DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!



Four More Days


A sob broke the still night air of number four Privet Drive. It had been only a few hours since Dumblerdore’s funeral and Harry Potter was staring up into his ceiling, not quite sure if he was ready to respond to his friends’ crying. They had arrived hours before to some expected resistance from the Dursleys; however, with a quick comment from Ron involving a pair of pig’s ears to match Dudley’s former tail and Hermione fingering the wand she had tucked into the waistband of her jeans, the trio was able to retreat into Harry’s room without incident. Another soft sob issued from the corner opposite Harry, breaking Harry from his remembrances of their arrival early that day, when a voice next to him called out.

“Hermione,” Ron whispered, “is that you?”

“Ron,” an almost inaudible gasp escaped Hermione’s lips. “I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she responded in a choked whisper.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he responded with a watery chuckle as he rose and crossed the room from a cot she had conjured just hours before to the bed that both he and Harry insisted that she take for the night. He paused for a second before he sat on the edge of her bed.

“It’s just catching up with me I think,” Hermione began as she sat up and rubbed her forehead. She started to cry again, though softer than before. Harry saw Ron pat her awkwardly on the back before Hermione threw herself into his arms. Ron looked momentarily shocked, but then allowed her to ease into him as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned back on the headboard. Hermione sobbed onto Ron’s chest, not unlike several hours before in the broad daylight of the funeral. Ron kissed the top of her head and then whispered to her soothingly, rubbing her back as she continued to tremble.

Harry noted his own eyes had started to burn as he felt a solitary tear slide down his face. A familiar, yet unpleasant, pang hit him in the stomach as he grieved for what was lost. He grieved for the loss of his mentor, for the pain his friends were forced to feel, for what he knew was ahead of them, and for the loss of a certain redhead who refused to leave his conscious mind.

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron’s words brought Harry’s mind to the present moment, “It will be alright. I’ll protect you; I’m here for you.”

Hermione’s breathing eased as he spoke.

“I know you will,” she whispered back, snuggling closer to him.

After several long moments, Harry saw Ron shift in Hermione’s bed. “Umm…Hermione?”

“Yes, Ron?”

“Do you want me to…I mean…should I….go?” he managed to sputter.

“Oh!” Hermione started, “I, well, I mean…..would you mind, staying with me……for a few more minutes?” she asked shyly. Harry could almost feel the heat rising from two faces that he was positive were blushing.

“Sure!” Ron responded a little too quickly, while tightening his hold on her.

And, within seconds, Harry noted Hermione’s breathing completely relaxed, and Ron’s unconscious form emitting soft snoring noises.


~*~


“Ron! Wake up!”

“Hmmmmm.”

“I said wake up!”

“Not yet Hermione, I’m tired,” slurred an obviously sleeping Ron as he tugged on the arm wrapped firmly around Hermione’s waist, pulling her closer to him.

Harry was lying silently in his bed. He had been awake only a few minutes before he realized that his friends had spent the night in each other’s arms. He knew it had been completely innocent, but he wanted to give them the opportunity to rearrange themselves before they found out he was awake.

“Ronald!” Hermione hissed. Harry was once again aware of the heat radiating off his friend’s face. “Ronald, wake up and let me go!”

“What?” he replied sleepily as he opened his eyes. “Oh, Hermione,” he started, “I’m…I didn’t mean…..sorry” he finished lamely as he struggled to disentangle himself from her.

“No, it’s not….” Hermione trailed off, blushing furiously, as she tried to explain herself, gently putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder to stop his frantic struggling. “I mean to say, I’m not upset with….well I….It’s just I think we should……reposition…...before Harry wakes up.”

Ron stopped struggling out of the blankets for a moment to look down at Hermione.

“Right. Sorry,” Ron mumbled as he made to return to his own cot, but half way between sitting up he paused, his back to her.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Just so you know,” Ron was stumbling over his words. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I just sort of fell asleep,” he finished sheepishly, refusing to look at her.

“No, it was my fault,” Hermione replied hastily. “I asked you to stay, remember,” she finished softly, putting her hand lightly on his forearm.

“I just wouldn’t want you to think…..well…that I’d try to….take advantage,” Ron stated awkwardly.

“I know you’d never do that, Ron,” she replied sincerely, tugging slightly on his forearm to force him to look at her. “Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t enjoy it, on occasion,” she added in an afterthought, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips.

Ron’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t care what they pulled last night! This is not a hotel! They can do the chores he’s assigned to do if they expect to stay in this house!” a voice was bellowing from downstairs and getting closer every second.

Ron jerked away from Hermione suddenly and scrambled back to his own bed as a pounding nearly beat down the door.

Harry got out of bed slowly, taking his time, and opened the door unabashed by the loud awakening he had received and ignoring the embarrassed looks both his friends were trying, unsuccessfully, to hide. The source of all the commotion was of course his uncle, Vernon Dursley.

“Good morning,” Harry stated lazily, stifling a yawn.

“Hmph,” Uncle Vernon seemed to have lost some of his steam now that he was standing in front of his nephew and being glared at by a young witch with a wand already in hand as well a young wizard whose face was contorted with anger. Harry was in the process of deciding whether Ron was angry about the way his uncle had treated him, or the fact that his uncle had ruined a good moment between Hermione and himself, when Uncle Vernon chimed in again.

“The yard needs mowing, the hedges need trimming, and the garden needs weeding. If you expect me to put up with your lot….well, don’t think it gets you out of your chores! We could have shipped you out long before this, should have too in my…” but Harry interrupted him, he thought he should given the enraged looks on the face of both his friends. The last thing they needed was trouble with the Ministry for inappropriate use of magic on a Muggle.

“First, do not speak to any of us that way ever again. I will be an adult in only a month, angering me would not be healthy for you.” Harry started dispassionately, eyeing his uncle head to toe. “Second, I’ll agree to do my chores, as I have for every other summer, but you will not approach us for the rest of my time here. Me doing my chores will be payment for whatever little it is you gave me over the past sixteen years, though it’s probably more than you deserve.” Harry finished with cold indifference and a look that challenged his uncle to disagree.

Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to retort. Apparently he thought better of it because he sputtered something nonsensical as he trudged down the hall and out of sight.

Harry looked apologetically at his friends.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“No mate, I’m sorry…..” Ron trailed off. “Bloody brilliant speech, though!” he added enthusiastically.

“Well, I’m off to shower,” Hermione stated suddenly, jumping out of bed. “Then I’ll nip off to Diagon Alley for some groceries. I wasn’t looking forward to your aunt’s cooking anyway,” Hermione added, wrinkling her nose.

Harry laughed and got out of bed himself.

“Well, it’s lucky I still have some Galleons left,” Harry said. “Gringotts is one place we’ll definitely have to stop after we,” Harry indicated Ron and himself, “get our Apparition License.”

With that Hermione dashed out of the room only to dash back seconds later mumbling, “I almost forgot.” She ran up to Ron, kissed him quickly on the check and whispered in his ear something that sounded dangerously like, “By the way, thanks for last night,” causing both to blush furiously as Hermione, once again, headed for the showers.

~*~

After breakfast was finished; Hermione cooked up some eggs, ham, bacon, and biscuits that Ron marveled were “as good as mum’s;” Ron decided it was time for a shower as well. While Hermione was helping Harry straighten out his room into a more livable arrangement, as the three of them were to be sharing the room for nearly a month, Harry confronted Hermione.

“So, what did Ron do last night that deserved such thanks?” Harry asked, turning away to make his bed in order to hide the laughter threatening to burst from him.

Hermione blushed a deep crimson before replying, “Well,” Hermione paused, “I suppose I should tell you.” Hermione dropped the old radio she was about to transfigure into a dresser. “Harry, last night, Ron and I…..we sort of…..” Hermione trailed off.

“It’s alright, I already know,” Harry said, sympathy for her embarrassment causing him to stop her from continuing.

“You know?!” Hermione asked looking at him with confusion and shock written all over her face. “But, how?” she spluttered. “You weren’t…..awake….were you?” she cringed at these last words.

“Well, not last night,” Harry decided the whole truth would embarrass her. “But, this morning, I heard you guys waking up. Don’t worry,” he added quickly in response to the worried look on Hermione’s face, “I don’t think anything happened last night.”

“Oh,” relief spread over Hermione’s face. “Well, nothing did happen. We wouldn’t do that to you, Harry,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

“Not that, like you, I’d mind if something did,” Harry added with a smirk causing Hermione to blush in remembering her last words to Ron. “Though perhaps not with me in the room,” he added in an afterthought.

Hermione turned a color that would make any Weasley proud as Harry continued, becoming serious.

“I know Ron, and while he might not be as good as you on the feelings stuff, he really cares for you. And, not just in the you’re his-best-friend kind of way,” Harry looked at Hermione, but her eyes were intensely focused somewhere in the vicinity of her left shoe.

“But, then why,” Hermione began in a small voice, still examining her shoe, “why, all of last year…….” she trailed off.

“You know, as well as I do, he never cared for Lavender!” Harry stated with exasperation, causing Hermione’s eyes to meet Harry’s.

“I know he didn’t!” she snapped back. “I thought it was the….well,” Hermione’s voice lost its power, “the…”

“Snogging?” Harry filled in.

Tears were welling in Hermione’s eyes.

“Hermione,” Harry softened his voice and put an arm around his friend, “he was jealous, he’s been jealous for the last three years.”

Hermione wiped a tear from her cheek, “I know that,” she responded in a choked whisper. “But, he shouldn’t be,” she responded in earnest, locking eyes with Harry. “Viktor was…he was someone who took notice, and yes, my first kiss,” Hermione looked down again but Harry didn’t remove his arm. After last year, after how happy he had felt for those few precious weeks, he wanted his friends to have that same happiness - while they still had the time. “But, it was always Ron!” she sobbed. “He just never noticed….” she trailed off sadly.

“Well, I think he noticed, or at least recognized his feelings for you. I’ll bet he just feels……unworthy.”

Hermione looked at Harry like she wanted to argue, but then simply nodded her head. “He’s always been rather stupid about that,” Hermione said with a watery chuckle.

“I think you should tell him, Hermione,” Harry said, locking eyes with her, “while there’s still time.”

“Harry, there are things now, important things, this can wait,” Hermione stared back at Harry, expecting him to agree.

“No,” Harry was shaking his head, “this is important, too. He should know how you feel. It would mean the world to him. And, as Dumbledore would have said, ‘It’s good to have a little more love in this world,’” Harry finished as if that had settled everything.

“What about you?” Hermione countered. “What about Ginny?”

Her name stung him.

“Well, it’s always a different story with me isn’t it,” Harry returned, almost venomously.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Hermione replied in a small voice, touching his hand.

Harry softened. “I’m sorry,” he said, aware of how his sudden change of tone affected his friend. “I’ll think about it,” he added, not really believing that to be true.

“Well, I’ll think about it, too,” Hermione replied softly. “Maybe, the wedding….” but Hermione was cut off.

“Oi, what’s this? I thought you two would have the room done by now?” Ron came traipsing into the room with fresh clothes on, drying his hair with a towel.

“Here let me,” Hermione said, jumping up and pointing her wand at Ron’s head. In an instant his hair was dry.

“Thanks, Hermione!” he stated brightly. “I forgot I could do that now.” She blushed as she turned to continue the transformation of Harry’s room.


~*~


Hermione really was a homemaker. Harry’s room was barely recognizable; she had enlarged the room as a whole and transfigured Harry’s old, battered furniture into comfy replicas of the Gryffindor common room. All three had four-poster beds, though a thin wall now separated Hermione’s bed from the other two; there was a common sitting area (complete with wizard’s chess), and a kitchenette. She also took care of each meal, making Harry eternally grateful that she would be accompanying them after the wedding. Ron completed the chores that Uncle Vernon had outlined so maliciously in a matter of minutes with the swish of his wand. “So, that’s what Muggles have to complain about, huh?” Ron grumbled from the window. “Tell them to try a de-gnoming.” Hermione simply rolled her eyes.

Each day brought them closer to the wedding, and closer to the day their journey would begin. Each day they mused, plotted, and discussed the cup, the locket, the snake, and something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s. Each day Harry felt fear creep through him as he remembered Dumblerdore’s careful pondering at the cave, “How am I going to….sense….the magic, as he could?” He was hoping it would come to him when he needed it. Each night Harry tried to sleep, anxious and exhausted. And every night, without fail, that spontaneous redhead would flood his mind with wistful memories and promises never fulfilled.

Tomorrow was his birthday. Three days after that was the wedding. To him, that meant four more days before it all began. To him, that meant four more days of peace with Ron and Hermione.

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!





The Last Time








The days at Privet Drive had passed pleasantly enough. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were avoiding the trio as though they could catch a mysterious illness from simply being near them. Dudley remained strangely silent around the house and was only near Harry when Hermione happened to be about, peering at them around corners. They had made no headway into where the next Horcrux may be located, although Hermione had some insightful contributions.








“Well, if Voldemort hid the locket in the cave, it’s logical to believe he would hide the others in places where he felt the most powerful,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly.








“How is it logical to assume that?” Ron asked, a triumphant grin replacing his flustered look as his knight sent bits of Harry’s queen littering the board.








“He felt powerful there because he could use his magic to intimidate his peers,” Hermione replied with exasperation. “Maybe even for the first time…” Hermione added thoughtfully, clearing away the left over dinner debris.








“And the ring, at the Gaunt house,” Harry started slowly, jumping up to help Hermione clean the dinner mess, “Voldemort hid it there because that was the location that enabled him to end his Muggle lineage!”








“Exactly,” Hermione validated gravely.








“But, why not hide it in the Riddle house?” Ron asked, yawning while placing his feet on the recently cleared table and stretching his arms over his head. “Isn’t that where he actually killed his dad?”








“I expect he was afraid the Riddle house would be too public, or stripped after a will was read. No one would want to go near the Gaunt house again,” Hermione answered, smacking Ron’s feet off the table and handing him a dishtowel.








“Besides, the Gaunt house was as much a part of his lineage as the Riddle house was,” Harry added. “And, he was proud of his Slytherin side.”








“OK, but, You-Know-Who has felt powerful all over the place,” Ron groaned, wiping the table clean. “How are we supposed to figure out where he felt the most powerful?”








“By finding out as much about him as possible,” Harry responded quietly. “That’s what Dumbledore was doing; that’s why he showed me those memories.” The trio fell into silence, as they had done on so many nights, each contemplating the next step.








~*~








“Ron!” Hermione squealed. “Let him go!”








“No worries, Hermione,” Ron replied gruffly, casting a look around the Dursleys’ backyard. “The Ministry only takes notice if you use magic on a Muggle.” Ron had Dudley in a wrestling style headlock, one Harry was sure his brothers had used on him many times in his youth.








“Geroffme,” Dudley sputtered from under Ron’s lanky arm.








“Ron!” Hermione stamped her foot in frustration. “I’m not going to say it again!”








“But…” Ron began, but Hermione cast Ron a look not to be questioned. “Fine!” he huffed as Dudley squirmed out of his grip and ran off to the house. “And don’t let me catch you doing that ever again!” Ron roared off after him.








“Honestly, Ronald!” Hermione muttered, though her face was still a considerable shade of red. “I can handle myself…..”








“Sure looked that way,” Ron retorted. “His hands all over you,” Ron mumbled in an undertone.








“Whose hands were where?” Harry, his brow furrowed, had just caught the last of his friend’s argument whiling exiting the kitchen bearing fresh drinks in hand.








“That pig cousin of yours!” Ron began heatedly. “Had his hands, trying to pinch,” Ron face was growing redder by the minute.








“It was nothing, Harry, “Hermione interrupted quickly, reaching for her drink. “Dudley tried to….” she trailed off, unsure of how to word it, “Ronald handled it a little too roughly.”








“He was lucky that’s all I did,” Ron grumbled.








“Wait, my cousin?” Harry asked, stunned. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he added quickly at the look on Ron’s face, “it’s just, I wish I could have seen Ron’s reaction!” Harry laughed in spite of himself.








Ron sputtered angrily, his face growing so red it was likely to shade purple.








“Are you alright?” Harry asked his friend, amused but also definitely concerned.








“It was nothing,” Hermione muttered, embarrassed.








“What did he try?” Harry asked, curiosity enabling him to control his laughter.








“Pinching...her...” but Ron’s anger prevented him from finishing the sentence. Instead, he pointed at the area on Hermione that Dudley had tried to insult. Hermione turned beet red and cast around for a change of subject.








“So, it being your birthday today,” she addressed Harry, “should we schedule a trip to the Ministry for your Apparition Licenses?”








This question quickly sobered both Ron and Harry.








~*~








“Urgh!” Hermione muttered, after landing roughly on the Ministry of Magic’s lobby floor, having just used Mrs. Figg’s fireplace to Floo to the Ministry. “I can’t wait until we never have to do that again!”








“I can’t tell which is more uncomfortable, I still hate Apparating,” Harry was dusting himself off. “But, you could have Apparated, you have your license,” Harry added with a teasing undertone.








“Well, it’s a matter of...we should stick together,” Hermione finished lamely, a flush creeping into her face. Harry knew she had Flooed to the Ministry in an attempt to bolster Ron’s spirits.








Ron stood stock still, covered in ash. He looked as though he had just inadvertently cast another slug-belching spell on himself.








“Ron,” Hermione addressed him gently as she began dusting his shoulders free of ash, “you’ll be great. I know you will.”








Ron smiled weakly as he allowed Hermione to pin a visitor’s badge to his chest, which had just popped out of a slot near the visitor fireplace.








Ronald Weasley


Apparition Testing Hopeful








Hermione smiled as she and Harry began to steer Ron to the wand registration desk. A young wizard Harry had never seen before reached for their wands without looking up.








“Wands please,” he stated in a bored voice, indicating that the trio should place their wands in the hand he was extending towards them.








“Ten inches, dragon heartstring core, been in use six years,” he handed Hermione back her wand after a brass instrument resembling a scale had measured it. “ Fourteen inches, unicorn tail hair, been in use four years,” he handed Ron his wand, impaling both his an Hermione’s wand receipts on a brass spike. “What did you do to the first one? Bad spell?” the wizard looked up with mild interest at Ron but his eyes soon strayed to Harry’s forehead. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use six years,” he handed over the last wand as his eyes traveled to Harry’s name badge. “The Apparition Test Center is located on the sixth level.”








“Right, thanks,” Harry responded politely, subconsciously ruffling his hair over his scar while making his way towards the elevators.








“Wait,” the wizard called nervously, “can I get you a map, or a personal guide perhaps?”








“No, we’ll be fine. Er, thanks,” Harry mumbled. But the reason for the wizard sudden attention became obvious the second the trio turned from the wand registration desk, a hoard of photographers and reporters were rushing through the lobby. The wizard at the desk must have summoned them after realizing who Harry was.








“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!”








“Over here, Mr. Potter!”








“What are your feelings regarding the recent Ministry arrests?”








“Why are you at the Ministry this morning, Mr. Potter?”








“Are you here to confer with the Minister?”








“Any new girlfriends on the horizon?” asked one cheeky blonde reporter, winking in Harry’s direction.








“No comment, Apparition Testing only, absolutely not, and NO!” Harry stated forcefully, taking both Ron and Hermione by the arm and steering them through the crowd.








“How dare they!” Hermione blustered once safely tucked away in the elevator. “After everything the media has done to you, how dare they!” Hermione was seething.





“I’d bet anything Scrimgeour had them on high alert,” Ron added hotly, at least the confrontation in the lobby seemed to take the edge off Ron. “He must’ve known you’d be of age today and in to get your license.”








“He probably hoped I’d be flustered into saying something that would put the Ministry in good light,” Harry responded. “Fat chance,” he added darkly. The elevator stopped and a singsong voice wailed out “Level six, Department of Magical Transport, Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Experimental International Boating Transport, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Center.” *








“Experimental International Boating Transport,” Hermione mused, as she walked Harry and Ron into the testing center, “Viktor had written about……” but she broke off with a quick look from Harry. Ron, thankfully, hadn’t heard as both Harry and he approached the testing desk to register.








The room beyond the Apparition Test Centers’ main desk was nothing short of ordinary. The paint was peeling in the small and cramped room and posters displaying the famous three D’s of Apparition were plastered over the more unfortunate sections of the wall. There were six rings set up in a row each about ten feet from platforms placed directly across from them. An old and grumpy wizard, with a mustache like a walrus, directed Harry and Ron to their own platforms.








“When you’re ready,” he began in a bored voice, “you’re to Apparate inside the ring directly across from you,” the wizard indicated the rings directly across from Harry and Ron. “Apparating into a ring that is not directly across from you,” the wizard indicated rings that were not directly across from Harry and Ron, Harry could hear Ron gulp, “will result in failure of your Apparition Test. You will be eligible to re-take the test in one month’s time.” Ron shifted uncomfortably. “Whenever you’re ready,” the wizard waved a hand in their direction and turned to sit behind a small desk, located on the other side of the room.








“Want to go first?” Harry tentatively asked Ron.








Ron shook his head in response, looking as though he were about to be sick.








Harry nodded his head, turned on the spot and, with a little pop, appeared in the ring directly across from him with a wide smile on his face.








“Congratulations,” The older wizard said, in a very non-excited voice. “Next,” he indicated Ron.








~*~








“I knew you could do it!” a formerly nervous looking Hermione exclaimed, as she raced to throw her arms around both of their necks. An extremely pleased Harry and Ron had just walked through the testing room doors and were brandishing their new Apparition Licenses.








“Look,” Ron exclaimed happily, “both eyebrows!”








Hermione beamed.








“Hey,” Harry suddenly had an idea, “why don’t we go see your dad and show him your license?” he asked Ron.








“Can’t mate, he won’t be there, he’s setting up for-”








“Why don’t we go back to Privet Drive and help you pack,” Hermione cut him off with a sharp look. “Now that your seventeen, your of age to move out.”








“Uh, yeah, sure,” Harry responded, slightly confused. If Ron’s dad were helping to set up for the wedding, why couldn’t Ron tell him that and why would Hermione cut him off?








After Apparating back to Privet Drive, which Ron was now completely comfortable doing, the trio began the task of packing Harry’s belongings. Hermione also took it upon herself to assist Harry in ridding himself of any unnecessary baggage.








“Really, Harry, these socks are disgusting,” Hermione was pointing to a particularly nasty pair of Uncle Vernon’s hand-me-down socks. She already had a rather large pile of clothing she deemed ‘un-wearable.’








“Hermione, I’ll have no clothes left after this,” Harry stated with hints of both exasperation and amusement.








“Well, we’ll just have to go shopping,” Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose at some of Harry’s old tee shirts.








Hermione had just finished disposing of most of Harry’s clothing, while packing the sparse remainder of items, when a timid Aunt Petunia poked her head into his room.








“Ahem,” she cleared her throat to make her presence known. “Harry, you told us you’d be leaving today. Before you go, I’d like a private word.” Harry had never heard his aunt address him like this before; her tone was neither harsh nor demanding. It was definitely a request, rather than a command. It was almost as though she wanted a proper good-bye.








“Sure,” Harry responded, slightly confused. “I’ll meet you guys downstairs,” he said to Ron and Hermione who responded with a nod of their heads and levitated his luggage to the stairs, leaving behind only a few stray knick-knacks that Harry was placing into his backpack.








Aunt Petunia watched them leave and then glanced around the nearly empty room. “You look so very much like him, like James,” she whispered. Harry never heard his aunt refer to his father by his name before. “But, you definitely have her eyes,” she continued fondly, looking up at Harry. “You have Lily’s eyes,” tears sprang up in Aunt Petunia’s eyes as she mentioned her only sister. “We haven’t treated you as we should, and part of that is my fault. I hated your father,” Harry felt his insides recoil, but thought it best to let her continue, “I have always blamed him for my sister’s death. I always felt he took her from my family and put her in harm’s way. Deep down, I know my sister would have fought the war regardless. It was easier to blame James,” Aunt Petunia’s eyes sought Harry’s. “I have always seen him in you, and part of me hated you for that. I’m sorry,” a single tear streaked Aunt Petunia’s bony cheek. Harry felt a lump begin to rise in his throat. “I know you are leaving us today and I understand. But,” Aunt Petunia looked intently at Harry, who met her eyes, “I will always be your family; you will always have a home with me, if you should ever need one.” Aunt Petunia found herself at a loss for words, as did Harry. She glanced once again around the room, her eyes settling on the last picture left to pack. The picture showed Harry and Ginny, standing by the lake, enjoying happier times together. Harry heard a small intake of breath from Aunt Petunia. “Who is this?” she asked unsteadily, reaching for the photograph.








“That was my girlfriend, Ginny” Harry responded truthfully, though he couldn’t explain why. “But, we broke up, what with…” Harry trailed off, with a pang in his chest; it was still too painful to talk about.








Aunt Petunia laughed softly. “So did Lily and James. Only for a while,” she added at Harry’s bewildered look. “She cried her eyes out, said he was being a noble git, if I remember correctly. It was right before she joined him in the war,” Aunt Petunia’s face screwed up at the memory. “If you love her, go back to her,” she said softly to Harry. And then, almost to herself, she whispered, “You look so like James, and she looks so like…..” She trailed off as she turned to leave the room. “Oh, and Harry,” she turned to face him, “Happy Birthday.”








Aunt Petunia left the room as Harry visually scanned it one last time. Blank walls and empty drawers stared back at him. He was leaving a house that was never his home. But without it, he truly was homeless. Harry sighed, heaved his backpack onto his back and descended the stairs of Privet Drive for the last time.
































* With the exception of the “Experimental International Boating Transport”, the other departments mentioned in this line are excerpts from J.K. Rowlings Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, page 129, United States Edition.

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!



Plans and Phoenix Protections



Harry, Ron and Hermione all arrived with a soft pop on the lane leading directly to the Burrow. Harry’s stomach clenched as soon as he took his first steps towards the front door. This would be the first time he saw Ginny after their break-up. Harry knew he had to keep his resolve. He knew that he did not, under any circumstances, want to get back together with Ginny.


“Don’t worry mate,” Ron said confidently to Harry, correctly interpreting Harry’s resistance to approaching the front door. “If I know my sister, she won’t be too rough on you.” Ron had been un-expectantly supportive of Harry’s decision. After his initial anger when Harry told him, he agreed with Harry that it was probably safer for Ginny if they broke up. Hermione was surprisingly irritated at Harry. She immediately told him he was being a foolish git (at which Harry and Ron gaped at her wordlessly, never having heard Hermione use the word before). Ron marched up to the door while Harry hesitated. “I’ll bet she didn’t even tell Mum you two went out!”


Harry didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he did know he was devastated by the break-up. He only hoped that Ginny was doing better than he felt.


“But she misses you,” Hermione whispered encouragingly in Harry’s ear. “So, be kind to her.” Harry looked questioningly at Hermione. “Just take her lead,” she explained.


Ron knocked on the Burrow’s front door. The trio could hear a rush for the door.


“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice asked from the other side of the door.


“It’s me, Mum,” Ron replied, “Ron.”


“Ask him the question, Molly!” a male’s voice rang out sharply, as the trio heard a bolt slide back into place.


“Really, Arthur!” the women’s voice bustled back. “I was going to! Ronald, what did Fred and George try to get you to agree to with an Unbreakable Vow?”


Ron’s ears colored red. “That I’d wear a pink dress on my first day at Hogwarts.”


Harry and Hermione roared with laughter as the front door swung open and they were pulled into a tight hug from Mrs. Weasley. All three were greeted with a round of hugs from a sea of redheads and one slivery blonde, but the one redhead Harry was seeking out wasn’t present.


“Why do all our safety questions have to be so embarrassing?” Ron mumbled as he made his way to the table.


“Charlie, be a dear, and fetch Ginny for me,” Mrs. Weasley asked her son as she sat Harry, Ron, and Hermione down to three bowls of onion soup and a loaf of bread. Harry’s stomach did a back flip.


“Sure thing, mum,” Charlie replied as he jumped up and roared up the stairs. “Oi! Ginny! Company!”


“Well, I could have done that,” Mrs. Weasley muttered in disapproval, passing out three spoons to the newcomers.


“You’d think I was three countries away, the way you yelled…” the most beautiful girl Harry had ever laid eyes on muttered as she made her way down the stairs. She was wearing a casual summer dress with her hair let down; Harry thought she looked gorgeous. On the last step, her eyes met Harry’s and he thought he saw a flash of sadness before a boisterous smile hid it away.


“Ron! Hermione! Harry!” Ginny exclaimed brightly, as she made her way over to the three. “I forgot you were coming today!” Ginny made her way over to where they were sitting and enveloped Hermione in a cheery hug. She punched her brother Ron in the arm, who merely grunted before turning back to his soup, and then gave Harry a playful push. “Happy Birthday, Harry!”


“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry gulped in response before turning back to choke down mouthfuls of his onion soup, trying not to look conspicuous.


“So, boys, how did the test go?” Mrs. Weasley asked, with her eyes casting a flicker of what Harry thought was suspicion towards Ginny.


“Well, what can we say,” Ron swaggered in response as he whipped out his Apparition License and threw it on the table.


“You could say it took you two times to pass, Ickle Ronnikins,” George said eagerly, as though he were waiting for the subject to come up. Fred’s face lit up.


“Well, as a prefect with seven O.W.L.S. to his name, he didn’t want to embarrass his twin brothers by beating them at everything,” Hermione interjected smoothly, with a smirk on her face. The entire table stopped to stare at Hermione, who returned to her soup as though nothing had happened. Ron’s ears went red; Mrs. Weasley had a surprised, yet pleased, look on her face; Ginny started clapping; and Fred and George stood stunned with their mouths hanging open.


“Dammit, Hermione!” Fred started.


“We’ve been looking forward to taking the mickey out of Ron for ages now!” George continued.


“And now you’ve gone and spoiled it,” Fred finished with a glum expression. The twins slumped into a corner as normal conversation returned to the table.


More to keep his attention away from Ginny, who was being dragged into an emotional wedding discussion between Fleur and Mrs. Weasley, Harry leaned into Hermione and whispered, “Nice one!”


Hermione blushed before responding. “I’ve been thinking of a good dig all afternoon,” she responded in hushed tones. “I just knew they were going to try and say something about the whole license thing!” she snorted.


Harry laughed in response; no one could take the edge off Ron like Hermione could.


“Why don’t you three go upstairs and unpack?” Mrs. Weasley suggested after the trio had finished their late lunch. “Supper will be ready soon; I’ll call you.”


“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry answered as he drained the last of his soup. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the stairs, levitating their luggage ahead of them.


~*~


“Better not go down just now,” Ginny said from the doorway to the room Harry would be sharing with Ron. Harry and Ron had just finished unpacking what they would need for the wedding.


“What’s up?” Hermione asked, joining the others in Ron’s room and sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed.


“Mum and Fleur,” Ginny replied with an exasperated look, still standing firmly in the doorframe, her eyes looking anywhere but Harry. “Who cares what kind of flowers the flower girls throws? All you do is step on them!”


“Wizard weddings have flower girls?” Harry asked, hoping Ginny would step into the room. It had suddenly occurred to him that he had never been to a wedding, even a Muggle wedding.


“Yeah, they’re pretty much the same as Muggle weddings, from what I’ve heard,” Ron replied, flopping back down on his bed. “There’s the guy who has you say the vows, a best man…”


“Charlie,” Ginny interrupted, eyes fixed on Ron.


“A maid of honor…” Ron continued.


“Matron of honor, Fleur’s mother,” Ginny interrupted again.


“And a flower girl,” Ron finished, shooting an annoyed look at his sister. “Did I forget anyone?” he asked grumpily.


“Yeah, the wedding party,” returned Ginny smiling, still barricading the doorway and avoiding Harry’s eye. “Gabrielle, Fred, George, you, and me.”


“Right, right...” Ron replied lazily.


Harry knew it was going to be hard to be at the Burrow for three days, trying to hide his feelings for Ginny. She wouldn’t look his way, she had a smile plastered to her face, and she wouldn’t step foot in the same room as him! Harry thought she would be upset with him. But, he was hoping their friendship would be strong enough to make it through this. He was hoping for some semblance of what their relationship was last summer, before he felt so strongly for her. The thought of losing his Ginny altogether scared him half to death. All he wanted to do at that moment was sweep her into his arms and snog her senseless. He wanted to scream, “Don’t you know this is killing me? Don’t you know I lo…”


“Ginny! Supper’s ready!” a hassled sounding voice came from the kitchen, bringing Harry’s attention back to the present moment.


“Be right down!” Ginny shouted back as Ron and Hermione made their way past her and down the stairs.


The battle raging in Harry’s mind since Dumbledore’s funeral had driven him half crazy. You’re doing it for her protection. You’ve made up your mind; now let it go! Forget about her! It’s over! But, he was finding it difficult to keep his resolve, especially with her looking so pretty and standing so close…


“Harry? Are you coming?” Ginny asked, but her eyes were cast downward. Harry hung back on purpose, reaching for Ginny’s forearm.


“Ginny…” Harry murmured softly, attempting to look Ginny in the eye. She kept her gaze decidedly fixed on the floor.

“Not now, Harry,” she responded softly. Harry thought he heard his heart break as Ginny broke the hold he had on her and started down the staircase. He knew he couldn’t be with her, but he didn’t think he could stand to have Ginny so distant…


~*~


“Surprise!” was yelled at Harry from every direction as he came down the stairs into the Burrow’s kitchen. Truthfully, he was upset when Ron and Hermione had only gotten him cards for his birthday. He didn’t say anything because he remembered the many birthdays in which he didn’t even get that. But, it was unusual for his two best friends to be so casual, especially on the birthday in which he became an adult. However, a surprise party hadn’t even occurred to him. Familiar faces smiled all around him. The whole Weasley family, including Fleur, stood around a table that held a large pile of gifts and an equally large cake that spelt out ‘Happy 17th Birthday Harry!’ in red and gold icing. An assortment of Order members including, Professor McGonagall, Mad Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, and Tonks, all stood close by.


“You didn’t think we’d let you get away without a birthday party, mate!” Ron exclaimed as he grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him into the middle of the room.


“Really,” Hermione snorted, “I can’t believe you bought that whole card bit! As though we wouldn’t get you real presents on your birthday!”


Harry was speechless as he felt a lump rise in his throat for the second time that afternoon.


As usual, Ginny saved the day.


“Well, I’m starving!” she exclaimed brightly. “How about some dinner so we can get to that cake, Harry?”


“Love to,” Harry answered, finally finding his voice. “Thanks everyone, you have no idea…” he began before Bill cut him off with a wave of his hand.


“No emotional speeches just yet Harry! Maybe after we break out the Firewhiskey,” he added with a wink.


The whole party sat down to one of the most delicious meals Harry could ever remember having.


~*~


After a fantastic meal, seconds of birthday cake, and a pile a presents, though suspiciously no present from Ginny, the party retired into the living room. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny all settled to a game of exploding snap. Hermione was ushered, Harry thought unwillingly, into a discussion comparing Muggle and wizard wedding traditions by Fleur and Mrs. Weasley. Charlie, Tonks, and Mad Eye were huddled in the corner having hushed conversations while Harry turned to talk with Professor McGonagall.


“Any news yet on whether or not they’ll keep Hogwarts open, Professor?” Harry asked his, now former, Transfiguration teacher.


“It’s not looking good, Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied grimly, sipping on some of the Firewhiskey Bill was now passing out.


“So, what would the students do then?” Harry continued after Bill filled his own glass to the brim with the noxious liquid.


“Home schooling, I suppose,” Professor McGonagall answered. “Though Muggle-born students would have no place to turn. If it comes to that, Professors Flitwick, Slughorn, Hagrid, Sprout, myself, and Madam Pomfrey have all decided to form a small school, for anyone who would like to attend.”


“I think that’s wonderful,” Lupin interjected into the conversation. “It wouldn’t be fair for the students who want to continue their education if the governors close Hogwarts.”


“Where would the school be located, Minerva?” Mr. Weasley asked, joining the group.


“They wouldn’t let you use Hogwarts?” Harry asked, confused.


“Unfortunately, no they would not, Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied with a grimace. “Letting us utilize Hogwarts would insinuate that the school governors were in support of wizarding families sending their children to school. Which, of course, they are not,” Professor McGonagall stated in disgust. “The other Professors and I have found a manor, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, that will be suitable. It’s small, but we’re not expecting a very large turn out,” she added, her brisk mannerisms returning.


“Any luck on finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Minerva?” Lupin asked.


“Why don’t you do it, Professor?” Harry asked.


“I’m in too deep with the underground now,” Lupin replied dejectedly.


“Actually, we do have one applicant. He’s young, but more than qualified,” Professor McGonagall said in answer to Lupin’s question. “And, as he’s not in the Order, he has the time to devote to the job.”


Harry was about to ask who the candidate was, but Mad Eye Moody was summoning Professor McGonagall. Mr. Weasley left with Bill to locate additional Firewhiskey just as Harry was draining the last of his, willing his eyes not to stray towards Ginny.


Professor Lupin gave a meaningful glance between Harry and Ginny before asking, “It isn’t as easy as one thinks, is it?”


“What?” Harry was startled out of his thoughts.


“Forgetting about her, pretending you don’t care,” Lupin answered, sipping his own Firewhiskey.


“I…I don’t know what you mean,” Harry stammered back, unable to look his old teacher in the eye. Professor Lupin motioned Harry towards the empty kitchen.


“I’ve forced many people in my life away,” Lupin continued seriously as though he hadn’t heard what Harry had just said. “I thought that being close to me would put others in too much danger.” Lupin looked at Harry intently, who kept his eyes focused on his Firewhiskey, “Does this sound at all familiar?”


“Professor,” Harry had been desperate to ask about this since he first heard it, “did my parents really break-up before they got married?”


Lupin burst out into laughter. “I completely forgot about that! Who told you?”


“My Aunt Petunia, she said mum cried her eyes out, said mum called dad a ‘noble git,’” Harry responded nervously.


“Yes, Harry,” Lupin responded, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “your dad truly was a noble git. He did break-up with your mum. She was so upset with him,” Lupin smiled fondly at the memory.


“So, how did they get back together?” Harry asked tentatively, acutely aware of the similarities between his parents situation and his own.


“Sirius and I told him what a prat he was being, said having Lily around made him a better wizard,” Lupin replied without hesitation. “It’s really true, you know. Love does strengthen a person. Take Nymphadora and myself,” Lupin broke eye contact for the first time and focused on his nearly empty glass, “our spell work really has never been stronger,” Lupin said quietly, but with conviction, as he finished his Firewhiskey. Harry looked up and over at Ginny.


“Thanks, Professor,” he said in earnest. “I’ll think about it.”


Lupin patted Harry on the back. “You truly are just like your father,” he chuckled before he made his way over to Tonks.


~*~


After several more glasses of Firewhiskey a story or two, and an excellent indoors fireworks display from the twins; the guests departed while Mrs. Weasley maneuvered the rest of her family out of the kitchen so she could clean, as she put it, “Without you lot under my feet!” Harry, slightly lightheaded from his third glass of Firewhiskey, decided to make his way to the garden to sort his head. The starlight was just bright enough for Harry to make out an old garden gnome attempting to sneak into the Weasley’s garden over the fence. Harry chuckled softly to himself, thinking that he was going to miss those funny little creatures when he left the Burrow only days from now.


“Hi,” a small voice said softly behind him.


“Hi,” Harry responded fondly, recognizing the voice as Ginny Weasley’s as she moved in beside him.


“I wanted to give you your birthday present, but not in front of everyone…” she trailed off quietly as she handed Harry a small, brightly wrapped box.


Harry held the box in his hand. “You didn’t have to...” he returned, his voice faltering.


“It’s alright,” Ginny returned sadly, “I already had it before we broke up,” she finished, laughing softly. “Open it, I have to explain a bit.”


Harry unwrapped the colorful paper, opened the box’s lid, and found a small, familiar looking stone attached to a leather band. The stone was almost wrinkled, and colored opaque with vague flashes of bright red emanating from the center. Harry knew it had seen something like it before, but he couldn’t quite place it…


“It’s a bezoar, well a type of a bezoar really,” Ginny started shyly. “This one’s from the stomach of a phoenix.” Harry fingered the small stone carefully, smiling tenderly at Ginny as she continued. “Phoenix bezoars are very special; they are known not only for their ability to work as an antidote for poison, but also to protect the wearer from physical harm. Fred and George helped me find this one when they were researching their shield merchandise for the Ministry employees. It’s meant to extend health, ward off negative energies, and attract luck,” Ginny recited these traits as she counted off on her fingers. Harry thought she had never looked cuter. “I also preformed the Trocair Charm on the it. The charm works by extending the,” Ginny faltered for the first time since she started her explanation and cast her eyes downward, “...intense… feelings of the charm’s caster to the wearer of the object charmed.” Her eyes traveled slowly to Harry’s face, her voice becoming quiet. “I thought you could use a little extra luck…”


“I don’t know what to say…” Harry started, his throat constricting. “This is the most….you are the most….wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. You have no idea how much this means…” Harry stammered. “Thank you so much,” he said sincerely, reaching for her hand.


Ginny withdrew her hand from Harry’s reach. “That’s not all, Harry. I have something I need to say to you.” Something in her voice caused Harry’s stomach to lurch.


“Ok,” Harry nodded, apprehensive.


“You really hurt me, Harry.”


Harry looked up; ready to protest. Arguments were furiously formulating in his mind. I didn’t break up with you because I wanted to! I had to. I have to protect you. I’m too dangerous to be involved with you. You said you understood!


Ginny shook her head, as though reading his mind. “I’m not talking about our break-up. I said I understood why you did that, and I still do. I told you then that I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were fighting Voldemort.” Ginny stopped to take a deep breath. “I told you then that I knew what was coming. You told me you had ‘things to do alone now.’ But, you’re not going alone are you?”


Harry looked guilty up at Ginny.


“Ron and Hermione are going with you aren’t they?” she continued. This was a Ginny that Harry had never seen. As she held eye contact with Harry, her tone was calm and her voice was level. In the past, if something angered her she would explode, scream and yell, become enraged at the injustice of it all. Yet, here she was now, quiet and composed, no longer a child.


Harry could think of no other response than a quick nod, breaking the eye contact that Ginny had held so firmly up to that point.


Ginny took another deep breath of the warm night air. “I thought so,” she responded quietly, turning her eyes towards the inky sky. “I’m sorry, Harry. I think I deserve better than that.”

Harry gulped. “Ginny,” he started, “it’s just...I...I can’t tell you anything that would…” Harry trailed off, trying to carefully choose the right words. “I can’t tell you anything that anyone would want to…torture...you for,” Harry stopped suddenly at these words, his heart pounding. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being a target for my enemies. I can’t do that to you, and I could never concentrate if I thought you were in danger,” Harry finished firmly.


“And yet, you can trust Ron and Hermione. You haven’t even told me anything you’re planning. I’ll have no idea were you’ll be. I have no way to know if you’re in danger,” Ginny’s voice broke, tears forming in her eyes. “I thought I had proven myself far beyond this. After the Ministry, after last year in the Astronomy Tower...”


“It’s not that I don’t trust you, or think of you as capable,” Harry said affectionately. “It’s me, I don’t think I can handle having you in harm’s way.”


“I’m already in harm’s way, Harry. Look at mum’s clock, all of the family’s hands are pointing to ‘mortal peril.’ Mine’s there, even after we broke up,” Ginny responded firmly. “And, as for ‘having me in harm’s way,’ if you think I’m going to sit this war out, you are sorely mistaken!”


“Ginny, please, I need you to stay safe,” Harry begged, unnerved by the fierceness of her last comment. Please don’t do anything stupid, Ginny!


“I’m not going to do anything reckless,” Ginny responded exasperatingly, once again reading Harry’s mind. “I was talking to Professor McGonagall earlier,” she started tentatively, “if Hogwarts doesn’t open, I’ll enroll at the school she’s starting. It would keep me close to whatever’s going on,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Mum tries to keep everything from me; but, Professor McGonagall knows I want to help. She agreed to have Madam Pomfrey start Elementary Healers lessons with me. If that’s the only way I can be of use, well then...” she trailed off sadly.


“Ginny...” Harry started.


“It’s just not fair to ask me to be someone I’m not, Harry!” Ginny continued, not hearing Harry’s soft murmuring. “I thought you cared for me because of my spirit, my fierceness…”


“I do, Ginny,” Harry interjected in earnest, “that’s one of my favorite - ”

“Then how can you ask me to give that up? To change completely!” Ginny demanded. “How can you expect me to stay at home, like a good girl, and wait for the grown-ups to make the world safe for me?”


Harry saw flashes of anger in Ginny’s eyes. He grabbed her hand, despite her earlier protests, as he let out a sigh and gazed into the star dotted sky. He was angered at the injustice of the world, angry that he was hurting the one person he truly cared for, angry that couldn’t see any other way for things to be…


“I’m sorry, Harry,” Ginny said gently. “All I meant to say was that I’m not going to just stand by and not try to help. I’m going to do everything I can, on my own, to contribute to the end of this war. I just wanted you to know that,” she finished softly, leaning into Harry and giving him a kiss on the cheek. As she turned to head back into the Burrow, Ginny stopped, her back to him. “Goodnight, Harry.”


“Goodnight, Ginny.” Harry thought he saw her wipe a stray tear from her cheek before striding confidently, with her head held high, into the Burrow.












Thanks goes out to by beta reader Asphyxiated, who helped me clean the mess up!

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!


Wedding Bliss and Farewell Dances


The morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright. The entire Weasley family, minus Bill, Harry and Hermione had spent most of the morning helping Mrs. Weasley transform the backyard and garden into a magical paradise for the wedding. Mr. Weasley and Charlie transfigured nearly a hundred small stones into rows of white chairs lining a satin roll of cloth (previously an old potato sack), which was serving as an aisle. Mrs. Weasley was muttering an incantation that Harry had never before heard to cause beautiful flowers to erupt from the ground and climb over a trellis where the vows were to be said. Fred and George were assigned the task of setting up the dance floor, though they appeared to be trying it out more than setting it up. The girls were decorating the circular dinner tables that surrounded the dance floor with the elaborate settings that Fleur had picked out. (She had spent most of the previous day ensuring that Hermione and Ginny knew how to properly set tables.) This left the task of cleaning the garden to Ron and Harry, which Ron was most aggrieved by because this was the only task you couldn’t do with magic.


“De-gnoming,” he grumbled under his breath. “Ginny can’t even legally do magic yet and she gets to set the tables!” Ron flung a gnome that had just bitten his finger with probably more force than was exactly necessary. “I could have set the table in about thirty seconds!”


“True, but Fleur didn’t spend a whole afternoon teaching you which fork to eat your salad with,” Harry rightfully pointed out, painfully stealing a glance in Ginny’s direction. Harry thought she looked adorable as she screwed up her face, obviously trying to remember whether Fleur had told her to set side plates on the left or the right.


By the time the outside of the Weasley house was set to rights, the members of the household were left with only a few hours to get ready; meaning, the chaos the house usually endured rose to an all-time high. Hiding in Ron’s room, Harry and Ron could hear all the commotion echoing up from downstairs.


“Ginny, I have no idea where your dress shoes are!” Mrs. Weasley shouted at her frantic daughter. Harry could hear Ginny knocking something over and then screaming, “Found them! Found them!” before running back up the stairs.


“Mum! How do you tie these things?” Fred’s voice asked causally about the bow ties that Fleur insisted they wear, causing Mrs. Weasley to let out a hassled sounding sigh.


“Arthur!” Harry and Ron heard a resounding crash followed by a strangled scream.


“Who left the coat rack in the middle of the floor?” Mr. Weasley bellowed up the stairs.


Harry heard a door open, followed by Ginny’s voice. “Sorry, Dad!” she shouted as her door quickly slammed shut again.


Ron chuckled to himself as he tended to the finishing touches on his black dress robes. “Wonder how Hermione’s handling the commotion. I haven’t heard her voice in a while now.”


“I’m sure she’s fine,” Harry replied distractedly, lying on his cot as he had finished dressing over half and hour ago. “She’s stayed here plenty of times.” Harry didn’t notice Ron’s nervousness regarding his appearance. He continued to flip through the pages of the Quidditch magazine he was perusing, which wasn’t keeping his mind off Ginny nearly as well as he had hoped it would. He was dreading the moment she walked down the aisle, knowing that she would be the most beautiful girl there, and knowing he had to pretend as though he didn’t notice.


“Boys! Get down here now! The guests are starting to arrive!” Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs. Ron and his brothers were ushers for the wedding. Their job was to get everyone into their seats before the ceremony started. Mrs. Weasley had asked if Harry minded helping them; which, of course, he didn’t, even though he had no idea what to do with himself at a wedding.


“Coming, Mum!” Ron shouted through the open door as he made his way towards the stairs with one last backwards glance towards the mirror.


~*~


Being an usher wasn’t nearly as difficult as Harry thought it might be. As the guests arrived, he asked, “Are you guests of the bride or the groom?” Guests of the bride were seated on the left; guests of the groom were seated on the right. The front two rows on each side were reserved for the bridal party and close family. Harry was starting to get used to the idea of offering his arm to the arriving guests when Hermione arrived. The commotion in the house earlier had obviously not affected Hermione’s dressing abilities. Her hair was twisted smoothly into an elegant knot with tendrils left to fall softly about her face. She was wearing new pink dress robes, which definitely flattered her. If Harry thought Hermione had looked beautiful, it was no comparison to what Ron was obviously thinking. He dropped the arm of the girl he was escorting halfway down the aisle and rushed back to greet Hermione.


“Hermione, you look...beautiful…” Ron stumbled over his words and cast his eyes downward as he trailed off, the tips of his ears going pink.


“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione returned coyly. “You look very handsome yourself.” Ron’s chest visibly swelled. His eyes only for Hermione, he completely disregarded his seating responsibilities as the line of guests started piling up behind her.


“C’mon Ron,” Fred scolded cheerily, taking the arm of a pretty French girl who was waiting behind Hermione.


“Yes, Ronnikins,” George continued, winking, “escort Miss Granger and get back here. The wedding’s about to start.”


Harry had made his way over to welcome his friend, when a voice he dimly remembered interrupted his greeting.


“Herm-own-ninny?” the voice from halfway down the line of guests caused Ron’s jaw to drop.


“Viktor?” Hermione spun so quickly she almost fell over. Harry couldn’t decide whether her expression was ecstatic or crestfallen. Her jaw dropped, just as Ron’s had, and she was staring unbelievingly at the person standing behind her.


“Careful, Miss Granger,” warned Professor McGonagall poking out from behind Krum, the edges of her mouth uncharacteristically twitching upwards, “it’s Professor Krum now.”


Hermione’s mouth worded soundlessly for a moment as she shot a look from Professor McGonagall to Krum before she managed to squeak out, “Really? Congratulations Viktor…uh, I mean, Professor...Krum.”


“Viktor, please, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum responded with what Harry could only assume was a smile. He was taller than Harry remembered, and definitely broader. But his face still appeared to have that surly expression, even when smiling. The musicians were just about to start as Krum reached for Hermione’s arm. “Dance vith me later? I haff to speak vith you.” Krum released Hermione as he turned to be ushered towards his seat by Charlie.


Hermione turned slowly towards the row of seats with a hurried glance towards Ron. Harry noticed that Ron looked anything but happy. With a scowl, he offered Hermione his arm and led her down the aisle, followed by Harry, to seats in the second row. Hermione looked back at Harry with a look that clearly communicated Help!


“See you guys after the wedding,” Ron mumbled dejectedly before turning and stomping down the aisle to usher the remaining people into their seats.


“Ron,” Hermione ventured, worriedly turning in her chair. Ron either didn’t hear her, or he ignored her, because he continued his march back up the aisle.


“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” Hermione started, wringing her hands. “Why today? Of all days, why today?” Hermione dropped her face into her hands. “And why no warning?” she continued, though now more muffled. “How could no one tell me? Fleur must have known Viktor and I were…” here Hermione trailed off, blushing.


“Fleur probably invited Krum because of the Tri-wizard Tournament,” Harry replied thoughtfully, but was cut off with a look from Hermione.


“Well, obviously!” she returned maddeningly, her head shooting out of her hands. “But how could no one tell me! What were Bill and Fleur thinking?”


“Does what you said about Ron at my aunt and uncle’s house still go, Hermione?” Harry asked seriously, trying a different tack.


“Of course it does,” Hermione snapped back. “Did you think my seeing Viktor again would just sweep me off my feet and make me forget about Ron?” Hermione asked, irritation flooding her voice. Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his laughter. “Just what is so funny?” Hermione demanded. “This is serious, Ron is going to...he’ll...” but Harry was laughing so hard now he couldn’t hear the rest of Hermione’s speech. “What?” she almost shouted at him.


Harry controlled his laughter because people were starting to stare at them. “It’s just, well, this could only happen to you and Ron.” Hermione’s face broke and she giggled reluctantly.


“I guess that’s true,” she said exasperated, leaning back into her chair. “But, what a pain in the - ”


“Hermione!” Harry interjected, pretending to be aghast.


“Well, it is!” she shot back, just as the procession started.



~*~



Harry couldn’t remember much of the wedding ceremony. He recalled Mrs. Weasley being escorted down the aisle on Fred’s arm, followed closely by Gabrielle on George’s arm. Harry could remember Gabrielle waving shyly in his direction. He knew that the best man, Charlie, must have escorted Fleur’s mother down the aisle. And, he knew that shortly afterwards Fleur and her father would have followed. He knew at some point the vows must have been said because shortly afterwards Hermione jabbed him in the rib and hissed, “Close your mouth and stand up! The ceremony is over!” He dimly recalled standing as the wedding procession made its happy way back up the aisle, led by the new Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley. But in all honesty, the moment Ginny came into view, the occurrence of the coming events was wiped completely from his conscious mind.


Ginny floated down the aisle on the arm of her brother Ron. Her pale gold dress robes hugged her form in a very appealing way, accentuating every curve. Her brilliant red hair was loosely pinned back, and the tresses that were escaping curled softly unto her shoulders. Harry felt as though he had been robbed of his breath. Tight bands wove through his chest and his heart ached as his eyes compelled him to stare at what he was sure was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Attempting to force thoughts, which he was sure her family members would not approve of, out of his mind; Harry was oblivious to the vows being spoken before him.


“Harry! Harry!” Hermione had grabbed Harry’s arm and was attempting to steer him through the crowd towards their table at the reception area.


“Is it over?” he asked, confused.


“Yes. Weren’t you paying attention?” Hermione asked, clearly amused. “Or should I say, weren’t you paying attention to the wedding? It was obvious you were paying close attention to something,” she added smugly, barely concealing her satisfaction.


Harry looked over at Hermione sheepishly. “She did look gorgeous,” he said quietly, not making eye contact.


“You know, it wouldn’t be all that suspicious, a dance or two…” Hermione returned suggestively.


Harry swallowed hard, “If she were close to me...in my arms...” He gulped. “No, definitely not.”


“Really, Harry,” Hermione snorted, “you are such a prat.”


“Oh hello, Viktor!” Harry said to no one in particular as he glanced over Hermione’s shoulder.


Hermione jumped up and spun around, finding Krum already over at the bar chatting with Professor Sprout. Harry laughed heartily as Hermione glared up at him. “Point made,” she mumbled as she reluctantly grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him over to their table.


~*~


Harry and Hermione sat themselves at one of the back corner tables. Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the wedding party were seated at the largest front table, facing the dance floor. Harry could just make out Ron’s worried and furtive glances towards Hermione from where he was sitting.


“Herm-own-ninny.” This time it really was Krum speaking from just over Hermione’s shoulder.


“Hello, Viktor,” Hermione began brightly, glancing nervously at the head table. Ron was thankfully focusing on the appetizer, which had just been served.


“Her-own-ninny, could I haff a vord?” Krum asked, inclining his head toward the nearby garden.


“Of course, Viktor. Why don’t you sit down,” Hermione gestured to the empty chair next to her with one hand, while grabbing Harry’s hand under the table with the other, preventing the escape he had just been planning. Hermione quickly glanced imploring at Harry.


Krum looked slightly put out. “I vas hoping….” but he gave up on this sentence and decided to take the seat Hermione had offered to him. “How haff you been, Herm-own-ninny? You look beautiful tonight.”


“Very well, thank you,” Hermione said, slightly more formally than Harry knew Krum would have preferred. Harry, realizing he was going to have to sit through this possibly long (and definitely uncomfortable) conversation, began shoveling mouthfuls of the appetizer that had just materialized on his plate. “Congratulations again on your new job, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I’m assuming?” Hermione continued energetically.


“Yes. I applied a few weeks ago,” Krum’s eyes were now searching Hermione’s. “I vas most pleased vith Minerva McGonagall’s decision. I vas also most upset vith the news of Headmaster Dumbledore’s death,” Krum stopped to reach for Hermione’s hand, which she allowed him to take. “I am so sorry.”


A familiar, and unpleasant, pang hit Harry’s stomach at the mention of his headmaster’s recent death. He was sure it hit Hermione, too. “Thank you, Viktor,” Hermione responded quietly; her eyes cast downwards, “it…it was...” Hermione trailed off, unable to continue.


For the first time, Harry was aware of just how much history Hermione and Krum shared. He had always suspected that they were more than just friends during his forth year of Hogwarts; but, he assumed it had stopped at just that. Harry never considered the possibility that those long letters Hermione constantly penned to Krum contained any feelings of significance.


“Vhat I vanted to ask you, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum continued, once again seeking her downcast eyes, “is what should I tell Minerva…”


Hermione drew her hand from under Krum’s. “Viktor, we wrote about this over a year ago. We said we’re just friends. There is nothing to tell Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said softly, but firmly, meeting Krum’s eyes.


“Ve veren’t alvays just friends, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum responded, a brusque grin emerging. “Minerva realizes this.”


“But, that’s what we are now,” Hermione replied fondly. “We are good friends, but just friends.”


Krum nodded solemnly. “As you vish, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum replied quietly as he stood to depart. “Save me von dance, for the old times?”


Hermione nodded, smiling.


~*~


Harry and Hermione finished their meal in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and each glancing furtively from time to time towards a member of the wedding party. Ron had appeared to have finally finished his meal just as the music started up again inviting the dancers onto the floor. Hermione quickly excused herself and hurried over to his side, leaving Harry alone at the table. Harry couldn’t blame her for wanting to speak with Ron as quickly as possible, he had the same desire to approach Ginny, and he was trying very hard to control it.


“Hello, dear,” came a sympathetic voice Harry knew well.


“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry returned, putting on his best smile, even though his insides felt completely deflated. “The wedding is wonderful.”


“Oh, I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she returned excitedly, taking the empty seat next to Harry. “Though, perhaps some dancing…” Mrs. Weasley suggested slowly, inclining her eyes towards her only daughter. “It looks as though Ginny is free at the moment.” So far, Harry had painfully noticed, Ginny had been the life of the dance floor. Harry gave up counting how many dance partners she had after the third French chap.


“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of blokes who’ll be asking her in no time,” Harry was trying hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice; he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. He knew Ginny was just putting on her best face for her brother’s wedding; however it still killed him to see her in the arms of all those other men.


“But, we both know who she’d rather be dancing with...” Mrs. Weasley started tentatively.


“And, who’d rather be dancing with her,” Mr. Weasley, appearing from behind a corner interjected, a knowing smile on his face. He handed Harry a tall glass of fire whiskey.


Harry found himself yet again amazed at how unsuccessfully he had managed to hide his feelings. He thought about insisting that he had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew they wouldn’t believe him. “I’m just trying to keep her safe,” he said quietly, examining his spoon.


“We know that, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, softly clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder.


“And we also know what it is to be afraid to lose someone you love,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “We have fought this war before...” Mrs. Weasley stopped for a deep breath. “And, we have entered this war again, this time with practically our entire family fighting.” Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered the boggart that Mrs. Weasley tried to rid the Black house of only two years ago. He remembered her weeping as the boggart shape-shifted into the various members of her family, Harry included, portraying them all dead…


“We are all in danger, Harry,” Mr. Weasley picked up, “and we would be whether we knew you or not.”


“We love you as one of our own, and no matter what you decide, you will always be welcome as one of our family. We just thought we should remind you of that, dear,” Mrs. Weasley hugged him before putting on an enthusiastic smile. “Now, Arthur, I believe you owe me a dance.”


Harry watched from his table as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rotated in the center of the dance floor to a slow song Harry had never heard before. He noticed Ginny dancing with yet another random French idiot off in the corner. Bill and Fleur appeared glued together, giggling like children and gracefully spinning. Harry noticed Ron and Hermione talking in another corner; Krum was nowhere in sight. Though Ron still looked stiff, he had a grin on his face and Harry was sure Hermione put it there. Harry smiled in spite of himself. Although he was miserable without Ginny, he was happy the Weasley family could have this night together. He was happy they could enjoy a moment of peace before the war swept in and tumbled their lives again. At that, he rose from the table and made his way over to Fleur’s younger sister, Gabrielle.


“May I have this dance?” Harry asked the younger girl that had shyly waved to him during the wedding ceremony. She immediately obliged.


~*~


Harry danced with several of Fleur’s friends, Gabrielle twice, Hermione, and even Mrs. Weasley before he decided to turn in for the night. Hermione and Ron still appeared on tenterhooks, but Harry suspected that with a few more glasses of fire whiskey they would come into their own. Hermione had skillfully avoided Krum since their last conversation and Harry was sure Ron had appreciated it. Harry made his way up through the garden and into the Burrow, allowing himself to sink into the living room couch and smiling as he relived images of Ginny from that night that were now attacking his brain.


“Ronald Weasley, you are a complete and utter git!” Hermione screamed shrilly, pushing through the Burrow’s kitchen door, her hair flying out of the elegant knot it was twisted into. Harry sank deeper into the couch, hoping not to be noticed.


“Is that so?” Ron demanded angrily, throwing the door that was threatening to collide with him in a back swing crashing into the adjoining wall. “I’m not the one throwing myself around like some sort of scarlet…”


“Excuse me! Who do you think you are, calling me…” Hermione rounded on him angrily, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not a child, Ron!” Hermione screamed, throwing her head back. “Or, hadn’t you noticed?”


“Vicky certainly has,” Ron replied heatedly.


“And what does that matter?” Hermione responded coldly.


“What right does he have to…to…” Ron continued, sputtering nonsensically.


“Right! Right?” Hermione screamed derisively. “Just what right do you think you have?” Hermione continued her angry testimonial. “Just one dance and you explode! One respectful, tasteful, public dance! I can only imagine what you’d do if you walked in on anything more-” but here Hermione broke off, perhaps aware that she may have gone too far.


“So, that’s what you’re planning! Something more?” Ron returned scathingly. “How nice for Vicky,” he added maliciously.


“Don’t you dare try to make it appear as though I’m looking for some...some...”


“Senseless shagging?” Ron interjected viciously.


Hermione opened her mouth to retort, angry red blotches covering her face, but no words came out. Instead, she turned on her heel and attempted to exit via the stairs when Ron caught her hand. Both stopped instantaneously and Harry could hear their heavy breathing.


“Hermione, please…” Harry noticed, with a turn in his stomach, that Ron was pleading.


“Ron,” Hermione wiped a stray tear from her cheek before turning to face him, her voice sounding strangled, “just what rights do you want to have with me?” Hermione seemed to be begging for Ron to answer.


Ron faltered, breaking eye contact and appearing as though he were searching about the room frantically. He dropped her hand.


Hermione released an exhausted sigh as she turned back towards the stairwell.


“Hermione!” Ron sounded desperate. He closed the gap between them in one stride, shakily placing his hands on her bare shoulders. He gently turned her to face him. Hermione didn’t bother to hide the tears that were falling from her eyes as she slowly raised her chin.


“Yes, Ron?” she whispered.


Hermione gasped softly as Ron covered her mouth with his own. Harry looked away pointedly as Hermione began softly responding to Ron’s kisses. Her hands migrated to his hair as his arms snaked around her waist…


“Harry?” Ginny’s small form came bursting through the kitchen door. “Oh!” she stopped suddenly at finding her brother and best friend in such a compromising situation. “Hi, Ron…Hermione…”


Ron had spun suddenly at Ginny’s rushed entrance as Hermione buried her reddened face into the back of Ron’s robes. Ron mouthed soundlessly and Hermione said, in an extremely muffled voice, “Hello, Ginny…”


“I was just looking for Harry,” Ginny continued, giggling furiously. “I’ll just be...going…” Harry could hear her laughter as soon as the door swung shut. He wanted to immediately run to her, but he would rather be at the end of a thousand of her Bat-Bogey Hexes than have Ron and Hermione realize what he had just witnessed.


Ron slowly spun back to face Hermione, his head hung. It looked as though Hermione had finally gone speechless. Harry made a mental note, all you had to do to get Hermione to stop lecturing was have Ron snog her senseless.


“Hermione, I…” Ron started in a strangled voice, “I...I’m…sorry, I shouldn’t have done...”


“Ron,” Hermione whispered.


He swallowed hard as he looked up hopefully, meeting her gaze.


“What took you so long?” she asked, laughing softly, her hands once again playing in his hair.


“I…what?” Ron began, frantically searching her eyes in disbelief. “You mean…”


Hermione spared him the trouble of finding the words he was so desperately searching for by kissing him softly on the lips. “I’ve waited a long time to be able to do that,” she breathed, her eyes held closed as Ron hands returned to her sides. “That is, I mean…” Hermione’s eyes flashed in self-doubt, “if this is something you’d want to…keep doing…” she finished weakly, allowing her eyes to stray towards her shoes.


“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop,” Ron replied eagerly, wrapping his arms tighter around Hermione. Her face shot upward in a smile.


After several more minutes, which Harry hoped to erase from his memory, Hermione thankfully suggested a walk through the garden. The moment the doorway was clear, Harry made his way to find Ginny. As he ran past the garden, mercifully unnoticed, he wondered why Ginny wanted to speak with him. Harry was still discomfited with their last conversation. He felt guilty that he hadn’t told her anything and miserable that he couldn’t comfort her; but he conscience still told him he was doing the right thing.


Harry was just coming up to the dance floor, which had drastically emptied since he had last left it, when he saw her. Ginny was alone, standing across the floor by the bandstand of self-playing musical instruments, sipping a glass of wine. She still looked beautiful. Her eyes had just locked onto his as Mrs. Weasley quietly ushered Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Charlie (the only guests still remaining) towards the house. Harry gulped as he crossed the empty dance floor towards Ginny.


“You still haven’t danced with me you know,” Ginny whispered tenderly as he reached her.


Harry said nothing as he starred at her. The starlight was reflecting in her eyes, mesmerizing him. Without warning, the band instruments began a slow, swaying tune. Harry grinned inwardly, assuming one of the departing guests was trying to tell him something.


“It looks like there’s still one more dance,” Ginny said hopefully, extending her arms towards him. He had no choice but to allow his aching arms to embrace her. Harry had never before enjoyed dancing, but he had never before danced with Ginny. His heart was beating rapidly, despite the slow melody they were swaying to, as he inhaled her flowery scent.


“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” Ginny asked quietly, her head buried in his shoulder.


Harry nodded slowly. He wasn’t surprised Ginny knew this; she was able to read him so well.


“I wanted to say goodbye,” Ginny said, her voice faltering. “Say goodbye to Ron and Hermione for me? Last time I saw them, they were rather busy,” Ginny giggled weakly.


They spun slowly in silence for a moment, each relishing the closeness that they would not feel again for an unknown length of time. The song ended softly and Harry broke apart from Ginny. Her words stopped him as he turned to leave.


“By the way, Harry,” Ginny started hastily, apparently not wanting the moment to end, “Hogwarts is officially closed. As of a few hours ago,” she added in response to his inquiring look. “Professor McGonagall told me just a little while ago. Her plan is still to use the manor they located near Hogsmeade. So, I’ll be there within a week if you want to write…” Ginny finished despondently, the shine dying from her eyes as tears advanced to replace it.


“Why so soon?” Harry asked, diverting his gaze from hers. “Term never starts until September first.”


“Professor McGonagall asked most of us to return early to help set up the manor,” Ginny shrugged, “There’s not much I can do from here…”


“Be careful, Ginny,” Harry said tenderly, moving closer to her. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss goodbye. As their lips brushed, Harry felt a soft, yet resounding, vibration sweep through his body and warmth emanate from the small stone attached to a leather band that he now wore constantly around his neck. Ginny gasped softly as they both pulled away. He was sure she had felt it too, and he had a feeling they both knew what it meant, but he couldn’t find the words to voice it just now. Instead, whispering goodbye, he turned from her and started his walk towards the Burrow.


“Oh, and Ginny,” Harry turned once more to face her, “of course I’ll write…”






A/N: So what did you think? Did you guess the effects of the Trocair Charm yet? Thanks goes out, once again, to my excellent beta reader Asphyxiated. As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading! ~ozma333

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!





Discoveries in the Potter Residence







“Really! Aren’t you two up yet?” Hermione hissed as she poked her head through Ron and Harry’s bedroom door. “Ronald!”





Ron’s head shot up immediately at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Bloody hell, Hermione!” he said, startled. “Don’t you ever knock?” Ron sat up rather quickly and attempted to tame his wild, red hair.





“Honestly!” Hermione huffed, trying unsuccessfully to conceal a smile, as she began summoning Ron’s belongings into a duffel bag. “I did knock already but no one answered. I assumed you were both still sleeping.”





“Well, it’s not my fault I was up so late!” Ron returned, teasing her. Harry had retired from the wedding and already fallen asleep by the time Ron came to bed last night; he had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione didn’t make it to her room any earlier.





Hermione’s face took on a brilliant shade of red. She quickly glanced in Harry’s direction, who had turned to pretend to stuff more items into his already packed bag, as she shot back, “Just hurry up and get dressed! We still have to explain what we’re doing to your parents.”





Ron yawned with a smile on his face; but, with another look from Hermione, rose quickly from the bed to find fresh clothing.





“I’ll go see if your parents are awake,” Harry said, deciding to leave Ron and Hermione alone for a few minutes. He was happy that they seemed so comfortable around each other after last night; Harry was slightly worried that they might be acting a bit awkward this morning. But, he reminded himself; he wasn’t supposed to know about their private snogging session yet. He wanted to give them time alone to sort it out for themselves before either of them approached him.





Harry walked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley hovering over the stove, the smell of sausage just tinting the air. Mr. Weasley was slowly sipping his morning coffee, perusing the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.





“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly from over her shoulder. “You’re up early,” she added before turning back to the sausages.





“Morning,” Harry said, his stomach starting to churn with nervousness. He suddenly wished he had waited for Ron and Hermione.





“Take a seat, Harry,” Arthur absently waved towards one of the worn kitchen chairs while still scanning the Prophet’s headlines.





“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said after taking the seat Mr. Weasley had indicated, “I have to tell you something.”





Mrs. Weasley, her back still turned from him, dropped her spatula unto the countertop. Harry saw her attempting to wring the shakiness out of her hands.





“When are you leaving?” Molly asked tentatively, her voice breaking. Mr. Weasley was looking intently at Harry; his gaze was neither accusatory nor angry.





“You know?” Harry croaked. “You know I’m leaving?”





Mr. Weasley sighed heavily as he slowly put the paper aside. “We know you feel you should be doing…something…well, because of Dumbledore-” Arthur locked eyes with Harry. “We know you don’t want to sit back and let others do it for you.”





“It’s not just that, Mr. Weasley…” Harry started, feeling they had a right to know why he was leaving, and why he was taking their son with him.





“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted him softly as she turned to face him, her eyes swimming with tears. “Harry, we know what this war has done to you. You have every right to be angry, to want revenge. But, going after You-Know-Who yourself! It’s too dangerous! It’s foolish!” Mrs. Weasley said with a trace of panic as she moved to sit next to him. “We know we’re not your parents and we can’t stop you, but please…”





“It’s not just that,” Harry said again firmly, wanting them to understand his intentions. “You have the right to know this, but I’m asking you to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourselves.” Mr. Weasley, then Mrs. Weasley, nodded slowly. Harry took a deep breath and thought about how best to explain.





“Scrimgeour was right last Christmas; Dumbledore was working on something very important before he died.” Harry fought to keep his emotions in check. “Dumbledore trusted me with what he was doing and asked that I trust Ron and Hermione with it as well. He told me how to do it, how to end this war once and for all.” Harry looked intently from Mrs. Weasley to Mr. Weasley. “And that is what I’m going to do, I’m going stop Voldemort,” Harry finished with more fierceness than he intended.





“And we’re going with him,” Ron interjected, looking very determined as he walked into the kitchen, Hermione in tow.





“We’re sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said softly, searching the older woman’s eyes. “This is something we have to do.”





To the surprise of everyone in the kitchen, Mr. Weasley laughed. “What a family we have raised, eh Molly?” His voice quieted and became serious as he took in the three adults confronting him in his own kitchen. “I’m scared for you Ron, for all of you, but I’m proud of the three of you as well.”





Mrs. Weasley looked back towards her stove and Harry noticed her passing the edge of her sleeve over her eyes. “I wish you were still young enough for me to tell you what to do,” she said quietly, turning to gaze at her youngest son. She seemed to be struggling with what she was about to say. “But, those days have passed. You are an adult now and, though I hate to say this, I will support whatever your decision may be.”





Ron gulped before crossing the kitchen and enveloping his mother in a hug. He was now much taller than her and she sobbed openly on his shoulder. It was several moments before either let go.





“We’ll be careful,” Hermione whispered to the Weasleys. “I promise we won’t rush into anything without knowing what we’re doing first.” Mrs. Weasley smiled weakly in Hermione’s direction.





“I don’t suppose you can tell us what it is you’re planning?” Mr. Weasley asked hopefully, eyeing each of the trio.





“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley, no one but the three of us knows. And, I think it’s safer that way,” Harry responded, hating himself for not being able to say anything more.





“So, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley started tremulously, “you’ve not told Ginny?”





“No,” Harry replied firmly. Mrs. Weasley heaved a sigh of relief. “No one but the three of us will know anything of what we’re doing. And you can let the Order of the Phoenix know I said so as well.”





Mr. Weasley nodded in response. “I’m sure Ginny was pleased with that,” he added, chuckling and shaking his head.





Harry grinned in spite of himself. “Actually, no she wasn’t.”





Mrs. Weasley gave a very watery laugh before crushing all three with a hug.





“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione started tentatively, “would you mail this to my Mum and Dad for me. I don’t know when we’ll be settled…” Hermione trailed off as she pressed a seal parchment into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched hand.





“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley returned kindly. “But, would you rather I take it to them myself, and explain everything to them?”





Hermione’s eyes shot upwards in gratitude. “That would mean so much,” Hermione replied in a choked voice. “I was so afraid to tell them, so afraid to leave after a fight…I don’t think they would have understood…” At this last comment, the tears Hermione had held so firmly until this point were threatening to fall.





Mrs. Weasley moved forward to console Hermione, but Ron grabbed her hand first. “It’s alright, Hermione,” he whispered as he pulled her into him and put his arm around her, she sniffled as she moved comfortably into Ron’s shoulder. Mrs. Weasley glanced quickly towards her husband. Harry made a point to avoid eye contact with either of Ron’s parents.





“We’ll take care of it, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said softly, moving to Mr. Weasley’s side and still eyeing her son suspiciously. “Now you three should go. We’ll explain it to everyone during breakfast. I daresay you’d have a time of explaining it once everyone is awake.” The trio turned to the door when Mrs. Weasley started. “Where will you be staying? Do you have a place to stay?” she asked hurriedly, just realizing that they hadn’t mentioned it already.





“Actually, not yet,” Harry turned to respond. “We will be camping for tonight and then…” Harry trailed off, realizing that he had not planned much after that.





“We’ll let you know when we’ve settled,” Hermione added. Harry hoped she had thought further ahead than he had; actually knowing Hermione, he was pretty sure she had.





Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Remember, you are all always welcomed here.”





All three nodded gratefully in return, though Harry knew they would never take her up on the offer. It would put the Weasley family in more danger than he cared to take responsibility for.





Harry left the Burrow that early morning with a heavy heart. With one last fleeting glance, he looked up towards Ginny’s window. The curtain fluttered quickly and he thought he just caught of flash of brilliantly red hair before it disappeared.





“Where to, mate?” Ron asked as soon as they reached the edge of the garden, trying to lighten the tension.





“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry returned quietly, willing his eyes from Ginny’s window. “The town graveyard.” With a quick turn and a soft pop, Harry disappeared from the Burrow and from Ginny’s view.







~*~







The town of Godric’s Hollow was small and quiet as the late summer sun silently broke through the early morning mist. In a section of the town lined with small and uncoordinated homes, the town’s graveyard sat back from the road, nestled amongst many old and twisted pine trees. An old church was settled next to the graveyard, though its appearance suggested that it had been out of use for some time. The stonewalls were intact and the dawning light was sifting through the stained glass windows, but the hinges on the front door were rusted with disuse and the path leading to it was overgrown with brush. Harry had just found the small, pine needle covered path that led past the church and to the graveyard when Ron and Hermione appeared behind him.





“We’re right here if you need us, mate,” Ron said to Harry in hushed tones. His quieted voice spoke volumes.





Harry reached the rusted iron gate that surrounded the cemetery as a lump rose in his throat. He slowly pushed open the gate, the loud squeaking of forgotten hinges waking several birds and causing them to noisily take flight. The shifting dawn had not yet reached this discarded section of Godric’s Hollow and the gravestones appeared as empty black slabs.





Harry walked slowly, carefully, through the maze of headstones. Some of the indiscernible stones were crumbling and broken from neglect; some were overgrown with weeds. As the light began slowly and painstakingly to break through the shifting pine trees, broken and tangled in the swaying needles, one ray escaped and managed to cast its light directly unto a small cluster of headstones. Harry froze as his eyes traveled over the grave of his parents. One headstone, placed directly between two graves.





James and Lily Potter
Died October 31, 1981
Devoted Friends, Brave Soldiers, and Loving Parents
We will never forget your sacrifices





Harry slowly approached the grave of his parents, noticing with a start a small bunch of old, rotten flowers propped against the side of the stone. Secured with a rock, a small piece of parchment, bearing what suspiciously looked like a smudged dog print, sat beneath the bouquet. He smiled softly as he took a seat next to what he assumed was his godfather’s memento to his parents.





“Hi Mum, Dad,” he whispered in the general direction of the tombstone. “Sorry it’s taken so long for me to come and visit.” Harry felt more clearly than ever the sense of loneliness that comes with losing one’s family. He had a powerful urge to disclose to them everything about his life, although he knew that the graves contained only their bodies and not their spirits. “The world is pretty messed up right now,” he started, feeling the urge to continue speaking. “The war has continued from where it left off sixteen years ago. Everyone is panicking. But,” he paused to wipe the forming tears from his eyes, “we have a plan; it will end differently this time,” he said with a confidence he was trying to build. Harry looked up into the newly lit sky. “I just wish you could be here. I wish you could have met Ron, Hermione. Ginny. And…I’m good at Quidditch, Dad. Lupin said you’d have been proud.” Harry’s tone was soft as his hands began to tremble. He felt his shoulders shake as he exhaled and allowed himself to release all the emotion that had been pent up for so many years. His overwhelming sense of loneliness was tearing a hole through his chest…





“Harry,” Hermione whispered softly as she put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. He turned his face towards her as she sank to her knees and embraced him. Harry allowed himself to sink into her arms, realizing that the two people standing next to him were as close to him as any family ever could be.





“Thank you, Hermione, Ron,” Harry said quietly after many minutes had elapsed, diverting his eyes as he released Hermione from his grip and helped her to her feet. “You are the best friends…family…I could ever…”





Hermione interrupted warmly, “We know, Harry, we love you, too.”





Harry smiled as he wrapped his arms around both his friends’ shoulders and led them from the graveyard. He turned just once, as he reached the rusty gate, to smile back on the grave of his parents.







~*~







The sun had just fully risen by the time the trio made it out to the road that had led them to the church and the cemetery. Harry was inhaling deep breaths of cool, summer morning air as he, Hermione, and Ron strolled wordlessly down the strip of asphalt.





“I wonder which house they lived in,” Harry murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular.





“Do you have any idea where it is, or what it looked like?” Hermione asked, peering about as though she was expecting to see ‘Potter Residence’ plastered on the side of one of the un-orderly homes.





“No, no idea,” Harry responded, though he was enjoying the fact that his parents lived someplace like this. The houses were all mismatched and most lawns needed trimming. It was as unlike Privet Drive as Harry had always imagined it would be.





“I expect it would still be hidden, wouldn’t it,” Ron responded vaguely, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he kicked a stone along with his trainer. “The Fidelius Charm and all that?”





“Not necessarily,” Hermione added thoughtfully. “Harry, was your parents’ home protected with the charm, or were they?”





“I dunno,” Harry responded hopefully. “If they were protected by the charm then would I be able to see their gravesites?”





“I suppose so. Firstly, the graves wouldn’t be protected, they would have been. Also, the charm may have been lifted after…” Hermione trailed off.





“So, if it was Harry’s parents, and not their home, that was protected with the Fidelius Charm, then we could actually find the house?” Ron asked, gathering his thoughts.





An older man in flannel pyjamas and a dressing gown had just exited the house they were passing on the right, carrying with him a large rubbish bag. He stopped suddenly at the sight of the three young adults casually strolling down the road at the break of day.





“Excuse me,” Harry addressed the old man, a flame of hope igniting, “Do you happen to know where the Potter house is?”





The old man looked slightly taken aback. “Potter house? Never heard of anyone by that name around here,” he said, shrugging pleasantly enough. “Sorry.”





“How about an old, destroyed cottage,” Harry continued, refusing to give up just yet. “Are there any old, run down cottages around here?”





“Plenty of those,” the man responded. “There’s one just around the corner,” he pointed over his shoulder vaguely. “Are you three looking to buy?”





“Not just now,” Hermione responded, glancing in the direction the old man had pointed. “Thank you for your time.”





Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way around the block and, just as the pyjama clad man had indicated, an old, run down cottage came into sight. It looked just as overgrown as the church and cemetery had. The sun, being fully above the tree line now, was shining spottily through the dirty, broken windows. A stained ‘For Sale’ sign hung crooked from the shards of what was once a fence. Harry approached the front door with trepidation. This time he summoned Ron and Hermione to follow him straight off.





The lock on the front door was broken and Harry pushed the door open with ease. The room he was facing must have been a living room of sorts, but the walls were buckled outward. It looked as though a mini explosion had erupted from the center of the room. Harry walked through slowly, knowing this is where his father had been killed.





He entered a hallway just off the main room; three closed doors stood facing him. Harry slowly eased open the door to what was once his nursery. This room saw even more damage than the previous one. The wall directly across from the door had a giant black mark etched into it. It looked as though the realtors had once tried to cover it with paint, but the mark had refused to remain hidden. Harry realized with a pang that Voldemort’s shattered soul escaped through that wall. In the center of the room lay an old, shattered crib. Harry fingered the bars gently.





“Harry,” Hermione gasped softly, pointing to the interior of the crib.





Harry’s downcast eyes shot up at her exclamation. In the middle of the crib, a large, brown package was beginning to materialize. On the very top of the package lay a small folded note with a distinctly recognizable spidery handwriting sprawled across it. Harry ripped open the letter without hesitation.





Harry,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. I am truly sorry for your loss. I am writing this after we have already had our final discussion. I leave believing I have dealt the task to capable hands.

This is advice I have given you before, and though I do not doubt your memory salvage abilities, I am forced to remind you: It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. You have fought many battles in your young life, and heeded my advice exceptionally well. I ask you to continue to do this, even if I might not be there to remind you.

Remember Harry, death is but an adventure to a mind organized as well as my own. Though I cannot tell in this letter, I’m sure I’m having a magnificent time. Send my greetings to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger for me; I am sure they are standing right behind you.

With greatest affection and sincere friendship,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

P.S. The package contains items that may be of use, should you choose to utilize them.

P.P.S. This could possibly be a charming residence, should Miss Granger decide to assist you in renovating it.

P.P.P.S. I’m sure your parents would not mind.





Harry smiled for the first time that morning. “Well, what do you think, Hermione?” he asked, laughing out loud. “Will you help me renovate this into a more,” Harry glanced back down at the letter, “’charming residence?’”





Hermione smiled broadly in return, her wand already in hand.







~*~







One week had passed since Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived in Godric’s Hollow. They had taken Dumbledore’s final advice to heart and rapidly transformed the broken down cottage that once housed Harry’s parents. Before anything else, Hermione suggested they perform the Fidelius Charm on the location of the house. Harry and Ron both agreed, though Harry insisted that he be the Secret-Keeper. He knew either Ron or Hermione would have offered and gladly accepted the responsibility; but, he felt it was his own duty to fulfill. The trio spent the first morning working on the spell, following Hermione’s flustered instructions, and by lunchtime they had secured their secret location. As soon as Harry disclosed the location of the house that Hermione was standing in front of, she quickly began re-decorating the interior. On top of that, she also located the realtors and arranged the legalities.





“Are you sure we didn’t have to pay anything for it, Hermione?” Harry had ventured to ask.





“Of course not,” she bustled in return, “besides, it is rightfully yours.”





Neither Ron nor Harry chose to investigate Hermione’s methods.





Ron had been quick to inform Harry of his relationship with Hermione. The day they arrived in Godric’s Hollow he had sent Hermione to Diagon Alley to buy some necessary supplies while he approached Harry.





“So, where do you want to start?” Ron asked Harry, eyeing him nervously as he gestured to the upturned state of what was once a very nice living room.





“I dunno,” Harry responded, gazing around, “Hermione’s much better at this than I am.”





“You alright? With staying here, I mean,” Ron asked tentatively, following Harry’s gaze.





“I suppose. It’s what Dumbledore suggested, so…” Harry trailed off, circling back towards the former nursery. In the unwrapped brown package that Dumbledore had sent lay a pensieve and several small bottles containing what looked like swirling mist. “I’m glad he sent me these,” Harry said, fingering the bottles. He was sure were the memories he had visited with Dumbledore last term. “I’ll have to have you all see these, maybe there’s something I missed…”





“Yeah, right,” Ron responded vaguely, following Harry into the nursery.





“Ron, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, laughing. “You seem more upset to be here than I am.”





“What? Oh, no, it’s not that…”





“What then?” Harry asked, knowing full well the answer.





“It’s that…well…Harry, I know this may not be the best time, but…”





“Ron.”





“Right, well…” Ron mumbled incoherently. “Hermione and I…well…we sort of…”





“Finally!” Harry exclaimed as he thumped Ron on the back. Ron turned a considerable shade of red before grinning sheepishly back at Harry. “Took you long enough, mate.”





Ron wiped his forehead. “So, you’re alright with it then.”





“Of course!” Harry responded heartily, “I’m happy for the both of you. Just no snogging in front of me, yet. Alright?”





Ron nodded his head fervently.





“Good, because as happy as I am for you, Hermione is like my sister and that will take a little getting used to…”





Hermione arrived moments afterwards carrying several large bags. Ron rushed to grab the parcels from her and went to put them in the kitchen.





“Ron told me,” Harry said after greeting his friend. Hermione laughed.





“You have no idea how nervous he was to tell you!” she snorted. “But, I told him it would sound better coming from him. You’re still alright with it, right?” she asked, suddenly appearing nervous.





Harry put his arm around her as he led her to the kitchen. “Never happier.”





As the week flew by, their new home looked better and better. Hermione taught Ron and Harry a spell to reinforce the structure of the house; they had spent nearly the entire first afternoon doing so. As there were only two bedrooms in the small cottage, in addition to the nursery, Ron and Harry shared the master bedroom and Hermione claimed a smaller room just down the hall. Harry decided that the nursery should be turned into a study to house the pensieve and any other aids they might need. Try as she might, Hermione could not remove the stubborn black etching in the newly appointed study. After over an hour of attempting complicated cleansing charms, Harry suggested they simply cover the reminder with a large bookcase. Hermione agreed and quickly Apparated all the books she owned into the room, which gave it the appearance of a homey library.





“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed exasperated, “Why do you have so many of them?” Ron was staring into the former nursery in horror.





“I read them, obviously, Ronald!” Hermione replied in equal exasperation, hidden by a massive pile of literature.





Harry was relieved to notice that Ron and Hermione acted much the same as they always have, regardless of their recent status change. The bickering continued, only now Harry was thankfully not present for the apologies. Ron had definitely kept his word; Harry had yet to walk in on them during a snogging session.





The kitchen and the loo, though not the most modern by any means, were the least damaged. Hermione resumed her role as an excellent cook, though she insisted Ron and Harry clean the kitchen afterwards. Neither found the need to complain over the arrangement.





Their nights were spent in quiet conversation as the renovations continued. The trio resumed their endless speculation of the whereabouts of the remaining Horcruxes. Hermione had painstakingly reviewed all of the memories that Harry had perused last term with Dumbledore and was reluctant to commit to any new theories. Harry was beginning to feel restless. The location of the Horcruxes and the mysterious R.A.B. plagued him every night and, on many occasions, flung him into unrelenting dreams.







~*~









“Well, this place is finally livable,” Ron sighed in exhaustion as he flung himself next to Hermione on the newly Transfigured couch in the redone living room.





“It’s actually quite nice,” Hermione commented from behind the book in which she was immersed. “Though I still wish there was another bathroom available,” she continued, glaring at Ron over her book.





Ron’s face went red as he slouched lower into the couch. “I swear I didn’t know you were in there…” he mumbled. Hermione snorted.





“I’m glad the house is set to rights,” Harry said as he entered the room carrying a large bottle, “but, I’m getting restless. I just wish we had an idea on where to go next!” Ron and Hermione knew he was talking about the Horcrux search. Despite never-ending conversations on the topic, none of them could figure out who R.A.B. was or where they should look for the next bit of Voldemort’s soul.





“Maybe if we took the night off,” Ron suggested hopefully, eyeing the large bottle Harry was carrying, “give it a rest for a minute…”





“Exactly what I was thinking, Ron,” Harry returned. “It’s been a long week,” he added quietly as he sat in a chair opposite the couple and raised his wand towards the kitchen. “Accio glasses!” he muttered and three small glasses flew from the kitchen towards him. “Hermione,” Harry said, levitating a glass of recently poured Firewhiskey towards the large book that Hermione was still hiding behind.





Hermione emerged from her book with a rueful look on her face. “I don’t know, Harry,” she started cautiously.





“Oh c’mon, Hermione!” Ron interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Harry’s had a hard week, we’ve been working non-stop on this house, and we still have no idea what to do next! Put down the book and enjoy a night off, what are you afraid of?”





“For your information, I’m not afraid of anything!” Hermione returned, shooting a nasty look towards Ron. Harry was already sipping his own Firewhiskey. “I just think we should stay focused!”





“We can’t be focused all the time,” Ron said exasperated, refusing to back down. Harry was actually starting to enjoy their bickering. It was entertaining to watch and he now knew that he would not have to participate in the reconciliation procedure. “Besides,” Ron continued, his tone softening, “it’s just the three of us here. What could happen?” Ron grabbed the glass that was still levitating in front of him and took one small sip of the Firewhiskey Harry produced. “Where’d you get this from anyway, Harry?”





“Fred and George. It was my birthday present,” Harry responded, pouring himself a second glass.





“Well, to Fred and George then!” Ron exclaimed, raising his glass in a toast.





Hermione peered at both Harry and Ron before accepting her own glass and muttering, “Fred and George.”





It took at least two more glasses before Hermione actually released the book she was insistent on holding. All three had loosened up considerably as they diligently avoided all conversations on the topic of Horcruxes and were reliving an assortment of adventures they had participated in while at Hogwarts.





“I really miss that place,” Hermione interjected wistfully, just having recovered from an unexpected fit of giggles.





“It’ll open again,” Ron said confidently, draining his glass. “It has to, once this mess is all over.”





“It would be funny to go back to that,” Hermione chuckled, resting her head on Ron’s shoulder, “after living here with the two of you.”





“S’not all that different,” Harry slurred, “well, I suppose Ron wouldn’t be barging into your bathroom there…”





Hermione let out an uncharacteristic peal of laughter as Ron’s face screwed up in embarrassment.





“I wonder how it is at the manor,” Hermione continued, laughing feebly, referring to the school Professor McGonagall had set up that summer. “Are they still separated into houses and years?” she asked, addressing Harry.





“Wouldn’t know,” Harry responded, burying his face in his Firewhiskey. “I haven’t written to Ginny, yet.”





“Probably not,” Ron said, unaware of how uncomfortable Harry seemed, “they can’t have that many students. Mum said the Daily Prophet publicized a list of students refusing to attend Hogwarts, she said the list was…”





Hermione interrupted Ron’s rambling with a shattering glass.





“Hermione! You alright?” Harry asked alarmed. His friend’s face had gone suddenly blank as her glass slipped through her fingers and smashed on the floor.





“Of course,” she whispered hoarsely to herself. “Why didn’t I think of it before! I can’t believe I didn’t think to check… I’ll be right back!” Hermione stood unsteadily and Apparated on the spot.





Ron’s jaw dropped as he stared in Harry’s direction. “I hate it when she does that!”





Hermione Apparated back ten minutes later, landing dangerously close to Ron as she stumbled backwards unto the couch.





“Hermione,” Ron started, concern overriding his slur, “where did you go? Are you alright?” Hermione was clutching her stomach.





“Apparating after drinking is not an excellent idea,” she panted, smiling up at Ron with watery eyes. “But it was worth it. I know who R.A.B. is.”















A/N: No too much of a cliffhanger, right? We all know who R.A.B. is… You do, don’t you? But, finally, they figured it out as well! Leave it to the Firewhiskey! Thanks, as always, to my beta reader Asphyxiated; without her it would be months of rejection! Reviews are very much appreciated! ~ozma333

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!


Chapter 5:


“Hermione,” Ron started, concern overriding his slur, “where did you go? Are you alright?” Hermione was clutching her stomach.


“Apparating after drinking is not an excellent idea,” she panted, smiling up at Ron with watery eyes. “But it was worth it. I know who R.A.B. is.”



Lost and Not Yet Found


“Hermione!” Harry jumped to his feet, his lightheadedness from the half a bottle of Firewhiskey quickly disappearing. “That’s incredible! Who is it?”


Ron was still recovering from the news as Hermione raced to explain. “I realized when Ron mentioned the list of Hogwarts students who were refusing to attend this year that the Daily Prophet was constantly making lists and guessing mis-guided statistics from their falsely generated polls,” she paused to take a deep breath as she sat up from Ron’s lap. “Oh! That horrible liquid gives you such a headache!” Hermione complained as her face flushed from her sudden change of position.


“Hermione!” Ron and Harry yelled in unison.


“Right. So, I’ve already checked all the books I could find trying to match names to the initials R.A.B. and I couldn’t find any names that made sense! First I found Rosalind Antigone Bungs, but she didn’t seem right. And then I found Rupert ‘Axebanger’ Brookstanton, but…”


“Please, Hermione! Get on with it!” Harry begged.


“Alright! Alright!” she responded with irritation. “So, then, I realized I had never cross checked the initials with the names of known and convicted Death Eaters. I Apparated over to the manor and went straight to see Professor McGonagall, who, by the way, was not at all pleased to see me in this state,” Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust but continued quickly at the look from both Harry and Ron. “Anyway, she quickly dug out a list of all the confirmed Death Eaters from an archive of old Daily Prophets and guess what? R.A.B. is none other than Regulus Alphard Black! Apparently his middle name was an old family name belonging to his uncle-” But Hermione’s sentence was cut short as Ron descended on her with a swift kiss.


“Brilliant!” he said quickly before jumping off the couch and leading Harry in a spirited dance around the living room.


Hermione’s smile broadened immensely as she repaired her formerly shattered glass and poured herself a fresh Firewhiskey.


~*~


Despite the late night celebrating Hermione’s discovery, Harry awoke early the next morning with, thankfully, only a minimal headache. Ron’s head was apparently heavier because the only response Harry received when he tried to wake him was a strangled sounding moan.


“I’ll bring Hermione in here if you don’t get up!” Harry threatened loudly.


Ron groaned. “She can’t be feeling any better,” he said, attempting to sit up. “Did you see her down that last glass?” Ron asked with a mixture of exasperation and admiration.


“Well, then maybe you better go check on her,” Harry suggested. Ron groaned again but, as Harry knew he would, quickly made it to Hermione’s door.


“Erm, Hermione?” Ron knocked tentatively on her door.


“In here, Ron!” Hermione called cheerfully from the kitchen. “I’ve started breakfast. I know Harry wanted to get an early start.”


“Hermione!” Ron stumbled into the kitchen and goggled at the bushy brunette who was pouring him a glass of pumpkin juice. “How are you…”


“Here, drink this,” Hermione handed a small vial to both Ron and Harry.


“What is it?” Harry asked, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.


“It’s called Perk Up,” Hermione responded, now serving both the boys plates heaped full of pancakes, “your brothers invented it. It eliminates hangovers,” she explained. Harry downed the concoction in one gulp. It didn’t taste particularly good, but his head cleared instantaneously.


“When did they give it to you?” Ron asked, seemingly amazed that Hermione would be in possession of such a remedy.


“At Harry’s birthday,” she responded, seating herself at the kitchen table. “They seemed to be under the impression that you and Harry would want to drink the entire bottle in one night.” She stopped to eye Ron accusingly. “Apparently they thought I would be the more responsible one.”


“Just shows how wrong they can be, huh?” Ron said, smirking. “How many glasses did you have? Six? Seven?”


Hermione shot Ron a withering look.


“So,” Harry interrupted, eager to get started on the day’s work, “I was thinking we should start at the Black house today. Of course, that means we’ll have to deal with whatever Order member happens to be in this morning.”


Harry was painfully aware that the members of the Order of the Phoenix were not ecstatic over his wish to keep Dumbledore’s secrets to himself. After the trio had sent Hedwig to inform the Weasley’s that they had safe lodging and to send news back with Hedwig should they need to contact them, Mrs. Weasley had forwarded a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt outlining his disapproval of Harry’s actions and requesting an immediate meeting. Harry had responded, via the Weasley’s, that he would contact the Order when he felt he could safely approach them. Unfortunately, that day seemed to have arrived.


“I think the best way to approach this is to request a meeting with the Order,” Hermione suggested, worriedly chewing on her lower lip. “We could attend one of their evening meetings and then spend the night. It would give us an opportunity to explain ourselves to the Order, search the house, and see Ron’s parents.” Harry and Ron were both aware that Hermione was anxious to speak to Mrs. Weasley alone. She had informed the trio that she had indeed visited Hermione’s parents, as she had promised, and Hermione hadn’t time yet to question her about it.


“Sounds good to me, Hermione,” Harry responded. Though he was not looking forward to the meeting, it did seem like the best way for them to approach the situation.


“So smart,” Ron exclaimed proudly through a mouth full of sausage as he pointed his fork in Hermione’s general direction. Hermione blushed as she shooed him out of his chair and towards the sink to begin the dishes.


~*~


“They did say eight o’clock, right, Harry?” Hermione whispered, tugging nervously on the edge of her shirt. They had just entered the Black house and there was no one in sight to greet them.


“Yeah, eight o’clock,” Harry whispered back, quietly making his way towards the stairwell leading to the kitchen. None of them wanted to evoke the anger of the painting that was quietly snoring by the door.


“I expect they’re waiting for us downstairs,” Ron said, following Harry and Hermione toward the stairwell.


A resounding crash followed by very high-pitched screeching startled the trio. Harry had just caught Hermione around the waist as she tottered dangerously on the edge of the first step.


“Blood traitors! Vermin! Horrible mud-bloods in my home! Oh, the disgrace!” the painting on the wall began horribly, ringing throughout the darkened household.


“Nymphadora, dear,” Lupin came swiftly into sight from a side room, talking loudly over the earsplitting screaming. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to see Tonks in the entranceway attempting to disentangle herself from what looked like an old troll’s leg. “I was waiting for you to turn up!” Lupin pulled a blushing Tonks into a warm kiss.


“Filth! Disgracing my fathers!”


“I hate that stupid umbrella stand,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “Have they arrived, yet?”


“Just now,” Harry interrupted. Lupin and Tonks, surprised, quickly turned their attention to the trio.


“It was just Tonks again,” Mad-Eye Moody’s voice rang from somewhere below to be followed by an assortment of muttering. Harry guessed he undoubtedly used his roving magical eye to see through the floor from the kitchen below.


“I’ve got it, Moody!” Lupin shouted down the stairwell. “Give a hand, Mr. Weasley?” Lupin and Ron quickly pulled the curtain over the portrait of Siruis’s mother. “We need to find a way to remove this!” Lupin said with a grunt as the curtains finally snapped shut. “After you, Nymphadora,” he whispered as he gestured to the stairwell.


“You know I hate it when you call me that!” she whispered in response, though the smile on her face spoiled the scolding.


“I know,” Lupin said softly in return as he followed her, and the trio, down the stairs.


“Ron! Harry! Hermione!” Mrs. Weasley rushed on the three of them and enveloped them in a crushing embrace.


“After the meeting, please, Molly!” Kingsley Shacklebolt said with more force than Harry thought was exactly necessary.


“Leave her be, Shacklebolt,” Moody interjected roughly, “it’s her child.” Shacklebolt merely sniffed in return.


After Harry was released from Mrs. Weasley’s clutches, he was able to properly take in the occupants of the Black kitchen. The Order, which now included the entire Weasley family minus Ginny and Percy, was seated around the table and three empty chairs were placed on one end. Harry suddenly felt as though this was going to be less like a meeting and more like an inquisition.


“Take your seats, please,” Professor McGonagall addressed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. All three silently obliged.


“So,” Shacklebolt started, he seemed to have assumed the lead though Harry was quite sure Professor McGonagall was the newly appointed leader of the Order, “just where have you three been?”


“I’m sorry,” Harry responded hesitantly, “I can’t tell you that.”


Shacklebolt looked momentarily put out before he continued. “What is it you’re planning on doing? Why haven’t you returned to school where we can be sure of your location? Why have you left the Burrow?”


“I’m not going to divulge much,” Harry continued slowly, wanting to be aware of his footing. “But, I’ll say this. Before Professor Dumbledore died, he disclosed information to me that he felt would be pivotal in Voldemort’s downfall.” Harry paused as he heard a collective sharp intake of breath from the surrounding Order members at the mention of Voldemort’s name. “He asked that I tell no one, other than Ron and Hermione. I intend to keep his promise. I also intend to finish what he started before he died,” Harry faltered on this last word as the Order broke out into muttering.


“But, Harry,” Professor McGonagall began from the head of the table in a sympathetic voice that Harry rarely heard from her, “surely he didn’t mean for you to do this task alone. Were he alive, Headmaster Dumbledore would never have asked you to...”


“It’s my task,” Harry interrupted, smiling weakly as he met his former teacher’s eyes, “I’m afraid I can’t explain why. Besides, I have two devoted friends who are refusing to let me go do it alone.”


“But, you’re children! Barely legal!” Shacklebolt blustered, obviously irritated that Harry refused to share any more information.


“And yet, they have managed more in their young lives than some of our adult Order members,” Moody, who had been quiet up to this point, interjected from the corner.


“It comes back to it again,” Lupin continued quietly, “do you trust Dumbledore’s judgment? I still do.”


“But, Kingsley’s right,” a woman Harry remembered as Hestia Jones spoke up, “they are so young…”


“They’re my young,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted fiercely, with tears in her eyes. Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand when his mother referred to her as one of her own. “If I trust them enough to let them go, you all should as well!”


“But, Molly,” wheezed Elphias Doge, “if it is a matter of such great importance…”


“I’m sorry,” Harry interrupted, “I wish I could tell you more. But, I was specifically told by Dumbledore not to reveal this information. You’ll have to trust me.”


“We do, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, “we trust all three of you.”


Kingsley Shacklebolt threw his hands in the air. “We can’t let them do this alone! We are an organization devoted to the defeat of You-Know-Who!” Shacklebolt wheeled on Harry, pointing a finger in his face. “You can’t expect us to sit back and do nothing. To leave the fate of the wizarding world to-”


“I’m not asking you to do nothing,” Harry interrupted curtly. “Do everything as you always have. Keep up the defenses.”


“But, you’re telling us that they are ineffective! That you know the only way to defeat Him!” Delegus Diggle spoke up suddenly.


“Nothing is ineffective!” Tonks started angrily, “Just fighting to keep the Death Eaters at bay is important enough!”


“And,” Hermione added in a small voice, “we don’t need any extra attention drawn to us. Voldemort doesn’t know what we are planning. We need to keep it like that.”


“I suggest we use Veritaserum…” Shacklebolt started but was drowned out by an outburst of angry retorts.


“Enough!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Kingsley, we are all frustrated by our lack of knowledge on the subject of Mr. Potter’s intentions. However, we will not resort to illegal behaviors to secure the information we need! Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall turned briskly to face Harry, “I think we can come to an agreement. We are all afraid for your health. And, I hate to say this, but I believe several Order members,” she shot a look at Shacklebolt, “are also afraid that if it is true what you say…and if you should happen to die,” Professor McGonagall paused as a small sob escaped Mrs. Weasley, “then the secret of the method to bring about You-Know-Who’s defeat will die with you. If you can devise a method to secure this information in the event of your…passing…I believe the Order can be accommodating. I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t mean to sound so harsh,” Professor McGonagall finished quietly and Harry truly believed she regretted having to broach the topic.


“Er, Hermione,” Harry looked hopefully at his best friend.


“I believe we can work something out, Professor,” Hermione conclude with confidence.


~*~


“It’s a good thing Hermione learned how to perform the Fidelius Charm,” Ron stated, yawning as he shuffled up the stairs to the room he and Harry had shared two summer’s ago. “It certainly has been coming in handy lately.”


“It’s not exactly the Fidelius Charm, though it is quite similar,” Hermione corrected, following Ron up the stairs.


“There’s still a Secret-Keeper though, right?” Ron countered.


“Of sorts,” Hermione responded vaguely, “technically, they be called the Ni Sannfaid…”


“The what?”


“The origin is Irish, well Gaelic to be exact, loosely translated it means…”


“Can’t we just call it the Secret-Keeper?” Ron whined as he reached the bedroom door. Hermione huffed.


The meeting had ended briskly after Hermione’s assurance that she would perform the Coimead Charm on an individual of Harry’s choice, who would agree to become the ‘Secret-Keeper.’ Harry insisted, however, that the identity of the Secret-Keeper was not to be disclosed. He agreed that the person would be someone trustworthy who kept a distance from the battlegrounds and who would agree to stay in contact with the Order; but, he refused to disclose their identity.


The assorted members of the Order had quickly dispersed (Kingsley Shacklebolt had left in rather a bad mood) leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone with the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and Professor McGonagall. Mrs. Weasley cooked up a late dinner and the group sat down to enjoy the meal.


“Will you be staying the night?” Mrs. Weasley asked, trying to instill some cheerfulness into her voice.


“Yes, we were planning on it,” Hermione responded, as both Ron and Harry had portions of the desert shoved into their mouths.


“But, just for the night,” Harry managed to choke out.


“Then off to who knows where, eh?” Charlie muttered under his breath. Both of the eldest Weasley boys had difficulty accepting that their youngest brother and his friends were attempting something so obviously dangerous. Fred and George seemed as though they had not only expected it, but they were excited about it as well. Both had offered any help Harry needed.


“Charlie!” Mr. Weasley said sharply. “That’s enough for tonight.”


Normal conversation, though admittedly strained, returned to the table as Harry turned to his former Transfiguration teacher who was seated right next to him.


“How’s school going, Professor?”


“Quite well, actually, Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied, after sipping the coffee Mrs. Weasley was now passing out.


“So, are there houses, years, and all that?” Harry asked vaguely, remembering Hermione’s question from the previous night. He wanted to find out how Ginny was holding up, but he didn’t want to be so obvious about it.


“Not houses, no,” Professor McGonagall replied with a tint of sadness, “but we’re giving the students work that would be closest to the year they were supposed to be in. If the school should open again, these students will be caught up.”


“Ah, so the students are finding it all alright then,” Harry responded.


“Yes, Miss Weasley is finding everything just fine, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied, the edges of her mouth twitching, “Though it seems to me that she is spending an awful amount of time in the owlery. No doubt waiting an important package…” she mused, draining her coffee.


Harry nervously cleared his throat. “Yeah, must be,” he replied. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had not yet written to Ginny. He had tried, several times; it was just too hard to put into words what he was still afraid to say. He also had the added worry that the letters may be intercepted. Harry resolved that he would send something out that night, even if it weren’t much…


Not long after, Harry politely excused himself for the night. Ron held the kitchen door for Hermione as they quickly followed suit. Harry thought he saw Mrs. Weasley smile knowingly in the couple’s direction as they made their way towards the staircase.


“Any idea on who you want to use as a Ni Sann- Oh fine then,” she grumbled at Ron’s whining, “Secret-Keeper, Harry?” Hermione asked, entering the boys bedroom. “It obviously can’t be any of us, since you promised it would be someone who kept away from the battles.”


“Actually, no,” Harry responded, furrowing his brow. “But let’s deal with that later and focus on this locket for now. By the way,” he continued, “did you talk to Mrs. Weasley? How are your parents?”


Hermione brightened considerably. “Oh, it went quite well actually. Though I have strict instructions that I am to visit for Christmas. That was very sweet of your mother, Ron,” she finished thankfully. Ron grinned.


But, after three hours and a thorough search of number 12 Grimmauld Place, none of the trio had produced a locket. They all trudged up to Harry and Ron’s room, Hermione laden with a tray of freshly made sandwiches.


“Has anyone searched Kreacher’s nest?” Harry asked excitedly, jumping off the bed he had flung himself on.


“Yes, I did,” Hermione responded sadly, sinking into an armchair across from Ron’s bed, “I checked there first, you know how Kreacher is…”


“It’s not in the attic, the basement…I even searched that dirty old room where we cleaned doxies out of the curtains! It’s not anywhere!” Ron stated as he kicked an old rubbish bin by the door.


“That room we cleaned doxies out of the curtains…” Harry started thoughtfully. “Did you check the bookcase in that room?” Harry’s face lit up.


“Yeah, I did, because I remember there being an old, heavy locket that none of us could open,” Ron responded despondently, collapsing on his bed in frustration.


“I remember that!” Hermione perked up, absently handing Ron a sandwich. “You mean to say we had the Horcrux two years ago and didn’t even know it!”


“That must have been it,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Where the hell is it now?”


“Where did we put all that rubbish we cleaned out of the rooms?” Hermione asked.


“Mum shoved it all up in the attic,” Ron replied, cramming the remains of his sandwich into his mouth.


“But, we already checked there,” Hermione supplied.


“Exactly.”


“Could Kreacher have brought it with him anywhere?” Harry asked.


“House elves aren’t allowed to steal from their homes. If anything, he would have hidden it where he hid everything else.” Ron said, sitting up straighter and reaching for another sandwich.


Harry suddenly started to grind his teeth and pace furiously throughout the room. “That filthy thief! That dirty, rotten-”


“Harry,” Hermione stood up in concern, “we’ve already said, it couldn’t have possibly been Kreacher.”


“Not Kreacher!” Harry roared. “Mundungus!”


Hermione gasped and Ron started choking on his sandwich.


“Oh, Harry! Oh! That must be it!” Hermione started nervously pacing the room after she pointed her wand at Ron and silently relieved him of the sandwich he had lodged in his throat.


“Thanks, Hermione,” Ron said breathlessly. “Where would the wanker have put all that rubbish?”


“He had it in Hogsmeade! He was selling it, the prat!” Harry mumbled, trying to regain focus. “And I was told not to worry about it. Dumbledore knew and he told me to forget it! Dammit!” he yelled as he punched a wall near the door.


“It’s alright, Harry,” Hermione interrupted quickly. “It’s alright. We just have to find Mundungus.” Her eyes were darting quickly about the room. “We’ll just have to make him remember what he did with it. So, what we need is-”


“Bloody hell!” Ron yelped as his two older brothers Apparated into the bedroom and toppled both Harry and Hermione unto the bed.


“So, this is what’s going on during your mission, eh Harry?” Fred asked, winking mischievously as he pulled Harry to his feet and off Hermione.


“I must say, dear brother, I did not think you would approve of that arrangement,” George glanced accusingly in Ron’s direction as he crossed the room to help Hermione.


“No, it was our impression at dinner that you and Miss Granger are, shall we say, quite the item?” Fred continued, waggling his eyebrows at Ron.


“Not now, guys,” Ron mumbled, embarrassed.


“Honestly,” Hermione huffed, her face tingeing pink, as she straightened out her ruffled clothing.


“What are you doing in here? We’re in the middle of something,” Ron continued.


“Yes, we can see that!” George teased.


“Next time you’re so obviously engaged try to do it more quietly!” Fred continued, nodding towards the hole that Harry had punched into the wall.


“Yes, we think Harry might have woke up the entire household!” George pointed out before bowing courteously as he made to take his leave.


“No, wait!” Harry said suddenly, startling the twins.


“Something really is going on, isn’t Harry?” Fred asked, surprised.


“Yes, I need to find Mundungus. You wouldn’t have any idea where he is?” Harry asked hopefully, realizing this was a long shot.


“No-” Fred started.


“But, we know where he will be!” George finished.










A/N: Sorry! I know I ended the last one with a bit of a cliffhanger as well! Darn! Well, you’ll just have to keep reading now won’t you? Thanks, as always, to my beta reader Asphyxiated it would be months of rejections if she didn’t step in! Reviews are always appreciated! (In fact, I thrive on them!) ~ozma333

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!



Chapter 6:“No, wait!” Harry yelled, startling the twins.


“Something really is going on, isn’t Harry?” Fred asked, surprised.


“Yes, I need to find Mundungus. You wouldn’t have any idea where he is?” Harry asked hopefully, realizing this was a long shot.


“No-” Fred started.


“But, we know where he will be!” George finished.



The Price of a Horcrux


"This is much worse than I remember it," an invisibility-cloak-wearing Harry muttered to Hermione as they walked down the street. Diagon Alley was deserted and they had not yet passed an open shop. The boards on the windows were troublesome reminders of the wrath of Lord Voldemort.


"I know," she whispered back. "It’s eerie. And I hate talking to you while you’re wearing that thing!" she added, with an awkward sideways glance.


"I don’t actually think you need it, Harry," Ron offered. "There’s no one here to see you anyway."


Ron was right. Harry hadn’t seen anyone except Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George since they had Apparated here twenty minutes ago. The autumn weather that was beginning to overcome the late summer heat swept through the group. Harry let the cloak slip, despite the growing chill.


Fred and George were still a little way ahead and Harry was beginning to doubt he would find Mundungus today.


"Guys," Harry called ahead to them, "what makes you think Dung will be here today?"


“Last I heard, he was arrested,” Ron mumbled.


“He was arrested, dear brother,” Fred turned jovially to answer.


“But, he got himself released,” George continued.


“Heard it cost him a couple crystal balls and a flying carpet or two.”


“But, why will he be in Diagon Alley?” Harry asked.


"It’s August 31st, mate," Fred answered, as though in explanation.


"Only one more day until Hogwarts opens," George continued. "Dung knows this is the only day whole families will venture into Diagon Alley."


"He won’t miss a prime selling opportunity!"


"But, Hogwarts isn’t opening this year!" Hermione hissed, impatiently. "No one is going to come today!"


"Ah! This is true," George said with a smile.


"But, you forget who we’re talking about here!" Fred continued, striding down the street as though this were any other day.


"Not too bright, our Dung," George lowered his voice as he motioned towards the end of the street where, huddled in filthy rags and scratching his head, sat Mundungus.


“Azkaban doesn’t exactly keep up on the latest in Hogwarts news, either.”


"Looks confused, doesn’t he?" Fred asked with glee.


Harry gritted his teeth. Hermione had already lectured him on not losing his temper and allowing Mundungus to escape like he did last time. "Alright. Hermione, you know what to do."


"Pedlock," Hermione muttered as she hit Mundungus with a well-aimed charm designed to glue his feet to the ground.


"Right, can’t wait to see the old bugger try to Apparate without being able to turn!" George said with enthusiasm.


"Should ensure us a good splinching!" Fred added.


Ron and Harry quickly strode across the street and directly towards Mundungus. As they closed the gap, Harry saw Mundungus flinch and fall over as he attempted to rapidly gather the assortment of rubbish he was trying to sell to unsuspecting customers.


"Not so fast, Dung," Harry bellowed as he and Ron approached. Ron was towering over Mundungus with a very unpleasant look on his face. “Accio wand,” Harry muttered, causing a wand to fly from underneath Mundungus’s cloak and directly into Harry’s hand.


"Yeah, we need a word with you, mate," Ron continued, stepping threateningly closer to Mundungus.


“’Arry! ‘S’ up,” the considerably shorter man had given up trying to collect his belongings and now began tugging at his boots.


"Oh, we took the liberty of keeping you in place before we arrived," Harry explained to the obviously confused Mundungus, "just in case you had the urgent need to Apparate before we finished our conversation."


Hermione and the twins stood in the background, Fred and George looking slightly disappointed that Mundungus hadn't managed to splinch himself.


"We need to talk to you. When we're through, Hermione will lift the Holding Charm she’s placed on you," Harry said gruffly as he stared down on Mundugus. He looked back up at them warily, as though he expected a more severe punishment for nicking Harry's belongings for the past year. "There's a locket missing from the Black House. It's a large, gold, and heavy; I need it back," Harry stated this calmly, though his thoughts were still raging inside.


Mundungus looked at Harry innocently for a moment before responding, “Blimey “Arry, why’d I know?”


Harry gritted his teeth and calmly replied, "I’ll ask one more time. Where is the locket?"


“I don know where the bloody thing is!”


Ron was the first to react. "Well," he hissed, pulling Mundungus to his feet by the scruff of his shirt, "you better think harder then!" Mundungus, gesturing helplessly, was pinned to the wall by the lanky redhead, his feet still attached firmly to the ground. Hermione reached up to place a steady hand on Ron’s back. Harry was surprised at the effect this had on Ron as he instantly relaxed his grip on the thief.


Mundungus brushed himself off before responding, “Sorry, ‘aven’t got a clue. Why do you want it?”


"That is none of your business, Dung," Hermione, who had been surprisingly quiet up to this point, bit back. "Produce it, or you will find out just how advanced my skills can be!"


At these words, Mundungus paled. “’Ere now, maybe I ‘ave it at my flat. I’d come right back once I find it...”


Harry laughed. "I think we'll join you, Dung! Nice try though."


Mundungus shrugged, conquered, and looked questioningly towards his feet.


"I'll Side-along Apparate with Dung and meet you all back here in a few minutes," Harry said to the rest of the group, raising his wand to remove the Holding Charm.


"We're coming with you!" Ron interrupted Harry, causing him to lower his wand. Mundungus groaned.


"We can't all side-along. We have no idea where this place is," Harry replied.


"We do," George interrupted.


"We were there once for a business transaction," Fred continued.


"This was all before we found out he was nicking your stuff," George assured Harry.


"We would have taken you there first, but we know Dung doesn't even like to show up there," Fred explained.


"Up to date on the rent yet, Dung?" George asked Mundungus, who replied with a dirty look.


"Alright," Harry decided, "we'll all go. Hermione and Ron, you side-along with Fred and George."


"Oh, sorry little brother," Fred said teasingly to Ron, "I just hate to have to steal Hermione away!" Moving swiftly to Hermione's side Fred gave one last wink before they both disappeared.


"Damn!" George exclaimed. "Oh well, come on Ron!" Ron, looking thoroughly disgruntled, allowed George to take his arm and they both disappeared instantaneously.


"That just leaves you and me, Dung," Harry muttered as he firmly grasped Mundungus's arm and undid the Holding Charm. "Straight to your flat and no detours!" Harry said firmly before the familiarly unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a small piece of tubing consumed his body.


~*~


The first sense Harry became aware of was the overpowering stench of rotting rubbish.


"Bet you charm all the ladies with this place, eh Dung?" George asked, pinning his nose shut.


Hermione, wrinkling her nose in disgust, pointed her wand in the general direction of what Harry could only assume was the kitchen and said, "Scourgify." She had to repeat the incantation several times; but, it eventually cleaned whatever the smell was coming from and allowed the twins to unplug their nose. Harry was close to performing the Bubble-Head Charm on himself before he passed out.


"Thanks, lass," Mundungus began roughly, "I guess I just don’t-" but his mouth instantly sounded wordless and he grappled at his throat.


"I’m sick of listening to him,” Ron said to the questioning looks the rest of the group was giving him.


"Where do we start looking?" Harry asked, beginning to take in the surroundings. They were standing in a small, dank room. There was only one windowpane near the ceiling that was barely allowing a grimy light through. An old mattress was thrown unceremoniously in the corner with a stack of rotting magazines piled next to it. In what Harry could hardly call another room, as it was just separated from the rest of the space by a low counter, sat a sink and a hot plate. The flat wasn’t large and roomy, but Mundungus definitely made productive use of all the space he had. In the ‘kitchen’, were at least two dozen black cauldrons. The floor was littered haphazardly with half open boxes. Peering into one, Harry saw an array of china that he knew Mundungus had never purchased. Harry noticed large piles of assorted furniture stacked in the corner near the bed and in the other corner was a box full of what looked like lacy arm sleeves.


"Excellent," Ron let out a slow whistle, "cribbing cuffs!"


"We could have used these in Hogwarts," Fred remarked, envy tinting his voice.


Mundungus strolled over to the box and began pointing at them with interest.


"Oh no!" Hermione quickly interrupted, "We are not here to buy!"


"C’mon Dung," Harry, taking Hermione’s cue on refocusing the group, said, "which box did you store my stuff in?"


Mundungus shrugged again and strolled behind the counter in the kitchen, lifting several of the heavy boxes and handing them over to Harry. The trio each took one and began searching though their contents.


"Look at all this stuff!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief. "Who would even want it?" He was currently holding up what appeared to be an old pair of women’s knickers. "Ugh!"


Harry’s own box contained many items with the Black family crest on it. But, even he had to admit that he wouldn’t want the items Mundungus had nicked. He was reaching the end of his box, which contained several glass bottles of suspicious looking purple and green liquids, when Hermione let out a small shriek. Harry immediately looked up.


With trembling hands, Hermione withdrew an old, tarnished, gold locket. Harry was sure that was the one they were looking for.


Fred and George leaned in to peer at the locket. Harry knew they were curious as to why he had desperately wanted to find an old and battered Black family heirloom. To their credit, they had yet to ask for an explanation.


"Give it here, Hermione." As the locket gently fell into Harry’s outstretched hand, he could have sworn the phoenix bezoar strapped firmly around his neck warmed slightly before the sensation quickly disappeared. "Fred and George, thanks so much," Harry turned to the twins to express his gratitude.


"Anytime!" Fred said graciously.


"The offer always stands," George continued, referring to their offer of help anytime Harry asked for it.


George playfully grabbed a surprised Hermione and quickly kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, Fred, you got her on the Apparating and all. So long, little bro!"


They Disapparated seconds later to avoid a charging Ron.


~*~


“What do we do with it now, Harry?” Ron asked, eyeing the golden locket that was sitting on the kitchen table cautiously. All three had Apparated back to Godric’s Hollow, the recently attained Horcrux in tow.


“Destroy it…somehow…” he responded quietly, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at the cold hunk of metal. Harry realized they had hit yet another wall. Yes, they had found a Horcrux. Destroying it was another matter.


“We need to be really careful, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Dum…” she hesitated, the word caught in her throat, “Dumbledore’s hand...”


“So, out of all the Horcruxes, we know that two have been destroyed,” Harry started in an attempt to review. “I destroyed the diary and Dumbledore the ring. I survived unharmed but Dumbledore’s hand went…well it looked all…dead.”


“What happened when you destroyed the diary, Harry? What made you think to stab it with that fang?” Hermione asked, pointing her wand towards the stove and bringing of pot of water to a boil.


“I dunno, really,” Harry responded slowly, never taking his eyes from the locket. “I just sort of felt I should. It’s hard to explain and it was so long ago…”


“How did Dumbledore destroy the ring?” Ron asked, accepting the cup of tea Hermione was offering him.


“He never told me,” Harry replied sadly. “He just said it took him a long time to do and there were many magical enchantments protecting the ring.” Harry waved off the tea Hermione had pushed towards him.


“Maybe he had to put the ring on,” Hermione mused, sipping her tea, “which was why only his one hand was injured.”


Harry reached out and tentatively lifted the locket.


“No, wait!” Hermione urged. “We should try everything else first, everything that might work to destroy it.”


Harry nodded in agreement as he replaced the locket on the table.


“We need to find a safe way to do this,” Ron stated, diverting his gaze from the table and locking eyes with Hermione. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”


“Right. Ron, you and I will take turns trying to charm and jinx the hell out of that old thing while Hermione will use a Shield Charm to protect us after we throw the offensive spells.” Harry instructed quickly, rising from the table and moving to the entrance of the kitchen. “Ron, you stand next to me and Hermione, you stand behind us.” They quickly moved into position, neither questioning Harry’s orders.


“Harry, you go first and tell us what you’re going to try before you do it,” Hermione said quietly after taking her place behind the two boys. “I’ll erect the shield just after you send the spell. Ron, you should try to get a shield up as well. More protection…” she said, a slight tremble accenting her voice.


“Right,” Harry started nervously, tightening his grip on his wand. “I’m going to try the Reductor Curse…” Harry raised his wand as Hermione and Ron shifted nervously behind him. “Reducto!”


A brilliant red light erupted from Harry’s wand tip as it fired off towards the still Horcrux. As the light touched the surface of the locket, it refracted into a million pieces, spraying into the walls of the small kitchen and ramming into the shield that Hermione had erected just in time.


Ron gulped before he let out a very weak, “Bloody hell…”


Hermione was shaking slightly as she dropped the shields. “That was close, Harry,” she whispered, her eyes glowing. “I barely had time to say the charm…”


“I know,” he responded quietly. “Thanks for getting it up though.” Harry smiled weakly in her direction as Ron shifted nervously.


“Should we try again?” Ron muttered. Hermione instantly opened her mouth to object, but Harry interrupted her.


“We have to,” Harry responded intently. “But let’s step back just a bit.”


For over an hour the trio tried every charm they could think of to destroy the locket. They tried Crushing Charms, Blasting Charms, Sectumsempra, and Severing Charms. Every spell attempted bounced off the locket just as the Reductor Curse had. There were several close calls and Ron was nursing a small burn on his arm from a refracted Melting Charm.


“I’m so sorry, Ron,” Hermione said sorrowfully as she bandaged Ron’s burnt left forearm.


“I think we need a break,” Harry called, frustrated at their lack of success. Ron and Hermione nodded as they made their way to the living room. They collapsed together on the couch as Harry paced the room.


“I don’t think any spell we throw at it is going to work, mate,” Ron began, wrapping his good arm around Hermione and drawing her into his chest. It was a sign of how exhausted and upset she was that she allowed him to hold her so close in Harry’s presence. She was staring mournfully at Ron’s left arm.


“I know,” Harry responded distractedly. “I think Hermione’s right, the locket needs to be on someone for it to be destroyed.”


Hermione’s eyes closed momentarily. “Harry…” she murmured.


“Hermione, it makes the most sense!” he interrupted passionately. “Dumbledore’s hand was hurt because he was wearing the ring when he destroyed it! And the diary…the diary was destroyed by stabbing it with a fang…” Harry was thinking hard to connect this action with the destruction of the diary. “The diary absorbed anything that was spilt on it. It was like spilling poison!” he continued triumphantly. “The diary Horcrux was destroyed because I used poisonous ink! Maybe the key to finishing off these Horcruxes is to find a way to use them in the process!”


Hermione sat up slowly as Harry spoke, her eyes widening. “Harry, that…that may be it!”


“But even if you put the damn thing on,” Ron interrupted, “you’d still have to figure out a way to destroy it once you did. If you think I’m sending a curse at the bloody thing once you’ve got it around you’re neck you’ve gone nutters!”


“No, we won’t be doing that,” Hermione confirmed firmly, resting back on Ron’s shoulder.


“I wish I knew how Dumbledore destroyed that ring!” Harry muttered fiercely as he continued his pacing of the living room.


“After the ring was destroyed, Harry, what did it look like?” Hermione asked thoughtfully.


“It was cracked.”


“And the diary…”


“Had a hole from the Baslisk fang, why?”


“Maybe, we need to find a way to open the locket, create a hole…” Harry’s face brightened considerably at Hermione’s musing.


“Once again,” Ron said proudly, “brilliant!”


At Hermione’s insistence, the trio once again began firing off spells towards the locket while it sat on the table, with the protection of the Shield Charm, in attempts to get it open. Just as before, nothing seemed to have any effect whatsoever. However, in addition to the kitchen looking a mess from the first barrage of offensive spells, every jar and container now had it’s lid floating two inches above it.


“Alright, Harry,” Hermione finally admitted after the second hour. “We’ll need to try it your way…”


~*~


After a light dinner and a quick rest, which Hermione begged Harry to take before he continued, Ron carefully brought the locket into the living room for Harry to put on.


“Are you sure you don’t want me to-” Ron began but was quickly cut off.


“No, Ron,” Harry said firmly, “I’m going to do it.” Ron nodded in accord. Hermione was worriedly chewing her lower lip as Harry unclasped the locket’s chain and brought it to his neck. He closed his eyes as he attached it and quickly reached for his wand.


Nothing happened.


“Harry,” Hermione ventured, “what’s happening?”


“You alright, mate?” Ron continued.


Harry opened his eyes and looked at his two best friends. “Yeah, fine.” Harry didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Hermione, who had apparently been holding her breath, exhaled sharply.


“Alright,” Harry began nervously, “now how to open the bloody thing.” Harry attempted a smile; he didn’t succeed.


“Harry, say something in Parseltongue!” Ron said quickly. Hermione gaped at him. “What?” he started defensively, “it is Slytherin’s locket!”


Harry grinned at Ron’s defensive turn. Hermione locked eyes with him before murmuring tenderly, “Ronald, that was fantastic.” Ron smiled weakly in return.


Harry closed his eyes again and concentrated on what he was about to say. He always found it difficult to start speaking in Parseltongue. He began and said, as clearly as he could, “Open.” Harry saw Ron and Hermione staring as a slow hissing escaped his lips.


Instantaneously, the locket burst open. A blinding green light emanated from the center of the locket as a piercing, inhuman wail flooded the room. Harry’s body went rigid, feeling as though it had been stunned. He couldn’t move an inch if he tried. He saw Ron attempt to reach him. An invisible barrier must have been erected around Harry, because Ron was thrown back forcefully into the shelf on the opposite wall. Hermione, covering her ears, ran desperately to Ron, looking helplessly between the two.


Harry felt his body rise an inch off the floor. The opened locket was sending powerful waves of magic through his chest. Harry felt as though his lungs were deflated. He felt his heart was being compressed. The cold chain on the locket was slowly tightening around his neck, choking him.


A warmth that Harry barely registered as foreign to the locket glowed red on his throat. Shocks of heat radiated from his chest and through his outstretched fingertips. The chain on the locket snapped and the Horcrux, along with Harry, fell with a thud to the floor.


Hermione advanced quickly; the barrier the Horcrux had produced fell as soon as the chain snapped on the back of Harry’s neck. She raised her wand towards the still open locket and bellowed, “Avada Kedavra!” Harry had never seen her look so menacing.


The Horcrux glowed green before collapsing into itself. A now crumpled-looking lifeless locket lay in its place, harmless.


“Harry! Oh, Harry!” Hermione yelled, dropping to her knees next to her friend and just barely noticing the small stone that was smoking slightly around Harry’s neck. Harry could just make out Ron’s crumpled form by the shattered bookcase. He was still breathing.


The final thought to enter Harry’s mind was Ginny. He wanted desperately to be taken to her and he tried, in vain, to communicate this to Hermione.


And that was the last he could remember before the quiet darkness finally gripped his mind.








A/N: Exciting? Yes, no? Thanks, as always, to my beta reader Asphyxiated. Sorry for the extra long wait…school is a pain, I’m just now moving, and I most recently got engaged! So, as you can see, life is always interfering. But, luckily in this case, in a great way! Reviews are greatly appreciated! ~ozma333

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!


Chapter Seven“Harry! Oh, Harry!” Hermione yelled, dropping to her knees next to her friend and just barely noticing the small stone that was smoking slightly around Harry’s neck. Harry could just make out Ron’s crumpled form by the shattered bookcase. He was still breathing.


The final thought to enter Harry’s mind was Ginny. He wanted desperately to be taken to her and he tried, in vain, to communicate this to Hermione.


And that was the last he could remember before the quiet darkness finally gripped his mind.


Entrapment


“Ronald!” Hermione scolded, sounding scandalized, “stop that right now!”


“C’mon, Hermione,” Ron’s voice sounded muffled, “I’m hurt!”


“Harry’s right next to us! He could wake any minute!”


“He’s alright, Hermione,” Ron said at the furtive look his girlfriend gave towards the next bed, “he just needs some more time to rest. You know what Madam Pomfrey said…”


“Yes, of course I do,” she replied distractedly, “I just hate to see him that way.”


“Well, instead we could-” Ron started suggestively.


“Ronald!” Hermione interrupted, exasperated. “You’re still hurt. Madam Pomfrey won’t even let you leave the infirmary yet.”


“No,” Ron mumbled, a slight air of disappointment tinting his voice, “something about over-excitement…”


“And you think what you want to do won’t excite you?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.


“Well, if it’s so awful for you, fine! We won’t!” Ron answered, crossing his arms over his chest in irritation.


Hermione, laughing softly, kissed Ron lightly on the lips before whispering, “I’m going to go check on Ginny.” Ron merely grunted in return and rolled on his side to go back to sleep.


Harry Potter lay still in the infirmary bed next to Ron’s, his eyes refusing to open, his body refusing to obey commands, and his mind drifting in and out of consciousness as the days passed uncounted.


~*~


A weight Harry recognized as foreign to his own shifted slightly on the end of his bed. His eyes opened slowly for the first time, blinded by the dazzling light streaming through the low windows. He felt weaker than he had ever felt before and his chest ached with each heartbeat.


A flowery scent wafted over him as he smiled at the sleeping form of Ginny Weasley. She sat in a chair at the foot of his bed, resting her upper body at his feet. Her brilliant red hair was cascading over his bed sheets.


“Ginny,” Harry whispered, wishing to alert only her to his presence.


The sleeping form positioned by his feet moved slowly and rearranged herself. She was snoring softly. Harry thought there had never before been such a family resemblance.


“Ginny,” he whispered a little louder.


At this last exclamation, Ginny’s head shot up from the bedcovers. “Harry!” she screeched, jumping up from the chair. She lunged her body towards him and for one gloriously moment Harry though she was going to kiss him. Instead, she enveloped him in a friendly hug and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”


Harry forgot that he could no longer kiss Ginny whenever he wanted. He forgot, in his unconscious state, that they were no longer a couple. His chest ached for slightly longer on the next heartbeat.


“I have to go tell Madam Pomfrey you’re awake,” Ginny whispered as Harry reluctantly let her out of his grasp. “I’ll be right back.” Harry watched her until she disappeared around the corner and out of sight.


Hermione, appearing in the open doorframe, immediately swooped down on Harry and crushed him into an embrace. “Harry! Oh, I’m so happy you’re all right! You have no idea…it was so scary…” she whispered, her eyes shining.


“I’m alright, Hermione,” Harry returned, smiling weakly. “How did we get here?” Harry had the first chance to properly look around what he instinctively knew was Professor McGonagall’s manor infirmary. The room he was lying in had a row of six hospital beds and looked as though it had once been an extremely large bathroom. There was a line of sinks on the opposite wall and a sectioned off area for the toilets. The floors were tiled a bright white and the walls were freshly painted pale green. Very little decorating had gone into this makeshift infirmary; only two wizard pictures donned the sparse walls, neither subject was resting in their frame.


“I Side-Along Apparated both you and Ron,” Hermione replied. “I didn’t want to take you to St. Mungo’s, too many questions…”


“No, this is better,” Harry responded as his eyes unconsciously drifted to the door Ginny had exited from. “How long have we been here?”


“Nearly three weeks,” Hermione replied as Harry’s jaw dropped. “Ron was here with you for a time. He’s alright.”


“Yeah, I know…” Harry responded vaguely. “When I was out, I could still hear bits of conversation.” Harry was dimly registering that the dreams he could remember having appeared to be actual conversations.


“You could?” Hermione asked, intrigued. “I’ve heard about that happening…”


“What’s wrong with me? I feel all…weak…” Harry asked feebly, attempting to sit up on his elbows.


“When that,” Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper as she gently pushed Harry back down on the bed, “Horcrux opened on your neck, green…lights…came out of the locket and looked like they were piercing your chest.” Hermione’s voice broke slightly.


“I felt that,” Harry started. “It was hard to breathe and it felt like my heart stopped.”


“That’s how it looked. It was terrifying…” Hermione trailed off and looked away. Harry noticed her hand travel to her eyes and he respectfully looked at his feet.


“So,” Harry continued when he felt it was safe, “what happened when we got here?”


“Well,” Hermione began and Harry was relieved to notice her voice was even, “Madam Pomfrey shooed us all away from you so I’m not too sure what she did. She had Ginny take care of Ron. He had a cracked skull from the collision with the bookcase…it was broken in three places…”


“And she could handle that by herself?” Harry was both amazed and proud of Ginny.


“Actually, yes,” Hermione exclaimed, “her skills have really advanced. She’s been here the entire time, by your side…”


Harry smiled sheepishly.


“Harry, really!” Hermione began sharply. “You breaking up with Ginny was one of your most idiotic ideas! Even if you aren’t still with her, everyone knew how much she meant to you! Snape, Malfoy, anyone who was at Hogwarts really…”


“Hermione.”


“…and if you think they would just conveniently forget to tell Voldemort…”


“Quite enough chatter over there, Miss Granger!” Madam Pomfrey came bustling over between Harry and Hermione. “Miss Weasley, prepare that draught I taught you to brew.”


“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Ginny replied calmly in Madam Pomfrey’s wake, smiling in Harry’s direction as she turned to follow her instructions.


“No visitors today, Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey continued, shutting a startled Hermione out with a curtain as she uncovered Harry to examine him. “You had quite the close call, Mr. Potter,” Harry noticed several blackened scars scattered across his torso. “These will fade eventually, they should have been deeper if you ask me. Miss Granger has been deliberately vague when questioned regarding the incident that caused these.” Madam Pomfrey looked over her nose at Harry as Ginny slid past the curtain with a smoking pewter tankard.


“Erm, Madam Pomfrey,” Ginny handed the tankard to her teacher; Harry was pleased to notice that a slight blush was creeping up her neck.


“Thank you, Miss Weasley. Oh, you should stay for this,” Madam Pomfrey stated when Ginny turned to leave. “You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Potter? Training program and all.”


“Not at all,” Harry said, amused at Ginny’s embarrassment.


Madam Pomfrey began doing complicated wand movements and muttering incantations that completely confused Harry. Ginny, however, seemed to be following her instructions clearly as she kept nodding in acknowledgment, accompanied by some flustered looks when Harry caught her staring in his direction. Before long, Ginny fed Harry a Sleeping Draught and he felt himself drift peacefully to sleep.


~*~


“Harry.”


He stirred as his eyes drifted open. “Morning,” he mumbled, smiling.


“Did you sleep well?” Ginny asked, perching herself on his bedside chair.


“Yeah,” Harry answered, propping himself up on his pillows. Ginny reached behind and helped him. “Thanks.”


These are your potions for this morning,” Ginny continued, indicating the tray she was levitating towards Harry.


“Ginny…”


“These should be taken before you eat,” Ginny handed Harry two vials, which he accepted reluctantly.


“Ginny?”


“These can be taken afterwards,” Ginny continued as though she didn’t hear Harry, placing three other vials on his bedside table.


“I don’t understand,” Harry interrupted.


“Should I put these someplace else,” Ginny gestured confusingly towards the vials. “Breakfast shouldn’t be too long now…”


“No,” Harry continued quietly, “us… What’s happening here?”


“Us?” Ginny asked, her face blank.


“Yes, us,” Harry said firmly. “At the wedding… I mean, I know we’re not together, but I thought…”


“Harry…”


“I mean, are we alright?”


“Yes,” Ginny responded, flustered, “yes, of course we are. I’m sorry, Harry.” Ginny stopped and locked her gaze on her hands. “It’s just, it’s hard to see you like this…and not know why…”


Harry stomach surged with guilt. Of course Ginny would be upset. Not upset with him, but angry that she couldn’t be there to help stop it from happening. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, staring into the bubbling vials Ginny had handed him.


“I understand, Harry,” Ginny continued, touching his shoulder lightly, “I really do. But, it’s difficult to be this near you…and not…” Ginny broke the contact.


“I know,” Harry admitted, feeling that same urge to wrap himself around her.


“You should take those,” she whispered, pointing to the vials tilting dangerously in his hands before she rose from her chair and slipped past his curtain.


~*~


“So, any news?” Harry asked as he reached for his morning pumpkin juice. Madam Pomfrey had finally allowed Ron and Hermione to visit Harry. He had been asleep for a full three days, wakening only long enough to take his next Sleeping Draught. The scars on his chest were nearly healed and Harry didn’t think he could stand being kept in the infirmary any longer. The only comfort was that every time he awoke, he could see Ginny…


Ron shifted uncomfortably in the chair he had just deposited himself into.


“The Death Eaters have been vicious lately, Harry,” Hermione started tentatively.


“Muggle parts of London have been attacked, Ireland, too,” Ron said.


“Diagon Alley was attacked last week.”


“Right down the street from Fred and George’s shop.”


“And Surrey was under attack as well,” Hermione continued, chancing a look in Harry’s direction.


“Surrey?” Harry looked back uncertainly. “Where in Surrey?”


“Magnolia Crescent,” Hermione replied, meeting Harry’s eyes. Ron stirred nervously in his armchair.


“But, that’s right near…” Harry tailed off. These attacks were far too close to places he was known to frequent for them to be coincidental. Magnolia Crescent was only blocks from Privet Drive.


“It gets worse, mate,” Ron continued. Harry felt his mouth go dry.


“Yesterday, Godric’s Hollow was attacked,” Hermione explained. “The street over from our home.”


“No one has been killed so far, just buildings destroyed,” Ron hastened to add. Harry’s stony silence was unnerving.


“Who were the attacking Death Eaters?” Harry asked quietly.


“Oh, well, no one has seen who exactly…” Hermione answered nervously, “though one Muggle witness described an angry looking man with a hooked nose and dank black hair…”


“Snape,” Harry muttered venomously.


“Probably,” Ron confirmed quietly.


Harry cursed loudly.


“S’almost like he wants you to come and fight him, isn’t it?” Ron said as more of a statement than a question. “Like he’s taunting you…”


Instead of responding, Harry attempted to get out of bed. Madam Pomfrey immediately came bustling over, pushing Harry back down. “No visitors unless you can stay in bed!” she said forcefully, wagging a finger in his direction.


“I don’t know what to think of it,” Hermione replied cautiously, dropping her voice to a whisper in the wake of Madam Pomfrey. “It doesn’t make sense…”


“Sure it does, Hermione!” Harry hissed. “They’ve done away with Dumbledore, now it’s my turn! I’m what they’ve wanted for years now! They figure nothing’s standing in their way now!”


“No, it’s just,” Hermione raced to explain, “why attack places close to where you’d be? Why not attack places where they knew you would be? Instead of attacking Magnolia Road, why not go straight for Privet Drive?”


Harry didn’t have an answer for this so he scowled.


“Maybe they thought the protections would be better at the actual locations,”
Ron suggested helpfully. “Maybe they felt if they attacked close to Harry’s location, he would come running.”


“Yeah!” Harry jumped in, “I bet that’s exactly what they thought! What Snape thought…” he muttered.


Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue but settled for huffing and disappearing behind a discarded newspaper instead. Harry was certain that she had more to offer, but his mind was too clouded with images of his former Potions Master to allow her to continue.


~*~


“What was he doing with something cursed so heavily is what I’d like to know.” The dim lights floating around Harry’s bed softly illuminated the three women standing nervously over him.


“What we’d all like to know, Poppy,” a voice Harry recognized as his former teacher, Professor McGonagall, replied.


“I hate not knowing what they’re doing,” Mrs. Weasley cut in sadly, reaching down to rearrange his pillow.


“We all do, Molly.”


“He’s a very lucky young man, that’s all,” Madam Pomfrey continued. “These wounds are the worse curse wounds I’ve ever seen. They should have been deeper, too, if you ask me.”


“Why do you say that, Poppy?”


“The curse that made these was powerful, so powerful that it stopped the beating of his heart.” Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Something interfered with the curse, something that Miss Granger can’t even explain…”


“What could have done that?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a whisper.


“A more powerful charm. A charm designed to specifically counteract the curse. But, for the life of me, I’m not sure what that charm is…”


“Harry, you awake, mate?” Ron had just thrown a pillow at Harry’s head as a crack of thunder rolled ominously outside their bedroom window. Harry had been discharged from the infirmary the day before, but, at Madam Pomfrey’s insistence, the trio remained at the manor so that Harry could be ‘under observation’ for a few days longer.


Harry grunted as a second pillow came flying at his head.


“Ron,” Harry sat up, running his fingers through his hair and reaching for his glasses, “did your Mum come to visit you in the infirmary?”


“Yeah, did a right bit of crying over you as well,” Ron replied, pulling a jumper over his head. “Why?”


“That’s what my dream was about,” Harry responded vaguely, noting internally how dark the morning seemed as a flash of lightening lit their room brightly.


Ron pulled a face. “You’re dreaming about my Mum coming to visit you in a hospital wing?”


Harry laughed. “No, I keep flashing to bits of actual conversations that happened while I was out. I can remember you and Hermione talking as well. Should I go into that?” Harry asked innocently enough, knowing he would embarrass Ron into submission.


Ron ears turned red as he mumbled incoherently in response. Harry suspected he must have hinted at being hungry because minutes later they were heading to the dining room.


The manor’s dining area was a large, airy room with cathedral ceilings and tall, narrow windows. Harry watched the storm that had been raging for a better part of the morning drip down the long windows. Every room he had seen so far had the appearance that nobility had once roamed through the halls; in a way, it reminded him of the ancient feel of Hogwarts. Harry could just see the tips of the house elves ears as they bustled in the kitchen, which was attached to the dining room via a mahogany-trimmed half wall. Pots and pans could be heard faintly clanging and an occasional squeal would be emitted from one of the house elves when a dish dropped unceremoniously unto the floor. The rectangular dinning room was equipped with three long tables, which were more than enough to fit both the students and the teachers. Ginny informed Harry that only thirty-two students had decided to come for training; only ten were eating breakfast at the moment.


“Harry!” Harry turned to see a familiar round face bound towards him.


“Hello, Neville!” Harry returned happily. “You’ve decided to come to school this year?”


“My Gran would’ve been furious if I refused,” Neville replied seriously. “Not that I would have. Much rather be here,” he continued taking the seat next to Ron and Harry and dropping his wand on the floor in the process. “Why’ve you’ve not come? Never thought I’d be here without you,” he asked as he leaned over to retrieve his unbroken wand.


“Er, no reason really,” Harry responded vaguely and was mercifully interrupted by Hermione’s entrance. He saw her wave jovially towards the staff table; Krum waved back. Ron looked up furtively, but managed to hide his scowl quickly enough.


“Morning, Neville. Harry, Ron.” Hermione said cheerfully as she moved to take a seat next to Ron.


“Hi, Hermione.”


“Is the library open this early?” Ron asked in dismay, spraying his mouthful of eggs as he caught sight of the giant book Hermione was slinging unto the table.


“Er, yes, it is,” she replied distractedly as she picked bits of egg off the cover of the book. “You are so disgusting!”


“That’s not what you said last- Ouch!” Ron said, bringing his foot up to the bench to rub where Hermione had just stomped. “That hurt, Hermione!”


“I was looking up magical means of communication,” Hermione began, completely ignoring Ron, “it’s something we should begin looking into.”


“Found anything interesting?” Harry asked, leaning forward a bit. In all honesty, he had thought about it as well. Shouting across the room to one another did seem to draw unnecessary attention.


“A few things that may work out,” she replied thoughtfully, thumbing through the text again, “I have to read a bit more.”


“Why not just use Patronuses?” Ron asked, gulping down the last of his sausage and pointing his empty fork towards McGonagall, who had a silvery Patronus hen approaching her, “like the Order does?”


“I’ve thought about it,” Hermione replied, glancing up to watch the message exchanged between the silvery hen and Professor McGonagall, “but I…I…” Hermione’s face went blank. “Harry, Ron, I think something’s wrong.”


One look at Professor McGonagall’s face confirmed Hermione’s theory. Her features taunt with worry, she swept through the dining room and towards the main entrance hall of the manor, only wasting one furtive glance in Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s direction before disappearing completely.


“Ron!” Ginny bolted through the entrance to the dining room minutes later with record speed, knocking over a third year carrying a tray full of pumpkin juice.


“Ginny, what’s-” Harry began but was cut off.


“The Burrow,” Ginny was gasping for air, “it’s…under…attack!”


“What!” Ron bellowed, standing from the table and upturning Hermione’s half empty plate.


“I…just…heard,” Ginny stopped and gulped for air, “McGonagalljusttoldMadamPomfrey….”


“Ginny, slow down,” Hermione said comfortingly.


“She didn’t see me in the corner…”


“Maybe we should-” Hermione started, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all making their way towards the entrance hall and towards a place past the Anti-Apparition wards, leaving behind a bewildered looking Neville. Hermione hurried to catch up.


“The Order’s supposed to be arriving for backup,” Ginny supplied, panting slightly.


“Ginny,” Harry turned as they reached the front door, “maybe you should…”


“You can’t keep me from going, Harry,” Ginny said fiercely, gripping Hermione’s forearm, “not for this.” Hermione looked pleadingly towards Harry, who knew that he couldn’t deny Ginny the right to defend her home. Seconds later the smell of sausage and eggs was replaced by the acrid smell of burning grass.


~*~


“Stupefy,” Harry muttered from his recently attained position in the Burrow’s old shed. A Death Eater, who had been using the corner of the shed for cover, fell instantaneously, bringing Mr. Weasley’s entire stock of Muggle plugs down with him. Harry recognized, with a pang in his chest, the fallen Death Eater as a man Dumbledore had called Amycus. He was on the tower that night. Hermione and Ginny worked quickly to secure him to the end of Mr. Weasley’s workbench.


From their vantage point in the shed, they could see nearly a dozen Death Eaters ahead, attacking the wobbly home through the pouring rain. They shot Reductor Curses at the walls and set fire to the ancient oak that grew innocently in the front yard. The smoke caused from the flaming tree further blackened the already darkened sky. Harry could see a barrage of defensive spells raining from the higher windows of the Burrow, no doubt thrown from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Most were hitting their mark, but were being deflected by Shield Charms that the Death Eaters were using. The deflected spells were scattering over the countryside; maiming bushes, the broom shed, and a few unfortunate garden gnomes.


“This is awful,” Hermione whispered, clinging unto Ron’s arm, a steady stream of rainwater was falling from a corner of the shed’s roof and unto her shoulder.


“Why are they doing this?” Ginny asked, her voice steady as her eyes lit with the glow of passing spells.


“Bloody gits,” Ron mumbled angrily, his gaze stony.


“No, I mean, why Reductor Curses? They’re not aiming curses at Mum and Dad, just the house…”


“Potter!” Harry turned suddenly to face his old Transfiguration teacher, the sound of her approaching footsteps masked by the thunderous downfall. “What are you all doing here?” Professor McGonagall looked furiously from face to face, rainwater dripping from the brim of her hat.


“This is our home, Professor,” Ginny answered quietly. “We have the right to defend it.” Harry noticed a tinge of defiance in her voice as she raised her chin to her teacher.


“The Order is spreading out around the perimeter,” Professor McGonagall continued after an appraising look over the four young adults standing in front of her. “The Shield Charms the Death Eaters are using aren’t protecting them from behind. Aim for the lower backs,” Professor McGonagall stopped suddenly as a jet of bright purple light was reflected just past her left ear. “Spread out. Ginny, Ron, behind the broom shed. Now!” she added as another jet of light came streaking past the larger shed.


Ron and Ginny each gave one last furtive glance towards Harry and Hermione before disappearing behind a shield of heavy rain and towards the broom shed.


“You two,” Professor McGonagall rounded on Harry and Hermione, “stay here. Begin the offensive when you see the Order attack.” She turned with an agility Harry had never seen before, shrank into the form of a tabby cat, and leapt towards the opposite bank of the large pond situated by the Weasley’s garden.


Harry positioned himself at the edge of the shed’s wall; Hermione was right by his side, having created a hole in the side of the wall for which to fire her spells. Harry was anxious to begin the fight; he hated to see the source of so much childhood happiness being torn apart as it was. The usually peaceful silence of a rainy morning at the Burrow was punctuated sharply by the hiss and crack of the surrounding attacks.


Hermione shivered beside him. A thrill of cold sifted through the airy shed.


The attack began suddenly from the bank of the rippling pond. Jets of all colors, contrasted against random bolts of lightening, shot out and raced towards the unsuspecting Death Eaters. Harry could see flashes of orange and green flying from the direction of the broom shed. He smiled proudly at the thought of the two siblings furious attempt to save their home. Harry and Hermione’s spells matched in intensity to any of the Order members. He could see the bodies of various Death Eaters fall under the vicious advances from the Order.


“They’re falling so easily,” Hermione murmured, her hair flying wildly as her wand moved with incensed intent. Harry noticed with a start that instead of exhilaration there was suspicion in her tone. “I don’t-” But Hermione’s statement was left without an ending.


Harry turned quickly as his friend’s form seized and fell limply to the ground. Directly behind him, a hooked nosed, sallow faced man stood, the ends of his dirty black hair dripping with rainwater, an infuriating smirk plastered across his face.


“How nice of you to join us, Potter,” Severus Snape began silkily; easily deflecting the Stunning Spell Harry had just thrown at him. “Stupefy.”


Before Harry’s enraged mind could retort, he felt his body go rigid and fall on the muddy ground next to Hermione’s. Ropes were springing out of Snape’s wand tip and wrapping themselves tightly around Harry and Hermione’s fallen bodies. Hermione’s head bobbed alarmingly on Harry’s frozen chest. He desperately wished she would wake.


“She will wake, Potter,” Snape sneered as he bent over the two fallen forms and withdrew an ink well from his pocket. “But, not here, not now,” he hissed, placing Hermione’s limp hand into Harry’s rigid one and touching both to the ink well he was now extending. “Portus,” he murmured and Harry felt that distinctly recognizable tug behind his navel before he lost consciousness. Harry’s mind drifted slowly, back to the peaceful awareness of nights before.


~*~


“At least yours wakes on occasion,” Ginny’s voice rang through the still night air, her flowery scent wafting over Harry’s seemingly unconscious form.


“He will, Ginny,” Hermione’s voice echoed softly from next to Ron’s bed.


“I know,” Ginny replied, sniffling slightly. “But, he sure is taking his time of it!”


Harry remembered commanding his eyes to open, but they refused. “I’m here, Ginny. I’m alright,” he thought, as he lay helpless on his bed in the manor’s infirmary.


“Ginny,” Hermione started curiously, talking over the dim sound of Ron snoring, “I was talking with Madam Pomfrey about the stone Harry wears around his neck…”


“What about it?”


“The other night at home, when Harry was being…attacked, the stone began to glow red. And, it was smoking when I finally reached him.”


Even unconsciously, Harry could sense Ginny’s hesitation.


“Madam Pomfrey said that whatever Harry was attacked with was designed to kill him…that it should have killed him…” Hermione continued, prompting the younger girl.


A small sob escaped Ginny as Hermione moved to comfort her.


“I recognize the stone as a phoenix bezoar, but even that wouldn’t have protected against an enchantment this powerful…” Hermione continued softly.


“It was the Trocair Charm…” Ginny supplied in a strangled voice.


Hermione let out a faint gasp. “Oh, Ginny! I had no idea!” Harry was confused, Ginny had explained that the Trocair Charm extends the intense feelings of the charm’s caster to the wearer of the object charmed, but that wouldn’t explain Hermione’s reaction…


“Didn’t you?” Ginny asked, chuckling softly.


“Well, I…I suppose I guessed…but…” Hermione stammered in response.


“What about you?” Ginny asked.


“Me?” Hermione returned, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and sounding flustered.


“Yes, you and my dear brother,” Ginny responded, clearly amused.


Hermione cleared her throat. “I guess I can say that if I performed the charm…it would…be effective.”


Ginny giggled softly in response…


“Enervate.”


Harry slowly opened his eyes, immediately becoming aware that his arms and legs were bound to an uncomfortable wooden chair; an old, damp cloth pressed firmly into his mouth. The silence of his surroundings sharply contrasted the barrage of rain and spells that had punctuated the Burrow. The smell of disuse plagued his nostrils in a dimly lit room that looked worn and abandoned. Hermione’s body sat bound in an old armchair directly across from him, her head lolling on her chest.


Snape crossed the small room armed with his wand and deposited himself unto a threadbare sofa. “Nice dreams, were they, Potter?” he laughed coldly in Harry’s direction before pointing his wand towards Hermione.


“No!” Harry screamed, muffled though his gag, dreading what spell Snape would use to attack.


“Enervate,” Snape murmured, training his wand on Hermione. Her head rose slowly, her eyes appearing dazed, blood trickling from just above her left eye. Harry wished they had a silent means of communication; he locked eyes with her attempting a form of reassurance. She smiled weakly in return.


“Touching,” Snape said quietly, his upper lip curling unpleasantly, as he turned to a rickety wooden table in the corner of the room. Harry attempted to take in his surroundings; the room was stagnant and confined. The walls were completely covered in leather bound books; though, he thought even Hermione would find this place depressing.


“Do you know what this is, Granger?” Snape strode towards Hermione, a crystal vile in hand. Hermione looked warily up at him.


“It looks like Veritaserum…” she replied uneasily. Snape grabbed Hermione’s mouth roughly and poured half the liquid down her throat. She sputtered and coughed agonizingly, the sound echoing off the enclosing walls.


“You looked like you needed a demonstration, Potter,” Snape said venomously in Harry’s direction.


“What could we ask Granger that she would feel compelled to lie about?” Snape mused, staring hatefully towards Harry. Harry stared back, hoping he was using Legilimency, hoping he could emanate the hatred he was feeling.


“Not schoolwork, not political theories,” Snape began, taunting them both, “we both know she is far too outspoken on those topics already.” Snape stared in Harry’s direction as he sat himself at the table and poured himself a drink from an open bottle of Firewhiskey. Hermione’s eyes had gone wide with fear. “I would ask where the three of you have been,” he paused to sip his drink, “but I know Granger is smart enough to conceal that with a Fidelius Charm.”


Harry tensed against the ropes that were magical binding him. The metallic taste of blood awoke his taste buds and mocked his struggles to remove the sodden piece of cloth that had been forced into his mouth. Snape laughed mercilessly at his attempts.


“So, Granger, how is Weasley?” Snape turned to Hermione and asked in a low hiss.


Hermione looked up in surprise as she was forced to truthfully respond, “He’s fine.” Harry too was surprised. What could Snape possibly want to know about Ron?


“Have you shagged yet?” he asked, disgust shadowing his face. Harry started involuntarily, not believing his ears.


“No,” Hermione replied through clenched teeth, her jaw muscle twitching uncontrollably.


“Have you wanted to?” Snape jeered, taking a long draught from his glass.


Harry diverted his eyes, not wanting to truly know the answer.


“Yes,” Hermione whispered stiffly, lowering her gaze to the floor, her voice infused with a combination of hatred and embarrassment. If there was one thing that could be said for Snape, it was that he knew them all very well. Harry would have preferred to be under the Cruciatus Curse than have his friend derided in such a way. Hermione was such a private person; he knew this was devastating her.


“Well, we now know this is Veritaserum. Don’t we, Granger?” Snape mocked as he summoned the rag from Harry’s mouth.


“Bastard,” Harry spat as the rag came free.


“Careful now, Potter,” Snape threatened, gesturing towards Hermione, “I could go farther, if you wish…”


Harry clamped his mouth shut, seething. Snape retrieved the small crystal vile that he had replaced on the table. With one gulp, he drank the rest of the Veritaserum.


“Well,” he snarled, “ask away…”











A/N: Hmmmmm, so what do we think? Snape: Good or Bad? Good or Bad? Good or Bad? It’s always the question, isn’t it… Thanks, as always, to my beta reader Asphyxiated, you would not be reading this without her! Please review, I’d love to hear what everyone thinks! ~ozma333

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!



If Truth be Told


Harry gaped as he looked uncertainly from Snape to Hermione.


“It really is Veritaserum, Harry,” Hermione whispered from her confined position in the aged armchair, “I’m sure of it.”


“What’s going on?” he rounded on Snape, still struggling uselessly against the ropes that secured him to his chair.


“I have just taken Veritaserum so I can answer any question you have without you fearing that I am betraying you,” Snape answered in a bored tone, pouring himself another Firewhiskey.


“Why?” Harry blurted out, unable to grasp the severity of Snape’s actions.


“Dumbledore was right to trust me, you should know you can trust me as well.”


“Don’t you dare say his name! You killed him! You-”


“No!” Snape screamed in return, rising quickly from the table and toppling the half empty bottle of liquor. “You will not insult me in my own home!”


For the first time, Harry noticed how haggard Snape looked. His sodden robes hung limply on his thinning frame; his face, though always sallow, was sunken and more pallid than usual. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, giving the impression that he hadn’t slept in months.


“If it really is Veritaserum,” Harry began through clenched teeth, “describe your worst memory of Hogwarts to me.” Harry was determined to avenge Hermione’s battered esteem in the process of ensuring the liquid Snape swallowed truly was Veritaserum and not merely transformed before it touched his sickly lips.


Snape’s face twisted unpleasantly as he sat back in his chair and recounted, with vivid detail, the afternoon he spent by lake being mocked by Harry’s father and godfather. Harry’s insides squirmed slightly as Snape neared the end of his story; the liquid definitely was Veritaserum.


“Alright,” Harry murmured, “enough.” Hermione’s widened eyes caught Harry’s; she had never before heard the story.


“Why did you kill Dumbledore?” Harry asked, diverting his eyes to the scuffed hardwood floors.


“Dumbledore made me swear I would uphold an Unforgivable Vow I had made with Draco Malfoy’s mother, Narcissa,” Snape voice came through deadened, defeated. He sank back further into his chair, his features blending with the darkened background of the dimly lit room.


“What did the vow entail?” Harry pressed.


“Draco was given an assignment to complete at Hogwarts. I gave off the impression that I knew what the assignment was, hoping she would slip and give me details.”


“Did she?”


“No.”


“The assignment was to kill…Dumbledore,” Harry asked tentatively.


“Yes. The vow was that I would help Draco complete his assignment, if he should not be able to…”


“And he wasn’t,” Harry interrupted, memories of that fateful night flooding his vision. “He couldn’t kill him, so you did.” At the finality of this statement, Hermione shuddered slightly.


“Yes.”


“Well, you should have told him you wouldn’t!” Harry roared, straining uselessly in an attempt to reach Snape. “It should be you who’s dead, not him! You should have refused! You should have-”


“I did.”


Harry’s rant stopped immediately. His throat had suddenly gone very dry.


“What good would it do the Order if I were dead, Potter?” Snape continued with an icy sneer. “Think!” He stood quickly and began pacing the room, his agitation growing with each step. “Dumbledore insisted that you were the key to Voldemort’s defeat. And, try as I may to dissuade him, he wouldn’t hear of your,” he paused to glance coldly over Harry, “inabilities.”


Harry gritted his teeth and locked eyes with his former teacher, unable to verbally retort. Instead, he focused every feeling of mistrust and hatred through his eyes. Unbidden by him, a cold voice rang through his head, deafening him, “Think, Potter! Sacrifices must be made. What is most important?”


Shaking his head violently in attempt to rid it of the unwanted presence, Harry cried out and then bellowed, “Enough!” Hermione was staring at him, wholly unaware of the connection that had just been made, but knowing all the same that something had transpired.


“Why is it important I know this?”


Snape laughed coldly. Harry was thankful he chose to do so aloud, without the use of Legilimency. “It was on Dumbledore’s orders that I killed him. In essence, I was working for the Order when I did that. I have been on the right side of this war, Potter. I can still be of use.”


“You weren’t always on the right side of this war, Snape.” Harry’s being was burning with hatred. His mind flitted back to the night Snape betrayed his parents, the night he signed their death certificates.


“No, I wasn’t,” Snape replied truthfully, without displaying any emotion.


“It was you who relayed that half prophecy to Voldemort, your fault he targeted my Mum and Dad, and me…”


“Yes, it was.” Snape flinched uncomfortably, his gaze diverting from Harry for the first time and seeking out the now empty, shattered bottle on the floor at his feet. “Reparo,” he muttered and the bottle flew into his hands repaired. Nothing could replace the contents, however, and Harry felt Snape was truly sorry he had smashed it earlier.


“Dumbledore told me that one of your greatest regrets was how Voldemort interpreted that prophecy, and who he chose to target based on what it said…”


“It is one of my greatest regrets, that is true,” Snape replied, his silky mannerisms returning.


“Why?” Harry asked, forgetting for a moment he was tied to a chair as he waited, apprehensively, for Snape’s reply.


“Are these the only questions you can think to ask me, Potter?” Snape snapped, irritated. “Useless Hogwarts history and pointless regrets? I can’t confess myself disappointed, I always knew not to expect much of you.”


Harry jaw muscle twitched and clenched uncontrollably. “How can you be of use to us then?” Harry returned, sharply resuming business.


“The Dark Lord has plans developing regarding a Ministry takeover, but he has not forgotten you,” Snape continued, tonelessly. “He wants you under control before he continues. Apparently, he feels your celebrity status may transfer undeserved hope to the masses. He does not know your ineptitude as I do…”


“I will inform you when anything new develops as well as try to reduce the number of attacks on Order members, attacks on others will be…unavoidable…”


“What of the attacks to Surrey, Diagon Alley, the Burrow?” Harry asked, his mind reeling as he remembered the scene Hermione and he were abducted from.


“Those were advances designed to draw you out, Potter,” Snape explained using that infuriating tone Hermione uses when she explains complex concepts as though they were simple mathematics. “I wondered why you didn’t come running when I nearly burned down the street by your aunt and uncle’s home, or partially destroyed the Weasley brats' shop…”


“I was unavoidably detained,” Harry responded through clenched teeth.


“Well, you may have noticed no one was injured in those attacks,” Snape continued, “I convinced the Dark Lord that attacks to those locations would infuriate you and draw you out in the open. The Death Eaters present were mere children. As it was, I had to make sure I found you first. It seems I have.”


Harry glared back in response.


“I want this to end just as much as you do, Potter. It has commanded more years of my life than of yours,” he finished with quietly controlled anger as he crossed the room to approach Harry. With a silent swish of his wand he undid the ropes around Harry’s ankles and wrists.


“I am returning this in a gesture of good faith,” Snape said smoothly as he extended Harry and Hermione’s wands towards Harry’s recently freed hand. “If you need to contact me, use your right wrist.”


Harry glanced down. Carved into the inside of his wrist, above his I must not tell lies scar and directly below the jagged scar he earned the night Voldemort returned to his body, was a new image. A very small mark was now etched into his skin, overlapping lines merged into the shape of an arrowhead.


“Touch it with your wand,” Snape continued in explanation, “the incantation is: Subvenio. Now, I would appreciate you leaving my home.”


Harry rubbed the new etched tattoo on his right wrist, aware of how this new method of communication was far too similar to the method of communication used by the Death Eaters. The thought made his stomach queasy. Rubbing the tingling sensation out of his hands, he awkwardly crossed the room to undo Hermione’s bondage.


“Oh, and Potter,” Snape’s voice rang from the darkened corner of the room as Harry reached the doorknob. His face was indiscernible amongst the shadows. “Learn Occulmency, you truly are terrible at it.”


~*~


“Hermione!” Ron shouted from the Burrow’s garden as Harry and Hermione Apparated onto the Burrow’s front door step.


“Harry,” Hermione turned pleadingly towards Harry, “please don’t tell Ron about what Snape asked me. Please…”


“Of course I won’t, Hermione,” Harry offered comfortingly just as Ron reached the pair.


“Hermione,” he murmured as he swept her into an embrace. “Are you alright?”


“Not really, no,” Hermione responded truthfully into Ron’s chest, still under the effects of the Veritaserum she had been forced to swallow.


“Harry! Hermione!” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall appeared behind the recently wrenched open front door and dragged them into the kitchen.


“Are you two alright?” Mrs. Weasley asked tentatively as Ginny shifted nervously next to her mother. Harry saw her glance at Ron and Hermione and knew that she wanted exactly what Harry wanted, to fling herself into his arms.


“We’re alright, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry responded quietly, ignoring his body aching to reach out to Ginny.


“Where were you; what happened?” Ron extracted himself from Hermione’s grip to look into her eyes with worry.


“We were at Snape’s house…” Hermione started, unable to control the words that were coming from her mouth, as she sank wearily into one of the kitchen chairs.


“Snape!” Professor McGonagall gasped. “No.”


“What did he want, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley cut in nervously, sitting across from Hermione and putting her hand on the younger woman’s.


“He wanted to tell us he is still working for the Order,” Harry began, avoiding eye contact with Ginny.


“But he’s not,” Ron started, confused, sinking into the chair next to Hermione’s “he can’t be…”


“He is,” Harry continued heavily, “he took Veritaserum before we began the conversation…”


“He could have faked that!” Ginny said angrily.


“He didn’t,” Harry stated quietly, “he forced Hermione to take some first, to prove…”


“What!” Ron interrupted, infuriated.


“What did he ask?” Professor McGonagall began slowly, “was it anything that the Order…”


“He asked how Ron was,” Hermione’s Veritaserum dose took over before Harry could open his mouth, “he asked whether or not-”


“Langlock,” Harry quickly murmured the incantation, gluing Hermione’s tongue to the roof of her mouth. “She’s still under the effects of the Veritaserum,” he mumbled in excuse. “It wasn’t anything that would endanger anyone, Snape made sure of that.” Harry’s face twisted with disgust.


Hermione glanced up at Harry gratefully before burying her face in her hands, determined not to utter another word.


“Prat,” Ginny muttered, moving behind Hermione.


“Hermione is to go straight to sleep,” Mrs. Weasley began briskly, rising from the table and taking Hermione by the arm. Ron moved to help her towards the stairs.


“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley gestured for Ron to sit back down, “will you take Hermione to your room?”


“Sure, Mum,” Ginny jumped up to follow Hermione up the stairs.


“Unglue her tongue once you’re safely in your room. And let her fall straight to sleep, young lady,” Mrs. Weasley warned, wagging a finger in Ginny’s direction. “I want you down here in five minutes.”


Hermione smiled appreciatively at Mrs. Weasley’s before disappearing up the stairs.


“Sit down, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley turned on him. “Are you hungry, dear?”


“A little bit,” Harry returned sheepishly, taking Mrs. Weasley’s advice and sinking into a nearby chair.


Over a hastily made lunch, Harry recounted in more detail the conversation he had had with Snape, excluding, as he had promised, the questioning of Hermione. The Burrow, he had learned, had withstood the barrage of attacks with only minimal damage. The Death Eaters that had been Stunned, and later arrested by the Ministry officials that had arrived late on the scene, were only teenagers. One, Professor McGonagall sadly remembered, was Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain in Harry’s third year. No one was injured, just as Snape had said, and the reason for the attack was obscure to everyone. Everyone except the people Harry had recounted his conversation to.


“Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley spoke gently to Harry after he had finished his lunch, “why don’t you go take a nap as well?”


“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied, stifling a yawn. His body still ached in the places the ropes had been fastened and he couldn’t deny that his recently attained wounds were causing difficulty in his breathing.


~*~


Harry awoke to a darkened room and a loud snoring sound issuing from the far corner. He rose and found his way to the staircase, tripping over only one pack of self-shuffling playing cards on his way. A raucous squeal startled Harry as he passed Ginny’s bedroom door on his way downstairs.


“Ginny?” Harry knocked on her door.


“Hello, Harry,” a giggling, red-faced Ginny whispered as she ripped open the door. “I was just testing to see if the Veritaserum had worn off.” Ginny sniggered as she open the door a little wider to reveal an embarrassed looking Hermione sitting on Ginny’s bed. “Apparently, it hasn’t.”


“She did swallow quite a lot,” Harry said appraisingly, looking Hermione over. “You alright, Hermione?”


Hermione nodded in return, blushing furiously.


“It’s like she drank a whole bottle of Firewhiskey,” Ginny laughed in response, “she can’t control a word coming out of her mouth.” Ginny was laughing so hard, Harry wondered how she could be breathing.


“Ginny!” Harry admonished.


“No, it’s alright, Harry,” Hermione returned cheerfully, though her face was still shining. “Ginny and I never get to have these conversations. It’s quite nice actually…”


Ginny stuffed her fist into her mouth in an attempt to ebb her laughter.


“Ginny! How can you take advantage-” Harry started, but Ginny’s eyes were welling with tears of laughter.


“Normally, Ginny has no problem talking about these things. I tend to be a bit more…conservative…”


“Really, Hermione,” Harry began, elbowing his way into the room, “just what things does Ginny have no problem discussing with you?”


Ginny leapt across the room with the agility of a cat as she tackled Hermione unto the bed and covered her mouth. Hermione closed her eyes in embarrassment, realizing what she was about to reveal and having no means to control it.


“Maybe, we should call it a night,” Ginny relented, panting slightly and no longer giggling.


“I just woke up!” Harry exclaimed, leaning against the doorframe.


“I know, you slept all day,” Ginny ribbed, rolling off Hermione and patting the older girl’s arm, “it’s eleven o’clock, everyone else has already gone to sleep!”


Harry shrugged. “I’m still not that tired. I think I’ll go downstairs and just…er…read for a bit,” Harry stated as he closed the door quietly to Ginny’s room. “Goodnight.”


As he shut the door, Harry thought he heard Hermione whisper, “I think he wants you to follow him.” He hoped Ginny thought so as well.


~*~


Harry wandered into the Burrow’s garden, his head spinning with thoughts of Ginny and trying to recall when the strength in his decision regarding his relationship with her had begun falter. He stopped at the edge of the overgrown patch, extending his hands to the top of the worn wooden gate. The autumn wind picked up and sent a charred remainder of the oak trees’ foliage whipping past him. He inhaled deeply as he gazed over the pond, which was reflecting the starry sky in its depths.


The recent days had shocked Harry more than he was prepared to admit. He had been so sure he was doing the right thing in keeping Ginny from the war, but here she was today, in the midst of fighting regardless of her relationship status with Harry. He had to admit, he was proud of her. In reality, he wouldn’t have expected anything less. The advice of all the people who surrounded him was floating through his head. Aunt Petunia’s murmured counsel, Lupin’s gentle urgings, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s careful hinting, Hermione’s recent lecture…


He remembered the past few years; he remembered Sirius’s death, and Dumbledore’s. It was horrible to think, but if he had had all the information, if he knew Voldemort was planning to implant false visions into his mind in his fifth year, if he knew Dumbledore’s reasons for trusting Snape, would everything have turned out as it had? Would Sirius still be alive, would Dumbledore? And here he was now, refusing to tell Ginny anything, refusing to include her in any of their plans. Harry felt discomfited for thinking it, but maybe he had been wrong…


“Harry,” Ginny whispered from the open doorway, her silhouette softly outlined with the glow of the Burrow’s kitchen.


“I thought you were going to ‘call it a night,’” Harry teased softly, turning and leaning on the fence.


Ginny shrugged as she made her way slowly through the unkempt grass, wrapping her dressing gown firmly around her as she approached. “Thought you could use some company,” she returned quietly, a soft smile playing on the corners of her mouth.


Ginny silently took her place besides Harry as he turned to face the meadow once more. Harry felt her finger the sleeve of his jumper.


“Oh, Harry,” she murmured, pulling the jumper sleeve up past his forearm. “This is terrible.” Harry hadn’t even noticed the reddened, open areas on his wrists, undoubtedly caused by the ropes Snape had used mercilessly to bind him. “Sanescere,” she whispered and Harry felt both his ankles and wrist warm slightly as the marks disappeared.


“Ginny,” Harry caught her eye, “you are incredible.”


Ginny blushed sincerely as she broke eye contact, gazing once more over the sparkling pond.


“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Harry began slowly, suddenly feeling his throat constrict. “About what you said on the night of my birthday…” Harry felt Ginny nervously shift by his side, but her head rose slowly and her eyes locked with his.


“And?” she spoke softly.


“And, I think you’re right,” he continued. “You do deserve better…” Harry stopped and leaned straight-armed into the garden’s fence, hanging his head in between his outstretched arms.


“Harry,” Ginny prompted gently, turning to face his profile.


“I just didn’t want to tell you anything that anyone would want to…well, torture you for,” Harry continued, keeping his eyes trained on the muddy ground.


“We’ve been through this before, Harry,” Ginny’s said firmly, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.


“I know, Ginny, it’s just…I’m…confused.”


“Confused about what?”


“You…us…” Harry answered slowly, thoughtfully. He directed his gaze straight ahead, keeping both hands outstretched on the garden wall to steady himself.


“Us?” she prodded gently, her red hair lifting lightly in the breeze. He nodded in return.


“This has been harder than I ever could imagine it being,” Harry responded truthfully, feeling a need to confide in her, a lump rising in his throat. Without having to say it, Harry knew she understood he was talking about their separation. This time is was Ginny who nodded in agreement.


They stood silently for a moment, the calm night air punctuated only by the occasional sound of a bullfrog from the nearby pond. Ginny moved slowly to duck under Harry’s outstretched arms, facing him. Harry could feel her body lightly pressing against his own; he swallowed hard against his throat. Ginny looked into his eyes as she fingered the present she had given him that was now hanging around his neck.


“You know, this is meant to work only if the emotion behind the incantation is genuine,” she said tenderly.


“Ginny…” Harry attempted quietly, realizing that he knew long ago what the charm Ginny had placed on the phoenix bezoar truly meant.


“Harry,” she interrupted, silencing him with a well-placed finger on his lips, “it means I love you.” Ginny spoke without restraint, staring him fixedly in the eye with that hard blazing look Harry had come to admire.


“I love you, too,” he whispered in return, realizing for the first time, he truly returned the feeling. Mirrored in Ginny’s eyes were the same images of frustration, longing, pain, and injustice that he felt burning in his own eyes. Neither could remember who began it, but soon their lips met and they were kissing. It was bittersweet and urgent, full of passion. To Harry, it felt like he had just arrived from a long and painful Apparition, like the invisible bands that were binding him were finally cut loose. As they broke apart, gasping from the intensity and longing of the shared kiss, Harry pulled her into him and held her close, inhaling the sweet fragrances of her hair as he rested his chin on her forehead.


“I can’t do this without you,” he murmured.


“You won’t have to,” she whispered back.


~*~



“Oi! What’s this?” Fred and George stood stunned in the doorway to the living room. Harry and Ginny had woken early and met there, eager to continue their reconciliation.


“Good morning,” Harry said sheepishly, disentangling himself from their younger sister.


“A better morning for some, eh Harry?” Fred’s voice was more menacing than Harry hoped he intended.


“Good morning, dears,” Mrs. Weasley appeared, from around the corner, “you’re all up early. Fred and George, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Weasley moved toward the stove to begin breakfast, not noticing the reddened face of Harry, nor the glares of her sons who were standing in the doorframe.


“We are interrupting Harry and Ginny apparently,” George continued, not taking his eyes from Harry.


“What, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked distractedly from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the edge of the apron she had just donned. “Oh, Ginny, dear! Did Harry finally come around?” Mrs. Weasley frowned slightly as she rounded the corner, taking in the sight of the two embarrassed teenagers.


“Yes, Mum,” Ginny mumbled, glaring at her older brothers.


“You knew about this?” George demanded promptly, rounding on his mother.


“We all knew, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said over her shoulder, wheeling to return to the recently started breakfast.


“How come no one told us?” Fred inquired, momentarily forgetting his aggravation with Harry and striding into the kitchen to nick a biscuit.


“We rather hoped Ginny or Harry would inform you,” Mrs. Weasley replied, smacking Fred’s hand away from the biscuits floating towards the kitchen table. “Ron and Hermione have yet to say anything…”


“That we noticed,” George sniggered, his gaze still focused fixedly at Harry.


“Yes, how could you not?” Mrs. Weasley moved to the living room door. “Harry, Ginny, breakfast will be ready soon. Why don’t you two go wake Ron and Hermione?”


“Sure, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry answered quickly, eager to remove himself from the intense stare of the two Weasley brothers.


~*~


“How’d that go, mate?” Harry asked a reddened Ron as he and Hermione entered Ron’s bedroom after breakfast. Ginny and Harry had been waiting for the two after Ginny, not so subtly, suggested they finally inform Molly of their change of status.


“Er, well, I suppose,” Ron returned, diverting his eyes.


“I knew we should have told her sooner!” Hermione hissed, eyeing Ron.


“So, she didn’t care you were…erm…living together,” Ginny asked, smirking from the corner.


“You know it’s not like that!” Hermione shot from across the room, casting a dirty look. Ginny laughed heartily.


“We’ve been informed that you two…well…” Ron started uncomfortably.


“Yeah,” Harry grinned sheepishly.


“Right…” Ron nodded. Ginny and Hermione exchanged amused glances.


“Are we going back home today, Harry?” Hermione changed the subject hopefully.


“I think so,” Harry answered, his eyes trained on Ginny. She was leaning on the windowsill, her eyes suddenly cast downward. “When do you have to be back at school, Ginny?”


Her eyes shot up, confused. “Professor McGonagall asked me to return tonight.”


Harry looked towards Hermione, who nodded encouragingly.


“Would you like to…” Harry started tentatively, “…come see the house?” Harry hadn’t told Ginny details of where they had been living, only that they had protected it with the Fidelius Charm. He was more concerned with other, less pressing, matters that morning.


“Oh, Harry!” Ginny shouted, jumping off the windowsill and flinging herself into his arms. “Of course!”


“Good,” he answered over Ron’s embarrassed coughing, “because I have something important I need to ask you to do…”





A/N: Ok! Cliffie break, as I promised! Now, do you all get the Trocair Charm? It extends the power of love from the charm’s caster (Ginny) to the wearer of the object charmed (Harry). Good thing he was wearing it, eh? And, yes, finally…they are back together! Well, that being said, I am having immense difficulty starting up the next chapter…so much so, that I had to begin chapter 11 and 12, which are going quite well, but the writers block for chapter 10 is infuriating! So, bear with me, all will be in soon…I hope! ~Ozma333


Oh, and I don’t really need to say it do I: I love reviews… Thanks in advance and thanks for the patience while I finally got this chapter together! Hope you’re still enjoying it!

DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!


Chapter 9:“Would you like to…” Harry started tentatively, “…come see the house?” Harry hadn’t told Ginny details of where they had been living, only that they had protected it with the Fidelius Charm. He was more concerned with other, less pressing, matters that morning.


“Oh, Harry!” Ginny shouted, jumping off the windowsill and flinging herself into his arms. “Of course!”


“Good,” he answered over Ron’s embarrassed coughing, “because I have something important I need to ask you to do…”



The Secret-Keeper


Hermione fell unto the couch, closed her eyes, and murmured, “Finally,” as Ron collapsed into the armchair. Harry was surprised to find that he was homesick for their little cottage in Godric’s Hollow and was just as surprised to find that Ron and Hermione obviously felt the same way.


Ginny stood nervously in the front door until Hermione opened her eyes, smiled, and patted the seat next to her. She immediately crossed the room to sit by her friend.


“I didn’t realize how much I miss this shack,” Ron muttered, his eyes still closed.


“Neither did I,” Hermione returned, “and don’t call it a shack!”


Harry grinned as he took Ginny by the hand and led her around a tour of the cottage, after which he was determined to tell her everything he was always afraid of her knowing.


~*~


Ginny simultaneously looked stunned, scared, exhausted, and excited as she sank lower into the couch that Hermione had spent three hours of transfiguration on to get it to look “just right” for their living room.


“Ginny?” Harry attempted hopefully. He, with continual interruptions from Ron and Hermione, had just explained, in full context, their plan for the coming months.


“We know this is a lot,” Hermione continued gently, covering the younger girls hand with her own as she moved closer to her on the couch.


Harry was starting to think it would have been better to space the contents of this conversation out. Perhaps learning of the Prophecy, Voldemort’s childhood, the Horcruxes, Harry’s last fateful night with Dumbledore, and the disastrous first attempt at destroying a Horcrux all in one evening was a bit much. He also felt all their future plans hinged on the question he had just asked her, and wasn’t sure what he would do if she refused…


“Gin!” Ron tried more forcefully than either Harry or Hermione, as he launched a rolled up piece of parchment at his sister’s forehead. This resulted in Hermione shooting a nasty look in Ron’s direction.


“Harry,” Ginny stirred as Ron’s well-aimed missile hit her, shaking her head slightly as she came out of her reverie, “I can’t.”


“Wait, what?” Harry asked, confused. Ron’s jaw dropped and he muttered, “Ginny!” Hermione beamed.


“I was hoping you’d refuse!” Hermione said to Ginny, smiling broadly. “I agree with Ginny,” she finished empathically, challenging the boys with a look.


“You…you do?” Harry asked, stunned. “But, who else could it be? Who else could we trust? I know it’s dangerous to ask, but…”


“It’s not that it’s too dangerous, Harry,” Ginny interrupted quickly. “It’s not a question of danger at all.” Ron sat staring at his sister as a look of dawning comprehension flashed across his face. “But, I’d be more useful if I were with you, right by your side.”


“Ginny, no,” Harry began, “confiding in you is one thing, having you…”


“Having me what?” Ginny asked, firing up. “I can fight just as well as any of you! Now that I know everything, I might as well go along!”


“And, if we get injured, she knows more healing spells than any of us,” Hermione added. Ginny fervently nodded.


“I’m getting very good at it…”


Harry was trying to think of an excuse, trying to find a way in which he could ensure Ginny would remain free from danger. He thought asking her to be the Ni Sannfaid (or as Ron insisted, the Secret-Keeper) would have solved his problems. According to their agreement with Professor McGonagall, the Secret-Keeper would stay away from the battles and be in constant contact with the Order. Ginny seemed to fit the description perfectly, or at least, Harry wished she would. He was about to insist that his suggestion was the best, that it was the only way he’d allow her to participate, when a voice he wasn’t expecting spoke up.


“Hermione and Ginny are right, Harry,” Ron offered quietly. Both girls shot their heads in Ron’s direction. “Ginny is more than capable and you can’t say she wouldn’t be useful.”


Harry opened and shut his mouth uselessly. If Ron had given his approval, there was no way Harry could argue the matter further.



“Where are you off to?” Ron asked as Ginny un-expectantly jumped up from the couch.


“I think we should start with me seeing those memories,” Ginny responded, disappearing into the cottage’s makeshift study.


“I think she took it all rather well,” Ron said, rising from his chair and making his way to the kitchen. “Hermione, did you pick up any butterbeer?” he asked, his head already shoved into the refrigerator.


Hermione followed Ron, rolling her eyes in his wake.


“So how does this work, exactly?” Harry caught up with Ginny in the study and found her holding up a small bottle of swirling memory, her hand shaking slightly.


“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively.


“Of course.”


“Ginny.”


Putting down the bottle she turned to face him. “I had no idea…” she began, her eyes shifting to the floor.


“I know, Ginny,” Harry began desperately, he thought telling her everything was what they needed. The last thing he wanted was to change Ginny’s opinion of him. “I didn’t want to scare anyone. I didn’t even tell Ron and Hermione about the prophecy until Dumbledore told me to.”


Ginny, sensing Harry’s fear, locked eyes with him. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she started, crossing the room and grasping his hands, “nothing you will ever tell me will change how I feel about you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there for you. Now that I know, we’ll do this together.” Ginny flung her arms about Harry and he released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.


“I mean, alright,” Ginny continued teasingly, her voice stifled in Harry’s chest, “who didn’t know about the whole ‘Chosen One’ thing, it was all over the Daily Prophet!”


Harry was so delighted that she didn’t hate him, or fear him, and still wanted to be with him, even after all he had just explained to her, that he kissed her.


“Oi! If I can’t snog Hermione in this house than you shouldn’t be doing that either!” came Ron’s slightly muffled voice from the doorway. He was shoving a sandwich that Hermione had just made for him into his mouth while holding a butterbeer tucked under one arm. Hermione’s eyes darted confusingly to Ron.


“Who said you can’t snog Hermione?” Ginny returned defiantly, though her eyes were smiling.


“Harry,” Ron replied plainly, a smirk crossing his features. A look of comprehension fleetingly crossed Hermione’s face.


“I didn’t mean that…I just meant…you know…” Harry began feebly to the amused looks of both the Weasley siblings and the confused look of Hermione. “It may be a bit…strange…to walk in on…”


“Harry!” Hermione admonished, a look of incomprehension plastered on her face. “We are all supposed to be adults here! Honestly, if Ron and I being together is that much of a concern for you…”


“It’s not that, Hermione!” Harry hastened to say.


Hermione stared back, confused.


“It’s just that, you’re sort of…” Harry eyes dropped to the floor, wishing there was another way to appease her, “like a…like a sister to me, and…”


He didn’t need to finish because Hermione’s face quickly broke into a smile as she interrupted. “Oh, Harry!” she said, her eyes misting. “I understand.” Harry could feel the heat rising from his face.


“Wait,” Ron started, with the look of someone who had just realized that their master plan had backfired, “does this mean we get to start snogging more, or not?”


For an answer, Hermione crossed the room and kissed him soundly.


“Well, I guess this answers your question from last night, Hermione,” Ginny sniggered.


“What question?” Ron asked, slightly dazed, as Hermione’s face redden brilliantly.


“Never you mind,” Hermione answered as she dragged him from the room. “We’ve dishes to do while Ginny has a go at those memories.” Ron groaned audibly and Hermione gave Ginny an exasperated sort of look that clearly indicated it was not at all the dishes that Hermione was looking forward to doing.


Harry looked down at Ginny questioningly as she burst into laughter.


“The other night, under the influence of that Veritaserum, which by the way we definitely have to brew, I’ve never had so much fun…” Ginny paused to giggle. “Anyway, Hermione was wondering why Ron didn’t attempt to snog more often, I mean after his displays with Lavender, one would have thought…” Harry laughed heartily as he and his girlfriend readied themselves for a plunge into forgotten memories.


~*~


“Well, that was the last one,” Harry said loudly as he and Ginny stepped out of the Pensieve several hours later. At the sound of his voice, Ginny and Harry heard a distant scrambling. Ginny nodded wisely to Harry, she was right that they may have to give an extra loud warning of their return.


“Back so soon?” asked a particularly disheveled and breathless Hermione as she hastened to the study’s doorway.


“Yes,” replied Ginny, smirking as she glanced out a nearby window at the darkening sky. “It took us no time at all!” she continued sarcastically. Harry heard the sound of water running start and plates begin to bang together.


Ron had busied himself at the sink.


“Sorry to leave you with those dishes, mate,” Harry said, smiling as he and Ginny collapsed at the dinner table. “Looks like they’ve taken you all day.”


“Yeah,” Ron returned smiling broadly, his hair sticking out all over the place, “it’s been hard work, but someone had to do it!” Hermione had followed them into the kitchen, her face rapidly coloring.


“Well,” Hermione broke in, clearing her throat, “right. So, you’ve seen the memories then?”


“Yes,” Ginny returned, “but I don’t have any ideas…”


“There’s not much more to go on from those,” Hermione agreed, accepting the clean dishes from Ron and air-drying them with the tip of her wand.


“No,” Harry admitted, “there’s not.” He strode to the refrigerator and opened a bottle of butterbeer for himself and Ginny. “I was thinking of checking out the orphanage a little more closely.”


“Really?” Hermione asked, surprised. “I didn’t get the impression that anything would be hidden there.”


“Well, he did feel powerful there, didn’t he?” Ron countered. “Better than all the other orphans and whatever…”


“I suppose,” Hermione conceded grudgingly, “but…”


“Well, before we do that, we have something else to do first,” Harry interrupted, feeling disgruntled that his one idea of who could filled the requirements for the Secret-Keeper had faded so rapidly.


“Harry,” Ginny spoke up, her eyes widening considerably, “I know the perfect person to ask!”


~*~


After another hour or so of chatting and teasing each other by a conjured fire in the living room, Ginny left the trio, and Godric’s Hollow, promising to see Harry that weekend, “No matter what McGonagall has to say about it!” Harry was unsure of her suggestion of who might become the Secret-Keeper, but he couldn’t deny they were in desperate need for one. Now that they had decided on the next place to search for a Horcrux, and after their last disastrous attempt, Harry refused to go without first securing the information he promised for the Order. Resolving to leave that decision for the weekend, he focused instead on another thought that had been plaguing him.


“Learn Occulmency, you truly are terrible at it.” The words of his former Potions Master were echoing in his head. “He had so easily been able to invade my mind,” Harry thought miserably. Harry knew he would never stand the chance of sealing his mind against Voldemort, and he had now known for some time that there would come a moment in which he’d have to…


“Harry,” Hermione interrupted Harry’s thought process. He dragged his eyes from the fire he had been staring into. “Are you alright?”


Harry refocused his eyes on his friends face. Ron was snoring lightly in the armchair, having nodded off to sleep minutes before. Hermione was gathering her things, getting ready for the night.


“Fine,” Harry lied. Hermione stopped gathering her books to appraise her friend. “Except,” Harry conceded, focusing once more on the dancing flames, “what Snape said…”


“Occulmency?” Hermione guessed. Harry nodded. “I may have a solution,” Hermione whispered, glancing quickly in Ron’s direction. He gave a soft snort before resuming his steady snores. “Viktor is an accomplished Occlumens. He would give you lessons, I’m sure of it.”


“Really?” Harry sat up with intrigue. “I never knew that.”


“Well, you know how Ron gets when I talk about him,” Hermione huffed, shifting the heavy books in her hands. “I’ll ask him this weekend…just as soon as I break it to Ron…” Hermione sighed and gave her boyfriend one last fleeting glance before kissing Harry on the cheek and whispering, “Goodnight.”


Harry kicked at Ron’s feet as soon as Hermione left. He woke with a start, grunted heavily, and followed Harry to their shared bedroom.


~*~


“Good morning,” Harry yawned, stumbling into the kitchen. It was Friday, which meant only one more day until he could see Ginny. Their correspondence had been non-existent; it was too much of a risk to be owling each other every day. Tomorrow was also the day they approached the possible Secret-Keeper and, if Hermione kept her word, the day he began Occulmency lessons. Harry acknowledged that he should be more apprehensive, but the possibility of seeing Ginny again calmed his nerves considerably.


“Good morning to you, Harry,” Ron said in an incredibly stiff voice as he stuffed a very blackened piece of toast into his mouth with a grimace.


“What happened to your breakfast?” Harry asked with a grin.


“Ronald decided to make his own breakfast today,” Hermione answered sweetly from the other side of the table, her own plate full of eggs, sausages, buttered toast, and jam.


“Oh, right. I don’t have to do that as well, do I?”


“Oh, no,” Hermione answered, her voice dripping in honeyed tones, “I’d be more than happy to whip something up for you.”


“Right, thanks,” Harry responded uneasily, glancing towards Ron.


“I spoke to Viktor last night, Harry,” Hermione began in a small voice as she turned towards the stove. “I flooed him to ask about the lessons.” Harry immediately understood why Ron had refused a breakfast prepared by Hermione.


Ron snorted. Hermione stiffened but continued in a stronger voice.


“He said he’d be happy to help, but that you’d need to bring a friend along for training.”


Ron coughed loudly.


“I told him we would be at the manor tomorrow,” Hermione continued, summoning a plate to put Harry’s newly cooked breakfast unto.


Ron grunted.


“What?” Hermione returned viciously, whipping around.


“Just can’t wait to see him, can you?” Ron shot back, pushing the scraps of what one could hardly call food away from him.


Hermione took a deep breath and turned away from both Harry and Ron, instead focusing her attention on arranging the newly cooked food on Harry’s plate.


“Mate,” Harry attempted with caution, “I asked Hermione to help me with this. I think we could all use some lessons…”


“You want me to take lessons from that…that…”


“That what, Ron?” Hermione demanded, unable to contain herself.


“Do you know what that would be like for me?” Ron countered, rising from his chair. “Taking lessons from your old-”


“Would it be as bad as sharing a dorm with the girl that snogged the life out of your…your…” But Hermione couldn’t seem to put a name to what Ron was to her then. Instead, she growled in frustration. “How do you think it was for me? Living with Lavender when you were tangled in her every night…do you think she didn’t talk about it…I had to listen…stupid cow…” But tears were welling in Hermione’s eyes and she couldn’t continue. Throwing Harry’s breakfast unto the table, she stormed into her room and, very loudly reciting the incantation, locked her door.


Ron stood in the kitchen white-faced and stunned. He cleared his throat uncertainly.


“You know we need help with this, Ron,” Harry began, picking at his food as he spoke. “We don’t know anyone else we can trust…”


“How do you know we can trust Krum?” Ron demanded.


“Hermione trusts him.”


Ron shot daggers as he sat across from Harry and stabbed at Harry’s eggs with his fork. “I know she does,” he muttered.


“She’s a smart girl, you know,” Harry continued, “which doesn’t explain how she fell for you, but…”


Ron sniffed and reached for Harry’s sausage.


“Ron…”


“I know,” Ron began, keeping his eyes focused on the table in front of him, “I have a lot of apologizing to do, don’t I?”


“I’d say so,” Harry grinned. “It may take a while…”


Ron sighed, but exited the kitchen just the same. Harry heard a knock and then a whispered, “Alohomora.”


~*~


The next morning dawned bright and clear, though cold for the late October season. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just Apparated to the front of Professor McGonagall’s temporary manor. Harry hadn’t the chance to notice its’ beauty the last time he was outside it, as he had been hurrying to the battle at the Burrow. Now that he stood in front of it, he was in awe at how magnificent it truly was.


“Wow,” Harry said admiringly as he gazed at the enormous structure before him. Two large wings lined the center courtyard, ivy dripping from their eaves. The heart of the building swelled above it’s complements, casting a long shadow in its’ path. The long windows adorning the stone-faced sides were shining in the early morning sun. Students had gathered in the square to enjoy a morning free from their studies.


“It’s a nice location, too,” Ron agreed, nodding his head towards the left. “There’s a secluded stream over there. S’not bad.” For some reason, Hermione flushed brilliantly.


Harry, Ron, and Hermione strode across the grounds and to the front entrance. Ron was looking progressively nervous, at one point snatching Hermione’s hand in his own and letting her lead him forward. Harry knew the reason for Ron’s slow change in attitude and at one point felt vaguely guilty that he had to ask Ron to endure lessons with Hermione’s ex-boyfriend. But, Harry knew there were no other alternatives and resolved to help Ron in any way that he could.


As they crossed the front entrance’s threshold, Harry was immediately tackled as his vision was obscured by waves of ginger hair.


“I’m glad to see you, too,” he grinned into her embrace.


Ginny sighed contentedly. “It was like the weekend would never come! I’m so glad you’re here early!”


Ron coughed.


“Where can we perform the charm?” Hermione asked in a whisper as Ginny disentangled herself from Harry.


“He’s waiting in the common room, my bedroom should be deserted by now,” Ginny responded, taking Harry by the hand and leading him towards the center staircase that ascended magnificently in the middle of the entranceway.


When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had last been to the manor, Professor McGonagall had housed them in quarters separate from the student population. So, this would be his first glimpse at the housing arrangements for the students. The manor’s common room strongly reminded him of the comfortable Gryffindor surroundings he was so used to. A fireplace was central in the room, surrounded by squashy chairs decorated to represent the various colors of the abandoned Hogwarts Houses. On each of the four walls hung a tapestry depicting the old House Crests. Professor McGonagall seemed determined to keep alive the tradition of Hogwarts; this room was draped in remembrance. Harry was glad for it.


“Harry! Ron, Hermione!” a familiar round face came bounding towards them as they entered the partially deserted common room. “Last time you ran out so fast, we didn’t have a chance to catch up!”


Harry smiled warmly at his old friend. He could be rubbish in the classroom and as clumsy as Grawp, but he was brave and loyal and there when you needed him. And, Harry needed his help now more than ever.


“It’s good to see you,” Harry returned. “Actually, we have something important we need to ask you…”


“Alright,” Neville replied hesitantly, “what’s up?”


A/N And so…it’s been a long while and for those still reading…I lovingly appreciate your vigilance! While I had many problems initiating this chapter, I had many more finding the time to post it. I am sorry! Among those problems was the loss of a truly fantastic beta: Asphyxiated. This is the first of my un-betaed chapters since the second. So, if there is awkwardness and inconsistencies…I’ll use that as my excuse! In that vein, if any of you fans are experienced betas and want to devote the time, drop me a line in your reviews! I can’t guarantee my life will slow down, but I have a couple upcoming chapters still left in me…and that’s all I can promise for now! For all the support, reviews, and attentiveness…I truly thank you! ~Ozma333

mugglenet fanfiction betas: I have checked and triple checked. This story was rejected because of line spacing formatting. Neither on Word or your site can I find anywhere where the line spacing is less than or greater than 2 spaces. I may have missed it, sorry! Thank you for your attention. -Erin (please erase comment before posting)


DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!


Riddle’s Orphanage


Neville had agreed instantly to become the Secret-Keeper. Though his eyes widened characteristically as Harry outlined his plan for the coming months, Neville was quick to promise his assistance. Harry’s heart had swelled with pride at his fellow Gryffindor’s surge of courage. Hermione had preformed the charm quickly, Neville gulping audibly by the end, and by lunchtime Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny found themselves rushing to see Krum.


“Herm-own-ninny!” Krum strode up towards Hermione with his arms held wide open. Hermione smiled and extended her hand in greeting, sparing one sideways glance at Ron, who had devoted himself to studying the bare thread carpet on Krum’s office floor. Krum stopped appraisingly, feet from Hermione, and then, grinning brusquely, kissed her hand affectionately before turning on the rest. They had all just let themselves into Krum’s office. Harry found a vast library adorning one wall complete with titles such as Embracing the Dark Arts for Their Defeat and What One Can Learn from the Other Side of Magic. Harry thought them to be odd titles for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but then reminded himself that Durmstrang had very different priorities. The rest of the room was crammed with Dark Detectors and various instruments Harry had seen throughout his years, including a battered Pensieve and, suspended from the high ceiling, one very old broomstick.


“Harry! How haff you been?” Krum asked, shaking Harry’s hand.


“Er, well.”


“Miss Veasley, good to see you out of class.”


“Hello, Professor,” Ginny mumbled and Harry grinned inwardly at how awkward it must be for Ginny to address Krum as “Professor” knowing it was her best mates ex-boyfriend.


“And, Ron,” Krum continued, “it is nice to see you again.” Looking as though it pained him greatly, Ron extended his hand towards Krum with the reply, “Viktor. Nice to see you, too.” Hermione, Harry, and Ginny all let out a collective breath.


“Herm-own-ninny tells me you haff a need for Occulmency lessons,” Krum continued, offering them all seats.


“Yeah, I do,” Harry replied as Krum sat behind his desk, observing them.


“And you haff had lessons before, I vas told,” he pressed.


“I have, but they were a disaster,” Harry said.


Krum nodded his understanding. “Whom did you practice vith?”


“Just Snape,” Harry replied, his face involuntarily twisting as he said the name. No matter how much he knew about Snape’s loyalties, he would never forgive him for the way he had treated all of them for so many years.


“You misunderstand me. He taught you, but whose mind did you practice in?” Krum continued.


“It was just him and me…I saw in his mind a bit, without meaning to.”


Krum frowned. “Vell, that could be the problem. I told Herm-own-ninny that you would need a friend because the easiest way to learn Occulmency is to start with non-barrier Legilimency.” Harry didn’t know what that would entail, but he was not at all excited. All he could remember was the horrible headaches remaining after his sessions with Snape, and the pain in his knees as they continually collided with the floor. Something in his face must have conveyed that message because Krum just grinned. “I know it sounds invading, but it is the best way to master the defense.”


“What would the non-barrier Legilimency entail, Viktor?” Hermione asked tentatively. She appeared to be the only one of the four to grasp what Viktor was saying, both Weasleys were shrugging at each other.


“Vhat you and vhatever friend you bring along vould be asked to do is allow the other person full access to your thoughts. You haff to relax and grant them admission to vhatever thought or scenario floats through your mind. I remember my first time,” Viktor laughed appreciatively, “it vas a very uncomfortable exchange…”


Harry shifted slightly in his chair. He had immediately thought of Ginny. He undoubtedly trusted her and would give her un-obstructed access to his thoughts, but just as suddenly flashes of thoughts that he did not want her to see came rushing past. It was not so much that he wanted to keep things from her, but some things he wanted to be able to share in time. He didn’t want scenes of him being locked under the cupboard at number four Privet Drive, or being bullied in middle school, to flash through while she was being given unguarded access. Pity was one thing Harry didn’t need at this moment. If Ginny saw some of the things that had happened to him, he was sure pity would be the one thing he was going to get. There were some things that a bloke’s girlfriend just didn’t need to see firsthand!


Harry’s mind reviewed what Snape had had access to during his previous lessons in fifth year; Cedric dying, Ripper and that damn tree, kissing Cho… And as much as he wanted to deny it, he did not want to see visions of Ginny with Michael Corner, or Dean for that matter…


Ron was another story. Although he could handle having Ron see embarrassing moments, like being bullied by Dudley, without fear that Ron will want to mother him to death, he knew for a fact that Ron could not handle any images of Harry and his younger sister…or the dreams he had of his younger sister for that matter…


And that left only one person. Harry could handle having Hermione see things that had transpired between Ginny and himself, in fact he was almost positive she knew most of it anyway. The pity would be a larger obstacle, but, with a firm talk, Harry may be able to overcome that. Hermione really was the only choice…


“Right, well, I can do that,” Harry began again uncomfortably. He glanced around, Ron looked horrorstruck at the thought and Ginny was avoiding his eyes. Hermione was fiddling nervously in her chair. “Er, Ginny,” and her eyes snapped to his, “it’s not that I don’t want to share things with you…but, well I…”


“It’s alright, Harry,” Ginny responded, actually sounding slightly relieved. “I mean, I would do it with you, if you asked me to…but…” Her face reddened slightly. “There are some things…I’d rather tell you about than have you witness first hand…”


Harry laughed in relief.


“Wait,” Ron cut through, “you’re not asking me are you? ‘Cause mate I don’t think I could stand to see…” he broke off awkwardly, glancing in Ginny’s direction. Ginny smacked him in the arm and muttered, “Prat!”


“Actually, no…” Harry interrupted, “I was going to ask Hermione.” Ron looked as relieved as his sister as Harry turned to Hermione. “I know it’s a lot to ask…”


“Of course I will,” Hermione responded, though admittedly looking rather nervous.


“Well, now that’s settled,” Krum started in again, “Shall ve say next weekend? Saturday?”


After agreeing on the time, the foursome quickly left Harry and Hermione’s new Professor’s office.


“Now that that’s done,” Hermione asked awkwardly after leaving Krum’s office, “should we try and find…” she broke off as a nearby student passed, but everyone knew what she was talking about. Harry was adamant to search the orphanage Riddle grew up in. He had spent most of the week researching its’ location and finally felt confident that he had found the correct one. Although Hermione seemed positive that the place would be Horcrux-free, Harry simply couldn’t sit still any longer. He needed to keep searching, even if the location was questionable.


“We can go tonight,” Harry responded after the younger student had passed. “Ginny, we will meet you here at eleven. I’ll Side-Along Apparate you to the place.”


Ginny nodded in agreement as the foursome hurried off to find some kind of lunch.


~*~


Four soft pops broke the night noises of what was once a bustling, old-fashioned London street, as four teenagers seemed to materialize out of thin air. The hissing street lanterns flicked out in turn as one figure held an object that looked mysteriously like a Muggle lighter. There were no cars in sight and the only other beings to be seen were two cats, which were spitting and fighting over an old tin can. Though, it couldn’t be denied that whispers and footsteps could be heard from the darkened alley directly behind them.


“Looks abandoned, doesn’t it?” The whispered voice of Ron broke the apprehension of the foursome, who were standing stock still in the mouth of the long alleyway. But, just as he said it, a light flickered on in the large square building that stood across the street. From what Harry could judge by his first visit into the Pensieve, the light belonged in the office of the buildings matron. The structure looked just as dingy, though perhaps more appropriately placed. The run down appearance of the building blended more naturally with the deserted feel of the street, contrary to the lively, busy road it had once been.


Glass broke not so far behind them.


“Let’s get moving,” Hermione whispered, nervously glancing behind them, her hand tightening over her wand.


They began moving slowly from the darkness behind them when Harry threw an arm out to stop them, “It’s chained.” One glance confirmed his statement, the large iron gate that was freely open back when Dumbledore had come to retrieve a young Tom Riddle, was now barred by a heavy chain.


“We can unlock it,” Ginny replied, looking questioningly towards Harry.


“I just don’t want anyone to know we’re here. We have to stay quiet.” Harry felt Hermione tug at his arm and point to a large dumpster propped against the iron fencing.


“Let’s just climb,” she suggested. “No magic, no detection…”


Silently agreeing, Harry drew out his invisibility cloak.


“There’s no way it’ll fit us all, mate,” Ron reasoned, but the voices behind them were becoming clearer. Harry didn’t want to be detected by Death Eaters, but he was also keen to avoid the sort of men who would lurk in alleys at this time of night, Muggle or wizard…


He hastily threw his cloak over both the girls and urged them forward, Ron and he running in their wake. Hermione huffed as she ripped it off upon reaching the dumpster, but Harry could deal with her indignation later. One by one, they hopped the fence.


The inside was remarkably still clean, though incredibly run-down. It was, apparently, still an orphanage, though now large notifications of Child’s Rights and Institution Responsibilities adorned the walls. Fire extinguishers and alarms had been inexpertly placed by the front door, and large bags containing what looked like dirty towels sat propped at the side of the ascending staircase, apparently ready for pick-up in the morning.


“It’s just as it looked in the Pensieve,” Hermione murmured, fingering the railing to the stone steps. The matron bustling in the office must have knocked over a tin, because a small crash and muttered curses were heard coming from under the door.


“His room was this way,” Harry said quietly, hastening to ascend the stairs. The orphanage air had a dead, still feel to it, as though no one could possibly be alive and moving; however, the soft cough or slight whimper from the rooms they were passing played contrary to the notion. Harry stopped at the first door on the left, the same door they had all seen already, but he found soft snores issuing from inside and faltered in his decision to search this location for the first time.


“It seems…wrong…somehow,” Harry trailed off.


“What does,” Ron prompted him.


“This…kids asleep in there…” Harry continued, laying his hand on the closed door, “it’s just wrong…”


Harry couldn’t explain it, but a feeling in him began to swell. There was no Horcrux here, somehow he knew. The cave was so quiet, so isolated, so alone…this was nothing like that. How could a Horcrux be here? Quiet children, snoring and sleeping everywhere around…


“Well, we’re here,” Ginny offered, “if not in the room, why not check the basement?”


~*~


“Harry,” Ginny whispered, “I don’t think it’s here.”


Harry looked darkly around the room. “No, I don’t think so either,” he muttered, disappointed. A thorough search of the buildings basement uncovered no more than a few mousetraps and old, broken desks piled haphazardly by the foot of the rickety wooden staircase they had descended.


“It’s alright, Harry,” Hermione began soothingly, “we’re bound to have to search more than-” But, Hermione was cut off as voices in the foyer above drifted coarsely below.


“Filthy place, innit?”


The foursome froze.


“Why’d He have us come ‘ere? Bloody Muggles…” a second voice grumbled.


“Don’t question The Dark Lord,” the first voice hissed menacingly.


Ron’s jaw dropped as Ginny’s eyes widened. Hermione instantly began to worry her lip and wring her hands.


“If they find us here, if we’re caught…” Hermione whispered, terrified. Harry’s mind was racing. He did not want to be caught by Death Eaters this early in their search. He did not want to give Voldemort the time to create additional Horcruxes. And surely, if they were found out tonight, Voldemort would be able to guess what Harry was looking for. There was nowhere to hide in this bare, dingy basement and the invisibility cloak could only cover two of them…


“Hermione, come here,” Ron whispered urgently, ripping off his traveling cloak and hurling it towards Harry and Ginny. He ruffled his hair and un-tucked his shirt. “Harry, change the color of my hair, and Hermione’s, too,” Ron ordered quickly. The sounds of the Death Eaters footsteps above were growing ever closer.


“Ron, what-” Hermione began but was cut off as Ron dragged her roughly towards the collection of broken desks at the foot of the stairs, her hair rapidly turning blonde.


“Take off your cloak,” he ordered and then began helping her when she hesitated. Hermione tried to lock eyes with Ron; it couldn’t be plainer that for once, Hermione had no idea what was about to happen.


Ron lifted Hermione swiftly and sat her on one of the desks, facing him. His fingers traveled to her shirt buttons and he began undoing them.


“Ronald!” Hermione hissed. “Just what-”


“They’ll fight us if they think we’re wizards,” Ron began hurriedly, not forgetting his job of her shirt buttons, “but if they think we’re just orphans, out of bed…”


Hermione finally caught on as Ron ripped the rest of her shirt open. She immediately tackled the top button of her jeans, opening as much as she dared.


Ron pressed himself into Hermione, her legs on either side of him, just as the footsteps stopped at the doorway.


“You two,” Hermione snapped at Harry and Ginny, who up until this point had stood stock-still with their mouths hanging open, “get under that cloak! And turn around,” she added for good measure as a dark flush rose up her neck.


Harry and Ginny did as they were told as the door creaked open. Harry averted his eyes and focused on the stairwell. He could hear the top steps groan from the weight of the two descending Death Eaters.


Ron and Hermione pretended not to notice the footsteps drawing nearer. They were kissing passionately and, in Harry’s opinion, were certainly making this look convincing.


The Death Eaters had descended.


“Stupefy!” a Death Eater raised his wand, immobilizing both Ron and Hermione. Harry didn’t recognize either of them, though he thought they were vaguely familiar. They couldn’t have been much older than he was…


“Oi! What the hell is this!” the second Death Eater said. Ron’s right hand was now resting on Hermione’s chest, as he and his girlfriend were frozen mid-snog. Harry couldn’t help but admire the trust Ron and Hermione had placed in Ginny and he.


“Filthy fucking Muggles!” the first Death Eater spat, evidently revolted.


“I don’t know, Malcolm” the second one replied, “the girl’s not half bad…” He was circling Ron and Hermione. Harry tensed, gripping his wand tighter, he would not let anything happen to Hermione.


“Disgusting,” the Death Eater apparently named Malcolm muttered, as the second Death Eater looked hungrily at Hermione.


“This bloke’s covering her best parts though,” the second Death Eater remarked.


Harry felt Ginny twitch beside him; a panicked look crossed her eyes.


“Focus, Derrick,” Malcolm sneered, turning to take in the rest of the room.


The Death Eater named Derrick ignored his order and kept his appraising eyes on Hermione. “The Dark Lord wouldn’t deny us a little Muggle fun, would he?” he asked, laughing harshly as he pointed his wands to Ron’s hand.


“Stop screwing around, Derrick!” Malcolm ordered, now raising his wand.


“Fine,” Derrick returned, looking put out. “But, this is pointless, nobody’s been down here in ages. Unless they wanted a snog,” he finished with a snigger.


“Let’s get back to report then,” Malcolm said, turning towards the stairs.


“What about them?” Derrick gestured to the Stupefied Ron and Hermione.


“Leave them,” Malcolm said coldly, “They will be an amusing display for their matron.”


The sounds of the Death Eaters footsteps faded away up the stairs and Harry heard a distinct popping sound before he took off his invisibility cloak and approached Ron and Hermione, muttering the counter curse.


They broke apart immediately, Ron removing his hands and softly closing Hermione’s shirt. Hermione hadn’t moved and her eyes were shining with unshed tears.


“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron began with a tenderness Harry hadn’t known him to possess. “I would never let anyone do that to you.” He enfolded her in his arms and Harry could hear Hermione’s soft whimpering.


Ginny rushed to Hermione’s side, rubbing her back. Hermione slowly broke from Ron’s grasp, sniffling, and turned her back to the boys, fumbling with her shirt buttons.


“Here, let me,” Ginny said softly, uttering “Reparo” under her breath. Hermione stood to button the top of her jeans.


Harry eyed Ron nervously; he looked shattered.


“Ronald, take me back home?” Hermione asked in a small voice, turning once more towards Ron. He moved immediately to oblige and after a small pop, they had both disappeared.


Harry and Ginny followed moments later.


~*~


“She’s asleep,” muttered Ron as he closed the door on Hermione’s room and promptly fell into a chair by the fire that Harry had conjured. “Accio Firewhiskey,” Ron muttered in the direction of the kitchen and a large bottle of amber liquid came hurtling towards him. “Want some,” he offered quietly as he poured himself a large glass.


“Ron, it’s not your fault,” Ginny attempted, as Harry Summoned two large glasses from the kitchen.


“Did you see her face?” Ron asked in a broken voice. “How could I do that to her?”


“You didn’t do it to her, mate,” Harry responded, handing Ginny a glass and sipping his own half-heartedly, “she understood.”


“Hermione knew the risk of being caught by the Death Eaters,” Ginny continued in a hollow voice, “you both did, and you trusted that Harry and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and we wouldn’t…”


“But, did you see her face…”


Harry and Ginny shared helpless looks as Ron finished his drink and poured another.


“Harry, I need to borrow a book of yours, would you mind?” Ginny asked as she set her drink on the table.


“Of course not,” Harry responded quietly. When Ginny turned to leave she mouthed, “Talk to him!”


“We’ve never even done much more than that, Harry,” Ron began before Harry had the chance.


“What?”


“We’ve been getting close, sure, but never closer than we were tonight,” Ron paused to slurp the Firewhiskey, “not like that…”


“Er,” Harry honestly had no idea how he was supposed to respond to this and so settled on focusing on his drink instead. Ron seemed not to have noticed.


“And then to see that Death Eater looking at her like that…talking like that…” Ron ears had gone red from anger and he balled up his fists. “How could I do that to the woman I love!” Ron practically shouted as he slammed his fist into the table and upended Ginny’s glass, shattering it.


Ron’s outburst seemed not to need a reply, for which Harry was grateful. Instead he pointed his wand at the shards of Ginny’s glass and muttered, “Reparo.” Ron seemed unaware of what he had just admitted.


“I’m hopeless, Harry,” he continued, slumping back into a quieter state. “That was so stupid of me.”


“No…it wasn’t,” came a strangled sounding whisper from the hallway.


“Hermione,” Ron leap from his chair, “why are you out of bed?”


Hermione glanced wryly at Harry before wildly inventing, “I wanted a drink.” Harry thought it was much more likely that Ron’s shouting had woken her.


“I’ll get you some water,” Ron offered immediately, hastening to the kitchen.


“No, I think I’ll have some of that,” Hermione replied shyly, indicating the bottle of Firewhiskey. “It’s been a long day.”


“Hermione, I’m so sorry. Really, I…” Ron continued, conjuring a glass and handing it to her.


“Don’t be,” she replied softly, pulling Ron down unto the couch with her. “It was a really brave, smart, and daring thing to do.” Hermione smiled at Ron and then at Harry, who had not succeeded in disappearing into his chair as he had planned. “I trusted that Harry and Ginny wouldn’t let anything happen to us. And, I trusted your judgment,” she finished soundly, leaning into Ron’s shoulder.


“We wouldn’t have let anything happen,” Harry said quietly, shuddering inwardly at the possibility.


“I know that,” Hermione responded genuinely. “Still, it shakes a person up…”


Harry nodded.


“It’s a good thing you thought to change our hair color, Ron,” Hermione continued moments later, marginally more cheerful.


“I thought we should in case we’ve seen them before, but I didn’t recognize either of them...” Ron trailed off, under the impression that Hermione was teasing him.


“You didn’t?” Hermione asked, astounded. “Harry?”


“No,” Harry responded truthfully, “I thought they looked familiar, but…”


“Well, I should think so!” Hermione snorted. “Malcolm Baddock and Derrick, Derrick… Well, I can’t remember his last name; but he was a Slytherin! Actually, I think he was on the Quidditch team.”


Ron’s mouth fell open. “That…that… I can’t believe that git,” he muttered through a now clenched jaw.


“It all comes back to Voldemort, doesn’t it,” Hermione continued softly. “Because of him, Hogwarts is closed. And, with Hogwarts being closed and education ceasing, narrow-mindedness and cruelty are on the up rise. He is at liberty to round up impressionable students who would just love to, to…”


“Ruin everyone else’s existence,” Harry supplied. “You’re right, Hermione…” Harry took a deep breath. “We have to find that next Horcrux,” he said forcefully.


“Harry,” Ginny muttered as she drifted back into the living room, her head buried in one of Harry’s old school books, “is this true?”


“Is what true?”


“This-” Ginny’s eyes snapped up, “Oh! Hermione! How are you feeling?”


“I’m fine,” Hermione insisted. “Is what true?”


“This bit on Acromantula’s…” Ginny trailed off, referring back to the old text that Harry had decorated extensively with the help of Ron. “You scratched out the part saying Acromantula’s are unconfirmed in Scotland and wrote confirmed by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley instead.” Ginny looked questioningly towards Harry.


“Oh, yeah. Well, actually, we did confirm that,” Harry responded, laughing a little at the look of disgust on Ron’s face, “back in second year. They’re in the Forbidden Forest, quite a lot of them actually,” he added at the questioning look on his girlfriends’ face.


“How did they get there?” Ginny asked, confusing Harry. He couldn’t see why she would be so interested.


“Who else,” Ron muttered. “Hagrid, of course.”


“Hagrid was breeding Acromantula in the forest?” Ginny asked, a look of confusion shadowing her face.


“Well, I don’t know if he intended on that happening exactly. Riddle…” Harry paused and glanced at Ginny. He knew she was still haunted by the memories of Tom Riddle’s diary. “Erm, well, Riddle blamed Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets. He accused a pet Acromantula of Hagrid’s…”


“Pet, my arse…” Ron interrupted darkly.


“…of being the monster. Hagrid didn’t want Aragog, that was the spiders name, to be killed so he set him up in the Forbidden Forest.”


“That’s how Tom Riddle got away with it!” Ginny asked, outraged. She had never heard the full story before and Harry felt a little guilty, perhaps he should have told her sooner.


“Well, yes…” Harry responded, locking eyes with Ginny. Instead of hurt and anger, he saw a flash of comprehension. “Why are you asking about all of this?” Harry asked, suddenly extremely curious.


Ginny rolled her eyes before flopping down to the couch next to Hermione. Hermione’s eyes had gone very big and Harry was starting to get the feeling he was missing something important.


“So you think…” Hermione rounded on Ginny.


“Wouldn’t it make sense?” Ginny returned.


“Of course…”


“Anyone going to let us in on the secret?” Ron asked hopefully.


“Honestly! Don’t either of you read!” Hermione responded incredulously. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it…” she continued, snatching the book out of Ginny’s hands and burying her nose in it.


“Have neither of you taken the time to actually read the book you were both, evidently, sharing?” Ginny asked, astounded.


“I thought our experience with the damn things at least got us out of a bit of reading…” Ron muttered.


“Well, had you bothered,” Ginny continued, “you would know that-”


“The Acromantula is believed to be wizard-bred, possibly intended to guard wizard dwellings or treasure, as is often the case with magically created monsters…” Hermione trailed off softly, reading the passage directly from Harry’s old copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.


Sirens went off in Harry’s head. They were looking for a place where Voldemort would store his next Horcrux. A place secret and safe; a place he had once felt very powerful…


Voldemort felt powerful in the Guant house after his first act of murder, powerful when he discovered his ability to control the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, powerful when he could use and manipulate two innocent orphans, and powerful when he could use his cunning to expel an innocent student and blame them for the murder that he himself had committed…


“So,” Ron began with a very dry voice, “the next Horcrux is there…”


Hermione nodded.


“With the Acromantula…”


Hermione nodded again.


Harry initial feeling of elation was replaced with horror. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Acromantula in the forest. Last time they had barely escaped with their lives, and Aragog had still been living. Even Hagrid couldn’t help them this time…


And, as though she had read his mind, Ginny approached Harry and squeezed his hand. Warmth spread rapidly through him and he knew that this venture into the Forbidden Forest would be different. This time, he would be ready.


A/N This was one of my favorites! Hope you enjoyed! I knew Ginny would be an integral part…she is very clever. The next chappie is on its way…so sit tight!


By the way, anyone surprised Harry picked Hermione to practice with? I always was a R/Hr shipper, but I felt bad for the H/Hr shippers! There is, most obviously, a deep bond between those two (more sister-brother in my opinion), but you have to hand it to those shippers that the connection is a special one! Thanks for reading as always! I’ll work on that update!