It was late afternoon before Harry began to stir in his bed. He draped his right arm over his left shoulder and tucked it in close to his chest as he lay awkwardly on his side, legs kinked this way and that, and his bare feet peeked out from beneath the blanket. The effects of the Sleeping Draught had worn off long ago, leaving his body to take whatever time it needed to recover on it’s own.
He was having a particularly odd dream. He was at The Burrow, standing alone in the middle of the newly restored hollow to be exact. It must have been in the evening or so he thought, the sky above him was a pale, clear blue streaked with sheer orange colored clouds. Harry was dressed in a clown costume complete with fuzzy rainbow hair, mismatched-oversized clothes and shoes large enough to fit Hagrid’s half brother, Grawp. An overwhelming sense of embarrassment, mingled with dreaded anticipation, and topped off with a shot of nerves, caused his stomach to squirm and bind in knots. He could hear voices, familiar ones, laughing from all around the hedges as he tried to pull off the bulbous cherry nose.
“Look at him, will you!” Roared a voice that he knew belonged to Fred Weasley.
“He’s a right sorry sight, if I do say so myself.” Bill’s voice chuckled.
“Good luck with that, Harry.” George’s voice offered him sarcastic support.
Harry tired harder, tugging desperately at the bright red spot between his eyes.
“Oh be nice,” the motherly voice of Mrs. Weasley rang through the hedge, “It’ll all be over in a minute, Harry dear. Just take a deep breath, it’ll be alright.”
“I can’t believe he’s doing this.” Ron’s voice carried incredulously. “What is he thinking, of all the times and of all the places he does this now?”
“Don’t listen to him, Harry.” Hermione’s reassuring tone only caused his impending panic to firmly grab hold. “I think it’s wonderful.”
“Harry, if you thought that Hungarian Horntail was a handful, you better change your mind!” Charlie, or at least what he could remember Charlie’s voice being, echoed in his ears.
By now he had given up on his nose and wrenched at his clothes. Surely if they were four sizes too big they would come off, but sadly enough, they did not. Remembering that he was, after all- a Wizard, he felt around the waistband of his pink and purple spotted ladies bloomers to find his wand. However, he didn’t make much progress as his heart plummeted to the ground when a flowery scent reached his nose.
“Ginny” He whispered, scrambling for cover as the Weasley voices laughed hysterically through the hedges which they too seemed to join in the fun as it rustled like it was caught in a sudden gust of wind.
“You can’t hide, Harry. It’ll do no good, it’s better just to meet it head on.” Mr. Weasley’s voice offered advice to what Harry considered was easier said than done, given his current predicament.
Before he could make up his mind on whether to hide underneath the bench or behind the chaise lounge, everything went dark and a spotlight now shown directly on him. Frozen, just like a deer caught in the headlights as the muggle saying goes, he awaited his fate, blinded and feeling- not to mention looking, utterly stupid.
“Ginny?” He called out into the black expanse, “Ginny?”
“I’m right here, Harry. Wake up.” Her voice was slightly playful.
Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, the effects of which immediately dislodged him from the bizarre scene he had found himself in.
“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” Ginny said easily as she poured him a glass of water at the bedside table. “I know all your secrets now, Harry James Potter.”
“You what?” said Harry, his eyes opened wide before shutting again after being assaulted by the sunlit infirmary. “What did you say?”
Harry rolled over on his back and pressed the fleshy part of his palms over his eyes.
“I said I know all your secrets.” Ginny repeated merrily in a singsong voice. “All of them.”
“You do not.” He said as he stiffly pushed himself upright, only cracking his eyes enough to barely see the bright and blurry room through the setting sun.
“Here, take your glasses,” She said, pushing them into his hand, “and I’ve got a drink of water for you when your ready, the Sleeping Draught always gives me a bad case of cotton mouth.”
“What did I say?” He asked as calmly as he could, worried about what he could have said and having no recollection of it. After putting on his glasses, he took the offered drink from her hand.
“Oh, that’s for me to know.” Ginny replied cheekily, spinning around in her nightgown before she took a seat on her bed. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with all the sordid details.”
“You seem like your feeling better, have you been released?” He asked before taking a sip.
“Yeah, Madam Pomfrey gave me a clean bill of health after lunch, thanks to you.” Ginny said, picking at the ends of a lock of hair she had slid between her fingers.
“You’re disappointed?” Harry had understood her queue, whether she meant give it or not.
“Oh,” she sighed, flicking the lock back over her shoulder. “She said I could stay as long as I liked, provided that I didn’t disturb anyone. I’m not disturbing you, am I? Anyway, I’m not sure I want to go back just yet ”
“I know what you mean.” Harry answered honestly, running his free hand through his hair, pulling gently at the nape of his neck, easing the tension from the residual headache that remained. “Everyone will ask questions and expect answers or even worse, just stare.”
“Well, it’s not just that.” Ginny confided in him, “I’ve got Dean to deal with.”
“Oh.” Harry realized the scope of her dilemma, although he had no advice to give her.
“Ron and Hermione said that they’d stop in after dinner.” Ginny changed the subject quickly. “Mum and Dad left with Fred and George earlier this afternoon. Mum said that you need to get your rest and eat. You know, all the usual stuff she tells us. Fred and George left a care package for you, Ron has it. I think it’s more of those rainbow toffee thingys, but with those two, anything’s possible.”
Harry took another large gulp of water while she continued to talk, listening to what she was and wasn’t saying.
“Neville said ‘hello’, at least that’s what Luna said he said... she was here this morning. I guess that the word is that I got a sudden fever and you’ve whacked your head on a swinging shop sign and it knocked you out cold.” ‘That’s a believable excuse,’ he sarcastically thought. “Luna says that it was a Bonkard Keffle the made the sign hit you and that I accidentally ate the droppings of a Shertfield Louse.”
Ginny took a quick breath and rambled on, “Lupin peeked in on you too, but didn’t stay. I haven’t seen Dumbledore, I suppose he’s busy with everything. Hermione lent me one of her books, I’ve been reading it while you slept. It’s dull, really, all about the Goblin wars, she said that it’ll come up on my O.W.L.’s, but I’m glad to have it anyway.”
“Ginny.” Harry took the opportunity during a pause, it was all that needed to be said and he knew she understood him.
She sat there plainly on the edge of the bed, momentarily at a loss of words as if the last few minutes had emptied them all from her mind. “Thanks, Harry.”
“No, don’t thank me.” He shrugged and returned the empty glass to the bedside table. “I promised, remember?”
“How could I forget.” Ginny hopped off the bed and busied herself by pouring him yet another glass of water.
“Ginny, don’t.” Harry reached out and took her wrist closest to him, the one that was holding the glass she was trying to pour the water into.
He let go and continued to watch her as she to refilled his tumbler. The only sound was that of the pitcher hitting the rim and the slosh of the water that flowed between them.
Ginny kept quiet and offered him the drink.
Harry accepted it and set it back down on the nightstand in one smooth motion. He watched her retreat to the foot of his bed, pulling at the tangled mess of bedclothes in a feeble attempt to tuck them back in.
“It’s not your fault.” He said at last, he had a feeling of what was on her mind but resisted the urge to reconnect as Dumbledore had requested. “There was no way for you, me, or anyone else to know.”
“That’s not it, Harry.” She said through gritted teeth, yanking hard on the bottom sheet. Ginny’s hair fell forward, hiding her expression from view.
“It’s not?” He asked, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “But I thought that...”
“You were wrong.” She said, now pulling at the other corner, still bound and determined.
“Will you stop that please?” Harry asked with hint of annoyance.
“Your bed needs to be made, you can’t sleep in this.” Ginny snapped back.
“Leave the bed, Gin.” He asked, keeping his voice calm.
“I will not.” and tugged again, smoothing out the ridges.
“Please?” He asked again.
“No.” She shot at him and tucked the edge of the coverlet around to the underside of the mattress.
Slightly raising his voice and brow, Harry uttered one word, “Molly.”
Ginny dropped the coverlet, marched right up to Harry and leaned towards him, making sure that they were face to face so that he could not mistake her sentiments.
She said each word very clearly and very slowly. “I am not my mother.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He answered back, satisfied that his idea had worked.
“Why did you call me by my mother’s name!” Ginny’s nose twitched at the last three words.
“It’s your middle name isn’t it, Ginevra Molly Weasley?” He kept a straight face, knowing that he had got her.
Ginny was dumbstruck but still fuming. Harry watched her as she opened her mouth to rebuke him but was unable to produce a proper argument. It was a moment worth remembering, whether she was mad at him or not.
“I needed to get your attention and now I’ve got it.” He shook off his fleeting reverie.
“Yes you have.” Ginny stood up straight and added, “And don’t you ever call me by that name again, got it?”
“It worked didn’t it? Besides, your mum’s not so bad, I like her. She’s always taking care of me, sometimes she’s a bit overbearing, but I know she does it because she loves me.” Harry was struggling to keep the corners of his mouth from curling.
“Yes, she loves you, Harry. Happy?” Ginny eyed him curiously.
“So why are you upset that I called you by your middle name, the same name as your mother?” Not wholly oblivious to her reasons, he just enjoyed making her squirm. ‘No wonder Ron provokes Hermione all the time, it’s kind of fun.’.
“Oh, just never mind.” Ginny had given up on trying to explain it to him, she didn’t take the bait.
“What’s really bothering you?” He asked seriously. Harry gently grabbed her forearm and pulled her down to join him on the bed.
Reluctantly, she let him and mirrored his position in front of him. Her arms wrapped around her knees securing her nightgown and her cold bare feet met and laced with his.
“What is it Gin?” He finally asked, careful not to look too deep, too hard into her eyes.
“Us.” She said, watching his feet rest on top of hers, warming them.
“Us?” He remembered their last conversation about us on the hillside. That she had said that her and Dean were not like us.
“I know Harry. I know and it scares me now that I’ve had time to think it over.” Ginny said as she played with the eyelet hem of the nightgown.
“What, that I talk in my sleep?” Harry chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “What did you call it... all the sordid details?”
“Don’t be a prat, Harry.” Ginny swatted his shin before resting her arms again on top of her knees. “You know darn good and well what I’m talking about.”
“Our, uh... bond?” He couldn’t help the smile.
“Yes, our bond. Don’t you understand what it all means? Why it’s happened, how it’s happened? How this will affect you, me, and... Well, it’s just that it’s complicated.” He watched as her face scrunched at the last word, silently pleading him to understand.
“What isn’t complicated, Ginny? Look, we’ll sort it all out with Dumbledore. I’m afraid that if we, uh... keep going like this we might, you know, connect again.” Harry flushed briefly at the pleasant thought and then continued, “it’s hard enough for me not to as it is, and I’m not even sure how to stop it if it does.”
“Glad I’m not the only one.” She blushed.
“Is that what you were worried about, that we’d be connected all the time? That we’d always be in each others head?” Harry respected her concern, in fact he shared the same worry.
“Sort of, yeah, I guess it is.” Back pedaling at his reaction, “Not that it’s bad, necessarily. It’s just that, well. I know things about you and you know things about me but we’ve never really said anything about it to each other. Are you following me?”
“I think I know what you mean. There are things in my head I wouldn’t want you to see, or anybody else for that matter.” He couldn’t help but think of all the terrible events he has seen in his life and the single cause of them all.
“Me too.” Ginny smirked, “A girl has to keep her secrets.”
“Miss Weasley! Will you please remove yourself from Mr. Potter’s bed!” Madam Pomfrey’s exasperated remarks herald her hasty return. “I suppose your bed is lumpy and has an unsatisfactory view?”
“You’re in trouble.” Harry whispered, keeping a straight face, then removed his feet from hers.
Ginny rolled her eyes, grunted in frustration and hopped off his bed. She took one step on the cold stone floor before vaulting back on to the bed she had occupied the night before.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?” Madam Pomfrey reached his bedside, her arms crossed and a disproving, skeptical look on her face. “Better?”
“Much.”
“How’s your head?” She asked him sharply, not satisfied with the first answer.
“Sore.”
Not expecting a forthcoming reply, she continued to ask her patient of his well being. “How’s your strength?”
“Dunno.” Harry kept to his one worded answers. He was afraid that if he had said anything more, he would burst out laughing.
“Fine then, hold still.” The Healer extracted her wand and moved it over him before replacing it into her robe pocket. “ I’m afraid that you’ll be staying here with us for awhile longer.”
“But-“ Harry tried to convince her otherwise but was unfortunately held to his one worded answer.
“No buts, Mr. Potter,” Harry could hear Ginny snort, “you’re not going to be gallivanting around the school anytime soon, let alone the hospital wing.” Madam Pomfrey shook her finger at him before rounding on Ginny. “As for you, Miss Weasley, visiting hours are over at eight o’clock sharp unless you give me a reason to make it earlier.”
“Yes Ma’m.” Ginny was genuinely apologetic, she had been given a deadline.
She walked back up the aisle and towards her desk, turning around to look at them while mumbling something that sounded like ‘just like his’ before disappearing into her office.
“I suppose I better change.” Ginny sighed as she stood up, “I just thought that she’d let me stay longer if I was still in my nightgown.”
“I hoped you could’ve stayed too. I like the company.” Harry said, suddenly feeling brave as he laid back onto the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head.
“Sure you do.” Ginny smiled, pulling the blind out from the wall before she too disappeared.
Harry could hear her pull out her things from the bedside table and thought of how much he didn’t want her to go.
“I’ll miss you, Gin.” It was easier to say now that he couldn’t see her.
“Uh huh, sure you will.” She scoffed.
“Will what?” Ron asked, flanked by Hermione as they walked up to his bed.
“Nothing.” Both he and Ginny replied.
“We brought you something to eat.” Ron lifted the napkin off of the plate she was carrying. “Don’t worry, I’ve okayed it with the Grand Headmistress of the Infirmary.”
“Thanks.” Harry said as he took the plate full of his favorite foods and a set of utensils from Hermione and rested it on his lap.
“We also brought your school books.” Hermione said as Ron let Harry’s heavy book bag fall with a dull thud to the floor. “We figured you’d be here awhile, so we thought you could study so you wouldn’t fall too far behind in your classes.”
Harry nodded in appreciation, his mouth was currently full of roast beef.
“Where’s mine?” Ginny reappeared from the blind fully dressed and pushed it up back up against the wall.
“Sorry, Ginny.” Ron looked to his feet. “I didn’t know that you’d still be here. I could go and nick you something from the kitchens if you’d like?”
“Na, I can’t eat everything you brought me, we’ll share.” Harry offered the plate to Ginny, who snatched up a roasted chicken leg before taking the last visitor’s chair.
“Any news?” Harry asked his best friends.
“No, not really.” Ron answered and sat down on the edge of the bed, Hermione had occupied the remaining chair.
“We did see Mrs. Malfoy though,” Hermione admitted, “we were on rounds after lunch when we passed her and Professor Snape on the seventh floor corridor.”
“Did you hear them say anything?” Harry asked, wanting all the information he could get.
“No, they just hurried down the corridor and didn’t bother to look at us.” Hermione tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all we’ve got, she looked upset though.”
“Probably because her precious son wouldn’t be meeting up with her Death Eater husband and his best mate Voldemort.” Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione.
“Ron.” Hermione didn’t appreciate his sarcastic comment.
“Yeah, she was here alright, arrogance and all.” Ron shuttered slightly, “I had forgotten how much she looks like Sirius. Well, not like Sirius really, but there definitely is a Black family resemblance.”
“It’s true, then?” Harry asked before downing another slice of roast beef.
Ron looked to Ginny. “He is staying.”
“Dumbledore has his reasons, Ron.” Hermione shrugged at him, trying to cut off his building anger.
“Neither one of us is going to get chummy with Malfoy anytime soon. Look, if anyone should be angry that that little ferret is staying, it’s me. But if it’s good enough for Dumbledore, then it’s good enough for me.” Ginny said, finishing off her chicken leg.
“I still don’t trust him though, I don’t care what Dumbledore says.” Ron shook his head in disagreement.
“Well, I agree with you both.” Harry joined in, “I can have Dobby still keep an eye on him, make sure he’s not up to something else.”
They all sat silent. There were more questions than answers at this point, and each one of them was at a loss as to how to proceed.
“Have you seen Dean?” Ginny winced at her own mention of his name and look to Hermione for an answer, who merely grimaced back.
“I’ve seen him in the dorm.” Ron spoke up. “Everytime I’ve been up there, he’s there. I would think that having your memory modified, rearranging and re-inventing a whole day, would make you a bit funny.”
“Oh.” Ginny said quietly before chucking the bone into the rubbish bin. “So he doesn’t know?”
“That’s right. He’s not supposed to, remember? Nobody but the people who were involved are aware that anything happened and that’s the way it has to stay.” Hermione told Ginny consolingly.
“So, has Dumbledore talked to you about, uh...” Ron asked, hesitant to say anything outright just in case they were still unaware.
“He talked to us for a minute last night, after you all left.” Ginny perked up.
“What did he tell you?” Hermione asked, hoping to validate her suspicions.
“Nothing much, he said we’d talk about it later.” Harry shrugged, “Why, what do you know?”
“Oh, it’s just that Ron and his good friend Sigefert,” she tossed Ron a funny look, “have a few ideas.”
“Really, what does ol’Ealdred have to say on the matter?” Ginny smirked at Ron.
“You know?” Ron asked, surprised by her mention of the former Runes Professor who’s memories now resided with his own.
“Of course I know, I picked up a few tricks from my dear, darling, brothers.” Ginny laughed at his contorted face. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking about it after your first meeting with Dumbledore, extendable ears!”
“Oh.” Ron mouthed.
“Now will you tell us what you think it is?” Ginny sweetly asked her brother.
“No.” Ron answered flat out. “If Dumbledore hasn’t told you, then I won’t. He, Ealdred, could be wrong- I could be wrong.”
“But we have a pretty good idea, though.” Hermione looked to Ron, asking for approval to give them at least some clues. “There are four things we think it could be. Most of them are good, well, at least they could be good. The last one isn’t so... favorable, but we couldn’t rule it out because some of the explanations fit.”
Harry and Ginny looked to each other, both wondering when the other shoe would drop.
“How bad is it?” Harry answered, still looking at Ginny.
“Bad.” Ron sighed, “But like Hermione said, it probably isn’t that particular one.”
“Have you seen what happens when we uh...” Harry stumbled on the last word. Somehow saying it to her older brother, his best mate, was a little uncomfortable, especially now that he understood the feelings that went with it.
Ron finished his sentence, “-when you bond? Yeah, we’ve scene it.”
“It’s a bit scary though, honestly.” Hermione said, “When it happened in the alley, it was like...” She searched for her words before concluding, “I don’t know, it’s hard to describe.”
“Powerful,” Ron said reverently, “very powerful.”
“So we’ve heard.” Ginny blushed, Harry thought he caught a wink.
The hour they had left of official visiting time quickly passed to Harry’s dismay. Ron and Hermione had prefect duties to perform, making sure that the first year students made it back to their houses before their curfew. Ginny stayed until the very last second, explaining that she wanted to avoid as many people as possible.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled as the tower clock struck one, “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Surprise me.” He smiled back, knowing that he would see her sooner than he had originally thought.
Ginny made a sudden move towards him as the clock continued to chime its final strokes, but changed her mind midway and pulled back.
“Nigh’ Harry.” She said quickly over her shoulder as she walked swiftly to the door.
“Nigh’ Gin.” He replied, but he was the only one there to hear it.
It had been two hours now since he had been separated from Ginny. Harry tried not to let his mind linger on her, but it was proving to be a difficult thing to do. He knew that if he thought about her too hard or for too long, he would ‘invade’ her mind again and he was keen on following Dumbledore’s orders. Madam Pomfrey did not give him the Sleeping Draught tonight, so there was no chance of him falling asleep anytime soon as his mind was otherwise occupied.
Harry flipped over on his side again, hoping against his better judgement to see the redhead in the opposite bed like he did the night before. Disappointed, as he knew he would be, he examined the contents of the bedside table, looking for any remnant that Ginny might have forgotten. And there it was, a temporary cure to what was ailing him, Sirius’ mirror that Lupin had left behind.
He reached for the worn felt cloth and removed its priceless treasure.
“Lupin?” Harry asked into the old mirror, doubting that he would get a response.
“Moony?” He asked again, flipping it over and back again.
“Harry?” Lupin’s voice and image came through the square mirror.
“Hi.” Harry said, not really knowing what to say next.
“Need to talk?” Lupin had a knack for knowing what he needed.
Harry merely nodded.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” He smiled faintly before disappearing from view.
He replaced the whole, foggy mirror back inside the felt and returned it to the table wondering how Lupin had gotten the mirror in the first place since he had it on him when they went to Hogsmeade.
Five minutes had passed before the soft footsteps of Lupin’s arrival could be heard.
“Did you clear it with the Grand Headmistress of the Infirmary?” Harry greeted him as he came into view, remembering Ron’s new title for the school healer.
“Madam Pomfrey?” He asked, “Yes, she wasn’t happy about it, but conceded in the end.”
“How did you get the mirrors?” Harry blurted out, needing an explanation to his latest query.
“They were in your cloak, Ron and Hermione went back and retrieved it from in front of the pub and brought it back to up the castle.” Lupin slid the wooden chair out from the wall and positioned it opposite Harry.
“They were hanging onto it in the hall while they waited outside to hear of any news about you or Ginny. Dumbledore had to convince her, Madam Pomfrey that is, to let them sit with you so late that night. I saw it and checked its contents, thus finding the mirrors. I thought that they might come in handy in the near future, and it looks like I was correct in that assumption.”
“Oh,” Harry thought, “so you have the extra shard?”
“Yes, I do.” He pulled the jagged piece out of his trouser pocket, got up and reached across to place it with it proper owner.
“No, keep it.” Harry stopped him.
Lupin nodded in acceptance, replaced the shard, and sat back down onto his chair. “So what’s on your mind, Harry?”
“It’s more like what’s not on my mind.” He replied tiredly, rearranging the pillows behind him to sit up a little straighter.
“Are you feeling better?” Lupin asked, folding his arms across his chest as Madam Pomfrey did earlier that evening.
“I’ve still got a bit of a headache, but nowhere near what it was yesterday. I can move myself, so that’s an improvement, but I’m checked into this fine establishment until further notice.” Satisfied with his pillow placement, he leaned back.
“I hear that you may be in for at least a week.” Lupin let the ball drop.
“Great.” He said dryly.
“I’m sure you can find things to do while you’re here,” Lupin said glancing at his full book bag on the floor. “It looks like Hermione has made sure of that.”
“Yeah, it’ll be loads fun.” Harry looked at his Professor, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what lesson I’ll be missing?”
“You’ve already covered it.” Lupin smiled back.
“Narcissa Malfoy was here today.” Harry again blurted out his question as it popped into his mind. “Did you see her?”
“No, but I heard that she was here.” Lupin sighed before he continued. “Dumbledore has his reasons.”
“I’ve heard that already today.” Harry rolled his eyes in frustration. “Hermione said the exact same thing.”
“Well, it’s true.” Lupin’s face tensed before he continued. “Mrs. Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, may not be callous as we think.”
“She’s a former Slytherin, married to Lucius Malfoy, a loyal Death Eater, and she’s a Black.” Harry thought of the portrait of Mrs. Black, calling him and his friends’ traitors and Mudbloods.
“Andromeda is a Black, Sirius was a Black too.” Lupin reminded him of his Godfather’s parentage. “Not all Blacks are bad.”
“This one is.” Harry politely disagreed.
“Let’s think about this one.” Lupin said calmly before conceding Harry’s point. “Yes, she was a Slytherin, married and has a son with a well-known, pure-blooded, Death Eater and belongs to a family that has been associated with Voldemort in more ways than one.”
“She also has a choice, Harry. Draco could have been expelled, he could have been released back into his family’s care. Narcissa could have easily expressed her wishes for him to leave the school, but she didn’t.”
“So.” Harry said. “What does it matter whether Draco stays or goes? He told me himself two years ago that his father wanted him to go to Drumstrang but his mother wanted him to go to Hogwarts instead.”
Lupin sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Exactly, Harry. His mother ultimately sent him to Hogwarts.”
“I still don’t see what you’re getting at.” Harry shrugged. “So his mother sent him to Hogwarts.”
“To be under Albus Dumbledore.”
“And Snape.” He added.
“Professor-“ Lupin sighed again.
“Professor Snape.” Harry corrected himself obediently.
“I don’t need to tell you how much mothers love their sons, Harry.”
“No, you don’t.” He turned his gaze to his hands as he pick at his cuticles, he finally agreed with what Lupin had said.
“There maybe hope for Draco, if what Professor Snape has said was correct, he may not follow in his fathers’ footsteps.”
“I believe in a reformed Draco as much as I believe in a reformed Death Eater.” Harry purposely left out ‘Professor Snape’.
“I know of three.” Lupin looked directly at Harry and waited until their eyes met, “Karakoff, Regulus Black, and Professor Snape.”
“Great odds being that two out of the three have been murdered by their own kind.” Harry was refusing to admit that such a transformation was possible.
“Either way, Harry.” Lupin gave up the argument for now. “Don’t tell me you’ve been up here stewing this whole time about Draco.”
“No.” He replied without giving anything away.
“How’s Ginny?” Lupin dared to ask. “I see she’s not here.”
“Released.” Harry said, glancing slightly back at her bed. “She’s better, I think.”
“You think?” He questioned him, his eyebrows raised.
“She’s just nervous.” Harry tried to shrug off the answer, “Worried.”
“And has every right to be.” Lupin didn’t push the subject any further.
“She’s bringing me breakfast tomorrow.” He tried to say it as nonchalantly as possible as if it was no big deal.
“Oh, that’s nice of her.” Lupin smiled.
They sat there looking at each other, the walls, the floor, and whatever else they could see in the dim light, neither one of them spoke for several minutes. Lupin cleared his throat softly and got up to leave. But before he could stand fully upright, Harry stopped him a second time that night.
“When did my Dad start liking my Mum?”
Lupin slowly sat back down, his hands resting on his knees as he slumped forward, staring at the floor. Harry heard him take a deep breath and an equally long exhale before he finally looked up at him. An expression of reflective sadness crested and ebbed away. Seeing this reaction, Harry suddenly wished he hadn’t asked it.
“I don’t know exactly when, Harry, but I believe that he was about your age.” Lupin looked uncomfortable. “It’s not like he declared it on a given day.”
“Oh.” Harry thought better of asking for anything more.
“Lily was beautiful, funny, smart, popular...” Lupin sighed heavily again, “She was the most kind and caring witch I have ever met.”
“You liked her, didn’t you?” Harry asked.
“Of course I did, who didn’t.” Lupin played down his answer but his eyes betrayed him. “We all liked her, Harry.”
“Your father had a lot of the same qualities in him. He was just a stupid git around girls like the rest of us at that age.” The Marauder laughed doleful at the poignant, bittersweet memory of his younger years. “Not that you’re-”
“Oh no, I am.” Harry acknowledged, returning the laugh. “I’ve been told so before, a couple times in fact.”
“Anyway, back to the point, your parents loved each other very much despite his tendencies to act like a idiot and whatever you saw in Professor Snape’s memory last year. What’s brought this on? Did someone say something to you?”
“No, just thought I’d ask.” Harry knew that his own eyes had betrayed him as Lupin’s had done moments before.
“Can I ask you one question?” Lupin smiled mischievously as the Marauder in him sparked back to life.
“Uh, sure.” He replied hesitantly, “But can I choose to not to answer?”
“Fair enough.” Lupin geared up in his chair, the smirk still visible on his face.
“Go on and ask your question.” Harry braced himself, not knowing what to expect.
Lupin hung the query above his head like an anvil, taunting him with the silence before he released the impending blow.
Possible questions ran through his head like wildfire. ‘ How many girls have you been dating? Who’ve you been snogging in the broom cupboard? Do you like brunettes, blondes, or a particular redhead? ’ Or he could just cut to the heart of the matter with one blunt swipe. ‘Are you in love with Ginny Weasley?’ And then it happened...
“Who called you a stupid git?”
“That’s your question?” Surprised, Harry felt evanescent relief before the answer caught up with him. “Goodnight, Moony.”