that line that said: "He who strives to touch a star often stumbles upon a single straw" is straight from the movie A Knight's Tale. Not mine. So, till the next!

Chapter Nineteen: The Good and The Bad

6:53 p.m., Sunday, March 24th, Limerick, Ireland

“Alright then, five minutes to go!”

Harry sighed in relief. Moody had made them circle the north of Scotland, take some drastic turns over the sea to shake off any people that might be following them, and then made them fly high above the clouds bordering Ireland. He was drenched, rather hungry, and for the first time in his life, tired of riding a broom.

But then, two days of traveling could do that to a person.

Hermione, who sat in a broom Tonks had lent her, had her hands clenched tightly about the handle. Her face white, hair flying behind her, and her robes completely soaked from the rain, she wore a look of mingled fear and annoyance, and refused to meet anyone’s eye, even Harry’s.

Their trip, so far, hadn’t really been that bad. Despite the fact that they had spent the night flying, sustained on coffee and several charms to keep them awake, it had almost been enjoyable. For Harry, anyway. Hermione was having a very miserable time indeed, both from the fact that she didn’t have her books to study with and sleep deprivation. Everyone knew by now that it was better to avoid talking to her, as she would probably not reply, or glare at whoever had spoken.

In front of them, Tonks took an enormous dive through the clouds, while Moody kept barking orders from behind them. They followed Tonks, Harry keeping an anxious eye on Hermione, and were glad to see the distant land below them. They sped downwards, anxious to get off their brooms already and have a decent meal…Tonks arguing with Moody that they were not going to double back again…Hermione sighing and gripping her broom even tighter, sparing a half-glance at Harry…Harry attempting to smile encouragingly at her, but managing something more along the lines of a grimace….

And finally, they arrived.

They landed, Hermione jumping off her broom in such a hurry that she tumbled to the ground. She uttered a small, slightly maniacal laugh and leant back, feeling the cold, wet grass on her skin, savoring the fact that they were finally off those horrid brooms.

Harry laughed as he saw her, dismounted his own broom, and hurried over to her, holding his hand out for her to grasp. She tangled his fingers with his, and he pulled her forward, so that she came to a standing position. She smiled at him, for the first time in two days, and Harry felt his stomach do a flip-flop.

“Well, come on, now!” Moody barked from behind them, speaking to the group at large, “We’re already late as it is, so there’s no time to waste. The house isn’t too far now�”“

“Err…couldn’t we just Apparate there?” asked Harry.

Moody turned his eyes on him, looking slightly annoyed, “I told you; Apparating to a place you’ve never seen is much harder. You could splinch yourself, or end up somewhere completely different, neither of which we want to happen, right? Good, so let’s go…”

Lupin walked over to Harry and Hermione, a benevolent look on his face, “Don’t worry, Harry, it’s not too far from here. It shouldn’t take long.”

Harry nodded, and they began to walk. They had landed in a clearing off the south coast of Ireland, presumably to avoid being spotted, and were now headed towards Mr. Dupont’s house. From what he’d been told, Harry could assume he didn’t live too far from where they were�”the man was very antisocial, and tended to prefer living away from the noise and bustle of the city. He was very old�”though not older than Dumbledore�”and dedicated his days to perfecting more protective amulets, which he refrained from selling nowadays.

Now that they were actually here, Harry felt a strange sense of foreboding he had not yet experienced. It was surreal�”they had been traveling for two days, surely that might have been enough time for him to ponder on this, but it only occurred to him now that coming might not have been such a great idea. He couldn’t explain why, exactly, but he just felt as if they shouldn’t have come; as if something bad was happening and they were too thick to realize it.

Feeling helpless, he stole a glance at Hermione, squeezing her hand tighter in his. It suddenly dawned on him that although her temper had been a telltale sign that she had been having a dreadful time, she hadn’t once uttered a word of complaint. She hadn’t once spoken to him about how she hated flying, or how she didn’t quite like the coffee, or…actually, she hadn’t spoken to him throughout the whole trip.

His spirits seemed to plummet as he remembered the terms on which they’d left Hogwarts. They had gone just a bit farther than they meant to, and suddenly everything seemed to have changed between them. They felt uncomfortable around each other, she wouldn’t meet his eye, and they just hadn’t spoken to each other. This particular fact was the one that made Harry feel lost, as if Hermione had suddenly fallen way beyond his reach, and he couldn’t bring her back. He felt as if, in a moment of passion and irrationality, they had done something mortally wrong, though he couldn’t place what. He couldn’t understand why Hermione was going to such lengths, when she seemed so very willing to let him kiss her and touch her back then. He didn’t understand why she was doing this…why she was keeping this unbreakable silence between them, this wall that could never be broken, all because they had gotten carried away for a moment.

What, what did she want from him? What did she want him to do? He couldn’t feel sorry for what they did, for, in his eyes, neither he nor her had done anything wrong. They hadn’t actually crossed the line. They hadn’t…gone a step further.

And more importantly�”she had let him. She had been the one to start it all, she had been the one to touch him and let her hands wander to where they shouldn’t be, first. She had been the one that brought it all on!

But maybe…maybe that’s why she’s upset. Does she feel ashamed?

It dawned on him that, being Hermione, that was exactly what was bothering her. She wasn’t used to this, was she? He strongly doubted whether she had ever gone farther than kissing with any other bloke.

Being Hermione…she would feel embarrassed that she wanted that…she would feel uncomfortable knowing that her body wanted her to do those things; that her body responded so obviously to his touch. She would feel embarrassed that it was not only her body that felt that way, but she, consciously, wanted it too.

Being Hermione, she was probably dwelling on that to no extent. Being Hermione, she would have probably resolved that not talking to him was the best decision for now.

And him, being Harry, was now determined to show her that she was wrong.

He was disappointed to know, however, that that would have to wait. They were here for the pendant, and however much he wanted to sort out his problems with Hermione, he knew that the pendant was more important for now.

So for now, he contended himself to squeezing Hermione’s hand even tighter, and hoping that things would get better between them very, very soon.

***

“Well, those are definitely the most powerful wards I’ve seen, Mad-Eye,” said Lupin, frowning and gazing up at the sky, as if it might give them an answer, “We’ll have a hard time getting through.”

Tonks looked at the grounds of the castle thoughtfully, “The wards probably extend over the house as well, so flying’s out. No use trying to Apparate, either�”he’d have thought of that.”

“We’ll just have to find a way to break it. Unless you fancy tunneling in?”

Harry sighed, squinting at the castle in the distance. Between them and the house stood an enormous lake, a maze, and the wards. It resembled something along the lines of an obstacle course, as if he were measuring his guests’ nerve and general worth by their ability to get through his tasks. Or perhaps the obstacles were merely a means to weed out unworthy guests. Whatever the reason was, it did not cease to annoy Hermione further, he noted. She had her arms crossed at her chest, and stood beside Lupin and Tonks, giving out suggestions once in a while, the brisk manner in which she spoke making it obvious that she did not have much patience left.

Harry himself was not feeling very happy about this obstacle course. If that man knew the conditions they’d have to travel in�”and just to see him! All the way from Scotland, just to see him about a pendant.

And this was what they got?

Hermione seemed to give up helping after a while. She gave a small sigh and walked away, coming to stand about four feet away from Harry and frowning at the wards. She stood that way for a very long time, her arms crossed at her chest, staring up at an invisible point between the sky and the castle’s grounds…the wind blowing at her hair…her eyes narrowed thoughtfully…

“I know what to do.”

Her words were quiet, but triumphant. A slow smile spread across her lips, and her eyes were suddenly filled with obvious satisfaction. She looked at Harry fleetingly, that smile lighting up her features, and Harry thought, for a moment, that all was fine, that she would lock her arms around his neck and joyfully explain what she had discovered.

But a second later, she turned away and sprinted over to Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and the rest of their guard, without even glancing back at Harry. He watched her clear her throat, watched as she gestured with her hands at the ward, watched as she explained what she knew…he could only watch, feeling so far away from her, never understanding what in the world had come over her. Why? Why did she hand him this stony silence?

Tonks was nodding emphatically, while Elphias Doge stood by her side, listening intently to Hermione. Moody seemed to be giving her a look of mingled admiration and understanding, while Lupin listened with a small smile on his lips, as if he’d known all along that she would figure it out.

Their voices slowly died, and before he knew what they were even planning on doing, all four of them moved to stand before the ward, pointing their wands at it. They spoke quickly, saying an incantation Harry found vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it, and a rupture suddenly began to form at the ward. A large hole gaped before them, wide and tall enough for even Hagrid to walk through. Lupin turned, beckoning Harry and Hermione towards the hole, and they hastened to walk through.

As soon as they were all inside, the breach in the ward disappeared, leaving no trace that they had done anything to it. Before Harry could even ask what they had done, or what kind of ward that was, they ushered him towards the maze entrance.

Tall, thick hedges�”very much like the ones in the Triwizard Tournament maze�”casted towering shadows before them. There was but a gap before them, and whatever laid beyond it was completely immersed in darkness. Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him, and he suddenly felt very apprehensive to go in. It couldn’t just be a maze…there had to be creatures inside…creatures that could hurt Hermione…

“Err…can we Apparate now?”

It was not Moody who spoke, but Lupin, “I don’t think so…we can try, but I assume, if he has planned this all out so well, that there is an Anti-Apparition Jinx set inside these wards.”

Harry didn’t bother arguing. He just followed Moody inside the maze, keeping a close eye on Hermione, and wondering what lay ahead.

But, as they ventured inside the maze, and weaved through the dark passages, they found nothing to harm them. They walked quietly, always ready, but nothing came. This seemed to increase the tension, somehow, and instead of relaxing, they felt more apprehensive. They walked closely together, keeping a close eye on whoever was next to them, and wondered why they hadn’t encountered anything. Why were they being allowed safe passage through a maze that was so simple in itself? Surely they should have encountered something by now…

The silence was deafening, but not one of them ventured to break it. They walked in stony silence, following Moody, and it was not until they had walked for forty minutes, that they saw a figure blocking their way through.

Harry recognized it immediately as a sphinx. It had the body of a very large lion, enormous clawed paws and a long, swishing tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, though, was that of a woman. It stared at them calmly, her eyes unblinking, waiting until they were at a reasonable distance from her before speaking.

“You near the end of the maze. I stand between you and the exit,” she said smoothly, calmly pacing from side to side of the path, “You must answer my riddle correctly. If you do, I will grant you safe passage to the exit. Should you not be correct, I will attack. If you do not answer, I will allow you to go back unharmed.”

The group glanced between them uncomfortably, and the adults huddled to discuss the matter fleetingly. They muttered in low voices, glancing at Harry and Hermione from time to time, before nodding and stepping back. Lupin looked at the sphinx, and said, his voice level, “Could we have the riddle, then?”

The sphinx nodded, coming to a halt and facing them.

“From the beginning of eternity
To the end of time and space
To the beginning of every end
And the end of every place.
What am I?”

Silence greeted her words. Harry could tell Hermione was thinking quickly, her eyes narrowed, nails digging into her palms. The adults were going through the words in their heads as well, wearing expressions of mild confusion and exasperation. Harry felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, wondering whether they would end up dueling the sphinx. Whenever he tried to find an answer to the riddle, the words seemed to fade away in his head, leaving him with nothing but an extremely vague idea of what the riddle said.

Twice he asked the sphinx to repeat the riddle. The creature obliged calmly, her almond-shaped eyes unblinking and serene.

From the beginning of eternity…end of time and space…what in the world did those things have to do with each other, anyway? Beginning of every end and the end of every place…his brain seemed jammed, either unable or unwilling to process the information. He felt as if a thick fog kept clouding his mind…

The adults and Hermione were huddled together discussing it. Harry walked closer and joined in, but they seemed to be as confused as he was. Not one of them seemed to have an idea of what the answer could be; even Hermione wore a look of intense frustration and bewilderment. Harry wished he could help her…he wished he could wipe away that sullen expression from her face and make her happy…he wished he could say something to her…

As he turned to the sphinx to ask it to repeat the riddle again, Hermione suggested they write it down. Elphias Doge conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, and copied it down as the sphinx recited the riddle yet again.

Staring at it in paper did no good for Harry, but it somehow seemed to soothe Hermione to be able to read something. He could almost see the gears in her brain working…turning as they fought to find the answer…

And when she spoke, he fought off a very large impulse to gather her in his arms and just hold her very, very tightly. This was his Hermione, the logical, rational one that always knew what to do. He loved her, for being the way she was, for knowing the answer, for her logical instincts…

“It’s the letter ‘e’” she said, keeping her voice low enough so that the sphinx didn’t hear her, but they did.

Lupin looked at her sharply, “Are you sure?”

She nodded, “The first line�”‘from the beginning of eternity’. It refers to eternity as a word, not as a thing, and eternity starts with the letter ‘e’. ‘To the end of time and space’�”both words end with ‘e’. And the last two lines: ‘To the beginning of every end and the end of every place’�”in ‘every end’, both words start with ‘e’, and in 'every place', the last letter is ‘e’.”

The group stared at her in awe, before Moody said, rather gruffly, “You’re a very clever witch for your age.”

Hermione smiled proudly, and walked towards the sphinx with an air of mingled determination and slight fear. She looked straight into the creature’s eyes, and said, in a clear voice, “The letter ‘e’.”

The sphinx held her gaze for a moment, smiling, before sinking into a bow. She then stretched her front paws, and moved aside to let them pass. The group moved passed through rather hastily, all beaming and praising Hermione. Harry was the last to pass, and he waited patiently until everyone was done speaking with Hermione, before walking towards her and tapping her shoulder. She turned, her smile still broad and proud, her eyes immediately finding his. He smiled at her.

“You’re amazing, Hermione, you know that?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked away from him momentarily, before looking back at him and saying, with a timid sort of grin, “You too, Harry,” she gathered her hands in his, held them tightly for a few moments, before letting go and turning away from him. She looked back once, still smiling, before walking over to the edge of the lake and peering at the castle.

“Imagine that. It seems as though we have visitors!”

A voice spoke suddenly, loud and booming. They looked around sharply, expecting to find the person somewhere along the trees, but they did not. It was Harry who saw the old man in silk burgundy robes, staring at them from a balcony high up in the castle. He was tall, and thin, with short curly white hair. He looked down at them with an expression of mild surprise and curiosity, twirling a fine silver chain around his fingers.

“There!” Harry said, pointing at him.

The man looked straight at Harry, “And odd, too…you look very much like James Potter. You are Harry Potter, I presume?”

Harry nodded quietly, not knowing what to say. He glanced around at Moody and the rest of the guard, wanting them to continue talking, but they merely continued to stare up at the man with unreadable expressions.

“Well, then, what business do you seek with Fabrice Dupont?” he asked, frowning.

Lupin stepped forward, “It’s about one of your protective amulets. The one James asked you to make for Lily? About…seventeen years ago?”

The man nodded, “Yes…well, you’ll be lucky is Fabrice does indeed agree to speak to you. I am afraid he has grown quite reclusive at his old age�”more than he ever was.”

“You’re not Fabrice?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “No, I am his brother. Let me conjure a bridge for you…and I trust Fabrice will be down to greet you shortly.”

They nodded quietly, and waited. Harry crossed his arms at his chest, gazing at the grass below his feet…thinking…what if Fabrice couldn’t help them? What if the pendant simply couldn’t be fixed? Had they come all the way here for nothing?

And surely, if Dumbledore had even bothered sending them here, it was because the amulet was important on some ground. Could it help him fight Voldemort? Harry seriously doubted whether a pendant would do much difference against him…it honestly looked very fragile�”any mild curse could surely break it. And then…? What would they do? He had hardly trained…well, he had trained during the holidays, but it wasn’t enough.

But, Harry reasoned, will training really do much difference? Either he could fight him off or not. There wasn’t really much he could learn at this point apart from evasion techniques. He knew all the spells he thought he needed, except…well, the Avada Kedavra. But that wasn’t a question of practice, either. It was power. Either he had what it took or not…and only then would they know. He certainly wasn’t going to practice the spell on anything.

There was a loud clanging sound, and as Harry looked up, he dived away in shock. A large, long and very solid-looking bridge had suddenly materialized itself in midair between them and the castle. He could see Fabrice’s brother lowering it slowly with his wand, until it fell with a splash on the lake, splattering them all with water and causing large waves to form. Moody swore silently, drying himself and the rest of them, before beckoning them towards the bridge.

When they reached the entrance to the castle, Fabrice’s brother bowed, and led them inside. Their castle was immense�”it looked even bigger than Hogwarts�”and extremely elegant. The floor was of a shiny wood, while the walls varied in color depending on the room. Enormous chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, and almost all of the furnishings bore an emblem of a very elaborate ‘D’, embroidered in small golden stones that glinted in the firelight. The curtains were drawn back on all of the windows, revealing an exquisite view of the grounds and the city that laid beyond.

As they entered one of the living rooms, Fabrice’s brother turned to them and beckoned them to sit, “He will be down soon�”I suspect he’s getting ready. I’ll go inform the house-elves that they are to bring you something to eat, shall I? Excuse me…”

And with that, he walked away, disappearing down a staircase.

Harry stole a glance at Hermione, who was sitting next to him, and leaned forward to whisper, in a very low voice, “Anything that reminds you of?”

“S.P.E.W.,” she said, pursing her lips in the direction of the staircase, “I wonder how many they have trapped in here. The nerve, honestly! I bet they make them clean the whole house by themselves…oh, I wish I could help those poor elves…”

“Thought that was it,” said Harry, smiling.

She turned her attention to him fully, locking her eyes on him, “Listen Harry…I’m really sorry for not talking to you since we left Hogwarts. That was really horrible of me…I just�”“

“No, Hermione, it’s okay. I kind of figured out why you did it and�”“

“Welcome!”

Harry turned his neck so fast he could have sworn he broke something. Standing in the doorway was a tall, spindly old man, with sleek gray hair that reached his shoulders. He wore fine pale green robes that were several inches too short for him, and surveyed them with an expression of mingled dislike and curiosity.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all�”my name is Fabrice Dupont,” he said, his smile never reaching his cold eyes.

Lupin made to step forward, but Moody was faster. He cleared his throat and said, in a slightly threatening tone, “My name is Alastor Moody…this is Remus Lupin…Nymphadora Tonks…Elphias Doge…” ha paused for a second, before pointing towards Harry and Hermione, “And these here are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”

Fabrice’s gaze remained cool as ever, but at the mention of Harry’s name he whirled to face him, his eyebrows so high they were barely visible, “Harry Potter? Well, this certainly is an odd assortment of guests I have here today…” he said softly, peering at Harry. His gaze, though nothing close to welcoming, was less colder, and his frame seemed less tense, “And to what do I owe this visit?” he added, recovering from the shock and looking back at Moody.

As Moody explained everything about the pendant, Harry let his mind wander. He was sitting so close to Hermione…it was incredible how pleasant she still smelled, despite two days of merciless traveling. Her eyes were trained on Fabrice, slightly narrowed in mistrust, and she was sitting unusually straight, her frame rigid. Harry was tempted to wrap his arm around her, but he fought off the impulse. He knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable, snuggling in front of all those adults, and in a house they had barely stepped foot in.

Fabrice reminded Harry of Karkaroff, for some reason. Maybe it was the hypocrisy in his smiles, and the coldness of his pale eyes, but he couldn’t shake off the image.

It wasn’t long before all eyes were on him, though. He suspected the conversation had ended a bit of a while ago, and they had clearly asked him something.

“Err…what?”

Fabrice seemed to fight off an impulse to roll his eyes, “The pendant. May I have a look at it?”

“Oh�”yeah,” said Harry hastily, fumbling for the pendant, which was safely around his neck. He took it off, handing it to Fabrice carefully.

Fabrice pulled out a monocle from his robes and examined the pendant through it. He made a lot of annoying noises, such as slight gasps, or mumbles to himself. After ten minutes or so passed, a small cluster of house-elves peeked timidly around the corner, carrying a tray of food for them. They looked completely frightened, though Harry supposed that was more due to the presence of strangers rather than anything else. Hermione, however, didn’t think so, and he had to restrain her from trying to talk to them as they placed the tray on a small table. As they hurried back to the kitchens, Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and refusing to eat anything.

Finally, Fabrice pocketed the monocle and looked up at them, “It is specific, yes, but not as Albus suspected. It should respond to young Potter. Amulets specific to people are made with their blood, and if I’m not mistaken, there are two blood crystals here,” he paused, scrunching his face as if to remember something, “I’m very sure James came with both Lily and her son when he asked it to be made…and I very much doubt he asked it to be specific to him and Lily�”if ever a man was noble it was James.”

When no one spoke, he sighed, “It is also specific to a certain situation�”mortal peril. It has a phoenix core, and that specific type of blood crystal used…yes; it is definitely specific to mortal peril. If the bearer�”in this case, Harry�”were not in any mortal danger, the pendant would not react.”

Just as Moody opened his mouth to speak, Fabrice held up a hand to silence him, “There is more, I’m afraid…since it has been buried under dust and debris for such a long time, its magic is somewhat…well, weakened. It would take me a day, at the least, to correctly mend it. It this is fine with you, I can�”and will, of course�”offer you a place to stay, as well as food and drink.”

Moody and the rest of the adults huddled together for a moment, discussing whether or not it would be safe to stay. Harry distinctly heard Moody say, in a low, growling tone, “I don’t trust him. We don’t know if it’s safe here, anyway.”

But Tonks shook her head dismissively, “Oh, you don’t trust anyone, Mad-Eye. We didn’t come here for nothing! And if Albus sent us here, it’s because he trusts this Dupont. I think it’s worth it.”

That seemed to close the matter. Moody nodded, looking disgruntled, and Lupin addressed Fabrice, “That would be excellent. It’s no trouble for you, though, right?”

Fabrice shook his head, “Of course not! I’ll just send a few of the house-elves to get your rooms ready, shall I? Oh�”would you like a tour of the house as well? Of course you would, wait just one minute…excuse me.”

He exited the room, and Harry heard him calling for someone. In a few minutes, a diminutive house-elf entered the room, wearing a broad smile that contrasted greatly with his frightened eyes. In bright, squeaky tones that forcibly reminded Harry of Dobby and Winky, she beckoned them to follow.

***

6:02 a.m., Monday morning, Fabrice Dupont’s castle �“ Limerick, Ireland

Harry awoke with a jolt. He had cold sweat all over him, and he was very, very thirsty for some reason. He couldn’t remember very well that he had been dreaming, but he could still feel the anxiousness, the distress that had taken over him. He sat up in his bed, running a hand through his hair and sighing. It was no use trying to remember what the dream had been about. He only remembered it having to do with someone he cared very much about.

Feeling no real impulse to go back to sleep, he pulled on his dressing gown and glassed, wandering instead out of his room. He decided he would venture down to the kitchens and have something to eat, or merely just take a stroll around the house.

He did not go far, however, before he heard them talking.

Moody was speaking, his breathing slightly ragged, as if he had run there, “…I got it less than a minute ago. Voldemort’s lot has attacked the Ministry. Most of the Order’s there right now, fighting them off, but it’s useless. He’s got all sorts of foul creatures working for him, and an incredible number of Death Eaters. The Ministry’s lost.”

Harry froze. Had he heard correctly? Pressing himself to the wall and praying that Moody’s eye didn’t stray in his direction, he began to listen intently.

Lupin’s hoarse voice spoke next, “What? But how could this happen? We’ve only been away for three days, and suddenly everything’s falling apart?”

“Yes, well, never mind that. What do we do with Potter and Granger? We can’t send them back to Hogwarts�”that’s probably his next target. The students are going to be sent away to their homes soon, too, possibly after Easter break.”

There was a momentary silence, before Tonks spoke, “They’ll have to go to Headquarters, won’t they? The Weasleys will be arriving there soon, anyway, after the whole mess breaks out…it’s probably the safest place there is now.”

Harry’s body felt numb. He could barely breathe…it was really happening. After all this time, it was all finally happening, and it would all lead up to his due with Voldemort. The one that would decide everything…the future of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds…the lives of every single person…it would all be decided by that one duel, that was incredibly close now.

“Should go now, or should we wait a few hours?”

“Now. Go wake Potter and Granger, Remus. Tonks�”go inform Dupont that we’re leaving. Don’t tell him why. Remember to take the pendant. Elphias, help me get our things.”

Harry quickly disentangled his legs and backed away from the wall, cautious not to make a sound. When he was sure he could sprint back to his room, he turned and made to run, but quickly collided with someone. He bumped heads with whoever it was, stumbling backwards, biting back a cry of pain.

“Ouch! Harry, be careful!”

“Hermione? What’re you doing here?”

“The same thing you are. C’mon, we’d better get back to our rooms,” she grabbed hold of his wrist and steered him up a flight of stairs, almost flying back to their rooms. Harry could barely breathe.

“Did…did you hear everything?”

They had reached his room. Harry’s eyes met hers, and in the faint light, he could make out the small, pearly tears clinging to her eyelashes. Her lower lip trembled, and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

“Oh, Harry…” she said softly, sobbing, “What are we going to do? It’s all happening…it really is…”

Harry wrapped her arms around her, silent. He stroked her hair and patted her back for a few moments, until he heard footsteps coming towards them. He pulled away, wiping her tears from her cheeks with the tip of his finger and kissing her quickly. He tried to look strong, to look as though nothing of this made him feel the least bit nervous about what might happen. He really tried…but in the end, he only managed to give her a weak smile, kissing her lips softly once more. She looked up at him, feeling desolated, worried. She held his gaze for a moment, before pulling away and slinking back to her own room, beside his.

They couldn’t help it. As they both sank back into their beds and pretended to be asleep, they couldn’t help the tears that fell down their cheeks.

Tears of desperation. Of fear. Of worry…for everything, for each other, for all those people that were in danger…

They couldn’t help wishing that none of his were happening.

***

They arrived at Grimmauld Place ten minutes later, by Apparition.

Harry couldn’t help it. The memories of Sirius came flooding back into his mind. He had been here after it all happened, yes, but somehow, he just couldn’t get over it. He couldn’t just step foot into his house and not remember his godfather.

How could he do this?

He didn’t have Sirius, he didn’t have Ron…he only had Hermione, and while he may love her very much, and confide in her…he needed his friend, and he needed his godfather. He couldn’t do this without them.

He hated that he hadn’t made up with Ron. He hated that, no matter what he did, Sirius couldn’t be there.

He needed them.

As their guard walked into the kitchen to have an impromptu Order meeting, they began to walk up the flights of stairs to their rooms. Along the way, however, Harry lost any will to keep walking, and sat down on the steps, staring at his feet…wondering…

What was he going to do? He couldn’t do this…he couldn’t just kill the most powerful dark wizard of all time, just like that…

He knew there was still a bit of time to go before the inevitable came, but…he couldn’t help thinking about it. The attack on the Ministry had pushed all rational thought out of his mind, all security and happiness he might have possessed, and left him only with worries…weak, defeated.

Hermione sat down next to him. She didn’t speak. She just wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder, crying silently. The only sound he could hear were her choked sobs…

“I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She shook her head, not looking up at him, “Don’t be sorry, Harry. You’ve done nothing wrong,” her voice was muffled, and she seemed to cry harder at Harry’s words.

“I just am. I hate myself for bringing you into this.”

She pulled away from him, looking at him straight in the eye, “I would have been here, anyway, Harry. I’ve always been your friend,” she paused, as if considering her words, “and so has Ron. He still is, Harry…he’ll be here for you soon.”

And with that, she leant her head back on his shoulder and uttered not another word.

They stayed like that for a long, long time…waiting. Waiting until the Weasleys and the rest of the Order arrived…waiting to see if things would worsen or not…

Harry pondered Hermione’s words carefully. He’d never thought his friendship with Ron had ended like that, but he couldn’t deny he hadn’t been worried. Ron had so diligently went about his days without speaking, or even looking at them, after all, that he couldn’t help but think that Ron was no longer his friend. He certainly didn’t want their friendship to be over, especially for a matter of who got Hermione or not.

He really didn’t care how it happened; he just wanted his friend back.

Hours later, as he stared up at the ceiling of his bed, he wished, with all the strength he could muster, that Ron would arrive the next day. He needed to talk to him. They couldn’t let it end like this.

***

4:35 p.m., Monday afternoon, Grimmauld Place �“ London

Ron and his family arrived that afternoon.

It was a very hard thing to do, going up to Ron and just saying he was sorry, but he would do it. He didn’t care if Ron should be the one to apologize, or him. He really didn’t care who should go first. He would go ahead and do it, because he knew that Ron would take an age to finally say it, and he honestly couldn’t wait that long.

As Fred, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked into the kitchen to talk to the rest of the Order members that were present, Harry asked Ginny is he, Ron and Hermione could have a moment alone to talk.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging, “I’ll just go up to the room Hermione and I always share.”

Ginny sprinted up the stairs, and Harry waited until she had shut the door quietly behind her, before turning to Ron.

Ron had been silent ever since he had seen Harry. He knew it was time to let it all go. And he was ready, sort of. He knew Harry was facing something much worse, and compared to his own stupid feelings, that was much more important. He knew that Harry and Hermione loved each other�”in a way Hermione had never loved him. He didn’t know if he would ever feel for someone like that…he’d always thought he had felt that way for Hermione, but maybe…maybe he was wrong. He didn’t know anymore. Nothing really made sense.

The only thing he knew was that he had to be strong about this, for Harry.

For his best friend.

“Ron,” said Harry, looking straight at him.

“I know,” he said, “I’m sorry, too.”

Harry looked as if he wanted to say more, but Ron cut him off, “Listen Harry…we should just get to the point. I know what you’re going to say and, well…I already know that. You’re my best mate, and I could never stop being friends with you because you did what…what was right. You and Hermione…you’re meant to be like that. I was just…wrong. And I’m sorry for being such a prat about it for so long. I really am, mate. I wish I could take back all the stuff I said…I was such a prat,” he finished, looking down at his feet as he remembered all the cruel things he’d said to his friends.

Had he really said that? Had he really been so immature about things?

Sure, they shouldn’t have gone behind his back like that, and they shouldn’t have lied…but everyone made mistakes. If he had been in the same situation, he might’ve ended up doing the same thing, after all.

And they were friends…they always had been…it wasn’t worth ending their friendship over something as trivial as that.

Harry nodded, and a stony silence settled between them. Hermione cleared her throat, and Ron looked at her, slightly apprehensively.

“Ron…I…I’m really sorry. I know I hurt you so much…I didn’t think about the things I did and said, and I behaved like such an idiot…” she said softly, tears welling in her eyes, “It was all my fault…every single thing that happened…I should have handled things better…I really hate that I said such things to you. You’re my friend, no matter how much we fight and disagree, and you mean a lot to me. You’re like a brother to me…I really can’t believe how I acted towards you. I know that things between us might not be the same for a while, and I am really sorry, Ron…I truly am,” tears were sliding down her cheeks now, and she was sobbing quietly, barely holding herself together.

“Oh…Hermione, c’mon…don’t cry like that…”

Ron walked forward and pulled Hermione into a clumsy hug. He held her for a moment, making soothing sounds and patting her head.

When she pulled away, her eyes were still red and puffy, and her face was tearstained, but she seemed to be holding herself differently now. Harry couldn’t quite explain it, but she looked calmer, more composed than before.

“So…are we…?”

Ron looked at him and smiled, for the first time in a very long time, “Friends?” he said, and chuckled, “’Course, mate.”

Harry smiled back, and Hermione looked between the two of them before collapsing into more tears, though these were mostly due to the fact that she was glad to have things back to normal between them. She pulled them both into a hug, smiling, and Harry distinctly heard her say, in a low voice, that she was glad to have them both back.

And he found himself agreeing, full heartedly.


A/N: Sorry for the holdup, guys! I really don't know why I didn't write this earlier.

And I'm really sorry for not replying to all your reviews...the login problems make it almost impossible. =( Just know that I read them all, and that they mean a lot to me. Thanks so much to all of you!

This is the penultimate chapter, by the way. Keep a lookout for the last chapter this week, too--it'll be here before /hbp, you mark my words. =)

Oh yeah--check out my one-shots! There's a H/Hr one, 'Lips and Reason' that I *know* you'll enjoy, and a D/G, 'Cold' that I think you'll like, too.

Cheers! Till the next!

Chapter Twenty: It All Comes Down to This

***

I'm frightened by what I see
But somehow I know
That there's much more to come
Immobilized by my fear
And soon to be
Blinded by tears
I can stop the pain
If I will it all away

***

Although he now counted with the support of both Ron and Hermione, things seemed to get steadily more complicated for Harry. He was forever faced with the prospect of a duel with Voldemort, a mortal duel he couldn’t avoid, no matter what he did. He was faced with the choice of becoming a murderer to rid the Wizarding World of the Dark Lord, or allowing himself to be beaten, killed, shattering the hopes of witches and wizards everywhere, and giving The Dark Lord free reign to do as he pleased with the world. He was forever feeling guilty for all the deaths that surfaced, day by day. He wanted to go and get it all over with, fight Voldemort and just end it all, once and for all, but the Order and Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it. They seemed dead-set on delaying the inevitable, just for a few weeks of training, a few weeks of worries and preparation.

He wanted it all to end. He couldn’t take any more of this…he couldn’t bear to know that so many people he knew, so many people he had talked to, had died. He couldn’t bear to hear as the Order members said, in hollow voices, how many innocents had died.

It wasn’t fair. He was being kept in Grimmauld Place, trapped for his safety, while all those people were slowly dying, fighting…waiting for something to save them.

Waiting for him…and not knowing, until they held their last breath, trying to hold on to their lives, that he wouldn’t come to save them.

At least the people at Hogwarts are safe, he thought, remembering something Mrs. Weasley had said on the night they arrived. Apparently, Hogwarts was now being used to refuge the families of Hogwarts students, people who volunteered to help Dumbledore, and literally anyone else that asked for help. Most of the students and their families were there, along with quite a big number of witches and wizards. They all knew there was no place that was truly safe, but Dumbledore’s mere presence gave them hope. They knew that with him around, they had more of a chance to stay alive than if they were in their houses.

Danger was looming over the school, though. Dumbledore feared that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort moved in to take over it. He himself was still determinedly staying there, though, along with the staff, with every intention of protecting the school and the people inside it if the attack should come. Voldemort was attacking everywhere else, after all.

Of course, those other battles that were currently taking place at the Ministry were nothing but a clever attempt by Voldemort to build his army further, to weaken Dumbledore’s defenses, and perhaps find a breach in them.

The terrifying thing was, he was succeeding.

Blackmail, threats, and simple murders had been enough to sway hundreds to his side�”people that feared for their lives, or their loved one’s lives. People who were unable to see another way out, and allowed him to cast the Imperius curse upon them, or else willingly obeyed his orders.

People who were trapped in their fear, for to Lord Voldemort, fear was power. He used their fears against them, and that granted him an advantage over them. He used the fear he so easily instilled upon them, and brandished it to fit his plans.

That was not to say that Dumbledore was losing. He used cleverness as well, and protected those that hadn’t yet been corrupted against them. Many accepted his help, and didn’t offer any of their own, but it was enough that some did. It was enough that there was a brave witch or wizard, and that they stood up to fight against Voldemort.

And so the War had begun…

And Harry could only sit in the sidelines, watching, until something occurred that made him lose all rationality and respect for Dumbledore’s wishes. Something that threw him over the edge, unleashing a wave of daring recklessness that brought him to the conclusion that he had to take action.

Something happened, that he just couldn’t ignore.

***

Two weeks and four days later �“ 2:48 a.m., Friday, April 14th, Grimmauld Place, London

Harry awoke, yet again, to a nightmare. He was used to it, these days. Ever since he had been back at Grimmauld Place, they had been very hard to avoid. They were always about the same things…the same things that never ceased to torment him. Their faces…the blood shed…the shadows…those horrible eyes…they haunted his dreams, night by night.

Tonight, it had been about her. It had started off as a completely stupid dream of them walking around the lake, looking for Dobby’s socks. But somewhere along, everything had changed. The sky above them had grown dark, the lake’s waters had become completely still under a thin sheet of ice…the temperature dropped suddenly, immersing them in a wave of both fear and unbearable cold. Harry remembered his intense anxiety, knowing something bad was going to happen…knowing what was going to happen…

He had groped to his side, trying to find her…to hold her and keep her safe…but found nothing but air. He turned, eyes darting to find her, only to see her at the other side of the lake, kneeling at the edge, as if to touch the water. He called for her, told her it wasn’t safe, that they needed to go, but she hadn’t listened…

Slowly, a figure had begun to emerge behind her. Tall, thin, hidden under a black cloak. A long rod�”which Harry took to be a wand�”was poking from one of the sleeves, held by white, skeletal fingers. It drew closer and closer to her, gliding towards her…and Harry yelled, yelled with all his might for her to get away, but she remained oblivious to his shouts. He wanted to move; to help, but found himself unable to. He was glued to the spot, his heart pounding in his chest from mingled fear and distress…contained to watching as the figure reached her and lowered his hood, revealing a long, snake-like face, with bright, scarlet eyes that gleamed with malevolence…with seventeen years of hate and anger…

The Dark Lord looked up at him, his eyes finding his as his mouth stretched into an evil smile…and Harry’s scar seared with pain. He fell to his knees, yelling, eyes watering…and then it stopped.

When he looked up, he was met by the sight of Voldemort holding Hermione’s head, tilting it upwards, slicing what he had thought to be a wand across her exposed neck…a thin trail of blood began to emerge, dripping down her soft skin…and she fell forward.

He couldn’t bear it. He yelled, cried her name…felt the tears trickling down his cheeks as he watched her slowly die…fading away from existence…Voldemort’s maniacal laughter ringing in his ears…

Harry shook the memory away. He felt his cheeks damp, as if he really had been crying, and his throat exceptionally dry. He fumbled in the dark for his glasses, put them on, and poured himself a cup of water from the jug on the nightstand. He choked as the liquid trickled down his throat, which felt constricted, but forced himself to swallow.

For some reason, the details of the dream were fresh in his mind, not at all like most of his dreams, where he forgot most of what he had dreamed the moment he opened his eyes…but then, all his dreams about Hermione had been this way. He couldn’t let go of that horrible image…

He didn’t feel the glass slipping from his hand. It fell to the floor and shattered, spreading broken glass throughout the floor. He cursed silently, shuffling for his wand, until someone spoke to him.

“Harry? What’re you doing up so e-e-early?” Ron mumbled, half asleep, yawning widely as he spoke.

“Nothing. I was just thirsty,” Harry whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he added, finding his wand. He pointed it to the remains of the cup, muttered the Reparo charm, and watched as they all flew together, no harm done.

What he would give for everything to be that simple…

He heard someone moving in the dark, making out the vague outline of Ron sitting up on his bed and rubbing his eyes, before his friend spoke again, “You sure that’s all, Harry? You’ve been thirsty a lot these days…you haven’t been having any funny dreams, have you?”

Harry felt the impulse to say that no, he hadn’t had any dreams. That yes, everything was fine and he had no worries apart from the Final Battle. And it was tempting, to say it and delay this conversation for a time when he was feeling less shaken, but he didn’t. Something compelled him to tell Ron the truth, whether it was because he felt as if he should honor the fact that they were friends again, or because he really did want to talk about it.

“I…yeah, I have,” he said quietly, “I don’t think they’re visions, though…nightmares, more like.”

He couldn’t quite see Ron’s face well in the dark, but Harry thought he saw Ron’s expression go from curiosity to understanding, “You’re not the only one,” said Ron shakily, “Ever since the War broke out, I haven’t had a decent sleep. I can’t help it…I’m bloody scared, Harry…what if stuff doesn’t go as Dumbledore planned it to? What if…you know…”

“If one of us dies?” Harry supplied hollowly.

Ron made an odd face between a flinch and a grimace, “Y-yeah…I don’t want us to…I mean, I don’t want anyone to…”

Harry remained silent, not knowing how to reply to that. He regretted starting the conversation now�”he’d meant to confide his dreams to Ron, not talk about what would happen if one of them died. To be honest, he really, really didn’t want to think about that.

But then, he thought, my dream was about the same thing, wasn’t it? Only this time it was Hermione…but other times it’s been Ron…


“Listen, Harry…you know that…when the time for you and You-Know-Who to duel…you know we’ll be by your side right? Me and Hermione?” said Ron, speaking tentatively at first, though his voice gained strength as he continued speaking, “You won’t be alone, mate, I promise,”

Harry looked up, meeting his best friend’s eyes with a large feeling of dread. He felt his heart sinking, everything in his body going numb, as he realized that he would have to be alone if he wanted to protect his friends’ lives. If he wanted to protect Hermione’s life…

He would have to face him alone.

He didn’t know how to tell Ron this. What could he say to convince him? If Harry were in his position, after all, he would probably do anything to be by his friend’s side. No words in the world could persuade him not to.

So for now, he didn’t say a word, and sank back onto his pillows quietly, hoping Ron would let the matter drop. Hoping that for once, he’d understand without having everything explained to him…that he would comprehend why Harry didn’t say anything, and would just go back to sleep.

And to Harry’s surprise, Ron did as he hoped he would. He just leant back down on his pillows, silent…until his whisper broke the silence.

“You won’t be alone, Harry.”

***

5:22 a.m., same day; same place

It was early, but Hermione was already up. She was used to waking up early, even if today it hadn’t really been her choice. She couldn’t go back to sleep, for some reason, and she was slightly thankful for that. Lately not a night had passed in which she hadn’t had a nightmare. They were always about the same things�”deaths, battles�”and she always woke up with the same feeling of terror…of fear for what was soon to come.

She wanted it all to end, once and for all, but at the same time, she dreaded the time in which the War ended, for it could only end one way…

She didn’t want him to die. She couldn’t bear the thought. If he died, she would surely die as well…she could never live without him.

She smoothed out her hair, brushing a few stray strands from her face and sighing. Deciding that she would go eat some breakfast�”surely someone else had to be up by now�”she got up, wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and walked quietly out of the room.

She shivered, both from the slight morning chill and from the eeriness the house had. It was still dark, though not so much that she couldn’t see where she was going, and the silence was deafening. She felt as if someone were going to sneak up on her any moment…

Don’t be stupid, she told herself, there’s no one else walking around so early.

As she neared the landing, she began to hear the soft murmur of voices floating out of the kitchen. As she walked forward, she recognized the voices as being those of Dumbledore, Lupin and Moody. She quickened her pace, wanting to speak to Dumbledore, but stopped just short of the door as she caught what they were saying. She knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but something made her feel compelled to listen…

“…still haven’t found them, Albus. They reckon Voldemort got to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had…lately he has a way of getting things done…” that was Moody speaking, his voice low, tone grave.

“Shouldn’t we tell her? They are family…” Lupin said tentatively.

“No,” said Albus, “Not yet. She will be heartbroken, and none of us can imagine what she would do, let alone Harry. This should remain Order business, Remus, for as long as possible.”

“So we’ll continue searching for them, then?”

“Yes, every single place they could have gone to, if they left on their accord. I’ll as Severus if he knows anything, too; this might have been planned for months now if it is Voldemort’s doing…if he cannot help, then we shall have no choice…”

“We’ll have to go to Voldemort,” said Moody. It was more of a statement rather than a question.

“Albus…you don’t think…they are still alive, aren’t they? I mean, Muggles in Voldemort’s hands…” Lupin asked somberly. Hermione thought he meant to say more, but stopped himself.

“I hope so, Remus,” Dumbledore said hollowly, sighing.

There was silence, and a small pop, which probably meant that Dumbledore had been talking to them through the fire. Hermione stood outside the door, the gears in her mind frantically turning as she processed this information. She didn’t want to believe it…she didn’t want to think that they’d been talking about her parents…she really wanted to think it was someone else�”anyone.

But she couldn’t.

What other Muggles would Voldemort bother kidnapping, other than her parents? Even then, it sounded slightly ridiculous, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. He probably wanted to lure the Order and Harry to him by using them.

And they had talked about how a ‘she’ would be upset, and about how Harry might do something reckless.

Slowly, she sunk to her knees, leaning her head against the wall, careful to not make a sound. She analyzed what she heard, understood it, but somehow, she couldn’t believe it. Her parents just couldn’t have been taken by Voldemort. They couldn’t have.

And then she remembered her mother’s letter…

I probably shouldn’t have written that. This isn’t safe to owl now, is it? I think I’ll talk to one of Dumbledore’s lot to see if they can send it to you. They have safer methods, do they not?

Oh, I think that is them now. Someone’s entering through the front door. Odd people…didn’t they say they would not come until the day of our move? And they know better than to just come in through the front door. Honestly, anyone could see them. They always wear those odd robes, and one even has pink hair!

And what Harry had said after reading it…

“But she sent it by owl. Even when she said that someone from the Order was entering the house as she wrote this,” Harry insisted, frowning.

“Maybe they said it was okay to owl.”

“Maybe. But what if Voldemort’s followers knew about their move? That wouldn’t be safe. The Order wouldn’t have said it was fine to send by owl.”

“Maybe it was just dad coming from work and she decided to send it by owl, since she didn’t know when the Order would be there,” Hermione hissed, eyes narrowing.

“Wouldn’t she have fixed it in the letter?”

Hermione’s nostrils flared, “What are you implying? That my mum has somehow been attacked, when Order members are patrolling by the house day and night?” she asked scornfully, fists clenching.

She couldn’t stop herself. She gasped softly, breaking the heavy silence, placing a hand over her mouth delicately. She felt her eyes stinging, her breathing becoming heavy…she heard the scraping of chairs, indistinguishable muttering, and footsteps. As if in a dream, she came to her feet, tears sliding down her cold cheeks.

She ran up the stairs as fast as she could, willing herself not to look back.

***

8:56 a.m., Saturday morning, Grimmauld Place - London

“Hermione, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, a concerned look on her face, “Are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t even touched your breakfast!”

“Yes, I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione, careful to keep her voice normal, “I’m just…not very hungry.”

“Well…if you say so…” Molly said uncertainly, keeping a worried eye on her before turning to Ginny.

Harry and Ron both looked up from their plates, giving her questioning looks, but she shrugged them off. She pretended to eat a bit of toast, not really tasting the food…all the while thinking, calculating.

Ever since she’d heard Moody, Lupin and Dumbledore speaking the day before, she hadn’t stopped thinking once about her parents. They’d been brought into this, and were trapped there�”she willed herself not to consider the possibility that they might already be dead�”all alone, afraid, seeing no signs of help. At first, she’d fully intended to tell Harry and Ron, but she’d thought better of it. Harry would, as Dumbledore predicted, go berserk and intend on going to save them, falling straight for Voldemort’s trick.

And then she’d begun to think…what if she went to save them?

It was stupid, she knew. How could she stand a chance, after all? They were highly skilled Dark wizards, and she was a mere seventeen-year-old witch. They would kill her easily…

But what else could she do? Now that she knew, she couldn’t bear to know that the Order still hadn’t gone to save them. Were they blind? They could be being tortured…they could be on the brink of death…

She felt such despair. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to put Harry in danger, and she didn’t want her parents to be in danger. She couldn’t go herself because she would get killed, and she couldn’t confront Lupin or Moody about it, because that would be admitting she had eavesdropped on the conversation.

She couldn’t take this. She had to do something.

As she excused herself from the table, she cleared her throat quietly enough for only Ron and Harry to hear her. Giving them both significant looks, she turned and exited the kitchen, waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.

They came quickly, both looking slightly confused and worried.

“Hermione, what’s wrong�”?”

“�”you’ve been acting really weird�”“

“�”you sure you’re okay�”?“

“�”haven’t even opened a single book�”“

She waited until they stopped talking, crossing her arms and giving them a look. They fell silent, looking at her with slightly impatient, inquiring looks.

This is it. I might as well…oh please, don’t let Harry do something stupid. Please…don’t let him think it’s his responsibility…or his fault.

“Yesterday…I…” she said softly, and slowly began to recount what she heard. She watched as they went from shock, to disbelief, and to shock again. They never spoke, but their faces seemed to have their thoughts written all over them. Harry had that look about him, like he was plotting of ways to go save them, whereas Ron looked afraid, as if he’d realized that that could happen to his parents as well. Both, however, seemed to coincide on one thought, the one Hermione thanked them for, but really wished they didn’t think like that.

“We�”well, we have to go get them!” Ron sputtered, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m going, Hermione,” Harry said quietly, “We can’t leave them there. I don’t know what the Order’s playing at, but we have to save them.”

Hermione shook her head frantically, “Oh…I don’t�”you can’t go. No, listen to me!” she hissed, seeing them both opening their mouths to protest, “Odds are�”if my parents really are there�”he’s just using them to lure you to him, Harry. I can’t let you just go. And it’ll be dangerous. None of us should go!”

“We can’t risk it, Hermione! What if they really are there? They’re your parents!”

“We’ll have to wait, then! We’ll tell the Order!”

Ron gave her an incredulous look, “Hermione, come on. They’re your parents�”you’re not seriously considering leaving them in�”in You-Know-Who’s hands? You’d have to be mental!”

Hermione crossed her arms at her chest, feeling her eyes stinging, “You can’t honestly suggest that we go there and save them ourselves. If one of you got hurt…it would be my fault!” her voice wavered as she spoke, and she had an air of her that suggested she wasn’t so sure whether she wanted to go or not anymore, “I couldn’t…I couldn’t bear that, Ron.”

“Then we’ll have to confront the Order! Lupin! Lupin’s here�”we can just go and talk to him now!”

“No,” Hermione said firmly, her eyes now filled with tears. She looked down at her feet, “I can’t. I don’t know why I even told you two about this!”

There was silence, before Harry stepped forward hesitantly, and captured her chin with his hand. Forcing her to look up at him, he shook his head, “D’you want to know why you told us, Hermione? I’ll tell you why�”because you know we have to go save them. You know they’re there. And you know if we don’t go ourselves…they might not…survive,” he said bluntly, willing himself to ignore the tears leaking from her eyes now. She had to understand, “I know it’ll be dangerous. But if we keep waiting and postponing…there’ll only be more deaths, Hermione. More innocent people�”dead,” he released her chin and took a step back, fixing her with a pained, but determined stare.

Hermione wiped her tears away before looking back at them. She sniffed softly, suppressing a sob, and met Harry’s eyes. She blinked once, looking at Ron, then back at Harry, and sighing.

“What if I was wrong? What if they weren’t talking about my parents?”

“But what if you’re not wrong? You know you can’t risk that!”

Hermione bit her lip, a few tears running down her cheeks. After what seemed like an age, she heaved a sigh and said, in a dejected whisper, “We’ll never get there undetected. Either the Order or the Death Eaters will find us.”

“Are we really going to take on the Death Eaters by ourselves, mate?” Ron asked suddenly, frowning, “I mean, they’re hundreds…how…?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said truthfully, and, for the first time, Hermione saw doubt in his eyes, “But we’ll find a way. We have all day to think.”

“We’re leaving tonight?”

“Yeah,” Harry said firmly, “We can’t wait any longer.”

“No, Harry,” Hermione said, “We’ll leave when we have a plan formed. We can’t go bursting around the place without no real idea of what to do. We’ll get killed for sure.”

“But Hermione, we can’t�”“

“We have to, Harry,” Hermione said, her voice slightly hollow, “If we’re really going to do this, then at least we’ll do it properly.”

“We’re going tonight, Hermione. I don’t care if you think we’re ready or not. If you want to stay, fine, but I’m not going to.”

Harry gave her an unreadable look. It was a mixture of pain, determination, and fear, yet there was something else thrown into the mix that Hermione couldn’t recognize. She held his heated gaze for a long time, not really noticing the tears that had rapidly begun to slide down her cheeks, or the way she was clenching her fists so tightly closed, that they had gone numb.

She shut her eyes closed tightly for a moment, sobbed, and turned on her heel, walking swiftly towards her room. Ron made to follow her, but Harry stopped him, shaking his head. She just needed time. She knew they had to do what Harry said.

Ron turned to Harry, frowning, “Is it just me, or does she not really understand the fact that these are her parents we’re talking about? I mean, what the bloody hell is she playing at?”

Harry met his gaze, feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, “I don’t want either of you to go. It’s me he wants…if I just went and got it over with tonight�”“

“No way, Harry. If you go, we go. They’re her parents, and you’re my friend. D’you think we’ll just sit here patiently, knowing you’re risking your neck out there?” he shook his head, “And it’s more than that. It’s just…the way it’s meant to happen. We can’t let you do this alone.”

“Ron�”“

“We’re going, Harry. Drop it. I think we ought to be more worried about how we’ll get past those Death Eaters.”

Harry remained silent…thinking…and then it hit him.

Get past those Death Eaters.

He met Ron’s eyes, and said, very quietly, “I think I just figured out how.”

***

11:02 a.m., same day, same place

After going through his plan several times, not explaining anything to Ron and not mentioning a thing to Hermione, Harry concluded that it was basically the most sensible and likely-to-succeed thing they could do. It was certainly better than bursting into the Ministry and demanding to see Hermione’s parents.

That was not to say that there wasn’t a danger of getting caught. There was. If any of them made a noise…if one of the Death Eaters had a way of sensing their presence…

There were so many things that could make the plan fail. So many things that Hermione would probably point out to him when he explained it to her…

But he seriously doubted whether there was anything else hey could do that had a better chance of succeeding.

It was so simple…

So easy…

Almost too easy…

But it would have to do.

Feeling Mrs. Weasley’s eyes on him, he took another bite of food. After a few minutes, he got up, excusing himself, and shot Ron a look. He walked calmly out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his legs guiding him to Hermione’s room without much effort. As he faced the door, he heaved a sigh, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He pushed the door open, poking his head in. He caught sight of a very distressed-looking Hermione, twisting her hands nervously on her lap as she sat stiffly at the foot of her bed. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, her face streaked with tears, and sobbed loudly.

“Oh Harry�”“ she said, her voice thick, “Lupin’s just told me…it’s true�”they’ve really been taken! I-I don’t know what to do…”

He rushed towards her, enveloping her in his arms, patting her head and making soft soothing noises. After she had stopped sobbing repeatedly and seemed at least a bit calmer, he said, very quietly, “I think we should go tonight.”

“I know, Harry…but I’m just so afraid! What if you or Ron gets hurt? What if they’re already…what will I do?” she said softly, nails digging into the front of Harry’s shirt rather painfully.

“They won’t be. We’ll get them out, safe and sound, and none of us will get hurt,” Harry said firmly.

“How?”

There was a brief knock on the door, before Ron came in. His eyes found them quickly, and Harry felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was odd to explain why�”Ron said he understood now, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong�”but somehow, he still felt as if he should let go of Hermione. He felt as if he was cheeking Ron by letting him see them like this. It was incredible that such a thought could come to his mind, when there were so many other important things to be worrying about.

It was stupid…but he couldn’t stop himself from loosening his grip on Hermione, looking rather guilty. And, maybe he imagined it, but Hermione’s frame seemed to stiffen, and she moved, ever so slowly away from him, until his arms fell limply on the bed.

Ron seemed to have noticed the way he held her, too, though his expression seemed inscrutable to Harry. He couldn’t tell whether he was upset or angry, or whether he looked upon them with a sort of bitter acceptance.

But it was just for a split second. Then they seemed to remember the reason for Hermione’s crying, and Harry’s plan, and everything else that was going on.

“So, are you ready to explain?” Ron asked, sitting across from them, on Ginny’s bed. Hermione edged way from Harry a bit further, looking at him expectantly. Her expression, though still pained, held a sort of cold determination, and Harry had the fleeting impression that no matter what he said, she would agree, desperate to save her parents.

“Yeah. It’s really simple, and I think it’s the only�”“

“Harry! Ron! Hermione!”

Ginny’s voice called their names, and they could hear the loud thumps on the stairs as she raced towards their rooms. She seemed to check the boys’ room first, before bursting through Hermione’s door, looking terrified.

“Gin! Are you mad? Wake up all the portraits in the house, you will! What’s wrong with you?” Ron blurted out, frowning.

“Ginny, are you okay?” Hermione asked concernedly, moving as if to get up from the bed.

Ginny sighed heavily, closing her eyes for a moment, before saying, in a hollow tone, “Hogwarts. It’s been attacked. You-Know-Who himself has gone there this time, along with the Death Eaters. Most of the Order’s there, helping Dumbledore and all those people…” her voice trailed away as she let out a noise between a sob and a sigh.

Ron leapt up from the bed and embraced his sister in a comforting hug, giving Harry and Hermione a wide-eyed look, as if asking whether they were still going to do it.

Hermione’s hand had shot up to her mouth, and she was staring, transfixed, at Ginny, though she wasn’t really seeing her. She was wrapped up in her own shock, in her own feelings of anguish and hopelessness.

Harry was staring at Ron’s shoes. He was barely breathing, barely holding himself together. He was afraid. The realization that this was probably the time for the Final Battle hit him like a kick in the chest. He couldn’t believe it had come so fast, that so quickly, the time had come and he had to battle Voldemort.

It wasn’t fear of the battle, exactly. He knew that when the time came he would face Voldemort with cold determination. It was more of a fear for what the outcome might be. It all depended on him. All those lives, including Hermione’s, depended on him.

He felt slightly sick. Could he do this? Did he have the power to do it?

“What…what about us, Ginny?”

After a few moments, Ginny pulled away from Ron to look at Harry, tears in her eyes, and said, “We’re staying here, as far as I know. Mum will look after us, and I think they mentioned Lupin…I really don’t know�”by the time they started discussing that I rushed out to tell you three.”

There was a pause�”then…

“But you’re not staying, are you, Harry?”

Harry looked at her, shocked, “What�”?”

She gave a small, rather empty chuckle, “Oh, Harry, I may not know you as well as Ron and Hermione…but I know you well enough to know you’re not staying here while that battle’s raging back at Hogwarts.”

Harry just stared at her, and before he could even manage a coherent response to her, she kind of half-shrugged and left the room silently.

Ron met his eyes. He felt Hermione’s stare on him.

“Tonight?” he asked, not really knowing what else to say.

They nodded, “Tonight.”

***

11:37 p.m., same day; Outskirts of Hogsmade

Hermione cast Disillusionment charms on them quietly, muttering something about ‘extra precautions’, and a heavy silence fell. They looked at each other shakily, only too aware of the yells and flashes of light that were perceivable, even in the distance. They were only too aware of the fact that they were finally here. This was it. Their future depended on this night, on the faithful duel�”on Harry, and they were all too aware of this fact.

Harry tried his best to not look up. He couldn’t see them really, but he could imagine them vividly, remember the expressions they had worn not more than a few minutes ago...but Hermione’s soft touch on his cheek and Ron’s incoherent mumblings made him look up anyway. He could see them, almost, Hermione, with silent tears in her eyes, Ron, pale and shaking slightly.

He didn’t know whether they intended on him speaking or not. He felt that he would throw up if he opened his mouth, though, and so opted to keep quiet.

Then Hermione leaned forward, her hand pressing against his jaw as she searched for him. She locked her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer to her in a tight hug. Harry wondered, miserably, if they would get to do this after tonight. He wrapped his arms around Hermione, already knowing the curves of her body by heart, and held her tightly, burying his face in her hair…

She moved her head, and he supposed she was looking at him, considering whether or not to kiss him. In the end, he was very pleasantly surprised to feel her lips press against his nose. She laughed softly, before lowering her lips to his.

He kissed her passionately, knowing this might very well be the last time he got to do this. He tried to tell her, through the kiss, how much he felt…how much he loved her, but ended up pulling away and whispering, under his breath,

“I love you Hermione…with all my heart…and soul…always…” he wanted to say more. He felt like he should say more. But the words seemed to get caught up in his throat, and all he could manage was that.

“I love you too, Harry. I always will,” she whispered, sighing, “Always…”

As she pulled away, Harry wondered whether Ron had heard them or not. He supposed he was deep in thought, and Harry couldn’t blame him. He himself felt apprehensive at the thought of the battle

“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Ron said suddenly, his voice low, “It seems so…unreal.”

“I wish it weren’t real,” Harry said darkly, turning to look at Hogwarts.

“We all do, mate…”

There was yet another silence, before Hermione sighed, “Come on. No sense in delaying it…and we have to save my parents. Voldemort will have brought them. I suppose he’ll be planning on threatening Dumbledore with them, or…”

Whatever else she thought Voldemort was planning, Harry didn’t know. Her voice trailed away and he head the swishing of her robes as she began running towards the school, without so much as an explanation.

“Come on,” he said to Ron, and they both began running.

He didn’t know whether or not she was near them or not. He abstained from calling her name, in case someone heard, and hoped she had sense enough to wait for them before going into the castle’s grounds.

Just as they neared the gate, he heard a whisper a few feet before him, “Stop, Harry. I’m here.”

He turned, “Ron, she’s here.”

He heard the running behind him stop, and a mutter from Hermione’s direction before she came into view. As she lifted the curse off him and Ron, Harry turned to them and said, “I think that for this to work, you and Ron should go help your parents.”

“Harry, no. You’re not fighting him alone!” Hermione said instantly, and Harry caught the hidden message behind her words.

The Prophecy.

“This has to end quickly, Hermione. If I go with you two, it might be too late for everything. And I can be a distraction. Everyone will be focused on me.”

“No, Harry,” Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry began to walk away from them, taking a few steps backwards. He reached inside his pocket, drew out a small lump, and tapped it. His Invisibility Cloak came into view, and he hastened to drape it over himself.

“Harry, please! No!”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and slipped through the gates to the grounds.

It was only then that he realized the yells had ceased. The grounds were deathly quiet, and he could discern a pile of crumpled bodies at the distance, though he couldn’t tell whether they were Death Eaters or not. The smell of smoke filled the air, as several trees from the Forbidden Forest lad been set on fire, and it was rapidly spreading across the rest of the trees near them. The grass was damp with rain, mud, and blood, making it look darker, and slightly threatening to Harry, as if it were a warning of what was to come. The castle itself looked older to him, and as he came closer, he could make out the blast marks, and the bloodstains on it.

Was this really Hogwarts?

He walked along the grounds towards the castle, careful to keep his walk steady and silent. Even if he was in visible, if he were heard, chaos would surely ensure, and it would do no one any good if it happened outside. Ron and Hermione needed the coast clear so that they could sneak inside properly, too.

He felt as if he were in a dream as he walked inside. The doors had been torn down, and were nowhere to be seen. The floor was dusty and bloody, and there were bodies everywhere. He willed himself not to look at any of the faces. He didn’t want to know who had died…if it was someone he knew…

Other than the dead bodies, the Entrance Hall was completely deserted. He had to walk extremely quietly around there, to avoid the echo of his footsteps.

He was just about to head towards the stairs, when he caught sight of the door to the Great Hall. It was ajar, half of the door blasted off. He could see just a hint of what laid beyond…and voices. There were voices…if he could just edge closer to it, he might be able to…

“Ah, Potter…we were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

He froze, feeling the wand pressed to the back of his head. He saw figures emerging out of thin air, all around him, all smirking and looking extremely smug. A hand grasped the cloak from behind him, pulling it off, and he found himself completely open to attack, without anyone to help him, at the hands of half a dozen Death Eaters.

He heard retreating footsteps behind him, and looked just in time to see Bellatrix Lestrange’s sneering face, partly obscured beneath the hood of her robes.

“You�”!”

“Me,” she said, the merest trace of a laugh in her voice, “And you, little baby Potter, are desperately outnumbered.”

“So he’s just sending you to kill me, is he? Can’t do it himself, can he?” Harry said, unable to stop the first thing that came to his mind from pouring out of his mouth.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, and a few of the Death eaters around them grunted and hissed threats at him. Harry looked at them with what he hoped to be a brave face, narrowing his eyes as well.

“The Dark Lord, Potter, is currently sorting out that fool Dumbledore. He shall be here soon enough. Until then,” she said, smiling nastily, “we can do with you anything we want.”

Harry’s hand was halfway to his wand, when in the distance, a voice spoke.

“We do hope we’re not interrupting.”

Harry whipped his head towards the stairs. At the landing stood, looking completely determined, Luna Lovegood, Colin and Dennis Creevy, Ernie Macmillan, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, along with a large cluster of sixth-years Harry didn’t know, and most of the DA.

Bellatrix and the Death Eaters stared up at them, apparently caught off guard. Harry heard someone mutter, in a low voice, “Of course…the castle is no doubt being used as a shelter. That’s why they were guarding it,” he paused, “But where are the rest of them?”

Harry took advantage of the confusion, and took out his wand quietly. Pointing it in Bellatrix’s direction, he cried, “Stupefy!”

As soon as he had spoken, the hall erupted with noise and movement. Harry’s friends charged down the stairs, shooting curses in every direction, narrowly missing each other as they did so. The Death Eaters, all of whom had had their wands ready as well, began shooting incantations in Harry’s direction. Harry ducked; Bellatrix conjured a shield, while the Invisibility Cloak slid from her grasp. Harry lunged for it, but was met instead with a hard kick to the side of his face from Bellatrix. He fell backwards, eyes watering, his face searing with pain, and it was only a second before she caught him with the Cruciatus.

Every single inch of him exploded in pain. It was in his bones, in his blood…every breath he took increased the pain, every second he yelled sent another wave through his body…his body twitched and writhed on the floor, shaking. His wand fell from his grasp...it looked so far away…if only he could reach it, he might be able to retaliate…

It seemed to never go away…he was going mad…he could hear Bellatrix laughing maliciously, hissing things at him…he could see the flashes from the curses that were going all around…hear his friends as they tried to get to him, yelling instructions at each other, fighting against the Death Eaters…

He couldn’t take it much longer…he was going insane…he wanted to die, for it to end already…he didn’t care anymore…

And then it stopped. Harry lay on the floor, gasping, still twitching. The noise around him seemed to increase by ten as he raised his head to look, and everything was blurry. He could see Bellatrix struggling with someone on the floor; apparently they had thrown themselves at her to stop her. He had a funny taste in his mouth…something was trickling down his nose…he raised his hand to it, wiped it off carelessly, vaguely noting the red tinge in his fingers as being blood.

He summoned his wand. No one seemed to realize he was getting up. The Death Eaters were under attack, and, though they certainly weren’t much of a match for them, the students outnumbered them by many. Bellatrix was still rolling around on the floor…their wands were thrown beside them. If he could just get up, he could help them…

He raised his wand, pointing at them. It was hard to get a good aim when his vision was still blurry, and the two people were wearing black robes, but he took a chance. Wincing, he said hoarsely, “Impedimenta!”

At first, nothing happened. He figured the Cruciatus curse had weakened him, but tried again, feeling slightly desperate.

The second time, a feeble ray of light erupted from his wand, before it began to gather strength from somewhere deep inside him. With a massive effort, he managed to stay on his knees as the spell became stronger and shot towards the two, prying them apart and throwing them back twenty feet. As they began to come to their feet, Harry caught sight of the plump, round face of Neville Longbottom, screwed up in mingled pain and concentration, eyes locked on Bellatrix.

But before he could register this thought, someone caught him from behind. They bound him in ropes, causing him to lose his balance and fall flat on his face. He heard jeers behind him, and footsteps approaching him. He rolled on his back, finding the towering figure of a Death Eater heading towards him. A mask hid his face, but Harry could make out the cold, gray eyes…

“Potter. How…convenient that I should be the one to get rid of you.”

No. It couldn’t be. Malfoy? He was a Death Eater? What…?

Malfoy seemed to notice the look on his face, and chuckled nastily, sliding off his mask and throwing it aside. Harry stared back at him in shock, watching as he brandished his wand menacingly, as if trying to decide what curse to use on him. As Malfoy pointed his wand at him, Harry managed to open his mouth and sputter, “Coward.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and darted towards Harry’s, before he smiled and said, in a malevolent whisper, “You know what, Potty? You’re right,” he stepped back several feet, waving his wand at Harry. The robes binding him disappeared, and he looked at Malfoy in shock.

“You fancy a duel, then? Fine. Get up,” Malfoy called to him, his eyes shining maliciously.

Harry came to his feet shakily, wiping the blood from his nose with his sleeve and pointing his wand at Malfoy. In a split second, Malfoy had already moved and sent a jet of black light in Harry’s direction. Harry casted the Protego Auctus shield, and watched, amazed, as the jet of light did not reverberate from the shield, but continued to press on it. A hissing sound began to fill the air, and Harry continued watching, feeling only slightly worried, as the spell began to create a hole in the shield.

Harry cursed under his breath, and did the only sensible thing that came to mind. He jumped aside, just as the spell was about to cut through the shield, and grimaced as he heard someone behind him yell in pain. He turned his eyes on Malfoy, teeth bared, trying to think quickly of a curse to use against him.’

But, apparently, Malfoy had this all planned out. Grinning, he waved his wand, and yelled, “Tagliare!”

Harry didn’t move, though. He uttered the first spell that came to mind, “Flamora!”

The two beams of light met in mid air and ricocheted off in different directions. Harry’s spell shot towards the door to the Great hall, setting what was left of it on fire, and Malfoy’s hit another Death Eater, who yelled in pain, clutching his upper arm.

Harry took advantage of the momentary confusion and pointed his wand at Malfoy, “Impedimenta!”

Malfoy was thrown back into a wall. He slumped to the floor, remained there for a few moments, and began to get up. His head had fallen over his face, though Harry could make out the flush that had appeared there, and the death glare he was receiving. He saw Malfoy summon his wand, and, before he could do anything, a jet of green light burst from his wand and pelted towards him.

Harry felt it before the spell even managed to reach him. His breathing became more forced, as if someone were snatching it right from him…he began to feel weak, and rather sleepy…what he would give to curl down on the floor right then and close his eyes…his brain seemed to shut off completely, and he just stood there, waiting…he felt all happiness wash away from him…he was left with an intense feeling of despair, as if he would never ever be happy again, and found himself wishing, for the second time that night, that he were dead…

But just as the curse was mere feet away from him, a light seemed to turn on in his brain. His breath came back to him, and he felt an inexplicable surge of energy and strength. He saw Ron and Hermione’s faces, smiling at him, and they gave him confidence. A light erupted around him; surrounding him…he was raised a few inches of the floor…the pendant was gleaming under his robes…

The curse simply disappeared, without a trace. Malfoy looked at him, mouth open in utter shock, and made to curse him again, but Harry already knew what to do. Flicking his wand at him, he muttered, “Stupefy!”

No light erupted from his wand, and yet, as he squinted at Malfoy, he could see him slumped against the wall, head inclined towards his chest, obviously unconscious.

Harry was slowly lowered to the ground. He turned, seeing all of the Death eaters engaged in heated duels. He felt a pang in his chest as he saw so many of his classmates unconscious, thrown on the floor. Some seemed unharmed, while others were bleeding heavily, clearly injured. He felt a surge of anger inside him as he watched them. They weren’t supposed to be in this battle. They were at Hogwarts for their safety!

He couldn’t stop himself from feeling thankful, though; had they not shown up, he would have had to take on all those Death Eaters by himself.

But I had the pendant. It reacted to Malfoy’s Killing Curse like that, so it would have probably saved me from them anyway, he reminded himself, feeling guilty now. It was his fault that they were there. His fault that some of them wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. His fault that they were injured…

It was all his fault.

No.

It was Voldemort’s.

Everything that happened in his life, everything that was happening now�”it was because of Voldemort. And he, Harry, shouldn’t be blaming himself. He should go after him. End this now, before more died. End it now, before he went mad…

And so, he turned towards the doors to the Great Hall. With a wave of his wand, the fire was gone, its ashes being the only proof that it had ever been there. He walked slowly towards it, careful to avoid catching someone’s unwanted attention, and slipped through the doors.

His scar prickled painfully…a chill ran down his spine…

The hall was brightly illuminated, and looked completely unharmed. Everything looked spotless, gleaming, just as it had looked the last time Harry had been in it, though with a few noticeable changes.

Ron was gagged and tied at the far left corner of the hall, while Hermione was on the far right, in the same condition. Death Eaters stood on either sides of him, faces hidden by masks. The house tables had been vanished, probably destroyed, and only one piece of furniture remained. Dumbledore’s high backed chair was placed in the middle of the room, its back to Harry. He could just see the top of the person’s head, though he already knew who it was. Who else would it be?

No one spoke. Hermione kept making noises, as if trying to speak to him, but nothing she said was distinguishable. Harry glanced at the Death Eaters on either side on him uncertainly, wondering why they weren’t attacking him, or at least saying something.

He began to walk forward, uncertain. He neared the chair, wondering why no one was stopping him. He stretched his hand forward, grasping the edge of the chair, bracing himself for his scar’s outburst, but found that it didn’t hurt at all. It continued hurting in the same way it had since he entered the room.

This must be some sort of trick, he thought, What’s going on?

He moved around the chair, willing himself not to look just yet until he was right in front of it. He opened his eyes, and he felt all the air vanish from his lungs. His legs went numb, his heart was racing…

Dumbledore was sitting in the chair, blood pouring from the side of his head. His face was blackened with soot and dried blood, and his glasses were broken. His arms were twisted violently in odd angles, as if they were broken, and his legs…they looked as if they had been hit with a very, very dark spell. Harry felt sick. The skin was slowly degenerating before his eyes…

He began shaking his head, “No…” he muttered, “No, this can’t be…” his eyes were locked on Dumbledore, and he seemed unable to look away. He couldn’t believe it. It had to be a trick. It just had to be. Dumbledore couldn’t be dead.

Hermione made the loudest muffled noise yet, fighting with the ropes that binded her. Harry turned to look at her, eyes widened, as if asking her whether it was true. Her eyes were wide, fearful, and filled with tears, and she shook her head, mumbling something.

The Death Eater nearest to her looked at her menacingly, and pointed his wand at her. A ray of red light hit her and her head slumped forward, unconscious.

Harry felt an urge to go and throttle the Death Eater who did that. Indeed, he was about to move, when Ron yelled behind him, in a clear voice, “H-rry! W-tch out!”

Harry whipped his head around in time to see the towering figure of Lord Voldemort heading towards him, wand at the ready. There was a mutter, and a jet of light shot towards Harry. He jumped to his left, crouching behind the chair, and watched, in awe, as the scenery around him changed drastically. The floor beneath him developed cracks and turned into a dull grayish color, while the walls were suddenly darkened by blast marks and bloodstains. The fire in the torches was extinguished, and the chair in front of him disappeared. More than half of the Death Eaters vanished, leaving two, which were guarding Ron and Hermione.

Voldemort looked down on him, a cruel smile playing across his thin lips, “We meet again then, Harry Potter…it shall be a pleasure to finally rid myself of your troublesome existence.”

“Where’s Dumbledore? What have you done to him?”

“Did you not see him just a few moments before, Harry?” Voldemort asked, a definite note of cruel smugness in his voice.

“That�”that wasn’t true. He’s not. He�”he isn’t...”

“Your Mudblooded friend had the pleasure of witnessing it all. A shame, really, since she won’t be able to tell you about it.”

There was a pause, in which Harry stood up, narrowing his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides, still holding his wand. Voldemort stared back at him, that smirk still there, clearly enjoying the way Harry had reacted to his words. Their eyes never left each other, scarlet boring into green. Hate radiated from them both, as they stepped backwards, allowing a distance of twenty feet between them. They raised their wands, knowing what they should do.

“It is time, Harry, for this to be finished,” Voldemort said softly, “I have waited long enough.”

“I’ve suffered long enough. I won’t be seeing you.”

Voldemort laughed sardonically, raising his wand and flicking it at the ground. There was a loud rumbling sound, and the floor began to tremble. Harry distantly heard the shrieks from the Entrance Hall, Ron’s surprised gasp, Voldemort’s laughter…

An invisible force burst through the ground and shot towards Harry, sending chunks of the floor flying in different directions as it did so.

It moved too quickly. As soon as it hit Harry, he was lifted off his feet and thrown, very painfully, into the small space of wall over the entrance to the Great Hall. His head seared with pain, and he slipped…he was heading towards the floor…the was going to fall…

But Harry’s hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed hold of the edge. He vaguely noted the glow of the pendant, and smiled triumphantly. His gaze wandered to Ron, who was lying unconscious, his face slightly bloody, and frowned. The he looked at Hermione, the memory of the prophecy coming back to him, and, with his free hand, brandished his wand, pointed it towards her, and muttered, “Enervate.”

Voldemort didn’t bother turning to see what he had done. He merely smiled even more widely, flicking his wand over his back, in Hermione’s direction. The robes around her disappeared, and the cloth that had been used to gag her was gone. Her hand shot for her wand, which the Death eater had been holding loosely at his side, and made a quick job of Stunning him.

Harry watched Voldemort turn with unease. He wished he could let go of the edge�”he had to help Hermione�”but his hand seemed glued to it. Every time he tried to let go, the pendant glowed and his hand gripped the edge tighter.

Voldemort waved his wand at Hermione, who had been watching him, transfixed, and she was levitated up in the air. He moved to a spot in the middle of the Hall, and lifted the Levitation Charm, watching her as she fell to the ground. His eyes shot up towards the spot where Harry was, and he smiled maliciously, “It seems you are opposed to this being a duel between us, Potter,” he said softly, twirling his wand between his fingers, “Apparently, I will have to dispose of this filth in order to rid myself of you.”

Harry began moving frantically, trying to pry his hand from the edge. He cursed loudly, hissing at the pendant, “You stupid thing! I need to help her! Damn it! Let me go!”

Voldemort lowered his wand to Hermione, “I will start off simple. Crucio!”

The air was suddenly filled with Hermione’s screams. They reverberated off the walls, echoed in the space…in Harry’s head…he felt as if he were sharing her pain, as if he were the one under the curse. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t see her in such pain, maybe even wishing, like he had earlier, to die…for it to end…

He didn’t notice it when his hand began loosening its grip on the edge. He didn’t notice it until he began to fall to the ground, but as soon as he did, he pointed his wand at Voldemort. He felt seventeen years of suffering, seventeen years of mystery and trials…he felt hatred like he had never experienced before, pouring out of him. He felt every single thing that had happened to him on Voldemort’s account, rising to the surface, almost drowning him in a mix of emotions.

And then, he yelled, with all his might, “Avada Kedavra!”

He wished for it all to end…for it to be over…

The spell had barely left his wand when Voldemort lifted the curse off Hermione and shot a Killing Curse towards Harry as well. He didn’t notice it, racing towards Hermione and enveloping her in his arms. She gasped, shaking her head, pointing towards the ray of light that was now speeding towards them. Harry let go of her, and did the first thing that came to his mind.

He pushed her behind him, and braced himself for impact.

Several things happened in very quick succession.

First, Harry felt Hermione’s hands closing around his shoulders. She leaned her head on the side of his neck, tears trickling down her cheeks and onto his robes.

Second, the pendant around Harry’s neck began glowing brighter than it had all night. Harry thought it would burst out of his robes, but it simply untangled itself from his clothes, and came into view.

And third, the Killing curses reached their destinations. One hit Voldemort, and Harry heard his yell of mingled frustration and confusion. The other hit Harry, straight in the chest.

A bright green light shone all around him. He still regained some consciousness…Hermione was crying, sobbing…everything was becoming blurry…a sharp pain shot across his body…the pendant shone brighter, as did the light around him, and he yelled, for the pain intensified…a sharp gasp was heard from Hermione…they were both yelling…falling into the darkness…

And then he knew no more.

***

Three weeks later �“ The Hospital Wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

“I think�”yes, Madam Pomfrey! He’s opening his eyes! Oh, Harry!”

He could hear her distant voice, speaking. She seemed over the moon with joy, calling Madam Pomfrey frantically. He blinked once, twice, but still, all he could see was black. He grunted, raising his hands to rub his eyes, but it had no effect. Starting to feel worried, he cleared his throat and said, hoarsely, “Hermione?”

He heard a sob, and the next thing he knew, soft hands were closing around him. He could smell her hair over his face as she held him tightly, sobbing onto his shoulder. She mumbled a lot of things, apparently explaining things to him, but he didn’t understand.

“Harry…I’ve been so worried…I thought you’d…oh…” she whispered, sobbing again and pressing her lips to his briefly, before pulling away, “Do you feel okay?”

“I�”I can’t see, Hermione.”

“Oh…well, Madam Pomfrey said that might happen…” she whispered, her voice strangely high-pitched now, “I don’t think it’s permanent…” she added uncertainly, more to herself than to him.

Frantic footsteps were heard, and the next thing he knew, a dozen voices were speaking at the same time. There was a loud hissing noise, and Madam Pomfrey pushed through the crowd, “Potter,” she said, her voice soft, very much unlike her usual brisk manner, “You have to drink this potion here. It’ll clear off any side-effects from the other potions I gave you…”

Harry felt the edge of a cup pressing against his lips, and an extremely bitter liquid pouring into his mouth. He screwed up his face in disgust, but swallowed it, coughing slightly. Slowly, the sight before him began to come into view, first extremely blurry, until he could see everything properly.

“And you’ll need this one, too,” madam Pomfrey added, handing him a small vial of bubbling liquid, which he drank without comment.

“Harry,” Ron said, peering at him with a worried expression, “You…you did it,” he said simply, his voice filled with awe, “You…you got rid of him.”

It was only then that all the memories from the Final battle came back to Harry’s find. They flooded his mind, numbing his senses, and he looked back at Ron in shock, "H-How long have I...?"

"You've been in a coma for three weeks, mate. You had us really worried..."

Harry frowned, “Wait a minute�”I’m supposed to be dead�”he got me with an Avada…I’m supposed to be�”“

Hermione shook her head, “The pendant protected you, Harry.”

“And…but what about�”the prophecy?”

“The second one, you mean?”

“Second one?” Ron repeated, frowning.

Hermione glanced at Ron, “We’ll tell you later,” she said hurriedly, before turning bacl to Harry, “Well, apparently, we fulfilled it…Dumbledore says�”“

“He’s alive?”

“Yes, what Voldemort showed you was a trick. Anyway, he says that by holding you as the curse came in contact, I transferred my energy to you, thus ‘working in alliance with you’. The pendant helped loads, obviously, and you had a lot of power, but it wouldn’t have been enough if I hadn’t been there. You would have died, along with Voldemort.”

Harry processed this bit of information, before nodding, and saying slowly, “So…he’s gone? What about the Death Eaters?”

Ron nodded, “You-Know-Who�”I mean, Voldemort’s gone. The Death Eaters are still running around, though. The Ministry’s still a mess, so they haven’t been able to round them up yet. Dumbledore’s helping, of course, but you know…”

“And what about Hermione’s parents?”

Hermione smiled, “As soon as Voldemort’s lot attacked Hogwarts, Dumbledore sent some Order members to look for them. They found them…some Death eaters were…well, anyway, they found them and brought them with everyone else that was hidden here.”

Harry frowned, “Where were they hidden?”

“Ancient underground passages, under the school. They’ve been there since the time of the Founders, to be used in cases of great emergency. Only the Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school ever knew about them. I think they’ve only been used once before…” she said thoughtfully, “Anyway, there were apparently a few entrances to them, and mum and dad were ushered inside just as you were coming in.”

“Didn’t you go looking for them?”

“Yeah,” said Ron, “but we only managed to sneak past you and those other Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall before we got caught. We’d gone to search in the Dungeons, you see…”

Harry slumped back on his pillows, processing all the information. It seemed so surreal. Everything was really over. He felt as if a massive load had just been lifted off his back.

“Trewlaney? And Pettigrew, what happened to him?”

“Trewlaney’s fine, she’s up in her Tower now, I think,” Hermione said, “As for Pettigrew, Voldemort murdered him after his followers brought him back.”

Harry nodded again, wondering if this was a dream. Could this be possible? Could it all be over? It felt so satisfying, knowing that Voldemort was gone…that he had saved all those people…that he had finally done it.

As if reading his thoughts, Hermione smiled, saying, “You really did it, Harry.”

“It’s over, mate,” said Ron, smiling.

And he found himself sitting back up and hugging Hermione very tightly, before hugging Ron as well. He thanked God; he thanked Merlin, for everything. He thanked them for being here, safe and well, for having them at his side, for having defeated Voldemort, for Hermione’s parents being alive…

For his choices, because thanks to them he was here…

Thanks to his choices, he had Hermione…thanks to them, he defeated Voldemort…thanks to them, he was the way he was, and thanks to them, he was different than Voldemort and Malfoy and all of those people.

Thanks to them, he was here, with a new beginning.

�” FIN �”

***

Disclaimer bit: The song lyrics at the beginning are not mine�”they belong to Evanescence, and are from their song, “Whisper”

Author’s Note: Well, it’s over. Congrats to you, by the way, because you’ve just read through this monster of a last chapter. =D These were supposed to be two chapters, you know, but I decided to throw it all in together. Anyway, thanks to all of you for reading, and thanks so, so, so much for all your reviews! They really helped me shape the plot, not to mention that they gave me a lot of confidence. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

Thanks to Stephanie, who modded most of the chapters. Thanks to her, this chapter might be up before HBP. =) If not, it's okay. My grattitude goes out to her anyway.

I’m actually very satisfied to see the story end. I loved writing it�”really, I did�”but it had to end sometime. =)

Cheers,

~ Croyez